Movie nights with Jake had become a ritual since you both started college—a way to unwind after endless lectures, assignments, and the general chaos of university life. Tonight was supposed to be no different: your dorm room, dim lighting, snacks scattered across the bed, and whatever movie Jake had picked on Netflix.
"This one's supposed to be really good," Jake says as he settles beside you on the bed, remote in hand. He's wearing that oversized hoodie you love, the one that makes him look soft and boyfriend-shaped, his dark hair still slightly damp from the shower he took after basketball practice.
"You said that about the last three movies," you tease, stealing a piece of popcorn from the bowl balanced on his lap.
"Hey! I have great taste in movies," he protests, but he's grinning, that boyish smile that made you fall for him in the first place.
The movie starts—some indie film that Jake swore had great reviews—and for the first twenty minutes, you're both actually watching. You're curled into his side, his arm around your shoulders, thumb drawing absent-minded circles on your arm. It's comfortable, familiar, perfect.
Then his hand starts wandering.
It's subtle at first. His fingers trailing from your shoulder down your arm, then to your waist. His touch is light, almost teasing, like he's testing boundaries he's already crossed a hundred times before. You don't think much of it—Jake's always been tactile, touchy in a way that makes you feel wanted and cherished.
"You comfortable?" he murmurs, lips close to your ear.
"Mhm," you respond, eyes still on the screen even though you're becoming increasingly aware of his touch.
His hand slides under the hem of your (his) t-shirt, palm warm against your skin. Still innocent enough, still casual. But then his fingers start tracing patterns on your stomach, dipping just slightly lower with each pass, and you feel your breath catch.
"Jake," you whisper, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he responds.
"Hmm?"
"Are you even watching the movie?"
"Movie?" His hand slides higher, fingers brushing just below your breast. "Oh. Yeah. Totally watching."
You turn your head to look at him and find him already staring at you, eyes dark with want. The movie is completely forgotten, just flickering light and background noise at this point.
"You're such a liar," you breathe, but you're smiling.
"Can't help it," he admits, shifting so he's facing you more directly. "You're so much more interesting than whatever's on screen." His hand cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "You're so beautiful. Have I told you that today?"
"Like three times," you laugh softly, but your heart still flutters.
"Not enough then." He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that starts sweet but quickly deepens. His tongue traces your bottom lip, asking for entrance, and you grant it willingly. The taste of him—popcorn and mint from the gum he'd been chewing earlier—is familiar and intoxicating.
His hands are everywhere now, one tangled in your hair, the other sliding down your side, grabbing your hip, pulling you closer. The movie is definitely abandoned at this point, the plot completely lost as Jake kisses you like he's been starving for it.
"Missed you," he mumbles against your lips, which is ridiculous because you literally saw each other this morning.
"I'm right here," you point out, but he shakes his head.
"Not close enough. Never close enough." His lips trail from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, finding that spot that makes you gasp. "Can I... can we...?"
He's always so polite about it, always asking even though you've been together for months, even though the answer is always yes. It's one of the things you love about him—how he never assumes, never takes.
"Yes," you breathe, and you feel him smile against your skin.
He shifts, gently laying you back against the pillows, his body hovering over yours. The movie casts flickering shadows across his face as he looks down at you, and god, he's so beautiful it almost hurts. Dark eyes full of want, lips kiss-swollen, hair falling into his eyes.
"You're so perfect," he says softly, reverently, like he can't quite believe you're real. His hands slide under your shirt, pushing it up slowly, giving you plenty of time to stop him if you want. You don't want to stop him. You never want him to stop touching you.
"Jake," you whimper as his lips find your collarbone, kissing, sucking, definitely leaving marks that you'll have to cover up tomorrow.
"Love the sounds you make," he murmurs against your skin. "Could listen to you all day."
His hands are working at your shorts now, fingers hooking into the waistband. He looks up at you, eyes seeking permission even though his fingers are literally trembling with want.
"Please," you say, lifting your hips to help him, and the groan he makes is absolutely sinful.
"So eager for me," he says, and there's something almost awed in his voice as he pulls your shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion. "So pretty."
He settles between your legs, hands on your thighs, and just looks at you for a moment. The intensity of his gaze makes you squirm, makes you want to close your legs, but his grip keeps them open.
"Don't hide from me," he says softly. "Want to see all of you."
"Jake, please—" You're not even sure what you're asking for, just that you need more, need him closer, need his mouth on you.
"I've got you, baby," he promises, and then his mouth is on your inner thigh, kissing, biting gently, working his way up with agonizing slowness. "Gonna take care of you."
When his mouth finally reaches where you need him most, the first touch of his tongue makes you gasp, hands flying to his hair. He groans against you, the vibration making you whimper.
"Taste so good," he mumbles, and then he's diving in like a man starved, tongue working you with single-minded focus. He's always been enthusiastic about this, always acted like getting you off is his favorite activity, and the way he's moaning against you makes it clear he's enjoying this as much as you are.
Your fingers tighten in his hair, and he groans again, the sound muffled but desperate. One of his hands grips your thigh, keeping you open for him, while the other slides up to interlace with yours, grounding you both.
"Jake—fuck—right there—" Your words dissolve into incoherent sounds as he focuses on your clit, alternating between broad strokes with his tongue and focused attention that has you seeing stars.
He pulls back just enough to speak, chin glistening. "You're so responsive for me. So perfect. Love making you feel good." Then he's back, adding a finger alongside his tongue, and the combination has you arching off the bed.
"That's it," he encourages between movements. "Let me hear you. Don't hold back."
You couldn't hold back if you tried. Every movement of his tongue, every curl of his fingers inside you draws sounds from your throat that should probably be embarrassing but you're too far gone to care. The movie is still playing in the background, completely ignored, just white noise compared to the sounds Jake is pulling from you.
"So close," you gasp, and you feel him smile against you.
"I know, baby. I can feel it. Come for me. Want to taste you." His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you cry out, and his tongue focuses on your clit with determined precision.
The combination sends you over the edge, pleasure crashing through you in waves that have you gasping his name like a prayer. He works you through it, tongue gentle now, fingers slowing but not stopping until you're pulling at his hair, too sensitive for more.
He presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before crawling back up your body, face flushed, lips swollen, eyes bright with satisfaction. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his tongue, and it should probably be weird but it's just hot.
"You're incredible," he murmurs against your lips. "Could do that forever."
golden boy hard dom!Jake x masturbation addict f!reader
ENHA HARD HOURSSSSSSSSSSS 18+ MDNI: masturbation so much of it, really not suitable for work, weed smoking, temp play, filming, ass play, vibrator. this is the filthiest shit i have ever written in my life type shit. but also fluffy so its fine. plot? what plot
your mornings follow a strict routine:
wake up. Ignore your alarm.
Spread your legs and ruin yourself to the thought of Jake Sim.
he doesn’t know you exist. star student, always on time. you stumble into class late, wrecked, barely holding it together.
you get paired up for a project. when he figures out why you’re always late?
you’re fucked. literally.
You woke up soaked. Literally, fucking soaked, the sheets beneath you damp with sweat and slick from how hard you’d been grinding against them in your sleep. It was always like this—an unbearable need that gripped you before you were even fully conscious. And you knew exactly who caused it.
Jake Sim.
The moment your hazy mind conjured up his name, your pussy gave a hard throb, as if your body was starved for him. It didn’t matter that you’d never even held a real conversation. All that mattered was that he existed—perfect, unattainable—and you were so pathetically desperate for him that you’d turned it into a daily routine.
With a shaky sigh, you slid your hand under the thin waistband of your panties, fingers pressing into the sticky mess already pooling there. You hissed out a curse at how sensitive you were, thighs twitching as your digits smeared your own arousal around your clit.
“Fuck,” you whispered, voice breaking, as your eyes fluttered shut and your mind fed you the same filthy fantasies it always did. In them, Jake was every bit the cocky bastard you imagined him to be—towering over you, smirking with that lazy confidence, telling you to spread your legs wider so he could see just how ruined you were for him.
You could practically hear his voice:
“That’s it, baby. Show me how wet you are.”
A guttural moan fell from your lips. Your fingers trembled as you sank them deeper, sliding between your folds until you were massaging the swollen, throbbing knot of nerves that made your back arch off the mattress. Every movement sent sparks racing up your spine, and you chased the friction like a fucking addict—because that’s exactly what you were: addicted to the thought of him.
Your other hand fumbled for your phone, nearly dropping it on your face in your clumsy rush. The screen glowed to life, and you immediately opened that private folder. The nerve-wracking thrill of seeing your own explicit videos made your pulse throb.
Your finger hovered over the most recent one for half a second, heart hammering. Then you pressed play.
Instantly, the room filled with the ragged sounds of your recorded moans. On the screen, you were splayed out, hips rolling in a shameless rhythm as you fucked your own fingers like your life depended on it. The memory of that moment made your cheeks burn, but it also made you fucking wetter.
“Jake… please… fuck—” your recorded voice whimpered, your cheeks flushed and your tits bouncing with each thrust of your own hand.
The real you let out a choked noise, clit pulsing under your insistent fingertips. You drove them harder against your flesh, trying to match the frantic pace you’d seen in the video. A filthy squelch echoed in the room, your soaked folds giving you away, and you bit your lip to stifle a cry.
God, you were so damn desperate. It made you feel dirty as hell—and yet, you couldn’t stop. In your mind, you pictured Jake looming over you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. He’d probably sneer down at you, that smug grin twisting his gorgeous mouth, telling you how pathetic you looked, cumming all over your own damn fingers just for him.
“Such a fucking slut,” you imagined him saying, and your body convulsed.
You rammed your fingers harder against your slick heat, each drag of your knuckles sending you spiraling higher. Your recorded moans continued to play on loop, mixing with your real ones until you couldn’t tell which was which. Every muscle in your body tensed, bracing for the orgasm that was cresting in your gut like a tidal wave.
“Jake,” you whimpered. It was a half-sob, half-prayer. “Jake, oh God—”
And then it hit.
Your orgasm slammed into you, white-hot and wrenching. Your hips jerked off the bed, your thighs squeezing around your hand so tightly you could barely move. A harsh, broken sound tore from your throat as your body locked up, wave after wave of bliss rippling through your core. You ground your fingers against your clit one last time, milking every second of the high until you thought you’d black out.
Finally, you collapsed, trembling, onto the mattress, breath sawing in and out of your lungs. Your vision blurred with unshed tears from the sheer intensity. Slowly, the quivering in your limbs began to subside, and you eased your damp fingers from between your legs, wincing at how oversensitive you already were.
For a moment, all you could do was lie there, the sticky remains of your orgasm coating your inner thighs, your mind still buzzing with echoes of Jake’s name. You felt disgusting, you felt euphoric—you felt alive in a way that made you crave more.
But reality crashed down the second you glanced at the time on your phone. Fifteen minutes until class started.
“Shit,” you whispered, bolting upright so fast your head spun. Your legs wobbled when you tried to stand, a dull ache centered between your legs reminding you of just how hard you’d gone. You grabbed the first hoodie you saw, yanked it over your head, and fished around for a pair of rumpled jeans from the floor. There was no time to shower, no time to even catch your breath.
As you dashed out of your room, the remnants of your orgasm still clung to your thighs, a humiliating reminder of why you were late in the first place. You couldn’t help but picture what Jake would say if he ever found out the real reason you stumbled through that lecture hall door every day, hair a mess and cheeks still flushed from your obscene morning routine.
He’d probably smirk, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “Couldn’t get enough of me, huh?”
The thought made your cheeks flare with shameful heat as you tore across campus, trying not to trip over your own feet. You’d never let him find out—you were certain it would kill you. Yet, a tiny voice in the back of your mind wondered what it would be like if he did know. If he whispered filthy praise in your ear about how you were always late because you were too busy drenching your sheets for him.
Your core clenched at the mental image, and you forced yourself to shove it down. There was no time for daydreams—you were late enough as it was, and your professor was already on the verge of losing his patience with you.
Still, no matter how many times you told yourself you couldn’t keep doing this, you knew you would.
Tomorrow morning, you’d wake up soaked again, thighs trembling, and you’d inevitably plunge your fingers back into that slick warmth while moaning Jake’s name. The filthy cycle would continue, and you wouldn’t be able to stop it, because nothing else felt as good as imagining him breaking you into a moaning, dripping mess.
As you reached the lecture hall, panting and disheveled, you couldn’t help but wonder: what if—just what if—Jake Sim ever saw exactly how bad you had it for him?
But that was a thought for another day, another dirty, mind-shattering morning.
Because you both knew: this wouldn’t be the last time you came undone at the mention of his name.
-
You were already a mess when you stumbled through the lecture hall doors, breath ragged and heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. You were late. Again. The professor’s disapproving glare followed you as you practically crashed into your usual seat in the back row, muttering a hastily whispered apology under your breath.
God, you probably looked like you’d rolled straight out of bed—which, let’s be honest, you basically had. Not that you’d been sleeping. No, you’d spent your precious morning minutes rubbing out a frantic orgasm, fueled by thoughts of Jake Sim and all the ways he could ruin you if he ever laid a hand on your needy, desperate body.
Your clit still throbbed with the memory.
You tried to steady your breathing, force your mind to focus on the lecture happening around you. But your professor’s words were just a dull roar in your ears. You caught phrases like “group project” and “semester-long assignment,” but your brain refused to process them, still half-fogged from the wave of pleasure you’d torn out of yourself not fifteen minutes ago.
Then the professor called your name.
You blinked, snapping out of your daze just in time to see that he was pairing you off with someone. The rest of the class fell silent, heads turning toward you as you awkwardly cleared your throat, cheeks warming under the sudden attention.
“Jake Sim,” the professor said, scanning the attendance sheet. “You and Jake will be partners for the entire project.”
Your entire body stiffened.
Jake Sim.
Jake fucking Sim.
Your clit gave a punishing pulse at the mere mention of his name, so strong it sent a hot jolt of need straight through your core. You barely managed to swallow a gasp, thighs clenching under the desk as if that might calm the ache.
Across the room, Jake lifted his head. He had been taking notes, or maybe doodling—hell if you knew. He looked up when he heard his name, and his eyes flicked briefly over to you. He didn’t seem particularly surprised or amused. He just…nodded. Like it was no big deal.
Meanwhile, you sat there, completely frozen, trying not to let your face betray the fact that your cunt was literally fluttering at the prospect of spending hours—hours—with him on this project. Your mind spun with a million frantic thoughts: how were you supposed to look him in the eye when you had fingered yourself that same morning while moaning his name?
You almost wanted to run.
But there was nowhere to go, and the professor’s gaze was still locked on you, waiting for some sign of acknowledgment. So you forced a nod, swallowing hard, your pulse thundering in your ears.
When class finally ended, you practically bolted up from your seat, gathering your things in a clumsy rush. All you could think about was escaping before you did something mortifying—like spontaneously combusting from the intensity of the situation.
But you weren’t fast enough.
Jake Sim stood waiting for you in the aisle. You noticed, with a sinking sensation in your stomach, that he was even taller up close, shoulders broad under that signature hoodie, a slight quirk to his full lips as he watched you fluster about.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low but clear in the post-lecture murmur. “Guess we’re partners, huh?”
Your heart just about crawled up your throat and died there. You couldn’t form coherent words. Instead, you let out some pathetic sound halfway between a squeak and a cough.
Jake’s brows rose a fraction, and that quirk at the corner of his lips deepened. “You okay?”
No. Absolutely not. Your palms were sweating, your cheeks were on fire, and your core was still buzzing with the aftereffects of your morning orgasm. Knowing he was so close—close enough to smell the faint hint of laundry detergent clinging to his hoodie—nearly made your knees buckle.
“Uh, yeah,” you managed, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Just—tired.”
“Tired,” he echoed, giving you an appraising once-over. “Rough morning?”
You swallowed, a traitorous flush creeping up your neck. He had no idea just how rough.
“Something like that,” you muttered, pretending to rummage in your backpack to avoid meeting his gaze.
Jake shrugged. “Well, we should probably figure out a time to meet up for the project. Professor wants a proposal next week.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, so…normal. Meanwhile, your head was spinning because you were about to be in a room alone with him, studying economics, while your body screamed for him to fuck you senseless.
“Uh, yeah,” you repeated, feeling like a malfunctioning robot. “We…should definitely do that.”
God, you wanted to slap yourself. Could you be any more awkward?
Jake tilted his head, brown eyes flicking over you again, a subtle curiosity in his gaze. “How about tomorrow? Afternoon?”
Tomorrow. That meant you had less than twenty-four hours to get your shit together—to not end up a quivering puddle of arousal at his feet. Less than a day to build up some sort of immunity to his existence.
But you nodded anyway, because what else could you do? “Sure. Works for me.”
He gave a little smile, just a quick curve of his mouth, but it was enough to make your stomach tighten painfully. “Cool. I’ll, uh—text you, I guess?”
“Yeah. Text. Right.”
Your tongue felt leaden and stupid, and your heart hammered wildly against your ribcage. You wondered if he could hear it—wondered if he’d notice the pulse beating in your throat or sense the way your entire body vibrated with the memory of your morning orgasm.
But Jake just nodded again, hands sliding into the pockets of his hoodie. “See you tomorrow, then.”
He turned and left, effortlessly blending into the crowd of students filtering out the door. You stood there like an idiot, your mind replaying the conversation, analyzing every second for hints of pity or amusement on his part.
He didn’t seem weirded out. Didn’t seem suspicious of why you were so…flustered. He’d probably forget about you the moment he headed to his next class.
Meanwhile, you?
You tried to breathe, leaning heavily against one of the desks as you clutched your notes to your chest. Your thighs pressed together, a pitiful attempt to quell the ache that refused to leave you alone. It was as if your body recognized him on some primal level and refused to let go of the fact that he was standing right in front of you.
He had no idea how badly you wanted him—no clue you literally jacked off to his name almost every morning, that you were always late because you were too busy chasing orgasm after orgasm in a delirious haze of lust.
Well, now you’d have to fake it—pretend that you were normal, that you weren’t some perverted mess drooling over him in secret. You just hoped you could keep it together, especially once you were locked in a study room together, going over spreadsheets and supply-demand curves while your body screamed for something entirely different.
And worst of all, you had the sinking feeling that tomorrow’s routine wouldn’t be any different. You’d probably still wake up, still stroke your throbbing clit to the thought of Jake’s voice, Jake’s hands, Jake’s cock…
But maybe, just maybe, you’d manage not to be late this time.
Fat chance.
-
Studying with Jake Sim was a fucking nightmare—in the filthiest, most torturous way possible.
He had this infuriating habit of showing up in the laziest outfits imaginable, usually some combination of sweatpants and a hoodie. You might’ve thought the casual attire would make him look approachable or less intimidating, but it only did the opposite. He wore those gray sweats like a second skin, settling into his chair with an ease that bordered on sinful. His legs spread obscenely wide, claiming space that shouldn’t be his to claim.
The hoodie was somehow worse. It clung to his broad shoulders, emphasizing the sharp line of his collarbones and the solid build of his chest. And since he always—always—rolled his sleeves up to the elbows, you were treated to the tantalizing sight of his forearms: faint veins tracing a path over lightly tanned skin, muscles shifting whenever he flexed his fingers or picked up a pen.
It drove you insane.
Every time he tilted his head in thought, his hair would slip across his forehead, drawing attention to the dark, intense eyes beneath. Sometimes he licked his lips—absently, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it—and every time it happened, a low, pulsing heat rippled through your stomach.
But the worst part? Jake had a thing for tits.
You first noticed it in the little stuff: the way his gaze drifted south whenever you leaned over your notes, the split-second hesitation in his voice if your shirt happened to be cut too low. His eyes would flick to your chest, then dart away so quickly you’d think you’d imagined it—except the slight tension in his jaw proved otherwise.
He tried to hide it. Tried to keep himself polite and focused on the assignment, but the more you studied together, the more obvious it became. He had to physically force himself not to stare, clenching his jaw or gripping his pen with a little too much force whenever your shirt shifted in just the right way.
Eventually, you decided to test him.
One night, you showed up at his place wearing a tight little tank top—no bra underneath, of course. The fabric hugged your curves, thin enough that your nipples peaked through whenever the room got too cold. You pretended to be completely oblivious, scrolling through your laptop as though there wasn’t a very obvious reason Jake’s gaze kept snagging on your chest.
His reaction was immediate. The second you walked in, his eyes darkened, pupils dilating as they betrayed his interest. He coughed, cleared his throat, and busied himself with the project notes, but he couldn’t hide the subtle tremor in his voice when he asked, “So, um, ready to start?”
You dragged a chair up to the small desk, taking care to sit opposite him so he’d have an unobstructed view. For a while, you both pretended to work—typing away, sorting through textbooks, exchanging random facts about supply and demand. But every time you spoke, his attention drifted down, no matter how hard he tried to stay focused on your face.
Your heart pounded every time you caught him looking. Desire coiled low in your belly, and your nipples tightened beneath the thin fabric, practically begging for him to notice. Your entire body thrummed with this heady mixture of confidence and need, and you couldn’t help but push it further.
“Ugh, it’s so hot in here,” you sighed dramatically, arching your back to stretch. The movement sent your breasts straining against the tank top, and you saw Jake’s jaw clench, the tendons in his neck standing out as he forced himself not to stare directly at you.
He tried to keep his cool, but his next words came out more clipped than usual. “I can open the window.”
You shrugged, letting the straps of the tank top slide a fraction of an inch down your shoulder. “Nah,” you said, voice laced with feigned innocence. “Don’t worry about it.”
The tension in the air was palpable, an almost electric charge crackling between you. Your thighs pressed together beneath the desk, desperate for some kind of friction. You could practically feel his gaze lingering on your chest when you looked away, fueling that simmering warmth between your legs.
Finally, Jake snapped.
“You do that shit on purpose, don’t you?” he muttered, voice pitched low and tight enough to send shivers skittering down your spine.
You fought the smirk threatening to curve your lips. Your stomach flipped with excitement and arousal. “Do what?” you asked, feigning obliviousness, even though your heart was about to hammer out of your chest.
He exhaled slowly, eyes flicking to the tank top that was barely containing your chest. “You know what,” he ground out, then made a visible effort to calm himself, dragging his gaze to your face.
It took everything in you not to let out a triumphant laugh. You could see the frustration warring with desire in his dark eyes, saw the way his fingers curled into fists as if he had to physically restrain himself. There was a fine tremor in his forearms—those fucking forearms—that made your insides clench with a perverse satisfaction.
Your own arousal pulsed, nipples practically aching as they brushed against the fabric. There was this suffocating urge to crawl into his lap, to press your tits against his chest and see just how fast you could break that composure. But you held back. Because that wasn’t the plan. Not yet.
“I’m just trying to study,” you said, tone as sweet as sugar, batting your eyelashes in an overdone performance of innocence.
Jake’s stare hardened, and for a moment, you thought he might say something brash—something that would make the air sizzle. But he merely set his jaw, took a long, measured breath, and turned back to the notes.
“Right. Study,” he mumbled, jaw working like he was trying to chew through nails.
You bit your lip to smother a grin, your pulse still thrumming in your ears from the pure, uncut tension between you. Your nipples were so stiff they practically throbbed; you had to shift in your seat to accommodate the constant, nagging ache in your core.
Nothing else happened that night—no heated kisses, no tangled limbs—but it didn’t need to. The filth was already there, simmering beneath every glance, every roll of his shoulders, every suppressed flick of his gaze toward your tits. You could sense the unspoken hunger radiating off him like heat waves, matching the relentless heartbeat pounding in your own chest.
And that was more than enough to leave you soaking by the time you finally left.
-
You woke up with a pounding need at the base of your spine. It was deeper than usual, an ache that gnawed at you relentlessly, demanding satisfaction. The worst part? You already knew exactly who you were going to picture to take the edge off:
Jake Sim.
Every nerve in your body thrummed with anticipation, remembering the way he’d looked at you during your last study session—eyes flickering from your face down to your chest, jaw clenched like he was fighting some internal battle. You’d left his dorm with slick thighs and your mind racing, your entire body aflame.
Today, you wanted to push your usual routine even further. Your fingers alone wouldn’t cut it. With your teeth worrying your bottom lip, you slipped out of bed and rummaged through your nightstand until your hand closed around the small, discreet vibrator you’d impulsively bought a few weeks ago. It was sleek, silicone-coated, made for exactly the kind of play you were craving.
You bit back a trembling sigh and grabbed your phone, propping it against a pillow at the foot of your bed. The little red light began to blink, capturing you in all your messy, unmade-bed glory—hair tangled, cheeks still carrying the warmth of sleep, and a fiercely determined look in your eyes.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you whispered, half to yourself, half to the imaginary version of Jake you conjured whenever you got off.
But you didn’t hesitate. You shed your oversized T-shirt, tossing it aside to expose bare skin. Your nipples peaked in the cool air, and you ran a hand over one breast, giving it a light squeeze before trailing your palm down over your stomach. You settled into the pillows, propping your hips up slightly so the camera had a perfect view.
“Jake,” you murmured, letting your thighs fall apart, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Your free hand teased your clit, already slick with arousal, while the other clutched the vibrator. The buzzing anticipation in your veins intensified as you clicked it on, feeling the soft hum rattle against your palm.
Normally, you’d sink it straight into your cunt, but today, you were craving something more depraved. Your breath hitched at the thought of that taboo stretch you barely ever indulged—your ass. The mere idea of Jake guiding it inside you, watching you squirm as you took it deeper, was enough to send a fresh gush of heat through your body.
“Fuck,” you mumbled, heart hammering as you angled the toy behind you. “Jake, I want you…want you here.”
Carefully, you smeared your own wetness over the silicone, letting your middle finger gather some of the slick so it’d slide in smoothly. A gasp broke from your throat the moment you pressed the vibrator’s tip to that tight ring of muscle—just the tiniest bit of pressure made your nerves light up like a live wire.
You couldn’t help the shameless moan that echoed off your bedroom walls. Even though it was just the tip, the sensation had you delirious. You spread your cheeks with one hand, guiding the buzzing silicone in a fraction of an inch, your body tensing and then relaxing around it. A ragged whine tore from your lips.
You could almost feel Jake’s hands there, big and warm, whispering filth in your ear:
“Relax. You can take it. Just like that—fuck, look at you…”
Your other hand found your clit, rubbing messy circles that turned your moans into broken sobs of pleasure. Each slow push of the vibrator inched deeper, stretching you in a way that made your eyes roll back.
“Nngh—Jake, please,” you babbled, voice shaking as you tried to push it just a bit further. “Wish it was your cock…wish you’d pin me down and shove it all the way in…”
You couldn’t hold back. The pressure and vibration melded into something explosive, your clit throbbing under your frantic fingertips. Every muscle in your body coiled tighter, lungs seizing as you hovered on the precipice. The camera recorded it all—the sweat beading at your temples, the flushed curve of your cheeks, the wet, filthy sounds filling the room.
Then it hit. Your orgasm came crashing down, ripping a strangled scream from your throat. Your legs shook, your ass clamping around the toy, your cunt pulsing in sympathy. You writhed against the sheets, half-blinded by the force of it, tears pricking your eyes from the overwhelming relief.
It felt like forever before you could breathe again, the buzz in your nerves slowly receding. You eased the vibrator out, wincing at the hyper-sensitivity, then stopped the recording with a trembling hand. On the screen, the thumbnail showed a glimpse of you with your mouth open in a silent cry, body arched off the bed, pure rapture etched on your face.
Fuck. If Jake ever saw that…
But there wasn’t time for guilt or second thoughts. A glance at the clock made your heart plummet—it was late, and you had to scramble to get to class before your professor threatened to fail you for tardiness. Again.
You only managed a quick wipe-down, barely rinsing the toy and tossing it in a drawer, before you yanked on clothes and sprinted out the door, phone still warm in your pocket from the video you’d just recorded.
The lecture hall was already half-full when you snuck in. You found your seat, cheeks still hot from both the run across campus and the memory of the vibrator filling your ass less than an hour ago. You avoided Jake’s eyes completely, which was easy because he was focused on the front of the class—though you could still feel the tension that seemed to magnetize you whenever he was close.
Throughout the lesson, your mind wandered, replaying the moment of penetration, the hum of the toy, the fantasy of Jake’s hands gripping your hips. You clenched your thighs under the desk, wishing you could burn the images out of your head.
Little did you know, in just a few hours, your world would implode in the filthiest way imaginable.
That evening, you met Jake for a study session in his dorm. The room was small but cozy, a lived-in space with a single bed in the corner, textbooks piled on the floor. He greeted you at the door, wearing a fitted T-shirt that stretched across his shoulders in a way that made your pulse flutter.
“Hey,” he said, stepping aside so you could walk in. “Let’s try to knock out the rest of the research tonight.”
You nodded stiffly, mouth dry. You were always too aware of him—his scent, the way the muscle in his jaw worked when he concentrated, the slight furrow of his brows. It didn’t help that you’d spent your morning taking a vibrator in your ass, moaning his name like you were possessed.
You settled at the small desk with your laptop, while Jake sat on the bed flipping through a shared Google Doc on his phone. The tension was thick enough to taste. Sometimes you swore you caught him watching you from the corner of his eye, but every time you glanced over, he was scrolling or typing, expression neutral.
After about twenty minutes, the soda you’d chugged on your way over came back to haunt you. You needed the bathroom—badly.
“I’ll be right back,” you muttered, closing your laptop’s lid but not fully locking it. Nerves and bladder pressure made you forget the simplest precaution: you’d left a minimized window open from transferring your new “vibrator video” into your private folder.
Jake just nodded. “Sure. Down the hall, last door on the left.”
You slipped out of the dorm, heart still fluttering, mind on autopilot. The hallway was dimly lit, and you disappeared into the bathroom, exhaling a relieved sigh once the door clicked shut.
Alone in the room, Jake glanced at your laptop, noticing the faint glow beneath the lid. Curiosity—mixed with something deeper—bubbled in his chest. He’d been suspecting something was up with you, ever since you arrived late looking thoroughly wrecked every morning. The tension you carried around him was obvious, and he’d caught glimpses of…subtle clues.
With a swift move, he lifted the laptop’s lid. The screen flickered back to life, revealing a folder half-tucked behind your research notes. A folder labeled something simple, but ominous: “Private.”
He should’ve stopped. Should’ve told himself it was none of his business. But a stubborn, electric thrill spurred him to open it. A series of video files stared back at him, each with a plain name—things like “Vid001,” “Vid002.” And the most recent one? Time-stamped that morning.
His heart thudded. He clicked on it.
What loaded made his blood run hot.
You. Naked. Bent back on your bed with a vibrator in your ass, face scrunched up in a mix of pain and pleasure as you eased it deeper. The audio kicked in, and Jake’s eyes went wide when he heard your moans:
“Jake…God, I want you so deep in me…wanna be stretched by your cock…”
His pulse roared in his ears. The image on the screen was so explicit it felt like a punch to the gut. You whimpered, back arched, your hand working your clit with desperate speed, all while the vibrator buzzed between your spread cheeks. And the filthy things you were saying—how you wanted him to shove it all the way in, how you wished it was his cock instead of cold silicone.
Jake’s cock twitched in his pants, heat pooling low in his gut. He watched, transfixed, as your face contorted in a mind-blowing orgasm, your body jerking, thighs trembling. You were screaming his name through it all.
A low, shaky exhalation left his lips. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Sure, he’d suspected you had some kind of thing for him, but this? This was on another level. You were a wrecked, filthy, ass-play-obsessed mess, and all of it was for him.
He paused the video at the peak of your orgasm, hand nearly trembling with adrenaline. Blood pounded in his ears, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Part of him wanted to keep watching, to see every second of your depravity, but he had to be quick. You’d be back any minute.
With an almost reverent care, he closed out of the folder and gently lowered the laptop’s lid. Then he dragged in a ragged breath, trying to get his heart rate under control.
His mind raced. You were a shy presence at times, stumbling over words, blushing whenever he looked at you too long. Yet behind closed doors, you were filming yourself stretching your ass with a vibrator, moaning his name like he was the only person in the world.
Jake could barely contain the predatory thrill that coursed through him. He tried to shove the arousal down, adjusting his position on the bed so he didn’t look painfully hard if you walked in that second. But there was no ignoring the fact that everything had changed.
You had no idea what you’d just handed him, and Jake was more than ready to see how you’d squirm now that he had proof of just how desperately you wanted him.
-
You barely made it through class without combusting.
Your skin felt too hot, every nerve in your body on edge, a lingering burn still coiled between your thighs from the morning’s routine. As if that wasn’t bad enough, every time Jake so much as shifted in his seat, your body reacted—trained by weeks, months, of late mornings spent getting yourself off to the very thought of him.
And then, class ended.
The moment you stepped into the hall, still shaken, still barely holding it together, Jake was waiting for you.
He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, looking infuriatingly calm while you felt like you were on the verge of collapsing. His dark eyes flicked over you, a slow drag, lingering just long enough to make your stomach tighten. He wasn’t just looking at you—he was studying you, examining you, as if piecing together a puzzle that had finally clicked into place.
A slow curl of heat unfurled in your belly. Something about the way he held your gaze, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips, made you feel exposed. Laid bare.
Something was wrong.
Your hands curled into fists at your sides, breath uneven as you tried to keep your face neutral. “What?” you asked, attempting to sound indifferent, but your voice betrayed you, cracking slightly on the single word.
Jake didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch, dragging his tongue over his lower lip in thought. His fingers twitched against his arms where they were crossed over his chest, and his gaze dipped lower—not just over your body, but like he was seeing straight through you.
Your stomach clenched. He knew something.
“Didn’t sleep well?” he finally asked, voice deceptively casual.
Your heart lurched. He was playing with you.
You forced yourself to scoff. “What are you talking about?”
Jake hummed, tilting his head slightly, and your stomach sank at the knowing glint in his eyes. You felt yourself locking up, body screaming at you to flee, but it was too late.
“I wonder…” he mused, tapping his fingers against his arm. “Is that why you’re always late?”
The world tilted beneath you.
Your throat closed, fingers twitching at your sides, because he didn’t say it like an accusation—he said it like a revelation.
Jake took a step closer, and you swore your knees almost buckled.
“You’re always late,” he murmured, voice smooth as sin, laced with amusement. He tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving yours as he leaned in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. “Always looking like you’ve just been fucked.”
Your breath hitched. Your pulse roared in your ears.
“What—” Your voice barely worked, caught between panic and something even deeper—something raw, electric, dangerous.
Jake’s lips curved, dark amusement flashing across his face. “You get off before class, don’t you?”
Your entire body went up in flames. Your thighs clenched so tightly that you swore he could see it, see the way his words wrecked you from the inside out.
Jake didn’t wait for you to answer. He already knew. He had proof.
The realization crashed into you like a truck. The video.
Your breath caught in your throat.
Your laptop. The folder. The fucking recording from that morning.
The vibrator. The way you moaned his name. The way you begged for it to be him.
Jake had seen it.
Oh my god.
He had fucking seen it.
A low chuckle vibrated from deep in his chest, his lips twitching upward at the sheer horror that must have been written all over your face. His eyes darkened, filling with something lethal, something triumphant.
And then came the final blow—the words that shattered you, sent that familiar ache between your legs into something unbearable.
“You could’ve just asked me to help, baby.”
Your stomach dropped. Your knees almost buckled.
You were done for.
The world tilted on its axis. Everything else around you—the bustling students, the muffled sounds of conversations, the faint scraping of chairs against tile—blurred into meaningless background noise. All that existed was him. His smirk. His words. The absolute certainty in his voice that left no room for denial.
Your mouth opened, some kind of weak protest forming on your tongue, but Jake moved closer, shutting you down before you even had a chance to breathe. His presence was overwhelming, his body heat radiating off him like a furnace, his scent—clean, musky, laced with something so distinctly him—filling your senses, making your knees weak.
“You get off before class,” he repeated, softer this time, almost teasing, like he was savoring the confession he had yet to hear from your own lips. His voice dropped lower, becoming something dark, possessive. “And you think about me when you do it, don’t you?”
Your lungs seized. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.
Jake tilted his head, studying you, watching the way your fingers twitched at your sides, the way your lips parted in a silent gasp, the way your thighs pressed together instinctively—as if that would do anything to stop the inevitable, the brutal ache between your legs that he had just made ten times worse.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” His voice was smooth, dripping with mocking confidence, because he knew you couldn’t.
Your brain scrambled for an escape. For an excuse. For anything that might get you out of this, because if you admitted it—if you said it out loud—there would be no turning back. You’d be his. Completely. Utterly.
Jake was too close now, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear, his tone taunting. “What is it, baby?” His fingers ghosted along your wrist, not quite touching but close enough to drive you insane. “Cat got your tongue? Or are you too busy thinking about the way you spread your legs for me every morning?”
Your breath left you in a shattered gasp.
You shouldn’t have reacted. You knew better. But your body betrayed you—your thighs clenched harder, your nipples tightened under the thin fabric of your shirt, your entire core clenched around nothing, desperate for the friction you had been denying yourself all class.
Jake saw it. He saw everything.
He chuckled, voice dark and satisfied. “Oh, you really are a filthy little thing, aren’t you?”
Your body burned.
Jake smirked. His fingers—strong, veined, perfect—finally reached you, just the barest brush of his knuckle against the inside of your wrist, but it sent a violent shudder through you.
And now, he fucking knew it.
“I’ll see you tonight,” he said smoothly, turning away like he hadn’t just left you a trembling, soaking mess in the middle of the hallway.
-
You spent the entire day in a state of absolute wreckage.
After Jake’s confrontation in the hallway, after his words had wrapped around you like a noose, you had barely functioned. Your thoughts were a mess, your body useless, stuck in a constant loop of shame, arousal, and anticipation. He had seen it. He had seen you—spread out, stuffed full, moaning his name like a desperate, filthy thing. And now, tonight, you had to face him again.
Your stomach flipped violently as you stood in front of your bathroom mirror, gripping the sink, forcing yourself to take slow, measured breaths.
You had to get it together. You had to act like you weren’t already falling apart before you even stepped into his dorm.
But the problem was—you were. You so were.
The moment you let your mind wander, it all came rushing back. Jake’s voice, low and taunting. His gaze, dark and knowing. The way his fingers had hovered so close to your skin, how he had whispered filth into your ear like he already owned you.
And now, tonight, he would.
Your breath shuddered. Your thighs clenched.
You couldn’t go to him like this, already weak and needy. You needed to take the edge off, just enough to think clearly, just enough to face him without completely unraveling the second he looked at you.
Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts before you could think twice.
You sighed, the relief instant as your fingers slid through the ridiculous mess between your legs. You were soaked, soaked, had been all day. It was humiliating, how little it took. The heat, the tension, the memory of him catching you—it had left you dripping, thighs sticky and aching since the moment he walked away from you in that hallway.
But tonight, you needed more than your fingers.
Your eyes flicked to the cool bathroom sink, and your breath hitched.
You turned around, hands bracing against the counter, angling yourself just right before slipping your fingers behind you, dragging them through your folds from the back, teasing your entrance in a way that made your legs tremble.
A gasp ripped from your throat as you pressed two fingers inside, stretching yourself open while your hips rocked forward, grinding your clit against the cold, smooth porcelain. The sensation was overwhelming—the deep, slow stretch inside you paired with the delicious friction against your swollen, aching clit.
“F-Fuck,” you whimpered, forehead pressing against the mirror as you humped the sink, fingering yourself deeper, imagining it was Jake standing behind you, one big hand on your hip, the other sliding down between your legs to keep you in place while he filled you up.
Your breath came ragged, hips stuttering, thighs quivering as you rode the edge, grinding your clit down harder, fucking your fingers deeper, thinking about how Jake would hold you still, how he’d groan against your ear, whispering, “You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”
Your stomach tightened, the orgasm coiling, building, about to—
And then your phone buzzed.
You froze.
Your heart stopped. Your stomach plummeted. Your fingers stilled immediately, guilt crashing over you in suffocating waves.
You scrambled for your phone, unlocking it with shaking hands.
Jake: Don’t. Touch. Yourself.
Your blood ran cold.
You swallowed, staring at the text, heart pounding as another one came through.
Jake: You’ll do that when you’re here.
Your breath left you in a shaky exhale, thighs clenching involuntarily at the absolute authority in his words. You couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, could only sit there, fingers still buried inside yourself, aching, trembling, waiting.
Then—
Jake: And when you get here? You’re going to show me just how much you need it.
Your entire body shuddered.
Your clit pulsed beneath your untouched folds, but you didn’t dare move. Not now. Not when you were seconds away from finishing, and Jake had just ripped that privilege away from you.
Another text buzzed onto the screen.
Jake: If you’re even a second late, I’ll make you wait even longer.
You swallowed a whimper. You had to go. Now.
Your legs felt like they barely worked as you stumbled up from the sink, heart hammering, stomach twisting into knots of frustration, anticipation, arousal so thick you could choke on it.
You had no idea how you were going to survive this night.
-
You hesitated outside Jake’s door, hands clammy, thighs pressed together so tightly it almost hurt.
Your body wasn’t over it.
Not even close.
The bathroom incident had left you on the brink, your body still buzzing, still needy, still aching for something you weren’t allowed to have until you stepped inside. You could still feel it—the cool sink against your clit, the way your own fingers had stretched you open from behind, the way Jake’s texts had snapped you back to reality at the worst possible moment.
And now you were here.
You wiped your palms on your thighs, forced yourself to breathe, forced yourself to knock even though every part of you screamed run.
The door opened almost immediately.
Jake stood there, leaning against the frame, one hand braced above his head, the other resting casually in the pocket of his sweatpants. His eyes raked over you, scanning your body like he already knew what kind of state you were in.
Like he could smell it on you.
You swallowed hard, barely holding back a whimper.
“Come in.”
His voice was smooth, deep, dripping with something dangerous. He stepped aside, leaving just enough space for you to squeeze past him. The second you moved, his hand brushed against your lower back—a simple touch, barely even there, but it felt like a brand.
Your breath hitched.
The door clicked shut behind you.
You were alone with him now.
The air felt thick, suffocating, charged. You could hear your own pulse pounding in your ears, the faint sound of your breath coming in quick, uneven puffs. Your nerves were a mess, anticipation tangling with embarrassment because—
You knew why you were here.
And so did Jake.
You took a shaky step forward, barely processing the way Jake moved behind you. Slow. Calculated.
“So,” he murmured, the heat of his breath suddenly right at your ear. “Are you gonna tell me how close you were?”
Your entire body seized up.
He wasn’t touching you—not yet—but his presence alone was suffocating, pressing against you like a heavy weight.
You licked your lips, swallowed hard. “W-what?”
Jake chuckled.
“Don’t play dumb, baby.” His fingers ghosted over your hip, just enough to make you tremble. “I told you not to touch yourself. And yet…”
You sucked in a breath as his other hand trailed up, dragging two fingers over your exposed throat, pressing just lightly enough that your head tipped back on instinct.
“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”
Your thighs clenched.
His touch was barely there but it was too much. Too much, because you were already soaked, already aching, already at the point where you’d do anything—
But he wasn’t giving it to you.
Not yet.
Instead, he pressed his fingers just a little more firmly against your throat, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to look at him. His dark eyes held yours, and the corner of his mouth curled.
“Be honest with me.”
You swallowed hard, heat pooling between your thighs.
Jake’s fingers brushed down your throat, slow, teasing, until they rested just beneath your collarbone. His thumb dragged lower, just barely dipping beneath the neckline of your shirt.
You could barely breathe.
You shouldn’t have been this turned on just from a few words. Just from the way his thumb traced your skin, from the way he was looking at you like he already owned you.
But then he leaned in, so fucking close, lips just barely brushing against your ear as he whispered—
“How close were you when I told you to stop?”
A whimper escaped you before you could stop it.
Jake groaned, low and satisfied. His fingers tightened, just enough to make your breath catch, just enough to make your body scream for more.
“I bet you were close.” His breath was hot, his tone mocking. “I bet you were right there, fingers dripping, about to make a mess of yourself.”
You bit your lip hard enough to sting, trying to stop the truth from slipping out.
Because if he knew the full truth—if he knew what you’d actually been doing—
Grinding against the bathroom sink, rubbing your clit against the cool porcelain like some desperate, shameless thing—
You’d die on the spot.
Jake must have sensed it. Felt it. Because his fingers curled against your chin, tilting your face up. His eyes searched yours, his smirk deepening, his voice dropping even lower.
“What else?”
Your pulse skipped. “W-what?”
His lips nearly brushed yours. “You were doing more than just touching yourself, weren’t you?”
You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Your silence was a dead giveaway.
Jake chuckled, dark and knowing. His grip on your chin tightened. “Tell me.”
Your stomach dropped.
“I—I…” The words got stuck in your throat.
His smirk widened. “You’re gonna say it out loud, baby. Or I’ll make you.”
Your breath shook, your entire body on the verge of collapse. You wanted to fight it, wanted to pretend you still had some dignity left, but Jake’s gaze was relentless.
And he wouldn’t let you go until you gave him what he wanted.
A deep, humiliating heat spread over your body as you finally whispered, “I—I was…grinding against the sink.”
Jake inhaled sharply, his entire body going still.
His grip on your chin tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might snap. He didn’t move, didn’t speak—just processed what you’d just admitted.
Then, slowly, so deliberately that it made your stomach flip, he let out a low, dark chuckle.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his free hand flexing at his side. “That’s what you were doing?”
You nodded weakly, shame pooling in your stomach.
Jake exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenching, and suddenly, his hand slid from your chin to your throat, holding you there—not squeezing, just keeping you still.
“You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you?”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
Jake smirked, something dangerous flashing in his gaze, something calculated.
“You’re gonna show me,” he murmured. “Later.”
Your breath hitched.
“And I’m gonna take a video.”
Your knees nearly gave out.
Jake sat back on his bed, legs spread wide, leaning against the headboard with an ease that only made the situation worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it. His hoodie was gone, discarded somewhere in the room, leaving nothing but smooth, bare skin, the sharp lines of his collarbones, the toned muscles of his chest, and the faintest trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his sweatpants.
But what really ruined you was the bulge straining against the soft fabric of his grey sweats.
It was… big. Heavy. Obscene. The kind of size that made your stomach clench with something dangerously close to desperation. He wasn’t even touching himself, wasn’t even adjusting—just sitting there, watching you like he had all the time in the world.
And then he did something that made your breath stutter.
He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed his phone, unlocking it with a single flick before tilting his head at you, smirk lazy, expectant.
“I’m filming this,” he murmured, voice dripping with authority. “Start stripping.”
Your stomach flipped.
Your body burned.
You should have hesitated—should have felt embarrassed, should have tried to argue—but the only thing you felt was a deep, thrilling pulse between your legs.
You didn’t even question it.
Your hands moved before your brain caught up, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt, peeling it up slowly, dragging it over your stomach, higher, teasing yourself as much as you were teasing him. The air felt thick, charged, electric as you bared more skin, the camera recording every second.
Jake hummed approvingly. “Good girl. Keep going.”
The shirt hit the floor. You reached for your shorts next, hooking your thumbs into the waistband, dragging them down inch by inch, knowing exactly how much of a show you were giving him.
By the time you stood before him, stripped down to nothing but your soaked panties, Jake’s smirk had sharpened into something dangerous.
“Lose those too,” he ordered, tilting the phone slightly to capture your every movement.
Your breath hitched, but you didn’t stop.
You slid your hands down, curling your fingers beneath the waistband, peeling them down agonizingly slow, letting the fabric drag over your thighs before stepping out of them completely.
Now you were bare.
Jake exhaled through his nose, pleased. His free hand dragged over his own thigh, fingers flexing, his grip tightening the moment you stepped forward, fully exposed, completely his.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded. “Let me see what you do when you think about me.”
You obeyed instantly, trailing your fingers over your stomach, your thighs, your hips—everywhere but where you needed it most. Your breath came in slow, teasing gasps as you let your fingers finally slip lower, grazing your clit, a sharp whimper escaping as you made contact with the aching heat between your legs.
Jake groaned, the sound low, filthy.
“Louder.”
You whimpered, fingers pressing deeper, moving slower, dragging the pleasure out just to tease him, just to see how long he’d let you keep control.
“Louder,” he said again, voice darker this time. “I want to hear every filthy little sound you make.”
Something inside you snapped.
You moaned. Loudly.
Then again. And again.
It was like you couldn’t stop. The moment the first shameless, desperate noise slipped past your lips, your mouth wouldn’t close, your voice wouldn’t stop spilling every thought you had.
“Jake—fuck—I think about you all the time—”
Your fingers slid deeper, your hips rocking into the pressure.
“I think about your hands, how big they are, how rough they’d feel on me—”
Jake let out a low, ragged groan, his fingers twitching against the bed.
“I think about your mouth, how you’d ruin me with it, how you’d hold me still and make me take it—”
Your breath hitched as you spread your legs wider, rubbing yourself faster, your mind a mess of filth.
“I think about your cock,” you gasped, your fingers slick, sliding in and out shamelessly. “How big it is, how you’d stretch me open, how you’d fill me so fucking deep—”
Jake exhaled sharply, his jaw locked, his knuckles turning white against his thigh.
Then, in an instant, he moved.
You barely had time to react before his hand wrapped around your throat, gripping firm, dominant, unrelenting as he dragged you forward. Your breath caught, a choked gasp escaping as he pulled you right into his lap, forcing you to straddle him, the heat of his body pressing against you.
His grip tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you feel it.
“Stop pretending,” he growled, his breath hot against your lips, his other hand pushing between your thighs, feeling how soaked you were. “You want to act like a shy little thing? Like you’re so innocent?”
His fingers dragged through your slick, making you tremble, making you whimper as your hands gripped his shoulders for support.
“Enough of that.” His thumb pressed against your throat, tilting your head back, his gaze dark, dangerous. “Start acting like the filthy little slut you actually are.”
Something in you broke open.
You whimpered, thighs clenching, your fingers digging into his skin as your hips rolled forward, grinding against his sweatpants, against the huge, heavy bulge pressing against you.
Jake groaned, his grip on your throat flexing, his lips twitching into something darkly amused as you completely fell apart for him.
“There she is,” he murmured. “That’s what I wanted.”
Your mouth ran wild, the words spilling before you could stop them—
“I want you to ruin me, Jake—”
You rocked against him, panting, desperate, his hand tight in your hair now, keeping you in place, making you take it.
“Want you to spread me open—make me take every inch of you—”
Jake groaned, low and wrecked, his hands gripping your hips, holding you against him as you rubbed yourself raw against his cock, soaking his sweatpants with how desperate you were.
You did exactly that.
You pulled your fingers out, spreading your slick between them, before shifting positions—
Turning around.
Bending over.
Spreading yourself open for him.
A sharp, gritted curse came from behind you.
Jake’s fingers flexed against his thigh, his entire body going rigid as he took in the sight before him—your ass up, your fingers teasing at your entrance, the shameless, dripping mess you were making of yourself.
He let out a slow, heavy breath, one that sounded so ragged, so fucking strained, that you almost moaned just from hearing it.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered, voice low, wrecked.
And that was the moment you knew.
Jake was going to destroy you.
Jake let the silence stretch, let the weight of his gaze sink into you, let you feel just how much he was holding back—barely.
You were still bent over in front of him, still spreading yourself wide, still waiting, dripping, panting, desperate, while he sat back and took his time.
His voice, low, rough, taunting:
“You think this is how I’d fuck you?”
Your stomach plummeted.
Jake exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his jaw before shaking his head, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment.
“That’s cute, baby,” he murmured, shifting forward until you could feel his heat against you, his presence looming over your back, his breath hitting your spine.
But then—
He grabbed your hips, both hands firm, controlling, and yanked you back against him. Your breath hitched, a choked gasp slipping from your lips at the sudden contact—your bare, slick heat pressing against the thick, hard outline of his cock.
Jake groaned, low, deep, wrecked, his fingers tightening, his chest heaving as he held you there, perfectly still, completely at his mercy.
“First mistake,” he muttered, voice rough against your ear. “You wouldn’t be in charge of how fast or slow I fuck you. That’s my job.”
A shudder ran through you, your hands clenching against the sheets as Jake’s grip ground you against him, making you feel every inch of his cock through his sweatpants.
“Second mistake?” he continued, dragging his fingers over the curve of your ass, featherlight, teasing. “You think I’d let you touch yourself first?”
Your breath caught as his hand moved lower, closer, his touch just barely skimming over your soaked entrance, not enough, not even close, just a tease.
His fingers—elegant, veined, strong—dragged through your slick, gathering it, smearing it over you, spreading you open, making you tremble.
“I’d have you like this first,” Jake murmured, voice silk and gravel, his breath hitting the nape of your neck as his fingers teased, circled, prodded, but never gave you what you needed. “Dripping. Begging.”
His fingers brushed over your tight, untouched entrance, slicking it up with your own mess, and you whimpered, hips jolting forward on instinct, trying to escape the sensation—
But Jake just chuckled.
“Oh?” His tone was mocking, amused. “That got your attention?”
Your whole body seized, heat flaming through your spine, burning at your core, because—
He was still teasing your ass.
Just barely, just the pad of his fingertip, smearing your slick in slow, lazy circles, pressing, nudging, teasing, but not pushing inside.
And he wasn’t letting you run from it.
His free hand pressed into your lower back, keeping you right where he wanted you, keeping you spread, exposed, open.
“You think about this too?” he murmured, voice dark, edged with pure sin. “You think about my fingers stretching you out?”
Your throat closed, your body burning, your breath hitching in a desperate, humiliated whimper, because—
Yes.
Yes, you did.
Jake chuckled, pleased, tilting his head as if piecing it all together.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, his fingertip pressing just a little more insistently, not pushing in yet, just teasing, just threatening to. “You should’ve seen yourself.”
Your pulse pounded.
“I bet you don’t even know how messy you looked,” he continued, mocking, condescending. “Whimpering, drooling all over your pillow, fucking yourself open for me.”
Your entire body jerked, because you knew exactly what video he was talking about.
Jake just laughed under his breath, slow, deliberate, dragging it out.
“I don’t even think you knew what you were saying, baby,” he murmured, voice almost affectionate, like he was reminiscing. “Kept whining about how you wished it was my cock stretching you open, stuffing you full.”
A wrecked, desperate moan tore from your throat before you could stop it.
Jake groaned, low, pleased.
“There it is,” he murmured. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
His finger pressed harder, circling, coaxing, never giving you enough—just teasing, just pushing your body past what it thought it could take.
His other hand moved.
His fingers found your clit, pinching, rolling, flicking over the swollen bud with zero mercy.
You gasped, your legs nearly giving out, your moan high, broken, utterly wrecked.
Jake groaned at the sound, his own restraint hanging by a thread, but he wasn’t done yet.
“Stick your tongue out,” he ordered, voice deep, commanding.
You barely had time to process the words before your mouth obeyed, tongue slipping out, slick and needy, desperate for whatever he’d give you.
Jake exhaled through his nose, satisfied.
He shoved his fingers inside your mouth.
You whined, head tilting back as he pressed deeper, letting you taste the salt of his skin, letting you soak them, letting you understand exactly what he was about to do.
“Suck,” he murmured, and you did, your lips wrapping around his fingers, your tongue laving over them, your moans vibrating through your chest.
Jake cursed under his breath, his cock twitching hard beneath his sweatpants, his control hanging on by a fucking thread.
He pulled his fingers out, slick, wet, dripping with your spit.
And then he shoved that same finger inside you.
Your whole body jerked, your breath stuttering, your mind blanking completely as the wet stretch burned, as your body took him, clenched around him, pulled him deeper.
Jake groaned, his free hand slamming onto your lower back, keeping you still, forcing you to take it.
“God,” he muttered, voice strained. “Look at you.”
His finger slid deeper, fucking into you, spreading you open, filling you slowly, deliberately, ruining you.
“You were made for this, weren’t you?” he murmured. “Made to be filled.”
Your moans shattered, your legs trembling, your hands gripping the sheets, your whole body unraveling under him.
Jake just smirked, watching you come apart.
“That’s okay, baby,” he murmured, his lips curling against your ear. “I’m gonna make sure you take it better than that next time.”
Your stomach dropped.
Next time.
Jake just smirked.
“Oh,” he murmured, voice lethal. “And don’t forget—I’m filming the next one.”
Jake had had enough.
Enough of teasing, enough of waiting, enough of holding back while you squirmed, while you whimpered, while you dripped all over yourself without him even needing to try.
Now he was going to ruin you.
His fingers slid out of you slowly, deliberately, letting you feel every inch of the slick drag, letting your body clench around nothing, aching, desperate for more.
You whined, shifting, pushing back instinctively, chasing friction, but Jake’s hands were already on you, pushing you down, flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion.
Before you could even catch your breath, he was on you.
His grip locked onto your thighs, spreading you wide, forcing your legs apart so you had no choice but to bare yourself to him completely.
Your pulse roared in your ears.
Jake exhaled slowly, his eyes dark, hungry, his gaze locked onto the messy, dripping heat between your legs.
“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself, his fingers flexing against your thighs, holding you open like you belonged to him.
Your stomach flipped. Your breath hitched. Your body throbbed.
“Be a good girl and show me how bad you want it.”
Your brain blanked.
You knew what he meant. Knew he was testing you. Knew he wanted to see if you were still pretending, still holding back, still playing shy when you were already dripping for him.
He would stop.
He would kick you out.
His voice was low, slow, unforgiving when he spoke again. “If you don’t act like the whore I know you are, I’m gonna stop. And I’m gonna make you leave.”
Your breath shattered.
The weight of his words hit you like a slap to the face.
No more hesitation. No more nerves. No more pretending.
Your whole body flushed hot, heat spreading from your cheeks down to your core as you swallowed your pride, swallowed your shame, and did exactly what he asked.
You let your thighs fall even wider, your hands sliding down your stomach, past your hips, until your fingers spread yourself open for him, letting him see everything.
Jake’s breath left him in a ragged curse.
“That’s it,” he muttered, almost to himself. “There she is.”
His mouth latched onto you immediately, tongue dragging through your folds, hot and wet and messy, licking up every bit of slick that had spilled from you since he started his torment.
You screamed.
Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands, pulling, gripping, holding on for dear life as Jake ate you alive.
He groaned against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core, making your hips buck, making you writhe beneath him.
But Jake was ready for it.
His arms hooked under your thighs, locking them over his shoulders, his hands gripping your hips tight, pinning you down as he worked you over with his tongue, messy and relentless, like he was trying to drown in you.
“Oh my fucking—Jake—”
You gasped, sobbed, choked on your own moans, because he wasn’t just licking you,
He was devouring you.
Sucking, flicking, rolling his tongue over your clit, dipping lower to fuck you with it, groaning into you every time your walls fluttered around the slick muscle.
Your body twitched, overwhelmed, shaking under the pressure of his grip, the raw, unrelenting pace of his tongue.
He was merciless.
No teasing. No holding back.
Just Jake, consuming you, controlling you, wrecking you.
Your thighs tensed, your stomach tightened, your breath coming in short, sharp, desperate gasps, and Jake fucking felt it.
He knew you were close.
So he got mean.
He pulled away just enough to whisper against your swollen, drenched folds—
“Make a mess of my face, baby.”
Your stomach dropped.
He sucked your clit into his mouth and flicked his tongue over it hard.
Everything snapped.
Your whole body bowed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream, your vision blurring, blanking, as pleasure slammed into you, violent and unforgiving.
You came hard, your body convulsing, your legs trying to snap shut around his head, but Jake just held you there, kept you wide open, kept his tongue right where you needed it, licking you through it, dragging it out until you were a shaking, sobbing mess beneath him.
When it finally became too much, when your whimpers turned into soft, wrecked sobs, Jake eased up, pressing slow, teasing kisses against your oversensitive clit before finally pulling away.
Your chest heaved, your skin flushed, your whole body buzzing, as you blinked up at the ceiling, completely wrecked, ruined, destroyed.
Jake sat back, grinning, his lips and chin shiny, slick, messy with you.
His voice was smug, satisfied, when he finally spoke.
“That’s my girl.”
You were still panting, still trembling, your body wrecked from the brutal pace of his tongue. But Jake wasn’t done with you yet.
Not even close.
Before you could recover, before you could even think, his hands were on you again, flipping you onto your stomach with zero effort, pressing his weight down against you, his body hot, heavy, overwhelming.
You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt it,
The thick, hot length of his cock pressing between your thighs, dragging through your slick, coating himself in the mess he’d made of you.
Your whole body shuddered.
“Gonna fuck you now,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, voice dark, dangerous. “You ready for me, baby?”
You barely managed to nod, your hips tilting up, your back arching, offering yourself up to him in the filthiest display of submission.
Jake groaned, his breath shuddering against your shoulder.
“Yeah, you are,” he muttered, almost to himself. “You’ve been ready for me since day one.”
Your breath hitched when he pulled back, when you felt him shift, when you felt him line himself up,
You felt it.
The thick, heavy weight of his cock sliding between your folds, dragging over your clit, teasing your entrance, spreading you open inch by inch, but not pushing in yet.
You whimpered, a wrecked, frustrated sound, trying to push back, trying to take him, but Jake’s hands were on your hips immediately, holding you still.
“Not yet,” he murmured, voice taunting, smug. “You feel that?”
Your whole body tightened as he dragged himself over your entrance again, so close but still not giving it to you.
“Feel how big I am?”
You nodded furiously, eyes blown wide, unfocused, needy, trying to breathe through the overwhelming feeling of his cock stretching you open already before he was even inside.
Jake chuckled, one hand leaving your hip, gripping the thick base of himself, dragging the fat, swollen head against your entrance over and over, smearing your slick across his length.
“Bet you thought about it, huh?” he murmured, his free hand sliding up your back, pressing between your shoulder blades, forcing you further into the mattress. “Bet you imagined how deep I’d be.”
A wrecked, whiny little moan tumbled from your lips.
Yeah. You had.
And now you could feel it.
Jake was thick. Heavy. Long enough that you knew he was going to ruin you completely.
The head of his cock was flushed a deep, angry red, already slick with precum and the mess you’d made of yourself. A thick vein ran down the underside, pulsing against your entrance as he dragged himself over your folds again and again, teasing, taunting, letting you feel every single inch of what was about to wreck you.
Your thighs shook, your hands fisting the sheets, your whole body fighting to stay still.
Jake smirked.
“Want it that bad?”
You nodded frantically, whimpering, pressing back against him, desperate to be filled.
Jake groaned, low, dark, lethal.
He spat directly onto your asshole.
Your whole body jerked violently, your breath choking out of you, a sharp, desperate gasp breaking from your throat at the filthy, messy sound of it.
Jake chuckled darkly, rubbing the wetness into you with his thumb, spreading it over your tight entrance, teasing, circling, smearing it with your own slick.
“Thought about this too, huh?” he murmured, pressing just the tip of his thumb against it, making your thighs tremble, making your stomach flip, making you whine.
But he didn’t push in.
No—he dragged his spit-slicked thumb down, tracing it between your folds, pressing it against your clit in a slow, taunting rub just as he finally—
Pushed inside.
Your mouth fell open in a wrecked, silent scream, your entire body going taut, because Jake didn’t ease in.
He split you open.
A long, low groan rumbled in his chest, his fingers tightening on your hips, his breath shaking as he forced you to take every inch.
“Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his voice strained, wrecked, strained as he buried himself to the hilt. “So fucking tight.”
Your fingernails dug into the sheets, your legs shaking, your breath completely gone, because the stretch was unbearable, overwhelming, perfect.
Jake didn’t move right away.
He let you feel it.
Feel how deep he was, how full he made you, how there was no more space inside you for anything else but him.
He pulled back,
And slammed back in.
Your whole body jolted forward, a sharp, shocked moan spilling from your lips as Jake set a brutal, punishing pace immediately.
“You’re gonna take it like a good little slut, yeah?” he growled, his voice low, rough, filthy. “Gonna take it just like you do in those videos?”
You sobbed, whimpered, nodded frantically, barely able to form words, barely able to breathe.
Jake groaned, watching you fall apart, watching you drool all over his cock, watching your mouth fall open in perfect, wordless pleasure.
He leaned down, teeth grazing your ear, his pace never faltering, pounding into you so deep you saw stars.
“Push back on it,” he ordered.
You barely even registered the command—just obeyed immediately, rocking back against him, meeting every thrust, taking him like you were made for it.
Jake growled, his grip tightening, watching the way his cock slid in and out of you, watching the way you took every inch, watching the way you spread yourself open for him completely.
“Good girl,” he gritted out, sweat dripping from his temples, his breath ragged. “That’s it, baby. Show me what a good little whore you are.”
His fingers slid back down, toying with your clit, rubbing it in tight, filthy circles, his thrusts getting harder, deeper, meaner.
Your vision blurred.
Your body shook violently.
“Jake—fuck—I can’t—”
He chuckled darkly, leaning over you again, his lips brushing your ear as he ruined you completely.
“Yes, you can.”
“Be a good girl and come all over my cock.”
Your whole world shattered.
The air in the room was thick, heavy with the scent of sex and sweat and everything filthy you’d just done.
Your body was still shaking, your limbs still boneless, every nerve still buzzing from the way Jake had just completely, utterly wrecked you.
His hands were on you again.
Gentle.
You barely registered the shift at first—too dazed, too exhausted, too blissed out to notice the way Jake’s grip had softened, the way his rough, dominant touch had turned into something careful, careful, careful.
You blinked, still coming down, still floating, as Jake slowly eased himself out of you, hushing you immediately when you whimpered at the loss.
“I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice softer now, a stark contrast to the filthy, merciless way he’d been talking to you minutes ago.
Your brows furrowed in confusion.
Because Jake sounded different.
You barely had time to process it before he moved, scooping you up effortlessly, pulling you into his lap like you were the most precious fucking thing in the world.
Your stomach flipped.
“Jake—”
“Shh.”
His lips brushed your forehead.
Your heart skipped. Your breath caught.
Because Jake had kissed you.
For the first time. But not on your lips.
Not yet.
His hands rubbed slow, soothing circles over your back, his voice a quiet murmur against your skin. “Are you okay?”
You blinked at him, completely thrown. Because what the fuck?
Where was the cocky, filthy-mouthed Jake who had just spent the past hour ruining your entire existence?
Where was the smug, insufferable bastard who had made you beg for it, who had spat on your ass, who had laughed while you drooled all over his cock?
Because the guy holding you now? Was someone else entirely. His hands were warm, steady, grounding. His gaze was soft, searching, real.
Your lips parted, still stunned, but before you could say anything, Jake let out a quiet, almost nervous chuckle.
“Fuck,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face before looking back at you. “I should’ve kissed you first.”
Your breath hitched.
Jake exhaled, shaking his head. “Before all of that.” His fingers traced light, delicate patterns up and down your spine. “Didn’t want the first time I kissed you to be during sex.”
Something in your chest ached. You didn’t know what to say.
Because this wasn’t what you expected.
Jake had spent weeks taunting you, teasing you, pushing you past your limits— Now he was holding you like he never wanted to let go. You swallowed, watching him carefully, studying him, trying to understand.
“Why?” you whispered.
Jake’s lips curled into a small, almost sheepish smirk.
His fingers found your chin, tilting your face up to his.
“Because I wanted it to mean something.”
Your entire body stilled. Your pulse roared in your ears.
Jake held your gaze, serious now, voice soft but firm.
“I don’t share,” he murmured.
Your stomach plummeted.
Your lips parted, but no sound came out. Jake tilted his head, his fingers sliding up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, so gentle, so intimate, so fucking real.
“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing,” he continued, his voice low, steady, certain. “I don’t want you fucking anyone else.”
Your breath shuddered. Jake’s eyes flickered down to your lips, slowly He finally kissed you.
Slow. Deep. Consuming.
And just like that, you knew you were done for.
-
Jake’s words from that first night still haunted you.
“You’re gonna show me later.”
You were.
The bathroom lights were dim, the mirror already fogging up from the heat of the room, but none of that mattered. Not when Jake was standing behind you, one hand gripping your hip, the other holding his phone, recording every filthy, desperate second.
Your palms were pressed against the edge of the sink, your body bent forward, the cold porcelain digging into your clit as you grinded against it, mimicking exactly what he had caught you doing before.
Only this time, Jake was fucking you through it.
His cock dragged in and out of you, slow at first, deep and deliberate, splitting you open, making you feel every thick, devastating inch as you rocked your hips forward, rubbing yourself against the sink just like you had before he ever touched you.
Now, Jake was watching.
Now, Jake was inside you.
His breath was hot against your neck, his free hand trailing up your spine, fingers pressing between your shoulder blades, pushing you further down against the sink, making you spread your legs wider, making you take more of him, making you completely his.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice wrecked, low, approving, his free hand digging into your hip, holding you exactly where he wanted you. “Just like that. Just like you did for me before I ever fucking touched you.”
Your moans were high, gasping, desperate, bouncing off the tile walls, growing louder and louder as Jake’s thrusts grew faster, sharper, filthier.
“Look at yourself,” he growled, angling the phone so you could see the reflection—see the way your face was contorted with pleasure, see the way your tits bounced with every thrust, see the way his cock disappeared inside you, stretching you wide, filling you completely.
You locked eyes with him through the mirror, and something snapped.
A slow, wicked smirk curled on your lips, and suddenly, the whimpering mess you had been was gone.
You arched your back further, pushing your ass back against him, grinding onto his cock, fucking yourself onto him even harder, your mouth spilling filth without hesitation.
“You see that, baby?” Your voice was thick with sin, sultry and commanding. “See how good your cock looks inside me? Stretching me open like I was fucking made for it?”
Jake groaned, dark and wrecked, his grip tightening on your hips.
“Oh, you like that?” you cooed, deliberately clenching around him, making him hiss through his teeth. “Like watching me fuck myself on you?”
He gritted his teeth. “Jesus Christ.”
“Thought about this for so long,” you purred, rolling your hips. “Thought about you taking me like this—filming me—showing me what a good little slut I am for you.”
Jake cursed under his breath, his thrusts growing harder, faster, deeper, his control shattering as he pounded into you, forcing you against the sink, making you feel every fucking inch.
“You wanna keep talking, baby?” he gritted out, his hand snaking up to grip your throat, making you hold his gaze in the mirror. “Or do you wanna fucking come?”
Your moan broke, your whole body trembling, your legs shaking violently.
“I—I want both,” you gasped, a shameless, breathless mess. “Wanna come all over your cock while you fucking record it. Wanna make the dirtiest fucking video for you—so you can watch me fall apart over and over—”
Jake groaned, his restraint snapping completely.
His hand slid between your thighs, rubbing you mercilessly, his cock slamming into you faster, harder, filthier, and before you could even process it—
You were screaming, your orgasm ripping through you violently, your whole body convulsing, shaking, breaking apart.
Jake got every second on video.
-
Jake liked to smoke weed after long days.
He liked to do it while wrecking you.
The air was thick with smoke, the room hot, hazy, suffocating in the most intoxicating way. You were sprawled out on his bed, your thighs spread wide, your wrists pinned beside your head as Jake’s tongue dragged lazy, filthy circles over your clit, lapping at you with zero urgency, completely unbothered by how fucking desperate you were getting.
In his free hand? A joint.
Burning slow. The smoke curling through the air, weaving between your tangled bodies, seeping into your skin, into your mind, into your bones.
Every nerve in your body was on fire. Every slow, teasing flick of his tongue felt magnified, every inhale he took deepening the fog that was swallowing you whole.
You moaned, squirming, your fingers digging into the sheets as your hips lifted, chasing his mouth, trying to get more, but Jake just chuckled darkly, pinning you down, refusing to let you take control.
He lifted his head slightly, blowing a long, slow stream of thick, warm smoke over your drenched, swollen clit.
Your body jerked violently, a sharp cry breaking from your throat, the sensation too much, too overwhelming, too fucking filthy.
“Fuck—Jake—”
He groaned, lazy, satisfied, licking his lips before dragging his tongue through your folds again, so slow, so teasing, so fucking unbearable.
“Sensitive, baby?” His voice was thick, taunting, dripping with amusement. He took another deep inhale from the joint, holding the smoke in his lungs, letting his fingers slide through your wetness, teasing, circling, rubbing—but never giving you enough.
He exhaled another thick, slow drag of smoke, letting it roll over your heat, watching as the wisps curled around your trembling thighs, your stomach, your completely wrecked, ruined body.
A wrecked, filthy moan spilled from your lips.
Jake smirked against your inner thigh, watching you twitch, tremble, shake, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly, watching the way your fingers clawed at the sheets, desperate for more.
“You like that, baby?” he murmured, his fingers sliding deeper, pressing inside you so fucking slow, dragging against your walls, curling just right.
You whimpered, back arching off the mattress. “Yes—fuck, yes—”
Jake hummed approvingly, the sound low and sinful, his lips dragging over your inner thigh, nipping at the soft flesh, teasing, taunting.
He did something unholy.
He brought the joint down,
And pressed the burning tip directly to your clit.
It didn’t hurt—it was barely a graze, the heat of the ember just close enough to send a violent shockwave of pleasure-pain through your entire fucking body.
You screamed, your legs snapping closed around his head, but Jake just growled, gripping your thighs and spreading them wide again, forcing you open for him.
“Ah, ah,” he tutted, bringing the joint back to his lips for another slow, deep pull. “Keep those legs open, baby.”
Your chest heaved, your mind spinning, every part of you hypersensitive, overstimulated, teetering on the fucking edge.
Jake watched you, eyes blown, hungry, dark, as he reached between your thighs again, his fingers finding your swollen, overstimulated clit, rubbing messy, lazy circles, smearing your slick, keeping you right there, right on the brink.
He exhaled another cloud of smoke, letting it roll directly over your heat.
Your moan broke, a sharp, wrecked sob, your body tensing, shaking, fighting the unbearable pressure building inside you.
“Oh, baby,” Jake mocked, his voice thick with sin, his fingers never stopping, never slowing. “You’re gonna fucking come just from this, aren’t you?”
You nodded frantically, whimpering, writhing, your whole body fighting to hold itself together.
Jake’s lips twitched, his cock straining against his sweats, his own control slipping as he dragged the joint over your soaked folds, rubbing the tip against your clit, watching you jerk, watching your legs tremble, watching you fall apart for him.
You said it.
Your voice was high, wrecked, desperate.
“Please, Daddy.”
Jake froze.
He let out a deep, low groan, something dark flashing in his eyes. His grip on your thighs tightened, his body tensed, his restraint snapping completely.
His voice was rough, strained, wrecked beyond recognition.
“Say that shit again.”
You whimpered, grinding against nothing, teetering right on the edge of something violent.
“Please, Daddy,” you repeated, voice syrupy sweet, dripping with sin. “My pussy wants a hit too it needs it. Need you to make me come so fucking hard I forget my own name—”
Jake growled, his entire body shuddering, his control obliterated.
He took another slow inhale,
He pressed the joint back to your clit, the heat searing, shocking, sending a violent shudder through your entire body.
Your legs spasmed, your stomach tensed, and suddenly you were gushing, soaking his face, his chest, the sheets beneath you, every single muscle in your body seizing as you squirted all over him.
Jake groaned loudly, his hand gripping your thigh bruisingly tight, his tongue lapping up the mess you made, drinking you down, humming against your dripping folds like he’d just found his new favorite way to get high.
Jake took the joint, still damp from where he’d pressed it against your soaked heat, brought it back to his lips, and took one final, slow hit.
His exhale was slow, deep, pure sin as he looked down at you, wrecked, spent, twitching beneath him.
He leaned in, grabbed your jaw, and kissed you.
Filthy. Deep. Destroying.
Smoke still lingered on his tongue, on his breath, invading your lungs, intoxicating you more than any drug ever could.
His teeth tugged at your lower lip, his hand gripping the back of your neck, holding you exactly where he wanted you.
And as he pulled away, leaving you breathless, ruined, completely fucking gone, he grinned against your lips, voice nothing but a low, wrecked murmur.
“Bet you taste even better than the high, baby.”
-
The bathroom was already steaming, condensation rolling down the glass shower door, the air thick with humidity—and the sounds of Jake fucking you senseless.
Your body was pressed against the glass, the cool surface a stark contrast to your feverish, flushed skin, your nipples dragging against it with every brutal thrust, leaving streaks of your desperation across the fogged-up surface.
Jake’s hands were everywhere—one gripping your hip tight enough to bruise, the other wrapped around your throat, holding you in place, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.
Fucking lethal.
“You wanted this, huh?” he growled, his breath hot against your ear, his cock slamming into you from behind, deep, ruthless, unforgiving. “Wanted Daddy to take you like this?”
You whimpered, your forehead pressing into the glass, your nails scraping uselessly against it, because you had no control over anything anymore.
Jake wasn’t just fucking you. He was owning you.
His hand on your throat tightened, forcing you to lift your head, making you stare at your own fucked-out reflection in the glass.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his tone condescending, filthy, dripping with amusement. “You see yourself, baby?”
Your mouth hung open, your lips puffy, swollen, wrecked, your body shaking with every deep thrust, your nipples dragging against the slick surface of the glass, leaving desperate little streaks with every movement.
Jake chuckled darkly. “So fucking dumb for me, huh?”
You tried to speak—tried to say something, anything—but all that came out was a wrecked, helpless little sob.
Jake groaned, his free hand sliding down, gripping your jaw, forcing your head back, forcing you to keep looking.
“You wanted to fuck me in the shower?” he mocked, his hips snapping forward, burying himself so deep you saw fucking stars. “Now you can barely even stand.”
Your whole body convulsed, your walls clenching tightly around him, and Jake felt it.
Felt how fucking wrecked you were.
Felt how close you were.
And he wasn’t having it.
Not yet.
His thrusts suddenly slowed, the brutal, relentless pace shifting into deep, slow, torturous rolls of his hips, dragging his cock out of you so slowly, before slamming back inside.
You sobbed, the glass fogging up from your panting, helpless gasps.
“Oh, you don’t like that, baby?” he taunted, his grip on your jaw tightening, his thumb pushing into your mouth, forcing it open. “Thought you wanted Daddy to fuck you. What happened, huh?”
You whimpered around his thumb, your tongue lapping at the rough pad, sucking instinctively, needing something to hold onto before you fucking lost your mind.
Jake groaned, his pace picking up again, faster, harsher, filthier, his cock hitting deep, devastating spots inside you that made your legs buckle beneath you.
Your moans grew louder, more desperate, high, gasping little cries that bounced off the tile walls, mixing with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, the shower running, the heavy panting of both of you completely fucking falling apart.
Jake leaned in, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, his hand on your jaw sliding down, wrapping fully around your throat.
“You’re gonna take everything I give you,” he murmured, low, dark, dangerous.
You nodded frantically, whimpering, your hands bracing against the glass, leaving messy little fingerprints in the condensation.
Jake groaned, watching you lose yourself, watching the way your body responded to him, the way you trembled, the way you fucking fell apart for him.
“Go ahead, baby,” he murmured, his thrusts turning erratic, ruthless, brutal, perfect. “Come for me.”
Your whole body snapped.
A shattered, broken moan spilled from your lips as your orgasm slammed into you, your walls clenching, pulsing, milking him, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you.
Jake cursed, his grip tightening, his own breath shattering against your ear as he thrust into you a few more times, then he buried himself deep, groaning through gritted teeth, coming inside you, his body tensing, shaking, completely fucking wrecked.
The only sound left in the room was your panting breaths, the steady patter of the shower, the faint creak of the glass as your bodies pressed against it, spent, ruined, completely fucking gone.
Jake’s hands slid to your hips, his grip softening, pulling you back against his chest, wrapping his arms around you as his forehead pressed against the back of your neck.
A quiet, breathless chuckle escaped him. “Damn, baby.”
You laughed, weak, fucked-out, completely ruined.
“Next time,” he murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder. “You’re riding me.”
-
Jake had never been gentle.
Not really. Not when it came to you.
Because you pulled something reckless, desperate, uncontrollable out of him.
Tonight was different.
The candles flickered softly, the scent of warm vanilla filling the air, mixing with the faint traces of Jake’s cologne on his sheets. The playlist he made for you played quietly in the background, soft, slow, achingly sweet.
Jake was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
His hands were slow, careful, reverent as he traced your body, fingertips ghosting over your bare skin, leaving shivers in their wake.
He hovered over you, his gaze heavy, intense, the way he always looked at you when he was about to ruin you.
Tonight, he was going to love you.
“Happy one month, baby,” he murmured, brushing his lips over yours, soft, teasing, unbearably tender.
Your stomach flipped, your chest aching, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him down, needing more.
Jake chuckled against your mouth, letting you kiss him, letting you taste the slow, burning affection behind every drag of his lips.
“You always so needy for me, huh?” he teased, grinning against your mouth, teasing but soft, always so soft.
You pouted, fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, slower.
Jake groaned, his body pressing into yours, his warmth wrapping around you, completely engulfing you.
And when he finally—finally—pushed inside you, it was the slowest thing you’d ever felt.
A sharp gasp slipped from your lips, your head falling back as Jake’s body sank into yours, inch by inch, stretching you, filling you completely.
“Fuck,” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath uneven, wrecked, completely lost in you.
You clenched around him, your thighs tightening around his hips, pulling him deeper, needing more,
But Jake just smirked, shaking his head, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your jaw.
“Not rushing tonight, baby,” he murmured, voice low, gentle, soothing, but firm. “Gonna take my time with you.”
Your chest ached, your breath shaking, your fingers sliding down his back, gripping onto him, holding him close.
Jake moved slowly, agonizingly so, rolling his hips into yours in long, deep strokes, his body pressed flush against you, his lips tracing every inch of your skin.
It was everything.
The way he whispered against your lips, soft, teasing, murmuring about how perfect you felt, how much he loved being inside you.
The way he kissed you between every word, slow, messy, deep, like he needed you to feel every bit of how much he wanted you, adored you, fucking loved you.
The way his hands caressed your body, memorizing every inch of you, fingertips dragging over your waist, your ribs, your thighs, like he needed to burn you into his skin.
It was soft.
It was overwhelming.
It was Jake, giving you every single piece of himself.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, voice thick, wrecked, raw, his lips pressing against your temple, your cheek, your jaw, before finding your lips again.
And when he finally—finally—pushed you over the edge, it was like drowning.
Your orgasm hit slow, deep, all-consuming, your whole body melting into his, your fingers gripping his shoulders like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to this earth.
Jake followed right after, burying himself deep, shuddering, groaning into your mouth, completely fucking lost in you.
When you were spent, ruined, completely wrapped up in him, he didn’t move.
Didn’t pull away. Didn’t let you go.
Instead, he cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, soft, tender, adoring.
He kissed you.
Slow. Lingering. Perfect.
“I Love you,” he murmured, lips still pressed against yours, his voice barely above a whisper.
Your heart skipped.
Your breath hitched.
When you whispered it back, Jake smiled against your mouth.
-
Jake had been staring at you for a full ten minutes.
Not subtly. Not in passing. Full-on, pouty-lipped, arms-crossed, lovesick puppy-dog-eyes staring.
You had noticed, of course—you always noticed when Jake was desperate for attention—but you had been trying to see how long he would hold out before cracking. You scrolled through your phone lazily, sipping from your water bottle, pretending to be completely oblivious to the fact that your boyfriend was sulking next to you like you had just broken his heart.
A deep, dramatic sigh.
You smirked, tilting your head just slightly to catch him in your peripheral. Sure enough, he was still pouting, still glaring at you like you had done something terrible.
You raised a brow. “What?”
Jake let out another, even heavier sigh, rolling onto his side to face you, his arms curling around your waist, pulling you against him like you were his last source of oxygen.
“You haven’t kissed me yet,” he muttered, muffled against your shirt.
You blinked. “What?”
Jake lifted his head, his expression pure devastation.
“You haven’t kissed me,” he repeated, dead serious.
You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up in your throat. “Jake—”
“Jakey,” he corrected, pointing to his cheek expectantly.
You bit your lip, eyes glimmering with amusement, but leaned in anyway, pressing a soft, slow peck to his cheek.
Jake let out the happiest sigh, his lips curling into the softest, sweetest little smile, eyes fluttering shut like he had just been granted salvation.
“Mmm,” he hummed, squeezing you tighter. “Better.”
You shook your head, laughing softly, trailing your fingers through his hair, but before you could pull away, he was tilting his chin up, tapping his other cheek.
“Missed a spot.”
You rolled your eyes, but indulged him, pressing another gentle kiss to his other cheek.
Jake sighed even deeper, his hands tightening around your waist, his grin growing even wider.
“Good girl,” he murmured, pressing his face into your neck, breathing you in.
You bit your lip, heart melting at how soft, sweet, and completely in love he was. Jake had his moods—he could be cocky, insatiable, dominant, but this? This was your favorite.
He nuzzled against you, sighing softly. “You know, I’ve been thinking about our wedding.”
Your breath hitched. “Oh?”
Jake just nodded, his smile so content, so blissful.
“Yeah. I’ve got it all planned out,” he mused, tilting his chin up expectantly again.
You smirked. “What?”
Jake pointed to his lips.
You giggled, leaning down, kissing him slow, savoring the soft little hum he let out, the way his fingers curled tighter into your sides.
When you pulled away, he was grinning like an idiot.
“Okay, so,” he started, eyes glimmering. “It’s gotta be on a beach. You in some flowy-ass dress, looking like a literal angel.”
You smiled at the thought, pressing another kiss to his temple.
Jake sighed, eyes slipping shut for a moment, his body completely relaxed, completely wrapped up in the idea.
“And our honeymoon?” he continued, his voice getting even softer, even dreamier. “Bora Bora. Or the Maldives. Somewhere I can keep you in bed for a whole week.”
You gasped, swatting his chest playfully. “Jake—”
“Jakey,” he corrected again, glaring immediately.
You sighed dramatically, leaning down and pressing a peck to his nose.
Jake sighed, so blissed out he could barely speak for a second.
“God, I love you,” he murmured, pressing tiny kisses to your collarbone, your shoulder, anywhere he could reach.
You smiled against his skin, your lips still ghosting over his temple. “Love you too.”
Jake hummed, shifting so he could press his forehead against yours, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.
“You know,” he started, his voice lower, softer, full of something even deeper. “I was thinking three kids. Two boys, one girl.”
You smiled. “Oh yeah?”
“Or,” he continued, grinning, “what if we get twins? Like, one of each?”
You kissed his cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”
Jake huffed, tugging you closer, burying himself into your warmth. “Not ridiculous. Just in love.”
He closed his eyes, sighing. “You’re gonna stay home, right? Take care of the house, the kids, let me take care of you?”
Your chest tightened. “You’d be okay with that?”
He snorted, pulling back to look at you like you had lost your mind. “Baby, I’d love that. I’d spoil you rotten.”
Your stomach flipped.
“Think about it,” he murmured, his voice turning lower, teasing. “You, waiting for me when I come home, wearing one of my shirts, telling me how much you missed me.”
You felt hot all over.
He smirked. “God, you’d be the best little housewife.”
You pressed your face into his chest, flustered, overwhelmed, completely wrapped around his finger.
Jake just laughed, holding you so tight, so safe, so his.
“And the house?” he murmured, squeezing your waist. “We need something big, but cozy. A huge kitchen—‘cause I know you love to cook. A fireplace, maybe? A backyard for the kids. A big-ass bed so I can keep you all to myself.”
You whined, squeezing your eyes shut. “Jake, stop.”
Jake grinned. “Jakey,” he corrected one last time, tapping his lips.
You rolled your eyes but leaned down anyway, kissing him slow, soft, deep.
He sighed into it, his fingers curling into your hair, holding you there, kissing you like he had all the time in the world.
And when you pulled away, breathless, hearts pounding, he whispered against your lips, “You’re gonna marry me.”
Your chest ached.
You couldn’t wait to. “Yeah, Jakey. I’m gonna marry you.”
-
The morning had started innocent enough.
At least, as innocent as waking up naked and tangled with Jake Sim could be.
You were supposed to get up early. You were supposed to go to class on time for once. But then Jake shifted, his warm, bare skin pressing into yours, his breath heavy against your ear, his hand already sliding between your thighs before you were even fully awake.
“Morning, baby,” he murmured, raspy, teasing, completely unbothered by the fact that you were already running late.
You lost all track of time.
Jake didn’t need to touch you to ruin you.
Sometimes, all it took was his voice.
“You’re not gonna make it to class, are you?” he mused, low and smug, his lips brushing against your ear.
You shuddered, squeezing your eyes shut as you pressed your thighs together, trying to ignore the way your body reacted to just his words.
Jake chuckled, shifting so he was propped up on one elbow, looking down at you like he was already planning how much worse he was going to make it. Slow, teasing, torturously confident.
“You always do this,” he murmured, tracing lazy patterns along your stomach. “Pretend you’re gonna leave. Act like you’re strong enough to walk away from me.”
You swallowed hard, gripping the sheets, your chest rising and falling too quickly.
Jake smirked. He noticed.
“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice was taunting, almost sympathetic. “Already shaking and I haven’t even touched you yet?”
You exhaled sharply, squeezing your legs tighter together.
Jake tsked. “Oh, sweetheart.”
His hand ghosted down, his fingers dragging over your hip, down the outside of your thigh, barely there, completely teasing.
“You’re already soaked, aren’t you?”
You whimpered, biting your lip, refusing to answer.
He hummed, shaking his head. “So easy for me.”
You turned your head, hiding your face against the pillow, but Jake wasn’t having that.
“Look at me,” he murmured, low and firm, the kind of tone that made your stomach flip.
You hesitated, but turned back, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark, heavy, filled with pure amusement.
“There’s my good girl,” he murmured, running a finger down your cheek, his voice turning softer, but still full of that unbearable smugness.
You swallowed, trying to keep your breathing even, but Jake could see right through you.
“You don’t wanna go to class,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your jaw, so soft, so slow. “You wanna stay right here, let me ruin you all over again.”
Your fingers dug into the sheets.
“Say it,” he coaxed, his hand sliding lower, his mouth hovering just above yours. “Tell me you’d rather be late.”
Your lips parted, your breath shaky.
Jake smirked, running his nose along your cheek, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth.
“You wanna be good for me, don’t you, baby?”
You whimpered, your resolve crumbling.
And that’s all it took.
Jake chuckled, shifting over you fully, pressing you back into the mattress.
“That’s my girl.”
-
By the time you both finally dragged yourselves out of bed, you were already doomed.
Jake smirked as you struggled to stand on shaky legs, his grip on your waist firm as he steadied you, smug as ever.
“Careful, baby,” he murmured, biting his lip as he took in the mess he had made of you.
You shoved him, grumbling under your breath as you pulled on your sweater, knowing full well that no amount of adjusting was going to hide the way you looked thoroughly ruined.
Jake didn’t even try.
He pulled on the first hoodie he could find, rubbing a hand through his already-mussed-up hair, his lips still swollen from kissing you senseless.
By the time you actually left, you were beyond late.
Your professor narrowed his eyes immediately.
Jake grinned, throwing an arm around your shoulders like it was no big deal, guiding you to your seats with zero shame, zero regret.
“Nice of you to finally join us,” your professor said dryly, crossing his arms, glancing between the two of you.
You swallowed hard. “Uh, yeah, sorry,”
Your professor raised a brow. “You both look… disheveled.”
You felt your entire body heat up, shifting in your seat as Jake just smirked.
“Must’ve been the wind,” Jake said smoothly, kicking his feet up under the desk, looking completely unbothered.
Your professor wasn’t convinced.
He squinted, glancing at you, then at Jake, then back at you.
“Uh-huh,” he said slowly. “The wind.”
Jake grinned wider.
Your professor exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. “You know what? Forget it. I don’t want to know.”
You nearly collapsed in relief, but Jake?
Jake was having way too much fun.
He leaned over, whispering in your ear, his voice low, teasing, smug.
“Baby, I think we’re getting too obvious.”
You resisted the urge to kick him under the desk.
From then on, every time you and Jake showed up late to class, looking like an absolute mess— Your professor just sighed, shook his head, and looked the other way.
synopsis: What happens when you wake up next to your best friend with raging morning wood?
warnings: smut!
word count: 1.1k
author's note: hey long time no see guys. just wanted to share this oneshot with yall cuz i havent posted in forevaaa. hope u enjoy ^^
-
You've known Jake since you were kids. Growing up together, your bond was unbreakable, more like siblings than friends. Sleepovers were a staple, sharing a bed without a second thought, even as teens. Now in your early twenties, attending the same university, that closeness lingered, though life had pulled you in different directions. Platonic. Familial. Always.
Last night was a blur of thumping bass and neon lights at the club. Shots flowed too freely, you were far too drunk and exhausted to make the trek back to your dorm, so Jake, ever the reliable one, slung your arm over his shoulder and guided you to his off campus apartment. "Crash here," he'd said with that sly grin. "Like old times.'" And it was no big deal. You'd piled into his queen sized bed in your clothes, Jake's steady breathing lulling you to sleep within minutes.
The next morning, light filtered through the blinds, stirring you awake first. Your head throbbed faintly from the hangover, but you felt surprisingly cozy in his bed. Blinking away your sleep, you turned toward Jake. He lay on his back, shirtless as always when he slept, his broad chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. The covers had slipped low, leaving him in just his tight black boxers. And there, straining unmistakably against the thin fabric, was his morning wood. Thick. Prominent. Impossible to ignore.
Heat rushed to your cheeks. You'd never seen him like this, never really looked. Sure, accidental glimpses while changing clothes over the years, but nothing like this blatant display. Your best friend, exposed in his most primal state. A strange flutter stirred in your stomach, warm and unfamiliar, pooling lower. What the hell? You swallowed hard, eyes locked on the bulge, torn between averting your gaze and... something else. Curiosity? Arousal? It made your thighs clench involuntarily.
Jake stirred then, a low groan escaping his lips as he stretched, arms flexing above his head. His eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep, and he turned his head toward you with a lazy smile. "Morning, sleepyhead. You look like hell, rough night, huh?"
You forced a laugh, tearing your eyes up to his face, but your voice came out a bit too high. "Yeah, uh, clubs hit different after a while. How're you feeling?"
He chuckled, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw, propping himself up on one elbow. The movement made the tent in his boxers shift noticeably, but he seemed oblivious. "Like I got hit by a truck, but I'll live. Coffee? Or you wanna lay here for a bit more?"
"Coffee sounds good," you replied, trying to focus on his words, on the posters on his wall, anything but the heat radiating from his body next to yours. You shifted slightly, the sheets whispering against your skin.
"Last night was insane, though. Remember when that creep tried to grind on me and you just... yeeted him?"
Jake barked a laugh, sitting up fully now, the outline of his erection bobbing with the motion. "Dude had it coming. No one's messing with my bestie on my watch." His gaze drifted down, following yours despite your efforts, and he paused. Realization dawned at what you were staring at, and he glanced at his lap with a casual shrug. "Oh... that? That happens every morning. No biggie."
Your heart hammered. Why did that nonchalance make it hotter? You don't know what possessed you, maybe the hangover loosening your inhibitions, maybe the sight of him so vulnerably hard, but the words tumbled out before you could stop them. "Do you... need help with it?"
His eyes widened, snapping back to yours. For a beat, silence hung thick in the air. Then a slow, surprised grin spread across his face, darkening with intent. "You serious?"
You nodded.
-
Jake's hand tangled in your hair as you knelt between his legs, his boxers shoved down to his thighs. His cock stood rigid, veined and throbbing, pre-cum beading at the slit. You wrapped your fingers around the base, stroking firmly while your tongue flicked out to lap at the tip, tasting the salty essence. He hissed, hips bucking slightly. "Fuck... yeah, just like that."
You took him deeper, lips stretching around his girth as you sucked, hollowing your cheeks. Your head bobbed steadily, tongue swirling along the underside, tracing every ridge. He was huge, filling your mouth completely, but you worked him with fervor, slow drags followed by faster pumps, one hand twisting at the root while the other cupped his balls, rolling them gently. Saliva dripped down your chin, messy and obscene, as you hummed around him, the vibration drawing guttural moans from his throat.
"Goddamn, your mouth... best fucking head ever,'" Jake groaned, guiding your pace, abs clenching. You glanced up, meeting his heated gaze, and doubled down, deep throating him until your nose brushed his trimmed pubes, gagging softly but pushing through. He swelled impossibly harder, cursing under his breath. "Shit, I'm—"
He came with a groan, thick ropes of cum flooding your mouth. You swallowed greedily, milking every drop until he slumped back, panting.
But he wasn't done. In a blur, Jake hauled you up, flipping you onto your back. "My turn to wreck you," he growled, ripping your clothes off with zero patience. Your pussy was soaked, aching, and he wasted no time. lining up his still hard cock and slamming in raw, bare, to the hilt.
You cried out, walls clenching around his thickness as he set a brutal rhythm. No mercy. He pounded into you relentlessly, hips snapping with punishing force, balls slapping against your ass. "So fucking tight... take it all," he grunted, pinning your wrists above your head. "You feel like a virgin... are you?"
"Hah... you wish. You think a virgin could suck you off like that?" you shot back.
He just laughed, low and rough, the sound vibrating through his chest as he drove deeper. "Yeah, you're right. Take it all like the slut you are," he growled. Each thrust stretched you wide, hitting deep, your juices coating him as he railed you into the mattress.
He hiked your legs over his shoulders, angling deeper, grinding against your g spot until stars burst behind your eyes. You came hard, screaming his name, pussy spasming around his cock, but he didn't stop. Flipping you onto your stomach, he yanked your hips up and drove back in, fucking you like an animal, hand fisting your hair. Sweat slick skin slapped together, his grunts mixing with your whimpers as he chased his release.
"Cum inside me," you begged, and that undid him. With a final, savage thrust, he buried deep and erupted, flooding your pussy with hot spurts of cum, marking you as his.
⌗rightwhereiwannabe — you’re mean and jake knows that .. but he doesn’t mind it
( s. jaeyun x fem!reader ) • warnings. sub!jake, reader is kinda toxic , face sitting , unprotected sex , overstimulation 𓄵 word count. 1001 { back to library }
( request ). ahh ur reqs are open!!! could u write a mean!reader x nerd!jake ,, he knows she loves him but shes just so mean to him
jake’s friends no longer felt concern about their friend’s safety when they saw you yelling at him , or pulling him around campus — because the smile on his face along with the look of love showed he wanted to be there.
did you yell at jake all lot? yes ; pull at his hair , tug in his ear and call him stupid when he was probably smarter than anyone you’ve ever met? also yes — but did you love him? jake knew you did , and that was what mattered.
“she really is mean though.” sunghoon said. “like it’s hard to tell if she actually likes you.” jake shrugged.
“she does like me , she just has a weird way of showing it.”
and as if you could sense him talking about you , you can walking over , that permanent scowl on your face. “come on.” you barely gave him a chance to gather his stuff , or say goodbye to his friends before you were dragging him away , already yelling about something he did.
“i told you not to keep me waiting , and i still had to come find you.” jake followed behind you , your purse in his hand. “are you stupid?”
“i’m sorry , i got caught up with sunghoon.”
“sunghoon must be fucking you then , you forgot about your fucking girlfriend.” rolling your eyes as you opened the door to his apartment. “idiot.”
“baby i am sorry i swear.”
jake didn’t like when you were mad at him , that’s why he preferred when you were yelling at him , at least you showed him affection. “please answer me.”
you were currently ignoring him , arms folding as you sat on his bed , he was sitting next to you , pleading for you to at least look at him. “look at me please.”
you were aware how mean you could be to jake sometimes , and sometimes it did make you feel bad , but you never told him that. “what?”
he sighed , finally hearing your voice. “i’m sorry.” he started a slew of apologies. “i’m so sorry i’ll never leave you waiting again.” he was ready to make it up to you. “please how can i make you feel better,”
your hand came up to his cheek , his eyes closed feeling your touch; your hand tangled in his hair , he sighed. “listen to me when i tell you to do something.” he felt the sharp tug of his hair.
“o-okay.” he stuttered , his cock stirring in his jeans; he liked when you did that , he admitted it was probably sick and he was a perv , but he couldn’t help it.
that’s how he found himself laying on the bed , his face suffocated by your thighs as the tip of his nose grazed your clit , moaning into your pussy as he tugged at his hair. “fuck , keep going , be good for something.”
jake fucking loved when you used him , his cock was straining uncomfortably against his jeans as you suffocated him with your pussy , your juices dripping down his chin. “fuck i’m gonna cum.” you moaned , grabbing the headboard as you came.
he moaned as you pulled away , sitting in his lap directly on his cock. “ba-baby.” his glasses crooked on his face.
“fuck hard as a rock just by that?” you scoffed. “if you cum i won’t fuck you for a month , it’s fucking pointless of you can cum at the slightest fucking thing.” he whimpered.
“pl-please , please i need to be inside you.”
you started to slowly move your hips , grinding down on his cock. “wa-wait no.” he hissed. “i’m gonna cum if you -fuck-”
“pl-please i don’t wanna cum yet.”
your hand wrapped around his neck , squeezing. “do you think you deserve to be fucked?” your hips never faulting. “after leaving me stranded.”
“i-i said i was sorry.” he whimpered. “ba-baby please.” he felt like he was gonna cum — no he knew he was gonna cum , which was proven true as you pulled his jeans down.
his eyes widened as he felt it happen, his cock twitching as you slid down on him — he had cum , his load filling your cunt. “fu-fuck i’m sorry.”
you fully sat down on him , he hissed. “did you seriously just cum?” you scoffed. “fucking pathetic.”
you started to move , bouncing on his cock; his head was thrown back. “ba-baby wait.” he stuttered. “fuck , i’m gonna cum again.” he tugged at his hair so hard it felt like hair came out , he yelled.
“don’t fucking dare.” you hissed. “fucking hold it.” he whimpered; you smirked , you liked when he became desperate.
“ba-baby please , please i need to cum.”
“hold it.” moving faster , his hand on your waist eyes rolled to the back of his head as you fucked him dumb. “fu-fuck , finally good for something.” you moaned. “i would’ve dropped you if wasn’t for what was attached to you.”
he knew you didn’t mean it , the pure humiliation of made his cock leak. “fuck i’m cumming.”
he felt your cunt squeeze him , cumming around him. “ca-can i cum now?”
“cum.”
that’s all he needed before he blew his load , his moans so loud you were tempted to cover his mouth — but you’re a sucker for his moans. “i love you so much , please don’t be mad”
“hey , hey listen to me.” you slapped his cheek , not to hurt him , but to get his attention. “are you okay?”
people didn’t see this side of you , when you were softer to him. “i’m not mad at you.” you said flatly. “just stop being stupid , and listen to me when i tell you to do something.”
“let’s shower.” climbing off of him.
“we can watch that stupid anime you’ve been wanting to watch.”
he smiled , you fixed his crooked glasses on his face . “ok-okay.”
pairing: ex!jake x fem!reader
warnings: suggestive!!! sex jokes, profanity, doxxing/stalking mentioned, brief mention of alcohol/ being drunk, kinda toxic jake, crack, poor attempt at humour
✮⋆˙
phantom's notes: been kinda obsessed with reading smau’s like this, so here’s my take on it :p
!! just a reminder that everything is fictional and not representative of anyone portrayed !!
Thanks for reading, feedback is always appreciated •⩊•
◍ SECRET RECIPE TO YOUR LOVE 𓂃 심재윤 - @coqhee (in which jake receives a list from your friends with all your favorite things and uses them in an attempt to get you to fall in love with him)
◍ super hard & horny jake with sleeping f reader - @paarksunghoon
◍ the matchmatic 3000 ─ s. jy - @jakesimfromstatefarm (simp, i mean, sim jaeyun is a hopeless romantic. a cursed hopeless romantic, he would say, doomed to exist as just your friend, nothing more. but when his genius (read: nerdy) best friend creates a highly accurate matchmaking app for the university, jake is ready to bribe, beg, and possibly sell his soul to make sure he gets paired with you. plan a? hack the system. plan b? there is no plan b. to jake, being delulu is the solulu, and he's all in)
◍ to believe | sjy - @ikeuverse (you have the mission of being godmother at your brother's wedding, but the only obstacle is sharing it with his best friend, and your ex-bf who you're sure cheated on you, jake sim)
◍ sim jaeyun — sense. - @karinasbaby (in which.. jake gets affected by an unknown aphrodisiac potion in the middle of a fight)
◍ FRENZY ៸៸៸ part one - @simpjaes (Jake is experiencing real love for the first time in his life. He’s so infatuated with you that he would do anything to make you understand. And you? Oh, you are in no place to argue with a man who appears to be perfect)
◍ SIM JAEYUN: INTO THE SPIDER-VERSE. - @wonryllis (where you are JAKE SIM'𝓼 MJ)
◍ BAJA BLAST - S.JY - @sleepyhoon (religious stepbro!jake x fem reader)
◍ 𓈒 ㅤ୨୧ ㅤ𓈒 taking jakes glasses off for a kiss - @jiwuu (fmr x sim jaeyun, est. relationship, kissies)
◍ professional yearner (jake sim edition) - @itendtothinkalot (growing up, you had two heroes: jake and sunghoon. thick and thin, chaos and crayons, they were always there. so when your ex dumped you for "being so oddly close to your best friends” well… fair. but what he didn’t get is that you never needed him. you’ve always had jake sim and maybe that was the problem)
◍ NONSTOP — SIM JAEYUN - @sjyuns (in which your virgin geek of a boyfriend has sex for the first time and you can't keep up with his extremely high sex drive)
◍ ☆ Tape Me - s.jy ☆ - @brokenengene (It’s 2005 and your boyfriend finally paused his PS2 game so you can ride him. You bounce on him recording his fucked out face as he swears this isn't what the camcorder was for)
◍ C'MON KEEP UP! ₊ university au 𐙚 - @yi2huo (after a throwaway statement from heeseung, you can't help but notice your best friend jake in ways you've never noticed before. even worse, things get complicated when sunghoon gets added to the mix)
◍ All Pouty & Wet (SJY) - @yvnempire (jake makes reader feel good after having an argument)
◍ HUSBAND! JAKE HARD THOUGHT - @hoondrop (explicit content, filthy language, possessive obsession, overstimulation, dirty talk, cock worship, creampie, husband kink, and light humiliation kink (desperation theme))
◍ ❛ DISTRACTION ✶ 제이크 - @iekeu (IN WHICH you see him with a compression shirt for the first time)
◍ ✧ Too Warm to Cuddle… But Not Really ✦༺⊹ - @shyoko (Jake x Reader | Fluff | Comfort | Slightly Dramatic Pouting | Soft Moments)
◍ More than enough ━━━━ S.J - @heartsriki (Jake’s always been the slow, chill type, but when his friends make him doubt if that’s enough to keep you, he surprises you with your first kiss)
◍ NO RULES BY THE RIVER ✦ 𝗦𝗝𝗬. - @laumier (having just a bit of freedom—away from your duties, your court, your castle. freedom with him)
◍ close enough to be touched - @belovedniki (you’re just doing your job. jake’s just trying not to moan when you touch his face. no big deal)
◍ hello kitty meets batman (real not clickbait!) ☆ jake sim - @star-sim (jake sim was youtube's cut-throat, horror creator, known for his dark video style. meanwhile, you were the cutesy beauty vlogger, lighting up every algorithmically generated home page you touched. no one would have expected you two vastly different people to know each other, let alone be in a long-term relationship)
◍ BOYFRIEND TEXTS WITH JAKE - @enhavip
◍ THE POTTERY SHOP AT THE EDGE OF THE WORLD - @en-ternity (Falling in love with your older brother’s best friend certainly wasn’t one of your summer resolutions. Actually, meeting him wasn’t even part of your plans. But someday, you happened to have no other option than to appear unannounced at his little pottery shop in Seogwipo. A stray kitten in a pet carrier, asking for a place to stay, and you couldn’t help but do)
◍ ✷ LIQUID SWEETENER ⸻ sim jaeyun - @intromortal (jake takes care of his sick girlfriend, but with an unexpected twist)
◍ ── ☆ 𝑨𝑮𝑶𝑹𝑨 𝑯𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑺𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶཐི༏ཋྀ - @041ahy (Jake chose Fortnite over his girlfriend for 4 hours. Now he’s hard, ignored, and emotionally destroyed. Lesson learned: Never skip skincare night for a Victory Royale)
⟢ PAIRING: sim (jake) jaeyun x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 10.2K ⟢ GENRE: fluff, angst, smut ⟢ TAGS: badboy!au, innocent!reader, opposites attract, sexual tension, corruption kink, dirty talk, fingering, oral (m + f receiving), 69, pet names (baby, angel, etc.), face sitting, protected sex. ⟢ SYNOPSIS: Just because there's a new and seemingly bad influence in your small town, it doesn't mean you have to fall privy to his charms, no matter how beautiful he is. But when he takes notice of you, none of the gossiping wine moms can stop him from getting what he wants.
➸ shoutout to @kwanisms and @mini-mews for helping this fic come to fruition, ily guys sm and this is genuinely one of my favorite pieces ive ever written aaa.
“Have you heard about the new family who moved into town? The son is a real piece of work!”
“He’s twenty-one but acts like he’s still sixteen on that damn motorcycle. No class or consideration whatsoever!”
“Maybe they’ll keep him in check if they decide to come to church this weekend. You know Reverend Park has no time for miscreants and delinquents.”
The familiar crowd on your mother’s front porch greets you as you’re attempting to exit the house. They cool themselves off with their makeshift fans and drink your mother’s homemade lemonade in the Saturday sun, continuing to harp on the locals in town that they’ve known for years.
Somewhere in their conversation, they drifted to the topic of the new family that moved in across the street. Three days was all it took for them to begin spouting their judgemental observations, every act from the new middle-aged couple and their son fodder for their discussion.
You smile politely with every fiber of your being, despite your instincts to snap at them and be on your merry way. If only they knew how ironic they are, pointing fingers at others from their high horses when the town kept enough space for their dirty little secrets. “Nice to see you this morning, ladies.”
They say your name with grace, their tones all air with little substance. “On your way to bible study?” Mrs. Choi asks, gazing at you from the rim of her glass.
You shake your head. “Just tutoring.”
“With the Nishimura boy? What a sweet kid.” When Riki’s name leaves Mrs. Lee’s lips, all the women hum in agreement. “Such a bright future ahead of him.”
“Of course, as long as he passes English,” you joke. The women’s faces don’t change, not taking your teasing with an ounce of anything but seriousness. The bags under their eyes, lipstick smudged in the tiny corners of their teeth, and piercing attitudes begin to damper your excitement for the day. You bid them goodbye quickly with another smile, walking down the stairs and onto the path down the street.
As you turn down the sidewalk, still hearing the resounding chatter from the women, your thoughts run wild. Is this what life would be like when you were older, doing nothing but kicking your feet up on a neighbor’s porch with only other people’s business to fill your time? Spending endless days and nights at church, listening to the same sermons leave Reverend Park’s lips until you become as overly critical as they all are?
The screech of tires halts your thoughts in their place. “Watch it!” A young man’s voice pierces the morning air, making you step back even further. You hadn’t realized how far you had walked into the road until you were back on the safety of the sidewalk. You trip on a crack between the two slabs of concrete, falling backwards and meeting the ground hard.
“Shit, are you okay?” He takes his helmet off, immediately hooking it to his handlebars to check on you.
Sim Jaeyun.
You had not met him formally until this moment, but the motorcycle and undeniable looks gave away his status as your new neighbor. Your parents had decided to let the new family settle in before trying to visit and introduce themselves. If they could see you now, your maxi skirt hitched up to your knees and the boy barely a foot away from you, they would have had a field day.
Sure, you both are of age. Butlike Mrs. Choi, Mrs. Lee, and other local townsfolk always do, people will talk about such a compromising position if you aren’t careful.
All those thoughts fade away though when Jake kneels beside you, his face flooded with concern. His eyes linger on the broken skin on your legs and then across your flushed face. “Does it hurt?”
You shake your head. “It’s barely a scratch. Sorry I almost ran into you.”
“More like almost ran into my bike.” He laughs, his expression one of relief as well as humor. “I’m just glad you’re in one piece.”
“Thank the lord.” You brush your hands on your skirt and begin to stand up, but Jake grabs you by the hand to help, taking all your weight with him.
“Thank you,” you say, brushing the free hair from your braid out of your face.
“You’re welcome.” He unclips his helmet from the bar and gestures back to his bike. “I can drive you to wherever you’re going if you want. I don’t have a second helmet, but–”
You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips, the thought of riding on the back of a motorcycle too ridiculous to envision given your status as the deacon’s daughter. What would people say?
Jake just furrows his brows, his lips turning up at the corners. “Is my offer that funny?”
“No,” you say, “I would love to, it’s just–”
“Sim Jaeyun!” The shrill sound of Mrs. Choi’s voice makes you take another step away from Jake, unaware you were as close as you were to him. His presence seems to be magnetic, just like his smile. “Stay away from her or so help me God!”
Jake turns to the old woman down the road and nods his head, trying to be respectful but clearly irritated from her meddling. “Yes ma’am,” he yells, stepping back and getting closer to his bike.
“Maybe another time,” Jake says, “when you’re not flocked by the whining wine moms.”
You laugh and nod. “Maybe.”
Jake rides away on his bike, the wispy ends of his hair your last picture of him before he makes a sharp turn at the end of your street.
“Why do I need to learn this?” Riki groans, laying his head flat against his desk. The church bells ring as he knocks his head in the same rhythm against the polished wood.
“Because you need to be able to interpret text if you want to go off to college, Nishi. Otherwise you’ll be illiterate and an embarrassment to the entire town!” You put on your best harping, disapproving voice. It makes Riki laugh as he lifts his head. You’re glad at least the younger kids appreciate your sense of humor, unlike the older brood flooding your hometown.
“Alright, fine.” He opens his copy of Heart of Darkness, beginning to read the page in front of him. “I avoided a vast artificial hole somebody had been digging on the slope…”
A knock on the classroom door makes you and Riki turn. Yeri opens it with a shy grin, saying your name with the same nature. “Someone’s here to see you!”
“Who?”
“Some cute guy on a motorcycle? But don’t tell Jungwon I said that!” She runs back out the door and leaves you puzzled. Surely it’s not Jake. You just met him; he wouldn’t make the effort to try and follow you to your tutoring session, especially at the church of all places.
You head to the window to see Jake sitting against his bike, looking around at his surroundings. He’s wearing the same leather jacket and gray jeans, his white shirt marked with several spots of sweat. Riki comes up behind you, making a sound of acknowledgement. “Oh, that’s Jake!”
“Jake?” You look closer. “I thought his name was Jaeyun.”
“Yeah, but I call him Jake.” He laughs. “He’s my cousin.”
You nod your head, taking in his words. Jake’s sudden move made a lot more sense, seeing as Riki’s mother was getting sicker every day. She must have needed some help from her family to not only manage her household, but make sure Riki stayed on track.
“He probably wants to see you. Yeri must’ve gotten it all mixed up.”
Riki grabs his phone, scrolling through texts with his thumb. “Actually, he did mention almost running over a cute girl on his way to work.” The young boy smirks. “I’m gonna assume that’s you?”
You blush, the flush on your cheeks making you feel hot. “Whatever. He’s probably just picking you up!”
“I brought my own bicycle, dude. And as cool as Jake is, his driving makes me nauseous.” Riki begins packing up his belongings on the desk as you wonder what Jake would want to say that hadn’t already been said earlier. Surely he had no interest in talking to you beyond another apology for almost killing you earlier, not that you would have noticed.
As your thoughts continue on, you barely hear Riki’s parting words. “Have fun making out with my cousin!”
You venture outside and are greeted to Jake’s soft smile as he looks you over. “Didn’t expect you to be teaching my cousin how to read.”
You laugh. “When would that have come up? Before or after I fell face-first on the sidewalk?”
“Technically, you fell on your ass.” He looks over the cuts on your leg again. “Still doesn’t hurt?”
“Barely remember it.”
“Damn. Didn’t realize I was so forgettable,” he teases. You shuck your backpack over your shoulder, pretending his joke didn’t land. But you can’t help how your mouth curves into a grin. “Wanna take me up on that ride now? I don’t see any wine moms in sight.”
Being clear headed and not in the midst of a compromising position, you take a better look at Jake. He may look rugged from the neck down, muscles standing out through his jacket, but his face is incredibly youthful and vulnerable without a touch of hardness. Maybe the wine moms had gotten it wrong; maybe Jake’s actually a stand-up guy bundled up in a lot of leather.
Before you can answer, your father seems to appear from thin air. He wraps his arm around your shoulder. “Mr. Sim, pleasure to meet you officially.”
Your father holds out his hand for Jake, and Jake takes it with a steadfast grip. “Nice to meet you too sir. My mother was telling me how much you’ve been helping my aunt since she can’t attend services anymore.”
“Akemi is a pillar of our church. It’s only right to take care of one of our own as the deacon.” Your father squeezes you tighter to his side. “Glad to see you and my daughter have met. I hope she’s made a good impression upon you.”
“Yes sir. Very much so.” He smiles in your direction. The dimple in his cheek makes your heart flutter in your chest, the butterflies undeniable.
“Well, please tell your parents to come to ours soon for dinner. It would be a pleasure.” Your father begins the quick walk to his car, the silent request for you to follow him clear in his stern posture. You give Jake an apologetic smile before you leave, hoping your eyes hold the promise of taking him up on that ride someday.
When you’re both out of earshot and in the confines of your father’s car, he turns to you with a frown. “Do not get yourself involved with that boy. He doesn’t strike me as very forthcoming.”
You stutter out an excuse. Surely the first day of knowing Jake wouldn’t be the last. “F-Father–”
“Listen to me, sweetie. I know what I’m talking about.” He starts the car and begins the drive home, tightening his fists on the steering wheel. “I mean it. Do not see that boy again.”
The next morning, you’re sitting in one of the front pews with your mother, Yeri, and her mother. You see your fellow townsfolk in attendance in the other pews, Jungwon being one of them, Yeri’s longtime boyfriend. Mrs. Choi and Mrs. Lee look like they are partially focused on the attendees, but also on their own gossip.
All of you are dressed in your best outfits, your hair wrapped in a bun to maintain the peak of modesty. It doesn’t seem particularly realistic for a higher power to be judging you for your hairdo, but you gave in to your mother’s ridiculous requests as always. “We are important people in this community, darling,” your mother said as she stuck the umpteenth bobby pin in your hair. “If they can’t trust us, who can they trust?”
Riki sits behind you, his pew empty save for him. When you offer the empty spot next to you before the procession starts, he shakes his head. “Jake and his folks will be here any second.”
Your gut tightens, the words of your father playing over in your head. You know you have to heed his orders at all times, but the excitement you feel at the prospect of seeing Jake is unavoidable.
A minute before your childhood friend Heeseung sits at the piano to play the beginning of How Great Is Our God, Jake and his family walk inside. Jake’s impeccably dressed, clad in a red dress-shirt and suit pants. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, revealing a handful of tattoos you didn’t notice the day prior. He has his mother’s arm in one hand and a bible in the other, looking completely out of place but incredibly mesmerizing.
He winks at you when he sits down, making you turn your head back to your friend at the piano. You follow in your mother’s and Yeri’s lead, singing alongside them and forgetting the new buzz in your veins. You can feel his eyes on you throughout the songs and sermons, and you should say that you don’t enjoy it, but you don't kid yourself. His attention makes your body tingle in all the right and wrong ways.
You excuse yourself in the intermission, walking outside until you’re a good ten paces away from the church. You take several pins out of your hair, grunting. The incessant tools had been scratching your scalp uncomfortably for the past three hours, and it feels like freedom taking them out one at a time.
It isn’t that you don’t believe in a higher power or the teachings your father and Reverend Park have supplied you with your entire life. The town is just too suffocating on days like these, setting you up to feel like you aren’t good enough no matter how hard you try every day to perfect yourself.
The fashion show of your humble, presentable outfit, the whispered chatter from your community, the watchful eyes of holy men. They all make your skin crawl, that itch only intensifying with every day that passes. How could you stay in such a small room for years and feel misunderstood by everyone?
Jake saunters up to you, making you gasp in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”
He smirks, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I thought you weren’t supposed to say his name in vain.”
You shrug, smiling in relief to find it’s just him and nobody else. No-one to meddle, judge, or question your absence. “I’ll just say a few words of penance. I’m sure he’ll forgive me.”
“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Jake chuckles and steps closer to you, his eyes lingering on your dress. It’s incredibly modest, the only skin showing high above your cleavage. but the look in his eyes still makes your nerves tremble.
You wonder what thoughts are swimming in his head and if a majority of them are impure. Would it be so wrong to confess that you feel the same? That whatever he’s imagining mirrors your own fantasies ten times over?
“The updo doesn’t suit you,” he says finally.
You giggle and cross your arms. “It doesn’t, huh?”
He steps closer, so close you can feel his breath on your skin. It lingers across your neck and shoulder blades. You shudder, hoping he doesn’t notice how his presence affects you. He reaches behind you and takes hold of the hair tie keeping your bun together. He expertly undoes it, your hair falling in waves around your shoulders.
Before he walks away, the church bells signaling the recommencement of the procession, he whispers in your ear, “Much more breathtaking with your hair down, angel.”
The next time you see Jake, he’s across from you at your family’s dinner table, all laughs with Jungwon and Yeri as your father passes out the rest of the side dishes. Riki is also there, discussing his mother’s treatment with your mother and Jake’s parents.
You can’t help the way your eyes attach to Jake across from you. It’s almost a form of punishment that you were made to sit in such close proximity, the weight of his stare on you swallowing you whole.
The feeling of his hand in your hair, his mouth against your ear–it was all so incredibly inappropriate. You shouldn’t have thought about that day last week with such excruciating frequency, but you did. You thought about it when you heard the wine moms whispering about Jake on your porch, when Yeri and Jungwon talked about him as you studied, and when you were alone at night.
In your dreams, it was even more painful. In a perfect world, he would take his hand from your hair and keep it on your neck, holding you close. He would move his lips from the shell of your ear to the side of your neck, kissing and tasting what skin was available to him in that moment to make you come undone.
Yes, sitting across from him is torment. But the alternative is worse, not seeing him at all and having to conjure images of him alone in the quiet of your bedroom.
“Deacon, sir,” Jungwon pipes up from his spot next to Jake, addressing your father directly. “I was going to study with Jaeyun and Yeri at my house if you wouldn’t mind your daughter tagging along.”
The muscle in your father’s jaw clenches. He’s clearly unhappy with one of the attendees being Jake, but he hides it behind a smile. “It’s up to her. What do you think, sweetie?”
On one hand, you should absolutely say no. Jake may take you into a random spot of Jungwon’s house and make any resolve you still have disappear with the flick of his wrist. Even in the company of your friends, you know no place is safe when he’s around and close to you. And were you willing to crumble so easily?
At the same time, the distance is eating away at you. You can’t take another charged glance in your direction, words unspoken but begging to be released. If you have to catch his bedroom eyes on your body one more time, you may just snap in front of everyone, and care little when you do.
“Sure. I’d love to, Wonie,” you say with a grin. “Nishi, you want to come too?”
Riki shakes his head, enjoying the fruitcake your mom set out. “I’ll stay. Someone has to help clean up.” Jake’s mom squeezes one of his cheeks. Riki’s face suddenly turns pink from his aunt’s affection, making everyone laugh.
On your way out the door, your father catches you by the arm. He whispers, “No later than midnight. Understood?”
On the cusp of 10 PM, you want to protest that time with your friends is already so limited, but you obey with a nod and walk out the door.
When you get in the backseat of Jungwon’s car, Jake too comfortable beside you, you feel your body flicker to life. “So,” you say, “your house then, Won?”
Yeri and Jungwon laugh, a conspiratory look in both of their eyes. “We’re just gonna make a quick stop first.”
Kiss ‘Em Creek was the unofficial name of the lake that ran through your town, a spot for teenagers to spend a few hours alone with their friends or partners. It wasn’t scientifically-correct, but it stuck nonetheless, many of the locals taking advantage of the not-so-secret hideaway. What went on there you only heard about through Yeri and the wine moms’ conversations, their voices littered with disappointment and condemnation.
Jungwon parks his car and turns his eyes to meet yours in the rearview mirror, that scheming smile still playing on his lips. “Ready to take a dip?”
Your eyes widen. You shake your head at a rapid pace, making your friends and Jake chuckle. “No way,” you say.
“C’mon babe, live a little!” Yeri winks and exits the car, Jungwon hot on her heels. The two of them begin to strip to their underwear, eager to jump in the water together. Jungwon picks her up in a bridal carry, Yeri laughing the entire way as he takes the first step into the awaiting lake.
As the two lovebirds continue heading towards the water, you and Jake sit in comfortable silence, your heartbeat slowly rising at the prospect of being alone in the car together. No distractions, no disappointed parents, no judgemental hags. Just the two of you under a cloud of stars and beautiful moonlight.
“I didn’t know if you would come tonight,” Jake says, filling the silence with a quiet chuckle. “Thought you were avoiding me at all costs, like I’m some kind of plague.”
“No!” You turn in your seat to face him. His expression is teasing but holds undercurrents of disappointment, clearly confused where your feelings lie. And he has every right to feel that way. One minute you’re wishing he would pull you closer, and the next you feel it’s better he keeps his distance. “I just don’t know what your intentions are.”
His eyes darken and his lips curve into a beautiful but intimidating smile. “Is it not obvious?”
You squeeze your thighs together, a wave of heat spreading through your bones. “Maybe I just want you to say it out loud.”
He scoots closer to you, his chest a heartbeat away from yours. “Well, to start,” he says, “I would really like to kiss you.”
You smile. A breathless laugh leaves your lips, eager to know what it would feel like to touch his mouth to yours. “I’d like that too.”
Jake runs a hand through your hair and rests it on your cheek. His touch is as fragile as the tension between you. “Then what are you so afraid of?”
You shut your eyes, trying to come up with the right words and falling short. “It’s just everyone–”
“Fuck everyone else.” He forces you to look into his eyes, the words leaving his mouth being some of the truest ones you’ve ever heard in your life. “You’re not a bad person or a sinner for wanting what you want.”
“I know that.”
“You may know it but you don’t believe it.” Jake’s lips ghost over yours, his breath tickling your cheeks. “Stop thinking about what everyone else thinks of you. Think of yourself for once.”
Maybe Jake’s right. All of your choices in life have been dictated by what your parents, friends, and total strangers have felt. If you listened to your own heart, you would have left all of them in the dust by now, chasing what you really wanted far away from this place.
At the same time, you’re glad to be in this car with Jake. He’s so close to you, telling you to take the leap and choose yourself for the first time in a long time.
When you press your lips to his, the feeling of his mouth on yours soft and tentative, you know you can’t wake up tomorrow the same person. This choice will ripple into all the choices you make from this moment on, but you don’t seem to care.
All that matters is his mouth, taking more control and setting a fire deep in your belly. He presses his tongue to the juncture of your lips, diving inside without protest.
You moan into his mouth, feeling one hand firmly pressed on your neck as the other runs down your shirt to squeeze at your breast through your clothes.
“Fuck, tell me to stop,” Jake says with a heady whisper, still kneading your breast with his palm. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”
You shake your head, moving closer to him to the point you’re halfway on his lap, legs intertwined with his. “So help me God, don’t stop now.”
He snickers, pecking your lips again. “You said his name in vain again.”
You roll your eyes as he chuckles into your neck. “That wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” You move your lips to his cheek. “Or the second.” They trail down to his neck, taking your fantasies and etching them into his skin. “Or third.”
“Fuck,” Jake curses, holding you tight against him. “You’re too good at this.”
You smirk. “Contrary to popular belief, you’re not the first person I’ve ever kissed.”
He laughs, the rumble of it vibrating against your mouth. “I don’t care as long as you keep kissing me.”
“Wasn’t planning on stopping.” By the time you reattach your mouth to his, you’re straddling his lap. His hands are nestled on the small of your back, wanting to inch down further but unsure where or what your boundaries are.
You take the initiative, suddenly bold, and put both of his palms on your backside. “If you wanted to touch my ass, you could’ve just said so.”
Jake licks his lips, his accent coming out in a husky whisper. “I want to touch you in a lot of places. Your ass just happens to be easily accessible right now.”
“Oh really?” You giggle. “Care to enlighten me?”
Jake sharply switches positions, your back against the expanse of the backseat as he towers over you. He rubs his hands across the outside of your thighs, eager but patient. “Gladly.”
He kisses your neck, suckling and licking with perfect pressure, making you whimper. “Jaeyun,” you say out loud, his name coming out like a question more than a statement.
“Use your words, angel. Tell me what you want.” His eyes pass over your face, your kissable lips and lust-blown irises. You’re too entrenched in him now to walk away from this car the same girl, and you wouldn’t want it any other way.
It may end badly, crash and burn completely like everyone expects it to, but that’s the last thing you care about right now.
“I want you to touch me.” You take one of his hands on your thighs and place it over your underwear, its center damp.
“Jesus,” he says in wonder, rubbing his fingers against the cotton.
“You just said–oh,” you stop short when you feel Jake’s fingers against your clit. The sensation makes you buck your hips up into him, him discovering the bundle of nerves without trying hard. He’s clearly happy at the wetness he finds. He rubs your folds in the same fashion, biting down on his bottom lip hard.
“You feel so good already. So perfect,” he whispers, taking hold of your lips again with his own while he swirls his fingers in and around your essence. He switches between teasing your clit and rubbing along your pussy, his movements lewd yet graceful. Only when he puts a finger inside of you do you gasp and look at him directly, your eyes clearly giving away your fear.
“What’s wrong, angel? Did I do something?” Concern floods his face, but he doesn’t take his hand away.
“I’ve never gone this far,” you confess, looking to your side to hide your embarrassment.
“Hey, look at me.” He turns your head to face him again, fingers laying under your chin softly. “We can stop now if you want. I don’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything you don’t want to do.”
His response makes your heart clench. Most guys, you’d imagine, would be pissed off or pleading with you to continue on, to do what they wanted and enjoy the moment. That was how Jongseong was, pouting the entire time after you told him to pump the brakes on your makeout sessions.
Somehow, with Jake, it feels right to continue. You suddenly have no anxiety clouding your thoughts or expectations weighing on your heart. You kiss his lips tenderly and shake your head. “No, I want this. I want you.”
A cheshire-cat grin spreads across his face before he goes in for another kiss. He runs his tongue along the inside of your mouth as his finger slides across your folds once again. He plunges it deep inside of your heat, your body adjusting to the new sensation with surprising ease.
You thrash lightly underneath him, matching the tempo of his finger with abandon. He slips another digit in, groaning at the feeling of your soft, gummy walls becoming accustomed to him. “You’re taking my fingers so well, angel. ‘S fucking incredible.”
You gasp and feel the fire from earlier heightening in intensity, spreading from your belly into the other seams of your body. It makes your toes curl and your hand press against one of the doors of Jungwon’s car, needing something to clutch onto while feeling yourself losing what’s left of your control.
“Jaeyun, I think I–”
“I know baby,” he says, pressing his lips to your forehead. “You’re going to feel so good in a second, I promise. Don’t be afraid.”
His thumb makes contact with your neglected clit, rubbing in rapid motions as he pumps his fingers faster in and out of you. You suddenly become overloaded with pleasure; its immensity is something you’ve never felt before. You feel it coat the back of your mouth and take what’s left of your rational senses, your body moving on its own accord as you ride out what’s remaining of your orgasm.
You blush furiously when you come back down to earth, giggling like a schoolgirl as Jake kisses your sweat-drenched cheek. “That was…amazing.”
Jake chuckles, a smirk painting his features. “You’re amazing.”
You tuck your face in your hands, embarrassed but still enraptured by what you just experienced. He pulls one hand away, taking it in his own, his expression suddenly shy. “So, I guess this is the part where I ask you on a proper date.”
You laugh and sit up, placing your panties back around your hips and adjusting your skirt. “I would hope so!”
Jungwon and Yeri choose that moment to run back into the car, their hair drenched but their bodies properly dressed once again. Jungwoon looks at the two of you in the backseat and grimaces. “Not in my car, man!”
Despite the warnings from your parents and the wine moms, you and Jake had become inseparable within a month’s time. It took many late-night impromptu meetings and secret rendezvous to keep your relationship private, but you had succeeded thus far. And it only made the moments you both shared that much more special.
Riki had kept your secret, keeping his eyes out for any prying townsfolk and covering for his cousin and you if need be. Yeri and Jungwon also cheered you on from the shadows, hoping one day you could be public like they were without criticism.
Sitting in the field near the lake, a picnic blanket set across the grass, you have your head in Jake’s lap while he absentmindedly turns strands of your hair into miniature braids. It’s a beautiful Wednesday afternoon, the two of you occupying the resounding forest with no outside influences.
“Have I told you lately how beautiful your hair is?” Jake asks, kissing your forehead before he takes another batch of strands in his hand. If he has to pick one of your best attributes, in his words, he’d say it was a tie between your lips and your hair, the two of them constantly making his heart race. You called him a liar, but as time revealed, he was nothing but honest with you every day, and not just about what turns him on.
Over time, you discovered his fears, his ticks, his aspirations past the small town you both found yourselves in. You admire his vulnerability, how open he is when sharing the thoughts that occupy his mind.
“At least three times already,” you tease, running your hand across his leg.
“It’s not bad to hear it a fourth time, right?” He plants another kiss to the crown of your head. He drops the braid he’s just made across your face, making you laugh.
“I’d rather hear how work went today,” you say, getting up to press your back to his chest, snuggling into him.
He shrugs, wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Not much to talk about. Working with roofs all day isn’t exactly exciting, angel.”
You know Jake doesn’t want to work at his dad’s construction company for the rest of his life. However, it provides stability, and that matters a lot to him. He knows what it did to his aunt when Riki’s father walked out early on in his cousin’s life, and he wouldn’t wish that lack of support on anyone.
“At least you’re not running a tutoring center and a daycare in the same church,” you joke, your tone anything but humorous. The brood you dealt with every day was completely unlike Riki. They were kids that were carbon copies of their parents, children that would one day become exactly like their absentminded fathers and speculatory mothers. It put a taste in your mouth you couldn’t stomach.
You fall into steady silence, the uptick in both of your nerves ebbing away the longer you hold each other. Sure, Jake hates roofing as much as you hate disciplining whining toddlers and helping apathetic tweens with mathematics, but it doesn’t matter at this moment.
All that does is each other, enjoying the midweek sunset and the sounds of the birds flying overhead.
“What would you do if you were somewhere else?” Jake asks into the crook of your neck.
You grin, imagining a world of possibilities. The question never came up before, not from him or anyone else. It opens up a plethora of choices in your mind, but you narrow them down quickly, knowing what your heart truly desires.
“I’d like to teach,” you answer. “Really teach, maybe at a university. Something like poetry.” You turn to look at him, a newfound fire in your eyes. “Yeah.”
Jake smiles back at you, moving stray strands of hair from your shoulder to rest his head there. “I think you’d be great at that.”
“What would you do?”
Jake ponders the question, going over it in the same way you were moments before. You see realization wash over his features, and it makes you smile. “I think I’d write. Not literature or anything, but songs maybe? Teach music in the meantime. Still have to make money somehow, y’know.”
You giggle and push him down on the picnic blanket, running your fingers through his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”
He nods, sharing your happiness. “Maybe a kid and a dog can fit somewhere in that plan.”
Chuckling, you raise one eyebrow. “As long as I’m not having a baby out of wedlock, that sounds perfect to me.”
He turns you both over, covering your body with his and kissing you intensely. The passion runs from his body to yours, your heartbeats matching in their strong beats against your chests. “Perfect,” he whispers, his lips meeting yours once again.
It may be too soon to call it love, but you know you’re tiptoeing that line, and you wouldn’t mind falling headfirst on the other side of it as long as Jake’s there waiting for you.
“Are you sure they don’t know I’m here?” Jake asks, hesitant to walk up the stairs to your bedroom.
“It’s fine! They’re at a seminar all weekend with Reverend Park and his son, I promise.” You kiss his lips before running up to your room. Still on the fence, you hear his tentative footsteps trudging behind you.
Another few months rolled by, and your parents had softened to the idea of Jake being around more often. He showed up with his parents to church every Sunday, even if you both snuck off to make out in the backwoods when nobody was paying attention.
He’d stick around for the deacon’s sessions with Akemi, brightening her spirits with his guitar and a couple of songs to replace the ones she missed during normal processions. It helped that she seemed to be getting better, slowly but surely, with treatment and daily prayer.
When you heard your father call Jake a “nice kid,” you knew they were turning a corner in their relationship that you wished for since the night Jake kissed you in Jungwon’s car.
Now, that doesn’t mean they would be happy with finding him in your bed on a Friday night, but you’ve broken enough rules at this point. What’s one more?
“You’re trying to get me killed,” Jake jokes as you rip his shirt from his body, discarding the article of clothing on your bedroom floor. You sit on your bed and marvel at the muscles on his chest and stomach, all of it yours to caress and kiss at any time.
“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll follow you to heaven,” you tease, pulling him closer to kiss his body. Each press of your lips to his skin makes him tremble, cursing quietly to himself at the feeling.
“With the way you’re touching me, I doubt either of us will make it there.”
You giggle and link his mouth to yours. You moan when his tongue hits the roof of your mouth.
The intentions you had for tonight definitely involved numerous bouts of kissing, but the way Jake’s making you feel will certainly end up with his face or fingers between your legs. And as good as that sounds, you don’t want him derailing you from completing your mission.
There had been so many moments of him giving you pleasure up to this point, you wondered how he had stayed so composed and content after without expecting anything in return.
So, tonight, you decided to give him a bit of satisfaction, even if you’re walking into such activities without any kind of road map. Yeri gave you a handful of tips, but doing it for real is another beast entirely.
“Jaeyun, wait,” you say, taking his face in between your hands.
He looks up at you with eager eyes, wondering why you pulled him away from your neck. “What is it?”
“I want to take care of you this time.” You say, hoping your expression gives off the confidence you’re trying to portray. “I’ve never done it before, but—“
“And you don’t have to, angel,” Jake says with a dopey, relaxed smile. What on Earth and heaven did you do to find a guy like him?
“Please,” you beg, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “I want to try.”
Jake’s conflicting feelings are evident in his eyes. Surely any man wants his girlfriend to go down on him with the same eagerness that you're giving him right now, but he doesn’t want you to feel obligated.
In his mind, pleasure isn’t about some sort of trade-off. He makes you feel good because he wants to, not because it’s some duty he has to fulfill and expects to be paid back for later.
But, you asked so nicely and your eyes shine up at him so beautifully. He feels his resolve crumble enough to concede and do what you want.
You begin to unbutton his pants, your fingers twitching not from fear but excitement. When you pull down his jeans fully and see the outline of his bulge in his briefs, your mouth falls open slightly at the size.
Could it fit in your mouth if it was that big?
Jake chuckles and takes your hand to press to the gaping material covering him. “It won’t bite.”
You look up at him and begin to stutter, unsure how to continue once you take off his underwear. “D-Do you want me to use my hands first?”
“Whatever feels right to you, angel. I trust you.” He rubs his thumb across your cheek, and it calms all the nerves that came to the surface.
It’s in those three words that you find the courage to pull the remaining article of clothing off of him, taking in the sight of his cock in all its glory.
You gulp hard, trailing your eyes from the tip to where it adjoins to the rest of him. You’ve never seen one up close before, and you feel like you’re invading his privacy as you stare at it for another long minute. But who can blame you?
“It’s all for you, baby,” Jake whispers. “Do whatever you want.”
You feel a sharp pang of heat at the center of your thighs, his words spurring you on. You spit into your hand, as Yeri instructed, and wrap your hand firmly around Jake’s cock. With an easy but deliberate pace, you look at Jake directly to see if you’re starting off on the right foot.
And boy were you.
Jake hisses at the feeling of your hand encasing him, loving the tightness of your fingers as they continue sliding up and down his dick. He had envisioned this many times in the solitude of his bedroom, images of you and your beautiful body writhing underneath him enough to get him off. But those nights were nothing compared to this.
“Are you ready for my mouth now?” You ask timidly. Jake wants to laugh at how innocent you sound, the words coming so naturally off of your tongue.
“Yes, angel, please,” he answers, wanting to caress you by the hair and guide you down to his awaiting, leaking cock.
You move closer until you're an inch away from his tip. Flattening your tongue to take it into your mouth, you keep watching Jake’s face for the right signals.
His mouth opens, a satisfied whine leaving his lips. You feel a wave of pride at the fact he’s enjoying it so much, egging you on further.
“Your mouth feels so perfect wrapped around me,” he confesses. He soaks in the sensation of your lips and teeth softly running over the veins of his cock, your head bobbing across his length skillfully. How can an innocent and dutiful daughter like you give such mind-blowing head?
He can’t ruminate on the answer long, releasing a guttural moan as he feels his tip hit the back of your throat, the gag that rumbles from you making his cock even more sensitive.
“Angel, I’m gonna come soon,” Jake warns. “If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, let me know now.”
You look up through your lashes at him as you continue sucking on him with fierce passion, swirling your tongue across his tip.
His hand is wrapped firmly in your hair now, fucking your face as softly as he can without forcing anymore of himself down your throat. When you take a hand to cup his balls, softly kneading them between your fingers, he’s done for.
He whines pathetically as his seed shoots inside your mouth. The taste isn’t particularly pleasing, but you milk it for what it’s worth to watch him fall apart so perfectly under your attention.
The orgasm rocks through him with an unshakeable amount of pleasure, his body completely helpless as he continues to spurt into your mouth. He can only hiss and whine as you continue to touch him, letting him come down fully and taking all of him without complaint.
Jake breathes in deeply when he gains clarity again, taking you in his arms and shoving his tongue deep in your mouth. “That was probably the best blowjob I’ve ever gotten,” he states, running his fingers over your face with adoration.
You scoff and roll your eyes, his words making you shy. “I doubt it, seeing as that was my first one.”
“It was!” Jake puts a hand on his heart. “Swear to the savior himself.” Before you can rebut, Jake takes your legs in his hands and moves you to the edge of the bed.
You wake up to the hard knocks at your bedroom door, the morning sun peeking out of your window to prove the previous night has long gone.
“Honey? What did we say about locked doors in this house?”
Your father’s booming voice makes you jump up from bed, smacking Jake hard on the shoulder and chest to wake him up.
“We had an odd feeling at the hotel, so we came home early,” your mother says as you shake Jake from his sleep.
“Ow, what the fuck,” Jake grunts, his voice not quiet enough to go unnoticed. You curse yourself and the reality in front of what’s about to happen, knowing full well your parents heard him on the other side of the door.
“Sweetie, who’s in there with you?” Your mother’s shrill but concerned tone makes you cringe. Jake’s eyes bulge in response, quickly leaping from the mattress to pull on his clothes in haste.
Just when you throw your dress from last night over your head and Jake buttons up his pants, your father slams open the door with his shoulder. Your parents gasp and yell at the sight before them, the man they began to grow comfortable with in a compromising position with their only daughter and precious child.
“What in God’s name is he doing here?” Your father asks no-one in particular, stomping towards Jake’s shirtless figure and yanking him by the neck.
“Daddy, stop!” You plead, scratching and clawing at his frame to pull him off of your lover.
Your mother begins blubbering, teary-eyed before you. “Oh honey, what did he do to you?”
“Nothing,” you scream. “Please leave him alone and let us be.”
“I told you to stay away from him.” Your father stares you down, eyes blazing with fury. “Not only did you betray me, but you betrayed the sanctity of your purity. It’s a disgrace.”
Jake coughs, your father’s hands tightening around his neck. “The only disgrace is the two of you holding her back, like she’s some weak bird in a cage,” he croaks. “She can make her own decisions.”
“You stay silent, you insolent pest,” your father growls, yanking Jake out of your room and down the stairs. By the time you and your mother make it out to the bottom step, your father has thrown Jake out and onto the porch.
“Stay away from my daughter, or you’ll have another reason to pray you don’t end up burning in hell.”
“Stop it!” You step in between your father and Jake, the latter putting on what’s left of his clothes. People begin to hover too close to your family home, suddenly entrenched in the scene playing out before them.
Jake kisses your forehead and walks away in the direction of his parked bike, unsure what else he can do unless he wants to truly end up six feet under.
Your father grabs you by the upper arm and pulls you in the direction of your porch, but you resist with all your might. “You can’t make me go back in there.”
“I am your father and you will listen to me,” he grunts, holding on tight.
“Daddy, I love him!” You scream as you yank your arm away from your father, your inner strength giving way. “If you can’t accept that, I guess I’ll just have to burn hell with him. Better than wasting another second here.”
You run toward Jake’s bike and sit behind him, cinching your arms around his waist. He smiles to himself, feeling the press of your chest to his back as he puts his helmet over his head. “Are you sure about this, angel?”
You nod furiously, not bothering to look back at your red-faced family. “More than I’ve ever been.”
All you focus on is his motorcycle rumbling to life before you speed away. Your hair blows in the wind as you both escape the horrified stares of the local vipers.
You end up at a motel on the other side of town, far away from the scandal that’s surely rocking your small community by now. The deacon’s daughter running away with the bad boy next door? What a tragedy!
You run inside to miss the upcoming rain, both of you shivering from the barrage of pellets that did land on your skin. You settle onto the mattress as Jake drops the small amount of belongings he had in his possession on the dresser.
He turns to you with quiet concern, arms splayed out on the furniture as he looks at you, searching your face for any lingering doubt. “No regrets?”
You shake your head, exhausted but glad to be out of that house. “None at all.”
He breathes out a sigh of relief and sits down beside you on the bed, rubbing your thigh with his fingers. “I’m sorry.”
Your brows knit together, confusion pouring over you. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers. “You have nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing to you.”
You feel tears build at your eye ducts, your voice suddenly growing thick when you recall the scene from an hour ago. “I’m sorry my father was so horrible to you.”
“Hush, it’s okay,” he puts his other hand on your face. He kisses your lips tenderly and gracefully. How did nobody else but you see he possessed the most kind nature of anyone you’ve ever known?
Jake moves his head, his lips curving into the smile that always takes your common sense away. “I love you too, by the way.”
Your confession from earlier hits you like a heavy rock, your eyes going wide and your face turning pale. “That wasn’t the way I wanted to say it.”
“Then say it now,” Jake urges, your face resting gently between his fingers.
There’s no fear or pressure when the three words leave your lips, only the feeling of a weight lifting off of your chest. “I love you, Sim Jaeyun. I love you with my whole heart.”
His face lights up, the words seeming to set aglow something deep within him. The only right reaction seems to be in the form of his lips attaching to yours in a passionate kiss, your shared love creating a beautiful path forward for the both of you.
He whispers his next words so lightly, you almost assume the statement is a figment of your imagination. “Marry me.”
You feel your face contort into a mixture of disbelief and elation, needing to hear him say it again for it to truly resonate. “What?”
“Marry me,” he repeats, his smile stretching across his face. “Marry me now, or in three months from now, or whenever you want. Just say you will.”
You exhale a breath of astonishment, unsure if he knows how much you want to say yes, to make this as real as it sounds on his lips. He leaves your side with a kiss to your temple to grab something from his jacket.
He comes back in record time, standing in front of you and twiddling the black box in both of his hands with anxious fingers. “I brought it with me to your house last night, I just didn’t know how to ask then. But I do now.”
Like in all the stories you’ve read and movies you’ve seen in your lifetime, he sinks down onto one knee before you. You place a hand over your mouth as he opens the box, a ring with an opal-shaped diamond cushioned in the center.
“Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” Those words on his lips, visibly shaken from his own question, make a thousand butterflies flutter inside your chest.
Months ago, if you knew then you would end up here, from the edge of the sidewalk to now, you would not change a single moment. The world had been so gray before, you didn’t know what it was like to step in the sun until he came into your life. What other answer is there?
“Yes, yes, yes,” you respond, tears flooding your eyes as he shakily places the ring on your finger. It fits just right, the stone at the center sparkling in the darkness of the motel room.
You kiss Jake’s lips with all the force your body possesses, certain there’s no better future than right beside him.
The feeling of the gold band around your finger makes Jake shudder as it touches his cock. Your body is nestled perfectly on top of his as you take what you can’t put in your mouth between your fingers.
He laps up your essence with his tongue, ecstatic to have his face covered in your juices and smothered if need be by your wet cunt. If people think wedding nights are magical, engagement nights have to be a step up.
“Fuck, Jaeyun, yes,” you roll your hips into his awaiting mouth, his tongue available for you to lay your slit onto. The expletive leaves your mouth like honey, the feeling fitting for such a dirty word.
He knows exactly how to make you fall apart and be put back together, and the thought of doing this for the rest of your life makes you want to cry again from the pure happiness inside your core.
Jake takes his lips off of your pussy and sits up. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he takes you into his lap on the bed and kisses you fiercely. You taste yourself on his tongue as he skillfully takes your breath away with his lips. When you part, he says, “Angel, I know we said we’d wait, but I don’t know how much longer I can handle not being inside of you.”
You whimper at his words and suddenly rock your center into the tip of his cock, making him groan in the process. “I mean—we’re just starting early, right?”
Jake releases a joyous laugh and kisses you hungrily, his face in a constant state of ecstasy since you said “yes” hours ago. “Right.”
The anticipation makes you even wetter, crawling to the head of the bed as Jake grabs a condom from the bedside table. If there was one thing he had promised, he swore he wouldn’t get you pregnant. Not yet, anyway.
He rolls the rubber over his cock before joining you on the bed, lining up perfectly with your center. He rubs his tip against your folds, biting his lip at how easily it gets coated in your essence. “Ready?”
You nod eagerly, a smirk filling the entire bottom half of your face.
He pushes the tip in, the pressure a foreign feeling you had never experienced before. It took time and practice to get used to the size of his fingers, but this is another level of fullness that takes your breath away.
Once Jake’s partially inside and gives you a moment to adjust, he asks, “Can I move?”
You nod your head, holding onto his shoulders for support as he begins to thrust inside of you. He loves to see his cock disappearing between your legs, your body eagerly taking him in and stretching itself out to accommodate him. He loves the way you whimper at the movement of his hips and the pleasure you’re receiving.
Better yet, he loves you. He loves all of you, from the nonsensical words you speak in your sleep to the wrinkle between your eyebrows when you get mad. You’re all his, and he’s grateful to be the only one you call yours.
“We may never leave this motel,” Jake says, his words breathy as he continues moving his hips. “I could stay inside of you for the rest of my life, angel.”
“I love you so much,” you say, inching your hand between your bodies to roll your clit between your fingers.
“I love you,” Jake says. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you like he wants to pour all of his emotions from his being into your soul, just so you know how deep his love for you goes.
It’s all so overwhelmingly beautiful, you feel the swell of your release cresting over you like a tidal wave. “Baby, I’m gonna come,” you whisper, your mouth open wide from the moans and cries you cannot suppress.
Jake groans and slams his hips into you harder, filling you to the hilt repeatedly. “Come, angel. Come for me.”
You cry out as the orgasm takes hold of your body, your fingers working on their own accord on your clit as you fall off the edge.
Jake stills not a second later, releasing into the condom and taking the last remnants of his energy to thrust inside of you a few more times.
He pulls out and throws the rubber in a nearby trash can. His sweaty body clings to yours, hands rubbing up and down your arm tenderly as he kisses the curve of your shoulder.
You see the flash of your ring in the glow of the motel’s neon sign, and you think about how the night could not have gone any better.
Jake may be a bit reckless and not what you initially imagined for your future, but now that you have him, you wouldn’t give him up for anything. All the parts of you that stayed buried for so long have resurfaced because of him, and you could not be more grateful.
With your left hand a touch heavier than it was some hours ago, you fall asleep to the sound of the rain hitting the window and Jake’s rising and falling chest.
You walk out of your mother’s house, happy to have made a visit with her before she ran off to do her morning errands.
What you’re not pleased to encounter is the same crowd of women huddled with their homemade fans and cups of lemonade. They weren’t there when you arrived a few hours ago. Of course they show up when you have no chance of escaping them, like the vultures they are.
“Mrs. Sim,” Mrs. Choi says, her tone entirely made of stone with little warmth. “Pleasure to see you.”
Your new surname gives you indescribable amounts of happiness. It took your parents some time to get used to, but eventually, they realized you put your heart in the right place. Your father took his sweet time getting there, begrudgingly admitting a short time ago Jake is a very acceptable son-in-law, the turnaround of his perception of your husband complete.
You give the crotchety ringleader a fake smile and attempt to walk away, but Mrs. Lee interjects. “How’s your mister doing working at the church now?”
“Great,” you say, genuinely happy to talk about a topic you care for. “Jaeyun loves the kids. Little Yuna might actually be a guitar prodigy from what he’s told me.”
They all coo, practically synchronized in their sips of lemonade and fan flurries.
“Soon enough you’ll have one of your own, I’m sure,” Mrs. Choi remarks with sarcasm, her red-lipstick-stained front teeth on full display.
“Not too soon now,” Jake suddenly says, walking up the pathway to your mother’s house and taking you in by the waist. “My wife has to finish her Masters first. How else is she gonna start teaching at the community college?”
My wife. No matter how long it’s been since you officially got married in your church, that day a year ago forever ingrained in your memory, it still warms you to the bones hearing those words leave Jake’s lips.
The women all express signs of agreement, some nodding while others hum.
“We better get back home now, but you ladies have a nice day!” Jake bids them goodbye and walks you both down the stairs with his hand on the small of your back. Even if he were to be more than the perfect gentleman in front of them, they would still linger around with pesky eyes and constantly moving lips.
“They’re still betting we’re gonna crash and burn, aren’t they?” Jake whispers, teasing you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
You shake your head. You fall more in love with him every day that passes, no matter what the people around you do or don’t see. They may have their opinions, but it won’t shake the foundation you’ve built. “Well, they’re sure to be disappointed if I have anything to say about it.”
Jake’s eyes widen, his expression humorous yet surprised. “Easy, angel. Don’t want to have to tear my wife off of a nosy wine mom.”
Your heart aches at his words, him fully aware of what two of them in particular do to you. “I love you.”
Jake grins, inching his face closer to yours. “I’d love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but what would everyone say?” He asks with a mock face of horror.
You shrug without much care, grinning. “Someone once told me ‘fuck everyone else.’ And right now I couldn’t agree more.”
Jake laughs before he places a gentle kiss to your lips, the sun radiating off of him in waves as he pulls you closer.
No matter what anyone in your small town has to say, your choices are yours; you’re perfectly happy with how your life has turned out whether they think so too or not. And you will always choose Sim Jaeyun, now and forever.
summary: navigating married life isn't easy. when an argument with your husband results in him leaving the apartment, you fear the worst. but jake wants the best for you. and he can't stay angry, not even for one night.
pairing: husband!jake x f!reader
word count: 1.8k
ꨄ︎: i received an anonymous request asking for husband jake making up w/ reader after an argument, and this is my humble entry. the women yearn for working man jake. i yearn for working man jake. he just loves her guys :( i hope this satisfies your craving, nonny. enjoy, and happy reading! xo
content: kissing, making out, suggestive, sex implied but not described, established relationship, marriage, mentions of divorce, arguing, angst, comfort, fluff, jake literally just wants the best for her like can't punish a guy for trying
the air is still—colder in the apartment than it typically is.
the argument still echoes off the walls. the pain lingers in your chest. you try to tune it out, but it’s to no avail. scrolling through your phone isn’t distracting enough, and turning on the small tv in your living room will never be loud enough, despite the deafening volume of whatever news channel drifts through the speakers.
“more hours? i feel like i haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“i’m sorry,” jake said coldly. he padded into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of water and popping the cap off. “i have to. we need the money.”
you frowned. “it’s lonely. i wake up, and you’re gone. i go to sleep, and you’re still gone. it feels like i’m living alone half the time. if it weren’t for your clothes, i’d think i really am alone.”
“then, how do you suppose we get the money?” he took a leftover slice of cold pizza and shoved a bite into his mouth. he didn’t bother to grab a plate or sit down at the barstool. just leaned against the counter. “you don’t work, remember?”
“how is that my fault?” you protested, tears brimming at your waterline. he knew you’d been trying for months, saving every last dime you had left before they laid you off. “i’ve tried, i’ve tried so many times, and nobody wants me.”
you sniffed, “now it feels like you don’t, either.”
“what am i supposed to do? quit? cut my hours and let us fall on our asses in the street with nothing?” he raised his voice, losing his temper as the small piece of crust left in his hand reduced to mush. “we can’t afford that! if i don’t do this, we don’t get to live.”
“we just got married, and i already feel divorced, jake! that can’t be the only way!”
“that’s real nice,” he muttered under his breath and slammed the half-empty bottle onto the counter.
“i’m sorry?”
“the same wedding we spent fucking everything on?” he laughed. “you wanted the wedding, and you wanted the honeymoon. and you got them, so now you have to lie in that bed.”
“you’re an asshole,” you whispered, voice fraying at the edges. your hands trembled in your lap; fingers toyed with your wedding ring.
“maybe you shouldn’t have married me, then.”
“first thing we’ve agreed on all night!”
“great, then i don’t have to stay here,” he mumbled before grabbing his keys and bolting out the door, slamming it behind him.
the apartment isn’t large. it’s modern, has updated appliances, and a nice view of the city. you could afford it before the wedding. before you were laid off and confined to the rooms alone.
the television blaring doesn’t make it less quiet. you’re not watching it, anyway. you’re simply staring. it’s something for your eyes to focus on while your thoughts slip away. endlessly repeat the only ten minutes you’ve seen your husband for today.
the clock ticks behind you. 9:25; he’s been gone for over an hour. he hasn’t texted. he hasn’t called. the crumbs from his pizza and the near-empty bottle of water still sit on the countertop. the cap is upside down beside them, untouched.
the bottle crinkles; you flinch.
a tear runs down your cheek. it feels wet, hot, like steam could rise from it if it were cold enough in the living room. the moon shines into the room from outside the window, peaking out from the edge of a skyscraper a mile or two away. the city bustles outside, despite your world feeling halted in place, like something out of the twilight zone.
an inescapable loop of what your conscious mind assumes are the last minutes of your marriage.
torn to shreds only one month in.
your toes shift on the floor, trying to find a comfortable place and failing. the hardwood is punishingly cold, but your body is already too numb to care. your thumb keeps mindlessly toying with the ring on your finger, your initials engraved on the inside, followed by the word forever. you shiver.
the front door clicks, and your head snaps around. jake steps inside, his every move tentative. his face, from what you can make of it, is softened. eyes glazed over from what looks like crying. and they look tired; exhausted, bags forming beneath them.
your eyes follow him until he’s standing in front of the empty space on the sofa. he sits, still wordless.
you’ve been so focused on his face that you haven’t noticed the small bouquet of roses in his hand. he gently presses it into your hold, his fingers visibly trembling around the clear plastic sleeve. another tear falls down your face; your lip quivers.
“i’m sorry,” he whispers.
your heart pulses in your chest. “i don’t want a divorce,” you cry, shaking your head. “i didn’t mean that, jake.” your hand shakes, paired with an uneven breath; your rambling voice isn’t any steadier. “i don’t want that.”
your fingers can barely grasp the bouquet. your vision blurs with fresh tears. you can only make out the outline of his face in the dim light—only the small bulb over the kitchen island, the gentle moonlight, and the occasional flash from the television. jake doesn’t have to see to know you’re frantic; he feels it.
“c’mere.”
he takes the flowers and places them onto the coffee table while his arm pulls you into him. you bury your face in his shoulder, arms locked around his midsection. his suit jacket is cold from the frosty air outside, but you still feel warmer. you just want to feel him, to know he’s here.
“we’re not getting divorced, baby,” he whispers into your hair, and you nod, tears dripping onto his shirt collar. “we’ll figure it out, okay? together.”
you nod again.
he pulls back and rubs the pad of his thumb over your cheek, still burning red with leftover tears. he leans forward to catch your lips, and you reciprocate, fingers curling into his work blazer as if he’ll really slip away if they don’t.
it’s gentle at first, an apology for ever making you think that you aren’t the reason his world turns. his thumb still brushes along your cheek as he kisses you, his fingers pressing into the back of your head.
a few strands of his partly-gelled hair fall between your faces. you laugh as it catches in your eyelashes, at the ridiculous nature of it. neither of you seems to mind. you just brush it away with a finger.
the static noise of the television melts slowly back into soft voices—incoherent mumbling about the city that doesn’t concern you. you don’t need it to dull the ache in your chest anymore, not when it has already left.
jake pulls you into his lap, sitting back to let you adjust. “you’re my favorite person in the world,” he murmurs against your lips; your fingers tug firmer at his collar. “the last thing i’d ever want is to lose this.”
you smile.
“i do everything for you, y’know?” his mouth presses against the column of your throat, fingertips graze along the sheer pink fabric of the nightgown he bought for you earlier this year. “for us.” your stomach flutters; he feels it beneath his palm.
“just want us to have a good life.”
you take his glasses by the frames and pull them off, setting them on the coffee table just beside the bouquet. “we do,” you press a kiss to the tip of his nose, then the corner of his plush lips. slightly chapped from the cold. “if we moved tomorrow, i’d still be happy. i just want you, jake. i’d take you any day over some stupid apartment.”
the water bottle crinkles again on the counter. jake chuckles and pulls you down again, letting your body melt against his. his palm slides to your waist, lingering for a beat until it slips lower and kneads the swell of your ass. his teeth catch your bottom lip; he watches it snap back into place and hums as he reconnects your mouths.
your hips roll into his unconsciously. you don’t really notice, not until a moan slips from his mouth and into yours. the noise echoes in your head, and your body shivers.
he takes your left hand into his and laces your fingers together beside your head; you don’t register his knuckle propping one up until his lips are leaving yours, and your eyes follow their path.
he kisses the finger decorated with your wedding band.
the same one he spent months saving to buy, insisting that you deserved nothing less. the same one you spotted once, and he made it his mission to give to you. the same one he slipped onto your finger as he vowed to love you forever. and he does—so much that he can’t let you live anywhere but here, until he can afford better.
your body sighs.
you’ve never loved anyone the way you love him.
“i’ll be better for you,” he whispers like a promise. “i won’t ever let you feel like that again.” he kisses a path from your inner wrist up to your shoulder; he can still smell the faint aroma of your body wash on your skin from your shower. “so perfect,” he mumbles into the bubblegum pink chiffon.
he moves to the soft skin just below your jaw, then upward, again until he’s hovering barely an inch away, breath fanning your lips. his eyes never leave yours. not even for a second. you almost forget that you’re still in the living room with the curtains wide open.
you just don’t care.
“i love you,” as his thumb brushes along the wedding ring.
you smile, eyes flitting down to the matching silver ring on his finger, engraved with the same message inside.
“i love you, too.”
his mouth envelopes yours, slower this time. deeper. your fingers curl into his hair as his thumb keeps toying with the ring, the symbol of the love he promised you and refuses to let up, despite the argument. despite how difficult marriage is to navigate. nobody said being newlyweds was easy—but jake intends to never let things come to this again. he swore to love you through everything, not to make you feel otherwise.
he’ll remind you—when the television falls silent, and he carries you into the bedroom, treats every last inch of your body like the most precious thing in the world. touches your skin with the reverence he had on your wedding night. slips the chiffon off and devotes himself to you all over again. he won’t ever let you feel lonely or forget how loved you are again.
his lips kiss the promise into your skin like an oath.
“my wife,” your husband murmurs, mouth stretching into a smile so wide that you can hear it in his voice.
“always,” you whisper back.
and that’s the best thing you’ve agreed on all night.
