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CASUAL ❤︎ sim jaeyun
synopsis . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. jake is your brother’s best friend, also… jake painfully wants you.
ʚɞ pairing non-idol!jake x female!reader - content smau // brother’s bsf trope // fluff // crack // sunghoon is reader’s brother
part 1 | part 2
OFFLINE ! SJY
texts with your chronically offline himbo boyfriend jake
sim jaeyun x gn reader
WASSUP STINKASSSSSSS HAIII >< this fic came to me in a vision during a nap 🤍 bless
if u liked this check out my ongoing heeseung smau swing my way ! likes & reblogs are appreciated!! <3
m.list
tags: @sunooluuvr @niyzu @secretvivii @reikaxslvr @ddeonutt @wonieskies @sunghoonzzzz @lov3lyaaru @lezleeferguson-120 @wensurr @steddie-steddie @ilovhoonie @wonnieeluvvr @thatfeelingwhenn @aloveminsalade @sonnofsonder @jaesvoid @dociea @wonsvisuals @cheriinoo
main taglist is open!
GOLDEN BOY!
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.
fin.
-
TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @naurwayyyyy @somuchdard @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @annybah @zzhengyu @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @bloomiize @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4ss @starniras @wonuziex
innocent reader x freaky jake por favor
NO I MEANT-
your childhood best friend is persistent. like. wayyyy too persistent.
innocent reader x childhood bsf-ish jake! jay is readers bro! innocent until later on.. this is lowkey funny bc i am never serious
perms!
@nikiswifiee @ancnymcnzjy @ja4hyvn @17ericas @hoonieyun @jellyluv4eva @wheretheheckis-ssaki @hyukabeanie @gxwesn @tojiworshipper @wonuziex @jaerisdiction @luhvletters @hoon2f4ded @enhanoa @ikeu05 @tokkisluv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @p--j--s--j
Love, Lies, and Sim Jake
심재윤 x reader - enhypen campus series
You were the quiet girl with the not-so-quiet crush on Jake Sim—campus heartbreaker, smooth talker, and everything you should’ve stayed away from. But when a bet turns your name into a game, the rules change fast. He didn’t expect to fall for you… and you didn’t expect to find out. Now it’s your move—and this time, you’re not playing nice.
wc. 16.4k
a/n. This took me so long istg but lwk wanted then to be endgame @sheseung
masterlist | req open
It wasn’t supposed to be obvious. You were careful—or at least you thought you were.
Sure, maybe you stared a little too long when Jake walked into class late, hair still damp from a rushed shower, backpack half-zipped like he couldn’t be bothered. Maybe you laughed a little too loud when he made a joke, even if it wasn’t that funny. Maybe your friends caught you scrolling through his Instagram more times than you could count—but you had never said it out loud.
But somehow… everybody knew.
It started small. You remember the moment it all began to slip. One afternoon in the library, your best friend nudged your arm and whispered, “You’re staring again,” followed by the most annoying smirk you’d ever seen. You blinked, cheeks warming, then looked away quickly as Jake leaned back in his chair, stretching in that way he had to know showed off his arms.
“It’s not like that,” you’d mumbled. Lie. Straight lie. But it was your go-to line.
Then came the whispers. The way people started looking at you just a little differently whenever Jake was around. In the dining hall, one of his teammates nudged him and said something under his breath, both of them turning your way right after. You pretended not to notice. But you felt it—the heat in your face, the tightening in your stomach. You hated it.
It was like high school all over again. Like a crush you couldn’t shake, no matter how much you tried to play it cool.
And the worst part? Jake noticed.
He started looking at you a little longer in the hallways. Smirking when you’d pass by. Saying “hey” like he hadn’t ignored you for two semesters straight. You weren’t sure if he was just being polite—or playing with you. Still, every time your name left his lips, something fluttered in your chest and you hated that you let it.
Then, one night at a party, it all came out.
You were standing by the kitchen, holding a red solo cup you barely sipped from, when you heard it—your name. Jake’s voice.
“She’s cute,” he said casually, too casually, and the room seemed to go quieter around you. “And I’m pretty sure she’s into me.”
Laughter. Someone said, “Bro, everyone knows she is.”
Another voice chimed in, “You’re the first thing on her mind when she walks into class.”
You felt the heat rush to your cheeks as your stomach flipped.
They were talking about you like you were an object, like your feelings didn’t matter.
You tried to shrink back into the corner of the room, hoping no one noticed your face burning hotter by the second. But Jake didn’t miss a beat.
He didn’t stop them. Didn’t correct them. Didn’t even seem surprised.
You were supposed to be doing your sociology reading. That was the whole plan. Laptop open, textbook to the side, highlighter in hand—every prop perfectly in place. But instead of notes, your screen was filled with him.
Jake Sim’s Instagram page.
His latest post? A blurry mirror selfie at the gym, captioned something dumb like “light work.” His abs were obnoxiously sharp, his hair pushed back by a sweatband, and there was a cocky little smirk tugging at the edge of his lips like he knew exactly what he was doing. You didn’t even like gym pics—and yet there you were, zooming in like a creep and biting your lip like an idiot.
You were halfway through stalking his tagged photos when Yuna burst into your room.
“Oh my god,” she said, before even setting her bag down. “Are you stalking him again?” You jumped, slamming your laptop shut like it was something illegal. “No.” She raised a brow. “You literally jumped like I caught you watching illegal shit.”
“I was doing research,” you muttered, trying to sound convincing.
“Research on what? His jawline?” Yuna flopped onto your bed, grinning. “Girl, you need help.”
You groaned and hid your face in your hands. “I know. It’s so bad. I can’t stop.”
“Yeah, no kidding. This is like… phase five of a full-blown Jake Sim spiral.” You peeked at her through your fingers. “Do you think he knows?” Yuna blinked at you. “Girl. Everyone knows.” You groaned again, louder this time, flopping back in your chair with a dramatic sigh. “I’m so pathetic.”
“Not pathetic,” Yuna said sweetly. “Just tragically whipped.” She laughed and tossed a pillow at you, and you couldn’t help but smile through the embarrassment. Because yeah—you were absolutely whipped.
And the worst part? You hadn’t even had a real conversation with him yet.
Yuna stayed sprawled on your bed, scrolling through her phone while you reopened your laptop—this time pretending you were actually going to study, even though your fingers hovered dangerously close to Jake’s profile again.
“I swear, he’s getting hotter by the day,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to her.
“Don’t do it,” Yuna warned without even looking up. “Don’t go back to his highlights. You already watched his Europe trip twice last night.”
“I just like the aesthetic,” you defended weakly.
“You like his face.”
You sighed, resting your chin in your palm, eyes drifting back to his latest Story. Just a casual boomerang of him walking into a party, surrounded by people, drink in hand, that same effortless confidence radiating off of him. He looked like he belonged there—like the world bent to him just slightly wherever he went.
Meanwhile, you couldn’t even bend your willpower long enough to not stalk him for one damn night.
“He’s at that rooftop bar again,” you murmured. “That one near campus.”
Yuna glanced at your screen. “With the LED lights and overpriced drinks? Ugh. Of course he is. He’s always out. Does he even do homework?”
“He’s passing econ somehow.”
“Probably because he flirts with the TA.”
You snorted. “I wouldn’t even be mad.”
Yuna tossed her phone aside and sat up. “Okay, real question. What are you actually gonna do about this?”
“Do?”
“Yes, do. You’ve been drooling over him for months. Either shoot your shot or block his page and join a monastery. This in-between spiral is destroying you.”
You hesitated. The idea of talking to Jake—really talking to him—made your heart race in a way that was more panic than excitement. He was just so… untouchable. Like a poster boy for bad decisions wrapped in designer cologne and half-smiles. And you were just—you.
“I don’t even think he knows my name,” you said quietly.
Yuna gave you a look. “Oh, he knows.”
You blinked. “What?”
She just smirked, grabbing her bag. “I’m gonna leave that there. You think about it.”
And with that, she disappeared out the door, leaving your heart racing in the quiet. Because if Jake did know your name… what did that mean?
You sat frozen for a solid thirty seconds after Yuna left, her last words echoing in your head like a fire alarm.
“He knows.”
She had to be messing with you, right? Yuna loved a good dramatic exit. She lived for chaos. There was no way Jake Sim—resident heartbreaker, campus lenend, the guy with a rotation of girls longer than your Spotify playlist—actually knew who you were.
…Right?
You glanced back at your laptop. His story was still up.
Tap.
Next slide—him laughing at something, dimples on full display, head tilted back like life was just that easy for him. You paused on it, your stomach twisting in that way it always did when you saw him smile. It was gross. You hated how much you liked it.
You shut the laptop again. This was getting out of hand.
Grabbing your phone, you opened your group chat with Yuna and your other two friends.
You:
i hate you why would u say that
Yuna:
what did i do NOW
You:
“he knows” ??? why would u say that and then LEAVE like some cryptic little drama gremlin
Kazuha:
HELP what’d she do
Minju:
this is about jake isn’t it
Yuna:
ok first of all. i am a drama gremlin. second of all. i didn’t lie.
You:
YUNA.
Yuna:
look he asked about you once okay?? don’t freak out
You stared at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, heart thudding so loud you almost didn’t hear the buzz of another message.
You:
he what.
Yuna:
like two weeks ago. after class. he was talking to beomgyu and i walked up and he was like “hey that girl you always hang with, she’s in my stats class right?”
and i said yeah. and he nodded.
that’s it.
Minju:
girl that’s not nothing
Kazuha:
he definitely knows. also why do i feel like he’s been looking at her lately???
You:
guys stop
i’m sweating wtf
this is too much
You dropped your phone on the bed and covered your face with your hands again, half-screaming into your palms. This couldn’t be real. Jake noticed you? He remembered you existed?
You thought about the times he held your gaze a second too long in class, the lazy way he said “hey” when passing you on campus, the smirk you always thought was meant for someone else.
You didn’t want to get your hopes up. That was dangerous. That was how people got hurt. But still…
Just maybe…
This crush wasn’t as one-sided as you thought.
Jake leaned back against the bench, legs stretched out and sunglasses pushed up into his hair as the late afternoon sun filtered through the trees. The quad buzzed with weekend energy—students lounging on the grass, music playing from someone’s speaker, that kind of lazy chaos that only ever happened when no one felt like doing real work.
Jay sat beside him, twirling a straw around in his iced coffee, eyes scanning the crowd like he was picking out a movie to watch.
“You know what I was thinking?” Jay said suddenly, eyes still tracking something in the distance.
Jake raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a terrifying sentence.”
Jay smirked. “We’ve never been in a real relationship. Like ever.”
Jake scoffed. “And your point?”
“My point is,” Jay said, sitting up, “we should see who can actually do it. Lock in. Longest relationship wins.”
Jake blinked, amused. “That’s the dumbest bet you’ve ever made—and you once bet Beomgyu fifty bucks you could throw a slice of pizza on the dorm ceiling and make it stick.”
“It did stick,” Jay pointed out.
“Yeah, and the RA made you clean it off.”
Sunghoon, who’d been quietly watching some random soccer game in the distance, sighed like he was already regretting his life choices. “This is so stupid. Why would you guys want to date someone just for the sake of it?”
“Because we suck at it,” Jay shrugged. “We’re trash at commitment. Might as well make it fun.”
Jake tilted his head, thinking for a second. “So what, we just pick someone and… date them?”
“Exactly,” Jay grinned. “No hookups, no games. Real dating. See who lasts longer.”
Sunghoon rolled his eyes. “You guys are hopeless. Seriously.”
Jake was about to respond when Sunghoon suddenly nodded toward a group of girls laughing across the lawn.
“What about her?” he said, jerking his chin in that direction.
Jake followed his gaze—and immediately shook his head, a tight, amused smile tugging at his lips. “Nah. Heeseung would kill me.”
Jay raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press it. Sunghoon just shrugged like it wasn’t his problem.
Jake leaned back again, lips pressing into a thin line. His thoughts drifted, uninvited, to you.
He didn’t know why, but your name floated to the surface, soft and unspoken. He pictured your face for a split second—how you always seemed to be laughing with that same small circle of friends, always just there on the edge of his world.
He said nothing.
Instead, Jake pushed himself off the bench, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans.
“Where you going?” Jay asked, glancing up.
Jake just smirked and threw a lazy wave over his shoulder.
“Nowhere. Just remembered something.”
Jake shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked off, head down just enough to avoid the glare of the sun but not enough to miss the way people turned to greet him as he passed. He gave the usual half-smile, a couple nods, but didn’t stop.
He wasn’t sure where he was going. He just didn’t feel like sitting there talking about bets and fake relationships when his mind was suddenly, annoyingly, stuck on you.
Not in a romantic way—God, no. Jake Sim didn’t catch feelings like that. Especially not for girls he barely talked to. That wasn’t how he operated. That wasn’t how this worked.
You weren’t the hottest girl on campus or the loudest or the one constantly throwing yourself into his orbit. If anything, you stayed out of it. And yet… you’d started showing up in his peripheral vision more often than he liked to admit.
Every time you passed by him in class, you did that little thing—tucking your hair behind your ear, eyes flicking to him for half a second before you looked away like you’d been caught doing something wrong. You weren’t subtle. And Jake wasn’t stupid. He’d noticed.
It was kind of… cute.
He kicked a rock off the sidewalk, watching it bounce onto the grass.
He didn’t know why you popped into his head when Sunghoon pointed out that girl. Maybe it was because you felt like the opposite of a challenge—someone easy to talk to, someone safe. Not messy. Not loud. Not tied up in anyone else’s drama.
And maybe, he thought, that wouldn’t be such a bad way to win a bet.
He stopped walking.
But then again… this was stupid. It was Jay’s idea. It wasn’t that deep. And you? You were just a thought. A maybe. An option.
Nothing more.
Jake smirked to himself and kept walking, brushing the idea off like it was dust on his sleeve.
No feelings. No strings.
Just a game.
Jake didn’t think about it again—at least, that’s what he told himself.
The next day, he walked into stats like he always did: five minutes late, iced americano in one hand, phone in the other, no apology in sight. He dropped into his seat near the back, legs stretched out under the desk, and immediately tuned out the professor’s monotone voice.
But then he saw you.
You were in your usual spot, two rows ahead and just slightly to the right. Laughing at something Kazuha whispered to you, pen twirling between your fingers, that same focused-but-not-really expression on your face.
Jake leaned back, tapping his pen against his lip.
You looked soft. Not in the cheesy romcom way—just… not sharp like most people. You weren’t trying to be noticed. You weren’t dressed to impress. You just were. And Jake had a strange moment of clarity where he realized: that might be why he’d thought of you in the first place.
Predictable. Low drama. Quiet.
Someone he could control the narrative with.
Jay’s dumb idea floated back into his head again: “Real dating. See who lasts longer.”
Jake exhaled slowly, like it would push the hesitation out of his lungs.
This wasn’t about feelings. He didn’t like you. He didn’t want to text you goodnight or hold your hand at parties or any of that romcom garbage. But maybe you were safe enough to play the part. Someone who wouldn’t make things messy. Someone who already had a soft spot for him.
He glanced at you again, just as you looked down to write something in your notebook, your brows furrowed in concentration.
He could do it. Just a few weeks, some dates, a little effort. Easy.
Jake grinned to himself, resting his chin on his hand.
He didn’t realize he was already watching you too closely.
Didn’t realize he was starting to wonder how you’d react if he actually said hi.
He just thought,
Yeah. This’ll be easy.
Jake caught himself watching you again.
It wasn’t even on purpose—at least, that’s what he told himself. You weren’t doing anything special. Just taking notes, occasionally glancing at the board, the corners of your mouth twitching every time Kazuha leaned over and whispered something dumb. But for some reason, he couldn’t look away for long.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of it.
Jay:
pick someone yet or u backing out?
Jake smirked, thumbs tapping quickly.
Jake:
working on it
Jay:
clock’s ticking
Jake rolled his eyes, tossing the phone facedown on the desk.
The truth was, he already knew. He’d made up his mind the second he walked into class and saw you laughing like you didn’t have a single clue how close you were to becoming part of something you didn’t sign up for.
But he wasn’t going to tell Jay yet. He wasn’t even sure why.
Maybe because part of him felt like once he said it out loud, it would make it real. More real than it needed to be. And despite how casual he was pretending to be, this wasn’t like hooking up with some girl from a party. This wasn’t sneaking out of someone’s dorm room at 2 a.m. before things got too serious.
This was… a role. A performance. One he’d have to keep up if he wanted to win.
He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes drifting toward you again.
You didn’t even know he existed—at least, not really. Sure, you might’ve looked at him a few times, maybe had that little crush people liked to tease about, but you didn’t know him. Not the version he showed at parties, not the bored one in class, not the one who smiled when he needed something.
You were still clean.
Jake wondered how long that would last.
When class ended, he stood and slung his backpack over one shoulder, lingering by the exit just long enough to watch you gather your things. You laughed at something Kazuha said again, then turned to wave goodbye to Minju.
And for half a second, your eyes met his.
He gave you a slow, easy smile—one he’d used a thousand times before—and this time, you didn’t look away so quickly.
Jake walked out of the room, his smirk growing.
You couldn’t focus the rest of the day.
Jake Sim had smiled at you.
Not just a polite, passing one. Not the half-distracted, probably-at-someone-behind-you kind. No. It was at you—slow, smooth, like he knew something you didn’t. Like he meant it.
And stupidly, pathetically, you’d smiled back.
Your stomach was still fluttering from it hours later. Even as you sat at your usual café table with Yuna, Kazuha, and Minju, pretending to listen to their convo, all you could think about was that look. That damn smile. The way his eyes had lingered just long enough to make your brain short-circuit.
Yuna caught you zoning out and kicked your foot under the table. “Earth to lover girl.”
You blinked. “Huh?”
“You’ve been checked out since class,” Minju said, sipping her iced latte like she wasn’t stirring chaos.
“Let me guess,” Kazuha added, leaning forward with a smirk. “Jake smiled at you?”
You opened your mouth to deny it, but Yuna cut in with a dramatic gasp. “He did?! Wait—you smiled back?!”
You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “I don’t know what it was, okay? He looked at me and—ugh, I probably imagined the whole thing.”
“You didn’t,” Minju said casually. “He looked at you. I saw it.”
You peeked through your fingers. “Was it like… a weird look? Or just, like, a normal thing?”
Kazuha raised an eyebrow. “Does Jake Sim ever look at someone normally?”
Yuna leaned her chin on her palm, suddenly serious. “Okay, but real talk. If he did look at you, like, look at you… be careful.”
Your heart sank a little. “What do you mean?”
“He’s Jake,” Minju said. “He doesn’t date. He flirts, he parties, he makes girls fall for him and then disappears.”
“I’m not falling for him,” you said too quickly.
Three sets of eyebrows went up at once.
“I’m not!” you insisted, but your voice cracked halfway through, completely ruining your case. They all exchanged knowing looks, and Kazuha patted your hand like you were already a lost cause.
You sat back in your seat, sipping your drink in silence, trying to calm the chaos in your chest. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal. Maybe Jake smiled at a hundred girls a day.
But still, the way he’d looked at you…
It didn’t feel like nothing.
And somewhere not too far from that café, Jake Sim was leaning back against a wall outside the library, scrolling through his phone.
He hadn’t told Jay yet. He hadn’t told anyone.
But your name sat quietly in the back of his mind.
Like a string he’d just started tugging.
Like a move he hadn’t played yet.
And tomorrow? He planned to say hello.
The next day came quicker than you expected.
You tried not to overthink it. Tried not to pick out your outfit with him in mind. Tried not to rehearse fake scenarios in your head where Jake Sim actually acknowledged you again—maybe said hi, maybe made a joke, maybe even asked you a question. Nothing big. Just something. Anything.
But deep down, under the nervous energy and second-guessing, a small, traitorous part of you hoped.
You walked into stats early, which never happened, your notebook hugged to your chest like it might protect you from your own delusions. Kazuha and Minju were already there, chatting quietly, and you took your usual seat beside them, eyes scanning the door more times than you cared to admit.
You told yourself you weren’t checking for him. Just being aware. Just… existing in the same room.
And then he walked in.
Jake didn’t look at anyone at first. Just strolled in like always—relaxed, unbothered, his usual drink in hand. He scanned the room casually, his eyes drifting past people without really stopping.
Until they landed on you.
And this time, he didn’t look away.
A lazy, lopsided grin pulled at his lips as he met your gaze. Not rushed. Not accidental.
Intentional.
Your throat went dry.
And then—like it was the most normal thing in the world—Jake Sim nodded at you. A simple, subtle gesture.
But it felt like the whole room paused around it.
You blinked. Your lips parted, surprised, and then instinctively—you nodded back. Small. Shy. Like your heart hadn’t just punched through your ribcage.
Jake held your gaze for half a second longer, then turned and walked to his usual seat near the back like nothing had happened.
But something had happened.
Kazuha leaned in immediately. “Okay, no. That wasn’t normal. He totally looked at you.”
Minju blinked. “Did he just nod at you like you guys are friends or something?”
You couldn’t even answer. You were too busy trying to regulate your breathing, too focused on the way your hands suddenly didn’t know what to do.
Across the room, Jake sat down, stretched out, and didn’t say a word.
Jay nudged him. “You good?”
Jake didn’t look away from the front. “Yeah,” he said simply. “Just watching something.”
Jay raised a brow, confused, but let it go.
You felt it the second you walked out of class—like a magnet at your back.
You didn’t have to turn around to know he was behind you. His steps were slower than yours, but just close enough that you could hear the occasional scuff of his sneakers on the pavement. And even in the noise of campus—people laughing, bikes zipping by, someone blasting music from a speaker—you felt him.
Jake Sim. Still walking behind you. Still very much a mystery.
“Okay,” Kazuha whispered beside you, leaning in with the most obvious side-eye imaginable. “Do not freak out. But he’s right there.”
“I know,” you hissed, eyes forward.
“I mean right there, like five steps back.”
Minju, on your other side, kept her voice casual. “What do you think he wants?”
“Nothing,” you said quickly. Too quickly. “Probably just going the same way.”
“Oh, sure,” Kazuha drawled. “Because Jake Sim always just happens to walk behind girls he makes eye contact with for five seconds straight.”
Your face was hot. You hated how your brain had started keeping track of these things—every glance, every nod, every smile like it meant something.
You turned the corner with your friends, and for a second, it felt like maybe that was it. Maybe he was just walking the same direction.
“Hey.”
One word. Smooth. Easy.
Him.
You stopped. Your heart didn’t.
Jake slid into view beside you like he did this all the time, like you weren’t already halfway to spiraling.
He looked straight at you. “You’re in my stats class, right?”
You blinked. Your mouth opened slightly. “Uh… yeah.”
He smiled like he already knew the answer.
“I’ve seen you around,” he said casually, like this wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it. “What’s your name?”
You told him. Your voice barely above a whisper.
Jake nodded, like he was tucking it away. “Cool. I’m Jake.”
Like you didn’t already know.
“I know,” you said before you could stop yourself.
His grin widened slightly. Not cocky, not smug. Just… amused.
“Right,” he said, a little laugh in his voice. “Well, I’ll see you around.”
And with that, he was gone.
No flirting. No teasing. No over-the-top pickup line.
Just your name on his lips. Like he planned to use it again.
Your friends were staring at you with open mouths.
Kazuha grabbed your arm. “I am going to pass out.”
Minju fanned herself. “You talked. To Jake Sim.”
You stood there, blinking at the space where he used to be, your heart still racing.
You didn’t know what just happened.
But whatever it was, it wasn’t nothing.
Jake didn’t look back.
He didn’t need to. He knew you were still standing there, probably replaying the conversation in your head, maybe wondering if you’d said something weird or if he’d meant anything by it.
He hadn’t.
Not really.
(Kind of.)
He let his smirk fade the second he turned the corner, jaw tightening slightly as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He could feel Jay’s voice in his head already, mocking him—“So? Who’d you pick?”
He wasn’t going to tell him yet. Not until it was set in motion.
And it was now. Officially.
He’d spoken to you. Broke the fourth wall. You weren’t a background presence anymore—you were the option. The one he was going to test this theory out on.
Not because you were a challenge.
Not because you were hard to get.
But because you were… interested.
He’d seen the look on your face when he asked your name. That flicker of nervous excitement, like you’d been caught in the middle of something you didn’t want to end. He knew that look. He’d seen it before. Dozens of times.
But this time? He wasn’t here to break hearts. He was here to win.
That was the bet.
Longest relationship.
Play the part. Make it believable.
Easy.
Jake walked into the dining hall like nothing had happened, spotting Jay already sitting with a tray of fries and a bored expression.
“Yo,” Jay said. “You look like you just committed a crime.”
Jake slid into the seat across from him, swiping a fry. “Maybe I did.”
Jay narrowed his eyes. “You pick someone?”
Jake chewed slowly, then shrugged. “Thinking about it.”
“‘Thinking about it’ or already made up your mind?”
Jake leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms behind his head. “Let’s just say… I’ve got a good feeling.”
Jay laughed. “You’re gonna lose.”
Jake grinned back, calm and sure of himself. “We’ll see.”
Meanwhile, two buildings over, you were still stuck in place—your name echoing in your ears in his voice.
Jake Sim had talked to you. Asked your name. Smiled like he’d meant it.
And you?
You were already in trouble.
You just didn’t know it yet.
You floated through the rest of your day in a haze.
Jake Sim—campus heartbreaker, unintentional walking distraction, the guy you’d spent way too long overanalyzing from a distance—had not only spoken to you, but said your name. Like it belonged in his mouth. Like he planned to say it again.
You replayed it on loop.
“What’s your name?”
“I’ve seen you around.”
“Cool. I’m Jake.”
You. Were. Doomed.
Yuna nearly screamed when you told her.
“HE WHAT?” she shrieked in your dorm room, slamming her phone face down on your bed. “Okay, no. Wait. Start from the beginning. Word for word. Breath for breath. Blinking pattern. Everything.”
“I already told you everything!”
Yuna gave you a flat look. “You barely told me anything. You just stood there in a daze and whispered, ‘He talked to me’ like you were in some kind of Jake-induced coma.”
“I was in a Jake-induced coma,” you mumbled, falling back onto your pillow dramatically. “I think I still am.”
“Okay but why now?” she asked, sitting at the foot of your bed and stealing one of your chips. “Like, what changed? You guys have had stats together for weeks and he’s never even looked at you.”
You blinked at the ceiling. “Maybe he just… noticed me.”
Yuna gave you a look. “Guys like Jake don’t ‘just notice’ girls. It’s either because he’s bored, he’s interested, or he’s got some kind of motive.”
You sat up a little. “You think he has a motive? Like… what? What kind of motive?”
Yuna paused, chewing thoughtfully. “I don’t know. But Jake doesn’t make small talk unless he’s getting something out of it. Trust me. He’s hot, yeah, but there’s always something else going on in that beautiful, toxic little brain.”
You rolled your eyes, but a tiny part of you held onto her words. You didn’t want to believe that. You wanted to believe maybe he was just… curious. Maybe he thought you were cute. Maybe—by some miracle—he wasn’t playing a game.
But then again, Jake Sim was known for a lot of things.
Genuine interest wasn’t one of them.
Still, your heart refused to care.
He said your name.
He smiled.
He looked at you.
And for now, that was enough to keep you wide awake at 1:42 a.m., staring at your ceiling, whispering his name once just to hear how it sounded in the dark.
You told yourself it wasn’t for him.
You were just in the mood to look nice today—normal girl behavior. Nothing out of the ordinary. So what if you curled your hair instead of your usual half-tied bun? So what if you put on a little gloss and swapped your hoodie for a top that fit just a little better than usual? You weren’t going to see him anyway. Probably.
(But you left five minutes earlier than usual… just in case.)
You blamed Yuna for the way your nerves spiked as soon as you stepped onto campus. Her voice kept looping in your head like a warning bell.
“Guys like Jake don’t just notice girls out of nowhere.”
You’d rolled your eyes at the time, but it stuck. Still, when you caught your reflection in the hallway mirror outside class, a small smile tugged at your lips. You looked good. Confident. Not for Jake—but if he noticed? That wouldn’t be the worst thing.
He did.
You felt his gaze before you even stepped into the classroom. The weight of it. Heavy, warm, lazy like he wasn’t in a rush to look away. You didn’t dare meet his eyes—not right away—but your heart was already beating in your ears.
Kazuha whispered a teasing, “Oooh, someone came dressed to kill today,” as you sat down, and you tried to play it cool, brushing her off with a laugh. But you couldn’t ignore the glance Jake threw over his shoulder.
And the small nod. Again. Just like before. It was subtle. Barely there. But intentional. And that was enough to keep you smiling through half the lecture like an idiot.
Later that day, back at your dorm, you were practically humming as you kicked off your shoes. Yuna looked up from her laptop, narrowed her eyes, and said immediately, “Okay. Spill. What happened?”
You raised a brow, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”
“You wore lip gloss,” she deadpanned. “You only do that for confidence or crushes. And knowing you? It’s both.” You flopped onto your bed with a dreamy sigh. “He looked at me again.” Yuna groaned. “Girl. You’re spiraling.”
“I’m fine,” you said, rolling onto your stomach.
“No, you’re in the delusional phase,” she said, sitting up. “Where you think he’s texting you with his eyes and secretly planning your wedding. I’m telling you, this is how he gets girls. He makes you feel seen.”
You stayed quiet, fiddling with the edge of your pillowcase.
“I’m not saying he’s evil,” Yuna went on. “I’m saying he’s not… safe. He’s not consistent. And I just don’t want you to be another story where he gets bored and leaves.”
You didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when your heart was still soaring.
“I get it,” you mumbled. “But it’s not that serious. It’s just a crush.”
Yuna stared at you for a long moment. “That’s exactly how it starts.”
But you didn’t answer. You just kept smiling to yourself. Because Jake Sim looked at you again. And in your head, that meant everything.
Jake saw you before you saw him.
You were sitting on the low stone wall outside the library, legs crossed at the ankles, earbuds in, flipping through your notes with a furrow between your brows like you actually cared about the quiz tomorrow. The afternoon sun hit your face just right, lighting up the gold in your lashes, and for a moment—just a second—he forgot this was supposed to be a thing.
A game. A bet. A joke between him and Jay.
He shook it off.
“Go say something,” Jay muttered from beside him, nudging Jake with his elbow.
Jake rolled his eyes. “Relax.”
“Relax? Bro, you were just talking about how easy this was gonna be,” Jay said. “You smiled at her, got her name. Step three is conversation.”
Jake didn’t answer right away. He just watched you.
You looked like the type who wrote in a journal at night. The type who doodled on worksheets, who had a playlist for every mood and a favorite pen that no one else was allowed to touch. You weren’t like the girls at parties who clung to him for the thrill of it, who liked the idea of Jake Sim more than Jake himself.
That made it interesting.
Or maybe risky. He hadn’t decided yet.
“I’m giving you three seconds,” Jay said. “Then I’m picking someone else for you.”
Jake scoffed and stepped off the path.
He took his time crossing the grass, casual but with purpose. You didn’t notice him at first, too caught up in whatever study playlist was pulsing through your ears. He tapped the back of the bench once with two fingers, and you startled slightly, pulling one earbud out as your eyes lifted to meet his.
There it was again—recognition. Surprise. That soft little tilt to your lips like you were trying not to smile too much.
“Hey,” he said, leaning slightly against the edge of the wall. “You always study out here?”
You blinked. “Only when it’s nice out.” He nodded, eyes flicking to your open notebook. “What’s the subject?”
“Stats,” you said, grimacing. “Trying to pretend I understand anything from today.” He laughed a little—easy, smooth, practiced. “Yeah, same. I zoned out after the first ten minutes.”
You smiled, and this time it reached your eyes. “You sit in the back. You always zone out. He raised a brow, impressed. “So you’ve been watching me?”
You opened your mouth to respond, then faltered, clearly realizing what you’d just admitted.
Jake grinned. Gotcha.
“I mean—not watching watching,” you rushed to say. “Just, you’re… kind of hard to miss.”
He let the moment hang between you, his smirk lingering before he glanced down at your notes again. “You want help?” he asked suddenly. You blinked. “With stats?”
“Sure. I mean, I don’t guarantee results,” he said, pushing off the wall and shoving his hands in his pockets. “But we could suffer through it together.”
Your eyes searched his face for something—for a sign he was messing with you. But he didn’t look away.
“Okay,” you said quietly. “Yeah. That’d be… cool.”
Jake nodded once, then stepped back. “Tomorrow. After class?”
You nodded.
He turned without another word, heading back toward Jay with that easy gait that made people move out of his way. Jay raised his brows at him like well?
Jake just said, “Locked in.” And didn’t explain further.
Didn’t mention how your voice had sounded a little shy when you said yes. Didn’t mention the part of him that liked that.
He told himself he wasn’t catching feelings. He was just playing the role. That’s all this was. Wasn’t it?
The next day, you didn’t know whether to dread or look forward to stats.
You’d barely slept. You kept rewriting yesterday in your head—Jake walking up to you, Jake talking to you, Jake offering to help you study like it was nothing. Like that wasn’t the most surreal part of your entire week.
You were half convinced it was a fluke. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe it was some joke. Or maybe—maybe—you dreamed it and none of it actually happened.
But then he slid into the seat next to you like it was his usual spot.
Like it had always been his.
You looked up at him in surprise, your voice caught in your throat. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey,” he said easily, tossing his phone on the desk and leaning back like he had all the time in the world. “You still down to study after this?”
You blinked. “Y-Yeah. Of course.”
He gave you a small, satisfied smile, then leaned in a little closer, voice low enough that only you could hear it. “What’s your Instagram?”
You froze.
You knew this moment was coming. Like, eventually. Hopefully. Maybe. But not this fast. Not like it was casual.
“Oh—um,” you fumbled with your phone, screen lighting up as your fingers clumsily opened the app. “It’s just—my username is kind of stupid, don’t laugh.”
Jake chuckled under his breath. “Now I have to see it.”
You turned your screen toward him, and he leaned in slightly, shoulder brushing yours for a second too long. His fingers grazed your phone as he typed it into his own, brows furrowed in concentration.
“There,” he said a moment later. “Followed.”
Your phone buzzed instantly, the notification lighting up like a siren:
simjyn started following you.
You tried to stay calm. Cool. Normal.
But Jake? Jake was already scrolling through your feed like he had nothing better to do. His eyes flicked up to yours briefly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re cute in this one.”
You almost choked.
He was pointing to a picture Minju had taken of you a couple weeks ago—your hand resting on your cheek, smiling softly at something off-camera. You’d only posted it after three days of deliberation.
“You—what?” you said, breathless.
Jake didn’t miss a beat. “I said you’re cute. You don’t agree?”
Your mouth opened, then closed again.
He laughed under his breath, clearly enjoying the way he’d short-circuited your brain. Then he leaned back in his chair like he hadn’t just sent your pulse into orbit.
“Stats,” he said casually, flipping open his notebook. “Then coffee. That’s our deal, right?”
You nodded slowly, your cheeks on fire.
He didn’t say anything else.
But your phone buzzed again under the desk.
simjyn: looking forward to it
You didn’t know whether to smile or scream. So you did both. Internally.
You didn’t even have to type it in.
The second Jake said, “What’s your Instagram?” you already knew where this was going. You played it off so well—bit your lip like you were thinking, fumbled with your phone a little like you needed to search for his account too.
But you didn’t. You’d known it for months.
@simjyn.
No numbers. No punctuation. Just clean, simple, cool. Like him.
You’d visited it more times than you’d ever admit out loud.
You knew the exact photo he’d posted on New Year’s Eve—black button-up, rings on his fingers, drink in hand, smirk sharper than his jawline. You remembered how his captions were always short, effortless. Sometimes just a song lyric, sometimes a single word. Always just enough to keep people guessing.
You’d watched his stories religiously. Even the ones that weren’t interesting—clips of skateparks, random memes, grainy concert videos. You once spent an entire night reading through the comments on one of his old posts, heart dropping every time a girl left a flirty emoji and he liked it.
And now? That username lit up your phone for real.
@simjyn followed you.
@simjyn ❤️ your story.
@simjyn sent you a DM.
You nearly forgot how to breathe.
What made it worse—or maybe better—was how normal he made it all feel. Like he hadn’t just stepped out of the fantasy you’d kept locked behind your phone screen. Like this wasn’t your real life crashing into the version of Jake you only knew from filtered posts and captions.
You tried to keep your cool, acting like this wasn’t a big deal. Like you hadn’t already scrolled back to his 2019 posts at least once. Like you didn’t already have his account bookmarked under a folder labeled “Just Vibes” (because “Jake Sim” felt too on the nose).
Still, when the class ended and you stepped outside, your fingers twitched with the urge to check your notifications again. And there it was.
@simjyn: looking forward to it.
Like it was just the beginning.
And maybe, terrifyingly, it was.
The days that followed felt like they were moving in slow motion, each one dragging longer than the last as you waited for something to happen.
The moment you’d been hoping for—the one where Jake would finally make it real, where the playful back-and-forth would shift from flirtation to something else—wasn’t happening.
Instead, he kept it casual. Too casual.
Too normal.
He kept up the conversations. Stats class? He would lean over, whispering about the notes, joking about the professor’s monotone voice. He would always walk with you afterward, or grab coffee with you. Nothing over the top. Nothing overtly romantic.
But your heart still raced every time he smiled at you. Every time he leaned a little too close. Every time his fingers brushed against yours as he handed you your coffee or his shoulder bumped yours when you were walking together. You could tell he was making it seem easy. Comfortable. Like you were just friends.
But you were barely holding it together.
Your phone buzzed late one night while you were finishing up homework. You glanced at it, heart skipping when you saw his name pop up in your notifications.
@simjyn: Got a minute?
You stared at the message for a solid minute. Your thumb hovered over the screen, hesitation creeping in. Should you play it cool? Or be honest and show just how interested you were?
You took a breath, tapped the screen, and typed back:
You: Of course, what’s up?
It took a few seconds for him to respond, and when he did, you couldn’t help but feel the subtle excitement surge in your chest.
@simjyn: You free tomorrow after class? Thought we could grab lunch or something.
You stared at the message for a long second, rereading it just to be sure it wasn’t some joke. But no—he’d actually asked. He’d really asked.
And you, being entirely unable to contain the flutter in your stomach, replied without hesitation:
You: Sounds good. What time?
It didn’t take long for him to send the reply, casual as ever:
@simjyn: 1 p.m. sharp. See you then.
You couldn’t help but smile, even as you tried to play it off to yourself. You were going to lunch.
With Jake Sim.
Just lunch.
Still, as you set your phone down, the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. It twisted, deepened, and tightened with something you couldn’t ignore.
This was different.
You weren’t just some girl caught up in the attention of a guy.
This time, it felt real.
The morning of the lunch, you barely made it through your classes. Every few minutes, your mind would wander back to the text. You tried to focus, to pay attention to the lecture, but all you could think about was what you were going to wear. You settled on something comfortable—nothing too dressed up, but something that still made you feel good. You didn’t want to seem like you were trying too hard, but you also didn’t want to look like you didn’t care.
When the bell rang, you gathered your things and tried to move quickly, but not too quickly. There was no way you were going to be that eager.
You got to the café a little early, scanning the tables, heart racing as you waited. And then, just as you began to think he might be late, you saw him walk through the door. Jake Sim, effortlessly cool in a black leather jacket and dark jeans. His hair was slightly messy in that way that made you want to run your fingers through it.
He glanced around and spotted you almost immediately. The moment your eyes met, he gave you that signature, crooked grin. The one that made your stomach flip.
“Hey,” he greeted as he slid into the seat across from you. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
You shook your head, trying not to act too flustered. “No, not at all. I just got here.”
He gave a nonchalant nod, then leaned back in his chair, eyes scanning the menu on the wall. “So, how’s the studying been going?”
You shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Same as usual. Lots of work, not a lot of results.”
Jake chuckled, glancing over at you. “I can relate. Stats is definitely not my strong suit. I’ve had to rely on the internet a lot.”
You laughed, genuinely this time. “I can’t believe you’re just now admitting that you’re using Google.”
“Hey, it works,” he said, raising his hands in mock defense. “Why make life harder?”
The conversation flowed easily after that, lighthearted banter about classes, the terrible food at the campus café, and random bits of gossip you both knew. Nothing serious. But somehow, it felt… different. He was relaxed around you. More relaxed than he’d ever seemed before, and it made you wonder if this was just another casual thing to him, or if something else was starting to shift.
Then, after a while, Jake’s tone softened. He tilted his head, studying you for a moment as if weighing his words. “You’ve been acting a little different lately. More… put together, you know?”
You blinked, unsure of how to respond to that. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged slightly, his eyes still focused on you, but there was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’ve always been pretty chill, but you’re, like, shining now. What’s up with that?”
Your heart skipped, a small nervous laugh escaping your lips. “I’m just… I don’t know. Maybe I’m just getting better at balancing everything.”
Jake leaned in just slightly, his gaze narrowing with interest. “I think it’s more than that. You’re definitely pulling it off.”
You stared at him for a second, not sure what to make of the compliment. He said it so casually, like it was just an observation. But it felt different, like he was actually noticing you—really noticing you.
You swallowed, suddenly feeling exposed. “Well, thanks. That’s… sweet.”
There was a moment of silence between you, the air thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, to your surprise, Jake broke the tension with a grin. “You know, I’ve got a theory.”
You raised an eyebrow, curious despite yourself. “A theory?”
“Yeah,” he said, leaning back in his chair, looking like he was about to say something way too casually. “I think you might just be trying to impress me.”
The words hit you like a bolt of electricity, and for a moment, you weren’t sure if you were supposed to laugh, blush, or run away. “What? No—no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I mean, maybe a little bit, but… I don’t think I need to impress you.”
Jake smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Oh? I’m not that impressive, huh?”
You bit your lip, not sure how to play this. “No, you are. I just—” You cut yourself off, suddenly realizing how much you’d revealed in a single sentence. But Jake didn’t press. He just chuckled, clearly having fun with this.
“You’re cute when you get nervous,” he said, his voice low and teasing.
Your cheeks burned at the comment, but you quickly composed yourself. “Well, it’s not like I’ve got anything to impress you with. I’m just… me.”
Jake leaned forward slightly, eyes locking with yours in that way that made your heart race. “That’s all I need to see.”
His words hung in the air between you like an unspoken promise, and for a moment, you thought you might actually fall for the idea that this wasn’t just a game.
But then, just as quickly, he sat back, picked up his coffee, and took a casual sip like nothing had happened.
You blinked, trying to clear the confusion in your head. Was he playing with you? Or was this real?
Before you could ask, Jake grinned, his eyes flicking to your phone. “Hey, I’ll hit you up later. I’ve got to go catch up with Jay about something.”
“Okay,” you said, your voice a little quieter than you meant it to be. “I’ll see you later, then.” He stood up, tossing a few bills onto the table before flashing that same carefree smile. “Yeah. See you around.”
As he walked away, you watched him go, your heart hammering in your chest. You couldn’t figure out if he was just being Jake, or if something else was going on. But one thing was clear. He had your attention, and it felt like you were already in this deeper than you wanted to admit.
The next few days were a blur of moments that felt too good to be true. Every time you saw Jake, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was changing. He was suddenly everywhere, his presence more noticeable, more… intentional.
It started small—an unexpected text, just a random meme or a “How’s your day going?” message. It wasn’t the kind of thing friends usually exchanged, not unless they were really close. But he made it feel effortless. Like it was normal. Like you were supposed to be texting each other.
When you sat together in class, Jake would lean a little closer, whispering jokes in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. He’d brush your arm with his when reaching for a pen or hand you a piece of paper as if your hands weren’t already close enough to touch. And every time his gaze met yours, there was this flicker in his eyes—a hint of something that made you feel like you were both in on some secret that no one else knew.
“You’re wearing that sweater again,” he’d say, a grin pulling at his lips. “I like it.”
You’d laugh nervously, trying to act casual, but inside, your heart would race. Every time he called you out like that—whether it was for something you wore, the way your hair fell across your face, or the way you bit your lip when you were nervous—it felt like a compliment. A tease. And you couldn’t tell if you were supposed to be flattered or embarrassed.
But then, you’d notice the little things—like how his gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than usual, how his smile reached his eyes, and how he seemed to make every conversation feel like an inside joke. You could feel it. The playful flirty energy was unmistakable.
One afternoon, you were walking across campus together when Jake leaned in and said, “You know, you look really cute when you’re thinking.”
Your mind went blank. “What?”
He laughed softly, his voice low and teasing. “When you get all quiet, just staring at nothing. You’re cute, I can’t help it.”
You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Stop it.”
But his grin only widened. He didn’t stop. Not this time. His arm brushed yours as you walked, the skin-to-skin contact sending an electric jolt through your entire body. He kept close, just close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, just close enough that it started to mess with your head.
“Really,” he continued, “You should smile more. Makes everything better.”
You couldn’t think straight. He was being so Jake about it—teasing and flirty, but there was something in the way he said it, something deeper, like he was trying to get closer to you than just casual flirtation. You tried to brush it off, but there was no denying it—he was turning up the charm.
The worst part? You liked it. You liked it too much.
But as much as you were getting drawn into the flirty energy with Jake, your friends noticed. Especially Yuna.
“Hey, you’re pulling away,” Yuna said one day as you walked with her across campus. “You’ve been hanging out with Jake a lot lately. Like… more than usual.”
You tried to brush it off, but the protective tone in her voice was obvious. “What are you talking about? We’re just hanging out.”
She raised an eyebrow, giving you a skeptical look. “I don’t know, YN. I mean, I’ve seen the way he’s been acting with you lately. Don’t let him mess with your head. He’s—”
“Stop,” you snapped, more sharply than you meant to. “I’m not stupid. I know what I’m doing.”
Yuna stopped walking, eyes wide as she stared at you. “I’m just trying to look out for you,” she said quietly. “Jake’s not exactly the type to take things seriously. You don’t want to end up hurt.”
The words hit you like a punch in the gut. But instead of feeling gratitude for her concern, you felt something else—a weird, unexpected irritation.
“I said stop,” you repeated, this time quieter but no less firm. “I don’t need you to remind me every five seconds that Jake’s a bad idea. I’m fine.”
Yuna opened her mouth to argue, but you held up your hand, cutting her off. “Really, Yuna, just drop it. I can handle myself.”
You could see the hurt flash across her face, but you didn’t care in the moment. You didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear about how Jake was playing you, how he was just a game to him, how everyone saw it coming except you. Because you didn’t want to see it. Not now. Not when things were just starting to feel… good.
You walked away from her then, your mind in a whirl. But even as you pushed away your concern for her words, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Something was off, and it wasn’t just with Jake.
And as you thought about it more, as you thought about his flirty comments, the way he leaned in too close when you were talking, the way he looked at you like he knew something you didn’t, you wondered if maybe Yuna was right after all.
But then again… why would you care?
After all, he was giving you attention. He was talking to you. It felt good. And sometimes, that was all that mattered, right?
Later that week, you found yourself standing in front of Jake’s apartment door, the cold metal of the handle pressing against your palm. You didn’t know exactly how you’d gotten here, but somewhere along the way, you’d ended up accepting his invitation to hang out. It wasn’t even that late. You’d just had a weird day with your friends, and now, you were here.
Jake’s voice came through the door before he even opened it. “Hey, come on in!”
The door swung open, and he flashed you that familiar grin that you still weren’t used to, despite how many times you’d seen it. “You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders,” he said with a teasing raise of his eyebrows.
You didn’t even have it in you to give a smart remark back. Instead, you just walked in, kicking your shoes off as you stepped inside. The apartment was just as you remembered—lived in, a bit messy, but still comfortable. Jake had that careless confidence about him, the kind that made everything feel like it was in its rightful place, even when it wasn’t.
You plopped down on the couch, dropping your bag beside you, feeling suddenly exhausted. Your shoulders slumped, and Jake’s eyes followed the movement with a curious look before he sank onto the couch beside you, casually stretching his arms out along the backrest.
“What’s going on?” he asked, genuinely concerned, but his tone was light, trying to keep things casual, like everything was fine.
You took a deep breath, then sighed heavily, letting it all spill out in a way that surprised even you. “I don’t know what’s going on with me lately,” you said, your voice a little softer than you expected. “I mean, Yuna’s being… overprotective. She thinks you’re just playing with me. And I get it. She’s looking out for me. But it’s like, I can’t get her to understand that I’m fine. That I’m not… that stupid.”
You glanced at him for a moment, but he was just listening, his focus on you in a way that made your stomach flip. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t tell you you were overreacting. He just sat there, waiting for you to keep going.
“I feel like I’m stuck between two worlds. Like one side wants to just… enjoy it, you know? You’re fun, you’re everything I thought you were. But then, there’s this other side, where I can’t shake the feeling that maybe she’s right. Maybe you’re not looking for anything serious, and I’m just… falling for it. But I can’t stop myself,” you vented, your voice starting to tremble slightly.
Jake stayed quiet for a few seconds, his gaze shifting to the floor for a brief moment before looking back at you.
“You’re allowed to feel what you feel,” he said softly, the words coming out slower than usual. “Don’t let anyone make you doubt yourself. Yuna’s just trying to protect you, but you can handle it. If you’re not ready to hear what she has to say, then you don’t have to. That’s your decision.”
There was something in his tone that was different—something almost… comforting. It wasn’t the usual cocky Jake. This was the version of him that actually cared.
You let out a shaky laugh, unsure of whether it was from nerves or relief. “I don’t know if I can handle this… It’s all just so confusing. I don’t even know if I’m reading everything wrong, or if I’m just imagining things.”
His expression softened, and he leaned in just slightly, the casual distance between you both shrinking. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now, you know? You don’t have to be perfect. Not with me.”
And before you even realized it, you were leaning toward him. You didn’t even think about it, didn’t even second-guess it. Your body just reacted, your forehead resting against his shoulder, your exhaustion seeping out of you all at once.
Jake didn’t pull away, didn’t even flinch. He just stayed still, his body tense for only a second before relaxing, letting you lean on him, letting you take the weight off for just a little while. His arm slowly reached up, resting gently on your back, the warmth of his touch sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.
For a moment, the world outside disappeared. There was only the sound of your breathing and the steady, comforting presence of Jake beside you. And in that space, you didn’t feel confused or vulnerable. You just felt… safe.
But Jake? Jake felt something he wasn’t prepared for.
His chest tightened as your weight shifted against him, your head resting on his shoulder. Something in the pit of his stomach stirred in a way he wasn’t used to. The easy, flirtatious banter, the teasing touches, the smiles—it had always felt like a game, a light distraction. But now, with you leaning on him like this, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had crossed some invisible line.
Jake wasn’t the type to let his guard down easily, especially not with someone like you—someone who was already too easy to get attached to. He’d always prided himself on being able to keep things light, keep things easy. But now, as you sat there with your breath steady against his chest, he felt something shift in his chest. It was too strong, too real, too unfamiliar.
He knew he shouldn’t be feeling it. He knew he shouldn’t be letting himself get this close, this comfortable. But there was something about the way you were so trusting, so open, that made him rethink everything. Maybe he didn’t have to keep things light forever. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let things get a little deeper.
But Jake didn’t say anything. He didn’t pull away, and he didn’t push forward. He just stayed there, letting the moment stretch out, wondering what it would mean if he allowed himself to feel whatever this was.
And for the first time in a long time, Jake Sim wasn’t quite sure what was happening to him.
The next day, you were walking with Minju and Kazuha when the conversation inevitably turned to the topic you were avoiding. Your friends had been whispering behind your back, but now, they were cornering you about it, and you knew exactly what was coming.
“YN,” Minju started, her voice soft but firm. “We know you’re close with Jake now, but Yuna’s just trying to look out for you. She cares about you.”
You tried to ignore the feeling of guilt that twisted inside you, but it was impossible to shake off. You had felt bad about snapping at Yuna, but right now, you just weren’t ready to deal with it. Not when everything with Jake was still so… new, so uncertain.
“I know, okay?” you said, your voice slightly more defensive than you intended. You slowed your pace, unwilling to keep walking any longer. You could feel their concerned gazes on you. “But I don’t need to hear it right now. I don’t want to think about it.”
Kazuha frowned, tilting her head as she studied your face. “We just don’t want you to get hurt, YN,” she said, her voice gentle but tinged with worry. “We know you like him, but… Jake doesn’t exactly have the best reputation when it comes to relationships.”
You clenched your jaw. Not this again.
“I don’t need anyone else telling me what I already know.” Your words were sharp, but it was hard to keep your cool. “I’m fine. I’m not an idiot. I know the risks.” You paused, your voice quieter now. “I just… I’m not ready to have that conversation with anyone, especially Yuna. So, can we just drop it?”
Minju gave you a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “We’re just looking out for you, YN. It’s not about not trusting you. It’s about the fact that we’ve seen this kind of thing happen before.”
You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. “I get it, but… I’m not asking for advice right now. I just want to figure things out on my own. I don’t want to hear how this is going to end before it’s even really started.”
Kazuha took a step closer, her tone easing as she tried to lighten the mood. “We’re not trying to ruin the fun, YN. We just don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”
“I know you care. But please… not now,” you said, holding up a hand to stop any further discussion. You didn’t want to fight, didn’t want to let your friends down, but you just couldn’t handle it at that moment. You needed time to figure out where you stood with Jake before you could process any of their warnings.
Minju and Kazuha exchanged a glance, and even though they both wanted to say more, they stayed quiet, sensing that you weren’t in the right headspace.
“Okay,” Minju said finally, her voice softening. “But we’re here for you when you’re ready to talk. Just don’t shut us out completely, alright?”
You nodded, feeling a strange mix of frustration and relief. “I won’t. I promise.”
The conversation ended there, but the lingering tension between you and your friends stayed in the air. You couldn’t shake the feeling that they were worried about you, and that made your chest tighten. But as much as you knew they were just trying to protect you, a part of you didn’t want to listen. You just wanted to figure things out on your own.
And for now, that meant staying focused on Jake and whatever this thing was between you two. Even if it meant pushing everything else aside, at least for a little while.
Jake wasn’t one to let his guard down easily, but over the past few days, something about you had begun to chip away at it. The easy flirtation, the playful teasing—it was all still there, but there was something more now. Something deeper. He couldn’t help but notice how the little things seemed to matter more when you were around. The way you laughed at his jokes, even the ones that barely made sense. The way you smiled at him when no one else was watching. It felt too easy, too natural, like he’d always known how to make you smile. But lately, it didn’t feel like a game. It felt… real.
And that, in itself, was dangerous.
Jake found himself thinking about you even when he didn’t want to. His friends, Jay and Sunghoon, had made jokes about him getting “soft” or “whipped,” but it was hard to shake the feeling that they were right. He did feel something for you. Something he didn’t quite know how to name.
It wasn’t that you were different than the others—no, you were different in a way that made him uncomfortable. You made him want things he hadn’t thought about in a long time. Stability. Connection. More than just a fleeting encounter.
And it was killing him.
He didn’t know why he let himself get closer to you. Maybe it was the way you always seemed to understand him, like no matter how far he pushed, you’d still stick around. Or maybe it was the way you made him laugh even when he didn’t feel like smiling.
He found himself texting you more, asking if you wanted to hang out, even if he had no real reason to. He’d steal glances at you when you weren’t paying attention, noticing the way your eyes would light up when you spoke, the way you’d tilt your head when you were thinking. He even started texting you just to hear you laugh, just to see your name pop up on his screen. It was stupid. It was complicated. And, most of all, it made his stomach twist in ways that were both unsettling and addicting.
That night, things were different. You’d come over to his apartment again, this time without any of your usual defenses. You were quieter than usual, your eyes slightly more distant. He could tell something had been weighing on your mind, and despite all his usual nonchalance, he couldn’t help but want to comfort you.
You were sitting next to him on the couch, a slight distance between the two of you, but it felt like there was something pulling him toward you. He wasn’t sure what it was—maybe it was the way you looked tonight, or how vulnerable you seemed, or maybe it was just the growing ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.
“So, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual, no teasing, no playfulness. Just concern.
You met his gaze, your lips forming a small smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Nothing. Just… stuff with my friends. You know, the usual drama.”
Jake felt his heart sink at the emptiness in your voice, like something was off. But he didn’t press. Not yet. Instead, he leaned closer to you, watching as you pulled your knees up to your chest, clearly lost in your thoughts. Without thinking, his hand found its way to your shoulder, lightly resting there.
“You can talk to me, you know,” he said, his voice quieter, gentler than before.
You hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know if you want to hear it. It’s just… complicated.”
“Hey,” he said softly, his thumb rubbing along your shoulder. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I’m listening.”
You met his gaze then, and for a moment, something passed between you. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Jake felt it like a jolt of electricity between you. The weight of the silence was thick now, and the space between you felt too small.
Without thinking, Jake moved closer, his hand shifting from your shoulder to the side of your face, cupping it gently. Your breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. You just stared at him, eyes wide, like you were waiting for him to make the next move.
Jake’s pulse quickened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been here before—flirtation, attraction, all of it. But this time, something was different. This time, it wasn’t just about the thrill or the chase. It was about you.
You leaned toward him, your lips brushing against his, tentative at first, like neither of you quite knew what was happening. But then, something clicked. The kiss deepened, slow and steady, and Jake’s entire world seemed to narrow down to that single moment.
It was everything. And it was nothing like he expected.
When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dazed, you stayed close, your foreheads resting together as if you both were grounding each other.
Jake’s mind was racing, but his body felt weightless, like he was floating. He didn’t know what had just happened. Didn’t know if it was just a moment or if it meant something more. But for the first time in a long while, Jake Sim didn’t want to walk away from something. He didn’t want to pull back.
And he didn’t know how to explain it, but it scared him. More than he cared to admit.
The night of the party, you were already feeling a little on edge. Jake had invited you, and for the first time, it felt different than all the other times. There was a part of you that had been hesitating, unsure of how things were really between the two of you. His texts had been more frequent, his touches lingered a little longer, but you couldn’t shake that nagging feeling in the back of your mind.
You were getting ready when your phone buzzed—Jake had just texted to remind you about the party. He seemed excited about it, but something felt off in the way you were receiving it, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff and had no idea what would happen if you jumped.
As you walked into the party later that night, the music thumping in the background, you tried to shake off your nerves. People were scattered around, some dancing, others talking in smaller groups. You spotted Jake almost immediately—his usual confident grin, that cocky air about him, but tonight there was something different. He waved when he saw you, and his eyes lit up as you approached.
But before you could make your way over to him, you overheard Jay and Sunghoon talking in the corner, standing just out of earshot from where you were. You froze, hearing your name mentioned, and despite yourself, you couldn’t resist the urge to listen.
“Yo, Jake is really into this girl, huh?” Jay’s voice was low, but you caught every word.
“Yeah, no kidding,” Sunghoon replied, a laugh in his voice. “I mean, he’s been all over her. This bet’s got him acting like a different person.”
You felt your heart drop, but you didn’t move, too stunned to turn away. You tried to act casual, but everything inside you tensed. You could feel the blood rushing to your face, your stomach sinking.
“Are you sure he’s not faking it?” Jay asked, his voice skeptical. “I mean, it’s Jake we’re talking about. He doesn’t do ‘serious’—he’s just playing it for the win. He’ll probably drop her after.”
Sunghoon didn’t sound so sure, though. “I don’t know, man. I’ve seen the way he looks at her. It’s not like the other girls he’s been with. He actually seems invested.”
You wanted to walk away then. You wanted to ignore it, pretend you didn’t hear, but their words were like a knife twisting in your gut. The truth was, you weren’t stupid. You knew something was off. You had seen Jake be playful, you had felt the connection, but hearing his friends talk about it like it was a game… it made everything you had been feeling seem so much more meaningless.
“But it’s still a bet, right?” Jay said, the doubt lingering in his voice. “That’s what I don’t get. Is he really getting attached, or is he just playing the part? I’ve never seen him act like this with a girl. Not once.”
There was a long pause before Sunghoon replied, his voice lower now, more serious. “I don’t know. It’s Jake. Who can say for sure? But… I think he might actually care. Just a little bit.”
You didn’t stay to hear more. You didn’t need to. The damage had been done.
You took a breath, steadying yourself. You hadn’t expected this, not like this. But the pieces were starting to fall into place. Jake had been different with you—maybe more than he’d been with anyone else. The thought that this could be a game, a bet, was suddenly so clear. You couldn’t just ignore it anymore.
Your heart was pounding, but you forced your feet to move, walking over to where Jake was standing. You pasted on a smile, trying to keep your voice steady, but it felt harder than ever before.
“Hey,” you greeted him, your voice betraying none of the turmoil inside. He smiled, his usual confident grin appearing on his face. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing on the edge of something, teetering between what you thought was real and what you had just overheard.
“Hey, you made it!” Jake’s voice was light, happy, as if nothing was wrong. But something in his eyes made you pause.
Maybe it was time to figure out just how deep this bet really ran. And whether you were just part of it—or something more.
You stood there with a smile stretched across your face, but your heart was pounding so hard you swore Jake could hear it. His grin was easy, his eyes soft when they landed on you, like he had no idea you’d just overheard everything. Like you hadn’t just heard your name tossed around like a prize in a bet.
So, you smiled back.
You smiled even though your hands were trembling at your sides. You leaned in closer when he talked, nodded when he joked, even laughed—though it was a little too sharp, a little too forced. Because you weren’t about to fall apart in front of him. Not when everything finally made sense.
If this was a game to him, then fine. You’d play.
You could act too. You could flirt back, make him think he had you wrapped around his finger. You could give him exactly what he wanted—attention, affection, maybe even more—just to turn it around on him later. Just to prove you weren’t some stupid girl who didn’t know what she was getting into.
“I missed you,” Jake said, brushing your hair off your shoulder as he leaned closer to be heard over the music.
Your breath hitched slightly, just for a second. He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. You looked up at him, eyes wide and soft—just how he liked them. “Yeah?” you replied, your voice light, teasing, even though it shook at the end. “You’re not just saying that because I finally came out tonight?”
He laughed, completely taken with you. “No. I mean it.”
You didn’t know whether to believe him or not. Maybe part of you still wanted to. That was the most pathetic part. But you just nodded, playing along like everything was normal. Like your heart wasn’t breaking and piecing itself back together all in the same breath.
Jake kept talking, leaning in like he couldn’t get enough of you, and all you could think about was the sound of Jay’s voice—He’s really into this bet. And then Sunghoon’s, Or maybe it’s real.
You hated how badly you wanted that second part to be true.
But you pushed the thoughts down, deeper than they’d ever gone, and played your part. You looked up at Jake like he was the only person in the room, like your voice hadn’t just betrayed you a few moments ago. Like you didn’t feel like the punchline of some cruel joke.
Because if he thought you were falling for him—then you were already winning.
You’d play along. Smile. Flirt. Fall—just enough to make him think he won.
But neither of you realized that somewhere along the way, Jake had already stopped pretending.
The party had started to blur around the edges—music thumping, people laughing, the usual chaos of a Friday night. But all Jake could focus on was you.
You were standing by the kitchen counter, half-listening to some conversation you clearly didn’t care about, your arms crossed and your head tilted like you were already somewhere else. Like maybe, you didn’t belong in this room full of noise and people pretending.
Jake found himself watching you a little too long. Again.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to snap out of it, but the weight in his chest wouldn’t go away. The bet. The damn bet. It had been fun at first—a dumb challenge between him and Jay to see who could last longer in a relationship. A joke. Something to pass the time. But now, with you standing there looking like everything he didn’t know he needed, it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.
He pushed off the wall and walked toward you, slipping past the crowd.
“Hey,” he said, brushing his knuckles gently against your arm. You turned, a bit surprised, blinking up at him.
“Hey,” you replied, your voice still a little unsteady. You were trying to keep the act up—Jake could tell—but he didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t know that you had already heard the truth.
“You wanna get outta here?” he asked, eyes locked on yours.
You hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
Jake smiled, but something in his chest twisted.
“Cool. Just—go ahead to my car, I’ll be right there,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the front door.
You gave him a small nod and slipped away without another word, your steps a little faster than usual.
Jake exhaled, then turned around and made his way through the crowd until he found Jay and Sunghoon standing by the back patio, drinks in hand, mid-laugh.
“Yo,” he called out, stepping up to them.
Jay glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Leaving already?”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. With YN.”
Jay smirked. “You’re really committed to this whole long-game thing, huh?”
But Jake didn’t laugh. His jaw clenched as he looked between the two of them.
“I’m ending it,” he said plainly.
Jay blinked. “What?”
“The bet,” Jake said again, firmer this time. “I’m done.”
Sunghoon straightened, exchanging a quick glance with Jay. “Seriously?”
Jake shrugged, but his voice was tight. “Yeah. It’s not fun anymore. I’m not… playing.”
Jay frowned, the smirk fading. “You caught feelings.”
Jake didn’t say anything.
Jay let out a low whistle. “Damn.”
Sunghoon just nodded slowly, like he’d been expecting this. “Good. About time.”
Jake didn’t wait for more. He turned and headed for the door, his heart beating fast for reasons he couldn’t explain—not even to himself. He just knew one thing:
He didn’t want to hurt you. Not anymore.
When Jake stepped out into the cool night air, his heart was beating fast—but not with excitement, not with adrenaline. It was something else. Something heavier. Something he wasn’t used to.
He spotted you leaning against his car, arms crossed, your gaze fixed on the night sky like you were looking for answers. You looked calm, but you weren’t. You were still hearing Jay’s voice in your head—He’s really into this bet—like it was playing on loop.
Jake walked up slowly, unlocking the car with a soft beep.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low, almost cautious.
You didn’t look at him right away. “Took you long enough.”
He let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Jay wouldn’t shut up.”
You gave him a tight smile and slipped into the passenger seat, still playing your part.
The drive was quiet. The city lights passed in a blur outside the windows, but inside the car, the silence stretched. You were trying to act normal, casual, maybe even a little detached. But Jake felt it. The difference.
And maybe that’s what made him speak.
“Are you okay?” he asked, not looking away from the road.
You shrugged. “Yeah. Just… tired.”
He didn’t believe you. But he didn’t push.
A few more minutes passed before your voice broke the silence again. “Why’d you invite me tonight?”
Jake glanced at you. “Because I wanted to be with you.”
You turned to him, searching his face for any flicker of dishonesty. “Really?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I just… like being around you.”
You held his gaze for a second longer than you should have, but your heart ached. Because you didn’t know what was real anymore.
When the car pulled up in front of your place, you unbuckled your seatbelt, hand hovering near the door handle. But you didn’t open it.
“Thanks for the ride,” you said quietly.
Jake didn’t say anything at first. Then, “YN, wait.”
You looked over, and before you could ask what, he leaned in.
His hand gently found your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. His touch was warm, careful. And then—he kissed you.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t cocky or playful like you might’ve expected. It was slow. Almost unsure. Like he was feeling everything for the first time.
And for just that moment, the noise in your head stopped.
When he finally pulled away, he didn’t say anything. Neither did you.
You just stared at each other—confused, shaken, caught somewhere between a lie and a feeling that had started to feel too real.
You opened the door quietly, stepping out. Before you closed it, you leaned in just a little, voice softer than it had been all night.
“Goodnight, Jake.”
He watched you go, the echo of the kiss still warm on his lips.
And for the first time, Jake Sim wasn’t sure who was playing who anymore.
You lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding with a mix of emotions you couldn’t even begin to untangle.
Jake had kissed you.
And worse?
You had kissed him back.
You touched your lips absentmindedly, remembering the way he held you like you were fragile. Like you meant something. Like you were real.
But you weren’t falling for it. Not again.
No, you told yourself, turning over in bed and squeezing your eyes shut. You are not doing this.
He played you. He made you feel seen, chosen, like maybe—just maybe—you were special. All the soft smiles, the subtle touches, the “accidental” run-ins, the way he said your name like it was his favorite word. All of it had been leading to this. The kiss. The final act in his perfect little performance.
You gritted your teeth and swallowed the lump rising in your throat.
Never again.
You weren’t going to be that girl—the one who got strung along, who ignored every red flag, who made excuses just because he looked at her like the sun rose in her eyes. No. That girl was gone. You buried her the moment you heard Jay’s voice echo in your head: Jake is really into this bet.
This was all a game to him.
So now? You were going to play too.
You’d play the part of the clueless, lovesick girl. You’d give him exactly what he wanted—until you flipped the whole damn game back on him.
And when the time came, when he was fully convinced he had you wrapped around his finger, when he couldn’t tell the difference between real and fake anymore—you’d confront him. You’d look him dead in the eyes and tear the mask right off his face.
And maybe, just maybe, you’d watch his heart shatter the way yours almost did.
But the worst part—the most frustrating, infuriating, confusing part—was how damn convincing he was. The way his eyes softened when they met yours. The way he smiled like he meant it. The way he touched you like he cared.
He seemed so in love with you, it made your chest ache. Like maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t all a lie.
And you hated that part more than anything.
Because for one small, dangerous second… you wanted it to be real.
It was one of those rare moments when everything felt almost normal again. You’d been home alone for a few hours, scrolling through your phone, when the text from Jake popped up.
@simjyn: Hey, I was thinking of coming over. You free?”
You stared at the message for a moment, a knot of nerves tightening in your stomach. You had been trying to keep things light with him—after everything that had happened, after hearing about the bet, you couldn’t let your guard down. But part of you still wanted to see him. Maybe part of you was still pretending things could be okay.
“Sure,” you replied, biting your lip. “I’m alone, so come on over.”
Not long after, the sound of the doorbell echoed through your apartment, and there he was, standing outside with that familiar smile. He wasn’t dressed any differently from the usual, but there was something in his eyes today. Something that made your heart skip in a way you hated.
Jake stepped inside, pulling you into a quick hug before you could even react. His hands lingered at your waist, warm and firm as he squeezed you close.
“You look good,” he said, his voice low and warm.
“Thanks,” you muttered, stepping back to break the hold, though you could already feel your heartbeat accelerating.
You led him into the living room, where he flopped down on the couch with a sigh of relief, like he’d been waiting for this moment all day.
“So, what’s up?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though your heart was beating a little faster than you’d like to admit.
He grinned up at you. “Just wanted to see you,” he said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
You nodded, though the words felt too heavy in your chest to speak. He wasn’t here just for a visit—he’d been clingier lately, texting you more than usual, wanting to be around you all the time.
It should have felt nice, but it felt suffocating. Every time he smiled at you, kissed your cheek, leaned in close like he couldn’t get enough—it made your stomach churn.
“You’ve been… kind of different lately,” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, but the words had more bite than you intended.
Jake furrowed his brow, his expression shifting to something more concerned. “What do you mean?”
You swallowed, frustrated by how easily he could shift his tone. “You’re being… clingy. All the time.”
He tilted his head, eyes widening in confusion. “Clingy? I just like being around you. Is that a bad thing?”
You took a deep breath, leaning against the counter to steady yourself. You could feel the tension rising in your chest, the frustration bubbling over.
“Jake,” you began, voice trembling just slightly. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’m not some… some toy for you to mess with. I’m not a prize, and I’m definitely not some girl to play along with your little bet anymore. If you’re really into me—then fine, but if this is just some fucking joke, then get the hell out.”
His face faltered for a second, just a flash of confusion before his gaze softened, his hands reaching for you. “I—what? No, YN, I’m not playing any game—”
You took a step back, hands trembling at your sides, the anger, the hurt, and the disappointment threatening to spill out.
“I know about the bet, Jake,” you snapped, cutting him off. “I know exactly why you started all this. And I’m done pretending I don’t. I’m not going to be the one who falls for this, okay? Not when you don’t even know what you want.”
The silence that followed was suffocating, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. Jake didn’t move, his eyes wide, and for the first time, you saw something flicker in them—something that looked like regret.
But it was too late.
You turned your back on him, pacing toward the window, your heart pounding in your ears. “Just go,” you said, voice cold. “I don’t want you here. Not like this.”
“YN, wait—” he started, his voice softer, like he was trying to make you understand. “I’m not lying. I’m not playing games anymore. I—”
“Just go, Jake,” you snapped, spinning around to face him. “I don’t want to hear it.”
You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the uncertainty that had never been there before. But you couldn’t bring yourself to soften. Not when he had already crossed the line.
With one last look, Jake slowly stood up, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Then, without a word, he walked toward the door, the weight of the moment sinking in with every step.
And just like that, he was gone.
You sank down onto the couch, your mind racing. You told yourself you wouldn’t trust him again, you reminded yourself. You wouldn’t fall for it.
But deep down, there was a part of you that still wished this wasn’t the end.
Still hoped, somehow, that Jake would come back. But you didn’t trust that part.
The next day at school was chaos.
You barely made it ten steps into the building before you heard your name—sharp, urgent.
“YN!”
You stopped, heart clenching as you turned to see Jake storming down the hall toward you. His eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of desperation and something dangerously close to hurt. You froze in place as he reached you, his voice already rising.
“You knew.” His words sliced through the tension in the air. “You knew this whole time and you were punishing me, weren’t you?”
Your breath caught.
Students slowed around you. Some stopped walking altogether. You could feel the shift—phones slipping out of pockets, eyes glinting with curiosity. You tried to step around him, but Jake moved with you.
“You acted like nothing was wrong,” he went on, voice getting louder. “You smiled, you kissed me, you looked at me like—like I meant something to you.”
You snapped. “Yeah? Well, welcome to my world.”
His expression twisted like you’d hit him.
“You were playing me from the start,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered with the weight of everything. “I heard Jay. I heard everything. And I kept going, Jake. I kept smiling, kept letting you in, because I wanted to see how far you’d go.”
He blinked like he couldn’t process it, like he hadn’t thought you’d actually know.
“You—” He shook his head. “You kissed me back.”
“You made me believe it was real.”
“I didn’t fake any of it!” he fired back, stepping closer. “You think this is just about a bet now? You think I haven’t lost sleep over this—over you?”
The hallway was dead silent except for your voices. Students were openly filming now, whispering like wildfire spreading through the air.
“Jake Sim and YN?”
“She’s actually yelling at him.”
“I heard it was a bet. Is that true?”
You glanced at them, your fists clenching at your sides, your chest rising and falling fast.
“Jake Sim chasing someone like her?” someone murmured nearby. It stung. It always did.
You turned back to Jake. “You had your fun, right? You got what you wanted. Just leave it alone.”
But Jake didn’t move. His jaw was clenched, his eyes locked on you like he couldn’t look away even if he tried.
“I didn’t fall for you because of a bet,” he said quietly, voice raw. “But I might’ve lost you because of it.”
That did something to your chest. You hated it.
You hated him for saying the one thing you weren’t ready to hear.
Without another word, you turned and walked away—past the stares, past the whispers, past Jake.
And for once, you didn’t look back.
The next day, you didn’t expect to run into Jay—especially not when you were still raw, still reeling, still angry. But there he was, leaning against the lockers near your homeroom, like he’d been waiting.
The second he saw you, he pushed off the wall and walked straight up, his expression unreadable.
“Why did you chew him out like that?” he asked, no greeting, no hesitation. His voice wasn’t angry, just confused—tired, maybe. “In front of everyone?”
You froze, blinking up at him. “You’re seriously asking me that?”
Jay crossed his arms. “Yeah. Because the guy’s been a mess since yesterday. You acted like he’d—what, humiliated you? Like he was still playing you or something.”
You laughed, sharp and bitter. “The audacity to ask that when this whole thing started as some game between you and him.”
Jay’s eyes narrowed, confusion flashing across his face. “Game?”
“Don’t play dumb, Jay,” you snapped. “I heard you and Sunghoon at the party. You literally said he was invested in the bet. What else was I supposed to think? That everything he said and did was real?”
Jay went quiet for a second, then shook his head, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Wait—wait,” he said slowly. “You thought the bet was still on?”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to.
Jay exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck like the weight of it all had just hit him. “YN… Jake called it off. He called it off way before he asked you out. He told us it didn’t feel right anymore. That you weren’t just some challenge or a joke—he wanted something real.”
Your chest tightened painfully.
“No, he didn’t,” you muttered, barely audible.
“He did,” Jay said. “I swear on everything. He told us it stopped being about the bet a long time ago. That he wanted to be with you for real, no games. And honestly… we could all tell. He wasn’t faking anything.”
You looked away, suddenly cold all over. Your brain scrambled to make sense of it, replaying every interaction, every touch, every word. Had it all been real? Had he actually cared?
The guilt hit like a truck.
You chewed him out in front of everyone. You looked him in the eye and threw his feelings back at him because you thought he was still playing. Because you were scared.
Jay’s voice was quieter now. “He was falling for you, YN. He still is. But after yesterday… I don’t know if he’ll try again.”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
You just stood there, heart cracked open, with nothing to say and everything to feel.
You didn’t go to class that morning.
Instead, you found yourself sitting alone behind the school gym, knees pulled to your chest, trying to breathe through the ache in your chest. Everything felt like it was collapsing in slow motion. You were the one who was supposed to have control now. You were the one playing him—so why did it feel like you were the one who lost?
He ended the bet.
He wanted something real.
And you… you’d shoved it all back in his face, right in front of everyone. You humiliated him for something he had already walked away from—because of you.
The worst part? He hadn’t even defended himself.
He just stood there, took it, because maybe he thought he deserved it. Or maybe… because he didn’t want to hurt you anymore.
You remembered the look in his eyes—the way they didn’t hold that smug glint anymore, the way they softened when he looked at you like you were something fragile, something he was afraid to break.
And you had shattered it first.
You rested your forehead on your knees, eyes burning. You’d promised yourself you wouldn’t fall for him. Promised you’d get even. And maybe you had.
But it didn’t feel like winning.
It felt like you’d pushed away the one person who had tried—really tried—to love you, in the only way he knew how.
Maybe he messed up. Maybe you both did.
But somewhere between the lies, the games, and the dares, something real had bloomed. And now?
Now it was buried under everything unsaid.
But feelings don’t just disappear. Not like that.
So maybe… maybe this wasn’t the end.
Maybe it was the part right before you decided what kind of story this was really going to be.
here to be added to permanent tag list PART TWO OUT NOW
𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✷ sim jaeyun
❛❛ come lay your eyes on me, pretty, pretty, pretty please ❜❜
𝒢𝒞 ───── fwb texts with jake ˃˂ fem reader, suggestive, pet names ( baby, princess, pretty )
🏷️ : @eomygod @cokewithcameron @siijaeyun @honeyfewr @k-4ttiee
📁 2026.works. ╰ 📂 JAKE : SMAU/NSFW — best friend’s boyfriend!jake cheating on her with you (part6)
—. part 6 of @jaeyunsbabygirl request yall… i have rewritten this at least FIVE TIMES and im not even joking it was SO hard to come up with smth self-satisfying like……. and tbh idk if i’m fully satisfied with it… i love this part as much as i hate it but here we go cuz im definitely not rewriting it a sixth time LMAO now just know that next part is the last one soooo y’all can easily guess the ending now lol
PART 5 — INDEX — PART 7
— gen. taglist : @kristynaaah @devdozes @cupidmora @zoros-earring @fabulousarepo4 @lovenha7 @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @ajijakey @seungiesdoll @guliexe @desiree-lee @wonuziex @bunyaya @laikaonline @fatd2ki @urfavmaknae @miszes @sunooqvrlsx @astronomicalastro-blog1 @wonatlas @kittyvalr @rxmanceuntxld @boo-shalala @gordazepam @jaysguitars @kiwicup @wonkisie @ryukumi @nyfwyeonjun @strwbysunoo @miajojojo @ghostiiess @jvngw0nlvr @ccnvirz @yoanalovesyouuu @ni-kimyman4real @miamoari @neonpinkbabylonglegs @blvengene @kookieterry @h0neylemon @silvhoon @hearts4h00n @ikeufied @lawnzzn @jayjongie @only-evan @strwberrylhs @4-kia @bmbivan
SPRING CONFESSIONS MASTERPOST
DIARIES starting your spring semester, you were not expecting another new anonymous school confession page, or the boy that came with it ⋆˚࿔
SIM JAEYUN ── ⌗ brother's best friend ˎˊ˗ where jake accidentally selects the choice that makes his confession public
taglist 1 (50/50) @babyt0matoes @starrymoonstruck @ddolleri @wonxmike @miellette @parkjjongswifey @ilobhee @blackheels-jpg @rikidaze @writtenbyyoongi @ahnneyong @guppiechuu @ellushic @angeliykyk @isa942572 @yjwsgf0-0 @li-know @raven-unkind @drunkhee @nagisasugino @guerrillias @bunyaya @kkuroumi @letwiiparkjay @i-peachesandstrawberries @giyuunation @berrymingki @spideywon @tidbittygf @angelhyuka @tessa365 @areikii @tzupolo @sievenderz @simjaeyunlvrclub @jellykitti @4ngelized @yv4nn @cokewithcameron @kalospia1 @rayofsunshineeee @11sophiq @lilscast @yeosin16 @shades0fco0ll @mel-reads @hooniepits @starfallia @getoxo @baskinginvellichor
