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Hey, can you please write one smut scenario where jake is a boxer and he uses mc as a stress reliever...

Thank you

OH THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST!!! or ask i mean someone used my hotline lol I get where you are coming from like boxer jake i see ittt

Anyways here you go. :))))))

🥊 — 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 | 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 🔞]

🗯️ 𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀:

He lost the fight, but you’re the one paying for it. Angry, bruised, and burning with jealousy, Jake doesn’t wait.

💥 𝗖𝗪:

Rough sex, degradation, praise kink, dom!Jake, impact play (hair pulling, choking), possessiveness, established relationship, unprotected sex, overstimulation, angry sex, pet names (slut, cumdump, good girl), filthy talk, light spit mention, semi-clothed sex, light humiliation, jealousy themes. DO NOT INTERACT if you’re under 18.

🎭 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲:

smut, pwp, boxer!au, established relationship, rage-fucking with feelings

📝 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 700

🖤 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗢𝗪

You hear the door slam, and that’s all the warning you get.

Jake storms in like a goddamn riot—sweaty, taped fists clenched, chest rising fast beneath his half-zipped hoodie. His jaw’s tight, lip split, knuckles bruised and bloodied.

He doesn’t say speak. Just stares.

That look in his eyes?

Dangerous.

“You good—?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, low and deadly, storming toward you. “On the bed. Face down.”

You freeze. Your heart spikes. Stomach drops. Thighs clench. But your legs? Already moving.

You’re barely on the mattress before his hand's fisting your hair, yanking your head back. The sound of your gasp is swallowed by the way his lips crash onto yours—desperate, angry, teeth dragging over your bottom lip.

“Open.”

Your jaw drops obediently. Breath shaky. Eyes half-lidded.

Jake stares at you like you're fucking nothing—and everything.

Then—

he spits.

Right onto your tongue.

“Swallow it.”

You do. With a whimper. Eyes never leaving his.

“You think I forgot the way you looked this morning?” he hisses. “Parading around the fcking gym in those little shorts like a goddamn toy. Everyone fcking staring.”

His voice is unhinged. But his hands?

One grabs your jaw. The other yanks down your pajama shorts—doesn’t even take them off, just shoves them down mid-thigh, panties dragged along with them, leaving you bent, exposed, helpless.

“Jake—”

“No. You don’t get to talk. Not when your tight little pussy’s the reason I lost tonight.”

His hand shoves your back down into the sheets.

"I lost." He mutters, almost to himself.

"Fucking lost, because I let shit distract me. Because of you."

You whimper as the wetness between your legs grow.

"Always in my head. Always fucking teasing, wearing shorts thinking I, i wouldn't notice?"

You hear the sharp sound of his zipper—then the low grunt as he pulls himself free, barely even tugging his sweats past his hips.

Then—

one hard thrust.

He thrusts into you in one brutal stroke, no prep no warning.

You scream. Literally scream. He’s thick, hot, already fully hard—slamming into you, splitting you open without mercy.

“FUCK,” he hisses, fingers digging into your hips. “So f*cking wet already. Knew you’d take it. You always do.”

You cry out, arching, breath knocked straight from your lungs. “F-Fuck, Jake—!”

“Yeah, that’s right. Take it,” he snarls, pace ruthless. “Take what you f*cking do to me.”

He’s unhinged—hands gripping your hips so tight you’ll bruise, his body slamming into yours like he wants to disappear inside you. Sweat drips from his jaw. Blood smears from his taped knuckles where they hold your thigh open.

“You’re so fucking useless,” he growls. “Can’t keep your legs closed. Can’t stop looking at me like you want me to ruin you.”

You whimper, legs shaking.

“But you love this, don’t you?” he leans down, nose brushing yours. “You love being my little stress relief. My filthy little hole.”

“Y-yes, Jake—please—”

“Say it,” he growls, hand sliding up your throat again. “Say you’re mine. Say you’re nothing but my good little cumdump.”

“Jake—please—s-slow down—”

“No,” he snaps. “You don’t get gentle tonight. You want to tease me? You take this.”

“You’re mine,” he growls, breath hot at your ear. “You hear me, baby? This body? This pussy? MINE.”

“Y-Yours—! Please, Jake, I’m yours—”

“Say it louder. I want the whole fucking building to hear who fucks you this good. I mean it's obviously me.”

You moan, arching back into him, thighs shaking.

“I’m yours, Jake! Only yours! F*ck—don’t stop—”

He grabs your throat, pulls your back flush to his chest. Still thrusting, still deep, still bruising you from the inside out.

Then his voice drops—

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” he murmurs, lips against your ear. “So fcking good for me. Always ready. Always wet. Always mine.”

He keeps going—praises you like a sinner. Degrades you like a demon

His pace stutters—hips jerking, thick cock twitching inside you.

He finishes with a groan so deep it rattles through your bones, filling you to the brim while whispering filth in your ear.

“Such a perfect fucking slut for me. Look at you—used, ruined, mine.”

And when he finally stills, forehead pressed to the back of your shoulder, breathing hard?

You smile.

Because he never feels more yours than when he’s falling apart inside you.

Mom Logic: The Ultimate Diagnosis 📱✨

I could have a literal arrow sticking out of my shoulder and my mom would look me dead in the eye and say, "Maybe if you put that phone down once in a while, things wouldn't happen to you." It doesn’t matter if it’s a stomach ache, a broken leg, or the wifi going out—the phone is the root of all evil in this house. Drake’s face in the Hotline Bling video is the only way to describe that specific level of confusion. We’re out here fighting for our lives and getting a lecture on screen time instead of a Tums. 🤡

If your mom thinks your phone caused the extinction of the dinosaurs, reblog this and follow for more relatable chaos! 🤳💥

Hey, can you please write one smut scenario where jake is a boxer and he uses mc as a stress reliever...

Thank you

OH THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST!!! or ask i mean someone used my hotline lol I get where you are coming from like boxer jake i see ittt

Anyways here you go. :))))))

🥊 — 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑'𝐒 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 | 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 [𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 🔞]

🗯️ 𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀:

He lost the fight, but you’re the one paying for it. Angry, bruised, and burning with jealousy, Jake doesn’t wait.

💥 𝗖𝗪:

🎭 𝗚𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲:

smut, pwp, boxer!au, established relationship, rage-fucking with feelings

📝 𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 700

🖤 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗢𝗪

You hear the door slam, and that’s all the warning you get.

Jake storms in like a goddamn riot—sweaty, taped fists clenched, chest rising fast beneath his half-zipped hoodie. His jaw’s tight, lip split, knuckles bruised and bloodied.

He doesn’t say speak. Just stares.

That look in his eyes?

Dangerous.

“You good—?”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, low and deadly, storming toward you. “On the bed. Face down.”

You freeze. Your heart spikes. Stomach drops. Thighs clench. But your legs? Already moving.

“Open.”

Your jaw drops obediently. Breath shaky. Eyes half-lidded.

Jake stares at you like you're fucking nothing—and everything.

Then—

he spits.

Right onto your tongue.

“Swallow it.”

You do. With a whimper. Eyes never leaving his.

“You think I forgot the way you looked this morning?” he hisses. “Parading around the fcking gym in those little shorts like a goddamn toy. Everyone fcking staring.”

His voice is unhinged. But his hands?

One grabs your jaw. The other yanks down your pajama shorts—doesn’t even take them off, just shoves them down mid-thigh, panties dragged along with them, leaving you bent, exposed, helpless.

“Jake—”

“No. You don’t get to talk. Not when your tight little pussy’s the reason I lost tonight.”

His hand shoves your back down into the sheets.

"I lost." He mutters, almost to himself.

"Fucking lost, because I let shit distract me. Because of you."

You whimper as the wetness between your legs grow.

"Always in my head. Always fucking teasing, wearing shorts thinking I, i wouldn't notice?"

You hear the sharp sound of his zipper—then the low grunt as he pulls himself free, barely even tugging his sweats past his hips.

Then—

one hard thrust.

He thrusts into you in one brutal stroke, no prep no warning.

You scream. Literally scream. He’s thick, hot, already fully hard—slamming into you, splitting you open without mercy.

“FUCK,” he hisses, fingers digging into your hips. “So f*cking wet already. Knew you’d take it. You always do.”

You cry out, arching, breath knocked straight from your lungs. “F-Fuck, Jake—!”

“Yeah, that’s right. Take it,” he snarls, pace ruthless. “Take what you f*cking do to me.”

“You’re so fucking useless,” he growls. “Can’t keep your legs closed. Can’t stop looking at me like you want me to ruin you.”

You whimper, legs shaking.

“But you love this, don’t you?” he leans down, nose brushing yours. “You love being my little stress relief. My filthy little hole.”

“Y-yes, Jake—please—”

“Say it,” he growls, hand sliding up your throat again. “Say you’re mine. Say you’re nothing but my good little cumdump.”

“Jake—please—s-slow down—”

“No,” he snaps. “You don’t get gentle tonight. You want to tease me? You take this.”

“You’re mine,” he growls, breath hot at your ear. “You hear me, baby? This body? This pussy? MINE.”

“Y-Yours—! Please, Jake, I’m yours—”

“Say it louder. I want the whole fucking building to hear who fucks you this good. I mean it's obviously me.”

You moan, arching back into him, thighs shaking.

“I’m yours, Jake! Only yours! F*ck—don’t stop—”

He grabs your throat, pulls your back flush to his chest. Still thrusting, still deep, still bruising you from the inside out.

Then his voice drops—

“Good. Fucking. Girl.” he murmurs, lips against your ear. “So fcking good for me. Always ready. Always wet. Always mine.”

He keeps going—praises you like a sinner. Degrades you like a demon

His pace stutters—hips jerking, thick cock twitching inside you.

He finishes with a groan so deep it rattles through your bones, filling you to the brim while whispering filth in your ear.

“Such a perfect fucking slut for me. Look at you—used, ruined, mine.”

And when he finally stills, forehead pressed to the back of your shoulder, breathing hard?

You smile.

Because he never feels more yours than when he’s falling apart inside you.

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