#im in hell and im going in deeper

[ankiebitez]

starting this off by saying to read to the end before getting mad at me lmao

bit of a.... unpopular opinion but...

its kinda crazy to me seeing people excuse the stuff leviathan does just by bringing up his past 😭

like idk man its probably because ive personally delt with issues before where ive just had to learn self accountability and to not use past trauma as an excuse for shitty actions that whenever i see someone excuse leviathan by going "well he was abused 💔 he doesn't know any better" its just kinda like.... okay? that sucks for him but it has literally Nothing to do with the mc in any way

like yeah, he was abused by the angels in Many ways as a child, but he's also a grown man thats lived for thousands of years. he's had time to go to demon therapy or whatever it is but hed probably end up hanging the therapist too

honestly i think its really unfair to just mark off everything he does by pitying him for his past anyway, try and tell me that wouldn't piss him off.

THAT BEING SAID BEFORE YALL GET MAD AT ME, I really DO like the growth in his character that we've seen in the past few cards and chats weve gotten with him. like i said he is growing on me a lot more and i do like him as a character honestly. i think some of the recent interactions weve gotten are pretty cute, the noose he gave mc, the cream buns from his uniform card, and the comic from his attacker card are all really sweet and i like that he's starting to open up a bit more with mc lmao

its just kinda confusing for me personally to see him getting excused for everything just bc of past trauma

and No im not trying to say that there's a problem with liking him or trying to hold him to human morals either. honestly ive liked his character a LOT more when ive just quit taking what he does seriously.

he was spying on mc through a orb out of jealousy and threatened a horse because he didn't know how horse riding worked, he's like a more pathetic version of a disney villain (i mean this affectionately)

[allastoredeer]

The Hierarchal Power Structure in Pentagram City + Royal Family Character Analysis (Hellaverse World-Building)

I did some character analysis, lore, and world-building last night for Pentagram City and the hierarchical systems, and @tomboy014, I saw your reply, and I am here to deliver the deets.

First and foremost, disclaimer: this is world-building/character analysis/lore that I came up with. Some of it is based on canon, but a lot of it is built off my personal fanon. None of it can actually be considered canon, but feel free to incorporate anything here into your fanon or fics or whatever you want. And feel free to not take any of it seriously and ignore it if it doesn't work for you.

This post is going to be broken up into separate parts that delve into different subjects, like the city districts, the Overlords and what they give to the city, hierarchal systems, politics, and soul-contracts.

To get things started, I'm diving into the hierarchical systems of power in the Pride Ring and how involved or uninvolved they are in, most of the character analysis is on the Royal Family (Lucifer, Lilith, and Charlie) and their relationship to the Pride Ring.

So, we know that the Sinners are contained to the Pride Ring and that however powerful the Overlords are and how much influence they have in the Ring, they are still outranked by the Goetia and the Royal Family.

So, diving into that, let's start with the big boss of Hell himself:

Lucifer

Lucifer is the top dog. He's the most powerful being in Hell. What he says goes.

But he doesn't often involve himself with Pentagram City or the Sinners. He's gone out, made appearances, settled disputes that made their way up to him, and is the one who typically deals with Heaven and their input.

Unlike Sinners, he actually gets along well with the Hellborn. He has powerful Hellborn friends, like the Eldritch family - Charlie previously dated Seviathan Von Eldritch (their son) and we see a picture of Frederick Von Eldritch (the dad) with Lucifer in Lucifer's workshop in "Dad Beat Dad:

So, he has good relationships with other people. He has friends. He gets along well with the other Deadly Sins and the Goetia. He has absolutely no problems with them.

He also doesn't mind dealing with issues that pop up in other Rings, but given that those Rings are managed by the other Sins, it's rare that he has to get involved. Usually, the only times he would, is if the Sins themselves were having a dispute with each other, and it got big enough to warrant it coming to him. He's the big boss of Hell, afterall. He gets the final say.

What he does distance himself from is the Sinners.

When it comes to Heaven, Lucifer has an inferiority complex. 

He's been in Heaven, with the seraphims, archangels, and angels for most of his existence. He grew up believing what they believe. He was considered a trouble-maker for his grandiose ideas, but he was still one of them.

But after giving Eve the fruit of knowledge, giving free-will to mankind and breaking the careful order Heaven maintained, the beings that he's been with his entire existence turned on him. Rejected him. Cast him out and punish him for his mistake by seeing nothing but the terrible and wicked caused by his actions.

He feels ashamed and humiliated. Belittled and looked down on. If everyone you've ever known, everyone you've ever been close to, tells you you're done a terrible thing, what other choice do you have then to believe them?

He's still prideful, but that pride is what causes him to have such great shame. He was so certain of his decision. So certain that giving Eve the apple was the right move, only to be torn down so thoroughly and cast out of his home.

But with the Sinners he has a superiority complex.

The Sinners are a constant reminder of his mistake. When he sees them, all he feels is shame, anger, humiliation, and disgust, but he still thinks he's better than them. He thinks all the Hellborn are better than them. He's still got a sliver of that high-and-mighty angel inside him that looks down on the Sinners.

Heaven deemed them bad enough to be sent to Hell, afterall. And even though he'd been cut off from Heaven, even though he was cast out, Heaven's definition of "good" and "bad" is still rooted in his brain. They would know, right? Heaven is pure, and righteous, and good. He was once pure, and righteous, and good. Their logic and reasoning made sense to him, and a part of it still does.

So, he goes out of his way to avoid interacting with the Sinners. Given that he's only ever seen the worst in humanity, he considers them the lowest of the low and doesn't bother trying to learn more about them - he stopped trying to see the good in them after the first few hundred years.

To him, all Sinners are horrible. Heartless. Monstrous. Cruel. They tear things down instead of build things up. They're everything wrong with humanity. He doesn't hold a high opinion of them, nor has he for a very, very, very long time.

Given that he represents "pride," most would assume that he manages the Pride Ring, but it's actually Lilith who runs the Ring and everyone in it. Lucifer is more than happy to let Lilith take the reins when it comes to the Sinners, and almost never takes the opportunity to get more involved when one comes up.

Lilith

Lilith holds a higher opinion of the Sinners than Lucifer does.

She used to be human, afterall. She was the first woman. One of three people that marked the beginning of mankind. Technically, one could argue that she was the first human to commit a sin as she had not only rejected Adam but she was on board with Lucifer sharing the fruit of knowledge with Eve. She was punished for their "reckless act" just the same as Lucifer and cast into Hell.

But where Lucifer feels disgust and shame, Lilith feels a sense of freedom. She's no longer bound to Heaven and their rules. Rules that she struggled with and had to break free of. Rules that also dubbed her a "wicked person" for breaking them.

She feels connected to the Sinners. She feels a kinship with them. She has more empathy for their situations and actions. She understands their misery and anger. She loves learning about them and their stories - some Sinners, of course, are absolutely deplorable human beings. But there are some who lived in difficult situations, made mistakes, developed bad habits, were forced into tight corners, had no other options, or were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She feels righteous anger at Heaven and its strict system that separates the "good" from the "bad."

Lilith has been involved with the growth of Pentagram City since the beginning, and once Overlords became a thing, she worked side-by-side with them to keep the Ring functioning as best as a society can function in Hell.

She was a lot more involved in the beginning of Hell. However, the more the city grew the more it was able to stand on its own two legs. She had more time to step away and be with Lucifer, Charlie later on, and the other Rings. She still often holds her concerts to inspire and uplift demonkind, but she doesn't have to help run the city so much.

Overtime, she became more of an occasional guiding hand or a final vote. The Overlords had a hold of most situations and solved it amongst their own territories or with the other Overlords.

Charlie

While born in Hell, Charlie was actually very sheltered growing up. She was allowed to go to the other Rings, and often went on trips with Lucifer and Lilith to visit the other Sins, but despite living in the Pride Ring, she wasn't allowed to really explore it for a lot of her life growing up.

Lilith wanted to bring young Charlie with her on her trips into the city, to meet the Overlords, see her subjects, and familiarize herself with all the districts, but Lucifer was a little bit more, ehhhh...hesitant, you could say. And protective. Very protective.

He didn't like the idea of his little girl rubbing elbows with the scum of humankind. Of her seeing the violence and cruelty they so often displayed. She became a bright, burning light in his life, giving him new drive, something to love and take care of. It brought him out of his depression for a time, especially when Charlie lived in the palace, but he still had moments when he fell back into it. When he had hard days. When he sunk back into dark thoughts and internalized shame.

During these dark periods of time, Lucifer locked himself in his workroom. He didn't have the energy, the mental capacity, to be there for Charlie, and he didn't want to bring any of the dark and negative thoughts & emotions on to Charlie - the light in his life. His pride and joy.

Distancing himself from her during this spirals is how he "protected" her. He convinced himself that it was for her own good not to see him like this. That he needed to keep this side of him locked away and out of sight for her benefit, not realizing just how much Charlie needed him.

During these spirals, Lucifer turned to creation. He made things. Things for Charlie. Things for Lilith. Random knick-knacks. Whatever object, animal, or concept that crossed his mind. More often than not, though, his creations had holy undertones. Angelic designs. Some piece of Heaven squirreled inside.

Charlie loved watching her dad create things, and eventually, Lucifer started telling her stories about Heaven. What it was like up there. How beautiful it was. The archangels and the seraphims who made galaxies and expanded the universe. Who kept evil at bay.

Charlie soaked in these stories and developed a fascination for Heaven.

Lilith didn't approve. She had complicated feelings about Heaven, but for the most part, she had a negative opinion of it. Of the angels, the seraphims, their order, and rules, and expectations. She doesn't see it with the same rose-tinted glasses that Lucifer does. She doesn't have the millennia of memories and experiences that Lucifer has.

She doesn't like Lucifer filling Charlie's head with these grandiose and beautiful depictions of Heaven. She doesn't like Charlie's growing fascination with Heaven. She doesn't like the look of awe and wonder in Charlie's eyes. She doesn't like Lucifer painting Heaven in this perfect light when they had both been hurt so badly by them. She's been with Lucifer since the beginning, has seen him through every up and down, spiral, and depressive episode, and she doesn't understand how he could still hold such a high opinion of them after everything they did. Everything they've put her through. Everything they put him through.

She's okay with Lucifer spending time with Charlie and creating things with her, but she does interrupt and make an excuse to take Charlie with her when Lucifer starts talking about Heaven, or creating Heavenly things, like the bird-angel-creature from "Dad Beat Dad"

She doesn't want Charlie getting the wrong idea about them.

Lucifer's leniency towards Heaven & contempt for Sinner and Lilith's animosity towards Heaven & compassion for Sinners starts butting heads more and more as Charlie grows up. It leads to arguments, and then fights, and eventually, their divorce.

Charlie grew up torn between her father's dreams and stories, and her mothers compassion for Sinners and desire to help them. Both facets have been instilled in her. They're both driving motivators for her and what she wants to do with her life.

But seeing the separation between her parents was hard and it hurt. No matter what she did, she couldn't help their marriage or their family. So, she turned to helping others. The Sinners, specifically. Of redeeming them so they may see the beautiful, wondrous place her father told her about.

Lucifer still didn't approve, of course, which devastated Charlie. She wanted his support. Needed it. But he couldn't look past his contempt for Sinners, and it became the leading factor that led to their estrangement in the years that followed, with Charlie feeling unsupported and neglected, and Lucifer wanting to reconnect with her so badly but not knowing how to bridge the gap.

Lilith needed distance from Lucifer. She still loved him. She did. But she's also been with him since before Hell was created. They've been at each other's sides since they first met in the Garden of Eden.

And Lucifer's depressive episodes were hard on her too. She did everything she could to support him. To help him. To be there for him. But over time, the mental and emotional load began weighing on her. It started affecting her mentally and emotionally too. It's hard to be the one constantly holding up the other. She felt like she could never break. Never stumble. She had to be steadfast. She had to be strong. A pillar for her family and her kingdom. To raise Charlie, oversee the city, and support Lucifer all at once, and she was exhausted.

And with her and Lucifer butting heads more and more, she couldn't keep doing it. She left the Pride Ring, visited the other Rings, took some time for herself and something something, stuff happens, she ends up in Heaven (my reasoning for this changes based on what fic I'm writing or concept I'm thinking about, so I don't have a concrete answer to give).

She did leave Charlie on her own, too, though.

Charlie had to build her plan for redemption, start her hotel, and deal with demonkind all on her own, without the support of either of her parents, without their help navigating the city and dealing with Sinners, which leaves her fumbling, unsure how to act around them, and a bit naive to their situation. When she met Vaggie, she got the love and support for her dreams, for herself, that she craved. That she needed. That's been missing for so many years.

Charlie still loves both of her parents deeply, but she has complicated feelings about them that she buries deep, deep, deep down inside her. She's got mommy and daddy issues.

Goetia

The Goetia are the third most powerful beings in Hell (after the Sins and the Royal Family). They outrank the Overlords easily.

Goetia families live in every ring. They can move between Rings, go where they want, and have their own sway and political power in Hell. A Goetia that we know, for sure, lives in the Pride Ring is Stolas, as implied by the sky where his house/estate is located:

But, generally, the Goetia don't get that involved in Pentagram City, its politics, or the Overlords, unless it affects them directly. They work with the Overlords, meet with them to discuss matters that involve them both, but over all, they leave Pentagram City, the Overlords, and the Sinners all to their own devices. They don't care enough to get involved, and, technically, the Pride Ring is the Sinner's ring - as they are restricted to it - and they don't want to have to maintain a society or system for them.

The Goetia have an indifferent opinion of the Sinners. Where Imps and Hellhounds are the lower class, and generally looked down on, especially by the Goetia, the Sinners are kind of just...there.

They may look down on them a little, and not take the Overlords too seriously, as they see them as nothing but a handful of Sinners with a smidgeon of power - how cute ^.^ They think they can actually do shit! - that doesn't hold a candle to a Goetia's power.

They do tend to underestimate the Overlord's power and can be condescending towards them, but in the end, if an Overlord were to try and go toe-to-toe with a Goetia, they would get their ass beat.

So, the Goetia's attitude towards Pentagram City, the Overlords, and the Sinners is generally indifferent. They simply don't care enough to get involved. The Sinners are none of their concern and they don't want to make them their concern. They only ever interact/deal with the Overlords, and even then, it's sparingly.

The Goetia keep to themselves. The Overlords and Sinners keep to themselves. Both are fine with this. (The Overlords would not be happy if the Goetia decided they wanted more control of city and inserted themselves into the politics and hierarchy).

Overlords

Like how Lucifer is the top dog in all of Hell, the Overlords are the top dogs in Pentagram City (not including the Goetia, who keep to themselves and don't get involved in Sinner business).

The city is run by the Overlords. They each have their own districts, their own imports and exports, and a trade that benefits the city in some way, shape, or form. A lot of their trades can be dependent, or involved, with other Overlord's and their trades, which is an incentive for them to keep the peace and work together.

They meet up fairly often to discuss the happenings in the cities, situations/events that have an impact on all of them (like the Exterminations), problems that arises that they need to groupthink for solutions, and any matter or subject that an Overlord wants to bring up with the other's.

The relationship between the Overlords can vary. Some can be friends, some can just be allies, some can have friction, and some can be flat out rivals. No matter what the relationship is, it's crucial that the order between them be maintained.

Overlords, generally, try not to attack or openly antagonize each other. They don't typically want to start fights, as that is just as much a risk to them as it is to the one they want to fight. And if a fight does break out, either 1) the Overlord will be defeated with the possibility of losing souls - or killed, depending on if their attacker has an angelic weapon, or 2) the defeated Overlord will be embarrassed and angry, and the friction will only get worse and cause more detriment to the group as a whole.

Nobody wants Overlords fighting, especially the Overlords. They're the most powerful Sinners, but even that power has risks. It takes a while to build up, but it can be snatched away so quickly, and few of them want to take that chance. The best option is to get along as best they can when they're in the same room, and keep to themselves and their districts when they separate.

The Overlords are essentially a counsel. They're all considered equals of each other. There is no head of the Overlords. No one who presides over them, except Lilith. They all stand on equal footing and treat each other as such (at least outwardly). They work together to keep the city running, as their empires, power, and trades are dependent on the city. It's in all their best interests to keep it functioning as much as a society can function in Hell. (It helps that they are the ones controlling the system, and thus, they benefit from having a say in what goes on in the city).

If an Overlord were to be "toppled" or killed, it would actually rock the balance that's been established in the city. Suddenly, there will be thousands of Sinners with broken contracts who now own their souls, entire territories that can be seized, a trade/resource that is either up for grabs or gone entirely, and overall chaos and confusion. Greedy Overlords might make a power grab for more territory and souls, which becomes a threat to the other Overlords and their status. More fights break out. More damage and destruction. More friction.

It's bad for everyone. So they try to keep the peace among each other as much as possible.

Crime-Families

Crime-families fall under the Overlords in this hierarchy of power. These crime-families don't have to be "families," they can be gangs, factions, syndicates, or organizations.

Some of them may be owned by an Overlord, fall into the jurisdiction of an Overlord, or are entirely independent with their souls intact. No matter what the relationship is, crime-families do tend to work directly with Overlords.

They specialize in smuggling, trafficking, and recruiting. Unless owned, they typically don't work with just one Overlord, but do business with all of them. They can be paid under-the-table by a specific Overlord to be notified when they have a “fresh supply," or if they found something/someone that could benefit that Overlord, but generally, they keep the entire pool open and neutral, as there's more money to be made that way and there's safety in being a resource for all Overlords, not just one. That way, if they were threatened, it would come to the attention of all the Overlords, as they are a valuable resource and anyone threatening that makes themselves a target.

Owned Sinners

Owned-Sinners are Sinners who have sold their soul. The system for owning and selling souls is a complex one, with pros and cons. There's a reason so many sinners end up selling their souls, despite how serious and significant it is to do so.

And that's because so often the benefits outweigh the risks.

There are many reasons why a Sinner will sell their soul, like fame, money, opportunity, security, safety, housing, jobs, desires, needs, etc... and whoever owns their soul, that person is now responsible for it and them.

Some Sinners will sell their soul as a way to get a well-paying job from an Overlord, or to fall under their protection so they're safe from outside threats, or to pay off loans they can't pay back, or to wipe clean their slate if they get themselves in too much trouble. When an Overlord owns your soul, you have the opportunity to relocate to that Overlord's district as further means of security and opportunity.

Furthermore, most people who sell their souls just...continue living their own lives. Overlords own thousands upon thousands of souls. There's no way they can keep track of every single one of them, or have hyper-specific deals with each one. Most sinners can sell their soul and continue living their afterlife with whatever benefits they sold it for. Easy peasy.

There are, of course, cons too.

Like, the fact that you are owned by someone. You're bound by the contract you signed. You're bound to the person who now owns your soul. The deal you made may have specific requirements that you have to follow, and not doing so can result in very, very bad consequences.

It opens situations for abuse and being taken-advantage of. Even if you change your mind afterward, you can't break the deal. Unless you convince the owner of your soul to dissolve it, they don't hold up their end of the bargain, or you can't find a loophole/backdoor, you're trapped in the contract and there is nothing you can do about it.

Non-Owned Sinners

Non-Owned Sinners fall under Owned-Sinners in this power-structure because they don't have the opportunities or security that comes with being tied to an Overlord.

Overlords can offer protection, housing, well-paying jobs, opportunities, money, debt-relief, a myriad of things. Whereas Non-Owned Sinners are all on their own. They're "free targets." There won't be any repercussions to killing them, hurting them, taking all their shit, trafficking them, literally doing anything to them.

Non-Owned Sinners have the independence and freedom of owning their souls, but they're essentially fishes in a shark tank. They're vulnerable. They're out in the open. They're more likely to live in squalor. Bad things are more likely to happen to them.

Living in Hell, where death, destruction, misery, and torment are the norm, most Sinners will end up selling their souls. And if they don't at first, they usually do eventually when life gets too hard, they get themselves into too much trouble, they fall for a recruiters trap, or they're desperate.

Imps

Imps are below Non-Owned Sinners. The Pride Ring is the most diverse Ring in all of Hell, so there are a lot of Hellborn who live there. Imps are still one of the lowest classes, but there are actually a lot of opportunities for them there.

Sinners don't see Imps the same way other Hellborn do. They weren't born there and they are restricted to the Pride Ring, so they don't see how other Rings treat Imps. 

Imps aren't treated as badly in the Pride Ring, especially in Imp City (which is an entire district in Pentagram City that's in a neutral zone, and thus, under the jurisdiction of no Overlord) and is dominantly populated by other Imps.

Though they still are very much treated as a lower class, it's not as terrible as it can be in other Rings. The diversity of so many sinners and Hellborn make it a little easier. They have job opportunities within the city. They can work for Overlords without having to sell their soul, as Overlords can't own the souls of Hellborn, just other Sinners.

Hellhounds

Hellhounds are at the bottom of the list, as they are canonically the lowest social class in Hell. Most of the jobs they get fall under the category of security, manual labor, sex work, or working with crime-families.

Like Imps, it's a little better in the Pride Ring, given its diversity and the Sinners not having a full scope of just how much lower of a class Imps and Hellhounds are supposed to be. It's not perfect by any means, and the system is still rigged against them, but there's more job opportunities and ways to make a life for themselves.

That's that for the hierarchical system in the Pride Ring, from the highest class to the lowest class. The most powerful to the least powerful.

TLDR: Lucifer is the most powerful but he doesn't want to get involved with Sinners, Lilith helped the city grow until it could stand on its own, Charlie wants to help but struggles due to family issues and being sheltered most of her life, the Goetia don't care enough to get involved with the Sinners, the Overlords are a counsel of equals, Crime families work for the Overlords, Owned-Sinners have more opportunity, Non-Owned Sinners have less opportunity, Imps and Hellhounds have always been considered a lower class, but it's not as bad for them in the Pride Ring.

Up Next: A Deep Dive into the Overlords and their Districts (this is where the real world-building begins)

[maraschinotopped]

undertale yellow. clutches head in anguish.

[sapphiclinos]

what drugs did they put in sonic that attracts autistic people cos oh my god this shit has taken over my life in the span of a week how did they DO THAT

[moonilit]

more rambling about Joshua and Jote and clive

tw: mention slavery

the topic is heavy, but in a story where they try to change the world were people live and die free it ties in thematically that one of the protagonist, the heir to the throne, the archduke, end up loving and caring for this bearer girl who the world considers a slave class

what Joshua already knows as wrong now he get to be even more involve with it’s horrors, Clive was branded and enslaved for 13 years, he have seen it first hand, Joshua on the other hand had to see his closest companion, his childhood friend live in constant fear of being discovered

[crebbyhermit]

found this in the drafts

[vamptastic]

my voice started changing SO fast on T like the first changes i noticed were around three weeks and now it's been like six-ish weeks on 0.3 (a pretty low dose) and my voice is noticably deeper and cracking when i try to pitch it too high. really wasn't expecting this to happen for like a year im really pleased :)

[bexisanidiot]

WHO. EHO DID THSI

[bmpmp3]

Learning about mixing because of vocal synth covers is so funny I'll be like trying to look up instrumental-vocal clashing solutions and the fruityloop tutorialmen will be like "well if it clashes just make a better instrumental" and I'm like my friend I am trying to insert a baritone robot into a pre-mastered offvocal from a song created for Hatsune Miku gender factor alllllll the way down from the year 2010. It's the only instrumental I got boss.

[solifloris]

Roxie. ROXIE. Have you listened to this because..... I cannot function anymore

https://youtu.be/BYrU6VVX4c0?si=1LtYLXs-SYojXVYB

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO I HAVENT LISTENED TO XAVIER'S HIGHER-AFFINITY AUDIOS YET BC IM STILL AT 113 (ive been neglecting AA)........

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT. I WAS GOING TO WAIT BUT . I WENT FUCK IT WE BALL (i miss him) AND I-??????????? WHAT IS GOING ON I CANT BELIEVE WE HAVE THIS HELLO WHGKSJDHGSKJDVNKDF IM. YELLING SCREAMINFG I. I CANT DO THIS I WOULD HAVE NEVER BEEN PREPARED FOR THIS THANK YOU FOR THE MENTAL NOTE I HAVE TO MAKE TO NEVER LISTEN TO THESE EVER AGAINNNNNNNNNNNNNN (/lh /pos)

[rafeovermorals]

overstimulating joel until he cums. again.

content: oral (m receiving), joel is 61 and has a hard time keeping up with his much younger girlfriends sex drive, use of daddy, slight dubcon

a/n: this is how im choosing to cope with this scene, okay? i can’t help that he looks hot as fuck.

joel was too worn out to move.

chest heaving, mouth quivering, all he could do was lay there and watch you take from him.

you were such a greedy lil’ thing, one round was never enough. so eager and needy. always wanting more, like you wouldn’t last a day without his cock.

he kept up with you as best as he could for a man his age, making sure to stay in shape so he that maintained his stamina, but it only got him so far.

it was a guilty reminder— he was old. you were young. nothin’ he could change about that. he already ran through the small supply of viagra he was able to get ahold of weeks ago, which left him at your mercy.

even after a long day of patrol he came home and fucked you every night, just like you wanted. what was left of his energy he thrusted deep into your cunt with his seed to prove it, giving you a kiss on the cheek before pulling out and turning onto his back to go to sleep.

it had been a while since you went down on him. he didn’t have much control on when or how often he got hard, so when he was he used those moments inside of you.

except joel didn’t realize how much you missed him in your mouth, so badly that you needed it.

as he rolled off of you to his side of the bed, you noticed how his cock was flushed— coated with your juices and his cum. he was softening but stayed big, thick in girth with graying hairs at the base.

he didn’t have the chance to recover before you had his cock in your hand, sitting on your knees and holding him straight as you licked the shaft.

“baby… what’re y’doin?” he asked timidly, still attempting to control his breaths from cumming just a minute or two prior. you simply responded with a hum, looking up at him through your lashes as you swirled your tongue— tasting yourself on him.

you placed a kiss on his tip, his cock reacting with a throb that pulsed in your grasp. “alright, that’s enough.” he spoke low, a quavering warning for you to stop— but his tone lacked in confidence.

“let me have this, daddy.” as if he had a choice.

you took him into your mouth, lips curling around his cock as you watched his face twist from the sensation.

fucking hell, you were going to be the death of him.

he clenched his jaw, teeth grinding while he tried to hold himself back— hold you back. he pushed at your head, attempting to shove you with what little control he had left, but you didn’t budge. you only went further, inching his cock deeper down your throat. he was forced into submission.

joel was so sensitive that he whined from the mix of pain and pleasure, the line blurring the more you swallowed him. “i don’t have anythin’ left in me, honey... gave you of it already.” he told you slow, his voice trembling.

you moaned in defiance, mouth stuffed full of his length. you brought a free hand to his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze which made him nearly whimper. you pull away, spit dribbling from the corners of your lip. “can feel that you still got some in here, just gotta get it out, daddy. it’ll feel so much better.”

he clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together as you continued to suck him— bobbing at a teasing speed while you massaged the rest of his length at the same time. he twitched his hips, his body defying his words.

it felt so good that it was hurting him. your throat was beginning to burn due to lack of recent experience, but you were determined for it.

“just couldn’t wait, huh? so cock drunk that y’had to use your old man like this, knowin’ im vulnerable?” you nodded, that familiar ache in your core returning.

he was thinking of all the ways to punish you once you were done— ready to spank you until you cried, maybe edge you if he was feeling mean. he would find a way to make you pay.

joel was determined to give you one more load since you went through all of this to get it. he couldn’t disappoint his girl.

he was so numb that he couldn’t even feel himself getting ready to cum, his eyes glossy and in a state of haze at the sight of you drooling on his thighs.

the warm, soft flesh of your cheeks hollowing in on him brought him to his release, spilling hot, creamy ropes on the pad of your tongue. whenever you thought he was done it didn’t stop— drops still leaking out after you finished.

“better lick me dry honey. since you wanted it so damn bad.”

[jaysbaefie]

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!

[st6rrrs]

Bunny! Reader thinks rafes to big!

BUNNY! READER MOOD BOARD

P link

"not right now...rafey" you say pouting up at him as he stares at you confused

it was about 7:30pm, you and rafe were sitting on his balcony to his room, just enjoying the nice breeze as the sun begin to set.

"What the hell do you mean, not right now?" he groans rubbing his buzzed hair

"not right now." you huff whirling your hair with your finger and avoiding eye contact

"What are you on your period? ‘Cause you’re really starting to piss me off." his tone shifts. "you never turn me down?"

"no! im not...its just" you stammer your voice shaking slightly.

You fidget nervously as rafe stares at you impatiently

"your too big." you squeal covering your face with your hands and laying your head on his lap embarrassed.

"Too big?" he repeated a cocky smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

you knew he would be like this.

“Well I don’t know” he teased "Maybe you're just too tight, huh?" he chuckled as his hands moving up and down on your body.

you whine embarrassed again and cover your ears.

"everytime we fuck i feel like your suffocating my dick ya know?" he yanks your hand away from your ear and whispers that.

"Stop it, Rafe!" you whine as your face burns with embarrassment

you feel his laughter vibrating through his body.

your voice barely above a whisper. "

You're just so… big, and it hurts." you whimper sitting up now looking at him with your pretty, wide doe eyes.

"Maybe we just need to work on… stretching you out a bit yea?" he suggests his voice full of cocky confidence.

"ahh this isn't helping!" you moan into the bed below "it hurts"

you were on your hands and knees as rafe was behind you

"Ah come on baby relax your squeezing me." Rafe says as he pushes himself deeper into you.

you whine in frustration

"Ow, Rafe, stop! Just stop for a second" your voice high pitched and frustrated.

you were someone who rarely ever gets mad, you were the softest so this shocked rafe a bit.

Rafe pauses and looks at you with a mixture of concern and amusement.

"You're not going to break, baby," he says rubbing your head

you take a deep breath and try to calm down

Rafe's expression softens and he leans down to kiss you gently.

"I'll go slow okay? I'll make it feel good I promise." He starts to move again his thrusts slow and gentle.

you feel yourself start to relax and it doesn't hurt as much.

"Oh, Rafe," you moan "That feels…really good."

Rafe starts to move a little faster.. his thrusts still gentle but more insistent.

you feel yourself getting more and more turned on

"Rafe oh my god" you whimper, your voice rising. "I'm going to...I'm going to cum rafey..." the wave of pleasure crashes over you and you let out a little squeal.

you huff in exhausted and fall off your hands onto you stomach but rafe grips your hips, holding you in place as he pounds into you. His fingers are digging deep into your skin

As Rafe's cock thrusts deeper into you, you feel a sudden jolt of sensation as he hits your cervix.

you gasp as Rafe's cock rubs against your cervix. it hurts but it feels so gooddd

Suddenly he's crying out

his voice a loud groan of pleasure as he cums inside you. you can feel his hot seed spilling into you, filling you up with a warm, sticky sensation.

his hips jerking as he rides out the wave of his orgasm.

He's collapsed beside you.

Rafe's voice is low and husky

"You just needed to be stretched out, baby," he says "You were a little tight but I knew I could loosen you up."

“Don’t be embarrassed baby” he whispered his voice smooth almost teasing.

“You’re cute when you’re shy”

[awrkive]

summary: where you and jungkook are in a situationship and you kind of hate each other but the sex is great

wc: 2.8k

warnings/misc: idol!jk x producer!(fem)reader, they are mean to each other 😬, just.. weird dynamics tbh. explicit sexual content: unprotected s*x, multiple positions, cre*mpie, brief c*nnilingus

note: this is entitled "something" in my docs. i genuinely dk what this is but i read this and i was like. oh! okay! i think i had a vision so i want to share!! ik im not the #1 fan of mean jk or idol aus for that matter but the oc is equally just as mean so i kind of fw this tbh aishdixh. not proofread. sorry!

The surface of the leather couch is cold against your back when Jungkook pushes you to it – quite roughly, as if he has something to prove. 

And it definitely feels like it when he shoves your panties to the side once he’s situated on top of you – two of his fingers inserting themselves in your pussy without any warning. 

“Fuck, what’s gotten you so wet?” Jungkook hisses on the side of your head, pushing his slender fingers in your heat until he’s knuckles deep, buried to the hilt.

“I– oh fuuck,” your words get cut off with a moan when Jungkook starts rubbing your clit with his thumb, fast and erratic. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook says, a little mocking, squeezing your waist with his free hand, noting the way your heavy breathing fills the space of your studio. It’s dimly lit, just like you like it, and Jungkook knows there could be someone anytime that could walk by – the staff, his juniors, seniors, whoever – but it’s not your first time fooling around in your studio and it sure as hell isn’t going to be the last. 

“J-jeon—” 

“I’m just Jeon now?” Jungkook picks up his pace in your pussy, sliding his fingers in and out until you’re a panting mess under him, moans influencing his blood to travel to his dick that’s considerably getting bigger every second that passes by. “Come on, not even Jungkook? Kook? And there you were a while ago back at practice studio calling Mingyu oppa when he’s fucking barely older than you.” 

“Oh my god, shit— J-jung– it’s–” 

Jungkook doesn’t know exactly what comes over him, but he begins fingering you so fast he felt your wrist wrap around his own, and he could see a hint of tear drop from the side of your eye before Jungkook notices the way your thighs shake, a telltale sign of your orgasm. 

And he’s usually a giver. Always is, to be frank. Especially when it comes to you. Because as much as you infuriate him, you also look really fucking pretty when you cum – but this time, Jungkook feels a little petty. 

So when you say you’re about to cum just like Jungkook predicted, he abruptly slides his fingers out of your pussy, leaving you empty. 

“What the fuck—” he doesn’t let you finish, just uses his strength to flip you over the couch with his hands on your waist, and in swift motion gets you in all fours. 

“You don’t deserve to come before I put my dick in you.” 

Jungkook kneels behind you, takes his engorged cock out of his sweats, and enters your sweet, wet hole suddenly in an almost abrupt motion, hearing the way your breath hitch when the first inch comes into contact. 

“Oh god…” you moan at the delicious stretch, burying your face deeper in the couch as Jungkook begins entering you slowly.

It certainly isn’t the first time you’ve fucked without much prep. Jungkook always insists on an orgasm first before he pushes his cock deep into you while you say otherwise – but perhaps he’s most especially pissed at you tonight that he’s even breaking his own rules. 

You don’t really care, though. The burn feels delicious. It’s slow and it’s steady and you can just feel Jungkook holding out from slamming into you right away, his dick getting even bigger in you, every ridge crossing your inner walls.

His deep grunts and heavy breathing paired with your whimpers and moans bounce off the walls, and you’re beginning to think it’s one of the benefits of getting a studio soundproofed so you can fuck someone in peace in it. 

“S-so fucking tight—” Jungkook groans, sliding out slowly. The loss doesn’t last long when he enters you again, grabbing your hips tighter as he goes. “Is me fucking you almost everyday not enough, huh?” 

“You don’t fuck me everyday– ah,”

A hard thrust, one that feels a little punishing. It makes your legs shake, almost making you give out on your position. 

“Whose fault is that?” Jungkook hisses. Then, he speeds up again, and soon the sounds of skin slapping against skin filtrates the room. Jungkook jackhammers into you, and this time you’re more than sure he’s trying to prove something. 

“I’m not the– the– busier one–oh— between us.” You reaching out for something behind you – nothing in particular, but Jungkook takes your hand anyway, placing it on the small of your back and keeping it there is he slams into you again, repeating the motion over and over again until you’re near tears. 

It’s so good, and you’re so wet and you want to cum so bad.

You’re just about to whine for it when Jungkook suddenly changes your position again, splaying his hand around your stomach until all you know is that he’s manhandling you over the couch and he’s seated on the leather while you end up on his lap. 

Jungkook slides your top upwards until they’re halfway on your chest, expertly creeping up your back to unhook your bra, the flimsy garment falling down your lap. He doesn’t waste more time and maneuvers you a little to suck on your nipples, hands coming to your waist to start bounching you on his cock. 

You whimper at the simulation, hands grabbing his hair at the shock. There’s a mirror across from you that lets you see everything that’s happening, and you can’t help but let out a loud moan when you see the way his engorged head disappears in your pussy every time he pushes you down his lap, with his messy hair buried deep on your chest. 

You look a mess, with your skirt on the floor and portions of your ponytail breaking away from your elastic tie. But you help Jungkook anyway, holding onto his arm as you bounce up and down on him, pushing your shirt way up your chest until your breasts are free from the constraint of the fabric.

“You’re always so pliant when you’re on my cock like this,” Jungkook says as he bites your nipple. And it felt petty, together with his words. 

“Shut up. M-make me cum.” You hiss, grabbing his hair a little tight to make him look up at you. 

He does, but there's a smug smirk on his face. “You think you deserve it?” 

You arch a brow, despite feeling the tight coil in your stomach. “When do I not?” 

“Wrong answer.” Jungkook tsks, shaking his head. Your eyebrows meet, but you find it incredibly hot when he does that thing with his tongue in his cheek. “Wrong answers mean I get to come before you. So sit back and be a good girl for me, hm?” 

“Fuck off—” You’re interrupted by Jungkook giving a forceful thrust from down under, so powerful that it almsot knocks you off his lap. 

“Look at you, such a fucking slut. A gorgeous slut,” Jungkook says, cupping the side of your head and directing you to look in the mirror you were looking at just a second ago. Your breathing is heavy, and your boobs bounce the same time you go up and down on Jungkook’s cock at a quick, abnormal pace you’re literally running out of breath. “Pussy so fucking tight and tiny but you can always take my dick, huh? No matter how big it gets for you? Right, princess?” 

You whimper. “Don’t call me that.” 

Jungkook only smirks. “Oh, but you are a princess. Always whines when you don’t get what you want.” 

“I d-don’t– fuuckkk – I don’t whine.” you hiss directly to his face, glaring at him. 

He chuckles, dark and deep. His fingers begin to creep over your pussy, and soon he’s rubbing fast circles over it, and you want to bite back with an answer to get the last word – but the words die on your tongue when Jungkook changes the position again, roughly placing you on the couch, turning you to your side.

Jungkook grabs your leg and hook it on his shoulder, finds leverage on one of your ass cheeks and enters you from that position, jackhammering thrusts making you almost scream. 

It felt so deep, so close, and the stretch is almost godly. Delicious. The way Jungkook’s dick fills you up so good makes the tears form in your eyes, and you keep your eye on him as he pumps in and out of you, sweat already forming on his brows, abs clenching, veins popping out of his arms.

“S-shit–” Jungkook hisses, breathing heavily, a telltale sign of his impending orgasm. “I’m gonna cum. Shit, can I– can I cum inside?” 

You nod your head vehemently, grabbing your own chest at the sight of him to give yourself some form of relief. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans before he slams into you in and out, repeating the motion over and over again until his thighs shake. Pauses. Then, he takes his cock out slowly from you, and you look down to see the way Jungkook’s abdomen clench when he starts pumping his cock to shoot his seed into your hole. 

It’s warm on your pussy, a little cold when it begins trickling down. 

“J-jungkook, I want to—” 

“Shh, princess. You’ll come. Just wait a little.” he squeezes his cock for more, spurts of cum shooting into and onto you, and you feel like you could cry at this point. 

“Jungkook—” 

“Easy.”

He puts your leg down and you thought he was going to enter you again but he adjusts you on the couch, kneels down on the floor, and pokes his tongue out to taste you. 

“Oh god!” you gasp when Jungkook suddenly dives in, hungry and impatient, tongue eager to get everywhere all at once.

It happened so fast you don’t exactly know when you released. But when you do, you’re lax on the couch afterwards with Jungkook sitting beside you, massaging your breasts. 

“Kook… that’s enough.” you say, holding his wrist. 

Jungkook arches a brow. But he lets go. 

The post-coital momentum hits you the same. 

It’s always like this when you’re doing fucking. You pick up your clothes, and Jungkook starts dressing himself properly too. 

You comb your hair through your fingers, putting it back into a decent ponytail in the mirror. You see the reflection of Jungkook behind you seating himself on the couch. 

“You’re working tonight?” He takes out something in his pocket, a familiar small, pink electronic device. 

Your expression sours immediately. “Keep that shit away from my studio, Jeon.” Jungkook halts, arching his brow your way. You roll your eyes. “If you’re gonna smoke, do it with a real cigarette. Don’t be a pussy.” 

Jungkook snorts a scoff, but he tucks away the vape in his pocket back again, anyway. 

“You’re getting real creative with being hateful about my smoking. Careful, princess. I’m starting to think you wanna be my girlfriend.” 

You walk towards your swivel chair in front of the keyboard. On the screen is a song you’ve been working on for the past month, unfinished, with way too many versions of the melody. You can’t seem to figure out what fits best. 

You look back at Jungkook with a disgusted face. “You keep on mentioning that word. I think you want me to be your girlfriend.” 

He laughs, relaxed against the sofa, watching you from across the room. 

“I would’ve already asked you way before if I wanted that.” 

You pause. 

Huh. 

What a fucking asshole. 

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But you’re the one getting all worked up just ‘cause I called your bestfriend oppa when he's barely fucking older than me.” You quote him as a retort, throwing his words back at him, going back to your computer. 

“Did it flatter you?” 

You tried some notes on the keyboard, and again, it doesn’t feel right. Something's missing. Something's too much.

“No. Why would it? You’re a good fuck, I’ll give you that. But you’re not more than that to me.”

A few keys again. It felt way too… bright. The lyrics don't fit. Yoongi would know what to do with this track. But you can’t come to him again, especially after what happened a week ago. A drunk confession and a sober rejection, with the confession coming from you and the rejecting coming from Yoongi.

Now you have to act as if that didn't faze you. Hell is going to freeze over way before you show everyone you give a fuck about anything.

You don’t even notice that Jungkook hadn’t said anything to the last thing you said because it was just that quick for you to get holed in at work. 

Until you hear footsteps coming your way. 

“What are you working on?” Jungkook asks, gesturing to the whole equipment before you. 

“Songs.” you say, not really interested in getting into more conversation with him tonight. 

The sex was good, and you won't tell Jungkook this – it's unspoken anyway – but sex with him has always lessened your stress. Made you feel free, even just for a moment. Jungkook likes sex, and he makes sure to prove it to you everytime you do it.

“Wasn’t really obvious.” Jungkook sarcastically says.

You sigh at that, eyes focused on your screen. Clicking away at the software, trying out some keys again. The sound of the keyboard almost rings to your ears at this point.

“Jungkook, I’m working.” 

“I know. What? I can’t watch you? Yoongi always tells me it’s better if I watch how you guys work so I can learn a thing or two.” He shrugs, sitting in the available chair next to you. 

The mention of Yoongi makes you jump a little, something you hope Jungkook doesn't notice. When he doesn't say anything, you arch your brow at him.

“Why? Thinking of producing your own shit from now on?” 

You didn't really think that through. Just wanted to... say something. Retort. But you see that flicker of something unknown flash his face, and you know to yourself instantly that was a… low blow.

Jungkook had always felt… you don’t know, really. He’s just close off when it comes to his… own works. He almost doesn’t really mention them to you, even though that could be something you can talk about when you’re not trying to get in each other's pants.

“None of your business.” Jungkok says after awhile. 

You bite your lip. “Okay.” 

The room feels quiet until Jungkook breaks it.

“He’s planning to ask you out, by the way.” 

Without looking away from your computer, you ask, “Who?” 

“Mingyu.” 

“Oh.” 

“What are you going to say?” 

Your brows furrow. “Not sure. You’re his friend right? Is he a nice guy?” 

“You like nice guys now?” 

“Who doesn't?” you roll your eyes. “Maybe I’ll say yes.” 

Jungkook suddenly stands up, the chair scraping against the floorboards.

“Okay, well. Just tell me when you two start fucking, just so I know my health isn’t at risk here.” 

You look up at him incredulously.

“You know you’re such a fucking asshole sometimes, right?” He doesn’t say anything. You scoff. “As if you haven’t fucked anybody else since we started doing this.” 

“Who the hell else have I fucked, quickly?” Jungkoon furrows his brows. 

Shit. You’re confused now. The software is dancing in your eyes. Maybe it was wrong to get right into it after having sex; your brain's mush. And Jungkook's picking up a fight with you as fucking usual. You genuinely don't want to get into it right now.

“I don’t fucking know, Jeon. A random idol at some music show backstage? Maybe one of your fans? I really don’t care. As long as you tell me. ‘Cause I’m as concerned about my health as you are yours.” You say the words with a particular bite to it, making sure to look at him when you use your words against him.

“I haven’t been in any pussy other than your own uptight one for a long time, so good luck on that beef you have with an imaginary woman.” Jungkook spits out before he takes his keys out. “I’ll have dinner delivered to you ‘cause I know you haven’t eaten shit. Until then, I’m heading off. Just text me if you’re staying over at my place or not. I don't care. You have the combination.” 

One you never used. Jungkook's aware of that.

You avoid looking at him. “I'm not.” 

“... Okay.” 

He leaves just like that.

You slump in your seat and shut your eyes close.

[lov3lycosmos]

Ateez's Favorite Sex Positions ❦

Genre: smut MDNI

Pairings: Ot8 (individually) x fem!reader

Warnings: just multiple sex positions, some dirty talk, and very explicit wording

Cosmos note: i was bored and tired so don't mind this lazy/shitty layout...skz one coming soon and I promise I'm working on requests im just a bit slow <3

my library!

Seonghwa — Cowgirl (because he gets to be your throne AND your toy)

Seonghwa loves cowgirl because it’s you on display, and he gets to lay there with that cocky little smile while you ride him like he’s your favorite toy. But don’t be fooled — his hands are on your hips and he’s in control the whole time, just letting you think you’ve got the power. “Look at you,” he’ll whisper, staring up at you like you're art, “Using my cock like that… you gonna make yourself cum, baby?” And if you get all bratty and go slow? He’ll thrust up into you so hard you lose rhythm, grinning as you cry out and fall forward into his chest.

You bouncing on him, hair stuck to your face, tits out, nails clawing at his shoulders? He’s obsessed. He’ll bite your nipple mid-moan, slap your ass, then fuck up into you so good you start shaking. “Thought you were in control, didn’t you?” he’ll pant, pulling you down to kiss you like he’s starving. Best part? He doesn’t stop till you collapse, babbling and leaking down his thighs.

Hongjoong — Missionary (but filthy, slow, and possessive as hell)

People think Hongjoong’s favorite is missionary ‘cause it’s romantic. And sure, it starts soft — a slow grind, one hand cupping your cheek, kissing you like you’re porcelain. But that ends fast. The second he’s in, he’s destroying you in slow motion, hips rolling like he's writing music with your body. He’ll start talking all low in your ear like, “You take me so good. Look at you, baby. So fucking pretty underneath me.” And he loves when your legs wrap around him, trapping him in while he goes deeper, just to make you moan louder.

The filth comes out the second you say his name too breathlessly. Suddenly his hand's on your throat, his rhythm turns punishing, and he's saying "You want it deeper? Louder? Beg then. Go ahead. Let everyone hear who's fucking you like this." And when you do? He’ll smirk, spit in your mouth, and kiss you right after like he’s blessing you. That man’s short but he fucks like he’s 6'5 with a vendetta.

Yunho — Doggy (because he’s deep, dominant, and lowkey feral)

Yunho is the sweetest sunshine man… until you’re on all fours in front of him, ass in the air, begging. Then he’s a menace. He grips your hips like handles, pulls you back on his cock so hard the sound alone would get you banned from public housing. “That’s it, baby,” he pants, breath shaky, “You’re so fucking wet… dripping for me already?” He loves spreading your cheeks to watch himself slide in, and he’ll slap your ass just to hear you whimper.

He gets vocal too — panting your name, saying “So fucking tight… you’re milking my cock, shit,” and going deeper every time you cry out. And when you try to crawl away? Oh, sweetheart. He drags you back by the waist, one hand tangled in your hair, moaning “Where do you think you’re going? You’re not done until I say you are.” Deep strokes. Heavy thrusts. Wet skin. Pillow ruined. You ruined. That’s Yunho’s love language.

Yeosang — Spooning (but slow, dirty, and completely messed up)

Yeosang spooning you is sweet at first — all warmth, kisses to your shoulder, and that soft voice asking, “Can I?” But once he’s in, it's filthy whisper central. His hips move so slow it’s mean, just to feel your walls flutter around him while he rubs your clit in tiny teasing circles. And don’t even try to hide your moans — he’ll laugh, nuzzle your neck, and say “You’re so loud for me. Think the neighbors know who fucks you like this?”

He loves that you can’t escape. Legs tangled, arms wrapped around your waist, his cock buried so deep you swear he’s in your stomach. And when you start shaking? He holds you tighter, whispering filth right in your ear while you fall apart. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Just like that. You’re mine, yeah?” Spooning with Yeosang = slow, possessive overstimulation + full body worship.

San — Standing (because sex is a sport now)

Sex with San when you're standing? It’s pure chaos. One second you’re doing dishes, next second your panties are yanked down and he’s got you pressed to the counter, whispering “Couldn’t wait. Been thinking about this all day.” He loves the strength it takes to keep you steady — gripping your thighs, lifting you just enough, slamming into you like he’s trying to rearrange your guts. You’re trying not to scream, and he’s grinning like the devil.

And the mirror? His favorite tool. He’ll bend you slightly, fuck you while watching your face change in the reflection, and moan, “Look at you… watching me fuck this pretty little body. Don’t close your eyes — I wanna see everything.” Bonus points if your shirt’s still on. He’ll shove it up just to see your tits bounce with each thrust, biting your shoulder as he finishes with a broken, desperate groan.

Mingi — Reverse Cowgirl (because he’s the biggest freak and wants the full show)

Mingi’s a certified ass man. Reverse cowgirl has him in hell (the good kind). You on top, back arched, ass bouncing as you grind down onto his massive cock? He’s gripping the sheets and moaning so loud it’s embarrassing. He lives for that sound of skin-on-skin while he watches himself disappear inside you. “Holy shit, baby… ride it just like that. Fuck, you're perfect.”

And when you start losing your rhythm? He’ll take over, slamming up into you so hard you collapse forward, gasping. “You wanted to ride? Then ride me ‘til you can’t walk.” He’ll spank you mid-thrust, fingers digging into your hips like he’s marking you. When he cums? He’s groaning your name like a prayer, cock twitching while he fills you up, panting “Gonna cum so deep it leaks out for hours…”

Wooyoung — Lotus (because he’s obsessed with body contact and praise)

Lotus is Wooyoung’s heaven. Your legs wrapped around him, arms clinging to his shoulders, while he fucks you slow and deep? Yeah, he’s a mess. “You’re so warm, baby. You feel that? That’s all mine.” He’s rubbing circles into your back, kissing your jaw, and talking nonstop. “Taking me so well. You’re such a good girl for me.” His pace stays steady — hard enough to make your breath stutter, but close enough that you can’t escape his kisses.

And when he gets emotional? He’s moaning “I love you” between each thrust, holding your face and whispering, “I’ll never get tired of this.” But don’t get it twisted — the moment you cum, he’s burying himself to the hilt, groaning “Give it to me, baby. Cum all over this cock.” Then he keeps going through your aftershocks, praising you until you’re crying and shaking in his arms. Like I said — clingy, emotional, and fucking lethal.

Jongho — Full Nelson (because power + control + stretch = his dream)

Jongho might be the quiet one, but when he pulls you into a full nelson — legs up, back arched, arms pinned while his cock slams into you at a downward angle so deep you see stars — it’s game over. He loves how exposed and vulnerable you look beneath him, pussy stretched wide, moaning like you’ve never been touched before. And the sound of you gasping for air while he whispers “Just take it. I’ve got you.” Yeah. He’s obsessed.

His strength lets him hold the position easily, so he’s fucking you dumb without breaking a sweat. “This angle drives you crazy, huh? Bet no one’s ever hit it this deep before.” He’ll smirk when your legs tremble, leaning down to kiss your neck while he keeps going, “I’m not stopping until you give me another one. Cry for me, pretty.” Jongho might be composed outside the bedroom — but inside? He’s turning you into a mess and loving every second.

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[starboye]

toji who fucking ruins you after you want to break up

toji was never the one to get broken up with, he breaks up with his flings not the other way around, so when you told him you wanted to break up he was mad as hell, fuck do you mean you wanna break up with him

he's so mad he just bends you over the couch and starts fucking you to stop himself from doing something worse, arching your back to make sure you feel every inch of his thick rock hard cock "say that again 'cause i dont think i heard you right" he says roughly grabbing your face and turning it towards him

"i said i wanna break up" you choke out, feeling your eyes already rolling to the back of your head, just those words make him slam into you harder than before, your face digging deeper into the couch as your moans reached a higher pitch

"you don't fucking break up with me i break up with you" he grunts, fingers interlocked in your hair pulling your head back with every thrust into you, he was determined at this point, if you wanted to break up with him he'll fuck you so good you wanna stay instead

"yeah you just love this dick, makes you feel so good huh" he asks as if you could even make out what he was saying from his large member ruining your hole "fucking thinking about breaking up with me like you ever could" he mumbles to himself, slapping you back to the present when he sees you going unconcious

"mm mm stay awake for me i want you to feel every inch of this" he demands leaning down to rest his head in the crook of your neck "who's bitch are you" toji asks slapping your ass when you take to long to respond "yours toji im your bitch" you whine, hole clenching around him as the words leave your mouth

"that's right you're all mine forever" his nails dig into your sides as he empties his load into you but that wasn't the end of it, fucking you for the rest of the day for even thinking of speaking such words until you were thoroughly fucked out and couldn't think

your body falling onto the cum stained couch before toji kneels in front of you grabbing your chin for you to properly look up at him "still wanna break up" he asks cocking an eyebrow up "n-no sir" you weakly huff "good boy" toji says