content: 18+ [ MDNI!!! ], male reader, submissive top! jake (as always) x dominant bottom! reader, riding jake while he's playing video games with friends, creampie, cumplay, jake lowkey likes being degraded, multiple rounds, reader's hole gets referred to as pussy, they are nastyyy
You know Jake—once he’s locked into a game, he’s laser-focused, headset on, jaw tight, fingers moving fast across the controller. But then there’s you, deciding you’re done being ignored for the sake of Jay, Sunghoon, and Heeseung yelling through the mic.
You straddle his lap, facing him, and he gives you a quick look like—don’t you dare. But his hands already find your hips, because he’s weak for you even when he’s trying to act serious.
“Bro, cover mid!” Heeseung’s voice blasts through the headset. Jake swallows hard, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the TV, but the outline of his cock is already pushing against his sweats.
You slide your hand down, tugging at the waistband, and he stiffens. “M/N, don’t—” he hisses under his breath, though his voice is shaky, betraying just how much he wants it.
“Oh, don’t what?” you whisper, lining yourself up and slowly sinking onto him. His breath catches so hard that Jay immediately calls him out—
“Jake? Yo, you good? You sound like you just got jump-scared.”
He bites down on his lip, clutching your waist as you bottom out on him. “Y-Yeah, I’m good, bro,” he forces out, voice strained. “Just—lag. Bad lag.”
You smirk, rocking your hips, making it nearly impossible for him to keep his composure. “Mm, I think you’re the one lagging.”
Jake glares at you, but his cheeks flush red, his abs tightening every time you grind down on him. The worst part for him? You’re silent, absolutely quiet, like you’re playing your own game against him. No moans, no gasps—just the wicked little smirk that says you’re in control.
Meanwhile, his teammates are screaming through the mic.
“Jake, heal me!” Sunghoon groans.
“Dude, what are you even doing?” Jay yells.
“Are you AFK?” Heeseung demands.
Jake’s head falls back against the couch, his headset slipping slightly. His knuckles go white around the controller as you ride him slow and deep. “F-Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, barely audible, but the mic still picks it up.
“Wait, did you just—?” Jay starts, but Jake instantly cuts the connection, ripping the headset off and tossing the controller aside.
Now it’s just you and him, no distractions. His hands dig into your ass as he starts bucking up into you, rough, needy, desperate. “You’re evil, M/N,” he growls, his voice low and ruined. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me.”
You lean in, lips brushing his ear. “Maybe... Or maybe I just like it when you're trying to stop yourself from acting like a needy dog.”
And just like that, Jake completely loses the game—and himself.
You don’t let him flip you—not yet. You press a hand to his chest, keeping him down, still buried inside you, and smirk.
“Go back to playing,” you whisper, rolling your hips in a slow, sinful grind. “If you win, you get a reward.”
Jake freezes, eyes wide. “M/N… you’re insane.”
“Insanely good at multitasking,” you tease, licking your lip before leaning down to nip his jaw. “Now pick up that controller, puppy. Prove you can focus.”
He swears under his breath, but you see the way his cock twitches inside you—he loves it. With shaky hands, he grabs the controller again, slipping the headset back on.
“Finally, man!” Jay’s voice explodes through the mic. “What the hell happened?”
Jake clears his throat, trying to sound normal while you start bouncing lazily on his lap. “S-Sorry, my, uh… connection dropped.”
You choke on a laugh, muffling it against his neck. Jake shoots you a death glare, but his ears are burning red.
“Cover left flank,” Sunghoon barks.
“Got it,” Jake grits, thrusting his hips upward reflexively as you squeeze tight around him. His voice cracks halfway through, and he has to cough to cover it up.
You lean in, whispering, “You’re so tense, baby. Don’t choke under pressure.”
He growls, his abs tightening under your hands, but he keeps his eyes glued to the screen. You pick up the pace—harder, faster, making his thighs flex beneath you while he struggles to steady his aim in the game.
“Yo, Jake, that was clean!” Heeseung cheers.
“Damn, clutch,” Jay adds.
Jake’s teeth sink into his lip so hard you’re almost sure he’ll bleed. He hisses low enough only you can hear: “If we win this match, I’m going to wreck you so bad you won’t walk tomorrow.”
Your grin turns wicked. “Good. Then you better win, big boy.”
The final minutes are chaos—his teammates are shouting, Jake’s knuckles are white around the controller, and you’re bouncing on him with just enough rhythm to keep him on the edge. He shoots a glance at you, sweat beading at his temple, and you smirk knowingly.
The victory screen flashes. VICTORY.
Jake drops the controller instantly, headset sliding off. He grabs your ass with both hands and slams you down onto him, making you gasp. “Reward time,” he growls, breathless, finally letting himself go rough.
Jake doesn’t even give you a second to breathe. The controller’s forgotten, his headset dangling off the couch as he hauls you down onto his cock with desperate force.
“Fuck—Jake!” you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he rams up into you, his rhythm now feral compared to the teasing grind earlier.
He’s panting, teeth bared, sweat shining along the lines of his jaw. “You… you fuckin’ distracted me the whole game,” he growls, thrusting so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach. “Do you know how hard it was to not—ugh—ruin you while they were all yelling in my ear?”
You gasp, clenching around him on purpose. “You still won, didn’t you?”
Jake snarls, slapping your ass hard enough to make you yelp. “Yeah, and now I’m taking my goddamn prize.”
He grabs your hips, bouncing you rough and fast, his cock sliding wetly in and out of you, each slam making you see stars. You bite your lip to muffle your moans, but Jake notices. His hand shoots up, grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him.
“No,” he pants, eyes blazing. “I wanna hear you. Let them all know you’re mine.”
That breaks something in you. You let go of your restraint, whining and moaning shamelessly, riding him harder, your thighs burning as his cock stretches you open again and again.
“Fucking hell, M/N…” Jake’s voice cracks into a whimper as you tighten around him. He bucks up desperately, his head falling back against the couch, throat exposed, Adam’s apple bobbing.
You lean down, licking and biting along his throat, growling in his ear, “Bet you'd like your friends to hear us. Want them to know just how much I ruin you. Just how much you can't stop yourself from fucking into me like the desperate horny dog you are."
Jake lets out the most broken, high-pitched moan you’ve ever heard from him, his hips stuttering as he grips you so hard you’ll have bruises tomorrow.
“Don’t—fuck—don’t say shit like that, I’ll cum—”
You smirk, biting his lip hard before pulling back, your forehead pressed to his. “Good. Cum in me, baby. Fill me up like you always want to.”
And that’s it. Jake loses it completely, slamming up into you with wild, frantic thrusts. His cock twitches deep inside you as he cries out your name, spilling thick and hot into you, his whole body trembling under yours.
You keep riding him through it, milking him, your own release crashing over you until you’re both shaking, covered in sweat, panting into each other’s mouths.
When it finally slows, Jake’s still inside you, his arms wrapped around your waist like he’s scared you’ll slip away. He kisses your jaw, your neck, your shoulder—messy, desperate little kisses.
“You drive me insane,” he whispers, still breathless. “But fuck, I wouldn’t survive without you.”
You collapse against his chest, both of you sweaty and panting, his cock still buried deep inside you. He’s trembling, arms locked tight around your waist like you’re the only thing keeping him anchored.
For a moment, it’s quiet—just the sound of his ragged breathing against your ear. Then you feel him laugh softly, almost shy.
“Fuck, M/N,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “You always squeeze me like you’re trying to break my dick off.”
You smirk against his skin. “Maybe I am. Wouldn’t want you fucking anyone else with it, right?”
Jake groans, tilting your chin up so you have to look at him. His eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide, still drunk off the high. “As if I’d ever want anyone else. Look at you—ruining me every time.”
When he finally eases out of you, the mess is immediate. His cum spills out, dripping onto his thighs and the couch. Jake stares at it with that hungry, wrecked expression, biting his lip.
“Goddamn…” He presses two fingers against your hole, pushing some of the cum back in while his other hand strokes your hip. “Look at how much you’re leaking. Can’t believe this pussy isn’t made to get pregnant. I’d have you knocked up already.”
You slap his chest lightly, rolling your eyes. “You’re disgusting.”
Jake just grins, smug and filthy, before shoving his fingers into your mouth, making you taste the mix of you both. “Disgusting for you, yeah.”
The taste, the way he’s looking at you—hungry and desperate—makes you groan around his fingers. He pulls them out, only to cup your jaw and kiss you hard, licking into your mouth like he’s trying to taste himself on your tongue.
“You think I’m done with you?” Jake pants against your lips. His cock, still slick and half-hard, twitches against your stomach. “One round isn’t enough. Not when you’re this fucking hot sitting on me.”
You smirk, grinding your ass back against him deliberately. “Then make me regret opening my mouth, Jake.”
That’s all it takes. He grabs your thighs, flips you onto your back on the couch, and lines himself up again. He pushes in with one sharp thrust that has your back arching and a curse spilling from your lips.
“Fuck!” you choke out, clutching his shoulders. His cock stretches you open all over again, the sting addictive. “You’re too big—”
Jake groans, lowering his head to kiss your neck. “Yeah? And you’re too fucking tight. We’re perfect.”
He starts thrusting, slower this time but so much deeper, hitting every spot inside you with precision. Each grind makes you gasp, your nails clawing down his back.
Jake looks down at you, hair falling into his sweaty face, lips red and swollen. “You drive me insane, M/N. You’ll never understand how fucking obsessed I am with you.”
You grab his face, kissing him hard, teeth clashing. “Then show me, Jake. Fuck me like you mean it.”
And he does. Jake slams into you harder with every wordless thrust, sweat dripping from his brow onto your chest as he keeps you pinned beneath him. The sound of skin on skin is obscene, wet and fast, his cock sliding in and out of your messy hole that’s already leaking from the first round.
He smirks against your throat, biting down hard enough to make you yelp. “Not until I’ve fucked you stupid, baby. Not until you can’t even say my name without moaning.”
Your nails dig into his shoulders, but instead of slowing, he only grinds in deeper, rolling his hips until you’re writhing. You clench around him involuntarily, dragging a broken groan out of his throat.
“God, you’re choking my cock,” Jake whines, his voice cracking. “You love it, don’t you? Being stuffed full of me, round after round.”
You meet his thrusts with a shaky smirk. “You’re talking too much—shut up and cum in me again.”
That does it. Jake growls, snapping his hips brutally until he’s spilling another hot load inside you, his whole body shuddering above yours. He kisses you through it, messy and open-mouthed, moaning into your mouth as he empties himself.
But he doesn’t pull out. He stays buried in you, panting against your neck, cock still twitching. You think he’s done—until he shifts his hips and starts moving again, slower this time but relentless.
“Jake!” you gasp, legs trembling. “You can’t—”
“I can,” he pants, grabbing your thighs and folding you in half so he can slam deeper. “I’m not stopping until this couch is ruined. Until I’ve fucked you into the cushions.”
By the third round, you’re biting into his shoulder just to muffle your own screams. He’s lost his shirt, hair plastered to his forehead, abs slick with sweat. He grips your waist and bounces you on him, watching with feral eyes as your hole swallows his cock over and over.
“You’re so fucking hot like this,” he groans. “Look at the way you’re taking me—sloppy and dripping, like you were made for my cock.”
By the fourth round, you’re on top, riding him raw. Your thighs are burning, but the way he’s looking at you—mouth open, whining your name, hands clutching your ass—is addictive. You bounce harder, smirking down at him.
“You like watching me fuck myself on your cock, huh?” you taunt, sweat dripping from your chin onto his lips.
Jake’s voice breaks into a desperate whine. “Yes—fuck, M/N—don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.”
He cums again, shooting so deep you swear you feel it in your gut. He’s trembling, glassy-eyed, chest heaving.
By the fifth round, it’s a blur of sweat, cum, and overstimulation. You’re bent over the armrest, Jake pounding into you from behind, one hand tangled in your hair, the other squeezing your hip hard enough to bruise. Your knees nearly buckle, but his grip keeps you upright.
“Take it,” he growls, his voice hoarse. “Take all of me, baby.”
When he finally empties himself again, both of you collapse into a heap on the ruined couch, your bodies slick, sticky, and trembling. You’re both breathing so hard it feels like you ran a marathon.
Jake kisses your shoulder lazily, still inside you, cum dripping down your thighs. “Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked. “We lost count, didn’t we?”
You groan, burying your face in a pillow. “I can’t feel my legs. If you try to start again, I’m actually killing you.”
Jake laughs, delirious and boyish, nuzzling into your neck. “Fine. But only ‘cause I want you alive to fuck me tomorrow.”
a/n: hiiii i'm backkkk! it's been a while since i've posted. likes, comments, and reblogs are very much appreciated <3
jake makes you jealous on purpose, and you make him regret it in the best way.
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 2.1k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, power bottom!male reader, bratty!jake, jealousy as foreplay, punishment sex, riding, edging, orgasm denial / control, heavy begging, unprotected sex (p in a), veryyyy slight face slapping, dirty talk, crying during sex, creampie, pathetic!jake.
the tension had been a living, breathing thing between you since the very moment jake had thrown that lazy, charming arm around your ex’s shoulders at the bar.
just to 'catch up', he’d said, his brown eyes wide with feigned innocence. but you’d seen the way his hand had lingered, the way he’d leaned in to laugh at something stupid, the way he’d glanced over at you from across the room, a tiny, infuriating smirk playing on his lips.
your boyfriend knew exactly what he was doing, and the fire that had ignited in your gut had burned through the rest of the night, fueling a silence in the car that was louder than any screaming match.
now, the front door of your apartment was barely closed before the atmosphere shifted from simmering to a full-blown inferno. you didn’t speak, you simply turned, your back to the door, and watched him. jake stood in the middle of the living room, all six feet of him looking suddenly smaller under the weight of your stare. his earlier bravado was gone, replaced by a nervous energy that made him shift his weight from foot to foot.
“the fuck was that, jake?” you asked, your voice low and calm. way too calm.
your boyfriend swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing.
“it was nothing. just messing around.”
“messing around,” you repeated, pushing off from the door. you closed the distance between you slowly, each step deliberate. “you think it’s funny to make me watch you flirt with someone else?”
“wasn’t flirting,” jake mumbled.
his brown eyes dropped to the floor, and his shoulders were hunched, that confident, cocky bastard from the bar was now completely gone. in his place was this — a boy who couldn’t even meet your gaze, whose breath was already starting to quicken.
“just wanted to see you… y’know.”
you stopped inches from him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. “see me what?”
jake finally looked up at you, and the raw need in his eyes was honestly staggering; his irises were blown wide, nearly eclipsing the brown.
“see you get mad. see you… care.”
a slow, dangerous smile spread across your face, and you slowly, slowly reached out, your fingers tracing the line of jake’s jaw before gripping his chin, forcing his head up a fraction higher.
“oh, i care, baby. i care a lot,” you leaned in, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “bedroom. now. and you’re going to do exactly what i say.”
a shiver ran through your boyfriend, and it was so intense it was almost a tremor.
“yeah,” he breathed, his voice already strained. “okay.”
the walk to the bedroom was a foregone conclusion. by the time you pushed jake onto the bed, his shirt was already off, discarded somewhere in the hallway, his chest rising and falling in a frantic rhythm. you took your time undressing him, making him lift his hips for you to pull off his jeans and boxers.
jake was already fully hard, his cock flushed and leaking against his stomach, an indication to how much this game of his had already affected him.
you settled yourself on jake’s thighs, pinning him down with just your weight. his hands immediately came up to your hips, fingers digging in.
“you want to act like a brat,” you murmured, leaning over him to grab the lube from the nightstand. “you get treated like one.”
jake breath hitched. “fuck—yes.”
you slicked your fingers, watching his eyes flutter shut as you reached behind yourself to prepare.
your boyfriend was a sight — golden skin flushed pink, dark curls plastered to his forehead, his plush lower lip caught prettily between his teeth. when you finally positioned yourself over him, the head of his cock pressing against your slick, stretched entrance, a desperate whine escaped his throat.
“please,” he gasped, his hips bucking up involuntarily.
you tutted, slapping a hand flat against his stomach.
“uh-uh. i’ll let you know when you can move.”
slowly, agonizingly, you began to sink down.
the stretch was exquisite, a burning fullness that stole your breath for a little second. above you, jake was a masterpiece of restraint; his hands were fisted in the sheets, knuckles completely white, every muscle in his body taut as a bowstring. a guttural groan was ripped from his chest as you took him all the way to the base, your ass flush against his hips.
“fuck, baby,” he choked out, his accent thickening on the last word. “so tight. feel so fuckin’ good.”
you gave yourself a moment to adjust, savoring the way his thighs trembled beneath you. then, finally, you started to move.
it was a slow, deliberate roll of your hips at first, a rhythm designed to torment him. you’d lift yourself almost all the way off, letting just the tip stretch you, before sinking back down with a wet, obscene sound. and each time, jake would let out a punched-out little 'ah', his head thrashing against the pillows.
“look at me,” you commanded.
jake’s eyes snapped open, glazed and desperate. they were fixed on where your bodies connected, watching himself disappear inside you over and over again. a flush crept up his neck, spreading across his cheekbones. he looked wrecked, and you’d only just started.
you changed the angle, leaning forward to brace your hands on his chest, and began to ride him in earnest. you set a brutal pace, slamming yourself down onto him, chasing your own pleasure.
the room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your shared gasps, and the increasingly loud, broken moans falling from jake’s lips.
“oh my god—fuck, fuck, fuck,” jake babbled, his hands flying from the sheets to your hips, his grip bruising. “like that, yeah, just like that, don’t stop—”
his hips unconsciously started to piston up to meet your movements, his control shattering.
you let him for a moment, letting the friction drive you both higher; you could feel jake getting thicker, harder inside you, a telltale sign that he was close. his rhythm became erratic, his thrusts desperate and jerky.
and that’s exactly when you stopped.
you lifted yourself off him completely, completely ignoring jake’s broken cry of protest. he was left on the bed, his cock slick and glistening, twitching against his stomach, his chest heaving.
“did i say you could fuck up into me?” you asked, your voice hard despite your own ragged breathing.
jake’s eyes were wide, wet at the corners.
“no, but—i was so close, please, i need—“
“you need?” you cut him off, straddling him again.
you reached down and wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, squeezing here just hard enough to make him whimper.
“you need to remember who’s in charge here. you think you can pull that shit in public and just get to cum the second you want?”
tears were welling in jake’s eyes now, spilling over and tracking down his temples into his dark hair.
“m’sorry. i’m so sorry. please, just let me—i’ll be good, i swear i’ll be so good.”
you leaned down, your lips brushing against the salty tracks on his cheek. “oh, i know you will.”
you repositioned yourself and sank back onto him with one swift, brutal thrust.
the sound jake made was something between a sob and a scream, his back arching off the bed. you didn’t give him a second to recover; you started riding him again, harder this time, using your leverage to pound yourself onto him with a relentless fury.
jake’s composure was completely gone.
his accent, usually a soft, charming lilt, had thickened to a drawl so heavy it was almost unintelligible, each word dragged out of him on a sob.
“fuckin’ hell—can’t—too much, it’s too fuckin’ much,” he gasped, his hands scrabbling at your thighs, your hips, trying to slow you down or pull you closer, you couldn’t tell. “gonna—i’m gonna cum, i can’t—please, let me come, please, i’ll do anythin’.”
“no,” you said simply, slowing your pace to a deep, grinding swirl that made his eyes roll back. “you don’t get to cum until i say so.”
jake let out a sound of pure anguish, his head lolling to the side. his cock was pulsing inside you, impossibly hard, and you could feel every desperate throb.
you leaned back, bracing your hands on his knees for better leverage, and began to bounce on him again, taking him fast and shallow, letting the head of his cock slam against your prostate with every movement.
“oh, fuck—!” he screamed, his whole body seizing. “it’s right there, it’s fuckin’—i’m gonna—i’m gonna cum, you gotta let me, please, baby, please, please, please—“
jake was crying in earnest now, tears and snot mixing on his face, but he didn’t look anything but beautiful.
his pleas were a litany, a desperate prayer offered up to you. his accent was so thick you could practically taste it, wrapping around each word like honey.
“stoppin’ me,” jake begged, his voice cracking. “you’re fuckin’ killin’ me ‘ere. can’t take it. need it. need to cum so bad, i’ll fuckin’ die if i don’t. please, love, please.”
you reached forward and wrapped your hand around his throat, squeezing the slightest bit, feeling the frantic pulse of his heartbeat under your palm. with your other hand, you slapped him lightly across the face, just a sharp crack that made his eyes widen and his hips jerk.
“look at you,” you said, grinding down on him, holding him deep inside you. “so pathetic. you wanted my attention so bad? you have it. every. single. inch. of it.”
a high-pitched, keening whine left jake’s lips. his entire body was trembling violently, a fine tremor that shook the bed. jake was being held at the very edge, a hair's breadth away from falling, and you were the only thing keeping him from the plunge.
you leaned forward again, your face inches from his.
“you’re going to cum inside me,” you whispered, your rhythm finally faltering as your own climax began to build, a pressure coiling hot and tight in your belly. “but only when i tell you to. understand?”
jake nodded frantically, a jerky, desperate motion.
“yeah, anythin’. just tell me when. tell me when, please.”
you started moving again, a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm driven by the need for your own release.
you rode him hard, chasing the feeling, his desperate gasps and sobs a symphony in your ears. you could feel jake’s cock twitching, pulsing, his balls drawn up tight against your ass. he was holding on by the sheer force of his will, his face a mask of anguished ecstasy.
“now,” you gasped, the coil snapping as your own orgasm crashed through you, your inner walls clenching down on him like a vice. “now, jake. cum.”
the single word was jake’s undoing.
a raw, guttural shout was torn from his chest, his back bowing off the bed as he finally, finally let go. you felt the first hot pulse of his release deep inside you, then another, and another. he came so hard his entire body seized, his hands fisting in the sheets hard enough to tear them, his hips jerking up into you with each spasm.
jake’s mouth was open in a silent scream, tears still streaming down his face, and his accent was just a raw, guttural blur of sound that might have been your name.
he kept coming, more than you thought possible, jake’s cock was desperately pulsing inside you until he was completely spent, his body going limp beneath you. his chest was heaving, his eyes closed, his pretty face tear-streaked and utterly wrecked.
you stayed seated on jake for a long moment, letting him catch his breath, feeling the last aftershocks ripple through his body. finally, you lifted yourself off, collapsing onto the bed beside him. a trail of his release followed, warm and sticky against your skin.
the silence in the room was heavy, broken only by jake’s ragged breathing.
after a minute, jake turned his head on the pillow, his brown eyes finding yours; they were puffy and red-rimmed, but there was a deep, boneless satisfaction in them, a look of pure, utter contentment.
a small, wobbly smile touched his lips. jake’s voice was a wrecked, hoarse whisper, the aussie drawl still clinging to the edges of his words.
“so… d’you reckon that makes us even, or…?”
you couldn’t help it; a laugh burst out of you, breaking the last of the tension. you reached over, brushing the damp curls off jake’s forehead, your touch gentle now.
“not even close,” you murmured, leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of jake’s swollen mouth. “but i guess it’s a good start.”
what a better idea than kissing your best friend on valentine’s day for a 50% discount?
❛ content 2.7k words, male reader, best friends to lovers, fake dating kinda, fluff, mutual pining, romcom vibes, both of them being sooo cute & awkward, multiples kisses.
the february air biting at your cheeks is a small price to pay for the annual tradition — valentine’s day. well… not that either of you care about the whole romance thing, but you do care about the 50% discount at burgers & shakes, and that’s basically the same thing.
love is just a chemical reaction, but a delicious double cheeseburger with extra bacon? that’s real.
“bro, i’m telling you, we’ve got this,” jake says, bumping his shoulder against yours as you approach the glowing red-and-pink storefront.
the windows are plastered with paper hearts and a lots of little cupids, and inside you can already see multiples couples sharing milkshakes with two straws, holding hands across sticky tables.
jake sim — jaeyun, technically, but he’d introduced himself as jake on the first day of uni and it just stuck — is walking beside you with the kind of easy confidence that usually gets him out of trouble and you into it.
he’s got his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his oversized denim jacket, dark hair swept back from his forehead, and there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth that you know all too well. it’s the same grin he wore before convincing you to sneak into the cinema last month, and before that, when he talked you into doing karaoke even though you can’t carry a tune.
jake is a little taller than you. well, not by much — maybe two or three centimetres — but it’s just enough that when he looks at you from this angle, his head tilted slightly down, his brown eyes catch the warm light from the restaurant and turn almost amber.
“we absolutely do not have this,” you say, because one of you has to be the voice of reason. “we are the two worst liars on the planet. you laughed during that presentation about sustainable agriculture.”
“that was because the word 'compost' sounds funny,” he protests. “and this isn’t lying. this is… performance art. method acting.”
“method acting that requires us to—”
“kiss, yeah,” he says it like you’re discussing the weather, like it’s no big deal.
but jake’s ears are pink, though. you notice because you’ve known him for years and you’ve catalogued every single one of his tells. the ears give him away every time.
“it’s just a kiss, bro. people do it all the time. it’s, like, a normal human activity.”
“people in love,” you clarify.
“people in love, people in france, people saying goodbye at airports—it’s a whole spectrum,” jake waves a hand vaguely. “we’re just borrowing one tiny slice of that spectrum. for economic purposes.”
you want to point out that the discount is not even that much, but that’s not really the point anymore.
the point is that this is stupid. the point is that it’s also kind of funny. the point is that jake is looking at you with that particular expression — half challenge, half plea — and you’ve never been able to say no to him.
“fine,” you sigh. “but if we get arrested, i’m telling them you planned the whole thing.”
“deal.”
the bell above the door chimes as you push it open.
the restaurant smells like hot oil and salt and something artificially sweet, and the valentine’s decorations are even more aggressive up close; pink streamers hang from the ceiling, a cardboard cutout of a smiling couple shares a giant plastic fry.
there’s also a sign propped up on the counter;
♡ couple’s special ♡ 50% off when you prove your love! just ask our staff! ♡
“okay,” jake mutters under his breath. “okay, we’re doing this. we’re normal. we’re a normal couple. what do normal couples do?”
“they don’t usually plan it out loud,” you whisper back.
“right. right. okay. i’m just gonna—” he reaches over and slides his hand into yours.
jake’s palm is warm, way warmer than you expected, or maybe you just weren’t prepared for the actual weight of it, the way his fingers naturally slot between yours like they’ve done this a hundred times before. his thumb rests against your knuckle, and you can feel the faint callus from where he plays guitar.
you both stand there for a second, frozen, staring down at your joined hands.
“this is fine,” jake says, his voice is slightly higher than usual. “this is normal couple behavior.”
“yeah,” you agree. “very couple. very normal.”
but you’re still not moving.
a family with a toddler pushes past you toward the booth section, and you both immediately jerk apart like you’ve been caught doing something illegal.
“okay,” jake breathes. “okay. let’s just—let’s just order.”
the girl at the counter has her hair tied up in a very pretty little heart-shaped scrunchie and a nametag that reads mika. she’s maybe nineteen, and she’s already smiling at you both with the particular brightness of someone who’s worked a valentine’s day shift before and is determined to make it bearable.
“hi there! what can i get for you two today?”
jake steps up to the counter, and you can easly see him physically shift into performance mode; his shoulders square up, and his aussie accent gets slightly more pronounced — it always does when he’s nervous or excited, thickening around the edges like honey.
“yeah, hey, we’ll have the double cheeseburger meal, large fries, and uh—” jake glances at you. “strawberry milkshake?”
“strawberry milkshake,” you confirm.
“strawberry milkshake,” he repeats to mika. “and also the deluxe chicken burger meal, large fries, and an ice tea.”
mika taps at the screen.
“okay, that’ll be—oh, wait!” her face lights up. “are you guys celebrating valentine’s day? because we have our couple’s discount going on right now.”
jake’s grip on the counter tightens slightly.
“y-yeah,” jake says very weirdly. “we are. celebrating. together. as a couple.”
the words tumble out of him all at once, and mika blinks. her gaze slowly flicks between the two of you — jake’s flushed cheeks, and your very intense study of the menu board just behind her.
“that’s so sweet!” she says, and she genuinely sounds like she means it. “i just need to see a quick kiss, and then i’ll apply the discount.”
“right,” jake says. “a kiss. quick one. got it.”
he turns to face you.
for a moment, neither of you make a move. the restaurant noise fades into a dull hum — the fryer sizzling, a baby crying somewhere, the low thrum of a trending pop song about love and longing.
jake is looking at you with something unreadable in his expression, and you realize you’re both still standing about two feet apart, which is not very couple-like at all.
“okay,” he says quietly. “ready?”
you nod. your mouth is suddenly very dry.
jake steps closer.
the space between you collapses; you can smell jake’s cologne — something clean and woody, the same one he’s worn since second year, the one you once told him smelled nice and he pretended not to care but definitely started wearing more often. you can also see the faint freckle under his left eye, the tiny scar on his chin from when he tripped over his own feet freshman orientation.
jake’s breath hitches; just slightly, and then, suddenly, his lips are on yours.
it’s very quick — barely a second. it’s simply a soft press of warm, dry skin against skin, chapped from the february wind. jake’s nose bumps yours awkwardly, and his hand finds your elbow, steadying himself, and you make a small sound against his mouth that might be surprise or might be something else entirely.
jake pulls back.
mika is watching with her chin propped on her hand, clearly charmed. “aww. okay guys, discount applied! your total is—”
“wait,” jake says.
you both look at him.
jake’s ears are fully red now, adorably so, the colour spreading down his neck. he’s not looking at mika, he’s looking directly at you, and there’s something new in his eyes — something searching.
“that was really, really fast,” jake says. “i think we should—i mean, she might not have seen it properly. like… it was really fast.”
“i saw it,” mika says. “it was cute. you’re good.”
“but maybe we should do it again,” jake continues, like she hasn’t spoken at all. “just to be safe. you know—for the discount.”
oh, you know exactly what he’s doing. you know because you’re thinking the exact same thing, and you don’t have a good explanation for it except that his mouth was softer than you expected, and it only lasted a second, and you want to know what it feels like when it’s not rushed and clumsy and nervous.
“yeah,” you hear yourself say. “just to be safe.”
mika shrugs. “i mean, i don’t really need—”
but you’re already stepping forward.
this time, you’re the one who closes the distance, and jake’s eyes widen slightly, and then they just flutter shut, and then your lips are meeting again and it’s nothing like the first kiss at all.
this kiss is slower, more conscious.
you slowly tilt your head to avoid the nose-bumping situation, and somehow that brings you even closer, your mouths fitting together properly. jake’s hand slides from your elbow to your waist, his fingers curling into the fabric of your hoodie. yours finds its way to his shoulder, then up, your thumb brushing the side of his neck where his pulse is rabbiting away.
jake’s lips part slightly, just barely, and just enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, the soft wet heat of his mouth. you press closer without thinking, and he makes a sound — a tiny, barely audible sound, swallowed by the space between you.
this isn’t a quick kiss; damn it, this isn’t a performance.
this is jake’s hand sliding around to the small of your back, pulling you in until your chests are touching. this is your fingers threading into the hair at the nape of his neck, soft and slightly tangled. this is his lips moving against yours like he’s trying to memorize the shape of them, tentative and searching and so, oh so gentle.
the milkshake machine hums. someone laughs in the background. mika has gone very quiet.
when you finally break apart, you’re both breathing harder than you should be.
jake’s cheeks are completely flushed, his lips slightly pinker than before, and he’s looking at you like you’ve just rewritten the laws of physics.
“okay,” he whispers. “yeah. that was—okay.”
you don’t say anything. you can’t. your heart is doing something complicated in your chest, and your lips are tingling, and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how close he still is, his hand still pressed against your lower back.
“your total is fourteen fifty,” mika says, slightly strained.
neither of you moves.
“fourteen fifty,” she repeats, louder. “for the food. that you ordered.”
“right,” jake says. he doesn’t let go of you. “food. yes.”
you don’t let go of him either; his hair is still wrapped around your fingers, and it’s very soft.
“i think,” you say slowly. “we should make sure the discount definitely applied.”
“yeah,” jake agrees immediately. “yeah, we should definitely check. thoroughly. for accuracy.”
“i already applied it,” mika says. “it’s applied. you can see it right here on the screen.”
but you’re not looking at this damn screen.
you’re looking at jake, and he’s looking at you, and there’s a moment of silence where something passes between you — something that’s been there for years, probably, buried under late-night study sessions and shared takeout and the time he held your hand during a horror movie and neither of you mentioned it afterward.
“one more time,” jake breathes. “just to be sure.”
you nod.
and oh, this kiss is very different.
this one isn’t tentative or searching; this one knows exactly what it wants.
jake’s hand presses more firmly against your back, drawing you flush against him, and you go willingly, eagerly, your fingers tightening in his hair. his lips are soft and warm and they move against yours with a confidence that wasn’t there before, parting yours easily, and suddenly you can taste him — slightly sweet, like the mint gum he was chewing earlier.
your free hand slides up his chest; you can feel his heartbeat through the layers of his jacket and hoodie, fast and steady. his fingers curl into the hem of your hoodie, just barely touching the skin of your lower back, and the contact sends a shiver up your spine.
jake tilts his head, and the angle deepens; his lips part further, and yours do too, and suddenly the kiss is open-mouthed and warm and achingly tender. his breath mingles with yours, his nose brushes your cheek. you can feel him smiling against your mouth, just slightly, like he can’t help it, and you realize you’re smiling too.
this isn’t for the discount. this isn’t for mika or the 50% off or the double cheeseburger with extra bacon.
this is because jake’s mouth fits against yours like it was made to, because his hand on your back feels like home, because you’ve been his best friend for years and you’ve never once thought about kissing him until tonight and now you can’t think about anything else.
you completely lose track of time.
the restaurant fades away; there’s only jake — the solid warmth of him, the soft little sounds he makes when you tug gently at his hair, the way his thumb traces absent patterns on your skin.
“okay,” mika says loudly. “okay—i believe you. you two are definitely a couple. please just stop kissing so i can give you your food.”
you break apart slowly.
your lips feel swollen, and jake’s are definitely red now, and his hair is a mess where you’ve been running your fingers through it. he’s looking at you with dark, dazed eyes, and his chest is rising and falling quickly.
“sorry,” jake says, not sounding sorry at all. “we just—really wanted the discount.”
mika slides the tray across the counter. her expression is caught somewhere between amused and traumatized.
“yeah. i could tell.”
you take the tray. your hands are shaking slightly.
jake’s fingers find yours under the counter, intertwining like it’s the most natural thing in the entire world, and this time neither of you pulls away.
you find a booth in the corner, away from the other couples. the milkshake is cold and sweet, and the fries are perfectly salted, and jake is sitting across from you with his knee pressed against yours under the table.
for a long moment, neither of you mentions the kissing. neither of you mentions the way you kept holding hands all the way to the booth, or the way his thumb is still stroking slow circles over your knuckles.
you eat your burger. jake eats his. the pop song changes to another one about love.
“hey,” jake says eventually, not looking up from his fries. “that was—i mean. the kissing. that was…”
“yeah,” you say. “it was.”
jake glances at you through his lashes, and his cheeks are still really pink.
“did you… like it?”
you think about lying; you think about making a joke, deflecting with something stupid, pretending this was all just a bit of fun. you think about the way his lips parted under yours, the sound he made when you pulled him closer, the way his hand felt on your back.
“yeah,” you say honestly. “i really liked it.”
he exhales slowly. his knee presses harder against yours.
“me too,” jake says timidly. “like, a lot. more than i thought i would.”
the silence stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. it’s full — of everything you haven’t said yet, everything you’re both suddenly realizing.
“we should do this again,” jake says. “not the—i mean, yes the kissing, but also—this,” he gestures vaguely at the booth, at the food, at the two of you. “hanging out. but also maybe the kissing. if you want.”
“i want,” you say, and your voice comes out steadier than you feel. “if you want.”
jake smiles. it’s a real, sincere smile; not his usual teasing grin — but soft and open and a little bit nervous.
“yeah. i want.”
outside, the february wind is still cold. the restaurant is still full of couples sharing milkshakes and holding hands, but now you’re one of them, sort of, maybe, and jake’s hand hasn’t left yours since you sat down.
“hey,” he says, picking up his burger. “next year, we should do this again—for the discount.”
you laugh. “we don’t need the discount. we’re not actually a couple.”
jake looks at you for a long moment, and his eyes are so warm, the colour of honey in the low light.
“yeah,” he says softly. “we’re not.”
but his fingers stay intertwined with yours, and neither of you lets go for the rest of the meal.
SUMMARY : a petty fight on the drive home from a party gets heated enough for your boyfriend, jake sim, to pull over. things don’t exactly cool down after that.
CONTAINS : smut, top!jake, bot!reader, jealous reader, fuckboy-ish jake, banter (ofc), bj (r. recieving), car sex
WORD COUNT : 2.686k
your drive home was supposed to be quiet. supposed to be. instead, it’s jake humming along to some dumb trending pop song, drumming his fingers on the wheel like he didn’t just spend the last two hours acting like .
“what’s wrong with you?” you mutter, arms crossed tight. “like, genuinely. do you think i like watching you grind on people like i’m not even there?”
jake scoffs playfully, eyes flicking back to the road. “grind? i wasn’t grinding on anyone.”
“you had your hands all over her.”
“i was helping her find the kitchen.”
you sound bitter. “with your hand on her waist?”
he smirks. “hey, i’m a hands on guy.”
you slap his arm, more reflex than anything. “you’re such an asshole.”
he laughs, like actually laughs, which you swear makes you one step closer to fully snapping. “you’re overreacting. seriously. i was just talking to people.”
“sure you were," you say sarcastically, "you were eating it up, the attention, the flirting, all of it. you love it.”
his smirk rises, that little dangerous curl of his mouth. “and you don’t?”
“i don’t like my boyfriend look like a fucking idiot. like a fuckboy.”
that shuts him up for half a second, and you think maybe you won something... until he shakes his head, smirk sliding right back in place. “god, you’re cute when you’re jealous.”
your whole body tries its best not to strangle him right now. “don’t call me cute right now.”
“what? it’s true.” he leans back, one hand loose on the wheel, the picture of smug comfort. “you get this little pout, all defensive. makes me wanna—”
“pull over so i can walk home.” you snap.
his tongue pokes his cheek with that smirk, like he’s holding back another laugh. “so dramatic.”
“stop saying that!” you shove at his shoulder this time, the car swerving slightly as he chuckles.
“what, i can’t tell the truth?”
you glare daggers at him, heat rising in your throat. “you’re so full of yourself.”
“and yet,” he says slowly, eyes cutting toward you, “you’re the one all worked up over me.”
that’s it. you can’t take the smugness, the little smirk, the way he’s so calm while you’re fuming. disbelief spilling over into anger. “worked up? oh my god, you’re insane. i’m pissed, jake. there’s a difference.”
he tilts his head, smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “pissed because someone touched your pretty boy?”
“shut the fuck up,” you snap, even if he is a little bit right. “i don’t care if someone touches you. i care when you let them.”
“so you do care.” his grin widens, triumphant.
you groan loud, dragging both hands through your hair. “you twist everything i say.”
he shrugs, like the steering wheel isn’t between his hands and your patience. “i just think it’s funny. you act all cold at the party, ignoring me, and now you’re foaming at the mouth ‘cause i smiled at someone.”
“jake. you didn’t just smile,” you shoot back. “you leaned down, whispered in her ear like—like—”
“like what?” his tone sharpens just a little, though the smirk doesn’t fall. “like i wanted her?”
you hesitate, pulse racing. “yeah. exactly like that.”
he exhales, amused. “baby, if i wanted her, i wouldn’t have left with you.”
“oh, congratulations,” you bite. “you came home with your boyfriend. what a fucking saint.”
that makes him laugh again, low and delighted, which is the worst possible response.
“you’re ridiculous,” you mutter, crossing your arms so tight it hurts.
“and you’re jealous.”
you snap your head toward him, eyes wide. “say jealous one more time—”
he smirks, eyes on the road. “jealous.”
that’s it. you can’t take the smugness, the little smirk, the way he’s so calm while you’re fuming.
“you’re such a fucking child,” you spit, voice sharp enough to cut.
jake’s laugh is low, smug, deliberate. “say that again.”
before you can snap back, the blinker clicks, and the car swerves off the road. tires crunch against gravel as he kills the engine, plunging everything into a buzzing silence.
you blink at him, chest heaving. “what the fuck are you—”
his hand shoots across the console, grabbing the lever at your side, yanking it so your seat jolts back with a squeal. before you can react, he’s shoving the chair down, reclining it until you’re half-sprawled, pressed against cool leather.
he’s leaning over you now, braced on one arm, breath hot against your mouth. “say it again.”
your pulse hammers. you glare up at him, jaw tight. “fuck you and your smag ass personality.”
his grin sharpens. “aww, you wanna fuck me?”
then he’s kissing you, hard, bruising. it’s messy, desperate, like every insult in the car condensed into heat and teeth. you hate how fast you melt into it, how your hand fists in his hoodie instead of pushing him away.
he drags his tongue along your teeth, groaning when you bite down too sharp. “still mad, huh?”
“don’t act like this fixes anything,” you snap, voice catching when his thigh shoves between yours, pressing you open.
he smirks, grinding his hips down against you, the console creaking with the force. “then don’t act like you don’t love it.”
you shove at his chest, but it’s weak, traitorous. “you're an asshole.”
“and you’re hard,” he shoots back, one hand sliding down your stomach, groping you through your jeans. his palm presses slow, teasing, until your breath stutters. “so which one of us looks stupid now?”
“still you,” you bite out, even as your hips roll up into his hand.
he laughs, low and wrecked, like he can’t believe how much this turns him on. “god, you’re hot when you’re petty.”
your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard. he groans, smirk never faltering, and dives down to mouth at your neck. the wet drag of his tongue makes your eyes flutter, but you grit your teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a moan.
“gonna be quiet for me now?” he murmurs against your skin. “after all that yelling?”
“maybe i just don’t wanna hear your voice anymore.”
jake pulls back, eyes glinting in the dim dashboard light. “i'll just wait till you do.”
before you can retort, his hand slips under your waistband, fingers wrapping around you. you choke on a gasp, back arching against the seat.
“fuck—”
he grins, stroking slow, deliberately teasing. “there’s the sound i wanted.”
you bite your lip so hard it hurts, glaring at him even as your hips jerk up. “don’t... give yourself the credit”
he laughs while his wrist twists, pumping you with maddening rhythm. “oh, i’ll take the credit. all of it.”
your nails dig into his shoulders, grounding yourself against the way your body betrays you. he shifts lower, mouthing down your chest, fumbling your jeans open with one hand.
“gonna let me take care of you?” he asks, voice mocking but soft.
“just shut up and do it,” you snap.
his grin widens. “so bossy.”
but he does. he drags your pants down, pressing kisses to your stomach, slow and messy. his hair brushes your skin as he works his way lower, until his mouth is on you, hot and wet and perfect.
you curse loud, head hitting the seat. your hand shoots down to grip his hair, tugging hard. he groans around you, the vibration making you buck.
“hate you,” you gasp, even as your thighs tremble.
he pulls back, lips slick, smirk devastating. “funny way of showing it.”
before you can answer, he’s back down, taking you deeper, throat working. you swear your vision goes white for a second, breath catching on a broken moan.
your petty resolve cracks with every drag of his tongue, every swallow. you’re still glaring, but it’s weak now, desperate.
he pulls off again just long enough to breathe, “say it. say you hate me.”
your chest heaves, words spilling before you can stop them. “i hate you—fuck—”
he groans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard, dives back down harder, faster, until your whole body’s shuddering. your grip in his hair tightens, thighs shaking around his head, chest heaving like you can’t get enough air.
he pulls off with a wet gasp, lips slick, chin shining, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “look at you,” he pants, grinning. “falling apart already.”
you’re flushed, breathing ragged, still glaring down at him. “don’t think this cancels out what you were doing back there.”
jake tilts his head, hair falling into his eyes, smirk sharp as ever. “what was i doing?”
“stop playing dumb, jake.” your voice cracks when his hand slides back up your thigh.
his grin widens, fingers ghosting over you again, maddeningly light. “i was being polite.”
you groan, dragging a hand down your face, half-delirious and still pissed. “you were being an whore.”
“maybe,” he mutters, pressing two fingers inside you without warning, “but you’re still letting a fingerin.”
your breath stutters, eyes fluttering. “fuck—”
“yeah,” he says, watching your face like he’s starving. “keep talking, i like it.”
you try, words strangled as his fingers curl. “you should’ve just— kept your hands to yourself.”
he leans up, mouth hot against your ear. “want me to keep them here instead?”
you don’t answer fast enough, back arching as he separates the fingers, and his laugh is low and smug. “thought so.”
the seat squeals as he shoves it farther back, crowding over you, braced between your thighs. the moment his cock drags against you, both of you groan.
“still holding that grudge?” he teases, lining himself up.
you glare, jaw tight, even as your body pushes toward him. “if you take your time, i’ll start listing names.”
his smirk nearly splits his face. “jesus. that's hot.”
then he pushes in, slow but relentless, and your words cut off in a sharp cry. your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in.
“fuck,” jake groans, head dropping against your neck. “you’re unreal.”
your breath stutters, back arching into him despite yourself. “don’t sugar talk me now.”
he pulls back, thrusts forward hard enough to rock the car on its axles. “who said i was sugar talking?”
you bite your lip, half a glare, half a moan. “just... shut up and move.”
and he does, grinning against your skin, hips snapping faster, deeper, like he can fuck the fight right out of you
the rhythm builds fast, jake driving into you hard enough to make the whole car creak. sweat sticks his shirt to his back, windows slightly fogging with every groan and gasp.
your fingers dig further into his shoulders, and you manage to choke out, “you better not think this means i’m over it.”
jake laughs, breathless, grinding deeper until you can’t keep the sound in your throat. “baby, you could still be yelling at me and i’d eat it up.”
you want to roll your eyes, maybe spit another comeback, but the way he angles his hips steals the thought. instead, you end up clinging harder, your legs trembling around his waist now, you pray anyone driving wont notice the shaking car.
he notices, ofcourse. he always does. “there it is,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “knew i’d find it.”
you bite back the whine threatening to slip out, gritting your teeth. “smug bastard.”
he kisses your jaw, sloppy and hot, smirk curving against your skin. “keep calling me names. i’ll make you scream them.”
the car rocks harder, rhythm messy now, both of you sweating and swearing. you try to hang onto the grudge like it gives you some control, but your body betrays you, arching into him, clenching around him.
jake’s groan is harsh. “fuck... you’re not mad, you’re obsessed.”
you glare, even as your moan exposes you. “don’t flatter yourself.”
the sound in the car is obscene now, skin slapping, the slide of sweat, your broken gasps. you’re too far gone to keep up the act.
“jake—” it rips out of you, raw and desperate, more plea than accusation.
his forehead presses to yours, thrusts sharp, relentless. “cum with me. right here.”
your legs lock around him, dragging him in deeper, and the fight you’d been clinging to unravels in a single messy rush. your body seizes as you cum, gasping against his mouth.
he curses, low and ragged, chasing it. three more brutal thrusts and he’s coming too, hot and heavy inside you, hips grinding until he’s wrung out.
the car goes quiet but for the ringing of your breaths. windows slightly dripping condensation, both of you wrecked.
jake collapses forward, chest heaving against yours, then starts to laugh, soft and smug. “still mad?”
you shove at his shoulder weakly, glaring even as your body refuses to let him go. “don’t talk to me.”
he kisses your neck anyway, lazy and warm. “you say that all the time.”
you close your eyes, trying not to melt into him, trying not to give in to the comfort sneaking in under the haze. “next time you flirt with someone, i’m keying your car.”
he grins against your skin, too satisfied to argue. “worth it.”
jake eventually pulls out with a hiss, the sudden emptiness making you shiver. he leans over you, presses a kiss to your jaw, lazy and smug, before finally climbing back into the driver’s seat. the car creaks under the shift.
the engine rumbles to life, headlights carving out the empty road ahead. jake cracks the window and lights up, the faint scratch of his lighter filling the quiet before smoke curls into the night.
you fix your clothes in silence, still fuming on principle, even though your legs are trembling and your pulse hasn’t caught up. you turn your face toward the window, pretending the empty road is more interesting than him.
“so quiet all of a sudden,” jake says, exhaling smoke with a grin in his voice. “kinda suspicious.”
you scoff, crossing your arms. “don’t flatter yourself. i just don’t feel like talking.”
“mm.” he taps ash out the window, glancing at you sidelong. “you don’t not feel like talking. you’re holding onto your little grudge ‘cause it makes you feel powerful.”
your jaw tightens. “would that include making you sleep on the curb tonight.”
he laughs, warm and throaty, like the idea doesn’t scare him at all. “please. you’d last five minutes without me before crawling back.”
you glare at him, but the heat behind it is softer now, dulled by exhaustion and the buzz still fizzing in your veins. “you’re impossible.”
“and irresistible,” he shoots back instantly, grin spreading across his face.
you groan, dragging a hand over your face. “god, shut up.”
but then he flicks ash out the window, voice dropping just a little. “seriously, though… why would i go for anyone else? i’ve got the world’s best ass sitting right here.”
you whip your head toward him, giving him a side eye, but your chest warms anyway. “you’re disgusting.”
he smirks around the cigarette. “disgusting and loyal. can’t beat that combo.”
the corner of your mouth twitches annoyingly close to a smile. you turn back to the window to hide it, watching streetlights blur past as the smoke swirls between you.
jake drives one-handed, other arm draped out the window, humming some half-remembered tune under his breath. the road hums steady beneath you, and bit by bit the tension bleeds out of your shoulders.
he glances over once, catches the way you’re leaning into the seat now, not rigid anymore. “see? told you we’d be fine.”
you huff, still clinging to the last scraps of your grudge. “don’t get used to it.”
“too late,” he says, grinning as he takes another drag. “i already did.”
the silence that follows isn’t heavy this time. it stretches comfortable, the air thick with smoke and leftover heat, and when jake reaches over at the next red light to squeeze your thigh, you don’t push him away.
you just sigh, soft and surrendering, and let the hum of the engine carry you both the rest of the way home
jae's note ! a little thing i was writing for a while and took a bit to get out. currently in the midterm season so will try to fulfill the poll's results sometime soon!
— riding your boyfriend out of jealousy [ sim jaeyun ]
content: 18+ [ MDNI!!! ], male reader, submissive top! jake x dominant bottom! reader, multiple rounds and creampies, cowgirl, 69, possesive reader, jake is a pathetic puppy, filthy
You were bouncing on his cock like you had something to prove, nails scraping down his chest hard enough to leave marks. Jake was already panting, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead, his eyes glassy as he stared up at you like you were a god he’d been begging his whole life to worship.
“Mine,” you growled, sinking down hard enough to make him whimper. “She was looking at you like you belonged to her. Touching you like she fucking owned you.”
Jake shook his head frantically, breath hitching when you clenched around him. “No, no, baby—fuck—never. I don’t want her. I don’t even fucking see her.” His hands gripped your waist like he was terrified you’d vanish. “I only see you. Always you.”
You leaned forward, lips brushing his ear as you spat, voice low and venomous, “Her pussy would never taste as good as my ass.”
Jake let out the filthiest, most desperate moan you’d ever heard from him. His whole body jolted under you like your words had shocked him straight down to his spine. His grip on your hips turned bruising, cock twitching deep inside you.
“F-fuck, M/N—don’t—don’t say that unless you want me to lose it,” he gasped, eyes rolling back as he thrust up helplessly into you.
You smirked, grinding down in slow, punishing circles, letting the thick stretch of him drag against every sensitive spot inside you. “What, puppy? Gonna cum just from thinking about how good your tongue looks buried in my ass?”
His groan was guttural, like it was ripped straight out of his chest. He was falling apart, body trembling, abs flexing under your hands as you rode him raw. “You—you don’t get it,” Jake stammered, voice broken, “I think about it all the fucking time. When I’m at the gym, when I’m in class, when I’m trying to sleep—I’m obsessed. I’ll never get enough of you.”
Your jealousy simmered down into smug, wicked satisfaction. You tightened around him deliberately, making him whimper, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
“Good,” you hissed, dragging your lips across his jaw, biting down hard enough to make him groan. “Stay obsessed. Stay mine. She’ll never get what I give you. Nobody will.”
Jake’s response was feral. He snapped. One second you were in control, grinding down on him with spiteful precision, and the next he had you flipped onto your back, legs pinned wide open. His eyes were blown black with lust, jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his temple as he loomed over you.
“You think I’d ever look at her?” he growled, voice dark and ragged as he slammed into you, forcing a cry out of your throat. “No one—no fucking one—can touch me the way you do. No one tastes like you, no one feels like you, no one fucking owns me like you do, M/N.”
And with each thrust, he drove the point home—burying himself to the hilt, dragging your body across the couch cushions as his cock punched deep, exactly where you needed him.
“Say it,” you moaned, gripping his shoulders, eyes rolling back. “Say it again.”
Jake’s lips crashed against yours, teeth clashing, spit and desperation mixing in a kiss that felt more like a brand than affection. When he broke away, he groaned into your mouth, “Yours. Fucking yours. Forever.”
He was already on edge, but you didn’t let him breathe. Even after he came deep inside you, you clenched down on him and rolled your hips like you were determined to milk every last drop out of him.
Jake’s face was a mess—flushed, damp with sweat, lips swollen from kissing you raw. His abs tensed under your palms, every vein on his neck and arms popping out as he whimpered. Actual whimpers, high-pitched and needy, the kind of sounds you never thought he’d make until you ruined him enough times to know better.
“M/N—f-fuck—I just came—” he cried, hips twitching up anyway, his cock already hardening again inside you.
You smirked wickedly, dragging your nails down his chest. “And you’ll cum again, puppy. You’re not done until I say you’re done.”
He whimpered into your mouth when you kissed him again, his body trembling under your control. You shifted just enough so that when you clenched, his cum spilled out around his cock, dripping down your thighs, wetting his skin. Jake’s eyes fluttered open, glassy and obsessed, watching the mess.
“Oh my—fuck—look at you,” he groaned, one hand shooting down to your ass, spreading you open so he could watch his seed leak out. “I swear, M/N—I’d fill you every fucking day if you let me. Every day. I’d keep you stuffed so full of me you’d forget what empty feels like.”
You leaned down, licking the sweat off his jaw before biting it sharp enough to make him gasp. “You already do, Jake. You’re pathetic. I let you cum in me once and now you can’t stop.”
He shuddered, cock twitching back to life inside you, and it made you laugh breathlessly against his lips. “See? You’re hard again already. Puppy really can’t control himself.”
Jake moaned, wrapping his arms tight around you, holding you like if he let go you’d disappear. His voice was broken when he confessed, “I can’t help it, baby. You make me crazy. You fucking own me.”
You clenched hard, forcing a sob out of him. He bucked up desperately, chasing more, even though his body was already overworked.
“That’s right,” you whispered darkly, lips brushing his ear. “You’re mine to ruin. Mine to keep. No pussy, no girl, nobody else will ever give you this. Only me.”
“Only you,” Jake repeated instantly, like it was gospel. His eyes rolled back when you started grinding again, slow and cruel, making sure he felt every ounce of overstimulation. “F-fuck, M/N, I’m yours—just yours—forever—”
And then he broke again, cumming inside you with a guttural cry, body jerking beneath you as tears slid from the corners of his eyes.
You just sat there, riding out his orgasm, smirking down at him. “Pathetic. My puppy can’t even last five minutes without filling me again.”
Jake was already wrecked—sweat dripping down his temples, hair sticking to his forehead, chest rising and falling like he’d run a marathon. But you didn’t let him rest. Not when you were still rock-hard yourself, still greedy, still jealous.
You lifted your hips just enough to let his cock slide almost all the way out of you, watching how slick and messy it was, glistening with both your cum. His eyes followed it too, dazed and hungry, like he was addicted to the sight of you using him.
“M/N… baby… please,” he whined, voice cracked and raw. “I can’t—f-fuck—I can’t—”
You slammed back down, making him choke on his own words. His whole body arched, hands flying to your waist, but you grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head.
“You can,” you hissed, leaning down so your nose brushed his. “Because I’m not done with you yet. You’re not allowed to be done until I say so.”
He sobbed out a moan, tears welling in his eyes as you bounced harder, your ass clapping against his thighs with every thrust. The overstimulation made him thrash, made his legs tremble, but his cock stayed impossibly hard inside you, throbbing, pulsing, desperate to give you more.
“M/N—” he cried, and you cut him off with a sharp bite to his lower lip.
“Say it.”
He blinked through the blur of tears. “S-say what?”
“Who owns you?” you growled, grinding down slow and mean, squeezing him tight enough to make his hips jolt up involuntarily.
“You—fuck—you own me!” Jake wailed, head thrashing back against the pillow. “I’m yours, baby, I’m only yours!”
You smirked, satisfied, and rode him harder. His moans grew louder, borderline pornographic, filling the room until your ears rang with them. He begged into your mouth between sloppy kisses, babbling nonsense—“Please, don’t stop, don’t let go, I’ll be good, I’ll do anything, just keep me full, keep me yours.”
And then, unbelievably, he came again. You felt it flood inside you, hot and endless, his cock twitching violently as he cried out your name like it was the only word he knew. You didn’t stop moving, not for a second, milking him mercilessly.
Jake was sobbing by the end, shaking under you, his body too sensitive but his eyes wild with obsession. “B-baby, I can’t—oh my god—I’m yours, I’m yours, I swear—fuck—”
You leaned down, licking the tears off his cheeks, your voice dark and tender all at once. “Good boy. Keep cumming for me. Prove you’re mine.”
And he did—because no matter how overstimulated, how wrecked, how broken down you made him, Jake’s cock just kept giving, desperate to please you, desperate to belong to you.
He was still trembling beneath you, his chest streaked with sweat and his lips kiss-bruised, but you weren’t close to finished. You climbed off him slowly, watching his cock twitch against his stomach, red and soaked in the mess of both your releases.
Jake blinked up at you, glassy-eyed, voice hoarse. “B-baby… I don’t think I can—”
You smirked, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at you. “You don’t have to think, Jake. Just do what I say.”
His breath caught, pupils blowing wide, and he nodded instantly. “Yes, sir.”
You crawled up, straddling his face. His hands immediately gripped your thighs, needy and trembling, pulling you down until your ass pressed against his mouth. He moaned like he’d just been given his favorite meal, tongue darting out to taste you.
But this time, you gave him no mercy—you leaned forward, wrapped your fist around his cock, and swallowed him down your throat. The taste of his cum still coated him, bitter and salty, but you didn’t care—you wanted to ruin him further.
Jake screamed into your hole, the vibrations of his voice making you moan around his dick. His hips bucked off the bed, trying to shove himself deeper into your throat, even as his tongue worked desperately between your cheeks, licking up every drop of your mixed release.
“God—fuck—baby,” he choked between licks, his voice muffled against you. “You taste—ngh—you taste so good—oh my god, I could die like this.”
You pulled off his cock just long enough to growl, “Shut up and eat your cum like a good boy.” Then you shoved him back into your mouth, bobbing your head ruthlessly, your throat flexing around him.
Jake sobbed, obeying instantly. His tongue worked harder, slurping up the mess dripping out of you, swallowing like it was holy water. His hands clawed at your hips, nails digging into your skin as he tried to drag you even deeper onto his face.
You were both moaning now, loud and desperate, the obscene mix of sucking, slurping, and choked cries filling the room. Jake’s cock pulsed violently in your throat, already leaking again, and you smirked around him—he was close, even though he’d just cum twice.
You pulled off with a wet pop, spit dripping from your chin. “Pathetic,” you taunted, grinding harder onto his mouth. “You’re gonna cum again just from eating yourself out, huh?”
Jake whined against you, shaking his head even though his cock twitched like crazy. His voice broke as he tried to speak with his mouth still buried in your ass. “P-please—I can’t—f-fuck—I’m yours, M/N, I’m only yours—”
You stroked his cock with slow, cruel twists of your wrist while riding his face, your voice dark and amused. “Then prove it. Make yourself cum with my taste in your mouth. Show me you’re my puppy.”
And that was all it took. Jake arched under you, body convulsing as he spilled himself across his stomach, crying into your hole as he came untouched except for your grip and the humiliation of being forced to eat his own cum out of you.
When you finally pulled back, he was a ruined mess—his face soaked, chest glistening, tears streaking down his cheeks, cock twitching weakly against his stomach. He looked up at you with raw devotion, panting hard.
“See?” you murmured, tugging his hair so he’d look you dead in the eye. “No pussy will ever taste like this.”
Jake nodded instantly, voice broken but full of worship. “Never—never, baby. Only you. Only you.”
a/n: i was actually shaking while writing this. submissive puppy top jaeyun 🔛🔝 i need him so bad since 2021 😭 i hope y’all enjoy this!
⊹ jake is SO filthy. dear god do not let his sweet, gentle boyfriend act fool you because jake is a full nelson freak who loves putting you in the most embarrassing positions. something about positions that leave you completely exposed or vulnerable are his favorite. nothing turns him on more than the fact that nobody else can see you like this.
⊹ jake WILL beg you to spit in his mouth. he’ll beg you while smiling so sweetly, even when your pussy’s sucking him in unbearably tight. you’d be riding him, exhausted and so insanely wet. he’d be underneath you, faces so close your lips are grazing eachother. “just this once baby, please?” his hips pounding into you harder now, a white ring forming at the base of his cock. if you agree to spit in his mouth, his eyes WILL roll back and he WILL cum on the spot.
⊹ jake the back breaker and ass eater. will have you face down ass up on his dorm mattress and will eat you out with his thumb in your ass. the first time jake’s tounge grazed your unexplored hole, you gasped and asked him what he was doing. which he responded to you with a laugh and licked a long strip from your clit, to your ass, and all the way down to the middle of your back.
⊹ jake who can be so so rough but gives the sweetest aftercare. the last thing he wants is for you to feel used when he loves you so much. jake is the type to immediately pick you up and take you to the bathroom so you can pee (uti’s are horrible i do not recommend). he’ll cuddle you, order food, message your legs, play with your hair, anything u ask for, he will do.
⊹ jake loves and adores morning sex. on a fall morning when the air is chilly but the two of you are warm under a soft blanket, jake slowly thrusting in and out of you. it’s so lazy but so comforting the way he kisses at your body like he’s not in a rush at all, even though him and the boys have to leave in half an hour. he’ll smile at you, gently teasing your clit to bring you over the edge. not kinky. not gross. just sweet. because while sim jaeyun is a freak he is also the best boyfriend.
you and jake were best friends since childhood because of your families. before graduating college, they told you that if the two of you haven’t found a relationship by the time you graduate, they would marry the two of you off.
you didn’t want that, so in order to stop that arrangement, you decided to set jake up with somebody else.
however, when things get more deeper than intended, can you still pretend that your heart doesn’t beat for the one person who’s stayed by your side all this time.
pairing: sim jaeyun x male reader
contains: 18+ [MDNI], male reader, childhood best friends to lovers, arranged marriage, secret mutual pining, jake is whipped, reader is in deep denial, emotional tension, fake dating, heavy smut, chickboy jake (but not really) x pretty boy philosophy major m/n, slowburn
other characters: other enhypen members, sophia and megan (katseye)
notes: this fic is set in the philippines (yes, i’m a filipino). jake is a 4th year engineering student in ateneo, while m/n is a 3rd year philosophy student in pup. jake used to go back and forth in australia before his family settled in the philippines. some dialogues might be in tagalog (but i’ll also provide english translations). btw, hmu if you’re a filo!
You always knew your families were too close.
The kind of close that made sleepovers feel like second homes. The kind of close that made your mom call Jake her “panganay na hindi ko nanganak” (my eldest that I didn’t give birth to) and his mom call you “my future son-in-law.” You never took it seriously—until they brought it up again this year.
“If you two are still single by graduation, we'll arrange marriage you. Para kampante kami na hindi kung sino-sino lang ang makakatuluyan niyo (So we’ll be assured that the two of you won’t end up with just anybody).”
They laughed.
You didn’t.
Jake? That traitor smiled like it was a promise.
You're sitting on the third step of his porch now, iced coffee melting beside you as you try to process the weight of what graduation now means. Jake lounges next to you, lazily flipping through something on his phone, as if his entire future isn't being hijacked by a half-joke and a mom with a wedding Pinterest board.
“Do you even care they’re trying to legally bind us like a teleserye plotline?” you mutter, eyes fixed ahead.
Jake shrugs, his accent slipping soft and lazy like honey in the afternoon heat. “I’ve had worse offers.”
You shoot him a glare. “So you’re really okay with marrying me?”
His eyes don’t leave the screen, but you hear the grin in his voice. “I mean… you’re cute.”
“Jake.”
Finally, he looks at you. And it hits you, just like it always does when he does that thing—like he's looking through you, not at you.
“I wouldn’t mind,” he says, quieter this time. “Not if it’s you.”
Your stomach tightens. Not from butterflies, but from dread. You’ve heard those words before. From boys who didn’t mean it. From boys who wanted you when it was convenient. From boys who said things like “I’d date you if I wasn’t straight” while their hand was still on your thigh.
And Jake? Jake had the face, the body, the fuckboy rumors. Ateneo engineering major, soccer varsity, tiktoker aura, hotdog-arm-showing-cropped-shirt-wearer. He was the guy moms warned you about and the guy you once fell asleep thinking about, years ago, before you taught yourself to stop.
You can’t let yourself be one of his experiments.
Which is why you say, “Good. Because I found you someone.”
He blinks. “Huh?”
“Sophia,” you continue, grabbing your phone. “Fourth year din (too). Business major, sa Ateneo rin (in Ateneo too). I met her through Jay—she’s pretty, smart, and actually wants a relationship. And she’s not a guy you grew up bathing with.”
Jake snorts. “First of all, you bathed with me.”
You smack his arm. “Second, I’m serious. You want a girlfriend? Date her. You guys are in the same org, same barkada (group of friends). She asked about you, you know. Said you’re cute.”
At that, he perks up. But not in the way you expect.
Not with interest.
With suspicion.
“She asked about me? Or you offered me to her?”
“…What’s the difference?”
“Big difference, M/N.”
You ignore the way your name sounds in his voice, like a secret only he gets to say.
Jake leans in, smirk curling just slightly. “You trying to set me up to save yourself from marrying me?”
“You’re damn right I am.”
Jake’s face softens for a second. “So desperate to not end up with me, huh?”
You scoff, roll your eyes, and shove your phone screen toward him. “Text her. Before I do end up with you and my life becomes a Wattpad tragedy.”
But as Jake reads her contact info, something shifts.
His jaw clenches just a little. His fingers tighten on your phone.
And behind that teasing grin, you miss the flicker of hurt.
He’s been in love with you for years.
You just never let yourself believe it.
And now?
Now you’re handing him off.
On purpose.
To someone prettier.
To someone safer.
To someone not you.
“You said he’s a what now?”
Sophia’s voice crackles over the call, amused and slightly suspicious.
“An Englishero,” you say again, flopped stomach-down on your bed as you scroll through Jake’s old photos to send her. “Like… full Aussie when he wants to be. Grew up back and forth. Accent comes out pag gusto niyang magpa-cute (when he wants to act cute). Which is always.”
Sophia laughs, low and impressed. “Okay, wait, this is him with the soccer jersey, right? The thighs??”
You smirk. “Yup. Also, he’s single, slightly stupid, and—get this—our parents are tryna arrange marriage us if we don’t find someone by graduation.”
“…Girl.” Her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “So you’re setting him up with me so you won’t be forced into a love team marriage?”
“Exactly.”
She hums. “Is he okay with this setup?”
“Babe, he doesn’t even care who he ends up with.”
You don’t mean to say it with so much bitterness. But it’s there. Hanging. Like a splinter.
Sophia, ever perceptive, doesn’t comment on it. Just replies, “Well, if he’s cute and dumb and speaks like Timothee Chalamet, I’m in. When’s the date?”
Later that day, you’re at PUP, stretched across a patch of grass on campus, trying to ignore the weird gnawing in your chest. Megan’s painting her nails beside you while Jungwon and Ni-ki argue over whether K-drama engineers are ever realistic.
“You’re giving him away why again?” Megan asks, not looking up.
“I’m not giving him away,” you mutter.
“You literally matched him with a girl who looks like she walked out of an influencer meet-and-greet.”
“I’m just… stopping a marriage before it happens.”
Jungwon sips from his taho. “A marriage that only happens if you’re both still single. Which means…”
You glare. “Which means nothing.”
Ni-ki smirks. “You like him.”
You throw a leaf at his face. “I don’t. I liked him before. A long time ago. Then he started getting girls left and right like a walking Ateneo fuckboy.”
“And yet,” Megan sings, “here you are, still bitter.”
You fall dramatically to the grass. “I am not bitter. I’m just… responsible. Jake needs someone stable, sweet, with an MBA in the making. Not me, a stressed-out philosophy major who overthinks every facial expression.”
“Babe,” Megan says, “you literally wrote a 3k-word paper on why Jungwon’s side glance last week meant he was going through an existential crisis.”
“…It was meaningful.”
Meanwhile, across Ateneo, Jake leans against a locker as Jay eyes him with that older-brother-who-knows-you-too-well face.
“So you’re really going on this date with Sophia?”
Jake shrugs. “She’s hot. I mean, yeah.”
Jay squints. “Right. You sure you’re not doing this to get closer to M/N?”
Jake’s smile falters.
“I mean,” Jay continues casually, “setting up a date to prove he doesn’t like you is a classic romcom move. Very When Harry Met Salome of you.”
“That’s not even the title—”
“Jake.”
Jake sighs. “I’m doing this to make him see I’m serious. He thinks I flirt for fun. He thinks I wouldn’t want him. I’m trying to prove a point.”
Jay raises a brow. “You sure it won’t backfire? What if he actually lets you go?”
Jake’s silence says everything.
The date happened around 7:14 PM on High Street, BGC.
You’re not there.
But you are watching from Sophia’s Instagram story like a stalker with a WiFi connection and a bruised ego.
They’re sitting at a rooftop bar. She’s laughing. He’s doing that smile—the lazy one, where his tongue peeks out and his dimples go nuclear.
You toss your phone aside. It hits your pillow.
But of course, your friends have no chill.
Megan sends you a selfie: “Lurker era 🤭”
Jungwon sends a meme: “You when he looks happy with someone else 👉😃🔪”
And then—your phone vibrates.
Jaeyun 🐶:
she’s cool. thanks for setting me up, M/N.
You stare at the message too long.
Type.
Erase.
Type again.
You:
no prob! hope you’re having fun lol
Delivered.
Read.
No reply.
But what you don’t know?
Jake’s staring at his screen too.
Sophia’s talking. Laughing.
But Jake?
He’s not listening.
Because all he’s thinking about is how you never once asked him if he wanted to be set up.
And how everything you’re doing to push him away just makes him want you more.
“So,” Sophia says after a beat, setting down her wine glass. “You’re really into him.”
Jake nearly chokes. “I—what?”
Sophia smirks, propping her chin on one hand like she’s watching a good drama. “Come on. You’ve looked at your phone fifteen times, and every time I mention his name, your eye twitches like you’ve got an allergic reaction to your own feelings.”
Jake sighs. “Is it that obvious?”
“To everyone but him, apparently.”
He leans back, defeated. “He thinks I’m just… playing around. Like I’m not serious. Like I’d date anything in a skirt—”
“Well, that’s rude. I’m wearing pants.”
Jake grins weakly. “You’re not the problem. He is.”
Sophia tilts her head. “Then maybe he needs a push.”
Jake frowns. “A push?”
Sophia leans in, eyes glittering. “What if we make him realize what he’s missing? Play along. Make it look like we hit it off. Post a few stories. Hang out a few times. Make him think you’re slipping through his fingers.”
Jake hesitates. “You’d help me with that?”
Sophia laughs. “Babe, I live for drama. Besides, I’m not even into guys.”
And that’s when Jake stares at her, blinking.
“You’re—”
“Yup.”
“Does Jay know—?”
“No. I like seeing him suffer.”
They clink glasses.
The next day, you were a clueless fool at Megan’s house, biting your nails as Sophia posts a photo of her and Jake laughing at a café.
The caption?
guess we weren’t so different after all 💙
Megan stares at you like you’ve lost brain cells. “Okay, if you tell me one more time that you ‘don’t care,’ I will throw your phone into the rice cooker.”
“I don’t,” you mutter, refreshing the story again.
“M/N.”
“What?! I don’t! I just—ugh—it’s weird seeing him with someone else, okay?”
Ni-ki, sitting cross-legged on the floor, raises an eyebrow. “So you admit it.”
Jungwon leans in, voice flat. “You’re in love with your best friend, and you’re too dumb to realize it.”
You shoot him a look. “Shut up.”
“No, you shut up.”
You groan, flopping onto Megan’s bed.
Megan cocks her head. “If you don’t like Jake, why does your whole body glitch every time you see them together?”
You don’t answer.
But your silence is loud.
You thought to yourself: Maybe I just don’t like people getting close to Jake.
That’s it. That’s the whole explanation you allow yourself to believe.
Because Jake’s been yours for so long—not in a romantic way, obviously. Just… emotionally. Practically. Historically. He was the one who called you “[Nickname]” before anyone else. The one who knew which shade of taho syrup you hated. The one who sat through your rants about metaphysics like it was the season finale of a K-drama.
You don’t own him.
But sometimes, it feels like he belongs to you.
Meanwhile, Jake’s pacing in front of Sunghoon and Jay while Sophia scrolls through your latest IG story—just a photo of a book and coffee, but she zooms in on your reflection in the mug.
“His ears are red,” she says smugly. “He’s spiraling.”
Sunghoon blinks. “So wait… you're fake-dating her to make him realize he likes you?”
Jake shrugs. “Basically.”
Jay sighs, rubbing his temples. “This is the most unnecessarily complicated gay pining I’ve ever seen.”
Sophia grins. “You’re welcome.”
You’re still processing that mental lie you keep telling yourself when Megan ambushes you during your Friday breakdown hour.
“Dress up,” she announces. “We’re going out.”
You blink from your laptop. “I have a paper due—”
“It’s Jay’s house party. Everyone’s going.”
“I don’t want to see everyone,” you mutter, eyes flicking briefly to Jake’s latest story. A selfie with Sophia, captioned:
Study date. or not 🤫
Megan arches a brow. “You’re going. Ni-ki already laid out your outfit. He said he’s bringing the slutty cologne.”
“You mean your cologne—?”
“Details, babe. Get ready.”
10:38 PM. You arrived at Jay’s party. It was loud. Too loud. You didn’t expect to feel this off.
The music’s bumping, the crowd is hot, and there’s a beer in your hand that someone definitely refilled without asking. Ni-ki’s glued to your side like a chaos gremlin in a mesh shirt, flirting with anything that breathes and dragging you around for damage control.
“Okay, smile,” he whispers, arm around your shoulder. “Jake just walked in.”
You freeze. “What?”
“Just act natural.”
“What does that mean?”
“I dunno, pout and look expensive.”
You barely manage to compose your face when Jake appears in the corner of your vision. Navy shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy—he looks like every bisexual crisis rolled into one man.
You wave awkwardly.
He stares.
His eyes drop to where Ni-ki’s hand still rests around your waist.
And he moves.
Straight toward you.
“Yo,” he says, voice a little tight. “Didn’t know you’d be here.”
You force a smile. “Didn’t plan to. Megan and Ni-ki kidnapped me.”
Jake nods once, glancing again at Ni-ki’s hand. Then—he laughs, kind of awkward, kind of forced.
“Hey,” he turns to you, “can I talk to you for a sec?”
Before you can answer, his fingers curl gently around your wrist, tugging you out of the living room. Not roughly. Just firmly enough that your breath catches.
“Jake—where are we—?”
“Just here,” he mutters, leading you to the empty hallway upstairs. “Away from whatever that was.”
You stare at him. “What was what?”
He runs a hand through his hair. “Ni-ki. You two were kinda… close.”
You frown. “We always are. You know that.”
Jake shrugs. “Still.”
Still what?
Still weird?
Still yours?
You don’t say it. He doesn’t either.
Instead, he blurts, “You’re free this weekend, right?”
“…Why?”
“My soccer game. Finals. You should come.”
You blink. “Since when do you invite me to your games?”
He shrugs again, suddenly avoiding your gaze. “Just thought it’d be cool if you were there.”
You narrow your eyes. “Is Sophia coming?”
Jake doesn’t flinch, but his voice flattens. “Don’t think so.”
“Oh.”
“And wear my jersey,” he adds, more casual this time. “I’ll bring it.”
You laugh. “Why would I wear your jersey?”
His eyes flick to yours. “Why wouldn’t you?”
And god, there’s something about the way he says it. Not flirty. Not teasing.
Just serious. Quiet. Hopeful.
You swallow the heat in your throat. “Fine. Just… don’t expect me to cheer like a fangirl.”
Jake grins. “You don’t need to. Just be there.”
Later that night, Jake drove you back home after picking up his jersey from his condo unit.
You stare at the jersey now sitting on your bed.
Still smells like his cologne. Like summer and vanilla deodorant and a boy who’s always been too close for comfort.
You hold it to your chest, pulse skipping.
It’s not a big deal.
You’re just… helping your best friend.
Who maybe fake-dated someone to make you jealous.
And maybe succeeded.
You’re not nervous.
Okay—you are, but you’re hiding it under your hoodie as you walk toward the Ateneo soccer field, Jake’s oversized jersey rolled into your backpack like a secret you weren’t sure you were ready to wear.
SIM 15
His name. His number.
You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. You’ve worn his hoodies before. Shared towels. Slept head-to-chest with him in a cramped tent on a field trip once. This? This is just cotton.
So why does your heart feel like it’s about to choke you?
The bleachers are already filling up when you arrive. Girls with signs. Loud teammates. A few players stretching. Jay waves you over with a stupid knowing grin. You pretend you don’t see him.
But someone else does see you.
“Ohooooo?”
You turn and find Sophia grinning like the cat who caught the gay rat.
“Is that a jersey I see?” she teases, walking over, iced coffee in hand and bisexual superiority in her step. “Let me guess… Sim. Number 15.”
You try to sound casual. You fail. “He gave it to me. Said I should wear it.”
Sophia leans closer. “M/N, baby. I know this wasn’t part of the plan, but are you sure you’re not already dating?”
You flush. “We’re not.”
“Mmm. But you're wiping his sweat and wearing his number like a K-drama love interest in the final arc.”
“That’s just muscle memory!”
Sophia smirks. “So is love.”
You’re saved from further teasing when the crowd bursts into cheers. The players are lining up. Blue and white uniforms, the Ateneo logo shining proudly.
Then—Jake.
Your eyes find him instantly.
He’s walking out of the dugout, hair pushed back, cheeks already flushed from warmups. He scans the crowd once, twice—then spots you.
And he lights up.
Not in a “hey bro” kind of way. In a sunshine breaking through clouds kind of way.
You instinctively lift a hand in a weak wave.
Jake jogs over.
Just before entering the field proper, he pauses near the sidelines where his teammates are huddled.
You’re too far to hear what he says, but you see it—he gestures subtly in your direction. The boys look. Smirk. Nod. One even whistles.
You freeze.
Jake looks back at you, grinning.
You have no idea what just happened.
The game starts.
You try to pay attention.
You fail again.
Because Jake keeps stealing glances.
Because you keep noticing.
Because every time the ball comes near him, he goes beast mode, and suddenly your throat is dry and your brain is wondering if watching soccer is supposed to feel like foreplay.
The crowd roars every time he scores or blocks. You don’t know the rules, but you know he’s playing like he’s got something to prove.
And between every play, every whistle, every break—he comes back to you.
“Water?” he pants.
You hand it to him without thinking, unscrewing the cap before he asks.
Then: towel. You wipe his sweat off his forehead. Neck. You even push his hair back, like your hands remember the way before you do.
Jake blinks up at you, breathing hard.
“Thanks,” he murmurs.
You barely nod. “You’re welcome.”
He grins. “You’re good at this.”
“At what?”
“Being mine.”
You laugh. Nervous. Stupid. “Shut up.”
But you don’t stop wiping his sweat.
And he doesn’t stop looking at you like you’re his home base.
Halftime.
Jake’s coach calls for a break. He jogs over again, this time less sweaty and more giddy.
“You okay?” he asks, crouching by your feet.
You nod. “You're winning.”
He nods too, eyes scanning your face. “So are you.”
You frown. “Huh?”
Jake leans in slightly. “You’ll get it eventually.”
Before you can ask what the hell that means, he’s running back onto the field.
You sit back.
Your fingers curl around the hem of his jersey on your body.
His name. His number.
His eyes.
His everything.
And maybe… you’re starting to realize:
This is not just soccer.
This is not just friendship.
And maybe, just maybe…
You’ve been in love with Jake Sim all along.
The final whistle blows.
And the crowd erupts.
Ateneo wins. 3-2. Jake made the final goal—some dramatic, cinematic, slow-motion shit that you only half saw because you were already on your feet, screaming without meaning to.
People are cheering. Teammates are piling on each other. Someone pops confetti into the sky like it’s a graduation.
But Jake?
Jake doesn’t join the huddle.
He turns.
Locks eyes with you.
And runs.
Straight.
At.
You.
Your heart leaps—no, it rockets to your throat as Jake barrels across the grass like you’re gravity itself.
“Wait, what—Jake—Jake—JAAKE—!”
It’s too late.
He lifts you.
Full arms-around-your-waist, feet-off-the-ground, twirling you in the air like a scene out of a drama you’d clown anyone else for watching.
And all you can do is laugh. Loud and helpless. “Put me down, you idiot!”
Jake doesn’t listen. He’s grinning like a man who’s never been this happy, cheek pressed briefly against your temple, the world whirling with every spin.
The sky is glowing. The team is yelling. You’re still laughing when he finally sets you down, but his arms don’t leave your waist.
He’s flushed from the game, breathless, and his eyes…
His eyes don’t move from yours.
“We won,” he says.
You grin, dizzy. “Obviously.”
“No, I mean—” he leans in just a little, voice low, “I won.”
You blink.
Jake gestures vaguely to the crowd, the team, the field.
“But this?” He tugs the hem of his jersey on you. “This is what I really wanted.”
You just looked at him, unable to hide the smile slowly creeping up your lips.
Half an hour passed, the field’s mostly empty now.
The crowd has filtered out, confetti trampled into the grass, teammates showering in the locker room, coaches yelling about stats that no one cares about anymore.
But you’re still here.
Waiting.
Just like Jake asked.
You sit at the edge of the field, grass tickling your ankles, Jake’s jersey still clinging to your back like it belongs there. Which it does. But you haven’t figured that out yet.
Then—
Heavy footsteps.
And a louder, heavier thud.
Jake collapses right beside you. Or rather—on you. Half his body sprawled across your lap like you’re a human pillow and he’s earned the right to melt into you like this.
You freeze. “What the hell, you’re all sweaty—”
“Shhh,” he groans, voice muffled against your stomach. “Just let me die here for like five minutes.”
You snort. “Drama queen.”
Your fingers move without thinking, brushing through his damp hair, soothing him like you always do when he’s tired, like you’ve always done, long before you realized what it meant.
“You played hard,” you say quietly. “You should rest.”
Jake hums, snuggling in closer. His arms loop around your waist like it’s instinct. Like his place has always been here. With you.
He exhales, lips brushing the side of your shirt. And then, barely audible—
“Your name sounds good with mine.”
You blink.
“…What?”
Jake doesn’t lift his head. Doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t play it off.
Just repeats, softer this time:
“Your name. With my last name. M/N Sim.”
Your brain short-circuits for a second.
Then you laugh. Nervous. Uncertain. “You’re delirious. You need Gatorade.”
But Jake doesn’t laugh.
Instead, he nuzzles deeper into the curve of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, his voice low and serious.
“I’m not kidding.”
You freeze. Your hand in his hair stills. Your heart does too.
“Jake—”
“Don’t overthink it,” he whispers. “Just… let me be here. With you.”
And you do.
Because you can’t move.
Because your body feels like it’s housing something too big to name.
Because maybe—deep down—you do know what he meant.
But you’re not ready.
So you pretend you didn’t hear it right.
You pretend he’s just tired.
While he—buried in your neck, clinging to you like a lifeline—waits for the day you finally hear him right.
Later, both of you decided to go to his place.
Jake’s condo smells like citrus body wash and laundry softener when you step in.
The kind of scent that always hits you in the face when you realize: oh. he lives here. Without you. Without anyone else. Just him. And that ghost of a what-if that’s been lingering between you for months.
He tosses his gym bag to the corner, already barefoot, shirt slightly damp from the post-shower rush. You haven't even taken your shoes off yet, and he’s already wrapped his arms around you from behind.
“Jake—let me order food first,” you protest with a tired chuckle, your phone barely staying in your grip as he sways you side to side like you're slow dancing with gravity.
“Mmm,” he mumbles, face buried into your shoulder. “Can’t we just eat air and each other’s company?”
“...That’s the gayest thing you’ve ever said.”
“And yet you’re still here,” he grins against your neck.
You sigh, but you’re smiling—because how can you not?
You open the delivery app, scrolling through options. Jake doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans more of his weight on you, arms still looped around your waist like you might disappear if he blinked.
“Want anything specific?” you ask.
He shrugs. “Anything you like. I’m starving.”
“You should lie down.”
“I am lying down,” he says, squeezing tighter. “Horizontally. In spirit.”
“You’re literally vertical—Jake—fine, just—just let me press order—”
He finally lets you go with a groan, flopping dramatically onto the couch like a defeated prince.
You finish the order, take off your shoes, and toss your phone to the side.
When you walk over, Jake pulls up the blanket and lifts one eyebrow. “You staying over?”
You hesitate. “I wasn’t planning to.”
He shifts to make space. “Stay.”
Just that.
No teasing. No smirk. No “just kidding” energy.
Just that word.
Stay.
And so you do.
You curl into the space beside him, unsure where to put your hands. He solves it for you by tugging you into his chest, arm draped around your waist, legs tangled like it's second nature.
It is second nature.
Because you’ve done this before.
Movie nights. Sleepovers. “Accidental” naps.
Except this feels different.
He’s warm.
He’s quiet.
And you can feel his heart beating against your back.
“I like this,” Jake murmurs sleepily.
You glance over your shoulder. “What, cuddling me like a giant koala?”
“No. Well. Yes,” he hums. “But mostly… you. Here.”
You don’t know what to say.
So you don’t say anything.
You just let his fingers trace light shapes on your side, his breath settle into a slower rhythm, his body soften behind you.
Minutes pass.
Then—
Barely audible, as his breathing evens out:
“Feels right… having you like this.”
You don’t think he meant for you to hear it.
But you do.
And it settles in your chest like a stone tossed into a quiet lake.
The food arrives around 8PM, still hot, a little greasy, and smelling like home. You lay it out on the coffee table while Jake shuffles over in the softest hoodie known to man—hood up, hair still damp at the tips, like he couldn’t even be bothered to towel it fully.
He plops onto the floor beside you with a dramatic sigh, face hitting a pillow.
You laugh. “Seriously? You couldn’t even sit up?”
“I scored three goals,” he mumbles into the fabric. “I’m basically an athlete-slash-legend-slash-crippled.”
“You’re a baby-slash-annoying,” you retort, already mixing rice and ulam (dish) into a bowl.
He peeks up at you with the most tired, most adorably helpless expression ever manufactured.
“…Can you feed me?”
You blink. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not,” he pouts. “I’m so tired, M/N. My legs don’t work. My arms are floppy. I’m dying.”
You roll your eyes, but your heart is already crumbling into soft goo. “Fine. But only because you look like a dehydrated pug.”
You scoop some food into a spoon and turn to him.
“Say ah.”
Jake grins like he’s won something major. “Ah~”
You feed him the first bite.
And the second.
And before you know it, he’s practically melted against your side, chewing slowly, head resting on your shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“It’s a good thing you’re not in nursing,” you mutter, giving him water after the third spoonful. “You’d be excellent at patient manipulation.”
He hums, mouth still full. “I don’t want anyone else taking care of me.”
You pause.
Spoon halfway to his mouth.
Your brain stutters.
Jake doesn’t even notice. He just opens his mouth expectantly.
You recover, awkwardly stuffing food into his face. “God, you’re such a brat.”
He swallows, then says, “Only with you.”
Your heart does a triple backflip in your chest.
You don’t answer. You don’t even breathe. Because you can’t.
Instead, you keep feeding him until his eyelids start fluttering closed between bites, until he leans more into you, heavier now, drowsy warmth radiating off him in waves.
You set the bowl down.
He turns his head into your neck again.
You let him.
And suddenly it’s quiet again. Just the hum of the air conditioning, the smell of leftover food, and Jake—tired, full, clinging to you like you're the softest place in the world.
“Thank you,” he murmurs. “For staying.”
You whisper, “Always.”
And you mean it.
Even if you still don’t know what this is.
Even if you’re not ready to name it yet.
Moments later, you don’t remember falling asleep.
You only recall Jake mumbling thanks between bites of chicken, his eyes slowly drooping like a toddler post-fiesta, and the now—
He was curled against you on the couch, arms around your waist, cheek resting right over your heart.
Your fingers are threaded in his hair. His legs are tangled with yours. You’re half-covered by a throw blanket, the room glowing soft with the warm hue of the overhead lights you forgot to turn off.
And for once?
You don’t feel the need to move. Or explain. Or leave.
Because Jake’s here. Breathing slow and warm and safe against you.
You close your eyes.
Peace.
Until—
Click.
The front door unlocks.
You blink.
Wait. Wait.
Jake definitely told you no one else had the spare key.
The door creaks open.
You shoot up slightly, trying not to dislodge Jake (spoiler: you do), and squint toward the hallway—
And there, standing frozen in the doorway with a brown paper bag in one hand and his entire soul leaving his body, is—
Jay.
He stares. You stare.
Jake mutters something like “M/N… five more minutes…” and curls back into your chest.
You look down, then back up.
Jay’s mouth opens. “...So.”
You whisper-scream, “It’s not what it looks like!”
Jay raises a brow. “You mean the part where my best friend is cuddling you like you’re a body pillow he’s married to?”
You flail slightly. “He was tired! I fed him! He told me to stay—!”
Jay walks inside, gently placing the paper bag on the counter. “So you fed him, let him cuddle you, wore his jersey, and stayed the night—platonically?”
You bury your face in your hands. “I hate you.”
Jay just laughs. “You know, Sunghoon and I had a bet.”
You glance up, panicked. “Please don’t say what I think you’re about to say.”
He grins. “He said Jake would confess first. I said you’d crack first. But now? I don’t even know if you realize you’re already dating.”
You whisper, “We’re not.”
Jay points. “M/N. He is literally purring on your chest.”
You glance down.
Jake, half-asleep, nuzzles against your collarbone with a sleepy smile. “Mmm... love you.”
Jay pauses. So do you.
You both slowly look at each other again.
Jay’s grin drops.
Your brain combusts.
You whisper, “He’s asleep. He didn’t mean that.”
Jay raised a brow. “Or he meant it so much that it slipped past his sleep filter.”
You blinked rapidly in gay panic
Jay picks up his bag. “I’m leaving before you both kiss and make me a godfather. Lock the door. And for the love of God, tell him you love him back when he wakes up.”
Then he walks out. Just like that.
You look down at Jake, who’s now breathing softly against you again.
And suddenly… everything feels a little too real.
You didn’t sleep well after. Next thing you knew, it was already morning.
Birds are chirping somewhere outside. The sun’s shining through the kitchen window. Your skin still smells faintly like his detergent. And there’s this heavy feeling in the air—like something’s about to happen. Like the silence is charged.
You’re at the stove, still wearing his jersey, flipping eggs while Jake moves around behind you, slow and sluggish. Sleepy.
And clingy again.
Because every few minutes, his hand lands on your waist like it needs to remember you’re there. Like if he lets go, he might wake up and you’ll be gone.
You don’t think about it too much.
Because you can’t.
So instead, you reach for distraction.
Small talk. Neutral territory. Safe space.
Big mistake.
“So,” you say casually as you plate the eggs, “how are things with Sophia?”
Silence. Like—you could hear the egg yolks scream.
You glance over your shoulder.
Jake has stopped mid-step, a spoon in his hand, halfway to his mouth.
“…What?” he says, voice low.
You blink. “Sophia? You two have been hanging out a lot. Just wondering how that’s going.”
He drops the spoon. Like, actually drops it. It clatters loudly against the counter.
Jake turns to you. His jaw is tight. His hands curl into loose fists at his sides.
Then, suddenly...
“Is it really that bad?”
You freeze. “What?”
Jake steps forward, expression tight. “The idea of marrying me. Does it disgust you that much?”
Your mouth goes dry. “What are you talking about?”
He laughs once, sharp and humorless. “You’ve been trying to set me up with Sophia for weeks. You act like the thought of us—me and you—is some kind of joke.”
You stammer. “I didn’t—Jake, I didn’t mean it like—”
“Then how did you mean it, M/N?” His voice cracks a little. “Because every time I try, every time I get close to showing you how I feel, you brush it off. You joke. You call me clingy. You treat this”—he gestures between you—“like it’s just a game.”
You stare. Heart pounding. Mind blank.
Because deep down?
You knew.
You knew what it looked like. What it felt like. What he was trying to say without saying it.
But you weren’t ready to hear it.
Not out loud.
And now…
Now he’s standing there, hurt leaking from his voice like a bleeding wound, and he still—still—hasn’t confessed.
Because he's terrified.
Because maybe he thinks if he says it out loud, he’ll lose you completely.
You take a breath.
“Jake…”
He shakes his head, stepping back.
“Forget it.”
And just like that—he turns away.
The rest of the day is weirdly quiet.
Jake doesn’t bring up the conversation from breakfast. He doesn’t storm off or give you the cold shoulder either. Instead, he… acts normal.
Too normal.
He puts on a show like nothing happened—like he didn’t basically bleed in front of you emotionally while you stood there holding a plate of eggs and confusion.
You both lounge on the couch, a movie playing in the background. You don’t remember what it’s about. Something with guns. Or swords. Or dragons?
You wouldn’t know. Because your brain is still stuck on his voice this morning.
“Is it really that bad?”
He said it like a punchline. Like a plea. Like a door closing.
And you? You let it close.
Because you're scared.
Because if he says he loves you, everything changes.
And if you say it back?
You're not sure you know how to survive that.
Little did you knew, Jake was about to snap.
It starts like any other family dinner.
Your parents. His parents. Jake. You. A long table. Fancy restaurant. Cold aircon. Slightly overpriced sinigang.
They’re laughing. Swapping stories. Asking about school. Careers. The future.
You’re halfway through your juice when Jake’s mom smiles across the table and goes:
“So… graduation’s coming soon.”
You stiffen.
Jake—calm, composed, chewing like nothing’s wrong.
“Mm,” his mom continues, “you both remember the deal, right? If you haven’t found anyone by graduation—”
“We marry each other,” you finish weakly, laughing like it’s a silly little inside joke, even though it’s the reason you once considered setting him up with the entire Ateneo population.
Your mom chuckles. “We’re not forcing anything, of course, but—”
“Actually,” you cut in quickly, “Jake’s already dating someone.”
Jake’s fork clinks against his plate.
“Oh?” his dad raises a brow. “Really?”
You nod too fast. “Yup. Been a while. Super happy. Yup.”
Jake swallows.
The table turns to him.
His eyes meet yours.
And that’s when he does it.
That’s when he throws the whole damn match into the gasoline-soaked mess you’ve made.
Jake smiles. Calm. Easy. Deadly.
“Yeah,” he says, “I’m dating him.”
BOOM.
The silence is instant. Like you just said you were moving to Mars together.
Your soul leaves your body and slaps you on the way out.
You choke. “I’m sorry—what??”
Jake looks at you. Innocent. Smiling. “You didn’t want them to think we were single, right?”
“JAKE.”
“Oops,” he says, shrugging like this isn’t the emotional equivalent of being drop-kicked off a cliff.
Your dad looks confused. Your mom is smiling way too hard. Jake’s mom is gasping into her hands like she just won a bet. His dad looks like he already pulled out a wedding planner from under the table.
You’re losing it. “I meant Sophia! You were—Sophia was—!”
Jake turns back to the table. “Sophia’s a friend. M/N’s… more.”
More.
You almost launch yourself into the atmosphere.
“Oh my god,” you mutter. “You’re serious.”
Jake leans closer, grinning now, whispering just loud enough for only you to hear:
“Now you have to deal with it. Since, you know, I’m your boyfriend publicly.”
You shoot him a glare so sharp it could pierce armor.
He just leans back, smug. Like he didn’t just hijack your entire life with one sentence.
Meanwhile, your mom is already pulling out old baby photos. Jake’s mom is giggling. Your dad is Googling marriage license requirements.
Jake sips his water like he didn’t just detonate a bomb and walk away unbothered.
You stood up and gripped his wrist, practically yeeting him out the restaurant door, weaving past waiters, ignoring the old ladies watching like it’s a telenovela.
“Jake. Outside. Now.”
“Was it the public confession or the marriage approval committee I should be worried about?” he teases.
You shove the door open. It swings with drama.
And when you both step outside—quiet street, sun already dipping low, the city humming around you—you turn.
You’re seething. Flushed. Breath short.
“You’re insane.”
He smiles. “Insanely in love with—”
You slap a hand over his mouth.
“No.”
You look around like someone might still be eavesdropping.
“I told you I was using Sophia to get them off our backs. You didn’t have to go full Wattpad on me in the middle of family lunch, Jake!”
He licks your palm.
“JAKE—!”
You yank your hand back. And then—without thinking—your fingers fly up and tug at his hair. Not too hard. Just enough to release the sheer, chaotic frustration burning through you.
Jake freezes.
Then, slowly, he smirks.
“Okay, wow,” he says softly, grabbing your hands before you can even recoil, locking your wrists in his gentle grip.
“Getting feisty, aren’t we?”
“Don’t start with me—”
Before you can pull away again, he leans down and—kisses your knuckles.
Just like that.
Soft. Purposeful. Unfair.
You blink.
Your brain fully bluescreens.
Your soul does a cartwheel off the roof.
He’s still holding your hands when he says, “If you’re going to attack me, at least let me enjoy it.”
“Jake—”
“I meant it, you know.”
You pause.
“…The public confession or the hair-pulling kink?”
He laughs.
But then he quiets. His smile drops just slightly.
“I meant it when I said you’re mine.”
Your heartbeat stutters.
“And I’d say it again. In front of our parents. Our friends. The waiter. Your future therapist.”
“Jake—”
He leans in closer. Still holding your hands like he’s anchoring you.
“I know you’re scared. I know you don’t think this makes sense. But I’ve loved you since we were dumb kids sharing snacks and getting scolded for doodling on each other’s arms.”
You swallow. Hard.
He smiles, gentler now. “So yeah. You can hiss at me. Pull my hair. Pretend this is a game. But I’m not playing.”
Then he lets go and steps back.
“I’ll be inside,” he says. “If you’re ready to stop pretending.”
And with that—
He leaves you standing outside. Heart pounding. Hand still tingling from his kiss.
Tail puffed like a cornered cat who maybe—just maybe—wants to be held.
After a few minutes of composing and giving yourself a very lengthy and rather aggressive pep talk, you return to the table like nothing happened.
As if you didn’t just almost combust in the alley because your best friend turned fake boyfriend turned real heart attack kissed your damn hand and called you his.
Your mom raises an eyebrow. “Everything alright?”
You smile. Too wide. Too bright. The kind of smile that says "I am 5 seconds away from committing a crime."
“Yep,” you chirp. “Just needed air.”
Jake’s already seated. Looking entirely too pleased with himself. His hand is resting across the back of your chair when you sit beside him—casual. Familiar. Possessive.
You subtly swat it away.
He grins.
“So,” Jake says loudly, drumming his fingers on the table, “should we talk venues?”
You blink. “What?”
“The wedding,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I’m thinking beach? Or garden? I know you like plants. We could do something earthy. Maybe get Megan to design the invitations.”
Your fork clangs against your plate.
“Jake,” you mutter under your breath. “What are you doing.”
“Brainstorming,” he replies cheerily. “It’s not every day I get to plan my wedding to the love of my life.”
Your mom gasps. Jake’s mom is crying.
You smile through your teeth. “Can I speak to you outside again?”
Jake winks. “Already did that. You tried to maul me.”
Your face twitches.
He leans closer, voice low so only you can hear, warm and amused against your ear. “You look cute when you’re trying not to commit a felony.”
You hiss through clenched teeth, “I will bite you.”
“Promise?”
You stare ahead, silently praying for divine intervention.
Your dad raises his glass. “To Jake and M/N!”
Everyone cheers.
You are dying inside.
Jake is glowing.
Dinner wraps up with Jake still acting like he just won The Bachelor. His mom is glowing. Your dad is laughing with Jake’s dad. Sophia texted you “i’m gonna kill you but like romantically 😍.”
You’re sweating through your shirt—well, Jake’s shirt that you borrowed once and eventually ended up not givingg back—and silently vibrating with secondhand anxiety.
You’re about to make a clean escape—grab your bag, pretend you left your charger at home, maybe fake your death—when you hear it:
“Anak (Son),” your mom says, smiling too sweetly.
“Can we talk for a bit?”
Oh no.
You sit down again. Your palms sweat instantly.
She waits until everyone else is distracted—Jake’s still entertaining your dad with an exaggerated soccer story—and then turns to you.
And asks, gently:
“So… how long have you been in love with him?”
BOOM.
Immediate internal malfunction.
“W-what?” you cough. “No—I’m not—we’re just friends!”
She tilts her head. “He calls you babe.”
You flail. “That was one time—!”
“He kisses your hands.”
“He started it—!”
“You feed him.”
You freeze. “Okay, low blow.”
She leans in, voice soft, eyes serious.
“M/N. I’ve watched you two grow up together. Since you were kids, you’ve always looked at Jake like he was the sun. And I used to wonder if it was just you being close. But now…”
She pauses. Gives you that look—the one that sees straight through your soul.
“…You still look at him that way. And he’s never looked at anyone else like he looks at you.”
Your breath catches.
“I’m your mother,” she says. “You can lie to everyone else. Not me.”
You stare at your lap. Hands fidgeting. Voice small.
“…What if he’s better off with someone who isn’t scared?”
She places a hand over yours.
“He’s not asking for perfect. He’s asking for you.”
Your chest tightens.
You blink back the sting in your eyes.
And suddenly, her voice is gentler. Teasing.
“Besides, anak (son)… you think he’d let anyone else wear his jersey?”
You laugh. Quietly. Wetly.
“…He’s so annoying.”
She smiles. “Yes. But he’s yours, isn’t he?”
And this time, you don’t deny it.
After everyone bid their goodbyes, you step outside.
Jake’s already there, sitting on the curb like a model in a sad music video. The street lights paint gold over his skin. He’s spinning a bottle cap between his fingers like he’s been waiting—not just today, but forever.
He sees you and grins.
“Your mom give you the full ‘so when are you marrying my son’ talk?”
You cross your arms.
“I don’t like you.”
Jake blinks.
Then slowly—so slowly—he smiles.
The kind that tugs at the corner of his mouth, smug and soft and devastating.
“You done lying for the night?” he says.
You feel your face burn.
“I’m serious,” you mumble, shifting on your feet.
Jake stands.
And then he steps in close.
Not enough to touch. But enough to feel the heat from his body. Enough to make your knees consider betraying you on the spot.
“Okay,” he says, nodding casually. “You don’t like me.”
“Right.”
He smirks. “Then you won’t mind if I kiss you tomorrow.”
You choke. “What?”
“Just saying. If you don’t like me, it won’t matter, right?” He shrugs. “You won’t care if I kiss you. Or if I keep texting you goodnight. Or if I make you coffee the way you like it. Or if I call you mine in front of people again.”
You stare. Mouth slightly open. No words, only malfunction.
Jake leans in—just barely—and adds, in a whisper.
“I’m still going to make you mine, M/N.”
Then he steps back.
“Anyway,” he says cheerily, “see you tomorrow!”
And he leaves.
Just like that.
You’re left standing in front of the restaurant, face on fire, heart pounding, your brain short-circuiting like a faulty karaoke mic.
You yell after him, “I SAID I DON’T LIKE YOU!”
Jake, without turning around:
“Sure, babe!”
You scream internally.
And maybe—just maybe—a little externally, too.
You get to campus early.
You’re calm. Composed. Dressed in neutral colors and a will to survive. You’ve successfully ignored Jake’s three good morning texts, his “hey babe” voice note, and the meme he sent of Layla holding a sign that said “Stop saying you don’t like him. You’re literally in love with him.”
You’re fine, until you reach the gates of PUP.
And see him.
Wearing your department shirt.
Yes. Your PHILOSOPHY DEPARTMENT shirt.
You freeze.
He waves. “Hey, batchmate!”
“Jake,” you hiss as you reach him. “What are you doing here?”
“Wearing your shirt. Embracing your world. Becoming your destiny.”
“I’m going to scream.”
“Want me to wear your ID next?”
You swear your vision tilts.
“I have class,” you mutter, trying to sidestep him.
He follows. “Same. It’s called Advanced Flirting: Seduction Through Emotional Warfare.”
“Jake.”
“What, I’m just being a supportive fiance.”
“Stop calling yourself that—”
“I will when you admit you love me.”
You almost trip.
Later that day, your friends spot him waiting by your building with food.
Jungwon stares. “You still think he’s not in love with you?”
Megan just eats a fry. “Should we start planning your prenup?”
Ni-ki whispers, “Tell him to take the shirt off.”
You glare. “He’s testing me.”
Jake pops a fry in your mouth before you can finish.
You choke. He smirks.
“Eat well, babe. You’ll need energy. Loving me takes work.”
You scream internally.
But also… your heart skips.
Because no matter how loud your denial is—he’s louder.
Later that night, you're pacing in your room, your phone buzzing like hell. Twitter is on fire. Jake posted a soft photo—your side profile, blurry, sunlight caught in your lashes, your lips parted as you sipped from your coffee.
my favorite view 🥱💙
Your friends filled the comments.
@sunghoon: OK BOYFRIEND
@megan: M/N???
@jungwon: oh this is getting out of hand
@niki: LITERALLY SAID YOU’RE NOT IN LOVE?????? THIS???
Out of spite, you commented:
@m/n: JAKE DELETE THIS. NOW
And then moments later, your phone rings.
Sophia.
You answer.
“Hey—”
“I’m going to kill you.”
Your brows furrowed. “What did I do?!”
“Stop denying your feelings, for Christ’s sake, M/N! I can’t take any more of Jake’s rants about you!”
“What—I—Weren’t you, guys, supposed to be the ones dating?! You two seemed to hit it off—”
“We were faking it, duh!”
You pause.
“We wanted to watch you squirm and admit—verbally and truthfully—that you actually like him! But Jake wasn’t kidding when he said that you’d rather get hit by a comet than talk about feelings!”
You hear a door slam in the background.
Then suddenly, your group chat starts BLOWING UP.
Jungwon: emergency call now
Ni-ki: im adding megan
Megan: this better be about M/N’s mess
Sophia: it is.
Within 20 seconds, you're on a Google Meet of doom.
Ni-ki looked at you like he was judging your entire existence. “Do you hate happiness?”
Megan: “Genuine question. Do you think love is a government scam?”
Jungwon: “We have receipts. He’s been in love with you for years. Years, M/N.”
You run a hand down your face. “Okay, okay. I get it. I might like him.”
They all whined.
Ni-ki: “MIGHT??????? MIGHT??????????”
Megan: “You literally moaned his name in your sleep during a field trip, and I have it on audio.”
You choke. “WHY DO YOU HAVE THAT?!”
Sophia leaned closer to the camera. “You’re the only person who doesn’t realize this is real. Jake’s not playing. He hasn’t been playing.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Then Jungwon speaks, softly. Seriously.
“You’re going to lose him if you keep pretending you don’t want him the way you actually do.”
The silence hits different.
You blink, eyes a little glassy.
“...What if I don’t know how to want him the right way?”
Sophia’s voice is calm. Sure.
“You just have to stop running away from it.”
Another ding.
Jake.
It’s a picture. You and him. His hand half-visible in the foreground, your head resting against his shoulder. Taken today. You didn’t even know he snapped it.
“I think you’re my favorite thing.”
And for the first time…
You wonder why you’ve spent so long pretending you weren’t his too.
a/n: i’m cutting it here since i feel like it’s too long for my liking. i’ll post part 2 once i’m done with it. next part would tackle about how m/n would deal with his feelings for jake now that he learned to accept it to himself (also some heavy smut 😏). thank you so much to everyone who reads this and i hope you enjoyed it!
nerd bestfriend!jake teaching you how to squirt… with his dick :)
a/n: uhm, im not back. but this shit is too good to not share😞
>>>>>>>>>>
“okay, so—fuck—” jake hisses, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, fogged up from sweat, “so the, uh, the anterior vaginal wall is—shit—right here.”
he adjusts his grip on your thighs, pushing them up so your knees press to your chest, your pussy stretched wide around him, flushed and dripping. he’s buried deep, almost too deep, but you can’t think, can barely breathe, your hands fisting the sheets as you stare up at him.
he’s panting, face red, brows furrowed behind his glasses as he tries to keep himself from moving, trying to keep the “lesson” under control, but his cock keeps twitching inside you.
“j-jake,” you whimper, trying to move your hips, but he pins you down, glaring.
“stop, i’m teaching,” he snaps, but his voice is high, strained, as he tries to regain composure, pushing his glasses up with one trembling finger.
“a-anyway,” he continues, clearing his throat, “the g-spot is around two inches in, towards the belly button, and—fuck—when you stimulate it with the right pressure and rhythm—”
he shifts, pulling back slightly before rolling his hips forward, grinding against that spot, making your eyes roll back.
“you—ah, you feel that?” he stutters, his breath hitching, “th-that’s the—fuck, that’s the spot.”
your hands fly to his forearms, nails digging in, your body arching, “oh my god, jake—”
“and when you keep stimulating it, the skene’s glands—” he gasps as he thrusts again, “can cause—f-fuck—expulsion of fluid, which is—squirting—”
his voice cracks on the last word, his hips stuttering forward, cock dragging against your sweet spot again and again, your cunt fluttering around him.
“you’re clenching—shit, baby, you’re clenching too hard,” he moans, loud, glasses sliding down again as sweat drips onto your chest.
“jake, please, please—” you whine, tears pricking your eyes, your thighs shaking violently.
“s-shit, i’m—i’m trying to teach, okay?” he whines, loud and embarrassingly needy, “you just—fuck! you feel too good, it’s—so hard to—fuck!”
his hips snap forward harder, faster, despite himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tries to keep talking.
“n-need consistent pressure—like this—” he pants, grinding his cock deep, making you sob, “and—ah—angle towards the belly button, right there, right—fuck, right there—”
your vision blurs, a tight coil snapping as you scream, your body locking up before a sudden gush of liquid spills out around his cock, soaking his thighs, the sheets, everything.
“holy shit—holy fuck—” jake chokes out, hips jerking, cock twitching inside you as he pulls out fast, wrapping his hand around himself.
he strokes himself frantically, eyes wide behind his fogged glasses as he cums, thick ropes spilling over your pussy, your stomach, some of it dripping onto your folds, warm and messy.
“s-sorry, fuck, sorry, you just—” he whines, shivering as his cum leaks between your thighs, “you just feel too—fuck! too good.”
you’re both panting, your body still shaking, your pussy still leaking from your first squirt, your skin sticky with his cum and your own mess.
he looks down at you, cheeks flushed, hair a sweaty mess, glasses crooked, before letting out a soft, breathless laugh.
“so, uh,” he says, clearing his throat as he pushes his glasses up again, “that’s… how you squirt.”
you smack his arm weakly, but you’re laughing, tears slipping down your cheeks, your heart pounding, your body warm, your best friend looking at you like you just gave him a reason to live.
you meet jake during a college party and for some reason, he knows you.
contains: 18+ [MDNI], male reader, service top! jake, bratty bottom! reader, jake is the popular guy everyone likes, reader is a black cat, lots of passionate make-outs, body worship, first time, oral, big dick! jake, unprotected sex (wrap ur willy pls), jake is whipped, aftercare
You hated parties. Too loud. Too many people. Too much sweat and not enough air.
But your roommate had practically begged you to come—“Bro, it’s Jaeyun’s party. Sim Jaeyun. You don’t say no to that.” And maybe you shouldn’t have.
You weren’t exactly friends. You were the quiet type in class—kept your head down, made your grades, minded your own business. Jake? He was the opposite. The guy who danced on tables, flirted like breathing, looked too good even when he was late to class. You never thought he even knew your name.
But tonight… everything changed.
The house was packed wall-to-wall. Bodies swayed to the music. Lights pulsed like heartbeats. You ducked away from the chaos, slipping past the kitchen, past a laundry room—until you found it. A quiet back hallway with a dim red glow leaking through a half-open door.
You meant to just sit and breathe.
But when you pushed the door open, you found him.
Jake. Sim Jaeyun. Slouched against the wall. Half his red leather jacket slipping off his shoulder, hair messy from dancing, and that sleeveless shirt clinging to his chest—sweat making it near transparent.
He looked up. His eyes locked on you like you were a surprise he didn’t know he’d been waiting for.
“Didn’t think anyone else knew this part of the house existed,” he said, a crooked grin on his lips.
“I could say the same,” you muttered, heart hammering in your chest.
He pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer. The music still pulsed outside, but it felt far away now. Like the world had narrowed down to just this hallway. Just the two of you. Just him.
“You’re… Y/N, right?” he asked, voice low, playful.
Your breath caught. “You… know my name?”
Jake smirked. “Of course. You’re the quiet guy who always wears those oversized hoodies. I notice more than people think.”
You were stunned into silence.
He stepped closer again, and now you could see the way his chain gleamed under the dim light, the way his chest rose and fell just a little faster. “You looked like you didn’t wanna be at the party either,” he murmured. “Thought maybe you’d understand.”
You nodded slowly, but your voice betrayed you. “Yeah… I get it. Too many eyes.”
Jake tilted his head. “Then maybe we can look at each other instead.”
Before you could reply, he closed the distance—and kissed you.
Hot, slow, testing. You gasped against his lips, and he took that as permission, tilting your chin up and deepening it. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you back into the wall, and your head spun.
“I’ve wanted to do that since midterms,” he confessed against your neck, breath hot, fingers curling into your shirt. “The way you look when you're reading? Fuck.”
You were drowning in him—his scent, his heat, the slick brush of his lips on your jaw.
“Jake—someone might—”
He silenced you with another kiss, this one rougher, more desperate. “Let them,” he whispered. “They’ll just see me kissing the guy who actually makes me lose my mind.”
Your body was pressed flush against the cold wall now, Jake’s hand slipping under your shirt. His touch was fire, his mouth tracing your collarbone, biting softly, then licking the sting away.
You whimpered.
“Shhh, baby,” he cooed, lips brushing your ear. “Can’t have you being loud if we’re gonna keep this secret, yeah?”
You nodded, flushed and breathless.
His hand slid lower, and your hips bucked into him instinctively. Jake groaned.
“Fuck, you're sensitive,” he muttered. “I haven’t even touched you properly yet.”
“Then do it,” you challenged, surprising even yourself.
Jake’s eyes darkened.
“Oh, you have no idea what you just unlocked.”
You didn’t know how it happened. One second, you were pinned against the hallway wall, Jake’s mouth devouring every sound you made. The next, his fingers had laced through yours and pulled you—half-dazed and fully aroused—up the creaking stairs, past the noise, past the crowd.
To his room.
He closed the door behind you with a soft click that somehow sounded louder than the music downstairs. The room was warm, dimly lit with fairy lights tangled across the headboard. A poster half-ripped on one wall, cologne bottles on a cluttered dresser, an unmade bed that you suddenly couldn’t look away from.
Jake didn’t say a word at first. Just looked at you. Really looked. Like he was deciding where to touch first.
He took off his chain slowly, eyes never leaving yours. Then the red leather jacket. He tossed it on the desk chair without care, like he’d done this a hundred times—but tonight, something about his hands screamed restraint.
“You okay?” he asked gently, stepping closer.
“Yeah,” you whispered, voice a little shaky. “You?”
Jake gave you that soft half-smile again, the one that made your knees weak. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
Then his hands were on you again—one gripping your waist, the other sliding under your shirt, fingertips ghosting over your skin like he was memorizing you. You shivered.
He kissed you this time with less urgency, more intent. His lips moved like he had time. Like he wanted you to feel everything. And you did—your heart beating so hard it echoed in your ears, your body arching instinctively into his.
You grabbed at his shirt, dragging your nails lightly down his side. “Off,” you said, voice low, breathless.
Jake chuckled, low and teasing. “Yes, sir.”
He pulled the sleeveless shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor, revealing sweat-slicked skin, toned chest, collarbones you wanted to worship. You swallowed hard.
Your hands moved without thinking, tracing up his abs, then his chest, pausing when he let out the softest sound—a choked gasp that made your body burn.
“Fuck,” he murmured, tilting his head back. “Keep doing that.”
You stepped forward, pushing him gently toward the bed until the backs of his knees hit the edge. He let you, eyes wide and full of hunger. You kissed down his jaw, then lower, until your mouth reached the curve of his throat. He let out a sharp breath, his hands gripping the sheets behind him.
“Y/N,” he breathed, voice cracking, “if you keep teasing me like this, I might forget I’m supposed to take care of you too.”
You smirked against his skin. “Who said you had to take the lead?”
Jake let out a surprised little laugh. “Damn. Quiet guy’s got a mouth on him.”
But even as he said it, he pushed you down—slow, gentle, guiding you to your knees between his legs. His hand tangled in your hair like he’d been dreaming of it.
“You don’t have to—” he started, breath hitching.
“I want to,” you said.
He didn’t say another word.
Just watched you, lips parted, eyes dark as you undid his belt, pulled his jeans down just enough, and saw the outline of everything he’d been holding back.
He was packing. His length was probably around 6.5 to 7 inches, maybe a bit more. The girth was unfairly satisfying. Not baseball-bat thick, but thick enough that you could already feel your jaw going numb just by looking at it.
“Holy shit,” you muttered.
Jake bit his lip, trying not to look smug—and failing. “Still want to play quiet now?”
You didn’t answer.
You just opened your mouth.
His reaction? Immediate. A curse, then a gasp. His hand tightening in your hair, not to control—just to ground himself. His head hit the wall behind him.
“F-fuck, Y/N—oh my god—”
You worked him slow, steady. Tongue tracing every inch. Every whimper from him went straight to your core. He was losing it. For you.
“Look at me,” he begged, voice breaking.
You did.
And he almost came from just that.
Before he could do so though, he gently pulled your head away and in a moment, his lips were already on yours again.
Next thing you knew, you were lying on his bed, hearts racing, skin buzzing from everything that happened before. Jake was hovering over you, his hand cupping your cheek like you were something fragile, precious—his.
“I…” You swallowed hard. “I’ve never done this before.”
Jake’s eyes widened slightly, but not in surprise. More like—relief? Awe?
“Okay,” he whispered. One hand brushed your hair away from your face. “Okay. We’ll take it slow. We’ll stop if you need to, yeah?”
You nodded, your fingers tightening around his wrist.
He kissed your forehead. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure,” you breathed, voice small but steady. “Just… be gentle?”
Jake smiled, soft and sincere, and kissed you again—this time like he was promising you something sacred.
“I will. I’ll take care of you, baby.”
He took his time with everything. His hands explored you like a map—fingertips memorizing every spot that made you gasp, shiver, arch. He slicked his fingers, prepping you carefully—watching your face with every motion, kissing you through every wince and whimper.
When he was done, he was about to stand up when you suddenly locked your legs on his hips. He looked at you, gentle yet a raw desire radiating from his eyes.
“Wait, baby. I’ll just get a condom from my pocket—”
“Don’t,” you almost whimpered. “I want you, Jake.”
You could see him swallow hard. At that moment, you knew. This wasn't some random heat-of-the-moment hookup in a grimy frat house bathroom.
No—
This was Sim Jaeyun taking his time with you, treating your first time like it meant something. Because it did—to both of you.
And when he finally lined himself up, hands shaking slightly from how badly he wanted you, he asked one last time:
“You want me like this?” he murmured, rubbing the tip against you, voice strained. “No condom?
And you nodded, breath hitching, trusting him.
“I want to feel all of you.”
Jake went still, his jaw clenched—like your words broke something in him.
“Fuck… okay. I’ll go slow. I’ll be gentle. Just tell me if it’s too much, baby.”
He entered you slowly, inch by inch, whispering praise the whole time.
“You’re doing so well for me.”
“So tight… so good…”
“Just breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”
The stretch stung a little at first, but his lips were everywhere—your cheek, your jaw, your neck—until it turned into something warm and full and right. Your hands tangled in his hair, and he laced his fingers with yours.
He started to move—slow, careful, hips rolling deep and smooth. It wasn’t about roughness. It wasn’t about dominance. It was about you.
And you felt everything.
Jake moaning softly into your ear, his breath stuttering. The way he held your hand like he never wanted to let go. The tremble in his voice when he said your name like it was a prayer.
“Fuck, Y/N—you feel so good, baby.”
You gasped, your body clinging to him.
“I-I can’t believe it’s you,” you whispered, overwhelmed.
Jake slowed, buried deep inside you, and kissed you like the world had gone silent.
“Believe it,” he said against your lips. “You’re mine now.”
You felt the way his body shuddered as you clenched around him, how he buried himself deeper.
Your body was still trembling when Jake slowed his hips, now barely moving, just grinding gently into you like he didn’t want it to end. He was deep inside, both of you slick with sweat and release, your heart pounding against his chest.
You whimpered, breath stuttering. Your legs twitched around his waist, and Jake paused immediately, eyes wide, chest heaving.
“Too much?” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.
You nodded weakly, face buried into the crook of his neck.
Jake kissed your temple and murmured, “Okay, baby… okay, I’ve got you. I’m gonna pull out, nice and slow.”
You clung to him with a soft whine, not from pain—but from how full you’d been, how intimate it felt. Like if he left your body, he might take the moment with him.
Jake nuzzled your cheek, his hand smoothing over your back.
Then, carefully—achingly slow—he slid out of you.
Your body shuddered. You whimpered, your whole being hypersensitive, overstimmed. You could feel everything—his warmth leaving, the slick mess between your thighs, the way his hands held you like you might break.
“Shhh,” Jake whispered, kissing your shoulder. “You did so good for me…”
He stared down at the mess—his cock flushed, twitching slightly, your hole fluttering as it clenched on nothing—and his breath caught in his throat.
“Fuck… you took me so well, Y/N.”
You blushed, eyes hazy. You were spent. Wrecked. But god, you’d never felt so wanted.
He reached for a towel beside the bed and gently wiped you down, still kissing your skin as he did. Thigh. Belly. Inner knee. All soft, all reverent.
Then he pulled you into his chest, under the sheets, and held you like he needed you close to breathe.
You could still feel the ghost of him between your legs. The warmth. The fullness. The soft, satisfied ache.
Jake’s fingers traced circles on your lower back as he whispered,
“I’ve never… felt anything like that before.”
You turned your head, dazed and sleepy.
He smiled, nose brushing yours.
And with one last kiss to your forehead, he whispered, “Sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
The first thing you felt was… warm.
Then heavy. Then the soft rhythm of someone’s heartbeat against your cheek. You cracked your eyes open and were immediately met with golden sunlight filtering through half-closed blinds and the sight of Sim Jaeyun—shirtless, tousled, and very asleep.
His arm was slung around your waist, holding you close like a body pillow. His face was buried in your hair. His lips barely parted, breath fanning over your neck in slow exhales.
He looked younger like this. Softer. Like the boy who whispered praise into your ear hours ago wasn’t the same campus heartthrob everyone thirsted over at parties.
You smiled lazily… until you tried to move.
You shifted—just a little—and immediately winced.
“Ow—fuck.”
Jake stirred, eyebrows pulling together in a sleepy frown. His grip on your waist instinctively tightened.
“…Baby?” he mumbled, voice raspy and low. “You okay?”
You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “I’m fine. Just… y’know.”
Jake blinked awake, eyes squinting as he sat up slightly and looked down at you, concerned.
Then realization hit.
“Oh.” A slow, knowing smirk curled at his lips. “Is someone sore?”
You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”
But Jake was thriving. He propped himself up on one elbow, his chain still hanging around his neck from the night before, hair sticking out in every direction, eyes shining with sleepy smugness.
“Damn… I really did a number on you, huh?”
You tried to sit up again and instantly winced. Jake's smirk faded, replaced by something gentler. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
“Okay, okay, cocky moment over. Come here.”
He helped ease you upright, guiding your movements like you were made of glass.
Then he pulled the blanket around your shoulders and stood up—completely shirtless, of course—stretching with a satisfied groan that revealed way too much toned torso for this early in the morning.
He looked around the room and then the open door.
“…The house is a crime scene,” he muttered, grabbing his phone from the floor. “There’s… a sock in the toaster? What the f—”
You laughed softly, still sore, but the amusement overrode the ache. “You throwing another party tonight?”
Jake glanced over his shoulder with that stupidly hot lopsided grin. “Only if you’re staying over again.”
You flushed. “What if I say no?”
He padded over, leaning down until his face was inches from yours. His voice dropped.
“Then I’ll just have to do something that makes you say yes.”
You raised a brow. “Like what?”
Jake kissed you—slow and deep.
“You’ll see. But first, I’m making pancakes. You need to recover. My fault.”
He winked.
“Sorry… not sorry.”
You watched him walk off in nothing but boxers and messy hair, mumbling something about “protein and hydration” and “maybe an ice pack?” like the sweet, chaotic menace he was.
And somehow, even with the aching soreness between your legs, you already missed how he felt inside you.
