jack draper + friends with benefits + "i don't like sharing" + rough smut
reader plays mixed doubles with jack and they practice together a lot even for single matches and there were always some rumours that they're dating because of that
but recently she's spending more and more time practicing with jannik and he gets jealous and then maybe he confronts her in her hotel room about it being a little bit mean but the reader isnt afraid to be mean back to him then the argument turns into angry sex
anon !!!! this request was so good it sent me into psychosis ….. really hope you liked this as much as i did!!!!
earrings rought smut (MNDI) platinum friends with benefits sapphire “i don’t like sharing”
2,9k words, fem reader (plays mixed doubles and is referred to as girl once), unprotected p in v, angry/jealous sex, fingering, orgasm denial, tiniest bit of overstimulation if you squint
The rumors always started the same way. One of you laughing a little too hard at something the other said, spending an excessive amount of hours on practice courts together, his touch just a bit too intimate when he corrected your serving stance.
By now, you and Jack had grown accustomed to them.
Dating, secretly together, you never bothered to correct anyone. You laughed it off when they’d question you during press conferences.
It really was entertaining when you knew the truth, way easier than trying to explain what you and Jack Draper actually were.
Friends. Friends who kissed sometimes. Friends that would occasionally end up in wrinkly hotel sheets when tournaments ended too late and the adrenaline had nowhere else to go.
You couldn’t point out when it had started, precisely. Mainly because it was nothing serious. Just fun, careless, light fun. No commitment or responsibilities.
It was the same in Cincinnati, a few days before the mixed doubles tournament at the US Open. But, now, the whispers started to shift.
Lately, you found yourself running more and more into Jannik Sinner. He was friends with Jack, so you figured he was cool.
He really was, you found out when you practiced your serve with him for the first time.
So, you started to train with Jannik more often. Mostly because your schedules lined up almost perfectly, partly because he was easy to be around, and you really enjoyed it.
And suddenly the smirks and the headlines weren’t about you and Jack anymore. They were about you and Sinner.
You laughed about it with Jannik. You tried to laugh it off with Jack too, but you quickly realized he didn’t find it that funny.
He didn’t say anything directly, but it was pretty obvious in the way he played against you in drills. Hitting body serves like his goal was to take your head off, jaw locked every time Jannik’s name slipped out of anyone’s mouth.
You didn’t quite make the connection at first. You just thought he might’ve been worried about something else, because it sounded so ridiculous for him to be jealous of Jannik, that you didn’t even consider it.
So you kept practicing with him, until the first round of doubles at the Grand Slam.
Ironically enough, the draw put you and Jack against Jannik and Jasmine Paolini.
It was a fun match, not too long, and you couldn’t help but laugh at every good point or clap at the very extreme saves Jannik managed to make.
You won easily and exchanged friendly hugs at the net. When you hugged Jack, though, you thought he would’ve snapped a couple of your ribs.
That evening you huffed as you jumped into your hotel room bed, hair damp from the shower. Your thin silk robe clung to your body as you scrolled mindlessly through your phone.
The first knock on your door was firm, impatient. It came so out of nowhere that it startled you, and you sat up, tightening your robe.
Before you could even stand up, the knocking turned into thumping on the wooden door, echoing through the hotel hallway.
You scoffed as your bare feet landed on the carpet and you padded over to the door.
You didn’t expect it to be anyone but Jack. You almost smirked, expecting his usual playful grin and the mischievous flicker in his eyes.
You opened the door with a grin. “Hello there. Wasn’t expecting any visitors,” you joked.
Jack stood there with messy hair and a tight shirt. There was no trace of his usual flirty nature, not in his lips tightly pressed together, nor his unusually dark eyes staring down at you.
He didn’t even say ‘hi’ when he pushed past you and invited himself into your room. “Oh, really? Could’ve sworn you were.”
You didn’t quite understand what he meant, but you giggled anyway, smacking his ass when he was right beside you. He froze mid step, head snapping to glare at you.
“You have a remarkable talent for thinking everything’s a fucking game,” he spat, incredulously. “It’s devastatingly annoying.”
You leaned your back against the closed door and you cocked an eyebrow at his comment.
“I’m hardly annoying. I would argue I’m… irresistible, if anything,” you grinned, taking a step towards him, fingertips grazing over his clothed chest. “which explains why you’re always crawling into my room.”
Jack grabbed your wrist, stopping your teasing. He tilted his head, eyes boring into yours.
You rolled your eyes, wiggling your hand out of his grip.
“What’s gotten you so grumpy, big boy?” you were deliberately mocking him now. You sat on your bed, leaning back on your elbows.
Jack tensed before flopping on the edge of the bed next to you, arms crossing against his chest. “Honestly, I don’t even know why I’m letting you get away with half of this shit.”
You turned on your side to face him, propping yourself up on your elbow. You couldn’t quite grasp what he meant.
He looked away from you, and you swore you could practically see smoke coming out of his ears. He looked furious.
“With your stupid attitude. And your desperate little attention seeking demeanor,” he shot you a glare, mean and heavy.
It almost offended you. Almost. But you couldn’t help but chuckle at how unusual and unserious this situation seemed.
“I don’t find any of this fucking funny,” he muttered, standing up. His frame towered over you, menacing and imposing.
“Seriously, what’s gotten into you, teddy bear?” You asked, sitting up to get a better look at his face. He scoffed.
“You don’t like sharing?” you repeated, incredulous. “God, you sound like a child. I don’t even know what the hell you mean.”
“I think you do,” he bit back, leaning over your frame until you were laying once more and his arms caged you. “you’ve been spending an awful lot of time away from me. Been making new friends, apparently.”
You giggled. “What on earth are you on about?” you asked.
One of his hands slipped down, creeping towards the fabric tied at your waist, keeping your robe together. He pulled at it tauntingly.
"Don't act like you don’t know. I don’t like the idea of you… near anyone else.”
Your laugh came out sharp and playful, contrasting with his seriousness. “Near who? Jack, please…”
“You know exactly who I mean,” he snapped, fingers digging at the flesh of your hips. “I’ve seen you, always on court with him. Giggling, touching. I watch and I hate it.”
You swallowed, realization dawning on you, heart racing. “Who, Jannik? Jack, gosh, you’re being ridiculous.”
“I don’t care if I sound ridiculous, I don’t care about anything except this-” he snuck a hand under your robe, pressing it against your bare chest. “-you. And I don’t like watching you act like a slutty teenager with someone else. Not with him, not with anyone else.”
You pressed your hands against his chest, shoving him. The next laugh that left your lips was humorless. He really thought he could talk to you like that?
You stood up, tightening the robe around your frame.
“Well, you’re making a hell of a scene for a grown man who swears this isn’t serious,” you mocked him, tone accusatory.
Jack’s laugh was also bitter, darker than yours. “Do you think I’m joking? You think I’ll just lie back and watch? No. I’m done being nice about it. Done pretending it doesn’t get under my skin.”
He leaned down, face inches from yours, hands grabbing avidly at your sides. “So maybe, you should start reflecting on what you can and cannot do,” one of his hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back. “Because you’re mine.”
You scoffed, hand grabbing at his jaw, pulling him close so he could face you properly. His breath was hot and uneven against you.
Your neatly manicured nails pressed into his skin just enough to sting, and he hissed through his teeth. “Think you can scare me by acting like a jealous asshole? Try harder, Draper. Fucking me a couple of times doesn’t make me yours.”
He let go of you, jaw tensing, tongue poking at his cheek.
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t act like you own me. Or I’ll make sure you know exactly what it’s like to lose control.”
For a beat, you two stood bare centimeters apart, still, quiet, anger pulsing in the air and through your veins.
Jack moved first, lips clashing against yours. The kiss was mean, mouths fighting against one another, teeth clashing.
His mouth left yours only long enough to yank at the knot of your robe, pulling it loose in one violent tug. The silk fell apart under his hands, sliding off your shoulders as he groaned against your throat.
“If you’re not mine,” his teeth scraped against your skin roughly. “Why the fuck do you always let me have you like this?”
You gasped, half from the sting of his bite, half from the way his hands roamed over your bare chest, cupping, squeezing, claiming.
“Don’t flatter yourself too much, Draper,” you gasped, nails digging into the back of his neck, pulling him closer to you.
He let out a low, deep chuckle, lips grazing over your collarbone, hands rough and squeezing like they wanted to leave bruises.
“God, you’re such a cocky little slut,” he spat, voice muffled against your soft skin as he shoved you back onto the bed. “But you fucking love when I ruin you.”
You landed on the mattress with a bounce, but before he could crawl on top of you, you pulled at the hem of his shirt, prompting him to take it off. “Or maybe I just love watching you lose your shit over me,” you taunted, wrapping your legs around his hips, grinding against his hard length.
That completely crumbled his composure. He growled, low and primal, rutting against you through the thin fabric of his sweats. His hand shot down between your thighs, fingers shoving past your panties without hesitation, sliding over the slick head already waiting for him. He smirked at the broken moan that escaped your throat.
He pressed two fingers inside of you, rough and fast from the start. You had to bite back another moan, clawing at his wrist to slow him down, but he only pressed into you harder, watching your features contort with every relentless thrust of his fingers.
“Say it,” he demanded, murmuring with his lips pressed against your ear. “Say you’re mine.”
You arched into him, voice resolute even when broken by your whimpering. “Fuck you. You don’t get to own me.”
Jack shrugged, only picking up his pace. “Then I’ll have to fuck you until you admit it.”
Your whole body was trembling at the roughness of his touch, but you still shook your head. “Not happening.”
Jack’s teeth sank into your neck as he grunted. He pulled his fingers out, ignoring your gasp, and fully shoved your panties to the side. His cock pressed hard against your bare core through the thin barrier of his pants.
“Oh, trust me, you’ll fucking say it,” he muttered, furious, as he freed himself and dragged his tip along your folds, just barely pushing in before pulling away once more. Teasing. Punishing.
Your hand shot to the back of his head, at the hair at the nape of his neck. You tugged on it enough to make him hiss. “Try me, Draper. You can’t control me.”
That did it. He shoved his sweats down and grabbed your thighs, pulling you towards him. He slammed into you in one deep thrust that had you crying out his name.
The stretch was rough, raw, he didn’t pause to give you time to adjust. He set a brutal pace, hips snapping against yours.
“God—fuck. You feel like you were made for me,” he groaned, pressing his lips onto your jaw. “You can talk all the shit you want, but your pussy knows who you belong to.”
Jack’s eyes were dark, almost feral when he tangled his fingers in your hair. He forced you to look at him as he drove into you relentlessly.
“Look at you, dripping all over my cock. Moaning like the fucking whore you are”
You bit back a whimper, grinning wickedly, nails raking down his muscular back hard enough to leave angry red lines.
“If you hate seeing me with Jannik so much,” you gasped through his relentless thrusts. “maybe I’ll just let him fuck me next. See how crazy that makes you.”
His jaw tightened, nostrils flaring, and his body stilled altogether.
That silence was almost worse than his fury.
Then he pulled out of you completely, leaving you empty, clenching around nothing. You let out a long, needy whine.
“Jack-” you started, but the sharp tingle of the hard slap against your thigh cut you off. He massaged the skin roughly, and you were sure you would’ve been able to make out the shape of his palm on it.
“Shut up.” His voice was low, quiet, eliciting shivers from your trembling body.
You opened your mouth to taunt him again, but the words died down in your throat and melted into a cry when his fingers were back on you, rubbing your swollen clit in tight, rough circles.
Your back arched into him again, moan echoing in the hotel room before you could stop it.
“That’s better,” he cooed mockingly. His mouth pressed to one of your nipples, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Moaning, shaking. Exactly how you should be for me.”
You couldn’t reply, couldn’t bite back, when your release was so close you could already taste it. The coil inside you snapped tighter and tighter, body begging for release.
But just as the wave of pleasure washed over you, he ripped his hand away.
“Fuck!” you cried out, fists slamming into the mattress.
Jack smirked cruelly, dragging his fingers over your lips before shoving them into your mouth. “Taste it. Taste how fucking needy and filthy you are.”
Your eyes were venomous, but your tongue betrayed your expression, swirling around his digits like instinct.
He chuckled at your state. “That’s right,” he growled, kissing your jaw messily. “You can’t even help yourself.”
His fingers were back inside of you, curling nastily against the sweet spot that blurred your vision. Your walls clenched around him, and you knew you were just seconds away from the edge again.
But then he stole it from you. Again.
Your scream was ragged this time, half fury, half desperation at being robbed of your orgasm. “You bastard…”
Jack laughed sharply, mouth clashing against yours, his smirk flaunting triumph. “Call me whatever you want. I’m still the one who decides when you get to come.”
He yanked you by the ankles, dragging you to the edge of the bed, spreading you wide. His cock slapped against your soaked folds, teasing, pressing in just an inch before pulling out again. Over and over.
You gasped, grabbing at him desperately, but he pinned your wrists above your head with one large palm, searing against your skin. “No,” he breathed. “You don’t get to take. You’ll get what I fucking give you.”
Tears blurred your eyes from sheer frustration, your whole body tensing to tight it hurt. “Jack, please…”
That single word, that begging voice of yours… it made his smirk split wider. He leaned down, lips brushing against yours as he thrusted into you all the way, deep and bruising.
“There she is,” he cooed, pounding into you so hard to gain squeaky sounds from the bed frame. “Knew I’d have you begging, darling.”
You didn’t know how to respond, body convulsing as he slapped into you relentlessly, never letting up. His fingers found your clit again, forcing the pleasure to engulf you more and more intensely, until you couldn’t hold back anymore.
You shook your head, hands clawing at his biceps. “Jack… please… I’m yours! I’m all yours,” you repeated like a mantra.
“Let go for me, sweet angel,” he whispered into your ear, voice contrasting comically with the punishing pace of his hips.
You were shattering, crying out his name, hands tangled in his hair, as your orgasm ripped through you, violent and consuming.
Even as you trembled and begged, Jack kept fucking you through your orgasm, touch merciless, until the overstimulation had you screaming and writhing in his arms.
“Mine,” he murmured against your neck as you fell apart under him again. “All fucking mine.”
He stilled, spilling himself inside of you. Your body was aching, shaking against the hotel sheets. Every nerve inside of you was buzzing when Jack kissed you again, more gently. He pulled out of you slowly, collapsing at your side, cheeks flushed.
Despite your state, you let out a broken laugh. “You’re insane.”
Jack’s lips cocked into a sly grin. “Oh, no. I’m just really fucking good at proving a point.”
You rolled onto your side, shoving his shoulder gently. You kissed him again, hand brushing over his jaw.
“That’s my good girl,” his voice dripped lower, smug and possessive.
You laughed, smacking his chest, and he caught your wrist with ease, tangling your fingers together.
