#simming is hard | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heejamas · 15 days ago

Text

MANCHILD

➢ pairing: cowboy!jake x fem!reader … ﹒cowboy au, strangers to lovers, smut \\ ➢ synopsis: you’re trouble, and jake sim knows it. you flirt like it’s your job, wear sin like perfume, and make men beg without even trying. he’s the only cowboy who doesn’t chase you. so naturally, he’s the only one you want. a small-town, slow-burn, filthy little game of who breaks first. ➢ word count: 9.5k

➢ warnings: smut!! minors dni. oral sex (f and m receiveing), unprotected sex (dont do it!!), public-ish sex, dirty talk, possessive!jake, softdom!jake, bratty!reader, spanking, cum eating, praise and degradation, cowboy kink™, jake is a menace but so are you, yeehaw but make it slutty

you’re wiping down the counter when you say it, voice low and lazy, like it’s just another tuesday night and not the kind of sentence that rearranges a man’s brain chemistry.

“i like my boys playing hard to get.”

you don’t mean it to land anywhere in particular. you’re just talking, tossing it out there between gossip, your voice sweet, meant only for the girl beside you. so she laughs, nudges you with her hip. “you mean the ones who ghost you after three days?”

“no,” you sigh, stretching like a cat behind the bar. “i mean the ones who pretend they don’t care. the ones too proud to beg. makes it more fun when they do.”

you say it like it’s a joke, but you mean every word. and across the room, jake sim hears you.

he hadn’t meant to. hadn’t even realized he was eavesdropping until the words tangled around him. he’s not the type to pay attention to chatter. he’s been coming to this place for years, knows how to tune out the flirting and the country drawls and the clink of empty glasses. but your voice is different. and he’s seen you around, of course. everyone has.

you’re the kind of girl people build myths around. the kind they write country songs about, because you have a laugh that could ruin a man. and every guy in town’s tried his luck. most ended up a little poorer, a little dumber, and twice as obsessed. and you never even blinked.

so when you breeze past his table, tray balanced on your palm, perfume trailing like a challenge, jake doesn’t move. doesn’t shift, doesn’t look up from his drink. not obviously, at least. he doesn’t give you the satisfaction. and you notice. oh, you notice. because you’re used to stares, to whistles and clumsy compliments and boys who fall over themselves to hand you things you never asked for. you’re used to the way they sit up straighter when you walk by, the way their words fumble out of their mouths like dropped coins.

but this one? this one just sits there. quiet and unmoved.

you catch him watching only once, just once, when you lean forward to grab a bottle from the bottom shelf, and when your eyes flick up, his are already somewhere else. not pretending, not faking it, just gone. and it pisses you off more than it should.

you don’t say anything. you just toss your hair over your shoulder and smile at the other girl again, louder this time. “i like my men all incompetent,” you declare, tucking a dollar into your apron, “and i swear they choose me, i’m not choosing them.”

jake lifts his beer to his lips, slow. doesn’t smile. doesn’t even smirk. and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel in control of the game. you hate that, but you also love that.

but you definitely hate rodeos.

too loud and sweaty. too many men with too little brain and too much cologne. it’s just the same loop every time—horses, hats, hollering, and someone calling you “sweet cheeks” like that’s supposed to make you blush instead of gag. normally, you stay far away. but tonight’s different. because you heard jake sim was riding.

so you show up. late, of course, on purpose. your boots crunch over dirt and beer cans as you make your way through the crowd, hips swinging just enough to remind everyone you don’t walk, you arrive. every man you pass straightens his spine like you might look at him if he behaves, and every woman rolls her eyes in that half-jealous way they always do.

but you don’t care. you’re not here for them. you’re here for the man on the horse.

and when you spot him, out in the pen, one hand gripping the reins, the other resting light against his thigh, you feel that slow, low flutter in your stomach that tastes a little like trouble. because he’s wearing that stupid hat again, the same beat-up one that sits just low enough to make his eyes a mystery and his mouth a promise. his shirt’s rolled up to the elbows, collar unbuttoned, forearms dusted with dirt and sin. he looks like sin. he rides like sin.

you lean against the fence, pop a piece of gum into your mouth, and pretend you’re not watching. but you are, everyone is. but he doesn’t look into the crowd, not once. he doesn’t wave, doesn’t show off, doesn’t even smile. he just focuses—on the gate, on the bull, on the seconds ticking down before the chaos. there’s something precise about it, almost like he’s not here to perform, just to win.

and you hate how hot that is.

when the gate finally opens and he bursts out, body moving like he’s part of the beast beneath him, the whole crowd goes wild. people scream, hats fly, beer spills. but you just chew your gum and watch. he holds on longer than anyone else that night. and when he lands, smooth and sharp and smug, your stomach does a traitorous little flip.

he still doesn’t look at you. not even when he walks past, later, towel slung over his shoulder, shirt sticking to his back, sweat dripping down his neck like something out of a country girl’s fantasy.

you’re standing by the concession stand now, pretending to look at overpriced chili fries when he walks right past you again. and for the first time, maybe in ever, you don’t know what to do with that. because everyone looks at you. everyone wants something from you.

but jake sim? jake sim doesn’t even blink.

you pop your gum again, louder than necessary. he still doesn’t turn. bastard. so you lick your lips, tilt your head, and mutter just loud enough for the girl next to you to hear—just loud enough for him to maybe hear, too— “god, i hate cowboys.”

except you don’t. you really, really don’t.

so you decide to wear red on saturday. not a soft red. not a muted, tasteful, wine-country red. no, this is bright, dangerous, stop-sign red. the kind that glitters when you walk and blasphemes when you bend. you slip it on slow, knowing exactly what it does to your body and your ego. it’s the kind of dress that starts fights and finishes them.

you don’t wear it for him, not technically. but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t check your lipstick twice before heading to the bar, or if you hadn’t spent a good three minutes wondering if jake sim was the type of man who noticed sequins.

(it turns out—he isn’t.)

he’s already there when you walk in, sitting in his usual corner like a piece of furniture carved from patience and denim. same hat, same shirt, same maddeningly blank expression. he doesn’t flinch when you walk by. doesn’t scan your legs like every other man. doesn’t lean over to whisper something to his friend and then laugh too loud. he just looks. once. and then looks away.

you could scream. instead, you smile. you spend the next hour putting on a show—not for him, of course, never that. just for… the atmosphere. you take extra time leaning over the bar. you laugh a little louder, let your fingers trail longer. you flirt, you twirl, you dance like you’re made of sugar and smoke.

and he just sits there. solid. steady and stoic in the face of sin.

when the jukebox shifts to something slow and sweaty, your friend pulls you out from behind the bar and spins you onto the floor. you go willingly, you always do. you dance with her, and then with some other guy, who’s a terrible flirt but a decent dancer. you laugh as you move, hips swaying, hands up, hair stuck to your neck. people cheer, whistles echo. someone shouts your name.

and still, jake sim doesn’t look. he sits there, beer untouched, fingers drumming slowly against the table. his eyes are on the wall, or the floor, or nowhere at all. you want to throw a chair at him. instead, you press your body just a little closer, let your head tip back, your laughter bubble out like champagne.

and for half a second, just half, you swear you can feel his gaze. but by the time you glance over, it’s gone.

you finish the dance anyway, cheeks flushed from effort or ego or something worse, and when you walk past jake’s table again, you pause. just enough. he still doesn’t say anything. but his knuckles are white around the bottle, and that’s something.

and you’re not much of a smoker, not really. it’s more about the image. the ritual of it—door swinging shut behind you, the hum of the saloon dulling into background noise, a lighter flicked slowly. you like the weight of the cigarette between your fingers, the way it makes your mouth look meaner. you especially like the way people look at you when you do it.

on sunday, though, the sidewalk is mostly empty. the neon sign above the door buzzes like it’s dying, and your heels click against the pavement. you’re alone, almost. because he’s there. leaning against his truck—of course it’s a truck, stupid and long and matte black— arms crossed, hat low, chewing on a toothpick like he was placed there by god.

you try not to look. but of course you fail.

“you always stand like that,” you say, taking a drag and blowing smoke sideways, “or is this a special occasion?”

he doesn’t turn, god, he doesn’t even smile. “like what?” he asks, voice low and scratchy, like he only uses it when necessary.

you flick ash toward the gravel and shift your weight, one hip out, just enough to suggest: i am here and i am wearing very little. so you say: “like you’re being painted,” you say. “by someone too obsessed with denim.”

that gets a reaction, barely—a twitch at the corner of his mouth. nothing close to a smile, but you count it anyway. “you don’t like denim?” he asks.

“i like it just fine,” you say, letting your eyes travel up and down. “i just think it likes you a lot.”

he hums, quiet and unfazed. the toothpick shifts from one side of his mouth to the other with devastating nonchalance. “you always flirt like that?” he asks finally, and it’s almost cruel, the way he says it—like he’s calling you out without even looking at you.

you tilt your head. “like what?”

“like you’re bored.”

you take another drag, slower this time. it buys you a second. maybe two. “i’m not bored,” you say. “i’m offended.”

he finally looks at you then. really looks. not a glance, not a flick of the eyes, but a slow, full scan that starts at your boots and ends at your mouth. “offended?”

“yeah,” you say. “you’re the first man in town who hasn’t tried to get a shot with me.”

he raises an eyebrow. your breath hitches, and you curse yourself for it. because god damn it. he pushes off the truck, and he steps forward, just one step, just close enough for you to smell him. smoke and leather and desert heat. “that why you came out here?” he asks. “to collect another admirer?”

“no,” you say, a little too quickly. “i came out to smoke.”

he nods, glances at your cigarette. “you’re holding it backwards.”

you look down, you are. shit.

he walks past you then, amused and infuriatingly tall, back toward the saloon. and just before the door swings shut behind him, he tosses the toothpick into the dirt and says, without looking: “you’ll have better luck with someone who gives a damn, sweetheart.”

you stand there for a minute, blinking smoke out of your eyes, lips parted in disbelief, cigarette still backwards in your hand. you don’t know whether to chase him or marry him. probably both.

the annual summer festival happens a week later, and the whole town’s lost its damn mind. kids run wild, drunk uncles argue, and there’s a man singing country ballads off-key on the main.

and you look stunning, obviously. short dress, boots too clean to be from here, a pair of sunglasses you don’t need but wear anyway. you walk through the crowd like you’re not sweating like everyone else. and your arm? it’s linked tightly through lee heeseung’s. the sheriff’s son. walking cologne bottle. he thinks calling women “sugar tits” is flirtation and not a felony. you smile like he’s the most charming thing this town’s ever coughed up. and across the lot, jake sees everything.

he’s standing near the fence, drink in hand, chewing on his pride. he looks like a warning sign, his arms crossed so tight his biceps look like they’re planning a mutiny. he doesn’t blink, he doesn’t even pretend not to be watching. you glance at him once, and once is enough.

you laugh louder. lean closer to heeseung, who’s talking about god-knows-what—his truck, his workout, his daddy’s badge—and you nod like you care. every move is calculated. every smile is a weapon. because you know exactly what you’re doing. so you excuse yourself after a while, muttering something about needing another drink, slipping away from heeseung before he can say something else that’ll make your ears bleed. you walk through the back, your boots clicking fast.

you’re halfway to the bar when you feel a heat at your back.

“fun night?” his voice is behind you. dry and quiet.

you don’t turn around right away. you let the moment hang. and then you say, “depends,” running a hand through your hair like it’s not dripping down your neck. “you havin’ fun watching?”

he steps in closer. you feel him before you see him, his chest just a breath away from your shoulder. “you always hang off men you don’t like?” he asks, voice low enough to make your knees consider collapsing.

you shrug. “what makes you think i don’t like him?”

“you’re bored. i know what you look like when you’re havin’ fun.”

you hate how that line makes your stomach twist. hate it more that he’s right. so you finally turn to face him, hands on your hips, head tilted with mock sweetness. “what, jealous?”

he laughs. it’s short and dark. “of lee heeseung?” he scoffs. “sweetheart, i’m jealous of his dog before i’m jealous of him.”

you bite your lip to hide the smile, and you fail. “then why are you here?” you ask, eyes locking onto his.

he leans in, just enough to make you dizzy. his gaze dips—down your lips, down your throat, down your dress—and lingers there, shameless. he looks like he wants to say more. or do more. and you kind of wish he would. but instead, he straightens up, steps back, and lets the space between you fill with heat again.

“because, darling, next time you wanna get under someone’s skin,” he says, “maybe pick a man who ain’t wearin’ daddy’s badge.”

and just like that, he turns and walks off. no touch. not even a goddamn smirk. you’re left standing there, pulse racing, drink forgotten, mouth parted like a woman halfway to disaster.

you fan yourself with your hand, mutter to no one, “fuck my life.”

and over the next few weeks, jake sim makes a habit out of losing his mind quietly.

he tells himself he’s just thirsty. that’s the only reason he keeps showing up to the saloon. he tells himself that every night he parks that stupid truck in the same stupid spot and walks through the same door into the same bar where you’re working, and where you, lately, won’t even look at him.

and that’s what kills him. because you used to look. all big eyes and evil little smiles, like you were constantly cooking up something sinful and he was the poor bastard about to taste it.

but now? now you barely glance in his direction. you walk past him like he’s just another part of the furniture. take other tables. pour drinks with your back to him. laugh at other men’s jokes.

and jake watches silently. desperately. he tries not to, he really does. but his eyes betray him every time. they flick to you the second you walk by—legs bare, hair pulled back with a pen, lips glossed to hell. you smell like vanilla and cigarette smoke, and it’s infuriating how much he wants to bite that smell off your throat.

and the worst part is that he knows you’re doing it on purpose. because sometimes, just sometimes, he catches the way your mouth twitches when you pass his table. the way you shift your weight a little slower, lean over a little further when you’re grabbing something. and when he doesn’t look up—when he pretends not to notice—you bite your lip like you’re trying not to laugh.

you’re playing hard to get. which is adorable, really. but it works. fuck, it works.

jake sim, who’s spent most of his adult life being aggressively unbothered, now sits at this bar like a man possessed. he sips beer and imagines things he shouldn’t. he watches your mouth wrap around straws and thinks about how it’d look wrapped around something else entirely. he stares at your hands pouring drinks and thinks about them fisting in his shirt, pressed against his belt, sliding down—

he coughs. shifts in his seat. takes another sip and pretends like he’s not half hard just because you leaned against the fridge five minutes ago.

he doesn’t talk to you. hasn’t, since the festival. because that would mean giving in. and if there’s one thing jake sim is worse at than feelings, it’s losing. but god, the way you walk? the way you smile at the wrong people? the way you drop the occasional “cowboy” into a sentence like it’s not meant to ruin him?

it’s almost sweet, the way you’re trying to get under his skin. but also: it’s working. and he thinks, not for the first time, that if you asked—if you looked at him a certain way—he’d let you wreck his entire life. you could tie him to the back of his own truck, spit on his mouth, call him useless in front of god and the sheriff, and he’d probably thank you.

but you don’t look at him anymore. you just brush past him one more time, close enough for your skirt to kiss his knee, and say to no one in particular, real sweet: “why so sexy if so dumb?”

and jake swears to god he’s gonna start a bar fight just to calm down.

but the moment you step onto the dirt lot of the fairgrounds, sundress fluttering and sunglasses perched high on your nose, his brain short-circuits. he sees you the second you walk in. he pretends not to, of course. jake sim has made an olympic sport out of pretending you don’t exist. but you’re here, again. and he’s fucked.

he’s in the chute, adjusting his gloves, boots already caked in dust, chest strapped down tight like it might explode. he tells himself to focus on the ride, on the bull, on anything but the way your thighs are peeking out from under that goddamn dress.

you shouldn’t be here. he was hoping you’d show up, obviously, but now that you’re actually here, it feels like a setup. like god’s decided to make him fail in front of everyone and look good doing it. so he refuses to look directly at you. not while you’re standing near the fence, leaning against the railing like you’re modeling for the “ruin a man” calendar. not while you’re laughing at something some poor bastard just said, tossing your hair over your shoulder. and certainly not when you suck on that red snow cone.

he adjusts his hat lower. counts backward from ten. tries to remember how to breathe.

he’s still got it under control—mostly—until the moment he’s mounting the bull and glances toward the crowd just once. just a peek. and there you are, watching, with your lip between your teeth and a look that could sterilize holy water.

he slips. just a little. just enough for one boot to miss its mark and his hand to falter on the rope. no one notices. not really. but he does.

the ride still goes fine. better than fine, actually. he makes it the full eight seconds, lands smooth, wipes the sweat off his brow like he’s not a mess on the inside. like he didn’t almost fall off a 1,500-pound animal because you were licking syrup off your finger.

later, after the noise dies down, after the dust settles and the crowd starts dispersing into beer and music and gossip, you find him. he’s near the back of the stables, away from the noise. hat off, hair damp, shirt sticking to his back in places that make your hands twitch.

you lean against the wall, arms crossed, head tilted. he sees you coming. of course he does.

you don’t say anything right away. just look him over like you’re checking for bruises. “didn’t fall this time,” you say.

“not for lack of tryin’,” he mutters.

you raise an eyebrow. “the bull or me?”

he doesn’t answer. you take that as a win. so you step closer, slow. toe the dirt with your boot, pretend to be casual. but everything about you tonight is a performance, and he knows it. the cherry lip gloss. the dress with buttons that strain when you breathe. the way you keep shifting your weight like your thighs are begging for attention. you’re trying to get to him, and you are. but he’ll die before he admits it.

“you always ride that well,” you say, voice syrupy and cruel, “or was that just for me?”

“don’t flatter yourself, darlin’.”

“too late,” you grin. “flattered myself the whole way here.”

he laughs at that, but he still doesn’t move. you take another step. now you’re in front of him, barely a breath of air between your bodies. the tension crackles, like something’s about to snap. he looks down at you, his jaw tight, eyes darker than usual. you could kiss him, you could push him. you could drop to your knees and he wouldn’t stop you. but he stays still. and you know what that means. he’s losing it. slowly and deliciously.

so you just smile, all teeth and trouble, and say: “you gonna say thank you for coming, or do i gotta leave and come back so you can do it right?”

he looks down at you and decides—fuck it. if this is a game, he’s gonna play. so his hand lifts. two fingers hook lazily in your belt in your dress, just enough to make your breath hitch and your knees forget how to behave. he doesn’t pull, doesn’t tug, just lets it sit there. you blink up at him like you weren’t expecting him to do this. because you weren't.

“thought you came to watch the ride,” he says, voice like gravel and heat. “didn’t know you were hopin’ to start one.”

you’re stunned for a second, flustered. but you recover fast. your hand comes up, trailing a single finger down the buttons of his shirt, slowly. and you giggle. you say nothing, you only giggle and smile. then you step back, leaving him standing there with nothing but the smell of your perfume and a growing problem in his jeans. he blinks once. twice. and you’re already gone.

a few days later, he sees you again at the gas station. you’re sitting on the hood of your car. your car is pink, of course it’s pink. girly in that deadly way. floral air freshener, fuzzy dice, a sparkly steering wheel cover and a bumper sticker that probably says something like “yee-haw, bitch.”

you’re licking a cherry lollipop. wearing the tiniest pair of shorts known to mankind and a tank top that does nothing to hide your agenda. your legs are crossed, one foot bouncing lazily in the air like you have nowhere to be and every intention of being stared at. and people are staring. two guys walk by, heads snapping so fast they nearly sprain something. an old man in a tractor cap gives a long, disapproving look that lasts until he crashes into a trash can.

you? you smile sweetly. wave. keep sucking on that lollipop like you’re not ruining lives. and jake watches from the far pump, arms crossed, jaw tight, trying so hard not to enjoy the sight of you doing exactly what you do best.

and then, just like you’ve sensed him from across the lot, you slide off the hood, sway your hips across the concrete, and approach him with the most dangerous sentence in your arsenal: “cowboy,” you say, “i think i got a flat.”

he raises an eyebrow. looks at your car. no flat. you grin like the liar you are. “could you check for me?” you ask, voice all syrup and fake innocence. “i’d do it myself, but—” you shrug, twisting a strand of hair around your finger. “i don’t wanna chip a nail.”

he stares at you and you stare back. he knows what this is. you want him on his knees. and god help him—he’s thinking about it.

“you sure?” he says, tone dry. “seems like you’re the type to pop a tire just to see what crawls out the woodwork.”

“you caught me,” you beam.

he sighs, but he walks over anyway. you trail behind, delighted, watching him crouch down in front of your car, like he is your personal cowboy-themed thirst trap come to life. he’s in front of you, all strong hands and dirty jeans, touching your tires like it’s a performance.

you lean back against the hood. cross your legs the other way. suck louder on the lollipop, just to be mean. and jake knows the tire’s fine, he also knows he’s losing. and when he looks up—sweat on his brow, eyes half-lidded, gaze landing right between your crossed legs—you don’t say a word. you just smile and keep chewing. you got what you wanted: him on his knees.

and it happens on a thursday. the saloon’s half-full, sticky with the usual noise, and you’ve got a tray in one hand. you spot him before he sees you. or maybe he lets you think that. he’s sitting at the bar, same stool as always. sipping something dark with his hat tipped low and one leg stretched out like the floor belongs to him. he’s talking to someone, a girl you don’t recognize, leaning in just enough to make your stomach twist.

he’s smiling. he never smiles, at least not like that. and that’s when it hits you: he’s doing it on purpose.

your first instinct is to roll your eyes. your second is to walk over there and ruin both their nights. instead, you drop off your tray at the counter, smooth your skirt, and remind yourself that you’re not bothered. not even a little. so you circle around the bar, busy yourself with orders. chat with a guy in a cowboy hat, laugh too loud, lean too close. and eventually, you feel that static buzz that only comes from being watched.

you turn your head, and of course he’s looking. not just looking, jake is devouring. his eyes trail down your legs, up your hips, pause at your chest like he’s making a list of crimes he’d commit if the sheriff weren’t his boss’s daddy. and your heart stutters, your mouth dries. you take a step toward him before you even realize it.

but then he gets up and walks past you, doesn’t say a word. and you think, what the hell?

but then his hand brushes yours, just barely. like an accident that wasn’t an accident. you whip around to say something sharp, but he’s already halfway to the door. and you follow. you don’t mean to, really, but you do. you catch him near the back hallway, one hand braced against the wall, like he knew you’d come after him.

you open your mouth to say something clever, but he steps in real close. close enough that your back hits the wall and your knees almost collapse. “somethin’ wrong, darlin’?” he asks, voice all silk.

“what was that?” you hiss, trying not to stare at his mouth. “flirting with that girl like i wasn’t in the room?”

he smirks. smirks. “didn’t know i needed permission.”

you cross your arms. push your chest up just enough to be annoying. “you’re playing games.”

he shrugs. “so are you.” his hand lifts, not to touch you (the bastard’s too good for that), but to brush a piece of lint off your shoulder. “you looked a little jealous,” he murmurs, voice dipped in sin. “cute look on you.”

your pulse stutters, but you refuse to show it. “you’re gonna die alone,” you say, breathier than intended.

“probably,” he says. “but not before i ruin you first.”

you suck in a breath. his face is right there, close enough that if you leaned forward, you’d taste the whiskey on his lips. you think he might do it, you think maybe this is it. but he doesn’t kiss you. instead, he leans in slow, his breath hot against your cheek, then presses a kiss right there, soft and warm and maddening. the kind of kiss that doesn’t take anything but still leaves you ruined.

then he pulls back. smirking, so smug and infuriating. “goodnight, sweetheart,” he says. and then he walks away, like he didn’t just light a fire in your chest and leave it burning.

and there’s a party on the edge of town on that week—somebody’s cousin’s birthday or maybe just an excuse to drink next to a fire. there’s music blasting out of speakers in the back of a lifted truck, people doing shots, and you’re there, of course, making every poor bastard lose his mind just by existing.

you’re wearing denim shorts and a little white top that ties in the front, and jake sim wants to fight the concept of clothing for making something that looks that illegal.

he sees you before you see him. and he sees heeseung before you do. pretty boy with too-white teeth and too many opinions about his own biceps. he’s been in love with you since high school and never got the hint. but tonight, you’re letting him talk. you’re laughing, you’re standing close. and you don’t even have to look across the fire to know jake’s watching.

you toss your hair over your shoulder. heeseung says something about his new truck and how it “purrs like a mountain cat,” which isn’t a thing, but you smile anyway. you’re about to make some flirty comment just to push it further when a hand wraps around your arm.

not rough, not mean, just firm. you whip around and there he is. jake. his face is unreadable. calm, almost. but his grip says something else entirely.

you blink. “well, hey there, cowboy—”

“walk,” he says.

you try to act annoyed, dramatic. “what if i don’t feel like—”

“walk.”

so you do. he leads you away from the fire, away from the crowd, toward the gravel lot where his truck is. you expect him to say something, yell, maybe. accuse you of something dramatic and delicious. but instead, he spins you around and presses you up against the passenger door.

his hand is still on your arm. the other braces beside your head. his body doesn’t touch yours, not really, but he’s close enough that you can feel the heat off his skin and the tension coiled under it. you blink up at him, wide-eyed and fake-innocent. “is this how you treat all your women, cowboy? dragging them into parking lots and pinning them to cars?”

“no,” he says. “just the ones who know better.”

you gasp softly, it’s almost a laugh. “oh, so now you’re mad?”

he leans in, mouth inches from yours, eyes dark and hungry. “you wore that top on purpose.”

you smirk. “maybe i was hot.”

he looks down, pointedly. “you are. and you know what you’re doin’.”

“do i?”

he exhales sharp through his nose, like he’s trying not to combust. and when he speaks again, his voice is lower. “you really want him to touch you? that what you’re lookin’ for?”

you blink slow and wet your lips. “maybe i just want somebody who actually does it.”

the look on his face shifts just slightly. then he leans in. you think this time it’ll happen, finally, the kiss, the collapse. the moment the game ends. but instead, his lips graze your jaw, not your mouth. his hand dips low, fingers brushing the hem of your shorts like he’s thinking about it.

“you don’t want ‘somebody,’” he whispers. “you want me.” you’re not breathing. he pulls back again, just enough to leave you gasping in the space between what was almost and what still isn’t. “but you’ll have to beg, sweetheart,” he adds, smirking. “and i don’t think you’re ready to do that yet.”

he turns like he’s going to walk away again, like that’s the last word. like he didn’t just light a match and drop it between your legs. but this time, you don’t let him. your hand shoots out fast and grabs his belt loop. he pauses and stills, and slowly, turns his head back toward you.

“you think i won’t?” you ask, voice low and deadly sweet.

he looks down at your hand, still fisted in his jeans like a challenge. then his eyes flick back up to yours—dark, wild, curious. he steps closer, just one step. then another. until he’s right in front of you again, and this time there’s no space. no teasing, no gaps. just you, caught between a truck door and the worst mistake you want to make.

he leans in. both hands come to rest on either side of your head. caging you in and claiming the air between you. “careful now,” he murmurs, voice rough. “you’re not the only one who likes to play.”

and then his knee presses forward, between your legs. you gasp. it’s not subtle, not even a little. he fits it there, deliberate and slow, until your thighs part just enough to make room for the solid weight of him. his thigh is strong and warm. your breath catches and your fingers twitch where they’re tangled in his shirt.

he’s watching your face. watching your mouth, like he’s trying to memorize the exact second you lose composure. but you don’t, you smile. then, slow and wicked, you roll your hips just a little against his thigh—enough to make him grunt, low in his throat, like he wasn’t ready for it. “you started it,” you say, feigning innocence. “don’t get shy now, cowboy.”

he exhales sharp. one of his hands drops and wraps tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him. your shorts ride up. the pressure of his thigh against you gets sharper, filthier, almost unbearable. “you think this is a joke?” he growls.

“no,” you breathe. “i think it’s foreplay.”

his hand tightens. he shifts his thigh just barely upward, grinding it between your legs, and you have to bite your lip to keep the sound in. he leans in, mouth ghosting over your ear. “i could make you come like this,” he says, voice like a sin you want to confess over and over. “right here, against my truck, with nothin’ but my thigh between your legs.”

you shiver, but you smile. “you talk a big game,” you whisper, lips brushing his jaw. “but so far all you’ve done is flex in tight jeans and give me blue balls.”

he lets out a sharp laugh, dangerous. then his hands drop to your hips, grip possessive, and he rolls you against his thigh again. this time harder and filthier. like he wants to see how far you’ll let it go. your knees almost buckle. your head hits the truck window. but your hands are in his hair now, pulling, tugging, dragging his face closer.

and still he doesn’t kiss you. you pant, flushed and desperate and mad as hell. he just smirks. “look at you,” he says. “makin’ a mess on me and i haven’t even touched you proper.”

you glare at him and your lip curls in frustration. “maybe you’re scared.”

he arches a brow. “of what?”

“of me.” you press down hard against his thigh again—your move now, your game—and you feel him tense. feel him curse under his breath like you’ve just won a round he didn’t even know he was playing. you lean in and whisper against his mouth: “i could ruin you.”

he inhales sharp. you swear you hear him mutter fuck. but still, still he doesn’t kiss you. he pulls back, eyes wild, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile.

and then he steps away. leaves you there. aching and panting. blinking like you just came out of a trance. “one of these days, sweetheart,” he says, adjusting his belt like he needs a minute. “you’re gonna be the one beggin’.”

and then he climbs into the driver’s seat and drives away. you stare after him, thighs trembling, heart racing, and mutter:

“i’m gonna set his truck on fire.”

and jake sim spends the week trying not to think about you. which is stupid, because you’re everywhere. in his sheets, in his hands, in his mouth when he mutters fuck at two in the morning and fists his hair like it’ll shake you out of his head.

he sees you in the curve of a beer bottle. in the red of a stoplight. in the fucking grocery store, standing in front of a watermelon display like you invented sin.

he can’t focus. can’t sleep. can’t work. every time he bends over a fence or climbs into the truck, he hears your voice in his ear: i could ruin you. every time he closes his eyes, he sees your thighs wrapped around his fucking leg. he’s losing it. actually, clinically losing it.

and the worst part is that he let it happen. he swore he wouldn’t. told himself he wasn’t like the rest of them—the boys who lined up for your attention like fools in heat. he used to watch you tease and twist and toy with every man in town and laugh. not because he didn’t get it, because he did. but now he’s just another name on your list. and he hates it.

he’s a grown man. a cowboy, for christ’s sake. he should be immune to lip gloss and flirty banter and skirts short enough to send him to jail. but he’s not. and the worst part is that you know, you know what you’re doing. you know exactly how to stand, how to talk, how to glance up with that little tilt of your head like oops, did i break you again?

and he’s fucking gone. he’s a freak for it. a perv. he thinks about your mouth at church. he imagines your legs wrapped around his waist when he’s driving. he’s so far gone it’s pathetic.

so on thursday, when the thought of you cleaning up at the saloon alone hits him like a truck, he doesn’t fight it. he gets in the truck, drives like the devil’s chasing him. when he gets there, the bar is dark, empty. just the faint sound of clinking glasses and a broom dragging across the floor.

you’re behind the counter. sweaty and tired. loose hair falling around your face. still the hottest thing he’s ever fucking seen.

the door creaks open. you don’t look up. “we’re closed,” you call out, distracted.

then you lift your head, and you pause. your lips part.

his boots hit the floor. he doesn’t say a word. just crosses the room in four heavy steps, reaches for your wrist, and pulls you in like he needs you to breathe. and then— he kisses you.

not sweet. not shy, not teasing. hot, open and filthy.

he groans when your mouth opens under his, when your fingers clutch his shirt like you’ve been waiting for this just as long. his hands are everywhere, your waist, jaw, the small of your back. he kisses like he’s mad about it, like this is a punishment.

your back hits the counter. your teeth knock. a glass falls off. and still, he kisses you like he’s trying to erase the space between you.

he pulls back just enough to speak, breath hot on your cheek. “you win,” he mutters. “is that what you wanna hear?”

you’re panting, flushed. “not yet,” you whisper. “i like my man playing real hard to get,” you whisper, breath ghosting his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to tease.

and that’s the moment he snaps. his hands come up, cup your jaw like he’s trying to memorize it, and he kisses you hard, messy and desperate. and you moan, you can’t help it. he tastes like whiskey and salt and everything you’ve been dreaming about at three in the morning.

his hips press forward, tight against yours, grinding you back into the edge of the counter like he wants to leave a dent in your spine. and you grin against his lips. you reach back blindly, “you gonna keep kissing me like a saint,” you pant, pulling back, “or you gonna bend me over something, cowboy?”

his eyes go dark. “oh, you wanna act like a brat now?” he growls.

you smirk. “what gave it away?”

he grabs you, lifts you right off the floor and sets you down on a table like you weigh nothing. your legs part without hesitation and he steps between them, his hips hard against yours, and his hands gripping your thighs like he’s trying to decide which one he wants to ruin first. “look at you,” he mutters, eyes trailing down your body. “pretty little mouth, dirty little attitude.”

you tilt your head, all fake innocence. “you like it.”

he leans in close, mouth against your ear. “i’m gonna fuckin’ break you.”

your breath vanishes. his fingers trail up your thigh, slow, teasing, maddening. he doesn’t go where you want him, but just next to it, brushing the edges, watching you squirm. “i know what you need,” he murmurs. “you need someone to shut that mouth. teach you some fuckin’ manners.”

you wrap your legs around his waist. “you volunteering?”

he laughs, low and filthy. “baby, i’ve been applying for that job all month.” then he grinds forward, slow and mean, dragging a moan out of you that echoes across the empty bar. you gasp and clutch at his shoulders. he grabs your hips, presses them down, holds you there. “no running now,” he mutters. “you been beggin’ for this.”

you roll your hips up into his. “you liked it.”

he groans, kissing down your neck, biting just enough to make you gasp again. “liked it so much i nearly wrecked my truck thinkin’ about you.” his hand slips under your top. calloused fingers on your skin, rough and reverent all at once. he palms your chest like he’s claiming it. like he’s mad you let anyone else look. you arch into him, moaning. “so impatient,” he teases, voice a growl. “what happened to makin’ me beg, sweetheart?”

“shut up and fuck me.”

he smirks against your throat. “say please.”

you groan, kick your heels against his ass. “cowboy—”

“say it.”

you hiss, then lean in and bite his lip. “please.”

he pulls back just enough to smirk, breath hot against your lips. “please what?” he asks, voice low, gravel rough.

you glare at him, or at least, you try to. but your legs are wrapped around his waist, your hips aching for friction, and his hand is already creeping up your thigh like he’s got nowhere to be but inside you. so you say it, no shame. no power left to pretend. “please, fuck me, jakey.”

he groans loudly, like the words physically hit him. then he mutters something that sounds like jesus fucking christ, and crashes his mouth into yours. and this kiss is different. it is hungry and starving. he grinds against you, slow and hard, pressing you down into the table with the full weight of his body. your shirt rides up. your back arches. the wood creaks underneath like it might give out, and honestly—if it breaks, let it. you’ll thank it for its service.

his hands are everywhere. palming your thighs, squeezing your ass, gripping your waist like he owns it. “look at you,” he rasps, lips trailing down your throat. “fuckin’ dream girl of the county. all these poor bastards lining up for a smile, and here you are—legs open for me.”

you gasp and whimper and dig your nails into his shoulders. he presses his hips harder, grinds right against where you need him most. your head drops back, your moan echoes. “you love this,” he says, panting now. “bein’ up here where anyone could walk in. where anyone could see you gettin’ ruined by me.” you don’t answer, you can’t. “what happened to that bratty mouth, huh?” he growls, dragging his teeth along your jaw. “where’s all that sass now?”

“shut up,” you breathe. “just—please.”

“beggin’ again?” he taunts. “thought you didn’t do that.”

“i’m making an exception.”

he laughs, dark and hot, and grabs your hips tighter, pulling you to the edge of the table. “you should see yourself right now,” he mutters, undoing his belt with one hand. “look so fuckin’ pretty like this. so desperate.”

“you’re the one that came after me.”

“yeah,” he admits, lining himself up, voice breaking a little, “because i’m a goddamn fool for you.”

and then he pulls back. his hand wraps around your jaw, gentle but firm, tilting your face up to look at him. he’s flushed and panting. pupils blown wide. and his voice, when he speaks, is low and dangerous and thick with control he’s barely holding. “get on your knees.”

your heart stops and your grin widens. “you asking or telling me, cowboy?”

he presses his thumb into your cheek, leans down, kisses the corner of your mouth like he’s being nice before doing something awful. “i’m tellin’ you,” he mutters, “be a good girl and make me feel good.”

you blink slow, mouth open, pretending to think about it. “what’s in it for me?”

his hand slips down, fingers wrapping around your throat just enough to make you feel it—not choking, just owning. “my cock in your mouth,” he growls. “and maybe if you do it right, i’ll let you come later.”

your knees buckle, but your pride doesn’t. you hum, all fake sweetness. “guess i could use something to suck on.” you drop to the floor, knees hitting the sticky saloon wood like you belong there. he watches you, chest heaving and jaw tight. trying not to come just from the sight of you looking so cute on your knees for him. you look up at him, eyes wide, lips parted. “you nervous?” you tease.

he barks a laugh. “just waitin’ to see if the mouth that talks so much can finally do something useful.”

you pout. then reach for his belt, slow and dramatic, undoing it like it’s the last gift under a christmas tree. and when his cock springs free, hard, flushed, huge, your mouth waters. you glance up again. “you been thinkin’ about this, haven’t you?”

he hisses as you wrap your hand around him, thumb brushing the tip. “every fuckin’ night,” he admits, voice ragged. “jesus, i’d wake up hard just rememberin’ how you looked struttin’ around in those little shorts behind the bar.”

you stroke him once, twice, slow and sweet. then you lean forward, kiss the tip. just a whisper of a touch. he groans. his hand finds your hair, pulling it already. you drag your tongue along the underside, all the way down, then back up again. he swears, low and filthy. “look at you,” he rasps. “knees on the fuckin’ floor, pretty mouth full of me. you know how many men in this town would give their right hand for this?”

you hum around him. smile with your eyes, because you do know. and you love that it’s you doing this to him. so you take more of him in, then more. until he’s deep in your throat, and he’s gripping the edge of the table so tight you think he might snap it in half. “fuck,” he moans. “that’s it, sweetheart. just like that. takin’ me so fuckin’ good.”

his hips twitch forward. just a little, just enough to make you gag—on purpose, and he loves that. he loves the sound. he loves how messy your mouth is for him. so he starts to move in shallow thrusts. hand in your hair, not rough, but claiming. “you gonna let me come in your mouth, baby?” he groans. “gonna swallow it all, show me how good you are?”

you nod and moan, sucking harder, and that’s it. he gasps, his hips snap forward. his whole body shudders. he comes hard, hot and thick on your tongue, fingers tangled in your hair, voice wrecked. you swallow it all, slowly. wipe the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, like a brat.

you’re still on your knees, lips wet, tongue peeking out in satisfaction like you just finished dessert and might go back for seconds. he looks down at you, utterly wrecked. and then he laughs breathless and disbelieving. “jesus christ,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair like you just short-circuited every last nerve. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you grin, smug as sin. but then he leans down, and his strong arms slide under your shoulders, lifting you like you weigh nothing. you squeal, half-laughing, hands flying to grip his shirt. “hey—!”

“shut up,” he breathes. “my turn.”

he sets you down on the table again, right where you were before. but this time, he doesn’t kiss you yet. doesn’t even touch you. he just steps back, eyes dark and hungry. and says, “spread.”

you blink, chest rising. “what?”

he tilts his head, steps back in, hands firm on your knees. “you heard me, sweetheart. open up. now i’m gonna make you feel good.”

you part your thighs slow, watching his eyes drop, watching his breath hitch. you lean back on your elbows, head tilted, and he glances at the wet mark through your shorts. he drops to his knees, his hands grip your thighs, dragging you to the edge like he’s pulling you into hell with him. he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, slow and reverent, like you’re a prayer and a sin at the same time.

“you wet for me already?” he murmurs, hot breath brushing your core through your shorts.

you nod, breathless. “since you walked in.”

he grins. bites the soft skin just above your knee. “should’ve told me. i’d’ve come sooner.”

he yanks your shorts and panties down fast, like he’s impatient. because he probably is. so then—finally—he licks you. one long, slow stroke that makes your back arch off the table. you gasp. grab the edge and moan his name so soft it sounds like a confession.

and he devours you. not gentle, not slow. just hungry and precise, like he’s got something to prove. his tongue works you open, circles and flicks and drives you fucking wild. he hums when you buck your hips, groans when you moan. his grip on your thighs bruises. his tongue never stops. “so fuckin’ sweet,” he mumbles against you. “no wonder they all wanna taste.”

you whimper. he slides a finger in, then another. crooks them just right. your whole body tightens. your breath catches. “that’s it, baby,” he whispers. “ride my face. let go. give it to me.”

you do. you shatter, legs trembling, back arched, voice gone. you’re gasping his name, tugging his hair, begging him to stop or keep going—you don’t even know. he doesn’t stop. not until your whole body is shaking. not until your thighs twitch and your breathing turns ragged and your hand slaps the table in surrender.

then finally he pulls back with his mouth glistening with you. his smile is wrecked, his eyes wide and wild. he looks up at you like you just handed him the goddamn meaning of life. “holy fuck,” he whispers, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “you came so good for me, angel.”

you try to glare, you really do. but your limbs don’t work. your knees are jelly. your stomach’s still twitching in aftershocks. and then he stands, towering. glowing like he just found religion between your legs. and then he leans down, kisses your jaw, and says—soft and cocky— “think you can take one more?”

your eyes flutter open, you blink at him. “you’re insane.”

he grins and kisses the corner of your mouth. “that ain’t a no.”

you roll your eyes. but you’re already lifting your hips, already turning. and then his hands are on your waist, firm and steady, spinning you around until you’re bent over the table. your cheek presses to the cool wood. your arms stretch forward. “fuck,” you whisper.

he hums behind you, hands sliding up your back, bunching your shirt at your ribs. “look at you,” he mutters. “so goddamn ready. still drippin’ for me.” he leans over you, chest to your back, mouth at your ear. “tell me you want it.”

you inhale shakily. “i want it.”

his hand slides between your thighs. fingers glide through your wetness. “tell me who’s gonna make you come again.”

you gasp. “you are.”

“say my name, sweetheart.”

“you, jakey.”

he groans. lines himself up. and then he pushes in. you gasp, you arch and whimper. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, keeping you down, controlling the pace. his hips move slow and deep, dragging a moan out of you every time he bottoms out. “so tight,” he pants. “like you’re fuckin’ made for me.”

you moan his name again, cheek still to the table, one hand reaching back to grab at his wrist. he laughs low and feral. “no runnin’ now,” he growls. “you said you could take one more.”

his thrusts get faster and harder. the table starts to creak. your moans start to sound like pleas. and he’s loving every second. he leans in, bites your shoulder, mutters against your skin, “gonna fuck you so dumb you forget how to sass.” you gasp and grin. you push back against him just to be a brat. he grabs your hips, pulls you back onto him hard. “jesus,” he hisses. “you like this, don’t you? bein’ used like this.”

“i like you like this,” you pant. “all obsessed.”

he grunts, and slaps your ass with a sting that makes your knees wobble. you yelp. and then he laughs, breathless, wicked. “i’m not lettin’ anyone else touch you again,” he mutters, voice cracked open, raw in your ear. his hand comes down to your hip, gripping. “this?” he growls, grinding into you harder, deeper. “this fuckin’ mouth, these thighs, this perfect little pussy— all mine.”

you moan, loud and shameless. he leans in, mouth hot on your neck, and his hand slips around you, fingers finding your clit like they never forgot it. he rubs in tight, fast circles, exactly how your body begs for. “come for me again, baby,” he pants. “show me how fuckin’ pretty you fall apart.”

and you do. you break, and your cry punches through the empty bar, your walls clenching so tight around him it nearly knocks the air from his lungs. your hands scrabble for the edge of the table, your face buried, your voice gone, just moans, sobs, his name like a prayer you can’t stop saying. and then—still shaking, still high on it— you whisper, broken and filthy: “inside. jake. please—come inside.”

he fucking loses it. his hips stutter, his breath catches, his hand grabs your ass roughly. “fuck, baby—” his head drops to your back. his rhythm falters, he’s right there. “you want me to fill you up?” he growls, desperate. “want me leavin’ you dripping with me?”

you nod, frantic. “yes—yes, please—i want it, i want all of it—”

he groans, loud. his thrusts go messy. erratic. wild. “goddamn, you’re gonna ruin me,” he gasps. and then he comes, deep and hard. body shuddering as he spills inside you, hips pressed tight, your name falling from his lips like a sin he’s finally ready to be forgiven for.

his hand stays in your hips. his forehead pressed to your back. both of you panting. shaking. wrecked. and you smile, eyes closed, face against the table, voice barely above a whisper:

“told you you were obsessed.”

he laughs—hoarse, drunk on you—and kisses your spine. “shut up,” he murmurs. “you fuckin’ love it.”

after, at your place, after he wrecked you in every possible way, you watch him fall asleep beside you, arm slung across your waits like he is still trying to stake a claim. cowboy hat on the floor. love bite on his throat. your lipstick on his chest.

you smile to yourself. “i like my men playing hard to get,” you whisper.

lucky for you, he never stood a chance.

author’s note: soooo i saw this edit of jake in full cowboy mode and lost every functioning brain cell i had left. then i watched manchild by sabrina carpenter and went wait what if… so this fic accidentally became the most porn-with-plot thing i’ve ever written. but i regret nothing. cowboy jake has a chokehold on me and the saloon girl in my brain wouldn’t shut up until he was wrecked and begging. anyway, yee-fucking-haw 🤠

my masterlist // perma taglist: @rairaiblog @nqdirr @iyoonjh @saeris-world @jayparked @solonenova

© all rights reserved @/heejamas — do not repost, copy, translate, or modify my works without explicit permission. these are works of fiction and are not meant to represent real-life actions, thoughts, or personalities of any public figures

3K notes · View notes

avi-mation · 2 months ago

Text

Two doomed men + cat fluff

#doomed by the narrative but if i ignore it hard enough…#tma fanart #art #fanart #jonathan sims #the archivist #gerry keay #the magnus archives #doing tma re listen #back in the fucking building again #the biggest tragedy is that they havent met while alive

5K notes · View notes

ambar-telumendil · 2 months ago

Text

Lol everytime I read a time-travel fic :)

#tma #the magnus archives #jon sims #jonathan sims #draw #art #tma meme #meme #jon honey plz don't be so hard on yourself #oh yeah his fingernails was painted by Martin

5K notes · View notes

ceramini · 2 months ago

Text

DAMN IT NERD ⋆˚࿔ ARE YOU LISTENING?

pair loser!jake x hot!reader ͡ ͘◡ ꫶᳝᳜᳝᳜᳝᳜৯ tags creampie, cockwarming, overstim, dirty talk = nerd talk, jake likes legos ✿ scene jake is sweet, dumb, and accidentally packing a weapon between his legs. no one understands how he landed his insanely hot gf, not even him. but she loves him anyway, even if he won’t shut up about legos, star wars, or his ridiculous love for her… especially during sex. note let’s pretend jake likes star wars ─── library ⊹ ࣪

like + reblog appreciated <3 click to join taglist

You’re not even sure how you got here.

Well, no… you do know. You were in bed, legs tossed over Jake’s shoulders, back arched, spine pressed into the mattress like a damn sticker. He was inside you. Deep. Relentlessly deep, like he was on a fucking mission.

You weren’t sure what the mission was, but Jake clearly was.

He was, talking.

Still.

“You know the Republic Gunship set?” he pants, rocking into you a little too slow for how breathless he sounds. “I’ve been saving up for it. It’s so cool. It has, like—twenty clone troopers. Twenty. And they all have these little helmets that come off. I didn’t even know they did that until—until I watched this review last week—shit, you feel so good—wait, so anyway—”

You cut him off with a groan, fisting the sheets. “Jake.”

“Huh?” He looks down at you, blinking like a golden retriever who just got caught chewing drywall. “What?”

“You’re talking about Legos again.”

“Oh.” He pushes his hips forward with a little whine. “Sorry. You’re just so warm and I was thinking about that set and how cool it’d be to build it with you while we watch Clone Wars and—and—fuck, you’re squeezing me again.”

You squeeze him on purpose this time. “That’s because you’re babbling about minifigs while you’re raw inside me, Jake.”

His eyes go big. “You like when I’m raw inside you.”

“I did. Before you compared it to building a Lego set.”

“Okay, okay, fair.” He nuzzles your neck like he’s not splitting you in half. “But also? You’re kinda like a Lego set.”

You stare at him. “Jake.”

“I mean that lovingly.”

You drop your head back against the pillow. “I swear to God, if this is going where I think it’s going—”

“Because like. You’ve got all these beautiful little pieces. And I wanna learn how they all fit together. Every time I touch you it’s like I’m figuring out where the next part goes—”

“Jake.”

“—like, do I kiss here?” He sucks a hickey under your jaw. “Touch here?” Trails his hand between your legs. “Or maybe—fuck—maybe I just fuck you and see what happens.”

You’re clenching again. Hard. And you hate that it works.

He beams. “See? You do like my metaphors.”

“I like your dick,” you hiss, arching as he thrusts up and hits that spot. “I tolerate your metaphors.”

“You love my metaphors,” he says smugly, fucking deeper like he’s trying to prove it.

You moan into the heel of your palm. “You’re insufferable.”

Jake whimpers, forehead tipping to yours. “You’re so hot when you’re mean to me.”

“You’re hot when you shut up.”

He slows, just a little, and looks genuinely wounded. “You don’t like when I talk?”

“I love when you talk,” you gasp. “Just not when I’m trying to come and you’re talking about fucking battle packs.”

“Oh.” He slips out almost entirely, just to push in again, hard. You cry out. His ears go pink. “Noted.”

You try to glare. You really do. But he leans down to kiss you and his stupid soft lips and stupid tongue make you forget how to breathe, let alone stay mad.

And the way he’s throbbing inside you doesn’t help.

Jake pulls away with a dumb little grin. “I think I’m gonna come. Can I stay in? I know I asked earlier but I wanna make sure it’s still okay—”

“Jake, yes, God, yes—”

He sinks into you one last time and shudders, full-body, like he’s short-circuiting. You feel him twitch, warm and heavy, and moan his name as his hand clutches at your waist like he’s scared you’ll float away.

He comes like he’s overwhelmed. Pretty and flushed, forehead pressed to your collarbone, one hand gripping your thigh like a lifeline.

You’re both panting. Slick. Shaking a little.

And then.

“Did you know the Lego Titanic set is almost four feet long—”

“Jake.”

“Sorry! I’m just—still inside you and happy and thinking about boats and I love you and—”

You grab his face and kiss him hard. He whimpers against your mouth, cock twitching again, not soft at all.

You pull back. “You’re gonna shut up now, right?”

“Totally,” he breathes, blinking fast. “Except—can I keep talking if it’s just about you?”

You blink. “Maybe.”

Jake buries his face in your neck. “Cool. ‘Cause I was gonna say, you’re prettier than every minifig I’ve ever owned. Like, if you were a collectible, I’d never take you out of the box.”

You groan. “That’s not romantic, Jake.”

He laughs. “I thought it was.”

You wrap your legs tighter around him and sigh. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

“I’m lucky you let me fuck you.”

He kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then, very slowly, starts moving again. Just a little. Deep and slow, the kind of rhythm that makes your eyes roll back.

“Can I stay in?” he murmurs. “Just for a bit?”

You nod.

He smiles. “Cool. You feel better than any Lego set.”

You cover his mouth. “Just fuck me.”

You don’t know why you let him stay inside. You really don’t.

Maybe it’s the way he’s so big, the way he fills you up like you were made for it. Maybe it’s the post-orgasm brain melt. Maybe it’s the genuinely tragic puppy-dog look he gave you when he asked if he could just stay for a little while longer.

You said yes. Like a fool.

And now he’s talking again.

“Okay, but hear me out,” he mumbles against your collarbone. “If you were a Lego piece, I feel like you’d be one of those rare ones that only come in, like, three sets. And I’d trade my whole collection just to have two of you.”

“Jake.”

“Or like, like if I was building a Millennium Falcon and your piece wasn’t in the box? I’d cry. Like actual tears. I’d email Lego Customer Support and tell them it was a tragedy. I’d say my girlfriend is missing. That I can’t build without her. That it’s ruining my life—”

“You’re still inside me.”

“I know. That’s why I’m being romantic.”

You groan and throw an arm over your face. “Your idea of romance is comparing my vagina to missing plastic.”

“It’s not just plastic, it’s—hey, wait—” He props himself up on an elbow, wide-eyed. “Are you getting mad again?”

“I’m not mad,” you sigh. “I’m just. So full. And so tired. And you’re talking about spaceships and crying and clone troopers while your dick is still hitting my goddamn cervix.”

Jake flushes. Hard. “Oh. Sorry. I’m just…this is like, peak life for me. Like, I don’t know what I did to deserve you but I think about it a lot and it makes me feel like I should be doing more. Like, you’re smart, and you wear those little skirts that make my brain short-circuit, and you never make fun of me for how much I love Star Wars even when I definitely deserve it—”

“Jake.”

“Yeah?”

“Are you getting hard again?”

He pauses. You feel him twitch inside you.

“…Maybe.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I can’t help it!” he whines, and somehow he sounds genuinely upset about it. “You’re so warm and soft and I like how you clench when I say dumb stuff, and I know I’m not supposed to keep talking, but I love you and I’m having a feelings crisis and also your tits are out and I didn’t even mention them yet.”

You uncover your eyes and glare. “Don’t.”

Jake glances down at your chest. Immediately goes pink. “Too late.”

You shift under him and he moans, a soft, helpless sound like he’s ashamed to have made it. You can feel him starting to get hard again, slow and steady like a threat.

And the worst part is? You like it. Your body’s already reacting. He’s still so thick, so deep, and now he’s whining like he can’t help but want more of you.

“God, you’re pretty,” he whispers, like he’s confessing something serious. “And I’m, ugh, I’m such a loser, I know. Everyone always asks how I got you and I never have an answer. They’re like, ‘is she into Legos too?’ and I have to lie and say yes, just so they don’t try to hit on you.”

You laugh. You shouldn’t, but you do. “So you lie about me being into Legos to keep me safe?”

He nods solemnly. “It’s the only way.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Jake beams. “Your idiot.”

He leans down and kisses you again, sloppy, soft, so sweet it makes your stomach flip, and you groan against his mouth when he accidentally rocks his hips.

And just like that, you’re clenching again. Wanting him. Wanting it all over again.

He breaks the kiss with a gasp. “Oh. That was—yeah. We’re doing it again, right?”

You roll your eyes. “Not if you keep talking.”

“I can be quiet!”

“You can’t.”

“I can. Watch—” He places a hand over his own mouth.

You raise a brow. “You look ridiculous.”

He wiggles his brows, nods, then thrusts.

You gasp. His hand flies off his mouth. “Oh fuck, that was hot—”

“Jake.”

“Sorry. Sorry.” He puts it back. Mutters behind his palm, “I just love you so much.”

You stare at him, flushed, wrecked, still hard and inside you, his hand awkwardly slapped over his own mouth, and you realize something terrible.

You’re gonna marry this dumbass.

You sigh, toss your head back, and say, “Fine. Just shut up and fuck me again.”

Jake nods furiously. Slips his hand from his face and whispers, “Yes, Captain.”

You sigh into the pillow.

🪷 ─── @gyarumindd

5K notes · View notes

naomiarai · 2 months ago

Text

smut ── .✦ (18+) (nasty as hell too)

jake fucking you dumb into the mattress, he’s got your legs thrown over his broad shoulders, sweat dripping from his face onto your neck. he’s just got back from his trip, and god, saying he missed you was an understatement.

his thrusts are brutal and deep, cock dragging against your walls like he’s trying to stamp himself into your body. the bed rocks and breaks under the force of it, headboard slamming with each movement, the room echoing with sounds of raw sex— messsy and desperate. “fuck, baby,” he growls, voice wrecked, lips kissing your ear. “missed you, missed this sweet pussy, look at you, can’t even- hah– think, can you?”

he pulls back, enough to look down, watching your tits bounce with every slam of his hips, watching your mouth fall open like you can’ tt speak anymore. jake grins at the sight, “m’ gonna fuck you so full, you feel me for days” he suddenly drops your legs, and flips you on your stomach like your nothing, tugging your hips up so that you’re on your knees. his hand snakes into your silky locks, pulling just enough to arch your back, the other hand coming down to give your ass a sharp slap, that makes you jolt. “look at this pretty dripping cunt” he says, spreading your cheeks as he slides back in.

“o-oh! yunnnn!” you whine as he starts up again, hips snapping into you, hard and fast. you feel everything, cock, fat and veiny, the stretch leaving you breathless. jake leans over you, chest slick against his back, mouth right against your ear. “you like this, angel? like the way i get home, don’ even let you breathe before i fuck you dumb?” he rasps. your moans are muffled into the sheets as falls face down, hot tears streaming down your face. his fingers find your clit, rubbing, twisting and squeezing it mercilessly.

he keeps pounding into you, mushroom tip abusing your cervix endlessly as your gummy walls clench around his lenght. you feel his hand pull you back up as he turns your face around to face, placing a searing kiss on your lips. “open” he commands. you obey him, dazed and he lets a string of saliva fall onto your tongue, eyes locked on yours. “swallow it. good girl” you’re completely cock drunk, completely gone and he knows. he can see it your face, the way you take anything he gives you.

“f-fuck! feels so good, m gonna cum!” you moan out eyes rolling back. and you do, squirting out as you coat his dick in white. jake lets out a broken groan, cock twitching, as he fills you up with his seed, thick and hot as it leaks out of your swollen pussy lips.

4K notes · View notes

ireverie · 7 months ago

Text

see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader

pairing ↠ """nerd!"""jake x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, dubcon, oral (m receiving), male face sitting, face fucking, unprotected sex, blackmail, choking, hitting, virgin!reader

summary ↠ ever since forever, you have always gotten your way with people by whatever means necessary. a wink and a smile is all it takes to make a boy drop to your feet and worship you. no one told you to think that jake sim would be any different. as it turns out, actions do have consequences.

wc ↠ 14.9k

a/n ↠ jeno version of this fic posted on my nct blog revehae. yea, mine. i am her she is me. THERE WILL BE NO SEQUEL. feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

▸ short, sweet, sometimes sticky

it was supposed to be like everybody else.

short, sweet, maybe sticky if you considered that one time you’d shaken that sunoo boy’s sweat-coated hands and watched the pale of his face burn the same fierce rose as the lens he saw you through.

you’d laughed lightheartedly to spare him the embarrassment, telling him that everybody got a little sweaty every now and then, especially you. after all, cheerleading was more than skipping around and twirling. and at those words, you’d watched his eyes haze with the image of you damp with sweat, drenched head to toe.

hook, line, and sinker.

far too easy, exactly how you liked them. smart, easy, and utterly unable to resist you.

no one told you to expect something different from jake sim. and why would you? he knew all the right answers, had some of the best marks, and practically lived in the library. he perfectly fit the bill of your standard victim.

which was why you had no qualms about approaching him in the library while he was typing away at his laptop, occasionally sipping from some kind of coffee.

as if he could sense he was in imminent danger and needed to evacuate immediately, jake turned around before you could even make it completely to the table and saw you advancing on him with a pretty, practiced smile. “hi,” you greeted, waving at him. falling, your hands gripped the rear of the chair beside him. “is someone sitting here?”

jake raised a brow at you, but shook his head. “no, no one’s sitting there.”

“perfect,” you replied, pulling out the chair and taking a seat. you turned so that you were facing him. “jake, right?”

jake nodded slowly, wondering where this was going. he got plenty girls, sure, but none ever approached him in the library. “that’s me,” he said, curious. “do i know you?”

“well, probably not,” you replied, giggling as if something was funny. “but, you know… i’m a cheerleader.”

jake hummed. “are you now?”

you bobbed your head expectantly. “yeah, and i’ve heard about how smart you are. i’m impressed, to be honest. i mean, every time i’m in the library, i see you sitting here. i could never spend so much time here. you must have a lot of resolve to do something like that.”

“you think so?” jake asked, pretending to be flattered just to see where you were leading him.

“i do. like, really do,” you replied, brushing your fingers against his forearm. “i just have so many other,” better, “things to do, you know. with cheer, i’m either practicing or resting so that i’ll have energy for practice. it’s really hard on me, you know?”

jake stifled a chuckle and glanced back at his laptop screen. “you poor thing.”

your brows stitched. he wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to you. it was almost like he was uninterested. “and that’s why i was wondering if you could help me. i mean, you’re such a genius. you could probably do it in half the time it would take me,” you continued, lowering your hand onto his denim-clad thigh, and becoming surprised by how sturdy it felt.

jake spared a fleeting glance at your hand on his left thigh before his eyes flitted to your face, watching you wink at him and throw him a smile. “let me get this straight,” he started, slowly caressing the back of your hand with his thumb as it sat on his thigh. “you want me to… do your work for you?”

“hey, your hard work wouldn’t go unrewarded,” you insisted, ignoring the unexpected motions of his thumb. “you’d have my attention. i mean, like i said, i don’t have a lot of time to give away. but i’m willing to spend some of it on you.”

jake snickered, unable to help himself anymore. “are you this patronizing to everyone you meet?” he asked.

your eyes flickered. “p-patronizing?”

jake smiled, patting your hand before setting it on your own thigh. “sorry, was that a big word for you? you know, when you think you’re too good for something, but you don’t want to say it, so you play sweet and act like you’re helping me, when really, it’s the other way around.”

switching on a dime, you narrowed your eyes at him. for such a pretty boy, he had quite the attitude. “i know what patronizing means. and right now, i think you’re the one being patronizing.”

“am i?” jake asked, feigning obliviousness. “how’s it taste, cheerleader? doesn’t feel good, does it?”

your face was set in a scowl. sometimes it hurt you to play nice with people, and now was one of those times. “are you gonna help me or not?” you snapped.

“there it is,” jake sang, chuckling to himself. he put his hand on your thigh now, squeezing the flesh gently. for now. “there’s the real you.”

you swallowed, glaring over at him with a hint of defiance despite the disgusting, foreign feeling rotting in your chest. it had never gone like this before. every situation predating this one had been somewhat predictable, to the point where you’d come to expect certain reactions. this was not that.

“i’ll help you,” jake said after a pause.

you forced a smile. “great, so…”

jake interjected, “on one condition.”

smile faltering, you trailed off, processing his words. now he was making some kind of deal with you? who in the hell did this man think he was?

“on one condition?” you echoed, as if you’d somehow misheard him. your brows scrunched in suspicion. “what condition?”

jake grinned, the look on his face sly as hell and a stark contrast from the disgruntled glower on yours. “give me something in return,” was all he said, the tightening hold on your thigh giving away more than his words had.

you gawked, as if you were offended, and quickly swat at his hand. “i’m not having sex with you, you pervert!”

“sure, you’re not,” jake answered with a chuckle, eyes twinkling with amusement. everything about you was alluring to him for mostly all the reasons unintended. “but you said i’d have your attention. i guess you think it’s not often a poor, busy nerd like myself gets anyone’s attention, yeah? but nerds get tired too, don’t they? they need to de-stress…”

“that’s not my problem,” you spat.

“you getting an F isn’t my problem, either,” jake retorted, shrugging his shoulders. “so what it’s gonna be, cheerleader?”

something about this situation isn’t right to you. maybe it’s the lack of power you currently wielded over him, despite the fact that you had gotten used to having your way with academically competent boys like himself. if he weren’t taller than you and stronger than you, you’d resort to other, more familiar methods.

but jake had changed the entire trajectory of this interaction for the worse, and now you had to determine whether or not it was beneath you to let him treat you as if you were some kind of object. you sulkily mulled it over, arms folded, trying to think of a way to maintain some semblance of power. “fine,” you finally replied, relenting. “but i’m not doing anything that requires me taking my clothes off.”

“you never seen a good porno, cheerleader?” jake asked, a stupid, taunting smile blemishing his lips. “that cute little uniform of yours is the whole appeal to some people.”

“my name is…,” you huffed irritably, tired of being referred to by your title.

“frankly, cheerleader, i don’t care what your name is,” jake told you with brutal honesty. “you’re the one that introduced yourself as a cheerleader, like that’s your whole personality or something. thinking it would make me fold. you can’t be stupid and demanding.”

you gaped, affronted by the sheer audacity of him to even utter those words to you, like you were some dumb bimbo. “i’m not stupid! i’m just too busy.”

“right. too busy,” jake echoed, obviously none too convinced. “sorry for assuming.”

with a roll of your eyes, you stood up from the table chair, feeling utterly disrespected. “yeah, you should be,” you said, despite knowing his apology was completely inauthentic. “where’s your phone?”

jake arched a brow and glanced over to his phone, sitting face down against the table on the other side of him. before he could even respond, you reached over him to grab it and pointed it at his face, unlocking it as if you’d done it a million times before.

then, you started typing away, all the while jake watched you with an amused expression on his face. he had to admit, you were surely something. and though he found you entertaining, he couldn’t shake the thought that you desperately needed someone to put you in your place.

“reach me here,” you said after a moment, handing him his phone back. the screen was on his messages, a fresh contact with you. “pleasure doing business with you.”

with that, you walked away.

jake shook his head, scoffing. who the hell did you think you were?

over the next few days or so, you met with jake to better construct exactly what your expectations were pertaining to your work. or at least, those were the words he’d used. most of those limited encounters had ended with his hands sealing around your breasts.

you let it slide, deciding that a little over-the-clothes stuff was relatively harmless. after all, this was the busiest you’d been all year long, and you were far too exhausted when you got home to be burdened with stupid assignments and pesky discussion posts. the next two months, if not the next two weeks, were going to kill you if you didn’t have someone to carry at least half the workload on your behalf.

it was okay. jake’s inability to keep his hands to himself was fine. it wasn’t like anybody was going to know, or that this arrangement would last long enough for them to find out. you would get to keep your dignity and your grades, without saving one at the expense of the other.

short, sweet, and sticky, remember? maybe the latter was simply manifesting in the way jake’s hands were stuck to you. not that anything about him was sweet.

more like sacrifice.

▸ gilded age

“guess who just made the list of this week’s top ten trending sluts,” jennie said as she walked up beside you and roseanne.

roseanne perked up that, though she couldn’t help but mischievously quip, “you?”

jennie narrowed her eyes. “hoe, as if,” she spat. “i know how to keep my legs closed.”

you snickered. “god, what happened now?”

“a sex tape got leaked. hyeri, and apparently sunghoon.”

your nose scrunched, as if disgusted. “always knew she was a slut. i mean, you should have been there to see the way she acted around the jocks in high school. her eyes were practically screaming, ‘pick me, choose me, fuck me,’” you mocked.

roseanne burst into giggles, downing the rest of what was left in her red cup. “i don’t think that’s how that goes,” she chimed. “but sunghoon? is she crazy? i hope they didn’t do it raw. i heard rumors that he’s got the clap.”

“he sure clapped something, alright,” jennie retorted, much to your amusement. “it was definitely raw. hope it was worth the itch. you guys wanna see?”

“absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head vigorously. “i bet her parents would love to see it, though. on second thought, send me it.”

roseanne gawked. “are you serious?”

you bobbed your head, grinning deviously. “yeah. you guys have no idea what that bitch was like in high school. i tried teaching her a lesson, but she just never learned. it’s like the bitch is addicted to pain or something.”

jennie shook her head, pretending to disapprove, though she was intrigued to see how far you would your obvious loathing. “just sent it.”

your phone vibrated in your hand a few seconds later. you opened your instagram burner account, scrolling through your main’s following to find hyeri’s mother’s page, and dropped the video in her inbox. your sly giggle alerted your friends to your success and you dropped your phone in your pocket, satisfied.

“oh, you’re sick,” jennie insulted playfully, nudging your arm. “i wonder if she’ll say anything.”

you shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance as if you weren’t excited to see how her mother would respond. “don’t know, but i’m more curious about if she’ll talk to hyeri about it. i’d love to be a fly on the myung’s wall when that happens.”

roseanne tapped your shoulder. “hey, don’t look now, but that jake guy is staring you.”

your head whirled around, spotting jake in his own corner of the party, indeed watching your every move as if he wanted to consume you and was waiting for the perfect moment to attack. which, if he was, would not be surprising.

roseanne sighed in annoyance. “i literally just said don’t look now.”

you turned back to face them, shaking your head. “don’t worry about that creep,” you replied, brushing it off. “he’s just begging to get in my pants. didn’t even know he went to parties.”

for whatever reason, jennie laughed. something about what you said tickled her, apparently. “um, yeah. that’s jake for you, alright. he’s either partying with his friends or grinding in the library, no in between. perfectly balanced lifestyle, i have to admit it.”

your brows furrowed. that was news to you. and probably an important piece of information that you’d conveniently missed when narrowing down your targets. maybe you should have asked around about him more. you just didn’t think that someone who studied as hard as he did could also be the life of the party.

what was he doing here, anyway? shouldn’t he have been off doing your homework? useless fucking nerdy-not.

“do you guys know each other or something?” roseanne pressed, noticing the strange tension in the air despite the fact that you and jake were feet apart. which was honestly admirable. “do you think you could get him to put me on with jungwon?”

jennie’s laughter rang out again, only this time, it was much louder, and much more mocking. “please. jungwon isn’t gonna touch any of us after how she broke his heart. you’d have better luck with jaehyun,” she sneered.

roseanne glared, a snarl on her face. “fuck jaehyun.”

“yeah, i bet you want to. i bet you’re still dreaming of that big, thick, meaty dick you wouldn’t shut up about, like, two months ago.”

“a lot can change in two months.”

“oh, it sure can,” jennie replied, humming. “it sure can.”

▸ takes two to tango

jake: come over

you: no

jake: that wasn’t a request

you: no where in our agreement does it say you get to boss me around

jake: not even for an A?

you: that’s what your grabby hands are for

jake: i don’t have to do this, you know. i can let you be a grown up and fiend for yourself like the rest of us

you: i’m otw, chill. jesus

the knock of your fist against jake’s door was incessant, more than likely enough to exasperate his neighbors, given that it was particularly late at night and a good number of them had to have been sleeping.

jake threw the door open with a scowl, obviously irritated. “you are so fucking annoying,” he hissed, dragging you inside and shutting the door behind you.

“ow!” you cried out, snatching your arm away. “stop that, i’m sore.”

jake shook his head, his discontent frown disappearing in favor of an entertained, idiotic smile. “sore, huh? from doing what?”

you rolled your eyes. “if it isn’t obvious, i’m a cheerleader,” you reminded, gesturing down to your uniform. “meaning, i cheer.”

ignoring your snarky attitude, jake glanced you up in down, taking in the sight of you in that tight, short cheer uniform that clung to you rather snugly. sweat still beaded at your damp legs and likely gathered between your breasts and down your back, as jake was imagining. “yeah, you cheer. you won’t let me forget,” he said, amused.

“well, i’m busy,” you said, crossing your arms.

busy, my fucking ass, jake thought to himself. “yeah, you won’t let me forget that, either. and yet, i saw you giggling with your friends at a party two weeks ago, looking completely fine. your poor, exhausted legs seemed to be working perfectly.”

“what, so i can’t have hobbies now?”

“sure, you can,” jake replied, shrugging his shoulders. “i just have to ask, do you ever do anything productive with your time?”

“of course, i do,” you hissed, before quickly deflecting, “but we both know that’s not why you made me come all the way over here. so, what do you want?”

“your attention,” jake said without missing a beat. his hands plopped against your bare shoulders and began wandering down your arms, rubbing them back and forth. “i’m in desperate need of a cheerleader’s sweet, precious attention.”

the disgruntled grimace on your face was the most effort you made to express your discomfort, not that he was looking there anyway. to him, at the moment, the sight of your body was much more appetizing. you watched with a repugnant burn simmering in your gaze as his eyes met your long, slender legs.

without warning, jake grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you into the air, making you cry out in surprise. arms dangling around his neck, you held on for dear life, not an inch of your body feeling safe in his arms. you had been hauled further away from the ground by your cheermates, but this was different; no one wanted to fail, meaning no one would drop you. you had no reason to assume that jake would handle you delicately.

but his burly arms, however, were not lost on you. though you hadn’t yet seen them in full power, your interactions mostly taking form of him forcing your back flush against the chiseled muscle of his chest as he kneaded yours, you could only imagine what the hands that groped you were capable of.

in a matter of seconds, you landed on your back against his sheets, another shrill screech escaping your throat. “jake, what the hell?” you exclaimed.

“i’m not getting on my knees for you,” jake said, the slyest of smiles tugging at his lips. “not unless it’s to fuck you. and you’re just too good to give it up, aren’t you?”

for him, definitely. and you would have said so, but your lips parted in a gasp, surprised and startled. something wet pushed along your sore legs, which were abruptly yanked to pillars far above your head so that they’d be more conveniently within reach of jake’s tongue as he licked long, hot lines at them.

your eyes were rooted on him, fixed in a shape unlike their natural narrowed, black blaze and it would instead be more apt likening them to the fear and fret of a deer in crossed paths. wide, waiting, almost innocent. too used to circumstance to understand its fabric and too unfamiliar to chance to understand its fate.

unsatisfied, jake bent your knee and pushed your leg further as he stood over the edge of his bed, and, in turn, over you, a grip on your ankles that you could feel in your bones. “jake, that hurts,” you whined.

jake didn’t understand why you were bitching. “but you’re a cheerleader,” he echoed. “aren’t you flexible?”

you writhed uncomfortably as he continued shamelessly, tongue even daring to twist against the bone underneath the bend of your knee, a sensation that itched more than you expected. his lips sealed around your skin, sucking and nibbling.

needless to say, it was unlike anything you had experienced before. “stop, that’s weird!”

“stop complaining,” jake groaned, pushing your leg even harder. “it’s like all you ever do is complain about how hard your life is.”

your eyes stung now not only with loathing, but the threat of hot tears. it was stupid; it sounded dramatic, but you felt it was warranted when he was the one actively making your life harder. “you’re a fucking weirdo,” you snapped.

jake heard it. the slight tremble in your voice despite the courage you’d been feigning. that was the sole reason he even bothered to look up at your face, the tears in them stealing his attention away in a heartbeat. he didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed, or maybe even both. “god, now you’re crying,” he pointed out. “i haven’t even done anything to you. do you need me to give you a reason to cry?”

you shook your head. all you needed was to go home and recharge. you were beginning to doubt whether or not he was worth the trouble he carried with him in exchange for a grade that would keep your parents off your back, especially if he was going to make pulling stunts like this a regular habit.

the last thing you expected jake to do was tug the bottom of your top past the shadow of your breasts, slackening the taut grip on your ankles in favor of your wrists as if he knew you would dare resist him, and burying his face between your chest. you exhaled shakily, mortified by the hot, wet feel of his tongue licking a stripe between your breasts, gathering leftover sweat on its tip.

and you did thrash. but you were getting a taste of that power now; a power that wasn’t your own, a power that you couldn’t reap. a power that grabbed you with its calloused fist with a might so strong you couldn’t move. and it was for the first time that you felt utterly weak. there had to be a word for something as unfathomable as that, but it was so foreign to you that you couldn’t think of it.

to make matters worse, jake was taking his time, sucking bruises onto the skin of your chest in between his licking, as if he wanted to ensure there was no spot left untouched, no drop of sweat left behind. your face strained with discomfort, wanting more than anything to get away from him and this awful feeling rotting inside of your heart.

maybe your cries for mercy were heard, because no sooner had you hoped for an end than it came. “you can go now,” jake said, pulling away. he pulled your shirt back down and smoothed out any wrinkles, which was almost kind of him.

even though you were more than eager to be rid of him, you lay there, dumbfounded. it was one thing to be violated, and it was another to be dismissed, but to happen in rapid succession of each other quickly bred some ugly emotion that was only festering.

jake had expected you to scurry out of his bed, and out of his apartment, so the fact that you were still there bemused him. “what, do you want more?” he teased.

you shook your head, sitting up a little too quickly. your head started to feel lightheaded. you barked, “that isn’t what i agreed to!”

jake had the audacity to laugh. like you had told a joke of some kind. “isn’t it? your clothes are still technically on. that was what you agreed to. remember?”

you dropped to your feet, pushing past him. “you’re disgusting,” was all you said, making a beeline for the door.

“takes two to tango, baby,” jake called after you, simpering.

you didn’t look back. you couldn’t. there was an unpleasant stir in your gut - not as easily distinguishable as the loathing - unlike anything you had ever felt and you desperately wanted it to go away, to rid of yourself of anything that even remotely resembled jake sim.

▸ chess, not checkers

deep, low grunts smacked against the walls and bounced back with almost the same amount of vigor of jake’s quick, unrelenting hips, the sound nearly as hard and heavy as he was. the only thing rivaling the tightness of the hole he was using was the wince of his closed eyes and the grip of his strong hands.

jake didn’t want to see. it would be too blatantly obvious that she wasn’t you, and that it wasn’t your blemished hips he was holding. though she sounded nothing like you. he knew that you would have been so much whinier, and despite finding them painfully obnoxious, he found himself longing to hear all your worthless, melodramatic complaints.

instead, he heard soft moans mingling with his own labored sounds as his hips moved with a mind of their own, imagining it was you underneath him where you truly belonged.

the image stained the back of his eyelids, burned behind them every time he closed his eyes; the shortness of your pleated skirt scrunched around your hips, weak legs on his broad shoulders with nicks and bruises scattered here and there, arms swinging aimlessly.

and if he got tired of hearing you, he could simply press his palm squarely against your mouth, muting the sound of your incessant fussing. if he really wanted to put you in your place, he could clasp his hands around your throat and clamp down onto your windpipe till all that escaped you was a pitiful, featherlight squeak.

jake could tell no one had ever properly put you in your place before, no one had ever stood up to you and reminded you of your level. you were in desperate need of a humbling and didn’t even know it yourself. no one better than jake for the role, he figured. a little cheerleader parading around in a uniform to feel different from everybody else she met didn’t scare him whatsoever.

the only thing saving you was essentially the fact that you were undeniably pretty and not necessarily to blame for the school’s superficial culture, which elevated girls like you in terms of status despite it having no real meaning or manifestations outside of campus, and put you on top when you were within the bubble.

but outside the bubble, away from the boys who thought of you as this beautiful, unattainable poison and the girls who enabled you with a faux sense of togetherness, you had no real identity, no real power, and no real worth.

and yet, maybe jake was contributing to the problem. maybe he had inadvertently become one of the people elevating you. because choking in the heat of the moment, he uttered your name, forgetting who he was with and where he was.

hands shoved at him, hard. at least, hard enough for him to be jolted out of his reverie, finally gazing into the eyes that seethed because of him. “did you just call me that evil witch’s name?” seoa barked.

jake winced. that was a fair reaction, all things considered. he wouldn’t have wanted to have been called your name out of everyone’s, either. he rubbed his nape. “well…”

“unbelievable,” seoa replied, scoffing. she got out of the bed and hurriedly began picking her clothes up from the floor, redressing herself.

jake exhaled a breath, mostly annoyed that his orgasm had been ruined, but still feeling a hint of sympathy. “seoa, wait,” he said, touching her shoulder.

seoa recoiled, pulling away. jake had never seen anyone be so ready to put on their pants after being with him, not even with a hell of a schedule after. “never touch me again,” she spat, walking out with her shoes in tow. “fuck you.”

jake ran a hand through his hair, watching her leave, and murmured under his breath, “god dammit.”

a few days later, while they were attending a festival, jay marched over to jake, draping an arm over his shoulder, and asked, “wanna tell me why seoa blocked all of us and she’s been glaring at me and mark since she got here?”

jake snickered, shaking his head in slight disbelief. he was over it by now, he figured she would be too. “i let a certain cheerleader’s name slip while i was balls deep inside her,” he confessed. which he wasn’t necessarily proud of, considering the only reason he even knew your name was because you’d saved your own contact on his phone.

jay’s brows furrowed, glancing around as if he was trying to spot you in the crowd like a heat-seeking missle. “who?”

rolling his eyes, jake grabbed the back of jay’s head with one hand and turned it in your general direction, hoping it would help. and jake knew it had when jay’s confusion melted into disgust.

“oh, that bitch?” he asked, nose wrinkled.

jake chuckled, releasing his friend’s head. “she’s a bitch, but she’s pretty.”

jay couldn’t argue with that fact even if he’d wanted to. “yeah, i’ll give her that. cute in the face. she’s fake as hell, though. played jungwon like a fiddle. he did six months worth of her homework because she promised they’d get together.”

that was news to jake. he knew you were cruel, having had stories from sunoo and the like, but he never knew of your history with jungwon. if it could be called that. “did they fuck?” he couldn’t help but ask.

jay shook his head, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand before he answered, “he said she always turned him down. told him she was waiting for ‘the perfect moment.’”

now that was funny as hell. jake had only known you for a few weeks and yet even he quickly pieced together that you weren’t the romantic type. “well, that’s fucked up,” he said, happily accepting yet another reason to dislike you. “but he’s dumb as fuck if he did her homework for six months without getting a crumb of pussy in return.”

jay made a face, nodding. “yeah,” he exhaled, giving the impression that he’d wanted to defend jungwon. “but man, what possessed you to say her name while fucking the seoa? i need a good excuse. you just blew my shot with her.”

jake shrugged. “don’t have one. she approached me maybe three weeks ago asking me to do her homework, and i agreed.”

jay gawked. that didn’t sound like jake. like at all. “man, what? is she paying you?”

“oh, dividends,” jake quipped.

“oh, and in what? pussy?”

“nope.”

jay looked horrified. he was so damn dramatic. “then, why the hell are you doing her bidding? that doesn’t sound like you.”

it didn’t, not immediately, but jake had his reasons. “entertainment purposes,” he replied curtly.

jay shook his head, taking another swig of his drink. certainly, he was drinking, not smoking. “you’re becoming her pawn for entertainment purposes? unbelievable, bro.”

“chess, not checkers, jay.” jake smirked, putting a hand on jay’s shoulder. “you’ll see.”

▸ things good guys do

“you’re lucky i was already out,” jake told you when you let him into your apartment. “it’s the middle of the night for fuck’s sake. what do you want?”

“oh, please,” you spat, damn near rolling your eyes. your arms were folded. “you get to call me over at the ungodly hour, but when i do it, it’s a problem?”

jake exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, wondering why he bothered to come here when he had no obligation to do your bidding, as jay had put it. but something told him that he wouldn’t have any regrets. “yeah, it is. now, what do you want?”

you were silent for a few moments, somewhat ashamed of the request you would ultimately make. you sighed, surrendering. “i need help with calculus,” you finally said.

jake’s shoulders drooped, eyes shrinking in a contemptuous disbelief. “seriously?”

“seriously,” you repeated, sitting down on your couch as your laptop screen glared back at you from the coffee table.

jake groaned, “i seriously don’t know how you even got into this school. can’t you do anything by yourself?”

you gawked, affronted. he made you sound like some incompetent, immature dickhead. “contrary to a weirdly popular belief, i’m actually really smart,” you insisted, having the transcripts to prove it. “but my professor sucks and i need an eighty-nine on my final to keep my A. and it’s not like you can walk in and take it for me because it’s proctored.”

jake shook his head and reminded, “you know this little agreement we have doesn’t include me tutoring you, right?”

“it didn’t include you assaulting me, either,” you retorted.

“you think that was assault?” jake asked, scoffing. he dropped beside you on your couch, the proximity instinctively making you suck in a breath. “if i wasn’t a good guy, i’d show you assault.”

scooting over to ensure maximum distance between your bodies, you argued, “good guys don’t call themselves good guys.”

“good guys have self-control,” jake replied matter-of-factly, resisting a chuckle. he didn’t make a move to touch you, but he noticed how tense you looked now that he was sitting beside you. “i’ll tutor you, but we’ll have to up the terms of our agreement.”

you swallowed sharply, throat bobbing. you had a feeling you weren’t going to enjoy these new terms. “what do you want?”

“a blowjob.”

“that’s disgusting,” you spat without a second thought, features contorting with repugnance.

jake quipped, “and so is your inability to do your school work without using and depending on every intelligent boy you meet, but hey, i’m sure you can’t help that.”

you sighed, exasperated, and cradled your face in your hands. was this seriously what your life had come to? giving a boy a blowjob in exchange for a pretty transcript?

jake grinned, appreciating the sight of you in distress. it was a sign, a good sign, and he intended to bring it out of you more and more, bleeding you absolutely dry. lowering a hand onto your thigh, he urged, “come on, bruise those little knees for me. don’t you bruise ‘em for cheer?”

“that’s not the same!” you whined.

“of course, it’s not,” jake said, squeezing your thigh as his shoulders trembled with laughter. “cheer isn’t helping you graduate with flying colors.”

you desperately wanted him to be wrong, you were begging for him to be wrong, but you both knew that if he was, he wouldn’t have been here with you at the moment. not now, not three weeks ago, not ever. so you sucked it up, slamming down your laptop lid, and grumbled, “fine.”

maybe he didn’t come here for nothing, after all. grateful he’d trusted his gut, jake stood up and clutched your arm to pull you along with him. “come on, let’s go to your room. i like my blowjobs a little messy and i’m sure you don’t want to mess up your nice carpet.”

you snatched your arm away from him, hating his insistence on touching you for every little reason whenever he possibly could, even if it was insignificant. your mouth was taut as you begrudgingly headed for your bedroom.

it was obvious that you were sour. walking behind you, jake couldn’t help but chime, “glad to see that you can at least walk by yourself!”

you bristled in annoyance, wishing you could just get rid of him, but you knew it wouldn’t be wise to discard him so quickly. at least for now, he still held some kind of value.

jake walked in behind you, looking particularly radiant, and you hated that you knew why. hell, you hated the reason itself. “get on your knees,” he commanded.

normally, you would complain about him giving you orders as if you were his lap dog or something, but you just wanted to get this over with. you were already so over this entire week. you slowly dropped to your knees, trying to ignore how demeaning it felt.

“good girl,” jake praised at your compliance. “now, look up at me with those pretty eyes and ask me to help you with calc. ask me nicely.”

you met his eyes, noticing the expectant glimmer in his gaze that you so badly wanted to knock off. but you weren’t dumb enough to incite violence against a grown man that walked around with his bulging muscles on display for all the world to see, and you didn’t doubt that he would hit you back. “jake, please help me with calculus,” you pleaded, choosing your battles.

jake hummed, satisfied. “you sound so pretty and sweet when you ask nicely, instead of demanding things. didn’t know you were capable of that,” he told you, running his fingers through your hair. “take it out. get me hard.”

your hands moved to his sweatpants, tugging at them enough to bring them down just shy of his knees, and doing the same with his underwear. he wasn’t hard yet, but that would be an easy fix; witnessing your state of pure anguish, watching you speak and move as if you were totally dejected, always excited him.

not to mention that the sight of you on your knees for him, the more he took it in, was arousing him even more than he thought it would. he had pictured it in his mind before, you serving him, pleasuring him, existing solely for him, but nothing could compare to the sight he beheld now.

at least, nothing other than you actually doing something rather than sitting there like an idiot. he liked taking control, but he figured you would take matters into your own hands, literally, when he gave the order. “do you need me to tell you what to do or something?” he asked, huffing irritably. “put your tongue on it. tease the head.”

your face and ears burned in ways they rarely did, but you nodded wordlessly and did as told, bracing your hands on his thighs and reluctantly pressing your tongue onto his tip, looking anywhere but his eyes as the muscle swirled around.

that amused jake to no end. at least for now, he would let it slide, not feeling the need to maintain eye contact with you at the moment. if he needed to, he would simply just grab a nice, thick fistful of your hair and yank it back to jolt your head up at him. he could still see your pretty, bare face, hair arranged messily at the top of your head with a few needless strands jutting out here and there.

he liked that. of course, he would have been more than enthusiastic to have you suck him off if you’d been all dolled up, making you ruin your makeup and undo at least an hour of careful, clean work, but he also just took pleasure in seeing this natural, undone part of you. he wanted to see you for what you really were.

it didn’t take long for him to get hard. with all his thoughts revolving around you and the feel of your tongue on the head of his dick, that was a no-brainer. “good, now put it in your mouth. take as much as you can and not an inch less,” jake instructed.

widening your mouth, you accepted his stout, heavy cock into your mouth, lips forming a tight suction around the head and steadily advancing down his shaft. bit by bit, inch by nightmarishly thick inch. you had made it maybe halfway down his shaft when you quickly discovered your limit.

jake was surprisingly content, despite the fact that you definitely still had a few more inches to go. “there you go,” he said, giving your head a soft pat of approval. “suck. go slow. and don’t you dare let me feel any teeth.”

your heart was thumping out of something you could only understand as fear, even though jake hadn’t done anything to warrant it yet. inhaling through your nose, you tried to level your breathing, taking your time to draw in his cock lest you made a mistake. the hint of warning in jake’s voice, in spite of the calmness, was clear.

jake, on the other hand, was reaching elysian heights. faint grunts of, “fuck,” escaped his pink lips, large hands at his sides reflexively tensing into tightly clenched fists in need of something to grab, hips just barely stuttering. your mouth was hot and wet, with the added benefit of your torturous tongue pressed against his size.

there was a pinch of desperacy in your actions that overcame the resistance; a desperacy not necessarily to please him, but to appease him. accidents were the last thing you could afford and eliciting his frustration was the last thing you wanted.

“lick,” jake said, chest undulating. “up and down.”

with a hum, you started drawing long, wet lines back and forth on his veiny shaft, almost as if you were tracing the bold veins with your tongue. jake’s reaction was instantaneous, deep groans the only thing you could hear other than the wet sound of your mouth on his cock, sucking and licking.

jake’s eyes fluttered closed. “fuck. yeah, like that.”

you pressed your tongue against the underside of his dick, lingering in each spot for a moment before you continued, mostly because he seemed to like it when you did. which was your north star in an empty, dead night, because you had not a clue what the hell you were doing and you were afraid of making it obvious somehow.

if jake could tell, he didn’t make it known. he was in a world of his own, all too happily reaping the pleasure from your mouth as if it was a dream come true for him. “kiss my balls. lick it.”

you stifled the sigh you were half tempted to let loose, pulling off his cock with a wet sound and a string of saliva connecting from the sticky tip to your glossy lips. moving your head, you took a moment to steel yourself before peppering tiny, soft kisses along his balls, down to his scrotum.

it wasn’t the most dignifying thing you had ever done, it may have even been the least, but your aching, sore jaw appreciated the break from sucking. you dragged your tongue over his testicles, tasting nothing but rubbery flesh. you were too busy avoiding his eyes to notice, but his face was tensing with pleasure, lips parting in low murmurs.

compared to when you first started, jake was drastically harder now, massive, monstrous cock nearly bursting at the veins with precum leaking out from the thick tip. had your goal been to take all of him entirely, the sheer size of him would have immediately overwhelmed you.

“switch to your hand and go back to sucking me off,” jake said, firm yet quiet. it sounded like he was trying to restrain himself, barely holding it together.

at least you were a fast learner. teasing the head of his cock, you gave it a few slow, tentative licks before you began to take him into your mouth again, all the while gently fondling his balls with your fingers. jake groaned, arching into your touch. he couldn’t help himself.

you could taste the vicious amount of precum staining your tongue and you didn’t know how to describe it, other than slightly tart. the flavor blended with that of your own saliva, lingering on the roof of your mouth and the warm flesh underneath the flap of your tongue, mild as could be.

at least it wasn’t downright awful. you had heard stories before, not that you’d ever known what to make of them, or even pictured yourself being inside of them. if a month ago, someone had told you that you’d be on your knees for a man - for anyone - you would have said they were delusional.

jake’s patience had worn thin and when you least expected it, he hauled you into the air, making you cry out in surprise just as you had the first time he’d lifted you into his buff, meaty arms. he tossed you onto the bed, just shy of the headboard, and suddenly straddled your chest. you gasped out a breath.

“open up,” jake said, cock positioned right in front of your mouth.

not that he gave you the time to obey him, because he pressed himself against your slightly parted lips and forced them wider, entering your mouth on his own. your face strained, perfectly threaded brows tugging down into a discontented arch.

when you tried to pull away, jake grabbed the sides of your face and pushed you onto his shaft with trembling hands, making you take him and leaving no room for escape, not until he decided he was done with you. there was only one concern present in his mind and that was getting himself off.

tears stung your eyes, that same implacable feeling you had when he’d dragged his tongue over the expanse of your soft, shaved legs and bare, sweaty chest finding you again in the most of unwanted company. jake scoffed, spitefully tugging at your hair. “you know what’s funny? you’re such a fucking crybaby. you can’t take even half of what you give to others.”

chin flush against his scrotum and your nose not even an inch away from his bush, you almost gagged. the slurping sounds were humiliating, loud, wet squelching with every other big gulp making you want to shrink. however, jake loved it, obsessing over the idea of making a mess out of you. the sound went straight to his dick.

jake held your face in that low position, deeper than you’d ever taken him so far. “i’m really not that bad of a guy, you know,” jake said, sounding like he truly believed it. you could have scoffed, if not for obvious reasons. “you just bring it out of me. i’m really just treating you like how you treat everybody else.”

he made you sound like something straight out of hell and you couldn’t help but think it was an unfair justification for something that felt too close to punishment. he obviously thought he knew you better than he did and it made you aggravated. that, or he somehow thought he was better than you.

there was a fleeting second of relief when jake unmounted your chest and let you breathe, only to be crushed again when he dragged you by your wrists to the edge of your mattress, leaving you in the deep end. your eyes struggled to grasp with the flipped image of him nearing you, cock back down your throat before you could even blink.

though his hips thankfully had been moving at a calmer, steady pace before, despite forcing himself deeper than you could handle, he began to thrust more urgently into your mouth with the new change, embedding himself even further into your throat than you knew was possible.

you cried harder, hating every second of it. the salty, bitter tang of your tears mingled with the tainted taste of spit and sharp bite of precum that had come to stain your chin and cupid’s bow. the vigor of his movements was overwhelming, overpowering.

“that’s it, cheerleader. cry harder,” jake taunted, tracing his thumb over your face to swipe at the trail of tears. all the while his hips were moving faster, harder.

it felt like such a mockery, him doing that. a feigned act of sympathy while perpetuating the torment that was reducing you to tears as a selfish means of achieving pleasure of his own.

then, his hands wandered down to your breasts, slipping inside your night shirt and mauling your chest. running his hands in a circle, his thumb brushed the erect, colored nipples and he clasped his hands around your chest, squeezing your breasts. “fuck, i’m close,” he grunted, grip tightening, pace hastening, force increasing.

with how close he was, your nose was squarely against his the flesh of his balls, effectively cutting off your exhale. your heart thudded, racing and pounding. tensing with panic, your hands frantically moved, striking at his navel and thighs. even your legs were in alarm, unstill towards the other end of the bed.

jake groaned, smacking your cheek. another slap followed the sizzle, straight against your chest. “calm the fuck down,” he hissed, raising his arm in preparation to hit you again. “i’ll let you breathe as soon as i come, so you better not get in the way, if you know what’s good for you.”

even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stay calm. your body physically couldn’t handle it, responding the only way it knew how, trying to protect you. somebody had to. you closed your eyes, face warm with tears and panic, and you tried to brace your hands on the sheets, anything to comfort and stabilize yourself.

it got to a point where jake couldn’t hold back anymore and he climaxed with a prolonged, guttural groan, hips still brutally smacking into your mouth as he painted your tongue and the back of your throat with his cum. he went as far as to grab your head again, forcing himself onto you as deep as he could go, and demanding, “swallow it.”

like hell you would. you pushed him away, coughing and choking as soon as you did, drops of cum pooling from your mouth and some of it flying here and there in the midst of your coughing fit.

irritated, jake pressed his tongue against the roof his mouth. “you’re so fucking useless,” he groaned, grabbing his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and quickly turning on the camera. “look at you. sitting here choking on my cum. you want it again, don’t you?”

you sat up, nearly tumbling over the edge of your bed from the intense convulsing, and turned to face the other way as you hunched over, tightly clasping your sheets. “fuck off, you got what you wanted!” you rasped.

jake laughed. you sounded so gravelly. “you’re right. i did,” he replied, putting back on his pants and pocketing his phone. “so, tutoring. i’ll see you tomorrow. nighty night, cheerleader.”

he gave you a pat on the head and turned, heading straight for the door.

▸ hard feelings

something about today was different than usual.

when you woke up, you had felt a shift in the air, but you’d chalked it up to being nervous about the final you had in three hours.

but when you finally went to go take it, however, you quickly realized that the unsettling feeling you had was not simply pre-exam jitters. it was something much more sinister than that. with the status you held on campus, you were used to being watched and gawked at, but this was different.

it felt like everybody and their mother was looking at you.

you were confused. you had been the subject of this much attention before, but only once; it was a couple years back when someone had spread a dirty, foul rumor about you. there was a social media page for your school called top ten, mostly used to shame women for their sexual exploits, but some men made their way on it too. that was how you heard about sunghoon’s clap rumor.

long story short, a rumor about you had originated there and it had taken you weeks to clear your name. but by that time, there was already another slut of the week. you were lucky to have your situation not only be false and debunked, but word of mouth. only the most unlucky of people, like hyeri, got images or videos of themselves posted.

and you were a community favorite. you would understand if you were new, but you had built a reputation around here. why would anybody believe floating rumors about you now?

but the abundance of stares didn’t end there. even in the cafe, you had caught someone watching you a little too hard to be a casual leer of admiration. and you were determined to find out why.

fortunately, you were able to find jennie and roseanne walking and talking in the courtyard, and you called out their names to stop them.

jennie turned first, and you watched her smile drop in real time. she glanced around, frantic, as if she was worried about someone watching her too.

roseanne smiled thinly, halfheartedly lifting her hand to wave. “hey,” she greeted quietly, matching jennie’s nerves.

they knew something you didn’t and it was glaringly obvious. “what’s going on?” you asked. “everyone’s looking at me and i know i’m not going crazy yet.”

jennie and roseanne glanced between each other, as if they both had bad news but neither of them wanted to be the one to tell you. after a few seconds, jennie groaned and said, “you might want to check top ten.”

your brows furrowed. you, on top ten? again? god, people could be so infuriating. “ugh, what rumor did they spread about me this time?”

jennie winced, which only made you more anxious. “it’s not just a rumor,” she whispered. “…it’s a video.”

“video?” you echoed in disbelief. that didn’t make sense. you hadn’t been with anyone except… except jake. you tensed with anger.

roseanne opened her phone to show you the video that had been posted. it was an anonymous submission that claimed to be a recording of you. unfortunately, it was you, bits of your chest exposed from jake reaching into your shirt and drops of cum landing there as you fought for breath. your face wasn’t visible, but there were some other distinguishing signs, like your hair and skin and sheets.

your heart thudded and your shoulders went cold, but your eyes were scalding. you were well aware that jake didn’t like you, you didn’t exactly love him either, but you never thought he would stoop low enough to hurt you like this.

“i’m sorry,” roseanne apologized, dropping her phone in her purse when you were done. the video was only a few seconds long, but the damage was forever. “but don’t worry. it’s not like it’s top three worthy. everyone will move on next week.”

jennie nodded in agreement and briefly patted your back. “yeah. we’ll hang out again when this all blows over, i promise.”

then, they walked away. leaving you reeling with ache and betrayal. your friends didn’t want to be seen with you anymore. you were an embarrassment.

you swallowed the bitter feeling scorching up your throat and tapped your pockets for your phone, knowing there was one person you needed to see.

you: you and i need to talk. right now.

jake: about what?

you: don’t play dumb, i know you sent that video in!

jake: maybe u should have swallowed

you: you know what, i don’t need you. i never have. and i don’t want your help anymore. just leave me alone

jake: [one attachment]

jake: you sure about that? because i’m sure there’s plenty of people that would love to see the version with your face in it

you gawked, hiding your phone screen against your chest while glancing around to make sure no one could see.

adjusting your brightness, you unlocked your phone again and texted him back hurriedly.

you: why are you doing this?! i’ve never done anything to you

jake: this is bigger than just you and me

jake: now if you don’t want everyone to see that pretty face, come put those lips around me again and we can work something out

and that was how it started. though you hadn’t had the upper hand in weeks, this was the moment you completely lost it. what was once an arrangement for him to help you in exchange for your attention became a hole of misery that you couldn’t dig yourself out of.

one blowjob became two, and two became three until you started to immediately recognize what it meant when you saw his name appear on your screen, knowing what it was before he even asked. not that he ever technically asked. it was always a command, a claim to your body wherever and whenever he wanted.

if you tried to be strong, if you tried to break free of him, he always threatened to make sure that recordings of you on your knees for him went up for all the world to see and no one would ever think of you the same way again. he was more than willing to taint the pretty, perfect image of yourself that you presented to the world.

you felt stuck, trapped. isolated with nowhere to go, no way out. you tried to conjure up a way to escape this situation, but you couldn’t think of anything feasible. if you wanted to protect what was left of your social life and dignity, if you wanted to go outside without being ashamed, your only option was to be compliant.

no matter how many late nights and sore throats you had to go through.

you were in the middle of dozing off, your head leaning off to the side, when the sound of your phone ringing suddenly jolted you awake. you were tempted to ignore it until you saw the contact and begrudgingly pressed the phone to your ear. “hello?” you grumbled.

“i’ve been texting you,” jake said, sounding miffed.

you sighed, glancing over at the clock on your nightstand. “it’s literally two in the morning,” you complained. “i just got home from cheer practice and i’m trying to study for my last final. i haven’t even showered yet.”

“aw, poor thing,” jake crooned, pretending to care. “come over.”

you heartless, selfish bastard, you snapped in your head. of course, you were in no place to say that out loud, so you settled for a calm, “okay,” and hung up.

stifling a yawn, you grabbed your keys and lazily stepped into a nearby pair of shoes, stretching your arms above your head before willing yourself to get up from your desk chair. then, you accidentally scraped your leg against the bottom drawer of your desk, which you’d accidentally left open.

“ow!” you cried out, bending down a little. “god, why does this world hate me? what did i do wrong?”

it was a wonder you managed to make it to jake’s apartment without getting into a wreck, although at this point, you wouldn’t care if you had as long as it killed you. or put you into an indefinite coma.

on the other hand, jake seemed strangely enthusiastic to see you and looked full of life and energy. “there you are, cheerleader,” he said, pulling you in to hug you from behind. he led you over to his couch, much like he always did.

you covered your mouth with your elbow as you yawned. “can we get this over with? i’m sleepy.”

jake chuckled. “i don’t want you to suck me off. not right now.”

your brows furrowed, wondering if you had heard him right. if not for that, then why were the hell were you here?

“i’m sad,” jake said, not even attempting to keep the smug smile off his face. “i need you to cheer me up.”

you blinked at him like he was stupid. “cheer… you up?”

jake nodded his head, glancing you over with a grin. you looked like hell. partly because you were so obviously exhausted, but he knew he’d been having an effect on you too. “yeah, cheer me up. you’re a cheerleader,” he reminded, sounding proud of himself. “i want you to do your routine for me.”

you gawked in disbelief and whined, “i’m not even in my uniform.”

“so?” jake asked. “those bones might be tired, but they still work. matter of fact, take everything off.”

you were quick to exclaim, “what the hell? jake, can i please just do it later? everything hurts.”

“take everything off,” jake repeated, his voice more stern this time. “and move your ass.”

defeated, you reluctantly began to peel off your clothes, ignoring the way jake shamelessly ogled you for the sake of your own comfort and tugging your shirt from above your head. you couldn’t even look at him as you abashedly stepped out of your shorts and panties.

what was even more mortifying was having to perform every stupid little routine for him with your entire body on display and your chest bouncing with every motion. putting on the sweet, forced smile and calling out the chants you’d memorized, all the while ignoring how your bones ached.

when you were done, he made you sit in his lap so he could touch you as he pleased, paying no mind to the way you squirmed uncomfortably.

you cried enough tears to occupy a sixth ocean the next day. you weren’t exactly sure why. you just remembered miraculously waking up in your bed, sitting up and staring into empty space, and the water crashing down after a few minutes. it took you even longer to notice you were sobbing.

after a couple of meaningless hours, you got the random urge to call your mom, yearning to hear her voice. “mommy?” you said when she picked up.

“she calls,” your mother chirped, pleasantly surprised. “hi, baby. i was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about little ole’ me. you know, you never come see me anymore.”

you forced yourself to laugh, trying to strip your voice of the agony so that she wouldn’t notice. “i know. i’m sorry,” you apologized quietly. “i’ll come see you soon.”

“you better,” your mother snapped playfully, no real malice in her voice. “now, what’d you call me for? and don’t say just to check up on me, because that’s a damn lie.”

“i miss you,” you confessed.

“a lie don’t care who tell it.”

“ma,” you groaned, knowing she was just messing around. “i swear i do.”

“mm-hm,” your mother hummed. you could already picture her in your head, eyeing you with suspicion, arms folded over her chest. “let me guess why you really called. you’re having boy trouble.”

your eyes flickered in surprise. how did she know? you doubted it was exactly what she was thinking, but she was close enough. “yeah, something like that.”

there was no doubt that your mother sounded excited. you had always seem thoroughly uninterested in boys and dating, and while she was thankful when you were a teenager, it was a little worrying now. “it’s about time,” she said, clasping her hands together. “tell me all about it.”

you sighed, wondering how you could tell her about jake without making her fret. she had gotten all pumped, you didn’t want to tear her down and ruin everything. “well, there’s this guy i met almost two months ago. at first, i didn’t feel anything for him. he was just another boy, you know. someone i could keep around for a good time, not a long one.”

your mother hummed again. you could hear metal pans clacking against her counter and assumed she was cooking. she always did that.

taking a deep breath, you continued, “but everything changed. he’s different from every other guy i’ve dealt with. he doesn’t just do what i say because i say so. and as the weeks passed, he’s started listening to me less and less than he already was.”

your mother chuckled. “and you didn’t like that, huh? got your mother’s stubborn heart and indomitable spirit.”

in truth, you didn’t think you had half of your mother’s strength, but you would never tell her that. as far as she knew, everything was going perfectly in the life you’d created here on campus. and it probably was the last time you’d spoken to her. “yeah,” you replied, wishing that were true. “i don’t like it. he makes me feel something i’ve never felt before.”

“he makes you feel powerless,” your mother told you. “he’s got you feeling weak because he’s the first man you’ve ever met willing to stand up to you. trust me, i was surprised the first time too. that’s how you got here.”

“ma,” you groaned with a wince.

she laughed. the sound made you happy, something you hadn’t been so certain you were capable of feeling anymore. “i’m just keeping it real.”

you thought about her words. she may have been way off in her perception of what this relationship between you and jake really was, but she wasn’t wrong about how he made you feel. weak, powerless. suddenly, this consuming feeling you’d been having for weeks finally had a name, and yet that made it even harder to come to terms with.

because you didn’t want to be powerless. you wanted to be in charge, in control. you hated when things didn’t go your way, and more importantly, you hated when there was nothing you could do about it. it was supposed to be you wielding power over people’s head, not being crushed beneath the weight of tyranny.

and it was then you fully realized the scope of your feelings; you absolutely hated jake sim.

▸ cheerleader? breed her!

standing there in a skimpy dress, face done and your feet clamped in heels that made you four inches taller, you didn’t feel like yourself.

you thought that you would. in truth, you hadn’t feel like yourself in months. today marked a little over two months since you made the mistake of beginning that agreement with jake and you regretted it more than anything. he had completely ruined you, your life, and everything that made you feel whole.

there were pieces of yourself that you would never get back, thanks to him. it was true that everyone had forgotten about the ordeal regarding the recording of you, but not without cost. it was a price you were still paying everyday; even when you weren’t on your knees or otherwise commiting demeaning acts for the sake of jake’s entertainment, you were hurting and mourning yourself.

you were starting to wonder if it was worth it. obviously, you liked being respected amongst your fellow students, but you were no longer certain if their respect was worth the price of your sanity. it was hard for you to even have basic interactions without giving away how incredibly lonely and isolated you felt, how trapped and doomed you were. helpless and powerless.

jake came up behind you, startling you. he was like a wolf and you were a little lamb masquerading as a wolf. “there you are, baby,” he said, snaking his hands around your waist. he seemed to love doing that. “did you know our anniversary was a few days ago?”

you scoffed. the two-month anniversary of the worst decision of your life to date. there was nothing you would’ve give to undo it. doing your homework yourself would have spared you so much unnecessary pain. “stop doing that,” you whined, scanning the party. “someone will see.”

jake chuckled, clearly not giving a damn. “unlike someone, i don’t really care what people think about me.”

you wished you didn’t care. there would always be a part of you that cared, that was so afraid of what people could say about her that she would do anything to tailor her image perfectly. matter of fact, it was all you had cared about in high school, and every year after that was spent maintaining the brand.

jake’s hand went from your waist to your ass, making you tense in his grasp. “you know, i think i deserve some kind of compensation for putting up with you for two months.”

you deserved that too. freedom. being unshackled from his cruel, unrelenting orders was the one thing you wanted most and the one thing he refused to give you. “don’t you have your compensation almost every day?” you asked irritably.

“that’s not nearly enough,” jake insisted, squeezing your ass.

god, how greedy could someone be? it was like he wanted to bleed you dry until there was nothing left.

“you know what i want?” jake asked huskily, leaning into your ear. “i wanna fuck you.”

your eyes widened a little. you had hoped this day would never come, even though you weren’t oblivious to the fact that jake had steadily gotten bolder in his interactions with you, the things he made you do for his satisfaction becoming entirely more erotic.

grabbing your arm, jake started to lead you away. “come on, let’s go.”

you rooted in place, nearly stumbling. you didn’t want to go anywhere with him, especially if it meant putting up with his insatiable urges. “jake, i don’t want to,” you said, trying to push at him.

jake scoffed, wondering when you would realize that he didn’t care what you wanted and you had no way of winning. “if you want to make a scene in front of all these lovely people, be my guest,” he hissed in your ear.

panicked, you glanced around the crowd in search of someone that could save you. it was like everybody was looking at you until you actually needed them to.

then, you locked eyes with jungwon. matter of fact, it seemed like he’d been looking at you much before you’d even glanced in his general direction. he saw you, saw the way jake was holding you roughly, saw the obvious stiffness on your face, saw the pleading look in your eyes; but ultimately, jungwon saw the image of you letting him down after bleeding him dry for half a year, and he turned away.

your shoulders slumped in defeat.

jake started dragging you toward the stairs, pushing past a bunch of drunk people dancing on each other. your heart was thumping, and your whole body was rigid with nerves as you tried to think of a way out of this even though you knew there was no option without consequences.

just your luck, the bathroom jake hauled you too was empty. he pushed you in and locked the door, pressing you against the counter. you gasped and glanced at your reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing yourself. “jake, please,” you whispered, trying to plead with him. “please, don’t do this.”

jake didn’t seem moved by your begging, but he did, however, appear amused. “why are you acting so sensitive about this after all we’ve done together? it’s like you’ve never gotten fucked or something.”

you swallowed, not saying a word.

the silence was very loud, very telling. jake arched a brow, a realization dawning on him. “you really have never been fucked,” he said, surprised. “damn, i should have figured that out when you were acting like you never sucked dick before.”

your face flushed with heat. it wasn’t like you were necessarily embarrassed about it, not until now. you had always taken it as something to pride yourself on, being fuckable but untouchable. “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” you replied, glancing down at the sink to avoid eye contact.

jake chuckled. it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he had been convinced that you were completely pretending to be a goody two-shoes. to know there was at least one percent of you that was still pure amazed him. he lifted the skirt of your dress with his hand and brought it between your legs, asking, “what, you just never find anyone worthy enough for your perfect, sacred pussy?”

you gasped out when he touched you there. his fingers circled your clothed cunt, thumb digging into your inner thigh. feeling scandalized, you grumbled, “maybe i’m just not interested.”

jake shook his head, astonished by the amount of attitude you still had after all these months and determined to break it out of you. “and maybe i just don’t care if you’re interested or not.”

it went without saying that jake always made you feel like some kind of object, but this was next level. “this is dehumanizing!” you exclaimed.

hearing you, of all people, talk about dehumanizing made for an interesting conversation. big, calloused hand pressing harder into you, he asked tauntingly, “doesn’t feel good, does it?”

your glossy, painted lips were parted, unable to breathe through your nose. your eyes burned with the threat of tears and it was becoming second nature for them to shed whenever jake was nearby. “i don’t understand,” you whimpered, trying to free yourself, but to no avail. “why are you doing this to me? what have i ever done to deserve this?”

jake could feel you struggling, trying to push him off you, but all it did was move your hips against his rapidly hardening cock. he groaned, grabbing hold of your ass and pushing you further back against him. “fuck, just like that,” he growled. “haven’t i told you this already? this is bigger than you and me.”

it wasn’t lost on you that jake obviously had heard stories about you from other people, stories of happenings you probably couldn’t deny, but it had nothing to do with him. “look, if you’re doing all this to get back at me because i hurt one of your friends or something, i’m sorry, i really am. but i can’t do this anymore, jake. i want to stop, please. please let me go on with my life.”

“what a privileged response,” jake hissed without concealing his vitriol. at the same time, he kept palming you over your panties, noticing them beginning to cling to your cunt, and tore your underwear to the side to insert a pair of fingers inside. “what about all those girls whose lives you ruined? i’m sure they wanted you to stop. and you didn’t until they were too humiliated to show their faces around here again and you had no choice.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. he knew about the girls? “jake, i haven’t done that since freshman year,” you told him, desperately trying to reason with him.

two loud, harsh smacks echoed in the tiny, crowded space of the bathroom, followed by a gasp consequently. your pussy stung, your head jerking around to look at jake. “do you really think that matters?” he asked, grabbing your hair to turn you back around just as quickly, as if you didn’t deserve to look at him. “you think that matters when the pain you’ve done to them is permanent? they don’t forget. and they damn sure don’t forgive you.”

you tensed, hating the way your walls were gripping and gushing around his fingers. “so what? you think you’re god or something? is this you punishing me for my sins? you’re not exactly what i would call a saint, either.”

“me and you, we’re not the same,” jake remarked, a nip to his tone as if you needed the reminder of how much he disliked you. “you only pick on people that you think are below you somehow. people you think won’t fight back.”

“i know i’m not a good person,” you admitted in between gasps, thighs straining as his fingers pumped into your pussy harder, faster, reaching places you’d never touched on your own. “ i know i don’t deserve to be happy. maybe i don’t even deserve to be treated with respect, but please leave me this one thing. spare me just this once.”

jake laughed cruelly, pulling his fingers out of your drenched hole and smearing your juices all over your folds and thighs. his finger unintentionally swiped over your sensitive clit, making your legs quiver and your stomach tighten, sucking in itself.

“damn, baby. you really know how to hurt my feelings,” jake said, voice dripping with sarcasm. he withdrew his fingers, bringing them into his mouth for a taste. “you don’t want me to fuck you that bad?”

your heart was spiking with dread, thumping belligerently in your chest, your ears, and between your legs. no one had ever made you feel so vanquished.

“take my dick out,” jake said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “hurry up.”

you sighed anguishedly, turning around to undo his pants and slip his aching dick out of its confinements. for months, jake had been suppressing the urge to fuck you, wanting to wait for the moment where it would be most pivotal.

getting a hold of your throat, jake roughly yanked you flush against him the second you whirled back around to face the tiny bathroom counter, making you stand tall against his chest. his voice was almost as rough as the hands that held you. “put it in.”

you gawked, shaking your head.

his fingers tightened dangerously around your windpipe, making your damp eyes widen and your jaw slack against his whitening knuckles, maybe half a wheeze making its way out your throat before he warned, “if i have to fucking tell you again, i’m gonna crush every bone in your goddamn neck.”

with no other option, you meekly reached behind you to grasp him in your quivering hand, aimlessly steering him to your hole and sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as the tip brushed past your dripping folds. jake released a shaky breath, slapping your hand away and rutting his hips into you from behind, sheathing himself inside in one go.

he slackened his unforgiving grip on your throat, shoving you back against the counter none too gently, but you still felt like you couldn’t breathe when he entered you, a mangled whimper echoing out. your fingers desperately braced the edges of the counter for purchase as you tried to will yourself to inhale, but it was like you were choking.

jake had a death grip on your thighs, forcibly pushing them apart a little more as he coated himself with the creamy, hot wetness of your unwanted arousal. “mm, hard to believe you don’t secretly want me when you’re sucking me in like this, baby,” he said, proud.

you shook your head in denial, face flushing with a heat that spread to your ears and neck. it didn’t help that there were beads of salty, hot tears pouring down your face and reducing your vision to one big, hazy blur. you didn’t want him, not even a little bit. but you couldn’t control the way your body was responding.

the lewd, wet smack of his cock thrusting deeply into your tight cunt rang out so loudly that you wanted nothing more than to hide into oblivion and never be seen again, mortified. it made things seem so much different than they were. his long, thick cock was stretching you beyond the cusp your limits and making you gape.

“i’m so nice to you,” jake said, tipping his head back. you could see his chest rising and falling through his clothes, his body taut with pleasure and excitement. “i’ve been holding back for so long, trying not to fuck you. won’t keep me out this pussy now. i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out. have you at practice limping.”

your knees, wobbly as they already were, began knocking into the cabinets at the bottom of the sink. you winced your eyes closed as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter roughly enough to change the color around your knuckles, hoping to think of something, anything, to take you out of the moment.

but it was too hard. you couldn’t ignore the throb of your gushing walls as they kneaded his cock, making him grunt in your ear as he leaned over your backside. you couldn’t ignore the faint sting of his nails stabbing your hips and his heavy palm slapping repeatedly against your ass. and you definitely couldn’t ignore the dirtiness staining you from head to toe.

sure, it felt good, his body rocking against yours steadily, but it didn’t feel right. many nights you had pictured what losing your virginity would be like, both the way that it was supposed to look and the way that you were more inclined to, but this was neither; it was heartless, it was punishing, and it was brutal.

jake grabbed you by your hair and forced you to look into the mirror, yanking your head up. “there it is,” he spat, words sounding painfully familiar. “there’s the real you.”

your hair was messy from him tugging it every which way, treating you like a doll to mishandle. your makeup was ruined from your sobbing, the path of your tears harsh against everything else. your eyes were red and your right lash looked like it was barely holding on, the effect of rubbing at your face.

jake watched you take in the destroyed sight of yourself, practically hearing the critical thoughts hopping in your mind. “this is what you really are. this is what you’re sucking my dick to keep hidden from the world. is it worth it, baby? or do you just like the way i taste on your tongue?”

no, it wasn’t worth it. you were beginning to understand that now. he was taking too much from you, too much of your peace and too much of your sanity. maybe it would be better to be judged and lonely but free than to be loved by people whose opinion of you could change on a dime anyway at the expense of your soul.

your pride had been buried a long time ago, brutally murdered in her sleep. “jake, please stop. i’m uncomfortable,” you complained, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in shame.

jake smacked your ass again, making you cry out sharply. “you just love being the victim when it’s convenient for you, huh?”

“i’m sorry!” you whimpered. “i don’t know what you want me to do. what do you want? just tell me.”

jake snickered, running his hands over your hips and waist to knead the flesh. then, he brushed your hair out of your face, nibbling at the skin behind your ear before growling, “you know what i want, cheerleader? i want to assassinate all there is that you love about yourself and leave everything else untouched, so that you understand not why everybody hates you, but why nobody loves you.”

those words hit you straight in the gut. for the first time, you had no retort, no comeback.

hips beginning to move faster, jake continued, “the boys don’t love you, they just want to fuck you. they would kill to be as deep inside you as i am. the girls sure as hell don’t love you. they either want to be you, or they resent you for beating their asses. and don’t get me started on those girls you call friends.”

“jake, stop,” you whispered, an agony vicious enough to rip through flesh tearing you straight in half.

but jake didn’t listen. he wasn’t done, not until he made his point. “don’t think i didn’t notice how lonely you were for the whole week everybody was talking shit about you. they didn’t want to touch you with a six foot pole, did they? they don’t want to be seen with you unless it gives them a good rep.”

there was a pang in your chest. you didn’t want to admit it, but that cut deep. you had heard people say mean things about you before, it was to expected when you were an emblem of popularity on campus, but few things had reached you where it hurt.

jake stroked your messy cheek, almost with affection. “but it’s okay. because you want to know something, baby? it was hard for me to admit it to myself, but you truly fascinate me. i can’t get you out of my head sometimes. you piss me off every time without fail, but i keep coming back to you. i like you, baby. if no one else does. you grew on me.”

you weren’t sure if that was supposed to make you feel better, but it didn’t. if anything, you only felt more heartbroken and wounded not only by his words, but by your inability to counter them. it truly dawned on you, right then, just how alone you were.

jake threw his head back, grunting. his hips were moving with a mind of their own, eager to finish. “fuck, i’m gonna come.”

your eyes went wide in panic, remembering that he had gone in bareback.

“jake, don’t…”

before you could even finish your statement, jake clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling your protests into his pale palm. “you know what guys at my school used to say about cheerleaders?” he asked, obviously not expecting a response. “‘see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader.’ ‘cheerleader? breed her.’”

you thrashed, but it was pointless. those thick, burly biceps of jake’s were one of the first things you noticed about him and they weren’t just for display. he held you in place as he quickened his pace again, his thrusts unrelenting.

with a couple more quick yet shockingly rhythmic thrusts, jake emptied his load deep, deep inside you. he moaned, moving his hands from your mouth to your hips to keep himself steady as he reeled from the pleasure of a mind-numbing orgasm. “goddamn,” he cursed, panting for breath.

you stifled a small noise as you felt his warmth flooding into you, unsure how to feel at this point.

to your surprise, jake started fucking you again, never once daring to pull out as if he was determined to fuck every drop of his sticky cum as deep inside you as it could reach. his stringy, thick load gathered on his dick and inside your pussy, leaking down your thighs as he kept going.

you gasped out, moans involuntarily leaving you as you were stuffed full of him over and over. you didn’t mean to, but it was impossible to control.

then, jake stuck a hand between your legs and rolled his thumb over your clit, which didn’t help. you cried out, tensing. “jake, stop! it’s sensitive.”

“that’s the point, dummy,” jake replied, stimulating your clit with his hand while simultaneously pumping himself into you from behind.

your core tightened, heat wafting over you as your chest heaved wildly. “what are you doing?” you stammered.

jake smiled, watching in the mirror how your face tensed with a blend of confusion and ecstasy that you couldn’t rein. “you really think i’m an asshole, huh? i’m trying to make you come. relax and let me.”

you shook your head. you didn’t want to come, not for him, and most definitely not on his cock for him to feel every unintentional shudder of your pussy as it gushed and pulsed with hot, sweet release; that would be embarrassing.

that made jake chuckle. “no? you don’t wanna come for me, baby?” he asked, furrowing his brows playfully as he tilted your face back up to the mirror with a push of your jaw. “come on, let go. you keep saying i’m not a good guy, but you shoot me down when i try to be nice.”

you moaned again, against your own reason and better judgment. “please,” you rasped with half a breath.

“please, what?” jake asked, rubbing you with just a pinch more force. “do you even know?”

god, you hated him; you absolutely despised him. but damn, if it didn’t feel good to have someone touch you after you’d spent so long avoiding sex like it was something to be ashamed of.

and this? this was definitely something you were ashamed of.

and yet the most shameful moment, perhaps, was when you finally couldn’t resist the pleasure of his big, long fingers twirling around your sensitive nub and his brutal hips smacking into you with a vengeance, clamping around him as you orgasmed with a loud cry and the heat shot through every corner of your body.

“shit,” jake hissed, the feel of you finishing around him draining the cum from his balls for a second time.

your jaw slacked, overwhelmed by how you felt completely and utterly stuffed, ropes of his cum filling you to the hilt. jake thrusted into you a little more, sending a flare through your back and shoulders, until he stilled for good. you could hear him panting behind you.

after a moment or two, jake pulled out. hand between your thighs, he gathered some of his stringy release on his finger and brought it up to your lips. “open up. don’t make me say it again.”

you opened your mouth wide enough for him to insert two of his cum-coated fingers inside. then, you sucked at them and swallowed it down, knowing those would be the next words to leave his mouth.

jake raised a brow, pleasantly surprised. he took his time to withdraw his fingers, enjoying the sensation of you licking them clean. “see, i knew you loved eating my cum.”

your face burned, but you didn’t have the energy to deny it. not after that. it felt like there was a gaping hole in your chest, a void that would never be filled.

“you’re learning,” jake commented, humming in satisfaction. “good girl. you know, maybe one day we can get along. don’t you think?”

“yeah,” you murmured weakly. at this point, you would just go along with whatever he said. and maybe that was why he figured you could experience some peace together now.

keeping your dress bunched up, jake grabbed some tissues from his left and started to wipe at you. “let’s get you cleaned up before we leave, cheerleader. don’t want the entire student body to see you like this, right?”

you whipped your head around, eyes widening in surprise. leaving to go where? certainly you weren’t going home with him after tonight.

“did you think i was kidding?” jake asked with a sly smile, slipping your panties backing in place and giving your shoulder a fleeting kiss. “i told you, i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out.”

#jake sim smut #enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #jake smut #enhypen x reader #enha smut #enhypen x you #enhypen hard hours #enha x reader #jake sim x reader #sim jaeyun x reader

5K notes · View notes

neodazed · 3 months ago

Text

enhypen - 🎀 - grinding/dry humping

ot7xfem!reader - grinding and dry humping

warnings: grinding, dry humping (wow the shock), clothed sex, thigh/knee-riding, hand-riding, nose-humping, abs too, mentions of doing it on objects, some might be executed slightly painful, not all humps are dry tho, lmk if i missed smth!

biggest kisses and hugs to every oral-fixation enjoyer out there 💋 can’t believe it got 600 notes ! also, i wanted to say that i’ll gladly take requests, but i’m a person who takes their time and def puts their brain-bugs first. have fun reading ! masterlist

HEESEUNG

The first time Heeseung kisses you out of pure impatience, so rough his nose quite literally smashes onto yours, you know that’s something you will ride one day.

Obviously, you weren’t wrong.

But it’s not like you could just ask him bluntly — hey, you’re nose is so perfect, can I ride it? You didn’t have that much of a filthy mouth on you, no. You needed an ideal situation, which where you both were lost and loose enough to flew towards that direction.

So, back in the present, you’re already sitting on his face. The only fabric still “covering” you is the partially unclapped white bra, that Heeseung was too impatient to discard entirely, resulting in a annoyed huff, and just leaving it hanging off your tits, before grabbing your thighs in a harsh grip, and pulling you over his face.

Familiar it was, how your pussy enveloped mostly his chin and lips, a thing you’ve done countless times since you got together. The usual, practiced moves of his tongue licking your walls till the deepest parts he could possibly reach. His mouth closing around your clit, sucking so hard to the point you cried from both pleasure and faint pain. Sometimes, he liked to act like a jerk, and force you to stay in place, so that the joy you recieved was completely controlled and minimized by him, but truly, deep down, he was drunk. So high from how you taste, smell, and feel, all he wanted was to lay there and let you bounce on his face until he suffocates.

Totally normal about it.

Again, you’ve taken your well-deserved place. Your grip on his hair is tight and stable, as you lift your hips up and down in a repeating motion, sliding his warm muscle in and out of your pulsing hole. He groans into you, sending all the right vibrations, finger trying to rub your hard nub. When you push a little harder, paying a little less attention to wether he gets to breathe or not, you slide up enough that your clit brushes against the tip of his nose, and it’s so good you forgot everything you’ve thought out before. Your movements become intentional and directed, and his hand drops to his side by the newfound force. He waits a little, before grabbing your hips to pull away, his expression amused.

He’s smirking.

“If you like my nose so much, why don’t just sit on it all together?”

Your face reddens, realizing how obvious you have been. Is there a point of denying now though? Absolutely none. He gives a more soft, confirming nod, actually encouraging. You sit back, now in a position that allows his nose to go in between your puffy lips.

You don’t let yourself down entirely, but he doesn’t take your nice values happily, he grunts and pushes you down. Whimpers leave your mouth as you grind your clit without hesitation this time, a mantra of his name, gratitude to every god in the sky that let you have this moment. Crying out is an understatement to the noise you let out when the tip of his nose somehow manage to push past your ring. The bump rubs your insides in an unusal, yet mouth watering way. It’s Heeseung.

He’s the one slobbering over this, feeling like he’s on the edge of fucking heaven, and you’re about to send him through the gate by choking him into afterlife with your cunt.

Turns around it’s both of yours thing, afterall.

JAY

It was supposed to be a simple makeout session after dropping you off at home.

But then you started to stroke the back of his head with your cute little nails, opening your mouth wider, arching into his touch more, and before you could blink, you were in his lap.

However, he still holds back as much as he can, knowing you have to part ways eventually. He strokes your waist in a gentle manner, not pushing or pressing at all.

The problem is?

Those fucking jeans he decided to put on today. For anyone else, it looks and is like a simple pair of black denim jeans, and you are glad for that, honestly. Because thank god no one expect you stared at Jay enough to obsess over how the baggy pants got so tight in the place that mattered the most in this moment. You don’t even want to deny how you’ve been ogling at the bulge in his lap.

And that was him soft.

You must have a sixth sense, that made you wear a skirt today. As you lean onto his body, and lick into his warm mouth, it’s incredibly easy to just put your covered wetness on said bulge. He groans into the kiss, pulling back for a minute.

“We don’t have time to have sex now…” Is what he whispers, the words sounding almost painful coming from him, and you chuckle, continuing the kiss.

“We don’t have to” The short sentence is made in bits, taking a second for a sloppy kiss in between every word. He’s a tiny bit skeptical, but now so turned on he doesn’t protest.

He’s big enough to press against you in the right angle even through the tight material. It feels so big, so hot, so hard it makes a point itch somewhere deep inside of you. Your panties made of lace, and the fabric you try to so needily grind on make such an uncomfortable mix you’re not even sure how does it still feels so good.

It’s similar to a few things you did in the past, when you were single and inexperienced. Like humping a pillow, spraying cold water onto your clit on the hardest pressure, or grinding yourself back and forth on the arm of your chair.

Expect, now you’re not just dumbly chasing pleasure. It’s with Jay, who is kissing you so hard it bruises your bottom lip. With Jay, who guides you back and forth on his dick with his grip on your hips. With Jay, who pulls your soaked panties aside, and spits on your cunt you’ve rubbed raw by this point to make the slide easier, not caring if it also lands on his clothes. You already dirtied him with your slick, anyways.

It’s with Jay, who lets you explore and have your fun for a while, before getting frustrated and unbuckling his belt. The zipper he tries to pull down fastly grazes your lips, and you hiss, but immediatelly forget about it when his dick gets shoved into you the next second.

JAKE

It’s late in the evening.

The light breeze flowing in through the slightly opened window is a small sort of relief to your body, heated from the oppressive summer air and from the sight of your shirtless boyfriend laying next to you.

You are both tired - it’s obvious. Hazy eyes, short yawns, giggling about literally anything that happens in the late night glow, while you are wrapped up in each others presence.

But you can’t just go to sleep. Not like this, not when he is kissing so softly inside of the part connecting your neck and shoulders. When he reaches down to see if you’re also aroused, and it’s not just him growing needy despite the tiredness glooming over both of you.

He finds you wet, obviously. He smiles against your lips, proud of himself, and probably because he is a little out of it. Helps you kneel up just enough so that he can flatten his palm perfectly to cup your heat. He is way too spent to do his usual teasing, and the same goes for you. You make a silent agreement to just take.

His hand and forearm is strong, they don’t even budge as you begin to slowly rock yourself back and forth. You always loved them, to be honest. They’re big enough to envelope your smaller ones, his fingers are long and veiny, and it all screams perfection. He adds just the slightest pressure with one of his long digits to your clit, a motivation to go faster.

To hump the fuck out of it, basically.

But it wouldn’t be Jake if he wasn’t a whiny mess himself - he doesn’t ask for your palm, he just grabs it, and wraps it around his cock. He fucks your fist in a messy pace, no rhythm whatsover, sometimes yanking your arm so hard your own pace falters. Or the opposite, and he gets you in a position where the knuckles of his fingers press on your covered slit in a way that sends you to the edge right away.

‘S-so good, baby. Gonna come all over my hand? Gonna fuck yourself on it?’

Both of you do exactly that.

SUNGHOON

Black tank top+gray sweats+Sunghoon after his gym session?

Either have him now, or die, you think.

He’s sitting in front of you, with a towel loosely hanging around his neck.

The way his thigh strains beneath the thin fabric makes your mouth water, quite literally. All you can think about is having that taut muscle pressed between your legs, rubbing against your pussy through the fabric until it starts to ache — from both the frustration and the roughness of the material.

Then your gaze travels up to his torso, watching as the black tank top clings to his slightly sweaty muscles, outlining everything perfectly for your hungry eyes. You have to bite the inside of your cheek just to stop a moan from slipping out at the sight alone.

Of course, Sunghoon isn’t stupid — and by now, he knows you well enough to read your mind. Not that your lust-drunk expression left much to the imagination anyway. He smiles at your reaction, before pulling you into his lap.

‘Sit, pretty’ He pats his wide spread thighs for you.

He starts kissing you — hot, demanding. In contrast, his fingers are gentle as they caress your thigh, moving slowly up and down, occasionally slipping just beneath the edge of your shorts. You sigh under his touch, and your own hand sets off on a little adventure — though it’s a short one, since it only gets as far as his cock. He smiles into the kiss, grabs your wrist, and pulls your hand away. A frustrated little growl escapes your lips, making him chuckle softly.

‘What happened? The way you were staring, I thought you were planning to cum on my thigh.”

He says with a smug grin, pushing you back slightly in his lap.

You lift your hips for just a moment, letting him slide your shorts and panties down. With the layers gone, the hardness of his thigh sends even more pleasure surging through you, pressing perfectly against your pulsing wetness.

‘Damn. You’d really ride anything I give you. Are you that desperate for me, Love?’ You don’t have the energy to huff at his words, because truly, you really are that desperate.

You must be quite the shameless sight, reaching down with one hand to part your outer lips just enough to grind your clit directly against him. You can’t say it isn’t a little embarrassing — but the arousal far outweighs the discomfort. You’re wet, of course you are, and every forward motion makes everything even slicker.

Sunghoon watches your little performance with amused, mischievous eyes. He’s already rock hard beneath his sweatpants, but watching you struggle, rubbing your swollen clit against his thigh like that, was just too entertaining to stop you.

‘Mhm, that’s it, baby. Make that dirty cunt cum over my pants.’

And you do.

SUNOO

Sunoo always has nerve-wracking punishments that make you question, time and time again, why you decide to piss him off in the first place.

Of course, not enough to stop you from doing it anyway.

Yet you haven’t even done a single thing wrong — you simply showed your own little cute, polite self when you returned the male waiter’s courteous smile at the restaurant.

Apparently, you can’t smile out of pure politeness anymore — you note out loud, after Sunoo makes you strip naked in front him. Your snarky comment only makes him roll his eyes. Of course even now, you can’t fucking shut up. Your smile instantly fades when he suddenly reaches between your legs, to press his palm onto your flesh. He scoffs at your reaction.

‘I’m scolding your nasty behaviour, and you’re fucking getting off on it?’ You stumble on your feet, and quickly take a hold of his shoulder as you shrug as an answer to his question. It wasn’t meant to be answered. Sunoo pulls back, leaning against the armchair he is sitting in. He is still fully dressed, in black denim pants, and now half-way unbuttoned white shirt. His flashed collarbone and chest, combined with the angry look on his face is simply delicious to your eyes. He pats his knees for you to sit, so you comply. Your first move is to lean onto his mouth, but he grabs your jaw and stops you.

‘I didn’t say you can kiss me’ You sigh. Alright, typical. Should’ve thought so. Your next go is at his crotch, but when he also yanks you back from there, you are left dumbfounded.

‘You’re really that stupid? You don’t get to have my mouth, dick, or fingers, baby’ Oh, okay. So this is the punishment this time.

‘So…what are we doing then?’ You sigh, biting your lip. You are needy, he literally stripped you down, and you are sitting in his lap. There’s no way he just wants to sit around and make you suffer…Right?

‘I didn’t tie your hands, did I? Get yourself off somehow, but do it without my help’ And his cock, mouth and fingers, as he said. As you think about what should you do, you shift on his legs, trying to get more comfortable, and now, you don’t know if he does on purpose or purely accidental, but his knee also adjusts in the same moment, and slides right under your core. And that’s more than enough to inspire you.

You rest your paws on his thigh, to steady yourself. You pull your hips back a little, so your pussy is just right in front of his knee, then push back. The sensation is immediate, though it’s a mix of strange and good. The fabric of his jeans is rough, obviously not meant to be, well, rubbed on, but it’s not like a flicker (or some more) of pain is not something you love in the first place. With the pace you settled on, the humping movement makes you whine, bumping your clit against the bones of his knee again and again. It’s still not enough though, Sunoo can see it very clearly on your face, hear it dripping through your pathetic little sounds.

There’s no warning before he holds your hips down, and moves his knee up. You whimper rather loudly, naked chest slumping against Sunoo’s, grabbing onto his arms.

‘S-sunoo, that hurts’

‘Hurts? You don’t want me to stop though, do you?’ He smirks, knowing the answer damn well is a desperate ‘no’.

His knee spreads your pussy apart as much as possible, the hardest part continously dragging up your slit and against your clit everytime he pushes up. You let out a hiss. Your lips, your slit, the entrance of your hole, your bundle of nerves…they’re all red and swollen puffy of the harsh material rubbing against you. You are almost crying, when you release over his clothes, your liquid dirtying his expensive jeans.

‘Thought this would be a good punishment, but of course you enjoyed it.’

JUNGWON

Jungwon’s family home had ridiculously thin walls, and it didn’t help that his parents’ bedroom was just two doors down.

Knowing all that, you probably shouldn’t have made out with the poor boy like crazy the first time you stayed over — but what’s done is done.

You pulled away before things could go too far, and now the two of you lie next to each other, breathing heavily.You turn over, as if not seeing his face might somehow calm the desire burning in you — or in him.You feel him shift too, the slow, deliberate way he wraps an arm around your waist and buries his face in the curve of your neck.You let out a relieved sigh, thinking maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to fall asleep like this — in this soft, sweet little moment.

Then his hips move.

At first, you try to tell yourself he’s just shifting to get comfortable — but by the third slow grind, it’s hard to keep up that narrative.

‘Won. What are you doing?’ You tilt your head back slightly to look him in the eyes, whispering. The boy shakes his head while a delicate blush spreads across his cheeks.

‘I c-can’t help it. I need to feel you right now’ He says in a desperate tone, now grinding with intent against your ass.

You want him too, how could you not? You haven’t been able to do much since you got together yet, but the desire and chermisty is definietly there. You feel it everytime you meet, everytime you touch, everytime you look at him. Obviously, you’re not about to have sex now. It’s not the place or time to do it, but still…

You can’t say no.

You take a shaky breath. The fingers that were resting on his hand now travel further, stroking his arm that is wrapped around your middle. Not with the most confidence, though just as eager as him, you push back. Feeling his bulge press against your backside and thighs is not that new. But the impatient, hurried pace of it pressing onto you is, and you think it must be good for him.

Good, but is it enough?

You need more. You need his growing member on a place that is pulsing for him, unsure yet open at the same time.

The only thing you’re wearing are boxers and panties, so when you suddenly decide to turn on your other side, he’s not prepared to back up even a little bit, and his cock presses forward, but now onto your pussy, covered by the very thin layer of underwear. Your hand slaps on his mouth almost right way, to stifle the loud noise you know he’s about to make.

You keep one of your hands there, even when Jungwon rolls on top of you, to rub his leaking hardness harshly. He’s obviously frustrated, the layer of his briefs being the reason, since you have gotten so wet your panties almost make no difference in the process. He grunts, and frees his dick, reassuring you when he sees the doubtful look on your face.

‘I won’t do anything else. Just want to feel you better’

It’s messy. Full of pre-cum, slick, and slight sweat, a mix of fluids making the slide so hard. If he was inside, he would he in heaven now. He’s not though, and the slippery mess you have created together only makes his annoyence grow, his grip on you tighter, and the press of his hips unhuman, both in pace and strength.

If there was unresolved sexual tension between the two of you before, now there’s a whole bomb ticking for more.

RIKI

‘I had something in mind’ Is what you whisper into Riki’s mouth when you pull away to breath for a second.

At first, his brain doesn’t really register that you said something, and instead of an answer, he kisses you again. Making out with Riki is quite similar to a fever dream, you think. Relatively slow, but the intensity doesn’t lay in the pace he sets. It’s a nerve-wrecking build up of plump lips, firm hands and wetness.

Both of you like it sloppy.

You try to gently push him away by his chest, and he listens this time.

‘Yeah? What is it?’ He did listen at first too, he was just too into it.

You are not that embarassed to say it, of course. You and him make a couple who are both got a rather high sex drive, and Riki was certainly never afraid to voice his thoughts on new things you could try. You, on the other hand, might be a bit more shy to just blurt them out. You’re not ashamed of wanting it, but your boyfriend is so good at keeping that damn eyecontact, and that cocky smirk on his lips still, that you can’t help but get flustered at times like this.

‘It might be a little weird’

You tuck your hair behind your ears. The muscles of his face are already twitching, but he suprisingly manages to stay serious.

‘Weird to me? Or to you?’ His fingers stroke from your hips to the underside of your chest repeatedly, making it kinda hard to think.

‘To you. I think’ His expression turns amused, but he doesn’t comment anything else, looking forward to hear it finally.

‘I though I could like…you know. Your abs’ You don’t say the word ‘ride’. You don’t really want to, and you already have been grinding on his clothed cock, so the idea might give itself, hopefully.

‘You gotta be more specific than that, baby.’

Asshole.

‘Like…grind on it.”

He stills for a moment, shocked that you actually said that out loud. Then he nods, and peels his shirt of fin a swift motion. The perfect pattern of his abs are revealed to your eyes, your mouth runs dry at the sight. His broad shoulders, biceps, veiny forearms and hands…the well built six pack on his stomach is a perfect match to complete the beautiful man that he is.

He lays on his back on the couch, his upper body flexing in the movement. Since there was no question and he seemed to be on board, you decide not to give him any more chance to tease you, so without another word, you quickly shimmy your undies down, and straddle him.

Biggest beige flag?

‘When his abs are so well defined you can cum by rubbing your cunt on it’.

Yes, that’s pretty random yet you love it.

You have to part your outer lips to feel him, and he is quite mesmerized by the view he is blessed with.

‘Such a pretty pussy for me, hm?’

Now you are glad he is talking, his voice sends waves of pleasure through your body, and it all comes out in the form of your wetness gathering between your legs. You try your best to have a stable grip, but you keep on slipping on his abdomen. He huffs, grabbing your hips and fixing you. He starts to guide you, pressing you down so hard the only thing you can do is moan.

‘It’s a bit funny, no? You’re so needy for me. You want to ride everything I have’ He lets out a low chuckle. Your face turns red.

“And you let me do it. That makes you just as needy, no?’

He smiles, and drags you down for a kiss.

‘Not my fault I have such a freaky girl on me.’

bae @ziiao

3K notes · View notes

jaysbaefie · 3 months ago

Text

bullshit | sjy

synopsis: in which months of mocking jake online comes back to bite you, and he makes sure you regret every single word—on your knees.

genre: idol au

pairing: idol!jake x blogger!reader

warnings: dubcon? bratty!reader, petty!jake, mean!jake, big dick!jake, kidnapping (sort of kind of??), oral (m.rec), cum swallowing, reader grinds down on jake’s shoe, mention of daddy kink (but it’s not used), forced submission, manhandling, titty sucking, marking, begging, degrading. self degradation, rough and unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, overstimulation, light spanking slapping and chocking, creampie, spitting, recording for blackmail purposes. i think that’s it….

wc: 15.1k

a/n: this took a lot more time that i initially thought it would … but it’s here now! this draft has been sitting in my archives for years like literal years. back when i used to write on wattpad for bts i had this plot written for tae but scrapped it because i lacked creativity to make it happen. but here we r ! also side note this is not edited to the best of its abilities so if u c a mistake… im sorry :D hope you enjoy, notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy :)

✎﹏﹏

the dorm door slammed open, the sound of sneakers dragging across the floor echoing behind it. the 7 exhausted boys spilled into the living room, all drained and sweaty from the insane dance practice that had run two hours longer than scheduled. jake collapsed face-first onto the couch, groaning into a throw pillow as he stretches his limbs before he feels a cramp in his leg.

"i think my spine is permanently bent," he mumbled, not moving an inch.

sunghoon flopped onto the floor, using his hoodie as a pillow. "i think i disassociated during 'bite me.'"

"you always disassociate during 'bite me,'" heeseung shot back, tossing a towel at him making sunghoon scowl.

jay, meanwhile, had his phone out, thumb lazily scrolling through twitter as he half-listened to the chaos around him. he was about to put his phone down when a thread caught his eye.

"kpop idols who probably have the smallest dick (a very unserious thread)"

"...oh?" jay blinked, intrigued for all the wrong reasons. a grin formed on his lips as he clicked, the list started off wild.

1. jaehyun nct - idc what y'all say. he screams below average. 2. jeno nct - this is a hater post. cry about it. 3. jake from enhypen - golden retriever energy but gives micro vibes. sorry not sorry.

jay let out a loud, sudden laugh at the description given for jake—catching everyone's attention.

"yo, jake," he wheezed, turning the screen toward him. "look what someone said about you."

jake rolled over lazily, half hazy, "what?"

jay shoved the phone in front of his face. jake read the tweet once, then again. then a third time. his brows furrowed deeper with each pass, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was reading.

"...are you serious right now?"

he sat up, yanking the phone from jay's hand to read it himself. his eyes scanned the username, the post and then the likes. 10k likes for a bullshit post, jake scoffed in disbelief. he scrolled down to read the replies which were full of people either agreeing or arguing like their lives depended on it.

"no because she's right and she should say it louder" one of the comments read, jake furrowed his eyebrows before scowling.

"i love him but... yeah."

"nah he gives big dick energy actually"

"this is so mean LMFAOOO"

jake's mouth opened in shock. "why am i even on this list? what did i do to deserve this? how does someone look at me and go, 'yeah, micro dick.' what the hell?"

jay couldn't stop laughing. "it's so random, too. like. where did they get the data? did they run a poll?"

"this isn't funny!" jake snapped, slapping jay's shoulder with the back of his hand. "i'm being slandered in front of thousands of people. tens of thousands!"

sunoo peeked over jay's shoulder. "ooh. and someone made a follow-up post. wait—found their tumblr. they said he looks like he apologizes after missionary.'" sunoo cackles, "i can totally see that."

jake nearly choked on air, "what?!"

he snatched sunoo's phone this time, heart pounding as he scrolls violently across your twitter page. he followed the breadcrumb trail from twitter to a tumblr blog: @s0ftbrat666.

the header was a blurry photo of a cunty hello kitty, and the bio just said: "unserious about everything but dick size."

"who the hell is this? why do they hate me so bad?"

niki, who had been quietly sipping water from the kitchen, muttered, "maybe they're a fan of yours. like, weirdly obsessed. reverse psychology or something."

"no. this is personal. this feels targeted," jake muttered, already downloading and opening the tumblr app on his phone. "i'm not letting this slide."

he made a new account. he picked the most ironic, absurd username he could think of: @goldenjake420.

because that screams, 'i'm the real jake sim!!'

he messaged you immediately, his hands shaking in rage as he smashes his fingers into the screen.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

"this is so stupid," he muttered, tossing his phone beside him.

jay raised a brow. "you really just dm'd a twitter troll on tumblr?"

"yes. because the truth matters, jay. i do not have a micro dick!" he exclaims, clearly frustrated from his group mates lack of empathy. he looks around the room in hopes of his members reassurance, only to receive looks of disturbance.

"cmon guys, you know i don't have a micro dick.." he trails off when he sees sunoo grimace at his words.

heeseung smirked from the other side of the couch suddenly sitting up right, ignoring his aching body. "you should send a pic to prove it."

jay cackles before agreeing, "yeah, downwards angles always make that shit look like a tower."

"SHUT UP!" jake shouted, face red in a mixture of embarrassment and anger.

the room erupted in laughter as jake sat there fuming, arms crossed, waiting for a response. he had no idea the person he messaged was already rolling their eyes and preparing to block him.

and this was only the beginning.

you were no stranger to the occasional deranged and delusional fan losing their mind over a post. it was social media, not a diplomatic summit. if you said someone's fave had bad fashion sense or gave off weak dick energy, it was bound to stir drama—but you thrived in it.

what you didn't expect, though, was to get a dm from an account called @goldenjake420 claiming to be jake himself. not just a fan defending him. not someone crying in your inbox about how you were "too mean."

no. this person had committed to the bit.

@goldenjake420: hey just saw your post about me having a micro dick on twitter. not sure why you said that but i can assure you that it's not true kinda rude ngl maybe take it down?

you blinked at the message, snorted, and sat back in your chair.

"okay..." you muttered under your breath. "we've reached new levels of delusion."

you clicked the profile. no posts. followed no one. default layout. pfp of a blurry golden retriever. and the username?

goldenjake420.

"oh my god," you wheezed. this was peak fandom brainrot.

you stared at the message for a minute, thumbs hovering over your keyboard before you decided, you know what? fine. you wanna play jake sim? let's play.

you typed:

@s0ftbrat666: omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry... i didn't know you had a tumblr account i feel so bad now omg i'll take it down right away thank you for being so mature and respectful about it... ugh i feel terrible lol

you hit send. then burst out laughing, eyes watering as you cackle alone in your room.

and five minutes later, you posted a new post on your blog.

—— post by @s0ftbrat666

just got a dm from someone PRETENDING to be jake sim because they were mad i said he has a micro dick LMAOOO. like babes be serious... jake sim is not on tumblr dot com messaging me with a blurry pic of a golden retriever and the username @/goldenjake420. but since he's here reading my posts, hey jake! if u're mad now wait til u see what i post next

anyway updated my list: "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version" jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes and gifs as evidence. enjoy :] ——

you tagged it: #jake sim #enhypen #pls don't take this seriously #except jake if ur reading this then yeah take it seriously

you sat back and refreshed the notes every few seconds. it was already blowing up. likes, reblogs, someone screaming in the tags: "NOT THE FOOTNOTES."

you were thriving, satisfaction filling you as the comments seemed to hype you up.

unbeknownst to you, somewhere in a dorm across the city, jake was screaming into a pillow.

jake was laying on his stomach, face shoved into a couch cushion, aggressively refreshing your tumblr page like a man on a mission. the first message he sent you hadn't gone exactly how he expected. he thought maybe—maybe—you'd feel a little guilty, take the post down, maybe even apologize. instead, he was met with:

"omg jake??? THE jake sim??? i am so sorry..."

at first, he blinked. then smiled. you were going to apologize and take it down..great!

okay, he thought, that was easier than expected.

but then he saw the post you had published just a few minute later.

—— "kpop idols who give off submissive missionary micro dick energy: extended version." jake is now first on the list. i've added footnotes. and gifs. enjoy :] ——

"NO I AM NOT," he yelled into the pillow, voice muffled but full of sheer disbelief.

he rolled over and shot upright, shoving his phone in jay's face. "do you SEE this? i was already called micro dick jake, but now i'm a submissive pillow princess? where is she even getting this from?"

jay looked over the post with a calm expression and said, "well... you did say 'ngl' in a tumblr dm. that's kinda submissive."

"jay."

"i'm just saying."

jake's blood pressure was actively rising. he was pacing the living room now, phone clenched in his fist. "this isn't a joke anymore. she's making footnotes. gifs, bro. there's like a whole academic paper on my dick energy. and worst of all, PEOPLE ARE AGREEING."

sunoo peeked around the corner. "maybe just let it go? like... it's tumblr. no one's gonna remember next week."

"it's twitter too! no. no, she wanted to make it personal. it's personal now."

he went back to tumblr, typing furiously in your dm's.

@goldenjake420: okay first of all?? i was acc being really nice u said some really rude stuff and i still tried to talk to u calmly but now ur doubling down with footnotes?? idk y ur so convinced i'm a submissive pillow princess but ur wrong like so wrong scientifically inaccurate levels of wrong

he hit send. then stared at the screen.

nothing. no response. refresh. refresh.

"error: message could not be delivered."

"...what?" jake frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he desperately tried sending his messages again.

he clicked your profile.

"you've been blocked by this user."

the silence that followed was deafening.

"she blocked me," he whispered, staring at his phone like it had personally betrayed him. "she actually blocked me."

jay cackled from across the room. "maybe now you'll stop fighting the tumblr girl who thinks you're a bottom."

"i'm not a bottom!" jake snapped, defensive. "and i'm definitely not a pillow princess!"

jay peers over jake's shoulder, his face pulls into a grimace as he reads jake's messages. "maybe it's a good thing that those didn't deliver... you're proving her point." jake rolls his eyes in response, not wanting to deal with his friend.

he opened twitter, then paused. was he really about to tweet about this?

he closed the app.

instead, he opened his notes app and started typing:

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick."

this wasn't over.

if he had to write a dissertation, he would. he was reclaiming his name. one footnote at a time.

you were in bed, face smushed into your pillow, scrolling aimlessly when the tag notification came in. you were about to ignore it—probably another reblog of your cursed "submissive missionary micro dick energy" thread—but the caption caught your eye:

@s0ftbrat666 you need to see this LMAOOO he made a THREAD. a whole thread.

confused but curious, you tapped the post.

and there it was.

a full thread. by a tumblr user named @truthaboutjake, which already gave deranged energy, but it got better.

"debunking tumblr slander: why i, jake sim, am not submissive nor do i have a micro dick (a thread)."

you nearly dropped your phone, a giggle leaving you as you excitedly click on the thread.

the first slide was formatted like a presentation. bolded title, bullet points, and an unnecessary amount of spacing like someone had spent way too long formatting it.

—— slide 1: addressing the accusations • the tumblr user @s0ftbrat666 has made multiple posts claiming i am submissive • she has also accused me of having a micro dick • both of these are false, offensive, and based on no real evidence ——

no real evidence, he said. like you were in court.

"what in the deranged.." you muttered to yourself, re-reading the text a second time to make sure you were hallucinating.

you snorted, swiping to the next.

—— slide 2: rebuttal • i've been told i give off dominant energy • no one who owns a denim jacket collection that big can be submissive • as for the size... let's just say i've never received complaints ——

you had to pause there, hand over your mouth, wheezing. "denim jackets radiate peg me," you cackle to yourself.

this wasn't a thread written by a deranged fan. no, this was someone personally offended on a soul level. and the way it was written? the tone? the wording?

it was giving him. it was jake.

no one else would be this pressed.

you laughed so hard you had to sit up.

this man had been so insulted by your dumb, unserious thirst post that he created a whole alternate account, wrote a google-doc-tier thread, and was now trying to clear his name in the notes app format. you were obsessed.

you hit reblog.

—— @s0ftbrat666: i have never in my life witnessed a man fight for his dom rights this hard the denim jacket argument almost had me convinced ngl

jake sim if this is actually you: 1. calm down 2. you're literally proving my point 3. post the evidence since you're so confident ——

the comments came flooding in:

"NOT HIM MAKING A PRESENTATION" "'never received complaints' is CRAZY" "he could've just logged off but now he's in too deep" "@truthaboutjake is shaking"

you weren't done though. oh no.

you clicked the original post again and dm'd @truthaboutjake directly.

@s0ftbrat666: wow a thread? you really sat down and made a powerpoint about your dick this is the best thing that's happened to me all week but you still haven't proven anything so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era i'll wait <33

you hit send with a shit-eating grin.

this was your roman empire now. you were going to be thinking about this thread forever.

jake stared at your message like it physically slapped him.

"so until i see hard (and i mean HARD) evidence you're staying in your submissive micro dick era"

his jaw dropped.

"e-evidence?!" he sputtered aloud, standing up in the middle of the dorm living room like he'd just been accused of murder.

jay, sitting across the room with earbuds in, pulled one out and glanced up. "what now?"

"she wants evidence."

jay blinked. "like...?"

jake gestured wildly at his phone. "like evidence evidence!"

jay raised both brows before grinning "...so what i said about the downward angle, i'm telling you jake that shit makes it look h—"

"NO!" jake practically yelled. "i'm not sending a picture of my dick to some random troll on tumblr!"

he fumed. typed. deleted. typed again. then, finally, sent:

@truthaboutjake: okay. listen. i'm not sending you a dick pic. i don't care how much you want "evidence" that's weird. this whole thing is weird. i'm literally just trying to correct a false narrative about myself

you saw the message and immediately rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw your brain. you were curled up on your couch, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, typing with vicious speed.

@s0ftbrat666: omg. are you serious right now?? NO ONE asked for actual dick pics. what the hell is wrong with you. you're literally so deep in this delusion you really think you're jake sim like?? be serious for once you are a grown man on tumblr dot com pretending to be an idol and defending your imaginary dick size this is next level behavior. you need to touch grass and maybe talk to a therapist jake sim would never you are EMBARRASSING yourself rn.

you hit send and sighed, rubbing your temples. it was funny at first but the more you interacted with this person the more brain cells you lost, it shocked you that people would go to such lengths to defend their favs.

this was beyond fandom drama now. this was a case study. and the worst part? you were kind of impressed with how committed he was to the bit. concerned of course, but impressed too.

like... he was spiraling. but passionately.

still. you weren't going to let up. because whoever this man was, he needed to be humbled.

you opened a new post draft and typed:

—— @s0ftbrat666: update: he dm'd me again and accused me of demanding dick pics because i said "evidence"

i rest my case. this is not jake sim. this is some 32-year-old man who unironically uses reddit and thinks being called "submissive" is a slur

log off, drink some water, and go outside before you get a nosebleed from rage

#jake sim #not the real one obviously #this is tumblr not onlyfans relax ——

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to move on.

he really did.

after the dick thread. after being labeled a submissive missionary pillow princess. after the fake fan accusations and being accused of roleplaying as himself—he made the conscious choice to stop checking your blog. he muted your username. closed tumblr for a solid 24 hours. he even turned off his notifs.

he was healing. growing. rebuilding his sanity.

until a member sent him a screenshot.

it was sunghoon.

of course it was sunghoon.

sunghoon: yo y tf she got sm time on her hands icl tho she funny asf

attached was a photo of your newest tumblr post.

jake opened it, eyes squinting. then he saw it.

—— @s0ftbrat666: watched enhypen's most recent stage and i just wanna know WHO chose those pants for jake like bffr. i can see his entire situation

the dick print? front and center. and it's not giving what he thinks it's giving

it's giving: he begged the stylist to let him wear those pants so he could prove me wrong and i'm here to tell you... babe... don't ever do that again.

i'm LAUGHING.

#enhypen #jake sim #pls don't wear tight pants if ur not ready for the scrutiny king #it's not looking good ——

jake froze.

his phone was literally vibrating with how hard he was gripping it.

"she's watching performances now?" he whispered to himself, horrified.

jay looked up from across the room, warily. "...oh god. again?"

"she's analyzing my crotch, jay. she made a post about my dick print."

jay blinked. "that's... new."

"and she said it's 'not giving'!" jake practically screamed, spinning his phone around to show him. "not giving what?! not giving big dick energy?!?!"

jay read it silently, lips twitching. "...it does kind of sound like she thinks you're trying to prove her wrong. which, to be fair, you kinda are." he pauses for a second, "but i thought she deemed you as a deranged fan, does she think that you're actually texting her?"

jake shrugs, "who knows what she's thinking, clearly way to much of this is the shit she posts. also i wasn't even thinking about her when i wore those pants!"

"you literally made a thread defending your dick size last week."

"NOT THE POINT."

jake felt like he was going to combust. it was like every time he clawed his way back to peace, you dropped another post from hell and dragged him back into the pit.

and this time?

this time you targeted his outfit. his styling choices. his crotch visibility. he couldn't even enjoy the stage anymore without wondering if you were out there in a hoodie, behind a screen, zooming in on freeze frames of his pants.

"this is psychological warfare," jake muttered.

sunghoon looked up from his phone, his face annoyed. he was tired of hearing about this, "just block her again."

jake clenched his jaw. "she'll post about it. she'll brag."

he scrolled back up, reading the caption again. and again. his fingers hovered over your username.

he didn't message you. not this time.

instead, he posted on his burner account:

—— @truthaboutjake: some people spend their lives spreading negativity online because they have nothing else going for them. if you spend your free time zooming in on people's bodies just to make fun of them, seek help.

also, the pants looked fire. ——

he hit post. and then, two minutes later he opened the group chat.

jayke: whoever styled me last week. never again. we're going back to loose pants. i'm not doing this with tumblr anymore

✎﹏﹏

jake tried to stay composed. he tried.

but every time he opened tumblr, there you were—lurking in his psyche like a demon with wi-fi.

at first it had been a few jabs, sprinkled here and there between your usual posts about other idols. someone's hair, another's dance move, one guy you kept thirsting over for his "evil smirk" and "long fingers." whatever. jake didn't care.

until suddenly—your entire blog became about him.

not in a cute, stan-like way.

no.

it was relentless.

"jake sim update: still looks like a man who apologizes during sex."

"new era, same micro dick energy."

"his pants looked like they were holding in a lie."

"i know he fumbles the aux every time. just look at him."

your followers ate it up. reblog after reblog. tags like "#he's just so bashable" and "#jake sim slander is self-care" filled the notes.

there were polls. there were graphics.

you made a tier list of idols based on who looked like they cried after sex, and jake was placed right at the top with the caption: "he looks like he'd say 'was that okay?' while tucking his soft dick back in his briefs."

jake was spiraling.

the worst part? you didn't even seem like a hater. you didn't hate him.

you just... targeted him like it was your job. your content was crafted with care. effort. borderline affection.

jay leaned over one afternoon while jake doomscrolled through another one of your polls—this one titled "which idol do you think would last the shortest in bed (no offense)", where jake was winning by 68%.

"you know," jay mused, "i think she actually likes you."

jake looked up, eyes wide with horror as he looks at jay disgusted. "what?"

jay shrugged. "she's obsessed. it's giving weirdly specific attention. enemies-to-lovers coded."

"jay. she made a gifset of my crotch."

"exactly."

jake nearly threw his phone across the room.

it wasn't just slander anymore—it was becoming personal. and the most infuriating part?

you were so sure. so smugly sure.

every post was laced with casual cruelty and the sharp confidence of someone who truly believed they knew him. his vibes. his music taste. his dick size. like you'd studied him and filed a damn report.

and the urge to prove you wrong? it was eating at him.

he'd see one of your posts and get this itch. this slow, simmering burn in his gut. like he had something to prove now. like he wanted to walk up to you and say—

"say that shit again. to my face."

he'd fantasized about it more than once.

cornering you at a fansign, maybe. or catching you backstage if he ever figured out who you were. you with that smug little expression, your arms crossed like you knew everything. and him, leaning in, low and sharp, and making damn sure you knew you were wrong about everything—especially that.

he wasn't even mad anymore. not just mad. he was determined.

this wasn't just tumblr slander. this was a challenge.

and jake sim? he didn't lose.

✎﹏﹏

jake laid in bed, phone hovering above his face, lit only by the blue glow of tumblr's godforsaken app. it was well past 2 a.m., and he'd already scrolled through your entire blog—again.

he told himself it was just to see if you'd posted anything new. which, of course, you had,

but really, he was spiraling.

another post. this one read:

—— @softbrat666: something about jake sim just screams whines when it doesn't slide in all the way like he'd pause mid-thrust to ask if you're okay because he came too fast

he'd definitely say 'but you just feel so good...' as an excuse ——

and the worst part?

jake read every single reply. studied them, even. like they held some kind of twisted insight into how you saw him. how you imagined him. you were building this whole persona of him in your mind and then broadcasting it to thousands of followers like it was gospel. and the most messed up part?

you had just enough accuracy to make it sting.

and yet—you remained anonymous.

faceless. untouchable.

he'd tried to find out who you were. he dug through old posts, clicked your tags, searched your url on twitter and insta.

all he found was: • you lived in seoul • you were 21 • you drank too much iced americano • and you had audacity in excess

that was it. no selfies. no personal posts. no full name. you were just a sassy username and a collection of jake sim hate posts.

meanwhile, he was a public figure with his whole government face on blast while you dragged him through the mud constantly.

he hated how much he thought about what you looked like.

were you soft and bratty, like your tone suggested? did you smirk when you wrote those captions? were you the type to twirl your hair and say, "what? it's not that deep," while ruining a man's reputation?

he imagined you walking around seoul, laughing with your friends, ordering overpriced coffee with that smug, evil-little-gremlin energy.

he imagined running into you.

he'd play it cool at first—polite, casual, maybe even a little flirty.

watch you ramble. watch you squirm. and when he caught you slipping—maybe when you made some offhand comment about k-pop or tumblr—he'd hit you with it:

"so how's that blog going? still think i'm a submissive pillow princess with a micro dick?"

he rolled onto his side, fuming into his pillow. you lived in his head rent-free and you didn't even know what he looked like at night when he was losing sleep over your bullshit posts.

it was unfair.

you got to stay invisible while he was out here analyzing his own stage outfits to figure out what clip you were gonna slander next.

he scrolled back to that gif set you made of his recent performance. paused on the close-up. the zoom-in.

the goddamn caption: "not jake sim trying to start a dickprint redemption arc. spoiler: it's not working."

his eye twitched.

"this girl is the devil," he muttered.

and yet... he couldn't stop checking. he needed to know what you'd say next.

✎﹏﹏

you wake up to absolute chaos.

your phone is buzzing. not one or two notifications—hundreds. group chats. twitter and tumblr dms. unknown numbers. missed calls. it's like your phone caught fire overnight.

you blink against the morning light, groggy and confused, heart picking up speed. something's wrong. you can feel it. you squint at the screen, drag down your notifications, and the first notification you see makes your stomach drop.

"girl you're trending rn... what did you DO???"

then another.

"is that actually your name???"

your pulse is pounding before you even open twitter. your fingers shake as you type your own @ into the search bar, and the second you hit enter, your breath catches.

it's you.

your name. your photo. your phone number. everything.

someone—no, a group of people—had clearly gone full fbi. they'd taken all your casual, dumb little posts over the years and pieced them together like a fucked-up puzzle.

and now your full name was in a viral thread titled: "this the girl behind the jake sim micro dick blog?"

with a photo of you at a party two months ago, smile beaming.

people were quote-tweeting it with comments like: "she built like someone who'd have beef with jake sim for no reason." "oh she definitely owns a stan twitter burner too." "her blog is my roman empire i need her in therapy immediately."

your blood turned to ice. you were exposed.

fully.

not just as a shitposter but as the jake sim hater. your inbox was flooded—death threats, confessions, apologies, people asking if it was really you. tumblr dms screaming:

"TAKE THE POSTS DOWN BEFORE HE SEES THEM."

too late.

you scrambled to log into tumblr. your hands fumbled across the keys. it took three tries to get your password right.

the second you were in, you did the only thing you could do.

you hit deactivate.

the blog was gone. years of posts. thousands of notes. all of your followers, your drafts, your hate-poll templates.

deleted.

and then the panic really set in.

your hands were trembling. your ears were ringing. and all you could think about was @truthaboutjake, your mind racing. it was him, you realized that it was him.

"he knows. jake sim fucking knows who i am."

and the worst part?

you had no idea what he'd do with it.

✎﹏﹏

jake found out the same way everyone else did—waking up to a string of texts from jay and sunghoon absolutely losing their shit.

jay: bro. check twitter. sunghoon: she got exposed. jay: HER NAME IS OUT LMAOOO jay: bet she's sweating rn sunghoon: she's kinda cute tho

he blinked hard, still groggy, and tapped open the thread that seemed to be trending.

your face stared back at him.

his heart flipped.

you looked... nothing like what he expected. he'd imagined someone smug. cold. maybe with villain bangs and a cigarette habit.

but no—there you were, face flushed in a group photo, laughing mid-sip of iced americano. you looked normal. it almost hurt to admit, but you were pretty.

you looked real.

and now, you were reachable.

he did what anyone would do: searched your name on instagram. he found your linked facebook.

scrolled. scrolled.

paused.

you had your workplace tagged in an old comment.

"juniper bean café - seoul branch."

he stared at it for a long moment. then, very calmly, he stood up, threw on a hoodie, cap, and mask, and left the dorm.

✎﹏﹏

the café was a little tucked away spot with plants hanging from the ceiling and a chalkboard sign outside that said "kiss me, i'm caffeinated."

jake walked in, glancing around. he spotted you immediately, behind the counter, head down as you punched in an order.

he could tell that you had a rough morning, good. your posture was tense. your hair was pulled back messily. your voice was strained. you looked tired, your eyes that seemed so full of life in your leaked photos had disappeared.

he stepped up to the counter. waited. his eyes trailed down your figure, your frame was draped with a loose fitted sweater and some baggy light wash jeans. you wore a black apron, cinching at your waist—allowing his hungry eyes to capture your curves.

you were trying to look invisible. trying not to stand out. but to him—you were glowing with guilt.

he watched you fumble with a stack of napkins, pretending you didn't feel his eyes burning into you. finally you cleared your throat, still not looking up.

"hi, what can i get you?"

he smiled behind his mask, slow and wicked. he pulled it down just enough to speak—voice dripping low, sharp with mocking sweetness.

"you gonna spit in my drink too?" he asked. "or just keep running your mouth somewhere i can't see?"

you froze.

head snapping up. eyes locking with his. and there it was—that flash of horror, recognition, disbelief. it was him.

you had to admit, he was just as if not more handsome in person. your mouth dried up when you watched his lips curl into a smirk and his eye twitch.

your mouth opened. closed. no sound.

"hi," he said, almost sweetly. "miss me?"

you fumbled a reply—something, anything—but he leaned in, resting his elbows on the counter like he had all the time in the world.

"you disappeared fast. what happened? got leaked and lost all your guts or did you burn through all your micro dick material?"

your coworker looked between you both, utterly confused and in awe that jake was standing in front her. you took a breath. straightened your spine. tried to salvage your dignity.

"this is harassment," you muttered.

"this is karma," jake shot back, his smile dark. he twitched in anger, how dare you call this harassment—what about what you had been doing for the last couple of weeks? "i wanted a latte, by the way. no sugar. unless you're finally ready to be sweet to me."

you nearly dropped the milk jug.

he didn't care. he was so amused. you were the girl who wrote entire essays dragging his dickprint and his imagined bedroom habits? you, flushed and stammering behind a café register?

he wanted to laugh. he wanted to lean in closer. he wanted to ruin you back.

and this? this was just the beginning.

your hands were shaking. milk frother sputtering. heart pounding in your chest like it wanted to escape. and he—jake fucking sim—just stood there.

smiling.

smug.

head tilted slightly like he was thrilled by your discomfort. "you gonna make that latte, or you gonna keep fumbling around and glaring at me?" he drawled, voice low and casual.

you gritted your teeth, turned back to the machine, and fumbled through the motions of making the drink. you could feel his eyes on you the entire time—watching, drinking you in like you were the fucking joke.

you finally slid the drink across the counter, trying not to slam it.

"here. now leave."

he didn't move. just sipped slowly, then licked a bit of foam from his lip like it was the most dramatic thing anyone had ever done in a coffee shop.

and then—he leaned forward. elbow on the counter. voice quiet, words slow and deliberate:

"what time do you get off?"

you blinked, "excuse me?"

"your shift. when does it end?"

"why the fuck would i tell you that?"

his smile widened, all teeth now, sharp and smug. "because there's going to be a black car waiting for you outside." he continues, "when you clock out, you're going to get in. and then you're going to follow instructions."

you stared at him, genuinely floored. "are you insane? what the hell are you talking about?"

he tilted his head, mockingly sympathetic. "i get it. you're scared. probably embarrassed." he grins, "but see, that's the thing about defamation—once it's public, i can take legal action. and you've been very public."

your stomach dropped, "you're bluffing."

he shrugged. "wanna bet your savings account on that?"

you opened your mouth. closed it again. because—fuck. he wasn't bluffing. he didn't have to. you'd posted too much. said too much. and now he had your face, your name, your location.

"you can't just—kidnap me," you said, weaker than intended.

he laughed.

"it's not kidnapping if you get in willingly, sweetheart."

then he slid the latte off the counter, turned, and started to walk toward the door. before he left, he glanced back, over his shoulder.

"9 p.m., right?" he called out. "don't be late. i hate being stood up." he grinned, fuck him.

the bell jingled as he left. the door shut behind him.

and you stood there, in your apron and sneakers and sweaty palms, absolutely rattled. what the fuck did you just get yourself into?

✎﹏﹏

9:03 p.m.

you were pacing behind the café. your shift ended three minutes ago, but you hadn't stepped outside yet. you couldn't. your feet felt like bricks. your stomach twisted with anxiety, hands clenched in the pockets of your jeans.

what the fuck am i doing?

you shouldn't go. you know you shouldn't go. this was literally stranger danger 101, except instead of a stranger it was a kpop idol whose dick size you flamed online for weeks.

your brain was screaming at you. your nerves were a warzone. your inner monologue sounded like one long anxiety spiral:

"you're insane." "this is how people get murdered." "he's rich. he could make you disappear and blame it on anxiety meds." "but also... maybe he just wants to talk?" "or maybe he's gonna sue you in person with his scary legal team and laugh while you cry." "or—worse—what if he takes a picture with you and posts it with some shady ass caption like 'finally found her :)' and now you're really cooked?"

your fists clenched tighter.

this was your own fault. you were the one who made that blog. you were the one who said he looked like a pillow princess. you were the one who photoshopped a pacifier into that one fansite photo and captioned it "baby boy can't handle coochie."

and now?

now he knew your name. your face. your shift schedule.

and there it was, waiting on the curb like a horror movie prop—a sleek black car, windows tinted, headlights glowing like eyes.

you stared at it.

and then, finally, took a deep breath and walked towards it.

the back door opened before you could even touch it. you slid inside, hesitating, clutching your bag to your chest like a shield. you looked around the dimly lit interior. leather seats. no jake.

just a stone-faced driver in a black cap.

"um," you said cautiously. "where are we going?"

no response.

you leaned forward slightly. "hello? i just—can you at least tell me if jake is—"

silence.

he kept driving.

great.

you sat back, heart still racing. the lights of the city blurred past the windows. you couldn't even track the direction—you were too jittery to focus. every turn felt like it took you farther from safety.

and god, the silence was suffocating.

you hated it. you hated him.

jake sim and his smug face and his legal threats and the fact that this whole thing was so humiliating.

how the hell did he turn it around on you? curse those people who leaked you.

you were supposed to have the power. the upper hand. you were the one who had thousands of people laughing at his expense. you were the one whose posts got quoted like bible verses on stan twitter.

and now?

now you were alone, in his car, being driven to god knows where because he told you to.

you should've never fucking posted about his dick. you should've stayed anonymous. kept your mouth shut. deleted the pacifier post when it hit 10k notes.

the car slowed. you peeked out the window. it wasn't some mansion, like you feared. wasn't a dungeon either—at least you think so.

it was a private-looking building—modern, sleek, tucked down a quiet alley with a gated entrance. definitely expensive. definitely secluded.

you were dropped off at the curb. the driver didn't say anything—just nodded toward the front door.

you stepped out slowly, phone gripped tight in your hand, ready to fake an emergency call or scream if necessary.

a man, different from the driver, opened the front door. another silent guy in all black gestured for you to follow.

you hesitated, then followed him down a short hallway, up a narrow flight of stairs, until you reached a door with a single number carved into it: 17.

he knocked once, then opened it.

you stepped in—and stopped.

jake was inside.

he was leaning casually against a wall, dressed in all black—hoodie, chain, jeans, hair tousled, like he hadn't even tried and still looked like a good.

he was scrolling on his phone when you entered, then looked up.

and grinned, "hey." he stops, letting his gaze travel down your trembling form, "glad you could make it, hate blogger."

you wanted to punch him. you wanted to turn around and leave. but most of all—you wanted to know what the hell came next.

and by the look on his face?

he was very ready to show you.

room 17 is quiet. too quiet.

you stand near the door, gripping the strap of your bag like it's your last line of defense. jake hasn't moved from his place against the wall, but his eyes haven't left you for a second. he looks too calm. like this is just some casual meetup and not the most batshit confrontation of your entire life.

"you still haven't told me why i'm here," you say finally, voice tight, trying to sound unbothered even though your throat is dry.

he doesn't answer right away. he just studies you, eyes flicking from your clenched fists to your shifting posture to the tiny, almost-invisible tremble in your knees.

then he lets out a soft little chuckle, the kind that feels mean. smug and quiet and condescending.

"you really don't know?" he asks, stepping away from the wall at last. his strides are slow, deliberate, like he knows you won't run—but that you should.

you take a step back automatically, bumping into the door behind you.

"if this is about suing me," you mutter, chin lifting defensively, "you could've just emailed your legal team. this whole drama king act—" "i'm not suing you." he cuts you off, voice calm but sharp. he walks past you and locks the door with a soft click. your stomach flips.

"then what the hell is this?" he turns back to you, expression unreadable, "this is about correction."

you blink, "what?"

"you posted things that were... inaccurate." he steps closer. you press yourself further into the door. "about me. my body. my performance. my preferences." another step. you swear you stop breathing, "so now i'm giving you a chance to see the truth."

you stare up at him, wide-eyed, "you're joking."

"does it look like i'm joking?" he murmurs.

you're momentarily speechless. your brain is whirring, trying to process what's happening. jake sim—international idol, global heartthrob, the man you've memed within an inch of his digital life—has dragged you to a private room to debunk his dick size?

you should laugh, but you can't.

because he's standing too close. because he's looking at you like prey. because his voice is dipped in amusement but his eyes are furious.

"you're out of your mind," you whisper, eyes wide and your jaw slacked.

he shrugs, "maybe."

his hand lifts, knuckles brushing your chin—just enough to make your breath catch.

"but you made this personal. you dragged it out. you turned it into a running gag." he leans down slightly, until your noses are nearly brushing. "and now you're gonna watch what happens when you say shit you can't back up."

your throat works around a swallow. your persona starts to crack.

still—you can't not be a brat.

"so what, you're gonna just pull your dick out like some frat boy in a scandal?" you snort. "you're so mad over a joke, you're—"

"baby," his voice cuts you off again, soft but dangerous.

"a joke is calling me clingy or annoying. a joke is editing me into a pink onesie." he steps even closer, "but accusing me of being a submissive pillow princess with a dick that couldn't break a hymen?" he tilts his head, mocking, "that's slander."

you flush. deeply, "you saw that post?"

"i've seen every post," he says coolly. "and the reblogs. and the tags. and the memes."

you suddenly feel so small. not because he's taller—though he is—but because you'd spent months building this image of jake sim as a joke. a punchline. a target.

and now he's right here. and he's pissed.

"you're really that bothered?" you ask, but your voice is quieter now, unsure. "bothered?" he repeats, almost scoffing. "sweetheart, i was obsessed." his hand lifts again, brushes your hair away from your face, fingers dragging a little too slow behind your ear.

"you don't understand what it's like to be degraded by someone who's too cowardly to even show their face." he pauses, his eyes dropping to your lips, "but i'll show you."

you swallow hard. "so what?" you ask, trying not to waver. "you want me to apologize? to... take it all back? post a formal retraction about your dick?"

he grins. slow and sharp, "nah."

"i want you to see it," he pauses, lets the words sink in. "and then i want to see the look on your face when you realize you were dead fucking wrong."

your mouth opens. no sound comes out. your heart is pounding so fast you think you might throw up. because there's teasing and there's joking and there's flirting with danger—but this? this is crossing the line, and you don't know if you want him to stop.

you laugh, it comes out breathy and nervous and completely unconvincing. "okay," you say, holding your hands up a little, trying to cut the tension with sarcasm, "haha, very funny. you got me. you've officially scared the shit out of me, and if that was your goal, congratulations."

jake just stands there. watching you. expression unreadable, unreadable and dark. you shift on your feet, trying to find a way out of this, trying to reclaim some sense of control.

"look," you continue, "i'll take everything down, okay? every post. every meme. every stupid out-of-pocket caption." you swallow. "i'll issue an apology. hell, i'll write a thread. a whole google doc. whatever you want."

you inch away from the door, toward the side of the room, trying to put some space between you.

"i crossed a line. i get that now." you laugh again, weaker this time. "like—clearly."

jake still doesn't speak, he starts walking.

slow. silent. like a cat with its prey cornered.

your back hits the wall.

"i'll stop posting about you," you rush out, your heart beating frantically when you feel jake's breath fan against your cheek. "seriously. no more degrading content. no more jokes. you win, okay?" his palm hits the wall beside your head with a sharp thud.

you freeze.

he leans in.

"i don't want a fucking apology," he murmurs, voice thick and low, the sound of it making your legs weaken. you try to hold his gaze, but it's hard when he's this close. when you can smell his cologne—clean and warm, like cedar and skin. when you can see the heat in his eyes, the tension in his jaw.

"i want you to look at me," he says, "and admit you were wrong."

"i just did—" "no." his other hand comes up, fingers ghosting your chin, tilting it up. "not because you're scared. not because you think i'm gonna sue your ass. i want you to say it because you know."

you suck in a breath as his fingers graze your throat. not squeezing. not threatening. but claiming, staking a presence.

"you think i'm some submissive little pushover," he whispers, "who just lays there and takes it. soft. boring. harmless."

your heart pounds in your chest so loud you swear it echoes. "you think you own the narrative. that you get to decide who i am, what i'm like in bed, how big my fucking dick is."

you flinch at the way he says it, so vulgar and harsh it shoots straight to your core.

"but the second i show up—" his thumb brushes your bottom lip. "you're quiet. nervous. twitchy. like you already know you were talking out of your ass."

you suck in a shaky breath and try to bite back the heat that's crawling up your neck. "you're insane," you whisper, but there's no bite behind it.

his body is so close now, you can feel the heat radiating off him. he hasn't even touched you properly and you already feel like your knees are going to give.

"what do you want from me?" you ask, voice barely holding together. he leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"i want to fuck the lies out of your mouth." his voice is so low, it vibrates down your spine. "i want you to choke on everything you said about me and realize i was never the one being dominated."

you let out a small, shaky sound—and that's when he finally kisses you.

not soft.

not slow.

possessive. like he's claiming what he's owed.

like he's trying to shove every insult back down your throat, one filthy kiss at a time.

your mind blanks the second his mouth claims yours. his tongue pushes past your lips without hesitation, his hand gripping your jaw to keep you right where he wants you, and you feel it deep—too deep. like he's trying to crawl inside your ribcage and brand himself there.

his kiss isn't gentle. it's punishment. all teeth and tongue, your back shoved harder into the wall as he presses against you. his body completely, deliberately dominating yours.

"still think i'm soft?" he growls against your lips when he pulls back, breath ragged, thumb digging into the underside of your chin to keep you looking at him.

you don't answer. you can't.

your mouth is open, panting, lips wet and swollen from how violently he just kissed you. your knees barely hold.

his gaze drops to your mouth. then lower, and lower.

he smirks.

"you look scared," he says, tilting his head slightly. "thought you liked writing filthy shit about me. what happened to all that confidence?"

you swallow hard, still in absolute disbelief, "you're—you're actually insane."

"and you're actually still turned on." his hand drops to your hip, gripping hard, pulling you flush against him—and fuck. he's hard. painfully hard. pressing right against your lower stomach. and he knows you feel it.

your eyes widen. you try to squirm away but there's nowhere to go, your back hits the wall again and his thigh wedges between your legs.

"not so micro now, is it?" he breathes against your neck. you let out a broken sound—half gasp, half groan—and that's when jake loses it.

he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, other hand sliding beneath your shirt, grazing skin and pulling a shocked noise out of you. he doesn't give you room to breathe.

"say it," he growls. "say you were wrong."

you shake your head. still stubborn. still you.

"no?" he scoffs. "fine." his thigh presses harder between your legs, rocking up once. your clit throbbed pathetically at the feeling, it was just enough friction to make your eyes roll back. you try to keep your composure, but he watches your face change—watches your pride falter.

"don't lie to me, baby." his voice drops lower—hungrier. "you're dripping. over the same guy you dragged for months."

you gasp, trying to turn your face away from him, but he leans in again, his nose brushing your cheek.

"you gonna blog about this too?" he whispers. "tell your little followers how jake sim manhandled you and made you eat your words with his cock halfway down your throat?"

you whimper and it disgusts you how fast your body betrays you. how wet you already are. how much you want him to ruin you just to prove you were wrong.

and he can tell.

he sees the shift in your expression. how your resistance is slowly, deliciously, falling apart.

your wrists are still pinned, your breathing uneven, chest rising and falling fast as jake leans in like he owns the air around you.

"i'm done hearing you talk," he mutters, dragging his mouth along your jaw. "i think it's time you showed me just how sorry you really are."

he releases your hands and steps back. you don't move. your legs are trembling, your pride hanging on by a thread.

"on your knees," he says simply.

you scoff, arms folding defensively across your chest, "you can't be serious—"

he tilts his head, "i'm not asking again."

there's no loud threat. no yelling. just the terrifying calm of someone who already knows he's won. you hold your ground—barely. but something about the way he looks down at you, already palming the bulge in his jeans, makes your body respond before your mind does.

you sink, slowly. knees hitting the floor like it's a confession. he watches you with quiet satisfaction, like he's waited for this exact moment.

he had been dreaming about the moment he would get you to himself, on your knees—right where he wanted you.

"look at me," he says, and you do—eyes meeting his as he unzips, the sound ridiculously loud in the silence.

he's already thick in his hand when he pulls it out, and your mouth goes dry. you don't want to admit it, but fuck. it's big. way bigger than you ever gave him credit for. your throat tightens at the sheer weight of it, thick and flushed and veined.

his smirk deepens when he sees the way your eyes drop.

"what was that again?" he mocks, giving himself a slow stroke. "micro?"

you glare up at him, heat crawling up your neck. "i was clearly misinformed."

"say it properly."

you hesitate, his free hand tangles in your hair—firm, but not painful. just enough to tilt your face up toward him.

"say. it."

you grit your teeth, "i was wrong."

"about what?"

you groan. "about your dick. okay? you don't have a micro dick."

he raises an eyebrow, "that all?"

"it's big," you mutter, cheeks burning. "you made your point." he laughs—low and satisfied—and guides your face closer, "not yet."

you gasp when you feel his tip touch your cheek, he grins at your expression—feeling satisfied with your shock. he does a few experimental taps, dragging his length over your lips. you hold in a whine when he smears his pre cum over your bottom lip, almost as if he was applying lipgloss on you.

and then he pushes in.

there's no easing into it—he gives you the thick weight of his cock all at once, making you choke. your hands scrambling to grip his thighs as he holds you there, watching with dark, satisfied eyes.

"look at that," he murmurs. "mouth so full of me you can't even talk shit now." you gag again, but his grip stays steady, fingers flexing against the back of your head as he rocks his hips in slow, controlled thrusts. just enough to make you feel how deep he is and prove how wrong you were.

he could feel how warm your mouth was around him, basking in the feeling of not only pleasure but the satisfaction of shutting you up.

"this what you wanted?" he groans. "to see what i've been hiding in those pants you loved to degrade?"

you can't respond. not when he's using your mouth like a cock sleeve, fucking every insult out of you with a punishing rhythm. spit drips from out of your mouth and onto your chin. tears prick at your eyes and yet—somewhere deep in your gut—you like it.

jake's grip on your hair gets stronger, the pain causing your jaw to slack as you continue to take his brutal pace. you could feel the head of his cock rub against the back of your throat, the force not strong enough to make you gag but enough to cause a stream of tears to run down your face.

your nose touched his pelvis with every thrust, indicating how deep he was going. "fuck. look at you, __. who knew cock being in your mouth is the only way to shut you up."

you whine at his words, looking up at him with pleading eyes—yet you didn't know what exacting you were begging for. you rub your thighs together in hopes for some temporary relief, the scene so lewd that you could feel yourself gush in your panties—holding in the urge to let your hands wander down to touch yourself.

jake looked down at you with hungry eyes, his lip twitching as his grip in your hair grew tighter with each thrust. he let low moans slip from his mouth every time his dick grazed the back of your throat.

"aren't you a dirty little whore.." jake drawls out, his chest heaving with pleasure when he notices how tightly you have your thighs clenched. "getting all worked up for someone you've publicly shat on for having the least sex appeal."

you moaned around him when suddenly he pushed your thighs apart with his foot, wedging his sneaker between your legs—giving you something to ease up the tension in your core.

you mewl when he pushed against your clit, almost urging you to grind down against him while he used your mouth to his hearts content. slowly, but surely—you allowed yourself to ground yourself against him. it sickened you how desperate you had become in just a span of a few minutes.

jake almost cums when he sees you move your hips, desperate for any kind of friction to relieve you from your throbbing clit.

the familiar feeling in his stomach begins to tighten, his grip on you becoming unforgiving as he loses self control and allows himself to push himself into your mouth as much as he could. his tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly now, a mixture of his cum and your spit dribbling out of your mouth.

"f-fuck," he groans. "m'gonna cum.. you're gonna take it? yeah? take it in that bratty mouth, hm?" jake murmurs to what seems himself just before he combusts in your mouth. you swallowed a chocked moan when you feel his warm cum coat your mouth, gagging around him as he twitches.

jake felt as if he was on cloud 9, his head lulling to the side as he keeps your head planted where it is—ensuring that you swallow what he gave you fully.

when he finally pulls back, cock glistening with your spit and his cum, your jaw aches as you swallow the salty yet sweet taste of his release. your chest heaving like you've just survived something.

"mouth open and tongue out," he demands. you hesitantly open your mouth, your tongue out as you show him that you swallowed everything.

you whine out desperately when he slides his foot away, leaving you aching again. jake tsk's, "desperate slut."

he crouches down to your level, thumb wiping the corner of your mouth.

"still think i'm a pillow princess?" his voice is a little breathless now. dark and smug. "or you finally ready to admit you don't know shit about me?"

your throat still burns. your lips are swollen, coated in spit and shame, and jake's leaning over you like he's just getting started.

"on your feet."

you hesitate, still panting, still dazed from the way he fucked your mouth like it was owed to him. but something in his voice—firm, expectant—makes you move. your knees tremble as you rise.

jake doesn't give you time to adjust. the second you're upright, he steps in close, hands on your waist, guiding you backward until your thighs hit the edge of the bed.

you're pressed back against the mattress, thighs parted under his hands, still catching your breath from how rough he'd just been with your mouth. but instead of backing down, you do what you do best—deflect.

"look—how about this," you say, voice shaking but holding onto some scrap of cocky defiance. "i'll just say the blog was satire. irony. you know, performance art or something. no one has to know i meant any of it."

jake's expression doesn't change.

"or better yet—i'll make a new post trashing someone else. redirect the attention. easy." you flash a grin that's all teeth. "maybe i'll even throw in a little praise for you. balance it out."

he just blinks at you. slowly.

"you think you're negotiating right now?" his voice is calm, but the grip on your thighs tightens.

you blink. "i mean, i'm trying to be reasonable—"

"reasonable?" he laughs, but there's no humor in it. "you publicly dragged me for weeks. humiliated me. and now that you're caught, you want to rewrite the narrative?"

"i'm offering solutions—" "you're offering bullshit," he snaps, and in a second he's climbing over you, his body slotting between your legs like it was made to be there. "and you think you still have leverage? cute."

your breath hitches. your hands push at his chest, but he grabs your wrists and pins them down again, harder this time—your body arching into him involuntarily.

"here's what's really gonna happen," he says, leaning in, nose brushing yours. "you're gonna try to flip this. act like you're still in control. try to turn the tables on me."

your throat tightens.

"but you won't. because the second you try, i'll remind you who made you beg. who had you gagging on the dick you said didn't exist." his voice drops lower, dangerous. "and then i'll ruin you all over again."

you glare up at him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and defiance."you know what? fine." your voice is sharp, shaky. "you wanna play games? i'll play. let's see how fast you fold when i turn this around."

he raises an eyebrow. "is that right?" you reach down between your bodies—slow, deliberate—wrapping your hand around him. he's still hard. unfairly so. hot and heavy in your palm.

"maybe i was wrong about the size," you murmur, stroking him slow, his breath hitching. "but maybe you really are just a pillow princess. maybe you like being praised more than you like fucking."

his jaw ticks.

you press a kiss to his neck, voice a taunt against his skin. "what happens if i ride you instead? if i make you cum all over yourself."

he freezes.

"what if i write about that next?" you sit up dragging your tongue along the edge of his jaw. "'jake sim—big dick, zero stamina.' think the internet'll love that?"

you think you've got him.

until suddenly—he flips you.

you yelp, back hitting the mattress again as he rips your hand away from his cock and shoves your thighs up around his waist. the shift is fast, dominant, practiced.

"you really thought that'd work?" he's laughing now—mean, breathless, hungry. "thought you'd rile me up and get the upper hand? you forget who tracked you down and got you here in this room." his voice is pure venom now, thick with want. "who had you gagging and drooling on your knees while you fucked yourself on my shoes not even 5 minutes ago?"

his hands expertly yank off your jeans, his thumb hooked around the waistband of your baby pink cotton panties—teasing you. you writhe beneath him, but he doesn't budge—he presses into you, cock sliding between your clothed folds just to tease, just to show you what you don't get to control.

"you wanna test stamina?" he growls. "i'll fuck you 'til that smug little attitude disappears. 'til you're begging me to stop. 'til you're crying and calling me daddy."

you gasp—rage, arousal, panic blending in your gut—but you can't deny the throb between your legs. the way your body betrays your pride.

he feels it too.

his free hand runs up your sweater, your breath shaking as you feel him run his fingers up your stomach and make themselves comfortable on your tits. letting your hands go momentarily, he's yanking your sweater off and throwing it across the room.

"didn't know bratty girls like you wore baby pink. ruffles, lace trim—bows?" he grins, his hands playing with the frills of your bra as you twitch beneath him.

"fuck you," you spat out, voice coming out weaker than you wanted it to. jake only smirks, his hand reaching up to pull the straps of your bra down—letting your tits fall out. "oh i will," and with that he's taking one of your nipples hostage in his mouth. his grip on your wrists stays planted, not allowing you to move or struggle against him when he nips at the sensitive skin of your breasts.

he switches from left to right for a few minutes, basking in your whimpers and mewls before he kisses down your stomach. pulling away he's back to being face to face with you, a smug look on his face before he plants a kiss to your jaw. the kiss turns into bites, nipping at your neck and chest as he leaves behind purple splotches.

"maybe you can post the marks i left and then bash me," jake grins against your skin. you roll your eyes in response only for jake to shoot you a look that says: behave.

he moves your underwear to the side, exposing your cunt to his hungry eyes. he runs his thumb through your slit, gathering your slick.

"so wet," he mutters, dragging the head of his cock against your slit. "guess your body knows who's in charge, even if your mouth doesn't." he slams into you—deep, all at once—and you scream.

no teasing now. no easing in. no prepping.

just punishment. just proof. just him, ruining you from the inside out like it's the only way to shut you up.

"gonna make you forget every insult," he grits, hips snapping into yours over and over. "gonna fuck the hate right outta you."

he could feel your velvet walls convulse, sucking him in like a vacuum as he thrusts into you. you cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders, back arching, mind blurring. you hate how good it feels. how right.

"gonna ruin you," he whispers, lips at your neck. "and you're gonna thank me for it." his mouth traveling down to your tit to engulf one of your nipples once again.

your body jolts with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping and moans filling the room as you struggle to adjust to his girth.

you're still trembling when jake lifts your chin. his touch is deceptively gentle, but there's nothing soft in his expression. smug. commanding. dangerously patient.

"you still think you were right?" he asks lowly, voice scraping down your spine like velvet over steel. you blink up at him, lips parted, but your throat is dry. no sass now. not with the way your body's still recovering, knees weak, throat raw from every choked sound he pulled from you.

when you don't respond jake stops his movement, his hips go still as he simply stares down at you with a dark look in his eyes.

you were falling apart.

his cock was deep inside you, filling you so completely you couldn't even think straight— but jake wasn't moving. he just held you there, pinned beneath him, wrists trapped against the mattress, his hips grinding slow and mean against yours.

you whimpered, hips twitching up against him helplessly, desperate for more. he smirked down at you, cruel and smug, loving the way your body shook, the way your face twisted in frustration.

"what's wrong?" he murmured mockingly, leaning in so close his lips brushed your ear. "thought you'd be tougher than this."

you rationed with yourself for a moment, were you really going to beg? yes.

you tried to twist your wrists free but his grip only tightened. "please," you gasped out, tears welling in your eyes from how badly you needed to cum. "please, jake, i need it—"

he laughed, low and sharp, and snapped his hips forward once—deep and brutal—making you cry out. but then he stilled again, ignoring your desperate whines.

"you need it?" he repeated, pretending to think. "need my cock? need me to make you cum like the stupid little whore you are?"

your cheeks burned, shame rolling through you, but you nodded frantically.

"say it," he ordered, voice dropping, rough. you squeezed your eyes shut, humiliated, but the words still poured out.

"i need your cock," you sobbed. "please jake, please—i'll do anything, i'll be good, just let me cum—"

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied with himself.

"should've thought about being good before you started running your mouth online," he muttered, dragging his cock slow and deep inside you, making you arch and cry out.

you were shaking now—your whole body burning, every nerve stretched tight and ready to snap.

"you want it that bad?" he asked casually, grinding his hips just enough to make you sob.

"yes," you choked out. "please, jake—please, i need to cum, i can't—"

he grinned wickedly and finally, finally started fucking into you hard—deep, punishing thrusts that made you see stars. your walls clung onto how dick like a suction in attempt to milk him dry.

your moans spilled out loud and wrecked, your whole body bowing off the bed.

"good girl," he murmured darkly, "you're gonna cum when i say. not a second before." you nodded frantically, not trusting yourself to speak without crying. and when he finally, finally leaned down and growled, "cum for me, slut,"

you shattered.

you came so hard you were sobbing, spasming around him, your body giving out completely under his.

jake fucked you through it, laughing under his breath, dragging every last bit of pleasure and humiliation out of you until you were left shaking and gasping for air.

and even then, he wasn't done with you yet. he hadn't cum yet, and at the end of the day that's what you were here for—to be his little cum slut. you barely had time to breathe—your body still spasming from the orgasm he tore out of you before jake grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto him, grinding even deeper.

you yelped, broken noises spilling out of your mouth, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation.

"no," he snapped, voice sharp and final, one hand locking tight around your waist to keep you from moving. "you don't get to run."

your head lolled back, tears slipping down your cheeks, your body a twitching mess.

"too much," you sobbed, trembling violently.

he laughed—laughed—at your misery.

"too bad," he muttered against your ear. "you're not done." he set a brutal rhythm, fucking into you hard, fast, merciless. your thighs shook, your nails dug into the sheets, your mouth fell open in helpless, gasping cries. you could feel yourself spiraling again—pain and pleasure tangled together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

"you think you're in control?" he grunted, slamming into you harder, making you scream. "you think you can say whatever you want about me and not pay for it?"

your whole body jolted with every thrust, the humiliation making your head spin.

"say it," he growled. "say you were wrong."

you whimpered, stubborn even now, biting down hard on your lip. he slowed down, grinding his cock against your sensitive walls in deep, deliberate circles that made you keen helplessly.

"say it," he repeated, cruel and low, "or i'll edge you until you're fucking crying."

your pride crumbled fast.

"i was wrong," you gasped out, voice cracking. he smirked, hips snapping forward again. "about what?"

you squeezed your eyes shut, shame flooding you. "about—about your dick," you choked out. "i lied, you're big—you're fucking huge—"

he chuckled darkly, like he already knew. "good girl," he breathed, voice dripping with mockery. "what else?"

you shook your head frantically, body jerking with overstimulation. he pulled almost all the way out—your cunt squeezing around nothing— before slamming back in so brutally you cried out.

"what else?" he hissed against your throat.

"i—i'm just a stupid bitch who doesn't know what she's talking about," you sobbed, face burning hot.

he laughed again, so fucking satisfied, so cruel.

"that's right," he murmured. "a stupid little whore who can't stop begging for the cock she said was too small."

you whimpered, broken, humiliated beyond repair. and still—your body clung to him, desperate for more. you realized with a sick twist in your gut that you would do anything—say anything—just to have him fuck you harder.

and jake knew it too.

he leaned down close, mouth brushing yours cruelly.

"beg," he whispered. "beg me to ruin you."

you could barely think. your body was burning, trembling, stretched tight around him— your mind a broken mess of shame and need. and still jake kept fucking you deep, rough, relentless.

his hands were everywhere—gripping your hips, your throat, your jaw—manhandling you like you were nothing more than a toy for him to use.

you whimpered when he grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him.

"beg," he ordered again, voice dark, breathless with lust. "beg me to ruin you, slut."

you shook your head at first, a broken little sob tearing from your throat. he growled low, slammed into you even harder—your back arching, a scream ripping from your lips.

"you don't get to say no," he hissed. "you wanted this." tears streamed down your cheeks, your body trembling violently.

"please," you gasped out, the word slipping before you could even think. "please jake..ruin me, use me. fuck me however you want—"

he laughed, so fucking smug, dragging his cock out slow just to make you whine. "good fucking girl," he murmured. "finally learning your place."

you babbled desperate nonsense, sobbing into the sheets, your pride shattered into dust.and jake fucked you through it all—using you like a fleshlight, pounding into you until your legs gave out, until your voice was wrecked and broken.

"this what you wanted, huh?" he sneered, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a sting. "to get fucked dumb? to get put in your place like the stupid little whore you are?"

you nodded frantically, gasping, sobbing, brain completely mush. "can't even speak anymore," he muttered, mocking. "just a cockdrunk mess." your nails clawed helplessly at the sheets, your cunt squeezing him so tight he groaned.

you felt another orgasm building—sharp, unbearable—but you were too gone to even ask permission. you just sobbed and gasped and let him take everything from you.

"yeah, that's right," he growled, voice thick with pleasure. "cum all over my cock, slut. make a fucking mess."

you shattered, your whole body convulsing around him, screaming his name like a prayer, a curse, a broken confession. and jake fucked you through it, dragging every last bit of your pride and resistance out of you, until there was nothing left but a crying, ruined mess on his cock.

you were shaking. your body was limp, wrecked, trembling under the weight of everything he made you feel.

and jake still wasn't satisfied.

he kept moving, grinding his cock deep inside your overstimulated cunt—mocking every broken sob that fell from your lips.

"what's wrong?" he said, voice dripping with fake sweetness. "too much?"

you could only whimper, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. he grabbed your face again, rough, forcing your glassy eyes to meet his.

"you wanted to run your mouth so bad," he sneered. "now you can fucking thank me." your brain barely processed the words, too fogged with shame and pleasure. he slapped your cheek lightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to snap your attention back.

"say it," he barked. "say thank you."

you whimpered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

"th-thank you," you stammered, voice barely a whisper.

he smirked, cruel and satisfied.

"louder," he ordered, snapping his hips forward viciously, making you cry out. "thank you!" you sobbed, your voice hoarse and broken.

he chuckled darkly, his hand sliding down your throat, pressing lightly just enough to make your head spin.

"thank me for ruining you," he muttered, rolling his hips slow and deep, dragging another helpless moan from your lips.

your pride was turned into ash, your mind gone.

"thank you for ruining me," you gasped out, shaking uncontrollably, completely destroyed. he groaned, clearly getting off on how ruined you were—your body slack, twitching, drooling, your cunt spasming weakly around him.

"pathetic," he muttered against your ear. "look at you." you could feel how wet and messy everything was—your thighs sticky, the sheets underneath you soaked.

and still—still—he wasn't finished.

"gonna fill you up," he rasped, voice rough with the effort of holding back. "gonna fuck you so full you'll be leaking for days."

you sobbed, the humiliation sinking deeper into your bones.

"please," you whispered, because you didn't know what else to say anymore. he grunted low in his chest, thrusting faster, chasing his release. he could feel that familiar tinge in his stomach, he was close.

"such a good little cumdump," he growled. "just a hole for me to use." you broke again, another weak orgasm rolling through your abused body.

and jake finally spilled inside you—deep, hot, filling you up exactly like he promised.

he didn't pull out immediately. he stayed pressed deep, making sure you felt every drop. when he finally did pull out, you collapsed completely, a ruined, twitching, crying mess.

and jake just chuckled, so fucking smug. running his fingers down your slit before plugging your fluttering hole, making sure that his cum stays in you for as long as it could.

"maybe next time you'll think twice before running your mouth about me," he said, releasing your wrists before he gets off the bed. he left you there, spread open, dripping, humiliated beyond repair.

and you realized with a sick twist of your gut— you liked it.

you fucking loved every humiliating second of it.

✎﹏﹏

your body aches.

not in the romantic, soft-lit, post-orgasm kind of way.

no. it's raw. it's degrading. it's embarrassing.

your legs are trembling so badly you have to lean on the sink just to stay upright. your thighs sticky, sore. your throat dry and stretched thin from the pathetic, wrecked sounds he pulled out of you.

you yank your clothes back on as fast as your shaking hands allow, muttering curses under your breath. you can't even look at yourself in the mirror. because you know what you'll see: the ruined, wrecked version of yourself jake created.

and you hate him.

you hate how smug he looks when you finally stumble back into the room—hair mussed, shirt untucked, standing like he didn't just break you open with nothing but his cock and his fucking mouth. you hate how he leans against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with a look that says he's already won.

you hate that he was right.

and you really, really hate that you liked it.

you roll your shoulders back, force yourself to stand straight even if your body is begging you to drop.

"that what you wanted?" you rasp out, voice wrecked and scratchy. "you win. congrats. want a trophy or something?"

jake doesn't say a word. he just watches. calm. amused. smug.

and it pisses you off. burns you alive from the inside.

"you got what you wanted. you ruined my pride," you snarl, stepping closer even though your knees are ready to give. "so what now? supposed to kneel and thank you? beg you to keep ruining me?"

he cocks his head slightly, lips twitching.

you hate how unbothered he looks. you hate it so much it makes you reckless.

"you don't actually believe i meant all that, right?" you spit. "you really think i meant it when i said you're big? when i cried about how good you fucked me?"

you scoff, shaking your head with a cold, sharp laugh.

"you're pathetic. you got played because i moaned a little."

and that's when everything shifts.

because jake steps forward—smooth, controlled—grabbing your jaw so hard you gasp, slamming your back against the wall without even looking like he's trying. his face is inches from yours, breath warm, eyes dark and furious.

"still lying?" he murmurs.

your heart pounds wildly. you try to twist away but his grip on your jaw tightens, bruising.

"you begged for my cock," he hisses, thumb dragging across your trembling bottom lip. "you fucking cried for it. and you're gonna stand there and lie to my face?"

you choke on your words, humiliation pouring down your spine in cold waves.

he laughs bitterly, the sound vibrating low in his chest. "guess you really are as dumb as you look."

you flinch.

and jake leans in closer, voice dropping lower, meaner. "you wanna pretend you're still in control?" he taunts, dragging his fingers down your throat slow, almost tender. "you wanna act like you didn't cum so fucking hard you couldn't even say my name?"

you tremble.

but you don't back down—not yet. pride and fear tangled up, keeping you frozen.

he chuckles darkly.

"fine," he says, voice a low threat. "i'll remind you."

his hand snakes between your thighs, shoving your jeans down again, your underwear dragging with it, baring you completely in seconds. you gasp, struggling—but he's too strong, too fast. he grabs you by the hips, throws you onto the bed like you're weightless.

and then he's on you.

he presses your wrists to the mattress with one hand again, his weight pinning you down, his other hand roughly forcing your legs apart.

you barely have time to gasp before he's inside you again—deep, brutal, fucking the defiance out of you one savage thrust at a time.

you cry out, throat raw. he fucks you like he's furious, every slam of his hips meant to punish. "not so fucking smug now, huh?" he pants against your ear.

you whimper, broken sounds spilling out without permission.

"what happened to all that fake confidence, princess?" he mocks, rolling his hips harder, forcing your body to take every inch. "thought you said you could handle it."

you sob, writhing under him, but he doesn't let up. he leans down, dragging his teeth across your jaw, making you shudder helplessly.

"gonna make you beg again," he growls. "gonna make you say it like you fucking mean it."

you try to shake your head—but you're drowning. he's everywhere. he's everything. and no matter how much you try to cling to your pride, it crumbles between your shaking hands.

you're crying now—humiliated tears streaking down your flushed face—as he pounds into you mercilessly.

"please," you choke out, voice cracking.

he chuckles, cruel and satisfied.

"please what, baby?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to a deep, punishing grind that makes your whole body twitch and seize.

"please," you sob again, shame burning you alive. "please let me cum."

he leans back slightly to look at you—hair a mess, eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction.

"you don't deserve to cum," he says, voice mocking. "whores who lie don't get rewards."

you whimper, hips stuttering against his, desperate, broken.

"but," he adds slowly, almost lazily, "if you beg real nice... maybe i'll consider it."

you sob harder, pride shattered into dust. and then—you beg.

you beg like a good little whore.

"please, jake," you cry, voice wrecked and hoarse. "i need it—i need to cum—please, please—"

he grins, dark and cruel, and finally—finally—lets you fall apart again, your body convulsing, cunt clenching around him helplessly as he fucks you through the brutal, soul-crushing orgasm. and you barely have a second to breathe before he's moving again—pulling out, grabbing your face in both hands, forcing your mouth open.

"open wide," he orders.

you're so wrecked you don't even think to disobey. you just open—lips trembling, eyes wide and glassy.

and jake leans over—spits straight into your mouth, thick and wet and humiliating.

you gag slightly, tears burning your eyes.

"swallow," he commands sharply.

you do.

you obey without even thinking.

and he smirks—grabbing his phone, flipping open the recording he just made of your pathetic begging, letting you hear it on loop while you lie there ruined, body trembling, throat raw.

he tucks his phone into his pocket, grabs your chin again, forcing you to look up at him. "remember this next time you wanna talk shit," he says, voice low and smug.

he kisses you—mocking and possessive—and leaves you there: used, wrecked, humiliated, and so thoroughly owned that you can't even pretend anymore.

jake sim ruined you and there's no taking it back.

— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!

3K notes · View notes

i2sunric · 3 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌 (s.jy)

PAIRING: nerdy!jake x reader (f)

SUMMARY: well, it’s not your fault that your boyfriend is perfect, good at school, kind enough tutor you in math and so skilled in bed chem.

WARNINGS: smut. freshman college (they’re 19), jake lives with his parents, grinding, dirty talking, pet names (baby, jakey), manhandling, overstimulation, protected sex (wrap your willies guys), missionary, doggy, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 18th April 2025.

WC: 2.7k

TAGLIST: (permanent) TAGLIST: @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @enhamonsterghoul @star-hoon @slut4hee

Jake’s room smelled of books, fresh laundry, and that faint scent of cologne he always wore— clean, crisp. It smelled like home.

His desk was cluttered but organized in a way that made sense only to him: thick textbooks stacked neatly, a cup overflowing with pens and mechanical pencils, and his laptop open to what looked like an impossibly complicated physics simulation.

You, on the other hand, were sprawled across his bed, your maths textbook abandoned beside you as you dramatically flopped onto your stomach.

"Jake," you groaned, voice muffled against his pillow. "I’m going to fail this test, you have to accept that."

You thought that after high school, all you problems would be resolves. What you didn’t expect, though, was to be forced to take an extra curricular trigonometry lecture that made you want to smash your head against the wall.

Jake, who was sitting at his desk, barely looked up. "You’re not going to fail," he said. "You just need to focus."

"I have been focusing," you argued, rolling onto your back and stretching out like a starfish. "For, like, fifteen minutes."

"Exactly," he deadpanned, finally turning to look at you. "That’s not nearly enough."

You pouted. "But I hate math, it’s stupid and unnecessary. When am I ever going to need to find the limit of a function in real life?"

Jake sighed, closing his book with a quiet thump. "Math is everywhere," he said, pushing his glasses up his nose, a habit of his that you found way too attractive. "It’s in physics, engineering, technology, everything that makes the world work."

You rolled your eyes, sitting up. "Okay, Professor Sim, but I don’t want to make the world work.” You scoffed, “i just want to pass this stupid class and never think about numbers again."

Jake gave you a pointed look. "And I want to make sure my girlfriend doesn’t flunk out of college."

You grinned, crawling off the bed and walking over to him. "Speaking of your genius brain," you murmured, sliding into his lap without hesitation, straddling his thighs as his chair rolled back slightly from the sudden weight. "How’s your project going?"

Jake tensed for half a second before exhaling, hands automatically settling on your waist to steady you.

"It’s going well," he said, though his voice was already shifting, lower, rougher. "But I’ll never finish it if you keep distracting me."

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. "I’m just curious," you purred, looping your arms around his neck. "Tell me what you’re working on, baby."

Jake sighed, but you could see the way his lips twitched, like he knew exactly what you were doing and was helpless against it anyway.

"Fine," he said, adjusting his glasses again. "I’m designing a new type of microprocessor, something that can process data faster and more efficiently than the ones currently in use..." Blah blah blah.

You weren’t really listening, if you were being honest.

You liked hearing him talk, loved the way his voice got all passionate when he explained something he cared about, but the actual words? They went right over your head.

Instead, you focused on the way his hands, so warm and steady, were resting on your waist. Absentminded, like he wasn’t really paying attention, he traced slow circles against the fabric of your sweater, fingertips dipping just beneath the hem to brush against your bare skin.

You bit your lip, shifting slightly on his lap. "Mmm, keep going."

Jake didn’t seem to register what you were doing at first. "Right, so, the idea is that instead of using classical bits, ones and zeroes, you use qubits—" Again more smart words.

You rocked against him, slow, almost imperceptible, but enough. Jake inhaled sharply, fingers digging into your skin.

You smirked. "Go on," you teased.

His jaw clenched. "You’re evil."

You hummed, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "No, I just really like hearing you talk, baby."

His hands flexed on your waist, like he was debating something. Then, as if giving in, he exhaled a low chuckle. "You’re such a fucking brat," he muttered, and the way his voice dropped made heat pool between your thighs.s

He moved one hand up, running it along your spine, pushing your sweater up just enough to expose more of your skin to the cool air. The other hand slid lower, gripping your thigh as you ground against him again.

"You’re not even listening, are you?" he murmured, his lips grazing your ear now. "Not really," you admitted, breathless.

His grip tightened, guiding your movements now, encouraging you to move against him with more purpose. "You just like teasing me, huh?"

"Mmh," you hummed, pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips, then his jaw, then his throat. "I like how worked up you get."

Jake let out a soft curse under his breath, his hips shifting up just slightly to meet yours. "You’re lucky I love you," he muttered, voice strained.

You grinned. "I know."

Then, finally, he broke. His lips crashed against yours, his hands gripping you tighter as he deepened the kiss, swallowing the little sounds you made as you melted into him.

His glasses pressed against your cheek, cool against your flushed skin, but neither of you cared.

"You drive me crazy," he murmured against your lips, his breath warm, his hands wandering. "Always so fucking needy."

You whimpered, rolling your hips again, and he groaned "Jakey," you breathed.

He exhaled shakily, then kissed you again, hungrier this time, like he couldn’t get enough. "You should be studying," he muttered between kisses, even as he ran his hands up your thighs, pushing your sweater higher.

You smirked. "Make me."

And, oh, he did.

Jake groaned against your lips, his grip on your waist firm as he lifted you from his lap, standing up with you in his arms.

Your legs wrapped around his hips instinctively, and you buried your face in his neck, feeling his pulse race under your lips. Your core pulsated with need, and he could feel it even through your shorts.

"You’re gonna be the death of me," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and desire as he carried you across the room.

Jake pushed your math book on the floor, and he laid you down, his body pressing against yours as he kissed you again,, like he’d been holding back for too long.

His hands roamed, slipping under your sweater, pushing it up over your ribs. You arched your back, helping him, and he pulled it off in one smooth motion, tossing it aside.

"Fuck," he breathed, eyes raking over you. His glasses had slid down his nose, and he pushed them up absentmindedly before leaning down to kiss you again.

His hands moved with practiced precision, knowing exactly where to touch, where to squeeze, how to make you shiver beneath him.

His fingers brushed over your thighs, pushing up the fabric of your shorts before he hooked his thumbs in the waistband and dragged them down along with your panties,leaving you bare beneath him.

"You really don’t like making things easy for me, do you?" he murmured, fingers tracing up your inner thigh.

You smirked, breathless. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Jake huffed a quiet laugh, but it was strained, like he was barely holding himself together.

He sat back for a second, pulling off his sweater in one swift motion, revealing the toned muscle beneath.

His skin was warm under your fingers as you reached up, running your hands over his stomach, his chest, feeling him tense beneath your touch.

"Condom," he muttered, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand. You groaned, letting your head fall back against the pillow. "You always do this."

"Yeah," he said, tearing the foil packet open with his teeth, "because I’m not stupid."

You pouted. "I’m on the pill."

"And I like knowing you’re safe." He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours, his glasses sliding down again. "Quit pouting."

You sighed dramatically but let him roll the condom on, watching as his long fingers worked quickly.

Then he was over you again, lips on your neck, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he lined himself up. "You have to be quiet," he murmured, his voice rough as he kissed along your jaw.

"Or what?" you teased, just to test him.

Jake exhaled sharply, then pushed into you in one slow, deep stroke. Your breath hitched, your fingers gripping his shoulders as your back arched off the bed.

"Or I’ll make you," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he started moving, slow at first, like he was savoring every inch of you, but then he set a pace that had you struggling to keep quiet.

He knew what he was doing, exactly how to angle his hips to make your breath stutter, exactly how to roll his hips so you were gripping at his arms, trying so hard not to moan too loudly.

His glasses fogged up from how close he was, the heat between you making them useless, but he didn’t stop to take them off.

You did it for him, reaching up with trembling fingers and sliding them off his face, setting them aside on the nightstand.

He thanked you with a warm smile.

His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded with desire, met yours as he thrust deeper, harder, stealing the air from your lungs. His hand came up, covering your mouth as you let out a soft whimper, muffling the sound.

"Shh," he murmured, his voice like gravel against your skin. "Don’t want my mother hearing how good I’m fucking you, do you?"

You shook your head, but your body betrayed you, your nails digging into his back as he snapped his hips into you again. It was all too much.

You clenched around him, your thighs trembling as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. Jake cursed under his breath, feeling you squeeze around him, and his grip on your hip tightened as he sped up, chasing your release.

"Come for me," he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear. "I wanna feel you."

That was all it took.

Your body tensed, pleasure hitting you like a tidal wave as you bit down on his hand to keep from crying out. Your vision blurred, your fingers digging in his skin as you came undone beneath him.

Jake groaned, his movements faltering for half a second before he found his rhythm again, his thrusts rougher now, more desperate.

He grabbed your leg, hooking it over his hip, pushing deeper, hitting that spot that had you gasping against his palm.

He hadn’t slowed down. His rhythm was deep, fast, relentless. the bed creaking under both of your weight, the headboard softly hitting the wall in time with his thrusts.

You were still whimpering from your second orgasm, your thighs trembling around his waist, your nails digging red crescents into his shoulder blades. Your breath hitched, another moan slipping past your lips before you could stop it. “Jakey! oh—”

His hand came up instantly, covering your mouth again, palm warm and firm.

“Quiet,” he hissed against your cheek. “You’re gonna get us caught.”

Your body arched off the bed beneath him, mouth smothered by his hand, eyes rolling back from the sheer pressure, the stretch, the heat. Your muffled cries only made him thrust harder.

“You like this, huh?” he breathed, watching your every twitch, every gasp, every time you tried to cry out under his hand. “You like when I fuck you like this.”

You nodded desperately, the pleasure building again even though your body felt like it couldn’t take more. Your skin burned, your thighs ached, but none of it mattered. Jake was everything— all you could feel, all you could hear, all you could take.

You released against him, hard, back arching as your whole body seized up and shuddered. Your vision blurred. You felt tears sting your lashes, your voice cracking beneath his hand as your second orgasm ripped through you.

He grunted, letting his hand slide away from your mouth only when your cries became soft gasps His lips found yours in a hungry, breathless kiss, tongue sliding into your mouth like he couldn’t stand even a second of distance.

“Shit,” he panted, pulling back just a little to brush his hair from his eyes. He kissed your jaw, your throat, sucking a mark just below your ear before whispering, “Turn over for me.”

You blinked up at him, dazed. “Jake, I can’t—”

“You can,” he said firmly, kissing you again. “Just one more, baby, you’re doing so good.”

And because it was him uou obeyed.

You turned, limbs shaky, chest pressed to the mattress, ass in the air as you grabbed onto the pillow and buried your face into it. Jake groaned softly behind you.

“Fuck, you look so good like this,” he muttered, dragging his fingers over your lower back, down to your ass, squeezing firmly. “Messy and fucked out… all for me.”

You felt him line himself up again, the blunt head of his cock sliding through your slick folds before pushing into you in one hard thrust that had you biting into the pillow to stifle a scream.

“Oh my God… Jake.”

“Shhh,” he hushed you, hand curling around your hip to pull you back into him, setting a brutal pace that left your legs shaking, your voice broken into helpless sobs. “You have to be quiet.”

“I can’t,” you cried into the pillow, half-laughing, half-sobbing from how good it felt, how completely he wrecked you. “Jake— it’s too much—”

“You’re taking it so well,” he said, voice strained, one hand gripping your waist while the other slid up your spine, pushing between your shoulder blades to press you further into the mattress. “So fucking good for me.”

His thrusts grew rougher, deeper, dragging cries from you no matter how hard you tried to bite them back. You fisted the sheets, knuckles white, body trembling as he angled his hips just right, hitting that spot over and over again until your legs gave out.

Jake leaned down, chest against your back, his breath hot against your ear as he murmured, “You pretend to be all innocent, all shy in front of everyone… but in here? With me? You just want to be ruined.”

You moaned, louder than you meant to, and he growled, his hand flying to your mouth again, fingers pressing your cheek into the pillow.

“You don’t listen,” he hissed, thrusting harder, until the sound of skin against skin echoed through the room. “You want my mother to hear how desperate you are for my cock?”

You shook your head wildly, sobbing beneath his hand as he slammed into you again, and again, and again, until your entire body clenched and your mind blanked. One last orgasm crashed over you, white-hot and dizzying, tearing a scream from your throat that was completely muffled by his palm.

Jake groaned into your neck, biting your shoulder as he came hard, his body collapsing against yours, twitching with aftershocks as he held you tightly, his breath loud and shaky in your ear.

You both stayed like that for a moment, tangled, gasping, hearts pounding like they wanted to leap out of your chests.

Jake pulled out gently, sighing contentedly as he rolled to the side and took the condom off, tying it quickly and tossing it into the bin beside the bed.

He turned to you immediately, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around your exhausted body. Your skin was damp with sweat, your legs trembling, your eyes heavy with sleep and satisfaction.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing, your bodies tangled together, sweat-slicked and trembling.

Jake finally lifted his head, his dark hair sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed. He looked wrecked, but somehow, still devastatingly handsome.

"You okay?" he murmured, pushing your hair out of your face.

You nodded, still catching your breath. "Mh.. It was so good.”

Jake huffed a quiet laugh, leaning down to kiss your forehead. "You are a menace."

You smirked. "You love it."

"You’re exhausting," he muttered, but his arm was already tightening around you, pulling you close.

You grinned, snuggling into his chest. "You love that too."

Jake sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Yeah," he admitted softly. "I really do."

4K notes · View notes

sewaryka · 4 months ago

Text

the so-called mutual pinning

6K notes · View notes

cheeseeatinggoblin · 4 months ago

Text

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fanart #jonathan sims #fanart #magpod #mag 200 #mag 199 #tape symbolism goes hard #tma spoilers

5K notes · View notes

enhaflixer · 4 months ago

Text

dad!enhypen x mom f!reader - enha dilf smut

cw: smut, breeding kink, degradation, 69ing some real filthy some real sweet im ngl 2 u ENHA HARD HOURS MDNI 18+

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Yuri’s finally asleep upstairs, her stuffed bear clutched in one tiny hand. The monitor hums on the kitchen counter. Snow’s falling outside the windows, crackling gently against the fire-warmed glass.

And Heeseung?

He’s looking at you like you’re dessert.

The second you bend down to put your mug in the sink—sweatpants sliding just an inch too low, the back of your tank top riding up—he’s behind you.

His palm presses flat to your lower back. His hips grind into your ass, and you feel him already hard.

“Baby,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “You wanna be a mom again that bad?”

You laugh breathlessly. “She just fell asleep.”

He leans down, lips brushing your ear.

“Then you better keep your mouth shut.”

Your heart stutters. Your thighs clench.

Heeseung grabs your hips, bends you gently over the kitchen counter, and pulls your sweats down just far enough to expose your soaked panties.

“Oh, you’re ready already?” he says, one brow raised. “Just from me watching you do dishes like a good little wife?”

He strokes one finger up the seam of your pussy, still covered.

You squirm. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Heeseung—”

“No,” he whispers, kissing your spine. “Say it.”

“Please fuck me.”

He slides your panties aside and pushes in slowly—deep—like he’s savoring it.

You gasp, hands braced on the cold counter, the stretch already making your legs shake.

And he starts moving.

Not gentle.

Not rough.

Just… focused.

Possessive.

Like he’s claiming you all over again.

“Look at you,” he groans. “Tight like it’s the first time. Wet like you were made for me. This pussy’s been mine since day one, huh?”

You whimper, trying not to moan too loud.

The baby monitor glows quietly in the corner.

Heeseung sees you glance at it and smirks.

“You scared she’s gonna hear?” he taunts. “Worried our little girl’s gonna wake up and hear mommy getting bred like she asked for it?”

You moan into your arm. Heeseung growls.

“God, you’re so fucking hot when you’re trying to be quiet.”

He grabs your jaw, pulls you up just enough to hiss into your ear:

“You know what gets me off? Seeing you with her. Watching you tuck her in, feed her, kiss her little cheeks like the perfect mother.”

He thrusts harder.

“And knowing that this is what you need when she’s down for a nap. Knowing I fuck you so good, you leak for an hour after.”

You’re shaking. Crying out now.

There’s slick dripping down your thighs, onto the floor. Heeseung grabs your chin, makes you look at your reflection in the microwave.

“Look at yourself,” he growls. “So messy. So fucked out. You want another one? I’ll fill you up right now. Knock you up again while our daughter’s sleeping upstairs.”

You cum so hard your knees give out.

Heeseung holds you up.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “Now hold still.”

He fucks you through it. Doesn’t pull out.

And when you feel it—that rush of heat, his cum spilling inside you—you moan like it’s your own orgasm.

Heeseung pants against your neck, then presses the softest kiss to your temple.

“That’s how you start a family vacation.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

The baby’s asleep. The monitor’s on. You’re freshly showered, wearing nothing but a robe, leaning against the headboard with your legs tucked up beneath you.

Jay walks in slowly, towel around his neck, hair damp from his own shower. You smile at him, lazy and soft. He looks at you like he’s been starving.

“You shouldn’t sit like that,” he murmurs, climbing onto the bed.

“Like what?”

He crawls toward you, eyes locked on the part of your robe that’s come slightly undone.

“Like your pussy isn’t the only thing I’ve thought about all day.”

You laugh, but your breath catches when he kisses your thigh. Just above the knee. Then higher. Then higher.

“I’m serious,” he whispers, lips dragging against your skin. “Ever since you got pregnant… ever since you gave birth…”

His hands slide under the robe. Push your thighs apart gently.

“You taste different. Sweeter. Thicker. Like wine.”

You stare down at him, stunned. Flushed. “Jay—”

But he’s already kissing your pussy like it’s communion.

Slow, reverent. Like he’s praying.

He moans into you, loud, unashamed. His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer. You feel his lips part—his tongue flatten—and then he’s drinking you like he’s been deprived.

“Fuck,” he groans, breaking away for a second. “You taste like something aged in heaven and bottled for sinners.”

You whimper. Try to close your legs.

He growls. “No. You gave me a child. You really think I’m ever gonna stop tasting you?”

He eats you with slow, devastating focus. Not teasing. Not rushed. Just deep, soft, relentless devotion.

You cum once—twice—he doesn’t stop.

Even when your thighs tremble, even when your hips jerk up, even when your hand grips his hair like a lifeline.

Jay doesn’t stop until you’re crying.

And when he finally comes up, lips shiny, chin wet, eyes dark?

He kisses your stomach.

The stretch marks.

The curve of your softened belly.

The skin he watched stretch around his baby.

“You taste better now,” he murmurs. “Because you’re mine in every way. And I’m never gonna let you forget it.”

𝐒𝐢𝐦 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧

He’s been hard all goddamn day.

You’ve been walking around the house in that little tank top, no bra, nipples brushing the fabric every time you breathe. You keep bending over to pick up your son’s toys, bouncing him on your hip like some sweet little housewife. Jake hasn’t had your pussy in a week, and it shows.

Every time you talk to him, his brain short-circuits.

Every time you smile at him, his cock twitches.

Your son Jacob?

Beautiful. Perfect. The light of his life.

Also ruining his sex life.

It’s not your fault. Jake knows that. But he’s still spiraling.

It’s 9:46pm.

The baby’s finally asleep.

You’re barely in the bedroom before he’s on you.

He locks the door. Turns around. And says it—

“Get your ass on the bed before I fuck you against the wall like a rabid dog.”

You blink. “Jake—”

“No. I’ve been jerking off to the memory of your pussy for six fucking days. I came in the goddamn laundry room this morning like a pervert. The second that kid shuts his eyes, I’m in you.”

You’re already backing up. Jake follows, jaw tight, cock fully hard in his sweats.

“You’ve been teasing me all fucking day. Walking around with your tits out like you don’t know what you’re doing. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

He drags your shorts down. Sees your panties. Laughs, mean and low.

“Oh, these are getting ruined. Hope you weren’t attached.”

He kisses you. Rough. Possessive.

Then drops to his knees and spits on your pussy through the fabric.

“Been dreaming about this cunt. Swear to god, baby. You’ve got the kind of pussy that ruins people.”

You’re gasping. Squirming. Already dripping through the cotton.

Jake groans. “Fuck, you’re soaked. You miss this mouth too, huh? Miss being licked until you cry? Look at you—messy and shaking, and I haven’t even pulled the panties off yet.”

He pulls them aside, tongue already out, devouring you like he’s starving.

He’s loud. Sloppy. Mouth wet and wide and relentless.

“Fuck, I forgot how good this tastes. Like candy. Like fucking syrup. Wanna drown in it. Wanna tonguefuck you until you start babbling, baby. Give me that shit.”

You cum in his mouth in under two minutes.

He doesn’t stop.

“You think I’m done? Nah. Not even close. I’m not pulling my mouth off this pussy till your legs stop working.”

“Mamaaaa?”

Both of you freeze.

“Mama, snack please?”

Jake lifts his face from between your thighs, chin soaked. He blinks once.

Then stands up.

Calm. Still. Murderous.

“I’m gonna drop him off at my mom’s.”

You’re panting. “Jake—”

“I swear to fucking god, I love him, but if he interrupts me one more time, I’m going to lose it. I’m on the edge, baby. Your pussy’s dripping, my balls hurt, and my mouth tastes like heaven.”

He pulls his hoodie on. Wipes his face with the sleeve. Grabs his keys.

“Get ready. Because when I get back, I’m going to come in you until you’re stuffed so full you forget your own name.”

He leans down, kisses your pussy one more time.

Smirks.

“Try not to cum without me.”

And walks out the door.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

It’s late.

And Sunghoon’s at his limit.

The boys fought all day—chased each other with brooms, cried over identical socks, tried to body slam each other off the fucking couch. He broke up four WWE reenactments, confiscated two folding chairs, and heard the phrase “Spear him!!”more than a Monday Night Raw announcer.

He didn’t even finish his dinner.

Now you’re on your knees, robe slipped off your shoulders, tits swaying as you crawl between his legs with that look in your eye.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease.

He just pulls his cock out—already hard—and groans:

“Open your fucking mouth, baby. Daddy needs to forget he’s a parent for ten fucking minutes.”

You moan like you were born for it, lips parting, tongue flat as he feeds it to you inch by inch.

“Goddamn,” he hisses. “That mouth. You’ve been thinking about this all day too, haven’t you? Walking around like my dumb little housewife—cooking for our kids while this tight little throat’s just sitting here. Untouched.”

You gag. Loud. He grins. Dark. Mean.

“That’s it, baby. Fucking slobber on it. I want your spit dripping down to your tits.”

And then—

SLAM. SLAM. SLAM.

“DAAAAAADDDD!!!!!!!”

Sunghoon freezes mid-thrust.

You look up at him—dazed, cock still in your mouth, tears brimming.

He blinks.

Clenches his jaw.

Looks at the door.

“DAD!! JAEWON WON’T TAP OUT—HE’S NOT EVEN SELLING!!”

“HE HIT ME WITH THE PILLOW TOO SOFT!! THAT’S NOT A REAL FINISHER!!”

Sunghoon exhales like he’s in prison.

Stares at you. Then back at the door.

And then he laughs. Quiet. Deranged.

“Let them fight.”

He grabs your head in both hands, forces your face down until you’re choking on his cock again.

“They wanna pretend they’re in the ring?” he growls. “Fine. They can wrestle to the sound of their mother being face-fucked.”

You whimper, throat bulging.

“Yeah. Gag on it, slut. Show me how much you missed this. Bet your pussy’s soaked already.”

You’re dripping. Pathetically.

You can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move—but Sunghoon doesn’t care.

He keeps fucking into your throat like it owes him something, hips snapping rough, deep, relentless.

“Don’t stop. Don’t even think about stopping. They wanna scream through the door? Let them.”

You moan around him—loud. Shaky.

One of your tits bounces against your stomach with each thrust, and he watches it like he’s hypnotized.

“DAAAAAAD!!! CAN YOU COUNT TO THREE?! JAEHYUN’S PINNING ME AND WON’T GET OFF!!”

Sunghoon barks a laugh, head thrown back.

“Yeah, hold on—let me just finish throatfucking my wife so I can come count to three like a fucking WWE ref.”

You gag so hard tears stream down your cheeks.

“That’s it, baby. God, you look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat. Bet they’ll shut the fuck up if they hear you choking on daddy’s dick.”

You cum untouched.

Right there on your knees, body shaking, soaked down your thighs—just from the way he talks to you. The way you knowhe’s been waiting all fucking day to use you like this.

Sunghoon feels it.

He pulls you off, cock soaked, saliva clinging in strings to your lips. You’re panting, teary-eyed, flushed.

“You done?” he murmurs. “Or you want me to make them wait while I use your pussy next?”

“DAD. I’M GONNA DO A LADDER MATCH OFF THE STAIRS IF YOU DON’T COME OUT.”

Sunghoon sighs.

Looks down at you.

Smiles.

“Five more minutes. Think you can handle it, mommy?”

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐨

It’s past ten. The house is quiet—finally.

And Sunoo is face down in the mattress, one sock still on, his shirt halfway pulled up his back like he got undressed mid-collapse and gave up.

You close the bedroom door softly. Climb in next to him.

“Long day?”

He groans into the pillow.

“She cried because I gave her the green cup instead of the pink one. Then she screamed when I tried to switch it. She said the bubbles in the bath were ‘too round.’”

You smile, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“And then,” he continues, voice muffled, “she fell asleep on me at six-thirty, woke up ten minutes later, and punched me in the nose. I think she might be feral.”

You laugh softly, kissing his cheek.

He rolls over—barely. One eye open. Face flushed from stress and exhaustion and not getting to touch you for four days straight.

“I need you to ride me,” he whispers.

You blink. “Right now?”

“I literally can’t move.” He stretches his arms out uselessly. “My soul left my body around lunchtime. I need you to do everything. Just use me. Treat me like a toy. I’ll whimper, I swear.”

You bite your lip.

He looks so pretty like this.

Messy. Tired. Desperate.

So you peel off your clothes—slowly, deliberately. He watches through heavy lashes, licking his lips when you tug your panties down.

“Please,” he breathes. “Come sit on it. I’m not even kidding. I think I’ll cry if you don’t.”

You crawl into his lap, straddle him gently, and feel how hard he is already—twitching under the waistband of his boxers. You free him with a soft gasp, stroke him once, twice, then sink down slowly onto his cock.

Sunoo whines.

Like, really whines. Head thrown back, hands twitching against the sheets.

“Oh my god,” he whispers. “You’re so wet. Baby, you’re so fucking wet. And warm. You’re gonna kill me.”

You rock your hips slowly, grinding down, pussy clenching around him with each roll. He’s not moving at all—just laying there, fully at your mercy, biting his lip and moaning so sweetly it makes your toes curl.

“You’re such a good boy,” you murmur, leaning forward to kiss his neck. “Letting me use you like this.”

He whimpers. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

You ride him slow and deep, your tits brushing his chest, his cock hitting just right with every movement. He’s flushed, wrecked, totally silent except for the filthy little sounds leaving his throat.

And when you clench around him hard, he gasps and cries out:

“I’m gonna cum—oh my god—don’t stop, please, baby, I need it so bad—”

You fuck him through it. Harder. Deeper.

He cums with his mouth open, eyes wide, hips twitching under you like he’s about to pass out.

He goes still. Completely still.

Eyes closed. Breathing shallow.

You brush his hair back.

“Sunoo?”

He hums, dazed. “You broke me.”

You laugh, kiss his forehead.

“Do you want water?”

He shakes his head, voice barely audible.

“I want Mirae to sleep till she’s eighteen. Then she can move out.”

𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧

You’ve never hated your own child more than you did tonight.

You love Noa—of course you do—but after ninety minutes of pure hell (a tantrum about socks, three fake pees, one real one, and exactly zero full minutes of sleep), you’re about ready to throw yourself out the window.

Jungwon—freshly showered, soft-eyed, hoodie sleeves pushed up, licking the frosting spoon you didn’t get to finish?

You’re gonna ride his fucking face until he can’t speak.

He walks into the bedroom, hair messy, voice raspy. “She’s finally down. I think.”

You’re already pulling your shirt over your head.

He blinks. “You okay?”

“No,” you snap, kicking your shorts off. “I’ve been thinking about 69ing you for three goddamn days and if I don’t sit on your fucking face right now I will cry.”

His jaw drops. “Wait—like, now?”

You crawl onto the bed. “Yes. Backward. Full weight. No mercy.”

He’s stunned for half a second—then his cock jumps in his sweats.

“Oh my god.”

“Lie down,” you growl.

He obeys. Flat on his back, head against the pillows, already hard and leaking by the time you swing a leg over his head. You lower your soaking pussy onto his mouth, facing his cock, and his hands clamp onto your ass like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“Use my face,” he pants. “Fucking sit on it. I can take it.”

And you do.

You drop onto his tongue, grind down hard, moaning when he licks a fat stripe up your pussy and starts sucking like it’s his first meal in weeks.

You wrap a hand around his cock. He gasps into you.

“This nasty little wife,” you mutter, already jerking him off, “riding your face like she’s trying to drown you. Think you’ll pass out, baby?”

He moans. Loud. Unfiltered.

His tongue is everywhere—in your pussy, on your clit, dragging through your folds while you bounce gently on his mouth like it’s your fucking throne.

You spit on his cock. Loud. Filthy.

It lands on the head, stringy and warm, and you spread it down the shaft while you twist your wrist and sink your mouth down on him in one smooth, practiced stroke.

Jungwon chokes.

He jerks once under you—then groans into your pussy, hips stuttering like he’s going to cum already.

“You close?” you giggle, pulling off with a messy pop. “Already? Poor thing. You just want to fill my throat while I cum all over your face, huh?”

He moans. Loud.

You lick a stripe up the underside of his cock and say:

“What if I squirt all over you, baby? Would you drown for me?”

He nods into your cunt. You feel it.

So you bounce harder. Fuck his face faster. Slurp his cock between your lips like it’s your favorite flavor and moan around him when his tongue flicks just right—

You cum first.

Hard.

Your thighs squeeze his head like a death grip as you cry out, leaking into his mouth while he keeps licking, tongue working you through it while his hands pull your ass down, grinding you onto him.

You don’t even give him time to recover.

You suck his cock deep—down your throat, swallowing him whole until he cries out into your pussy and cums down your throat so hard you choke.

You swallow.

Keep sucking.

He whimpers.

When you finally lift off his face, he’s wrecked.

Mouth glazed in your slick, lips swollen, chest heaving.

You wipe your chin, swing around, and lean down to kiss his cheek.

“Next time, you better ask for it. I’m not gonna be the only one begging.”

He blinks. Tries to speak.

Fails.

You smirk.

“Sweet dreams, husband.”

He falls asleep with your taste still on his tongue.

𝐍𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐤𝐢

The house is quiet. Monitor glowing faint on the nightstand. Just the sound of your breathing and the rustle of sheets as you look up.

He’s already shirtless. Grey sweats sitting low, waistband dipping under sharp hips. Hair messy from running his fingers through it, still flushed from cleaning up the kitchen, checking the monitor twice, pretending he wasn’t aching the whole time.

You blink sleepily.

“Come to bed, Riki.”

He doesn’t answer right away.

Just walks to the edge of the bed, climbs in behind you, and presses himself against your back—body warm, hard in all the places that count. His hand slides under your shirt and cups your belly. Not your tits. Not between your legs.

Just your belly.

“I miss this,” he murmurs. Quiet. Low. Dangerous.

You pause.

“You miss what?”

He kisses the back of your neck.

“When you were pregnant.”

Your breath catches.

“Riki—”

“You were glowing. Round. Always out of breath. So soft and full and mine.”

You shiver when his hand slides down—slow, reverent—and presses between your legs.

“Your body knew what I wanted before you did,” he whispers. “Now it’s empty. And I want it full again.”

You turn around to face him.

He’s already hard, pressing up against your thigh. His eyes are wild now, lips parted, flushed all the way to his ears.

“You want another baby?” you ask, barely able to breathe.

He nods once.

“I want you pregnant again, baby. I want you leaking, glowing, begging me to slow down because I won’t stop fucking you.”

You moan.

He flips you onto your back without warning, dragging your panties down, pressing his cock against your soaked entrance.

“You’d look so pretty round again. Tired all the time. Needy. Can’t even ride me properly without whining about your hips.”

You gasp as he slides in, slow and deep and possessive.

“Fuck—Riki—”

“Don’t worry,” he grits out. “I’ll fuck it into you slow. Make sure it takes.”

His thrusts are smooth, devastating. One hand gripping your waist, the other sliding under your shirt to palm your tits.

“These got so big when you were carrying,” he whispers, biting his lip. “So heavy. You hated it. I loved it.”

You whine—louder now. He smiles.

“God, you like it too, huh? Getting knocked up? Being so full you can’t think straight?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—”

“You’re so ready for it,” he moans. “Already dripping. Your pussy’s so greedy, baby. She knows what I want.”

He fucks you harder then. Deeper. His pace messy and obsessive.

When he cums—hot and deep and shaking—he doesn’t move.

Just stays buried inside you, breathing ragged, holding your hips like he can will it into happening.

“Keep it,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “Don’t let it go. I wanna see you big again.”

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging him down into another kiss.

He groans.

“I’ll give you as many as you want. Just keep letting me ruin you like this.”

TL: @addictedtohobi @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @ddolleri @elairah @zzhengyu @annybah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @hihway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @enhaverse713586 @cristy-101 @bloomiize @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex @sol3chu @simj4k3 @jakewonist @azzy02

5K notes · View notes

jaylaxies · 2 months ago

Text

CALL ME WHEN YOU HATE ME LESS

PAIRING: jake sim x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and heeseung).

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, blowjob, using panties as a gag, spitting kink, edging, squirting, slight overstimulation, mentions of fighting, blood, usage of nicknames, slowburn if you squint, emotional trauma, lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 18,321 words. (18.3k)

SYNOPSIS: Jake Sim was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect lips. But between late night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout, and honestly, it could go either way.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).

A/N: hihi, angels! if you have seen this before then yes, it is a revamp of my jeno fic as requested by a few anons! i hope you guys will enjoy it! all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine.

Comparison.

The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing.

That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to.

It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jake to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family.

The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jake was just four back then, he didn’t bother changing his surname. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye.

Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with.

The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar.

Jake on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed.

It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was.

That’s when things started looking down for Jake. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that.

Others didn’t bother doing the same for him.

Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football.

Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return.

Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma.

“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Sim,” Jake’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.”

Fuck.

Jake had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place.

“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jake’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin.

“Why are you here?” Jake asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled.

Jake’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man.

“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jake a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone.

Jake scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes.

He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back.

He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day.

The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month.

“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jake made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before.

Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes.

With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before.

He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jake being the student you’ll have to teach for the same.

You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”

His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised.

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jake rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level.

You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which, I don’t have time to spare.”

“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?”

“Sim Jake, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.”

“You don’t know shit about me,” Jake seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes.

“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you.

“You—”

Jake’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe.

Meanwhile, if Jake thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions.

“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time.

You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jake’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way.

“I’m Jaehyun, Jake’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands.

Jake scoffed, “she’s not—”

“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld.

It was ridiculous.

It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that.

He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jake deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background.

He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother.

With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother.

It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day.

And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met.

Jealousy was indeed a bitch.

Chapter 2: Surrendered to the skirt.

Two days passed by and Jake’s mood showed no progress in terms of improving, rather, he felt worse each time the memory invaded his brain. He tried his best to sit down and open the first module of the unit he had to study.

It’s not like he was bad at studying, he was just a bit out of practice, and well, his mental health wasn’t doing much to help him get any better.

Just when he was about to actually get a hang of getting into the topic, the doorbell rang. His parents were out for business, as usual, and his step brother was busy doing morning shifts, which meant that he was alone at the mansion, minus the myriad of worker staff they had to take care of the place.

Essentially, he had to get down to see who it was at the door, only to spot you leaning against the doorframe as one of the attendants had asked you to wait. He stopped, observing you from the staircase as you typed something on your phone.

Why were you here after clearly rejecting him? Why were you here when he’s clearly told you he doesn’t want you to be his tutor?

Scoffing, he walked down the stairs and towards you, standing right in front of you, clearly invading your personal space as he decided to lean against the same side of the thick door frame with his brows raised.

You took a second to take in his appearance as he was clad in casual gray sweatpants with a blank tank, which honestly did nothing to hide his muscles.

“Why are you here?” Jake asked with a bored tone.

“I’m here to teach you, remember?” You gave him a pointed look.

“And I clearly told you I don’t wish to study from you, it’s better if you leave now. I’ll just tell Mrs. Kim that you taught me,” he said, almost turning back to go inside.

“And have them wondering how you failed even after getting tutored by me? Yeah, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, inviting yourself in without second thoughts.

“Y/n, I’m not fucking kidding, you should leave. Besides, the one you came for isn’t at home at the moment,” he muttered bitterly.

That caught your attention, “oh? Busy with a job then?” You asked, looking around the exquisite paintings hung at the entrance of his place.

“Are you gonna leave or do I have to call the guards to escort you out?”

You chuckled, “you really don’t want the previous year questions I have? The council students get them each year you see, they’re bound to guarantee you good marks,” you explained with a smirk.

Jake groaned, his lip bitten as he tried to think if tolerating you would be worth the questions, but his football career was at stake and there was no better option but to accept it.

“What’s the catch?” Jake asked after a few seconds, sighing with defeat.

“Nothing at all. We both know that you need these papers to get the grade that you wanna achieve and I’ll get my extra credits,” you reason.

“You just wanna meet my brother,” he said dryly, “either way, you won’t get to see a lot of him, he’s always at the hospital, working and being the perfect son he is. Plus, he’s definitely not into uni students,” he looked you up and down, soon gulping and looking elsewhere.

You were clad in a pretty skirt which showed off your legs—which you did wear in hopes of crossing paths with Jaehyun, but you completely missed how Jake was staring at your body.

He wasn’t sure if it was out of hatred that he stared at you, or it was admiration because you were one of those people he despised—overachievers.

You were in the student council, got good grades and professors favoured you, it wouldn’t be a surprise if your parents loved you for being the ideal daughter. It most certainly didn’t help that your appearance seemed as if you were the sweetest, kindest angel on earth, which wasn’t the case when you were around Jake though.

“I’ll manage,” you shrugged, “so, I need your final word, Mr. Sim.”

“I am sure I can find better tutors than you,” he raised his brows, challenging you and you didn’t look fazed at all.

“I am quite literally the best, professor Kim asked me to tutor you for a reason, besides, no one’s gonna agree to help you out with exams being only one month away,” you made your point, extending your hand for him to finalize his decision.

Overconfidence. He sighed.

Jake stared at your extended hand, thinking of the bigger picture here. He’d get tutoring and would be able to score decent grades if he gets back to his usual routine of studying.

Downside? He’d have to face you each day.

Sighing and keeping his feelings in check, he simply nodded, taking your smaller hand into his as he accepted the offer, suddenly aware of the warmth of your palm and how it leaves a tingling feeling behind as you shake his hand firmly with a smirk.

“So, where are we gonna study?”

Chapter 3: Silent room, a loud mind.

Turns out, it’s not that easy to sit down and just teach Jake.

Given the amount of classes he had missed, or rather, the amount of classes he had managed to attend, it was clear that he didn’t even have the basic idea of the syllabus for the semester modules.

Moreover, you had already pissed him off by mentioning how you didn’t expect him to have such a clean and organized room, as if you had already decided that he was going to be a messy human.

Moving forward, you both sat down next to each other with your laptop open in front of you as you made him write down all the topics he needed to cover for the next month, forming a sort of timetable of a kind.

It was surprisingly peaceful between you two, as if you both wished to get over with it as soon as possible, behaving as civilly as you could but there was this one thing that Jake couldn’t stop doing.

Overthinking.

It’s the way you looked his way with disappointed and concerned filled eyes whenever he messed up, the way his jaw clenched when you told him to do better, the way he couldn’t help but stare at your glossed up lips as you looked around his room, eyes settling on his childhood pictures which were framed.

It was also new to him to actually interact with people outside of his football team, especially girls. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to one. He wondered what was going on in your mind, he wondered if you were silently judging him through it all.

That’s all what people in his life did anyway.

“You were cute as a kid, what happened to you now?” You joked, chuckling as you looked his way, only to find his mouth slightly agape.

He hadn’t expected you to say that, and he certainly didn’t want to retort back with something that would ruin his mood, “I grew up to be hot is what happened to me,” he replied smoothly.

“Oh, so you do know how to joke around,” you raised your brows in surprise. It was indeed the image he had formed over the years. The image of him being nothing more than a rude jock who wouldn’t even reply to someone nicely.

Now that you were actually interacting with him, you were going to find out how many of the rumors were true about him.

He only leaned closer at your statement, you could see his muscles flexing as he rested one arm on the table in front of you both, “it’s not a joke, love. I am hot.”

You scoffed at the term of endearment, suddenly aware of his scent now that he was so close to you, “and egoistic too,” you helpfully added.

“Rightfully so.”

Your childish argument was interrupted that very second as the door to Jake’s room swung open, revealing the exact man you came to see.

Jaehyun was smiling, dressed in black slacks and a button up shirt as he welcomed you here, and you were quick to notice Jake’s mood turning fowl that very second.

“Thank you so much for coming here, Y/N. Let me send a few snacks and drinks for you both while you study,” he smiled, and you rushed up to stand, not even bothering about the pen that fell down as you did so.

“Jaehyun,” you walked up to him, much to Jake’s dismay, “oh, you don’t have to do anything,” you smiled sweetly, and he only shook his head softly, grabbing your arm.

“Don’t worry about it, just sit and relax, okay?” He squeezed your arm, going downstairs and you sighed with a smile. Even his scent was perfect to you.

“You done daydreaming?” Jake asked, deadpanning once his brother had left.

“You done solving the question?” You retorted.

He sighed, as if his energy was drained already, “yeah, just check and get this over with,” he said, handing you the binder and looking elsewhere.

It was probably the first time you actually paid attention to his dejected tone, as if he didn’t have the energy to fight back, and you obviously didn’t wish to irk him more, especially when he looked so frustrated right now. Thankfully, a lot of his answers were indeed correct, which was another surprise to you.

He was smart, he just simply didn’t wish to study.

“Something wrong?” He asked, cocking his brow and you blinked, “you’re actually not as dumb as you portray yourself to be,” you mumbled, checking everything thoroughly.

It should’ve been insulting to Jake per se, but even the slightest amount of approval was a big thing for him, causing the corner of his lips to curl up. He felt insane, the amount of emotions he felt in a single day was perhaps the reason for the same, courtesy of you.

He was glad Jaehyun didn’t enter the room again, sending in a servant staff to give you the snacks instead, which maintained the peace throughout the session.

You couldn’t help but notice how well he concentrated once there was silence in the room, your eyes focused on his hand gripping the pen, making it seem more veiny than it already was.

Also, you didn’t miss the hint of a smile ghosting his face when you told him he did a good job right before leaving, which made you think of a few things, one being—

He looked beautiful with a smile.

Chapter 4: You can’t read my mind, so read my lips.

As much as Jake loved the comfort of his room, he really wanted to avoid you bumping into Jaehyun again.

Even the thought of your interactions, your fake sweet smiles, made him wanna punch the wall. Jaehyun really had it easy and Jake never understood why, it was no joke that Jake was decent looking as well, talented in his own way, and a kind hearted person who just happened to have a protective wall around him so as to not get hurt any further.

Which is why you had been tutoring him in the library from the past ten sessions, his own personal request to avoid having privacy with you.

Heck, even Jake didn’t know it was his own mind trying to protect him, which is why he couldn’t let anyone in, anyone.

Which made this situation far from ideal as he had you pressed against the library wall, no distance between you both as you closed your eyes in pure distress.

“What the actual fuck is he doing here?” Your question was directed more to yourself, which confused Jake further.

He poked his tongue into his cheek, annoyance creeping through, “what the fuck is going on?” He asked.

“Shhh, not so loud,” you pressed your palm against his mouth, “just hide me.”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist effortlessly, pinning it above your head, “you don’t tell me what to do, yeah?” He mumbled, flustering you under his gaze before your eyes travelled back to where you were looking initially.

He sighed in annoyance, looking back at the direction of your supposed fear.

Lee Heeseung. Another of Jake’s football teammates.

“Why are you hiding from Heeseung,” he asked, brow raised as he leaned into you.

“Ugh,” you groaned, “he’s my ex, he shouldn’t even be in the library, he’s never here!” You were stressed and Jake smirked devilishly.

“Fucking hell, you’re the girl he keeps on stalking and crying about?” He chuckled, “let me call him,” he turned away for a second.

You used your free hand to grab his nape, “don’t fucking move,” you mumbled.

Perhaps you were too harsh with the grabbing, also not calculating the proximity enough, because Jake’s nose was brushing against yours, lips close to the point of touching, and a low groan escaping his lips as your name rolls out his tongue in the most angry grunt ever, “what the actual fuck are you doing?”

“J—just let him leave,” you mumbled, gulping and closing your eyes, his mint breath fanning your face as heat crept up your neck, up till your ears.

“What will I get out of it,” he asked, his free hand resting on your waist now, “why should I help you?”

“I’m literally helping you study, Jake,” you seethed out.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he groaned, making you open your eyes, staring into his deep ones now, suddenly feeling small under his gaze, and well, his body.

“What?” you asked, looking away to check if Heeseung had left, pushing Jake away the second you confirmed it.

Jake, however, wasn’t having any of it.

With a scoff and the shake of his head, he grabbed your wrist again, twisting it behind your back, not putting too much pressure so it just hurt but still made it clear how he would not let you go so easily, “you can’t run from me.”

“Let go, I fucking swear—” you let out, squirming around and pushing him, he didn’t budge at all sadly.

“You do realize I’m a lot stronger than you, right?” He chuckled.

“Fuck—what do you want me to do?” You rolled your eyes, jaw clenching as you looked at him.

Before he could answer, your eyes widened in fear yet again as you yanked his arm so forcefully, he had no chance to balance himself, a yelp leaving his mouth as you ran and he was following right after you.

Heeseung was back and you could just not deal with his ass anymore, hence the overwhelming response. Fight or flight? Flight for sure. Dragging Jake into it might be a stretch but hey, whatever helped you run away from the gremlin, right?

“Y/N,” Jake hissed yet again, once you stopped by your seat, gathering both yours and his belongings scattered across the table from when you were studying a few minutes back, before getting up to find a book, before seeing Heeseung roaming around the halls of the library.

It was quite amusing to Jake if he was being honest, a mix of feelings as you grabbed his wrist effortlessly yet again, your eyes set on the exit door leading to the parking lot where Jake’s Ferrari Purosangue stood proudly.

“Get in!” You screamed even though you were far from the threat (read: Heeseung) now.

“That’s my car in case you forgot—”

“Now.”

“So fucking annoying—” He grumbled, with a small smile playing on his lips.

You looked so bothered as if you were chased by Ghostface and not Heeseung, even though you probably wouldn’t run away from the prior. It was comical regardless, the long breath you exhaled once you were comfortable on his premium quality car seat, head leaned back fully.

You opened your eyes after a few seconds only to find Jake’s eyes on you, face curved into an amused look. You stared at one another for a second, two seconds, three seconds—and he burst out laughing.

It was probably the first time you saw him laugh like that—so freely, without any care in this world. It was loud but breathless, making his eyes crinkle with small crescents forming, his perfectly aligned pearly teeth showing as he went on, laughing at your disheveled state and crazy response to everything that happened the past twenty minutes.

You were calm and composed for the most part, it was rare for you to look this frustrated over anything, which came as a surprise to Jake, the whole situation seemingly pure comedy to him.

You observed him so carefully, your own lips twitching into a smile and before you knew it, you were laughing alongside him so normally as if two friends were laughing over a joke.

A weird sort of warmth spread over your body, it made no sense honestly, you were pinned to the wall just a few minutes back and Jake looked as if he’d burst into flames with his anger, and now he’s laughing at your disheveled, non-composed state.

Once Jake caught you staring back at him with glittering eyes, and a little smile, he froze. It was easy for him to come back to his senses (read: put his walls back up) which only made your smile drop too. It was awkward, both of you looking elsewhere while clearing your throats, definitely not something you expected.

“Uh—sorry about that, yeah,” you mumbled, playing with the loose threat of your sweater sleeve.

“Yeah, no problem,” he retorted, turning the car engine on to start driving.

Why was it awkward? Because you laughed together like two absolutely normal individuals? Because you had Jake pinning you to the wall to avoid your ex?

Or because you almost kissed. Almost.

The ride back to your apartment was silent, no songs playing in the car, just the small buzz of engine, and the nail tapping on the screen of your phone—to avoid any kind of conversation happening, also clearly missing out on how Jake glanced at you every few seconds, the speed of his thoughts running faster than his own car.

“I’ll—see you tomorrow then?” Your voice cracked as you said so, wincing slightly at your own tone.

Jake was about to chuckle again, yet he covered it with a low cough as he mumbled a yes, as you opened the door once he stopped in front of your apartment.

That’s it, you were leaving, and his eyes didn’t leave you till you disappeared into the apartment.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, groaning as he banged his head into it, a low horn sound only frustrating him further. It was hard for him to drive after, the scene of you being so vulnerable yet glaring at him like a scared little vixen trying to look brave, replayed in his mind.

No, he couldn’t drive, couldn’t focus on the road anymore, stopping the car at a random parking lot of a fast food chain, grabbing his phone to pull up Instagram, specifically Heeseung’s account.

He didn’t have to scroll much to find the picture he was looking for—his teammate, Heeseung, standing right next to you with his arm resting on your waist. Jake didn’t know why that picture left a bitter taste in his mouth all of a sudden, knowing well how badly Heeseung fucked up when he cheated on you.

And now the asshole is running after you again.

You didn’t deserve that, you deserve someone better—someone perfect like you.

He went back, not having it in him to look at the picture again, instead, going to your account now. It looked professional, all your posts being highly calculative to make your feed look pleasing. Your highlights, however, had this one particular picture—a picture of you smiling without a care in the world, so raw, so genuine, so beautiful.

Beautiful.

Jake thought you looked beautiful, and it made him angry.

He was angry—because deep down, he desired to be the reason for your smile.

Chapter 5: Pretty in pink, but my head’s in the dark.

Jake made you smile.

You did know that laugh was contagious, however, you didn’t think you’d actually give in to Jake’s sweet chuckles.

Sleep didn’t come to you easy when the constant reminder of the study session poked the back of your mind, not to mention what happened in the library earlier, where you and Jake almost kissed—

No.

You shook your head. Such niche experiences never falter you, so why was this such a big deal?

Another groan left your mouth, but alas, your body was relaxed enough to sleep so you woke up energetic the next day. It felt oddly friendly when you saw Jake at the University, and he threw a two finger salute your way, you waved back before going your way.

“You’re zoned out, again.” Karina, one of your classmates, pointed out and you sighed as she rambled about how you needed to let some guy in, quite literally, to blow off some steam, which you clearly weren’t doing, hence the stuck up energy.

Being descriptive about it didn’t help either—yet another reminder of how Jake’s body was pressed against yours this hour, yesterday.

Heat crept up your neck, urging you to pack up and leave the room. It was hot, stuffy almost for you to do anything, which is why you found yourself studying at the empty seat of the University park.

You had to face him again, of course, there was no escape to that, and as if the universe was testing you, the time passed by way too quickly for your liking and soon, you found yourself standing in front of the main door of Jake’s place.

Before you could even ring the bell, the door opened to a huffing Jake, almost as if he ran downstairs, but how did he know—

“Hey,” he whispered, looking around.

He didn’t wait for your reply, simply grabbing your wrist and dragging you inside, your skin burning at the unexpected touch, but you didn’t shake him off of you, only asking in a low tone, “what are you doing?”

“Shh,” Jake mumbled, as though he was trying to avoid someone, or rather, trying to hide you from someone. His efforts were futile, however, once he heard that stern voice of his mother booming through the walls of his mansion.

Now you get why Jake was in a hurry, the look on her face had a chill going down your spine.

You felt Jake stiffen alongside you, his hold on your wrist now tighter, uncontrollably so.

“You must be the new tutor for Jake,” she said, scrutinizing every bit of your existence, Jake’s jaw clenched at her unwavering gaze.

“Yes ma’am, It’s a pleasure meeting you,” you tried to say, only for her to cut you off.

“Trust me, darling. There must be no pleasure in helping Jake, but I do hope he learns a thing or two from you—you look like a smart young lady, hopefully, a positive influence on him.”

You looked at her with your mouth open slightly, not believing the sight in front of you. No mother should look down on their children like that, ever.

“Mrs. Jung, I hope we’re talking about the same Jake because he is amazing at studies, he grasps concepts faster than I do, and then I believe I’m the one who’s learning from him right now!” You smiled, full of enthusiasm, feeling Jake’s hand dropping down from your wrist.

“In fact, I’ve never seen anyone play football so perfectly while also being so brilliantly academically smart, I firmly believe his grades will shock you this time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s time for our tutoring session.”

You passed her a small smile, the shock clear on her face, before grabbing Jake’s hand and taking him along with you—to his room. You didn’t look back, simply closing the door as you breathed out with a pissed expression.

Jake’s heart was beating fast, he wasn’t sure if he had words to speak at this moment, so staring at you was all he could do.

You spoke for him.

You defended him.

No one’s ever done that, no one cared enough to understand, moreover, it didn’t help how you looked angrier than him at the situation.

“W—Why?” Jake couldn’t keep his voice in check, “you didn’t have to—say all that.”

That’s when you turned around, facing him. All your anger disappeared once you focused on his face, so vulnerable, so confused, so desperate to know your answer.

“Jake,” the gentleness in your voice only made him gulp and look down at the floor, “I hope you don’t believe a word she says, because that’s not true,” you spoke, inching closer.

You were not one who was good at making people feel better, Jake of all people at that, however, this gave you an insight of why Jake is the way he is—closed off, hence the lack of words from your side, but you knew you had to say it.

That’s the thing, we judge people too quickly, you always had snarky remarks for him, not knowing how deep they cut him. He looked shaken right now, traumatized, especially because you experienced a part of his life which he never wanted to share with anybody.

“Jake, you’re doing so well, you know that right?” You whispered, as genuine as possible, your fingers grabbing his own, which made him look up at you finally.

He was shaken, not from his mother’s words—he was used to them—but from yours.

“No one’s ever said that,” he spoke so silently, you almost missed it. You held his hand tight—being almost angrier than him while answering his mom back—he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over that.

Jake didn’t realize his eyes were glistening.

“What?” You breathed out.

He gulped yet again, jaw clenched now as he struggled to get his words out, the floor being the most interesting thing to him, “defended me. No one’s done that.”

“I—is that why you hate Jaehyun? Because people only see him?” You asked, wincing at the question when you saw him stiffen again, a sharp pang in your chest once he brushed your hand off of his.

“Don’t. Don’t fucking go there.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Oh I fucking know what you mean. Everyone sees him fuck—you see him, because he’s perfect, right? That’s what he is, perfect,” he seethed out, “you don’t know what it’s like—to live in someone’s shadow,” there was a flash of pain in his eyes.

You stayed mum, letting him speak.

“Every place, every room, every fucking person just sees him,” he muttered, “I need to be better, but it’s never enough, because he already did it—Jaehyun did it better. You look at him the same way as others do, and me? The afterthought—the failure.”

Your heart broke a little, guilt settling in because unknowingly, you fueled the same anger and trauma for him.

“Jake,” you mumbled, “you’re not a failure.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to,” you spoke, and he looked up, “and thank god you’re not Jaehyun,” you chuckled, fingers ghosting near his jaw, your touch featherlight, making him suck in a deep breath.

“Why?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes hopeful, which scared him.

“Because you’re real, you don’t fake your emotions. You don’t smile at somebody who you don’t care about, you get angry, messy, you let yourself be shown how you are,” you lip twitched slightly as you said so, your own heartbeat rose at the sentences you so easily uttered, “that’s what makes you a human, Jake, a human who’s trying his best, which is what matters.”

He blinked.

He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t, simply leaning into your touch with his eyes closed.

“You’re you, the stupid jock who’s not scared of anything, yeah?” You tried to make him smile, which helped as you saw his lips curving up.

Midway through your sentences, you genuinely questioned yourself about why you even like Jaehyun, it was honestly just your mind playing games with you.

“You scare me,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“Because you say things so convincingly, it makes me wanna believe you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Just—don’t say it when you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” you said in a breath, his eyes on yours now, more intense than ever, “I mean every word.”

He stared a little longer, staring at you unamused as if you’d laugh in his face right this second. You didn’t.

“You’re serious,” he said, voice hoarse.

You nodded softly.

Jake took a single step forward, the air around you so tight, it felt like a rubber band stretched to its max, on the verge of snapping back.

You inhaled sharply once Jake’s cold hand brushed the hair on your shoulder, grazing against your bare skin, moving up your nape.

“Do you have any idea what you just said to me?” He murmured, eyes locked on yours, turning you around easily to pin you against the wall—something he liked to do, apparently.

“Tell me,” you mumbled.

If someone told you two days back that you’d be in Jake’s room, calming him down before getting into a compromising position with him, you would have laughed in their faces. It was reality for you now, something that made you feel so unconventionally flustered.

The way he brushed his thumb along your jaw, slow and deliberate, made you shiver, “you’re making me forget that i’m supposed to hate this—feeling anything.”

You were hanging on the last bit of your sanity, drowning in Jake’s scent, his nose brushing against your cheek, hand gripping your waist, heat radiating off of your body.

“Jake—”

“Say it again,” he whispered.

“Say what?” You breathed.

“That you’re glad I’m not him.”

You chuckled under his hold, your voice still shaking, “I’m so glad—so fucking glad you’re not him.”

His breath sounded like a curse, lips hovering a breath above yours, you could feel his hesitation against your skin. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch someone as perfect as you, yet you didn’t stop him, the space in between you was so tight, it might as well elicit electricity.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, only leaning into his touch, resting your hand over the top of his on your jaw. The touch was faint, yet you could feel it everywhere.

You held your breath as he leaned in—

Knock.

Jake swore under his breath as you flinched, it physically hurt him to step back.

“Jake?” Of course, it was Jaehyun who had to interrupt you two.

Your hands trembled as Jake moved to the door, and you quickly turned towards the desk, rushing to sit down, pretending that nothing had happened—that you didn’t almost kiss Jake a few seconds back.

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes furious with a hint of daze in them. “Yeah?” His voice came out strained as he asked Jaehyun through the door.

“Mom wants to talk to you,” He said.

“Be right down,” he answered, shaking his head, staring at your way one last time, holding eye contact for a second, letting you see just how much he hated this situation, veins popping in his neck.

Then he opened the door, closing it behind him and disappearing from your eyesight.

You stayed there, overwhelmed, lips tingling, pulse racing.

A truth burned your skin in an excruciating pain.

If he had kissed you, you wouldn’t have stopped him.

Chapter 6: I can go from A to Z, but U is what I want.

Jake hadn’t texted you all night.

Not that you waited, except, you did.

He never came back to the room after Jaehyun called him out, you waited, till you couldn’t anymore and had to rush out before your mind drove you to the edge of insanity.

So you grabbed your bag, rushing to the first place you thought of—the courtyard behind the Science block. It was calm, no student in sight, thankfully.

Your five minutes of calm ended a second too quickly, a voice calling out your name in its full glory. You cursed the universe for treating you like this and you didn’t have to turn around to figure out who it was.

Heeseung.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t peg you to fall for the broken type.” He stepped out smiling as insane as a villain who hasn’t moved on does.

“Still stalking me?” You rolled your eyes, “get a fucking job.”

“I call it being invested,” he smirked, shoving hands in his pockets, “it’s honestly a downgrade, going from me to Jake.”

“Not again,” you muttered, grabbing your book which you had just taken out.

“I mean, trading me for Jake?” Voice full of pity.

“As if you were an option, Heeseung,” you turned sharply.

That shut him up for half a second.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, voice colder now. “He’s always angry, I was angry, I made you feel something, can he say the same?”

Your head was hurting by now, as you mumbled yet another shut up, only to be stopped by Heeseung as he grabbed your arm.

“What? He’s the angry, tortured type. You’re into hopeless projects now?”

“I’m into honesty,” you snapped, “something you don’t offer.”

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Self awareness maybe,” a voice came from behind you, low, cold, almost lethal.

Jake was here.

“Let go of her,” he said, dead-eyed, he was ready to snap.

And Heeseung did, a scoff leaving his mouth before he smirked, “great, speak of the devil.”

Jake raised his brow, “you done?”

Heeseung chuckled, “not even close.”

You sighed, “of course not,” this day couldn’t get worse.

“You really think this is love or whatever?” He said, looking at Jake but his words were directed to you instead, “he’s gonna burn you someday, and you’re gonna let him.”

Oh god, you were not having any of this, why was this conversation even happening? It made absolutely no sense.

Jake moved faster this time, but you blocked his chest with your arms, “enough,” you said sharply.

“Ask him to leave.” Jake said, voice low.

“Heeseung, just leave,” you said, turning to him.

But he didn’t, and so Jake did, shoving past you as you rolled your eyes, Heeseung’s sinister smile only widening, getting so close to him, he had to lean back slightly.

“Don’t test me, and don’t come near her again, or else I won’t be this patient.” Jake spoke.

“Aw? You’re gonna hit me in front of her, Jake?”

“I don’t need to, she already cut you deeper than I ever could.”

Heeseung stilled once, clenching his jaw, before turning to you, maintaining eye contact, “she’s not your girl, Jake.”

“You don’t know that,” he gritted his teeth.

“You’ll come back,” Heeseung’s jaw ticked as he said so.

“Hold your breath until I do,” you replied.

That was it, he left. It wasn’t silent, nor dramatic, but with enough tension to let you know that he will be coming back.

Once he was gone, you shoved Jake, hard.

“The fuck was that?”

“What? I came here trying to find you, only to witness you talking to him.”

“I didn’t want it to happen either, but the world hates me,” you mumbled, grabbing your bag and walking away with Jake following you behind.

“I fucking hate that he still gets to talk to you, why does he have access to you?” His voice rose and you prayed no one would hear him, thankfully this area was empty.

“He doesn’t, and why do you even care?” You asked, with distress clear on your face, “pretending like I mean something to you in front of Heeseung is just as worse, Jake.”

“I—”

“No, you won’t even talk about last night, as if it didn’t happen,” you snapped and he froze, “you didn’t even come back to your room.”

His silence was your answer, and you knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go any further, Jake couldn’t do that—he was scared of opening up, and he was scared of answering those questions, so even though you were hurting on the inside, you let him be.

“Tomorrow, library, at five. Be on time.” You mumbled, leaving him behind you.

“Fuck—fuck!” Jake punched the wall next to him. He didn’t want you to go—the first person who ever tried to understand him, took his side, defended him. He was beyond scared of letting his guard down, so he groaned, sliding down the wall.

“How do I even tell you I want you?”

Chapter 7: I know that I’m hard to read, but you got me here to stay.

The library was too quiet for how loud your mind was. The sound of your pen dragging across the paper felt almost intrusive as you tried to finish your assignment.

It had been three nights since the library fiasco.

Two nights since the almost kiss.

One night since the blow up with Heeseung.

You almost didn’t wish to come here, yet here you were, with the sample test papers ready, clad in your little black skirt, a cardigan too loose for you, waiting for Jake to show up—hoping he would.

The clock ticked. He was a solid nineteen minutes late now, another minute and you’ll get up to leave. That’s when you heard the lazy footsteps approaching your side, the farthest corner of the library. You expected him to sit in front of you, yet he opted to sit right next to you, so close you could feel the fabric of his jeans brushing against your thigh. He took a seat without permission, like he had the right to be, like nothing had happened.

He came in like guilt personified, shoulders hunched, hoodie loose, hair an unbrushed mess of indecision. And when he saw you?

He hesitated.

You didn’t look up, simply sliding him the sheet of questions to solve, the air around you turned weighted. His pen scratched, your leg bounced, you sipped water and he watched the corner of your mouth, practically burning holes into you.

It was unbearable.

This tension—it’s not a war but there’s rarely ever any peace. Catherine and Heathcliff reincarnated, except you weren’t on a moor, you were in a library, trying not to fall apart across the wooden study table.

Just yesterday, he burned through Heeseung like jealousy was oxygen.

He couldn’t stop staring, yet he solved the questions for forty minutes, sliding the sheet back to you for checking, expecting some sort of conversation now, anything, even a little hum of acknowledgement from your side, but none of it happened.

He watched you scribble your pen over the margin, circling a few things, ticking the others, lip bitten in concentration. He observed you so intensely, how your eyes flicked across his answer sheet, but you didn’t look his way, not even once.

“You won’t even talk to me now?” He asked, keeping his voice in check.

“Four answers wrong, you did pretty well, can do better still,” you mumbled, passing him the paper.

“Y/N,” he sighed, tired, he was afraid of this happening—letting you down, and that’s exactly what he did. Running away from his problems was what Jake always did, he wasn’t perfect, he knows it, but he wants to try and be better, better for you.

“You came late,” you said, still not looking up.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he exhaled, jaw clenched as if trying to control his words.

“Not my problem,” you retorted.

“I was thinking.”

“You should study instead.”

“You hate me now, huh?” Jake leaned forward, voice flat.

You blinked. The question hit out of nowhere.

“I don’t hate you,” you replied carefully. “But I don’t know how to deal with you either.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, Jake. It’s the truth. And that’s more than you’ve been giving me.”

He looked at you then, really looked—eyes narrowed, like he was keeping a war behind them, trying his best not to show his emotions. His eyes were empty, yet so full of you, you being the only person he wanted to see.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know how to be—good at this, with you, I’ve never done this before.”

“And yet you’re good at disappearing. You’re good at leaving me hanging like none of it mattered, Jake. Even a text would have made it better, just one text.”

You weren’t yelling. You didn’t need to. Your disappointment was louder than any raised voice.

Jake sat back in his chair, breathing shallow. “You kissed me back.”

Your throat tightened, “you didn’t kiss me at all.”

“Exactly,” he muttered. “Because I would’ve ruined it. Ruined you.”

You shook your head slowly. “No, Jake. You didn’t kiss me because you’re scared of how much you actually want to.”

His fingers were now balled into fists. “And you’re not?”

“We’re not talking about me.” You looked away.

He scoffed, turning to look at you fully, leaning in with his hand now resting on your thigh, burning the skin with his touch.

“You want honesty, huh? So here it is—I’ve been thinking about you, about everything that’s happened in the past few days, no one’s ever messed with my mind so much and it fucking scares me. You’re messing me up—”

You couldn’t hear more, not when he was so close, not when he poured his heart out to you. Nothing about you two was normal, even your heartbeat was synced with how abnormally high they were.

“Shh,” you mumbled, covering his mouth with your palm, and even the rude gesture calmed him down—your touch calmed him down.

“You have an exam tomorrow.” You said and he stared, “study, pass the exam, and we’ll talk, yeah?”

He blinked, almost as if you showed him mercy, and gave him a chance to do something, to prove that he’s worthy of being near you. His scholarship, football, future—everything was at stake, but did he care? No. He cared about not letting you down. He wanted to prove himself to you.

“You—you promise?” He asked, gripping the extra sheets and notes you passed his way.

You nodded, eyes softer now. You didn’t wanna hurt Jake, you could see just how hard he tried to fight with his demons, but this time, you wanted him to win.

“I’ll be waiting.”

You turned to leave then, leaving Jake with his thoughts as he watched you leave, eyes on your legs. He gulped, looking back to the paper to find a line scribbled in your handwriting.

You already know the answer, you’re just afraid of getting it wrong.

It wasn’t about the question, it was about him.

He just wanted to be worthy enough to stand in front of you and say I didn’t fuck this up this time. So he started, he worked all night, solved as many sample problems as he could, everything felt like a punch in the gut but he couldn’t give up, not this time.

Jake couldn’t sleep at night,

I’ll be waiting.

That’s what you told him, and he was looking forward to it, because for the very first time in his life, someone wasn’t waiting for him to fail.

He woke up before his alarm had the chance to ring, didn’t care about his mother’s remark on how he woke up on time for once, or how Jaehyun gave him a long, unreadable look. Jake didn’t react, he had bigger problems to tackle today.

You were just as restless as him if not more, checking your phone every few minutes as if you’d get any text from Jake. He must be busy studying, you hope that was the case.

He walked into the exam hall calm, focused, terrified. He didn’t skip questions. He didn’t zone out.

He solved the final problem two minutes before time and rechecked every line like his life was hidden in the margins.

When he walked out of that room, his shirt clinging to the back of his neck from sweat, his palms aching from gripping the pen too hard—he knew. He’d done it. Or at least, he hoped he did.

Yet, he didn’t text you, he wouldn’t until he got the results.

Chapter 8: Jealousy is but a red thread around my throat.

You waited, not loud, but silently.

Two whole days, you held your breath, even planned on visiting the football practice to just get a glimpse of Jake, yet you couldn’t muster enough courage to do so. God, you were so affected by everything he did, and this felt so very suffocating, waiting on someone. You knew what you felt, there was no point in denying it, however, you couldn’t figure out how it happened, so quickly at that.

Heck, even Jaemin was more present in your chat inbox, even though you never replied to him, it just made you wonder if your time with Jake was just a hoax.

Did you imagine it all?

On the other hand, on the other side of the city, sitting in a dim room with sunlight pouring in, Jake was drowning in darkness.

The exam portal was open in front of him, he refreshed the page every two seconds, not being able to sit still. His hands were shaking, not from fear but from want. From the feeling of your voice telling him that you’ll talk to him once he proves himself.

He gave up the wait, the result wasn’t out the whole day. It was three in the morning when the notification woke him up like a jolt.

Results were out.

He rushed to check it, the numbers stunning him as his jaw hung open.

83%

Not perfect. But more than enough.

Enough to pass. Enough to stay on the team.

Enough to say, Look. I did it. I’m not a fuck-up. The first thing he thought of was you. So he typed—just two words.

Jake: I passed.

Because he didn’t know how to say what he really wanted to—I passed, and all I could think about was your voice. I passed, and I still don’t feel whole unless you tell me you’re proud. I passed, and it’s not enough if I can’t show you.

Your reply came back six minutes later.

You: I knew you would.

It was soft, gentle. But was it enough for Jake? No. It should’ve been enough, but it wasn’t.

He didn’t reply, he didn’t text you again. He opted to skip the lectures for the day and stay in his room, blinds closed, only darkness consuming him.

You knew it was hard for Jake, you knew you shouldn’t wait for his reply or him approaching you—he was too scared to do that, which is exactly why you grabbed your bag and went to his place the first thing in the morning. Maybe Jake needed time, but you had to check.

You rang the bell, your heart pounding as you did so, expecting Jake to open up and see you. Once the door opened, your pulse stuttered.

Jaehyun.

Of course, it had to be him.

“Y/N,” he said your name smoothly, “didn’t know you were coming by.”

You hesitated with a small chuckle, exhaling the breath you were holding, “is Jake home?”

He nodded, stepping aside to let you in, “yeah, he’s in his room, didn’t come out this morning at all.”

“Oh,” you said softly, wondering if he was alright.

There was a pause, an awkward silence after that, you felt heavy, wanting to go upstairs but you weren’t sure if you were allowed to.

Jaehyun closed the door behind you. “He’s been off since the results,” he said, voice low. “I thought passing would help, but I don’t know. He kind of shut down again after telling us he passed.”

You gulped, chest tightened at the revelation.

“I came to check up on him, I’m not sure if he wants to meet though.”

“He’d want to see you.” Jaehyun said, smiling sincerely, “you’re good for him.”

Your eyes widened at that, “I’m not sure he thinks that.” You tried to smile, “can I go to his room?”

“He locked the door, I think he’s sleeping,” Jaehyun said apologetically.

“I don’t wanna bother him.” You smiled sadly, “those are good pictures,” you mumbled, looking at the wall full of frames, particularly the ones with Jake in them.

“Yeah, I took most of those,” Jaehyun replied with another smile, he knew you wanted to talk to Jake so he suggested something, “Maybe if you take him something to eat? I can give the breakfast he skipped—”

“Oh no, I can run to the bakery and get something—”

Then you noticed a movement in your peripheral vision, you turned around to find Jake. He was standing down the hall, his fluffy hair a mess, eyes wide as if he didn’t expect you to be here—especially with Jaehyun.

“Hey,” you breathed out.

No reply.

“Y—you didn’t reply, I came to see you,” you tried speaking again.

However, his expression didn’t change and suddenly, you felt like you shouldn’t have come here at all. He was frozen even when you said you wanted to make sure he was okay. Then he came back to his senses, clearing his throat.

Jaehyun left the room, letting you two be alone.

“Why didn’t you ask for me?” He whispered, just sadness in his voice.

“I did, that’s what I came for,” you tried to explain.

Jake stared at you, he was so broken inside he couldn’t let himself believe it. You dressed up, all pretty, your eyes so soft, your lips turning into a pout of disappointment. You looked perfect, and you came here for Jake? He just could not believe it.

“You were talking to him,” Jake said, referring to Jaehyun, his voice broken.

“He opened the door, what can I do?” You shook your head, trying to explain, “you didn’t even text back, Jake.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he replied, “I’ve never done this before, I’ve never had someone wait for me and mean it.”

Your lips parted to reply but he wasn’t done.

“You said you’d talk to me after the exam,” he went on, voice sharper now, “but when you showed up, you let him open the door. You let him tell you how I was.”

“I didn’t—” your voice faltered, “I didn’t come for him.”

“Didn’t look that way.”

That hurt. You flinched. “Jake, why are you doing this?”

“Because I waited for you,” he snapped. “I sat in that room like a fucking idiot thinking you’d come to see me. Not make small talk with my brother or compliment his photography.”

“You heard that?” You froze, it wasn’t your intention to do any of that.

“I heard everything, every second you spent without taking my name,” he said.

Just like that—he hurt you. Every conversation was about Jake, every single one. He just couldn’t see it.

“I thought I was getting better,” he admitted, quieter now. “I thought passing the exam would mean something. That it would be enough.”

“It was,” you whispered. “Jake, it is. I am proud of you.”

“Then why didn’t it feel like it?” His voice broke on that line. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a step away, then back, like his own body was a prison.

You stood frozen. Every word hit somewhere different.

“I wanted you to come,” he said, softer now. “Not to check in. Not to ask if I’d eaten. I wanted you to come for me. Just for me. You don’t get it, Y/N.”

“No,” you stepped forward. “You don’t get it. You think everything is about being chosen or abandoned. But not everyone’s trying to leave you, Jake. Sometimes people show up. But you keep slamming the door in their face.”

He turned away. “Then go.”

“I came for you.” You said one last time, your eyes watering, not being able to contain the hurt you held in them.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have.”

That one landed like a punch.

Your mouth opened. Then closed. You nodded. Just once.

“Fine.”

You turned.

And you left.

And this time, he didn’t stop you.

Chapter 9: I know that I’m hard to read, but you got me here to stay

You spent most of your morning crying alone in your student council room, but it just wasn’t enough, not when you were being wronged every second of the day, not when the person you wanted kept running away from you no matter how hard you tried. At least you did.

You couldn’t run away though, you had an important meeting with your council at six in the evening, by that time, you had done everything to make yourself look normal again, but your mind was entirely elsewhere, in another realm, a realm where things were different.

Jake, on the other hand, left his room as soon as he realized how wrong everything had gone. All afternoon his own words replayed in his mind, how he asked you to leave and how you left a single tear drop on the floor before you turned around and left.

Maybe you shouldn’t have.

It felt like biting into something rotten, saying that out loud to you. Like watching the one and the only thing he wanted turn and walk away. You didn’t yell back, you didn’t beg, you went still, and left. He saw you leave—he made you leave.

And he let you go anyway. Because that’s what he did. Because pushing people away was easier than asking them to stay.

Until now.

Now he was pacing in his room like a caged animal, hoodie still damp, heart in his throat. He kept hearing your voice in the hallway. Kept seeing your face. Kept remembering the way you reached for him and he didn’t reach back.

His chest felt tight, his limbs tense. He couldn’t stay here, not in this house, not knowing you might never come back.

He had to find you.

So he ran. He ran to the courtyard, not caring about the rain pour, soaking him up from head to toe. You weren’t in the library, not in the council room, the classrooms were empty. He was panicking.

That’s when he heard a voice, turning around the corner of the athletic department, he walked straight into one of his football teammates he couldn’t stand at all—Minjae, a loud-mouthed asshole, smiling like a madman.

“Fucking hell, Lee Jake, you look like shit.” He grinned.

Jake didn’t answer, he was in a hurry, he had to find you, to make things right with you, he was about to push past Minjae when—

“Oh, by the way,” he smirked, “Heeseung told us a lot about how you finally landed his ex, the pretty goody two shoes, Y/N.”

Jake froze, jaw clenched at the mention of you and Heeseung in the same sentence, coming from an asshole at that.

“Didn’t think you’d have a go at someone like her. She seems to like guys who have more brains than biceps.” He laughed at his own joke.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Minjae laughed. “Chill, man. I’m just saying—props to you, seriously. Girl like that? All polished and pretty and loyal? I mean, not that it’ll last. Girls like that don’t stay with guys like us. She’ll figure it out eventually.”

Jake’s vision turned black.

“Say that again,” he said, voice like static.

Minjae raised his hands. “Relax. You don’t need to get all—”

The punch landed before he could finish.

Minjae hit the ground hard, water splashing up from the impact, the rain pouring down heavier now. He tried to shove Jake back, but to no avail as he bent down, his fist colliding with Minjae’s jaw again.

Jake wasn’t fighting Minjae per se, he was fighting every single voice that told him he wasn’t enough, that he could never live up to his brother, that he could never be with someone as perfect as you. That’s what he believed too, till you actually became real for him.

His mind was elsewhere when he took a blow to his jaw, lip bleeding now, Jake stumbled but scoffed before punching him again, and again, till his knuckles were shredded, a throbbing in his jaw which almost felt like fire.

It was only when someone pulled him off of Minjae, Jake stopped, spitting out blood in the rain slick grass. Everything hurt, but not as much as his burning chest.

“Are you insane?” Someone yelled his way, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jake didn’t bother answering, pulling out his phone and rushing away, typing out texts to you.

Jake: where are you? please say something i’m so fucking sorry Y/N i didn’t mean it i didn’t mean any of it i swear Y/N please

No response. His messages were just there, unread, and unanswered. He simply didn’t know why.

He didn’t know how you had been in the private meeting room for the past hour, student council prep being a whole scheduling disaster, handling arguments about clubs and their out-of-the-worldly budget demands.

You were half awake at best, distracted by the storm that brewed outside. Your phone vibrates once, then again, and when you finally pull it out to check the numerous missed calls—your screen goes dark. Perfect, just on the day you didn’t bring your charger or powerbank.

The feeling in your gut—it wasn’t good, which is why you excused yourself mid meeting, something you never do, to rush back home. You were soaked as you ran to your apartment, close to the University, thankfully. You plugged your phone in to charge as you rushed to take a shower, hoping the hot water would soothe your nerves. It didn’t.

You kept thinking about Jake, about the fight at his place earlier, how he asked you to leave with the saddest look in his eyes, and how badly it hurt you. You were out of the shower in fifteen minutes, toweling your hair with one hand and rushing to check your phone with the other, not expecting a myriad of notifications.

17 Missed calls.

6 Voicemails.

26 Unread texts.

The last of which made your blood run cold.

Jake: Y/N please i’m outside

You rushed to the front door, and he was there—leaning against the wall beside your entrance, hoodie clinging to him, hair wet and plastered to his forehead, eyes closed and him wincing like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Like it hurts too much to exist. Hands bruised, lip split, and he opened his eyes—bloodshot, glassy.

“Jake,” you gasped out loud, “w—what happened?” You said, going close to him.

“I tried to find you,” he said, voice wrecked, “I tried but I couldn’t, I thought that maybe you blocked me.”

“No—I was in a meeting and my phone died, god I’m so sorry—fuck, come inside.” You shook your head in distress.

“Y/N,” he groaned, and you gently helped him when he didn’t move, like he wasn’t allowed to, “I fucked up.”

“Shh, come inside, it’s cold,” you whispered and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. You tried to be calm, you tried to take control of the situation for once and he listened, this time he did when you took him to your room.

You didn’t ask how this happened to him, only guiding him to the bathroom, “you’re soaked and bleeding, take a shower, i’ll put your clothes in the wash and dryer.”

He opened his mouth to say otherwise, but you didn’t let him, grabbing a fresh towel and handing it to him.

“Are you sure you want me here?” He asked, vulnerable.

“I wouldn’t have opened the door otherwise, Jake, I do.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he disappeared into the bathroom without another word and you worked your washing machine and dryer, sitting down right after, exhaling and letting your guard down, hands shaking with worry.

You were glad Jake was taking his sweet time inside, because you had no clue how to go on with this situation. Jake stalling coming out simply because he was ashamed, also consumed in how good your shampoo smells. He was at your place, in your bathroom, all bloodied up, why? Because he couldn’t be normal for once and let you in.

His walls came crashing down each time you came closer to him, but this time, he didn’t want them to go back up the second he touched you, this time, he wanted you inside with him.

His clothes were dry very soon and you kept them in your room, waiting outside by the sofa, letting him come out all dressed up. The water stopped soon, the door creaking as he came out, and you were sitting on the sofa, hair still wet.

Then Jake opened the door, you stood up at the noise, and he looked your way in a silent plea to ask you if he could sit next to you, and you nodded. He held up the bloodied towel, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and you smiled softly, taking it away from him.

The silence was too loud after as you both sat next to each other, you waited for him to say something, waited for the reality of tonight to settle in—to make sense, to stop trembling beneath your skin. And then he spoke as you took out your medicine kit, gently grabbing his hand to take a look at his bruised knuckles.

“Y/N,” he took your name as if it was the only thing he knew.

He watched you kneel in front of him, your eyes not angry, just steady, quiet, and unbearably kind. His fingers trembled in yours, you gently pulled the sleeve back, pressing a warm damp cloth to the wounds, making him wince slightly at the contact.

“Sorry,” you breathed out.

“I deserve worse,” he breathed back.

“No, you don’t,” you said, looking up at him.

He laughed under his breath, “why are you so kind to me? I don’t deserve it, Y/N.”

“You don’t get to decide what I give you, Jake,” you replied, “you’re bleeding, again.”

“Not my first time.”

You gripped him tighter, “and that’s supposed to make it better?”

“No,” he said, voice low, “just means I’m good at it by now.”

You didn’t answer. Just ripped the antiseptic packet open a little more forcefully than necessary and pressed it to the bruised line of his knuckles. He flinched.

“Good,” you muttered. “Means you still feel something.”

“God, Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped, trying your best to act normal but you both were far from that, “not yet.”

You cleaned the split in his skin with the kind of precision that only comes from anger—controlled, careful, but deeply furious.

“You don’t get to act like none of this mattered,” you said, eyes locked on his wounds. “You don’t get to disappear into your guilt and then show up bleeding and say I didn’t know where else to go. That’s not enough.”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t come for a reward.”

“Good,” you said coldly. “Because you’re not getting one.” You wrapped gauze around his hand slowly, tight enough that it would sting.

He didn’t pull away.

“I came because I thought I’d lose you,” he said through his teeth, “I came because I’m fucking terrified that I already did.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You said, standing up, “you keep doing this thing, you pull me in, let me see you and then the very second it gets real, you shut the door in my face.”

“I know,” he said. Loud. Frustrated. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see the way you look at me when I say the wrong thing? Like you’re trying so fucking hard not to walk away?”

“You told me to go!”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“Then don’t say it!” You shouted, “don’t look at me like I’m everything one second and then act like I mean nothing the next!”

“I didn’t think you’d stay.”

“I stayed!”

You were both breathing hard now. Staring at each other like you didn’t know whether to cry or kiss or throw something, You still stood in between Jake’s legs, him looking up at you. Jake ran a hand through his damp hair, pacing a few feet before turning back to you, eyes wide and glassy.

“I ruin things,” he said, “I always have. I don’t know how to love something without fucking it up. But I wanted you anyway—I still do.”

Your throat tightened. “And I’m supposed to what? Carry all of that? Be your exception?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I just need you to see that I’m trying. Even if it’s ugly. Even if I’m bleeding and loud and afraid. I need you to see me, and stay anyway.”

You stared at him.

He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Someone who’d gone through hell and walked straight into another fire because you were at the center of it.

Your voice cracked, “you don’t make it easy.”

“I know.”

You looked down at your hands—his blood still faintly on your fingertips. He reached out slowly. You didn’t move. Not when his fingers curled around your wrist. Not when he pulled you in his lap, not when his forehead leaned into yours like he was holding on for dear life.

“I hate that I hurt you,” he whispered. “But I’d rather burn with you than freeze without you.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave, Jake.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m sick,” he said suddenly. “Sick of being the one who’s always too much. Too angry. Too wrong. I get one thing right—one fucking exam—and even then I screw it up by throwing a punch at someone who talks shit about you and then picking a fight with the only person who’s ever actually looked at me like I could be more.”

Your breath hitched. You grabbed the gauze, wrapped it around his hand. Tighter than needed.

“Then be more, Jake.”

He stared at you.

“Be more,” you repeated, “because I’m tired of being in love with someone who’s so determined to hate himself.”

That silenced him. Fully. Until he spoke again.

“You’re in love with me?”

The words dropped like a bomb between you.

You froze. Swallowed. Refused to take it back, chuckling to yourself at how easily you let go and told him that, “yeah—god help me, I am.”

Then you tried to move back, only his arms wrapped around your waist tighter, holding you in place, “you don’t get to say that and walk away.” He growled.

“Who said I’m walking away?” You mumbled, holding onto his shoulder for support.

It was unreal, how close you guys were but still not close enough, it was never enough.

“You’re mad at me,” Jake stated.

“I should be mad.”

“I’m mad too,” he added.

“Good,” you rolled your eyes, trying to move again.

But he didn’t let you, not this time, his thumb brushing your cheek.

That was it. That was when Jake finally let go. He couldn’t delay this anymore, not again, not when you were right in front of him, not when your soft lips brushed so tenderly against his bruised ones, not when you told him you were in love with him—not when he knew he had to have you.

He surged up and into you—hands gripping your face, mouth pressing against yours like it was the only way to breathe. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t neat, it was everything you’d been holding back.

Lips slotted together, you could taste blood on your tongue from where he was hurt before, which only made you groan into the kiss, he was frustrated, so frustrated, not having it in him to let go for even a second.

You gasped, arms flying up to clutch at his shoulders, pressed chest-to-chest, his body was warm—too warm—and you could feel his tension in every line.

You broke the kiss first, panting, eyes wide. “You shouldn’t—” you tried to say, especially when his body was hurting.

“I have to,” he breathed, leaning in again. “Let me, just once. Please.”

You didn’t stop him, grabbing his nape and pulling him into you once again, because when Jake kissed you again, it felt like pain, penance, and pleasure all in one. It was as if he was trying to earn your forgiveness with his mouth, trying to pour out everything he couldn’t say to you, groaning into your mouth when your hips shifted over his lap.

“I fucking—” He said midway the kiss, “god I—”

You shushed him gently, “you don’t have to say it.”

“I love you,” he breathed out, forehead pressed against yours, eyes earnest and full of life for the first time since you saw him, “I don’t care if it’s too early, I can’t fucking not say it, I love you, I—”

Before he could ruin the moment with the spiral in his throat, before he could pull back in fear, you pressed your lips against his like it was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

He responded like he’d been starving. Mouth hot, desperate, hands gripping your waist like the world was falling apart and he only had seconds left to memorize you. The kiss was brutal in the way it made you feel, there was no choreography to it, no elegance—just lips, teeth, breath, and aching hunger.

His mouth was swollen. Your lips, bruised from how much he kissed you like he didn’t know how to stop.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed.

You stared at him. “I don’t want you to.”

Then you grabbed his jaw once you heard him wince, “does it hurt?” You asked, pecking his jaw, trailing kisses all over.

“It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, letting your lips take over, tracing every bit of his face and neck, his eyes closing with the fire that you ignited within him.

“This feels like a dream,” he whispered.

“It’s not.”

“But it could be,” he added, almost to himself. “You—like this, in my lap, in your apartment, touching me like I’m not a monster.”

You cupped his face again, guiding his eyes to yours, “you’re not a monster, Jake.”

“You don’t know the things I’ve thought.”

“Then tell me.”

His voice cracked, “I thought I’d die if I didn’t see you again. I thought that maybe I’m already ruined and maybe I don’t deserve you but I can’t stop loving you anyway. I thought—”

You kissed him again. Slow this time. Deep and aching, “then stop thinking,” you whispered, “just be here—with me.”

His fingers trembled as they curled into the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?”

You nodded.

He pulled the fabric up carefully, reverently, and you helped him, raising your arms until it was off. His breath hitched. Not because of how you looked—but because he was looking at you like that.

Like something sacred.

You grabbed the back of his hoodie, tugging. He hesitated for a split second before pulling it over his head. The sight made your breath catch.

His torso was littered with bruises, some dark purple, some already fading yellow. His ribcage dipped where the muscle was taut with tension. You reached out, fingertips grazing over a particularly harsh mark near his side.

He flinched. “That one’s from earlier.”

Your jaw clenched, “you shouldn’t fight because of me.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, “I was fighting every voice in my head that said I wasn’t worth your love.”

You kissed the bruise.

He gasped.

“I hate that they ever made you feel like that.”

His hands slid back up to your sides, lips brushing your jaw. “You make it go quiet.”

“I want to,” you whispered.

Your kisses grew slow again, heavier with emotion than desire. You could feel his heartbeat where your chest pressed into his, your hands in his hair, his head tilted just enough to deepen the kiss. You rolled your hips slightly in his lap, and he groaned again, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, Y/N—”

“Jake,” you murmured, your nails dragging softly along his back, “look at me.”

He lifted his head. His eyes—wild, glassy, full of everything he couldn’t say.

“I love you,” you said again. “I’m not afraid of it. So don’t be either.”

He leaned forward, pressing your foreheads together.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, did I ever tell you that?” He mumbled against the skin of your neck, brushing his lips all over before placing open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your clavicle, “so fucking pretty.”

Jake wasn’t gentle anymore, not when he’d been craving your presence, craving you. He couldn’t help but treat you like a reward, like he finally had won the only thing in life that actually mattered to him.

He was quick to grab your waist and flip you over, getting on top of you on the couch that was too small for things he had planned in his mind. It was almost like a dam breaking the way his mouth was on your neck, biting, sucking, claiming you.

“Jake—” you mumbled, your back arching as you felt his body pressing into you, fingers wrapped around his wet locks as he marked your skin with every ounce of desperation he had, his fingers mapping out every inch of your body as if he’s afraid he’d forget it—as if he could ever forget anything about you.

The warmth of his hands brushed over your bra clad nipples, a whimper leaving your mouth. Jake wasn’t undressed yet you could feel him getting hard, and god you wondered just how big he was, grinding into you as if he was already inside your cunt.

“I hurt you so fucking much,” Jake mumbled, lips ghosting over your tit, “now I’ll hurt you in the way you want me to,” he said with dark eyes, yanking your bra down enough for your nipples to show, latching his mouth to you all in light speed.

All his life Jake couldn’t take control of anything, but seeing you shiver under him just made sense to Jake, he had to take control—he had to make you feel so good, you wouldn’t ever look at anyone else.

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered, already disheveled with how needy you were, wetness pooling in your panties, soiling the new pair you had put on not too long ago.

“Yeah? You drive me crazy, baby,” he chuckled, and that sound went straight to your pussy. Jake was hot, so fucking hot, but him using nicknames on you with his deep tone—only god knows how you would survive this.

You bit your lip to conceal your moans, which only infuriated Jake, biting your nipple harshly to make sure you scream, “don’t fucking hide your pretty voice,” he said.

His hands went to your other breast and he gave it a tight squeeze, your eyes were on him as you watched his lips parting, letting his tongue make contact with the tip of your very hardened nub. He bites down on your nipple, making you cry out, but quickly soothes it with his tongue before switching to the other side, he wants to drive you wild with pleasure, to possess every inch of your body.

Lost in the haze of pleasure, you surrender yourself completely to Jake’s possessive touches, letting him have his way with you. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and his desperate sucking, a symphony of carnal desire. In this moment, there is nothing but you and Jake, and the burning hunger that consumes you both.

Jake’s hands roam across your body, his touch electric against your skin. He grabs your hips, pulling you flush against him as he claims your lips in yet another searing kiss, tongue delving into your mouth, hot and hungry, making you more hungry for his touch—for him.

“I—can’t,” you whimpered, wanting more of him.

Jake chuckled, “can’t even speak now, hm? What happened to the feisty lil’ girl who couldn’t shut up?”

“Fuck, shut up,” you mumbled, tugging on his hair harder, which only made him groan and squeeze your tits harder, coming up to brush his lips against yours, hot breaths intertwining as he smirks, hand travelling down your body, very close to the hem of your shorts.

“Want me to shut up?” He asked, squeezing your neck with slight pressure, your mouth opening in a gasp—he took the opportunity to spit in your mouth, watching your eyes widen as watches you gulp it down, “good fucking girl,” he mumbles.

You were too gone to function anymore and you had just started, but you knew one thing—whatever Jake wanted, you’d let him do it to you.

That man was no less than a Greek god with how sharp his features looked, especially in the dim light of the room, muscles flexing, abs on full display as he held himself up on top of you to press kisses all over.

In a swift second, he pulled you up to unclasp your bra, throwing it away somewhere to continue pressing hot mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, and down your tummy, caressing it with the pad of his thumb, spending a good few seconds covering the expanse of your skin.

You breathed harder once he reached the waistband of your shorts, his hooded eyes, almost drunk, looking up at you before he swiftly pulled them down, throwing them on the floor somewhere.

He couldn’t be gentle even if he tried, not when he was this thirsty, holding your legs open as he settled in the limited space that the couch held for him. Madman—that’s what he was and you couldn’t help but moan when he got closer to your panty clad cunt, burying his nose in the wet fabric, sniffing the scent of your arousal, groaning as he locked your thighs under his arms, which flexed harder now.

You moaned his name as if a broken record repeating the same thing over and over again and he only mumbled things you couldn’t hear in your cunt, licking the already wet cloth, biting his lip at the first taste of you, “fuck—you’re so fucking perfect,” he says licking you harder, kissing your inner thighs alongside, leaving bites all over—he was feral.

He slid your panties to the side, and the sight he had in front of him drove him to the edge. Jake was an impatient man, yes, he was messy, he was not the softest, but seeing you like this just made him realize how much crazier he could be.

That first taste emboldens him and he dives in like a man starved, lapping at your folds like he’s trying to consume you entirely.

His desperate tongue delves deep inside, fucking you with rapid strokes and curling to hit your sweet spot. You cry out sharply at the intense sensation, fingers tangling in his tousled raven hair to hold him in place. He grips your thighs tightly, holding you down and open for his onslaught as he devours you.

Jake zeroes in on your clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly. Your back arches off the couch as he suckles hard on the throbbing bud, two fingers pumping inside your clenching hole.

“Fuck—Jake, I’m gonna cum!” You wail, thighs trembling violently around his head as your climax approaches rapidly. He doubles his efforts, fucking you harder with his fingers and lashing your clit mercilessly with his tongue.

He curls his fingers to stroke your G-spot with every thrust, drawing out more of your copious arousal to lap up greedily. Your walls start to flutter and clench around him as the pressure builds unbearably.

Jake chuckled, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. “You like that, baby?” He practically purred, before sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue.

“Fuck—yes,” you gasped, your head falling back against the couch. Jake was relentless, his tongue exploring every inch of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your thighs trembling as you stared at the ceiling with your mouth open, desperate for air.

Jake pulled back for a moment, looking up at you with a wicked grin, “you want more, kitten?” He teased, running a finger along your slit, “go on then, beg for it.”

You groaned in frustration, but you were too far gone to care, “please, Jake,” you begged, fueling his ego.

“Shhh, be a good lil’ kitten for me, yeah?” He mumbled into your core mindlessly, sending shivers up your spine as your thighs shake. He didn’t stop, but just when your ecstasy was about to crash—

He stopped.

You let out a frustrated groan and Jake only got up with the essence of you sprawled over his chin, his hard on begging to be freed.

“Fuck?” You asked, trying to get up on your elbows, looking at him incredulously.

He only gave you a once over, tongue poking his cheek from inside before he came closer, swooping you up in his arms easily as you yelped, eyes wide as he carried you to the bedroom, “no patience, huh?” He asked.

He was proud of himself for making you this weak, for cracking your high wall down so he could see you, so he could ruin you. Jake was possessive, especially after knowing what you and Heeseung went through, he wanted you to have the best, and he was willing to be the best for you.

“I—I was gonna cum!” You said, holding on to him for support.

“Did I say you could?” He replied smoothly.

“What—Jake what the fuck?” You whined and he only chuckled.

“Be patient, love, or else you won’t be coming all fucking night, yeah?” He said as he let you get down on the bed.

You looked so innocent, eyes watery, hair messy, looking up at him like an angry little kitten trying to look tough. He climbed the bed and you moved back, till your back hit the headboard and he hovered above you, caressing your cheek as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to look him in his eye. Your heartbeat speeding up yet again, and good lord you loved being manhandled by Jake.

“What are you thinking?” He asked, thumb pushing on your lower lip.

“Nothing.” You mumbled.

He leaned in closer, “not thinking of my cock inside your pretty little cunt, hm?” He asks, watching you shiver at the thought, “by the time I'm done with you, you’ll be begging me to let you cum.”

Your jaw clenched as you slide your hand up Jake’s torso, tracing all the way from his abs to his neck, his own body reacting to your touch, cock twitching inside his pants by the time your hand rested on his nape, pulling him even closer so your noses were touching.

“You know, Jake, you talk big game. Don’t make promises you can’t back up,” you mumbled to rile him up.

Jake’s eyes flashed with a mixture of lust and irritation at your challenge, “oh, you’re going to regret those words,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips possessively. “I’m going to make you beg for my cock, baby.”

He punctuated his statement with a sharp thrust of his fingers, two of them plunging deep into your sopping wet pussy. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he worked them in and out, stroking along your sensitive walls.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. “I can’t wait to feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You moaned, your hips rolling to meet his hand as he fucked you with his fingers. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” you shot back, your voice breathy with desire.

Jake chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers only to bring them to his mouth. He sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your taste. “Mmh—delicious,” he purred, “but I’m not done playing with you yet.”

Before you could protest, he was pushing your thighs apart and settling between them. His tongue delved into your folds, lapping at your arousal like a man starved. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devoured your pussy with single-minded intensity.

He worked you over mercilessly, his tongue and lips and teeth finding all the right spots to drive you wild. You bucked against his face, your thighs trembling as the pleasure built inside you. Just when you thought you might burst, Jake would back off, leaving you desperate and aching for release.

“Jake, please,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair in a futile attempt to guide him back to where you needed him most, “I need to cum. Please let me cum.”

He lifted his head, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Not yet,” he shook his head, his fingers continuing their maddeningly slow circles on your clit, “I want to hear you scream first.”

“I fucking can’t!” You breathed out, trying to control your moans again, “someone’s gonna hear and—ah—complain about it,” you said, which only made him scoff.

“Is that it, hm? Have it your way then, princess,” he mumbled, yanking your soiled panties down all the way, balling it up in his first to make a gag out of it and shoving it down your mouth, “now you can scream all your want, Y/N.” He said, taking your name in his deep voice.

And if you weren’t crazy before, now you had reached your limit of madness, even a poke from his side was like a pleasant burning wound to your skin, his actions also made you realize just how hungry Jake was for being the one in control.

You squirmed beneath Jake, feeling utterly at his mercy as he continued his torturous teasing. The gag in your mouth muffled your moans but couldn’t silence them completely, much to Jake’s enjoyment. Your body arched, yearning for more, desperate for release.

“Such a needy lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Jake growled, his fingers still circling your sensitive bud, “I can feel how wet you are, taste how wet you are, dripping for me, hm?”

His words made you clench, fresh arousal coating his fingers. He gathered some of your slickness and slowly dragged it up to your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. Your hips bucked up in hopes of seeking more contact.

“Hm—so responsive,” Jake purred, looking pleased with himself, “I could do this all night—keep you on the edge, begging so desperately for me.”

“Please—” you tried to say around the gag, your eyes pleading, you were so close, teetering on the brink of an explosive climax. Just a little more.

But Jake seemed determined to deny you that satisfaction, easing off right as you were about to fall over into your state of euphoria, frustration bubbled up inside you, mingling with the overwhelming lust coursing through your veins.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, baby,” Jake taunted, nipping at your inner thigh, “I want to hear you scream my name—let everyone know who you belong to.”

His fingers circled, feather-light touches that drove you wild with need. You thrashed beneath him, incoherent noises of desperation spilling from your lips. Jake just chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your plight, removing your gag to hear you gasp loudly, his name on the tip of your tongue.

Jake was cruel, so cruel the way he denied your orgasm yet again with a smirk playing on his face, a whole one eighty from how he was an hour back and you were crying by now, something he seemed to enjoy too as he licked your face, tasting the salty teardrop you let out, “this makes me wanna ruin you more, y’know?”

“Fuck—Jake, let me cum please,” you sobbed as he took you in his arms.

“You wanna cum, hm?” He asked as you settled on his lap, his hard on pressing against your thigh as you nodded, “fuck, you look so pretty crying like that for me, like a doll, a doll for me to use, hm?”

You couldn’t take it anymore, getting off and undoing his pant buttons as he watched you with amusement how you struggled to take off his pants and boxers, only to find his cock waiting for you, hard and proud.

Jake’s cock was throbbing, hard and ready to burst, as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip in a teasing manner. You could taste the salty beads of precum leaking from his slit, the flavor sending a jolt of desire straight to your core.

“Fuck—baby,” Jake groaned, his fingers threading through your hair as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your throat. “Your mouth feels so good. Keep going just like that, good girl.”

You moaned around his length, the vibrations making him shudder. Your own arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating them with your slick essence. The wet sounds of your slurping filled the room, mingling with Jake’s heavy breaths and grunts of pleasure.

“Shit—fuck, take it easy, I won’t be able to hold back," he panted, his grip on your hair tightening, “I’m gonna fucking come down your throat if you keep sucking me like that.”

You redoubled your efforts, eager to taste his release. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft as you sucked harder, determined to milk him of every last drop. Just as you felt him start to swell, signaling his impending orgasm, you pulled away with a pop.

Jake’s eyes jolted open, a mix of confusion and frustration flashing across his face. “What the fuck, baby? Why the fuck did you stop?”

You just smiled coyly up at him, licking your lips. “Because I want you to cum inside me. I want to feel you fill me up with your hot cum, or are you too much of a coward to fuck me?” You teased, your grin making him scoff.

God he loved you.

Jake growled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. In a flash, he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your side, your back pressed firmly against his torso.

Before you could even process the sudden change in position, he was lined up at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your slick folds.

“Teasing me will only get you punished,” he warned, his voice low and husky with desire. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

With that promise, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching as he filled you completely. Jake set a brutal pace, pounding into you with wild abandon.

You let out a sharp cry as Jake’s thick cock stretched you open, filling you so deeply that you could feel him bulging through your lower abdomen. The feeling of his hard length pulsing inside you sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and press your ass against him.

“Lord—ah yes,” you gasped, grinding against him, “you’re—so fucking big.”

Jake grunted in response, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to pound into you at a furious pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin and your needy moans filled the room, mixing with the creaking of the bed frame beneath you.

“Shit, your cunt is so tight,” Jake mumbled, his breath hot against your neck. “Squeezing my cock like a desperate doll—you were made for me, baby. Made to take my dick and milk me dry.”

His filthy words only heightened your arousal, making you clench even tighter around him. You could feel your orgasm building again, the tension coiling in your core as he hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust.

“Please don’t stop, not this time,” you pleaded, your nails digging into his thighs. “Fuck me harder, Jake. I’m so fucking close.”

He was quick to flip you over again so you were resting on your back, his hips settling in between you as he held your thighs up, your legs resting on both his shoulders with ease as he snapped into you harder, plunging his cock with more need, as if he was a monster hungry for lust and only lust.

Jake snarled, his hips snapping forward with a newfound vigor. One hand moved around to rub firm circles around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to tremble, your breath coming out in short gasps as you found yourself on the brink of ecstasy.

“Cum for me,” Jake demanded, pinching your clit hard, “I want to feel you cum all over my dick, baby.”

With a scream of his name, you practically exploded, your pussy clamping down around him like a vice as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed, your back bowing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed through you, which shocked Jake because you weren’t just having an orgasm.

You were squirting all over his cock.

Jake followed shortly after, his cock pulsing as he spilled his release deep inside you, as he breathed hard, watching you with surprised eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding against you to prolong your shared climax, “you’re so fucking hot, so fucking mine.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls, the sensation making your pussy flutter around his shaft. Jake held you close as you both rode out the aftershocks, his softening cock still buried inside you.

“You’re mine,” he mumbled, “say it.”

“Yours—I’m yours,” you breathed as best as you could.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Jake.”

“Fuck—again.”

“So so fucking yours, I’m all yours Jake.”

“Mine,” he whispered, so possessive.

After a few moments, Jake carefully pulled out and rolled you onto your back. He pressed gentle kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his touch soothing and tender in contrast to the rough passion from moments before.

“That was intense,” he murmured, nuzzling against your collarbone, “I don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you, baby. You’re fucking addictive.”

You smiled up at him, reaching up to cup his face. "I could say the same about you. The way you fuck me, it’s like you’re a fucking beast.”

“Was I too harsh?” He asked, placing soft kisses all over, “I’m sorry I just lost control—you have no idea how badly I need you, I don’t think I can stop,” he confessed.

You kissed him again, “then don’t stop, just don’t.”

That’s all he needed to hear for the night, that you were finally his, and he was yours. He smirked, the night was just getting started.

Chapter 10: Hate me less? You love me more.

You don’t remember how the night ended, not when Jake kept his promise of how you wouldn’t be able to walk anymore once he was done with you, and he was precise about it. He was far from done when he made you fall apart on his cock so many times, you lost count.

It was a crazy switch up once you both were done, he took care of you, almost like he was made for it, helping you clean up in little bathtub which was definitely too small to fit the both of you, yet he helped you bath, a faint blush on his face as you laughed once he tried to act sly, touching you again when you were so sensitive and overstimulated.

Turns out, Jake can be super clingy when he has to be, also not letting you go once you get out of the tub, helping you dry your hair, helping you moisturize your body, helping you smile by kissing you every few seconds.

He held you to sleep, not before hearing you say you actually want him and it’s not a dream. Jake doesn’t remember if he ever felt this way before, this warmth called happiness that you provided him so easily.

“I love you,” he mumbled to your sleeping figure, he was whipped, already thinking of your future together. Yeah, maybe it all happened too quickly, he still wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t mind getting through all the hurt again if it meant that he’d wake up to you sleeping next to him—to you loving him.

It was perhaps the best day of Jake’s life.

The air felt different today.

Not because of the weather, which was finally warm and breezy after days of storm and stress, but because Jake was walking beside you—not behind, not ahead—beside you. His fingers were laced with yours, his thumb brushing over your skin every few steps like he was still checking if this was real, he still couldn’t believe it.

It was.

You passed the main quad slowly, in no rush. The two of you didn’t need to say much. Conversations dimmed as you walked through. You could feel the glances, the whispers.

Someone definitely said your name. Then his.

And then, clear as day, they whispered.

“Wait—are they actually holding hands?”

Jake didn’t flinch.

Not like he would’ve, weeks ago. Not like the boy who couldn’t stand being seen, being known. Instead, he just grabbed your hand a little tighter—casual, sure, and completely unbothered. His expression said it all—Yeah, and?

You chuckled. “Think they’re combusting?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said, tugging you closer with a smugness he barely bothered to hide anymore. “Especially that one girl who’s walking with me, who swore she’d never even look at me.”

“She wasn’t entirely wrong,” you teased. “You were kind of a menace.”

He groaned, tossing his head back, “were?”

You laughed, and it made him smile, soft and full, the kind of smile he used to hide and now gave you freely.

“You’re doing that look again,” he said, side-eyeing you. “Like you’re psychoanalyzing me.”

“Maybe I am. Can’t help it. You’re a walking dissertation, y’know?”

“Yeah? What’s the title?”

You looked up at him with a shrug. “How to fall for someone you’re supposed to hate.”

That made him stop walking.

You blinked, startled, but he was already turning to face you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the fading bruises on his knuckles—old reminders of the version of him you never gave up on.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Fall for me, even when I made it so damn hard.”

You smiled slowly, the kind of smile that made his breath catch. “You still do.”

“Yeah, well,” he squeezed your hand, “at least I’m hot.”

You were too busy rolling your eyes to realize you’d just walked past Heeseung and his friends until the entire bench went awkwardly quiet. Heeseung looked up, eyes flicking from your joined hands to your face, and then to Jake—who didn’t even spare him a glance.

He was too focused on you. Too content stealing a bite of your ice cream like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Let’s go,” you muttered, trying not to laugh as you nudged him forward.

Jake followed. No hesitation.

Because this, the hand holding, the quiet teasing, the stares that didn’t matter anymore, this was normal.

And for the first time in his life, Jake finally understood: Normal didn’t mean boring.

It meant chosen. It meant enough.

It meant being yours.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

permanent 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

taglist open! send an ask or comment to be added!

#fic : call me when you hate me less #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #jake smut #enha smut #kpop smut #jake sim #jake imagines #enhypen imagines #jake x reader #jake x you #jake sim smut #jake hard hours #enhypen #smut

2K notes · View notes