… pwp (porn without plot), sub!jake x dom!reader, very subtle brat!jake, edging, mommy kink, petnames (baby, jakey, ikeu), implied overstim at the end hoho... 875 words & not proofread #wdlm
under the cut!
“please, please, please.”
it’s the only phrase jake seems to be able to get out, because he’s uttered it twelve times within the past five minutes alone. it’s hard for him to say anything else when your hand is moving so painfully slow that he has to blink back tears.
“you can take it, baby. ask for it nicely and i pinky promise i’ll let you cum.”
jake’s stomach tenses, his fingers gripping his shirt to the point the fabric wrinkles. he’s been holding it above his navel for the past fifteen minutes while your hand moves up and down on his slick cock. it’s so good, it’s so good, it’s so good—
“fuck, fuck, mommy—‘m gonna cum!” he squeaks out, the name falling naturally from his swollen lips. it’s so natural, in fact, that it makes him freeze. he opens his teary eyes to meet yours, but you’re already grinning in that way that tells him he’s fucked.
“mommy?”
“shut up,” he groans, tipping his head back against the headboard. your laugh makes his spine tingle and a rush of heat travel its way from his stomach to his cock. it twitches in your hand, oozing precum to make the slide easier on your hand. “please, just… keep going.”
“ask me nicely.”
“i did—“ jake knows arguing gets him nowhere. he sighs, his lips curling downward into a frown. jake pushes his hips forward into your hand, licking his lips. “please, let me cum. i’ll be real good, i promise.” his voice cracks halfway and you know he’s two strokes away from finishing.
“no, do it like before.” his brows kiss together in confusion while his glassy eyes search for some sort of meaning to it in your face. “c’mon. call me mommy.”
his cheeks were previously a pale pink shade from the heat rising in his body, but now they’d become a vibrant shade of red. he opens and closes his mouth like a fish before pressing his lips together tightly and whining. “you can’t be serious—f-fuck!”
“dead serious. go on, jakey.”
he knows you take pleasure in his embarrassment. who wouldn’t with the way the flush spreads to his ears, his lips purse together, and his eyes look at you like he’s pleading for mercy. he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as if it were trying to show off all the hickey’s you’d left on and around it.
“… don’t make me, baby.” he whispered it so softly, so sweetly, that you almost consider giving in.
but where’s the fun in that?
“i can do this all day, baby. can you?” his lips part to let out a strained moan when your hand speeds up. the slick noises of his cock are so audible it brings him shame. his head hangs, forcing him to watch as his abs contract violently from the pleasure and his cock bobs like its trying to escape your hand.
“baby, ple… oh, fuck.” jake’s head tips back and his brows pinch together. he’s devastatingly beautiful when he’s trying not to give in. “fuck, just…”
your hand slows to almost a stop, making him groan in frustration. how can you be so cruel? he wants it so bad, so bad the tears in his eyes collect at his waterline. oh, this is the best part—his lips begin to curve downward into a frown like it’ll help him hold back tears any better, the bottom one trembling. he sniffles once, twice, then whimpers. as if on cue, the tears fly down his rosy cheeks. some drip straight down to soak his shirt, others follow the route down his chin and to his neck. he’s so pretty you almost let him finish.
almost. your hand resumes its previous speed. he resumes his previous babbling. “please, i cant, i cant, i—oh, shit.”
“it’s only one word, ikeu. you can do it, can’t you?” the encouragement along with the pure need vibrating through his body is enough to make him nod dumbly, his nose tip reddening like a bunny.
“mommy, please. please, please, lemme cum, ‘m so good—fuck, fuck, oh!” he gasps, almost doubling over when you don’t stop. his hand grips your wrist so hard it might leave bruises. after all, he’s just a big strong man who lets you dumb him down.
“‘s so good… mmm—‘m gonna cum. please, can i? f-fuck!” his words are starting to slur together, his saliva pooling at the tip of his tongue. his eyes shut tightly, his hand leaving your wrist to grip the sheets.
“go ahead, baby.” it’s all he needs to hear to spill over your hand.
“mo-mommy, fuck—!” his cum dribbles over his slit, running down the side of his cock and onto the back of your hand. it happens so quickly, he doesn’t know when it started. a loud moan escapes him involuntarily, his jaw goes slack, and his head lolls back against the headboard. he doesn’t have much to give, but he gives all that he has.
he pants, his shaky hand reaching out to weakly grip yours. it’s a complete turn around from his earlier grip, like he’s now tamed. “s-stop, no more…”
“you can give me another.”
jake blinks dazedly. he’s in for a treat, isn’t he?
a/n: blair where were you!!! you all cry out in unison… i Was schooling. and then i lost the energy to write. and then bts went on tour and im ovulating… ALSO im not a mommy kink person but for some reason sub ikeu w a mommy kink speaks to me. originally i wrote this for jungkook so ntm… Jungkook i miss u.
did anyone else see that one sub!koo tiktok…. no? Ok!
Power Play pt.2 sub!boss!Jake x co-worker!dom reader (ft.jay)
CONTENT ↠ nsfw! long fiction with smut!, sub Jake, dom reader, needy sub attitude, power play, sexual tension, worship/mommy kink, toys, edging, cum denial, servitude kink, head recieving, overstimulation, premature climax, degradation play, rope, fluff and romance (what should i say i'm a romantic...),yapper Jake is my shit, feat Jay my love !!
WC ↠ 11k~
Part 2 of Power Play is here!! (Part.1 here )
It’s been two months since Jake Sim — golden manager, corporate darling, quiet wet dream of half the women in the building — officially became yours. Not yours in the polite, romantic, LinkedIn-appropriate way. No. Yours in the real, stripped-down under-the-table kind of way. Yours like : “get on your knees and don’t speak unless I let you.” Yours like: “you’ll cum when I say so — not a second before.” And he’d thanked you for it. Every fucking time. His eyes glossy, mouth open, gratitude pouring off him like sweat.
You’re dom and sub now. Officially! And the active kind, not the online-inspo-board, “I call him sir on weekends” kind. You’d made it clear from day one that if you were going to do this, it would be structured, with intention. You’re a professional after all. PowerPoint-level organization, calendar reminders, one session per week— minimum—On Friday night. Penciled between boardroom battles and email chains that could kill a man.
But somewhere along the way, it stopped being just about rules. Because Jake... Yeah, Jake freaking Sim was not just a perfect boss. And not just a needy sub begging to be ruined. He also was—and god help you— one of the cutest men alive.
You noticed it one Sunday, when he spent twenty quiet minutes fidgeting with your nails, a dumb smile on his face, while you both watched a documentary on Roman history. Then again the next week, when he curled up against you with a book in one hand and the other idly tugging at your hoodie string like a cat in a sunbeam. And don’t even get started on the nipple thing. It was endearing until it wasn’t—until one night he got so carried away stroking and pinching slowly harder and harder, that your tits actually hurt the next morning, and you had to ban him from even looking at them without explicit clearance. He apologized with a handwritten note and home somthings that looked like breakfast. You accepted.
So yes, it’s… domestic. Comfortable. The line between scenes and real life began to blur in the softest ways. Now, it’s a habit—to eat together after a particularly brutal night. To shower together and split the loofah like sinners trying to cleanse their sins. You don’t cuddle. Not officially. But he sleeps better with his head on your lap or your belly and your fingers carding through his hair... So you let him.
And at work? Nothing’s changed.
Jake is still the picture of leadership — polished, poised, too damn polite for his own good. And you? You’re still you. Frost-edged, perfectly put together, politely untouchable. But now, he belongs to you. Which makes things easier. Especially on days like today.
Days like this.
flushed like he’s about to combust, back to the wall, eyes wide. You’d texted him mid-meeting, one line, no emoji.
You’ve got four minutes, meet me in the west wing bathroom...
Women’s
And he obeyed. Because he always obeys. He slipped in like a shadow, breath already shaky, pupils blown wide with anticipation.
You follow heels sharp on the tile, sliding the lock with a metallic click that might as well have sealed his fate. You don’t speak. Just turn around and corner him, pressing close — so close your chest brushes his tie, your perfume curling around his brain like a noose.
“Pants,” you murmur, voice soft but razor-sharp.
He obeys. Too fast. Belt unbuckled, zipper down, trousers around his knees. You catch a glimpse of the tip — flushed, already leaking. Boxers thin and helpless, no barrier at all.
And then you lean in.
Your hand slides between you — slow, casual — until your palm cups him through the fabric. And god, he whimpers.
Your fingers flex around his cock, pressing, not stroking — just reminding him who owns it. Who decides what he gets, and when. He jerks in your hand like it’s the first time anyone’s ever touched him.
You lean closer, lips against the shell of his ear, and smile.
“You think I brought you in here to suck you off like you were good?”
He twitches. “I—I thought—”
“Oh, baby,” you purr. “You’re so far from good.”
From your bag, you pull out a device — a sleek little ring of black silicone and a small chrome design, smooth and sexy. Jake recognizes it immediately. His breath stutters. He looks like he might cry from hope.
“Boxers off.”
They hit the floor instantly.
You kneel, slide the ring over his cock and balls in one practiced motion. And he gasps high and wrecked, nearly collapsing against the stall door. Then you reach into your bag again and lift your phone — screen glowing, the app already open.
His eyes blow wide.
“You’ll wear it through the rest of the day,” you say, tapping the setting labeled 'steady pulse', watching him twitch in real time as the gentle hum starts low. “Meeting starts in ten. If you can hold it together...”
You glance up from beneath your lashes, smile wickedly.
“Dinner’s on me.”
He blinks, almost breathless. Gasping at your finger working the app.
“And tonight,” you whisper, licking your lips just to fuck with him, “you can ask for anything.”
He nods too fast, “Anything?”
You smile.
“Anything your little broken brain can think of, mr. Sim.”
You kiss the tip of his cock, just once to tease him. Enough to make him moan through his gritted teeth.
“Then pull it together,” you whisper, stepping back. “And fix your pants. You’re late.”
Then you leave him there, red-faced and straining, cock caged, soul on fire.
And at 4:05 sharp, Jake Sim enters the conference room with his tie too tight, his glasses perfectly straight, and his eyes locked on the PowerPoint like it’s the only thing keeping him from whimpering.
And you? You take your seat across from him. And just before the first slide clicks onto the screen, you reach for your phone.
Tap.
And watch him flinch. Like he lives for it.
Jake lasts.
Somehow.
Through the entire finance review, even when you tap the “pulse” setting mid-sentence while asking for clarification on Q3 projections — his voice hitching slightly, just enough for only you to notice.
He even makes it through the all-hands. Barely. Sweat beading at his temple, legs clenched tight, knuckles white where he grips his own wrist under the desk like he’s seconds from buckling. You watch him like a hawk, occasionally flicking your phone open just to see that tiny icon still glowing in the corner of the screen. Active. Synced. Steady.
At one point, you accidentally hit the "randomized wave" setting while stirring your coffee. His pen snaps. Just cracks in half, ink bleeding onto his neat notes, a quiet fuck under his breath that no one but you hears.
By the end of the day, he’s twitchy. Soft-eyed. Glazed.
The moment 6:04 hits, your phone buzzes.
🕛 Mr.Sim Jake (Work):
I’ll wait in my office Please
No “Miss.” No punctuation. Just that one word, begging inside its own silence. Please.
You don’t respond. Just close your laptop, smooth your blouse, reapply your lipstick like you’re heading into a negotiation — because in a way, you are. He thinks this is his reward. That he’s about to be used, broken, maybe allowed release if he grovels right.
But you’re not done yet.
You step into his office without knocking, and what greets you nearly makes you laugh.
Jake Sim — polished, professional, always composed — is on the fucking floor.
On. The. Floor.
Suit jacket gone, tie loose and twisted, hair disheveled, pants unbuckled, boxer-briefs pulled taut around his thighs, cock flushed violently red and still caged in that perfect black ring. He’s clutching the carpet like it’ll ground him, gasping, hips twitching like he’s on the edge of a nervous breakdown.
And the second he sees you?
He looks wrecked. Worshipful. Pathetic.
You shut the door behind you and tilt your head like a curious cat.
“You couldn’t even wait on your feet?”
“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— I just— I can’t—”
You wave a hand. Dismissive. “No time for that, baby. I still have work.”
He blinks, like you slapped him with math.
You walk past him — slow, commanding, letting your heels click like a countdown to chaos — and sink onto the couch near the side wall, crossing your legs as if you’re just here to decompress.
From your bag, you pull a slim folder of papers.
“Come here,” you say, tapping the floor in front of the coffee table. “You’re still my superior, aren’t you? Gotta review these before I file.”
Jake crawls.
He actually crawls.
And kneels beside the low table, hands resting obediently on his thighs, lips parted as if he might start panting again. His cock twitches visibly in its ring — red, aching, wet at the tip. You ignore it.
Open the folder.
“You’re going to validate each paragraph for me, Mr. Sim. Verbally.”
He nods quickly.
You start reading aloud. Slowly. Bored, almost.
“Based on the Q2 metrics, we project a 12.4% increase in productivity following the onboarding of—”
“Yes,” he breathes.
One paragraph down.
You scroll your thumb across your phone. Vibrations hum through him.
Next one.
“The reduction in turnaround time aligns with adjusted expectations from last quarter—”
“Yes—” he gasps. A little too breathy.
And then you flick to a new setting. One you’ve been saving.
You hit “Voice Sync Mode.”
Jake twitches violently.
“Oh, right,” you say casually, tapping again. “Almost forgot. New feature. Vibrates based on… voice modulation. Funny, huh?”
You lower your tone, let it dip low and rich.
Jake bucks. Just slightly. Eyes wide, mouth open.
“Say yes for this one.”
“Yes,” he moans.
It triggers again. His hips stutter.
You keep reading. Keep your voice smooth, varied, slightly sing-song in parts just to fuck with him. Every line, every syllable — translated into chaos below the belt.
And he starts losing it.
“Yes,” he pants after every paragraph. Louder. Shakier. More breath than voice now. His hands twitch off his thighs, one dragging toward his cock before he jerks it back with a choked sob like he knows the rules.
By paragraph five, his voice cracks. By seven, he’s humping the air — subtle at first, then not. His head drops to your thigh like it’s the only safe place left on Earth, and he starts rubbing his cheek there. Like a cat in heat. Like a man desperate for grounding in a world that’s unraveling by the second.
You keep reading.
“Final page. If you can make it through—”
But he can’t.
He shudders.
One strangled, broken cry leaves his throat, and you feel the warmth of it — the twitch, the helpless thrust — and then he’s gone. Cumming in his briefs, thick and shameful, whimpering into your thigh, his whole body trembling like a fault line.
You don’t say anything.
Just gently stroke his hair.
Let him breathe.
Let him twitch and shake and sigh into the afterglow like a man who just gave up every ounce of pride he had left and didn’t even want it back.
And when the silence settles, heavy and warm, you finally speak — voice soft, back to that dangerous kind of care that feels more intimate than any orgasm ever could.
“You tried your best,” you murmur, brushing his hair off his forehead. He nods against your leg, ruined.
“Good boy.” Another whimper.
You glance at the clock. Pick up your folder.
“I’m heading home,” you say lightly, gathering your things. “Sleep. Hydrate. Lock the door if you’re gonna clean up here.”
And then you left him there kneeling, soaked, still wearing your ring, like the good little office pet he is.
You couldn’t play on Saturday.
Not because you were too busy, or tired, or felt the shift in the weather deep in your bones — though the forecast did have the nerve to threaten rain just as you left the office. No. You couldn’t play because Saturday, in some inconvenient act of cosmic irony, was your birthday.
A day you kept quiet. Deliberately. Not out of shame, or fear of getting older — god, no. You wore your age like you wore everything else: sharp, polished, with just enough bite to make people hesitate before asking anything too personal. You didn’t need celebration. You had plans to do absolutely nothing. Maybe a glass of wine. Maybe an orgasm. Maybe both at once. Alone.
But Jake, your painfully attentive, painfully eager, painfully good boy Jake… caught on.
You didn’t tell him.
He just knew.
And on Sunday, he asked if you’d still be willing to play. But — and this was where it got suspicious — he asked if you’d have dinner with him first. “Before the session,” he said, too casually. “Just us. I’ll text you the address.”
You agreed. Not thinking much of it.
Until you got there.
Until your heels clicked down the pristine marble hallway of a hotel that had no business being that opulent on a Sunday evening, and the concierge greeted you by name.
Until the elevator opened onto a private suite, and the door — already slightly ajar — creaked open with a whisper.
And there it was.
The dining table, perfectly set beneath dimmed golden lights, with soft music curling through the room like warmth in smoke. Low candles. A bouquet of white orchids. A bottle of red you’d once mentioned liking, twice, months ago. And at the center of the table — a cake. Small. Elegant. Iced in cream. With a single candle.
Jake stood by the far wall, hands behind his back, nervous in a way that didn’t suit him — cheeks pink, eyes flicking toward you like he’d been rehearsing this and still thought he’d fuck it up.
And then.
He sang.
Voice soft, slightly off-key, barely above a whisper — like it wasn’t meant to echo off the chandelier or the crystal glasses. Just for you. Just between the two of you.
Happy birthday to you.
You blinked once. Then again. A breath caught somewhere near your collarbone.
He smiled when he finished. And when you didn’t respond right away, he stepped forward, one hand awkwardly lifting the cake toward you like a shy waiter on his first day.
“It’s got that cream you like,” he said quietly. “Not too sweet. Just—like you.”
And you laughed. You had to. Because this man, this man who moans at your feet with your heel on his throat, just called you not too sweet like that was a compliment.
The dinner was incredible, of course. Not because of the food — though it was excellent — but because of him. Because Jake was attentive in a different way tonight. Still soft. Still sweet. But a little... lighter. He let himself be funny. Made you laugh twice so hard you had to cover your face. His hands trembled when he refilled your glass.
And when dessert came — after the cake, after a gentle toast, after your walls had lowered inch by inch without you realizing — he handed you a gift box.
Long. Sleek. Heavy.
You opened it, and froze.
Thin, stiletto-pointed, patent black high heels.
The expensive kind.
The fucked-up expensive kind.
The kind you’d once pointed at in a store window, laughed, and said, “The only way I’d justify those is if I was allowed to use them to stomp on someone. Otherwise, that price tag is a war crime.”
Jake hadn’t forgotten.
“I remembered,” he said, eyes wide and proud and so goddamn hopeful. “I know it’s kind of dramatic, but you—you said it. And I thought maybe…”
You raised a brow.
“You bought me shoes so I’d step on you?”
He flushed. “N-not just that. I mean—yes. But also… I thought you’d look good in them.”
You stared at him. At the shoes. At the man sitting across from you in a tailored shirt and a slightly shaky smile like he just handed you his throat in a velvet box.
And then you laughed. Low. Delighted.
“Oh, Jake,” you sighed, sliding one heel out of its bed of tissue paper. “You’re so easy.”
His breath hitched.
“You want me to try them on?”
He nodded. Fast. Almost trembling.
So you did. Slowly. Letting the heel dangle on your finger like a weapon before lifting your leg, extending it toward him under the table.
He didn’t even have to be asked. He slid to his knees beside your chair and took your foot in both hands — reverent. Careful. Slipping the shoe on like a prince in a fucked-up fairytale, except he was the one being ruined.
The heel clicked against the floor when you set it down.
He shuddered.
“Do the other,” you murmured, tone already turning silkier, darker.
He obeyed. You leaned back in your chair, legs crossed, watching him fumble slightly with the strap, his breath shallow, fingers lingering just a little too long at your ankle.
You reached down — ran your fingers through his hair, soft and slow — and he melted into the touch like you’d blessed him.
“You’re so predictable,” you whispered, dragging a nail against his scalp. “You see me in new shoes and your first thought is: God, I hope she steps on my cock with them.”
He whined. Whined.
“You’re disgusting,” you added, voice lowering to that tone that made him squirm. “And I’m going to ruin you for thinking you deserved them.”
His eyes fluttered shut and his lips streached in a soft smile. But your fingers didn’t stop stroking. Didn’t stop soothing.
They moved gently through Jake’s hair — soft little passes, nails grazing his scalp. And he leaned into it without thinking, without pride. Just instinct. Like his head was meant to be there, pressed against your thigh, like your hand had become some sacred thing in his world—the thing that settled him, grounded him, reminded him he was owned.
You watched him breathe.
Watched the rise and fall of his shoulders, the trembling hush in his chest — like he couldn’t tell if this was aftercare or the beginning of something worse. And quietly, without words, something warm started to bloom beneath your ribs.
It wasn't just the usual heat and lust. Not the thrill of control you usually fed off of. No, this was quieter, closer to peace. And it wasn't the first time the past two month...
Like, somehow, this— the candlelight, the new shoes, his mouth against your thigh— was exactly where you were supposed to be.
You almost thought it aloud... But no... Nevermind...
Instead, you hummed softly and let your other hand trail down to his cheek, tilting his chin up so he is forced to look at you. He did. Of course he did. Eyes wide and glassy, like something holy had cracked open inside him and spilled out right onto the hotel carpet.
“Remember what I said on Friday?” you murmured. “About rewards?”
Jake blinked, dazed. “Y-yes." His lips parted.
“I said if you were good, you could ask for anything.”
He nodded quickly, eager, already breathing faster.
“And tonight?” You smiled. “You were very, very, very good. Jake.”
Jake’s breath caught, fuck he loves it when you drop the mr. Sim act.
His hands— those shaky, fidgeting, obedient sexy hands— lifted toward his own lap, smoothing his pants like he was trying to behave, trying to stay calm, but already failed. His gaze dropped. He tried to keep eye contact, you know, tried to stay confident. But the moment you gave him permission— real permission— to speak his wants out loud?
He cracked.
“I… um… if I’ve really been good,” he whispered, voice a little pitched, “C-can I…” He hesitated. Swallowed, his eyes on your thighs adjusting himself like it prevented you from seing his hard on.
“Can I eat you out again? it's been ages... I want to make you cum, like before. But like, now. On the floor. Or the couch. Or the bed. Wherever. Please—I'll be good, I promise.”
You raised an eyebrow, and smile streached.
“Is that your first wish?” He nodded hesitant. But then his mouth opened again.
Of course...
“And maybe—maybe I could wear the collar? While I do it? Like... Just the collar and nothing else... Like your—your birthday toy.” Y-you can even put me on a leash if you want— please, I’ll be good, I won’t hump your leg unless you let me—”
You bit your bottom lip, just to keep from smiling even more. Man, his brain had slipped its leash the second you gave him permission. It made you wet straightaway.
“And can I… can I touch myself? Not cum, just—just stroke while I do it. Just feel how hard I get from tasting you. And when I finish, you don’t even have to let me cum, you could just—just spit in my mouth and call me your good little fuckhole—”
You didn’t answer. Just kept petting his hair. But he can read you better than you do to him. You don't realise how turned on your face is. Even your grip on his fluffy hair got harder. Fuck, Jake loves you.
Yeah... I love you. Jake bit his lip.
“Or—or you could make me jerk off onto the floor while you watch, and make me beg to make love with you. Like I’m disgusting. Like I don’t even deserve your attention unless I earn it—Or maybe… if I’m really good—”
He stop.
You press your fingers to his lips and he trailed off, eyes fluttered. slidding your finger inbetween his shy plump lips. It was like even saying it was too much. Like he didn't already write the whole fiction of tonight in his head.
“Tell me, Jake.”
He looked down again, cheeks flushed, voice almost too small to hear.
“Can I... Call you Mommy tonight?”
Silence. Tense. Heavy. Drenched in anticipation.
"I know it's not really your thing..." he blabered, "But I was wondering—if maybe... We could try tonight.
Then—
You leaned in, brushed your thumb over his bottom lip, and smiled.
“Oh, my cute puppy,” you purred, letting the word drag like honey down your throat. “You’re going to get everything you asked for.”
He whimpered. Like the word alone undid him. His breath came hot and shaky against your palm. His eyes looked up at you, fully gone — feral, hungry, a little stupid with need. Like he wanted to crawl inside your skin and beg for permission to exist there.
You sank back into the chair like it was your throne — one leg draped over the other in a lazy cross, elbow resting along the back like you had all the time in the world, like you weren’t already wet just from the look on his face — and without a word, you lifted your foot, the sharp new heel catching the light as it hovered by his lips, until he opened up like a trained thing and started mouthing at the pointed tip, desperate, reverent, like kissing your shoe might earn him oxygen.
“Jake, take off your clothes.”
He scrambled.
Shoes. Shirt. Pants. Everything peeled off with frantic sexiness, like each layer was an offense to the role he was meant to play — until he was kneeling there, naked and flushed, chest rising fast, ears pink, cock already half-hard from nothing but the sound of your voice.
And fuck, his body — God, his body — lean and sharp like he was carved from something meant to bleed for you, muscles smooth but defined, not bulked but taut beneath skin that showed every line, every ridge, every twitch. His back, deceptively broad, flexed as he shifted onto his knees, and you caught the way his arms looked almost too toned for someone who claimed to be helpless— the way his veins ran like threads of promise down to those shaking, obedient hands. And when he reached into his bag— of course he brought it, because your good boy always comes prepared— and pulled out his collar without being asked, you nearly sighed, because it was all too much.
Too perfect. Too fucking yours.
He held it out like an offering. And you put it on him. You dragged your heel along his shoulder. He shivered.
“You wanted to worship Mommy tonight?”
He nodded, mouth agape. “Then come show me, be a good dog.”
And when he crawled forward on hands and knees — panting, eyes blown wide, mouth open — you knew : You were going to let him have everything.
Because you loved seeing him like this, loved it... Your game... You... loved him ?
Maybe...
He reached your knees. And then he groaned. Loud and wrecked.
Your panties — soaked. He buried his face in them immediately, moaning into the fabric, licking you through it like he’d been starved for days and finally stumbled upon a feast. You stayed still, head tilted, watching him degrade himself with quiet fascination.
And then he used his teeth — gently at first, then not — dragging the lace aside, tearing holes in the delicate fabric just to get to you, to taste you raw, no barriers, no patience.
The moment his tongue touched your pussy, he let out the most pathetic sound — a sob disguised as a moan — and you saw it in his whole body: the way his arms trembled, the way his shoulders rolled forward, the way his hips twitched helplessly against the carpet.
Like worship was killing him.
He licked with hunger first. Frenzied. Like he couldn’t get enough. His mouth moved fast — messy circles, tongue flattening, then curling, lips sucking at your clit with zero grace. No rhythm. Just need.
You almost laughed. “Jake,” you breathed, threading your fingers into his hair. “You’re making a fucking mess.”
“M’sorry,” he panted. “Tastes too good. Can’t stop—can’t—”
You yanked his head closer in answer. “Don’t you dare stop.”
And he didn’t.
He buried himself deeper, tongue working in tighter, sharper patterns. He found rhythm then. Purpose. His hands came up, gripping your thighs, spreading you open wider. He let your heel rest against his shoulder, the other curling behind his neck like a leash, and you let yourself fall back against the couch with a long, low moan — head tipping, mouth parting, hips beginning to twitch.
You were close. Too close.
And he felt it. The tension in your thighs. The way your breathing shifted.
So he slowed.
The fucking bastard slowed.
“Jake,” you growled, but he just hummed into your clit, tongue drawing soft little circles now — featherlight. Infuriating. And then, just when you were about to command him again—
He sucked. Hard.
You came.
Fast. Violent. A sharp, hot surge that slammed into your spine and rolled through your body like a goddamn earthquake. You moaned, bit your bottom lip to keep from crying out, hips stuttering against his face as your hands fisted in his hair like you were drowning.
And he didn’t stop.
Not for a second.
He groaned into your cunt like it fed him. Like your orgasm gave him oxygen. He sucked through it, licked every aftershock, every twitch, every whimper that escaped you. And then — when your thighs trembled and your hips tried to retreat — he shifted.
One hand — previously gripping your thigh like a man clinging to salvation — slid down.
Between your legs.
And without asking, without hesitating, he pressed two fingers against your soaked entrance, teasing first, just circling — and then he shoved them in.
You gasped — hard.
“Jake—”
He curled them immediately. Like he knew. Like he’d memorized the blueprint of your body and knew exactly what would shatter you. He didn’t give you time to adjust. Just fucked his fingers into you fast and deep, knuckles slick with your first orgasm while his mouth stayed latched to your clit, sucking like a man possessed.
Your body jolted — thighs trying to close, hips stuttering against his face, your hands flailing for something to grab, anything — the armrest, his hair, your own wrist.
“Jake, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” he mumbled, voice low and hot and buried in your cunt. “Let me. Please, Mommy—let me make you come again.”
And fuck, you did.
The second orgasm ripped through you — louder, messier, wetter — your walls clenching around his fingers as he kept driving them into you, his palm slick, heel of his hand grinding against you as you moaned so hard it felt like you might pass out.
"Holy fuck—" you cried, legs spasming.
But he still. Didn’t. Stop.
Your voice broke. "I said stop—"
He pulled back from your clit for one second, just long enough to moan against your folds, "I'll make you feel good—"
Then went right back to it.
His fingers curled harder now, precise, brutal. Three now — you didn’t even know when he added a third — but you felt it. Deep. Full. Your body couldn’t tell where the pleasure ended and pain began, everything smearing together into one long, mindless scream that echoed through the room as your third orgasm crashed into you like a fucking freight train.
You shoved him off, finally — heel pressing into his chest just enough to make him stumble back, fall onto his ass, panting and glassy-eyed and soaked with your slick. He blinked up at you like he didn’t even know where he was.
You were still shaking, legs trembling from the overload, breath ragged. You sat there — limp, fucked, worshiped — and stared at the man who’d just made you come like that with nothing but his tongue, and fingers and a death wish.
You’d never felt this safe. This powerful. This wanted. And he crawled back forward. Pressed his cheek to your thigh. Didn’t say anything. Just breathed against you.
You reached down and pulled him into a kiss — wet, sloppy, tongue-first and desperate, all teeth and spit, and god, he melted into it. Of course he did. You were still soaked from what he did to you, thighs a mess, cunt twitching with aftershocks — and he was the one trembling.
You pulled back and let your palm curl around his cock, rough and flushed and leaking across your fingers like it had been hurting for attention. He hissed when you touched it, and then groaned — loud, helpless — when you dragged your heel down, pressing it gently at first into his balls before slowly, firmly, crushing down.
“Mm. You look like you’re suffering right there,” you murmured, voice all syrup and sin.
He nodded, panting through clenched teeth.
“Is eating me out really getting you this excited?” you purred, cocking your head like it actually surprised you.
He nodded again. Hissed when you pressed harder with your heel. “Yes, Mommy—fuck, yes—it’s so much, I can’t—”
You let go of his cock.
“Touch yourself.”
He froze.
“I didn’t say you could cum,” you added lazily. “But I want to see you do it. Look at you. A grown man on the floor, balls bruised, begging for permission to jerk off in front of the woman who just came on his face.”
Jake’s hand moved fast — too fast — and you could already tell he was on edge. He gripped himself tight, started stroking, sloppy and aching, cock bobbing under his own frantic rhythm. But his eyes were locked on you.
You leaned back, legs still spread, panties ruined somewhere under the couch, slick still glistening on your thighs.
And you smirked.
He whimpered.
“Oh, god—” he gasped, jerking himself harder. “Please, just—just watch me—watch me, Mommy, please, I want you to see me—”
You raised a brow. “Why?”
He blinked. Swallowed.
“Say it.”
“Because—” he choked, “because I look pathetic—and… you’re still so perfect and I’m just here, jerking off on the floor like a freak—”
You tilted your head, letting your gaze drift over him slowly, from his flushed face to his slick stomach to the veins in his arms flexing with every stroke.
“You think I’m enjoying this?” you asked flatly, voice bored. “You think I want to see you make a mess of yourself like some shameless animal?”
He moaned.
“I—I hope s—”
“You hope so?”
He bit his lip. His hand never stopped. He was panting now, eyes burning into your body.
“And you like being watched?” you asked. “Even like this?”
He nodded, voice breaking. “I like when you see how bad I want you. How stupid I get. I-I-I want you to know what you do to me. I want to look at you and see your thighs and your cunt and your attitude and know I’m not allowed to have any of it—unless you let me.”
You hummed.
“And what do you want me to do to you, Jake?”
His eyes glazed over. “Everything—” Hips jerking.
“No. Be specific.”
He whimpered.
“I want you to hit me when I cum—open palm, across the face, hard enough that I feel it later. I-I-I want you to spit in my mouth again, like last time, and tell me I’ve earned it. I want you to put that heel back into my cock until I’m shaking—until I can’t move without permission. I want you to laugh when I beg, call me pathetic, make me say what I am. I want you to choke me—tight—long…hng… Long enough that I have to ask to breathe—and wh-when you let go, I want to thank you. I want your slick on my face, dried down my neck, smeared over my mouth like a collar—and I want to sleep in it. Don’t let me clean up. Make me keep it…”
You watched him stroke harder, hips twitching, spit almost sliding down his chin from how hard he was panting.
“I want you to ruin me and then hold me after… I…. Want to make you cum again and again until I cry. I want you—to never… Never stop looking at me.”
You leaned forward. And he shuddered. You didn’t say a word. Just watched.
And when he came — loud, messy, too fast and too much — he cried your name. again. and again. and again.
You reached down and pulled him into a kiss — wet, tongue-first, needy. Sloppy and lost. And he melted. Of course he did. His mouth opened instantly, like instinct, like prayer. His lips were soaked from your cunt, and yours still tasted like his worship, so the whole thing was just spit and sin and heat. He groaned into it, soft and broken, like the kiss alone was enough to undo him.
You were still a mess — slick between your thighs, muscles twitching from the high he forced out of you, panties ruined and forgotten — and yet he was the one shaking.
shit it felt good !
You broke the kiss first, dragging his bottom lip between your teeth until it snapped free. Then your hand dropped — right to his cock. Hard. Leaking. Angry-red and trembling in your palm like it had been hurting for you. You curled your fingers around it with practiced ease, thumb smearing his mess along the head just to make him whimper.
And then your heel dragged between his legs. Slowly.
You pressed into his balls — lightly at first, then firmer — until he gasped, jaw tightening, hips frozen like he didn’t know whether to rut forward or flinch.
“Mm.” You let your voice drip with amusement. “You look like you’re suffering right there.”
He nodded fast. Too fast. Shoulders tense. “Yes, Mommy—yes, it hurts—but it’s so good—I need more—please—”
You gave his cock a lazy stroke. Nothing to write about but enough for him to jolt.
“Is eating me out really what did this to you?” you murmured. “Made you this hard?”
He nodded again—practically whining.
“Mommy, it’s you, it’s always you—I get like this when you look at me, when you talk to me—fuck, fuck, fuck, even your voice makes my cock hurt.”
You smiled. Let go.
“Touch yourself.” He froze.
“You don’t get to cum,” you added, like an afterthought. “You cum without permission, and I walk out of this room. Leave you like this. Understand?”
He nodded, mouth open, eyes wet. “Yes. Yes, Mommy.”
He reached for himself instantly—like he’d been waiting hours for that command. His hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking hard, fast, filthy. His other hand trembled on his thigh, like he didn’t know what to do with it. His whole body was tight, twitching, sweat glistening down his chest and veiny arms. You could see every muscle working just to keep himself upright.
But he was looking at you. Your body, your gaze. Never looked away.
You leaned back into the couch, legs still spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. Slick still shone between your thighs. You didn’t say anything. Just watched, and played with the sound your own wetness.
Jake moaned immediately. “Please—please keep watching—please, I—I want you to see me like this—”
“Why?” you said flatly.
He swallowed, hard.
“Say it.”
“Because—because I look like a mess,” he whimpered, stroking faster without thinking. “Because I look fucking pathetic, and it’s only for you—you did this to me—your pussy, your voice, your fucking eyes, everything—”
You tilted your head.
“You think I enjoy watching you jerk off like some pathetic little mutt on the floor?”
“I—I hope you d—” he gasped. “maybe I hope you don’t—maybe I hope you think I’m disgusting. Because I am, Mommy. I’m a disgusting pervert for you. No one else gets to see me like this. No one can. Just you—Just you.”
You exhaled slowly, like you were watching an experiment spiral into something deliciously ugly.
“And what do you want me to do to you, Jake?”
His hips jerked forward like the question alone hit his prostate. “Everything,” he moaned.
You narrowed your eyes. “No. Be specific.”
He looked up at you like he was about to cry.
“I want you to slap me when I cum,” he whimpered, “hard. Across the face. Make me feel you for days. I want you to spit in my mouth again—please, like last time—while I’m begging. I want you to wear those heels and step on me. Make me thank you while you do it. Tell me I’m nothing. Laugh when I fuck you and swear to me.”
His stroking grew faster — slick, loud, hips twitching like he was fighting to stay in his body.
“I want you to choke me until I have to ask to breathe,” he gasped. “And when you let go, I want to thank you. Like a good boy. Like your property.”
He was shaking now.
“I want to sleep in your slick. Face coated in it. Neck wet. Chest marked. Don’t let me wash it off—please, I want to wear it. Like a collar. Like a proof.”
You said nothing. Just stared. And he broke.
“I want you to ruin me. And then hold me after. Kiss my forehead like I’m not broken. Make me make you cum again until I’m crying from how much I need you. Mommy, I swear to god—” he sobbed, “no one else can do this to me. It’s you. It’s always been you. I’m think of you—your body, your voice, your pussy—I want to live under you—”
your thighs were twitching. His breath was ragged. His whole body trembled like it was about to shut down.
“Please look at me when I cum,” he begged, “please—please see me—please, I need you—”
You nod and almost moan in your breath, And he came.
Loud. Raw. A broken, choked sob of your name as cum spilled over his knuckles, painting his abs, his thighs, the floor. He kept stroking through it, messy and wild, eyes locked on yours even as tears welled up in them. He looked wrecked. Ruined.
He cried out again. Your name again. and again and again. Whispered like a prayer, repeated like a compulsion — quieter each time, like he couldn’t stop saying it, like it was the only thing left tethering him to reality. And when the last of his orgasm spilled over his wrist and onto the floor, his body simply… slumped.
Collapsed at your knees now closed.
Shaking, silent, mouth open but not speaking anymore — breath coming in little broken bursts as if the air around him had gotten too thin. And for a moment, you just watched him. Not as a dom. Not as a goddess. Just… watched the boy you adored fall to pieces in front of you.
Then you moved. You slid down from the couch to the carpet, kneeled in front of him — with him — and reached out. He flinched at first, not from fear but fragility and maybe self consciousness.
But you cupped his face anyway. Held him gently, thumbs brushing across his hot, damp cheeks, and leaned in to press a soft kiss just under his eye.
“Shh,” you whispered, voice low. Warm. Real. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.” Jake’s eyes fluttered shut. His body leaned into yours like gravity had given up. And then — quietly, barely audible — he sniffled.
“I’m sorry,”
You froze. “Why?”
He swallowed hard. Still wouldn’t open his eyes. “For saying too much. For… being too much of a sub.”
You pressed your lips to his forehead. Then his temple. Then his cheek.
“You weren’t too much,” you said, kissing between words. “You were honest. Perfect. Mine.”
He whimpered— a small, broken sound— and then his arms wrapped around your waist, so tight, so desperate, like he didn’t care about the mess or the sweat or the fact that he was naked and half-crying on a hotel room floor.
You held him. Stroked his hair. Kissed behind his ear. Whispered things only he was allowed to hear.
“My good boy.” “My perfect thing.” “You did so well for me.”
Minutes passed like that. Or hours. You weren’t sure. The quiet felt infinite, like the world had shrunk down to the warmth of two bodies pressed together under dim light and the soft scent of sex and sweat and trust.
Eventually, he pulled back — reluctantly — just far enough to look at you. His eyes were sleepy, still red. But he smiled, small and exhausted.
“…Can we—” he hesitated. Bit his lip looking at you. “Can we sleep here?”
You raised a brow. “We don’t have anything packed.”
“I know.” He blinked. “I just don’t want you to leave. Not tonight. I wanna fall asleep with you... Please.”
You looked at him for a moment. Then nodded.
“Okay,” you said softly. “But first, let’s clean up.”
Jake followed you wordlessly to the bathroom, still trembling a little, wide-eyed like he couldn’t believe you were really going to stay.
The water ran hot, steam blooming fast as you stepped under it together — skin on skin, sticky and marked, your bodies pressed close in the quiet rush of heat.
You reached for the soap, lathered slowly, and started with his chest.
He gasped — not from the temperature, but from the way you touched him. Like he was something precious. Something yours.
You washed him soft. Careful. Thumbs running down his ribs, lips brushing over his shoulder once, twice. His hands stayed on your hips like he didn’t know what else to do — until you turned, smiled lazily over your shoulder, and offered him the bar.
“Your turn.”
He took it like a gift.
And then his hands were on you — warm and slow, fingers sliding over your skin like he was worshiping you in silence, like rinsing the sweat and slick off you was the most important job he’d ever been given. He kissed your neck. Your shoulder. Your lower back. You felt it in your knees.
By the time the water turned lukewarm, he was panting softly behind you, hard again without a word spoken, cock brushing your thigh like a question.
You didn’t answer it. Not yet. You just turned, kissed his cheek, and whispered, “Bed.”
And he followed you, lifting you, dripping and obedient, like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.
He didn’t let go of you, not even when you reached the bed. You both collapsed into the blankets, half-covered in nothing but the weight of each other.
And then — quiet giggle in his chest, warm kiss on your neck — Jake tugged you closer. And called your name.
You smiled into his collarbone. “Hmm?”
“…Can I fuck you sweet?”
You looked at him. He looked nervous. Flushed. But serious.
“…Not rough. Not a scene too. Just… I wanna make you feel good. Wanna be in you. Close.” His eyes did that triangle thing that made you smile.
Ans your heart did a weird thing in your chest. You didn’t say anything, just kissed him. Slow. Deep.
He slid into you like it was meant to happen in silence. No teasing. No commands. Just soft hands and warm breath and your legs curling around his hips, pulling him in like he belonged there— Oh he did.
You moved together like something practiced.
His forehead pressed to yours. His eyes never left your face. It wasn’t the kind of sex that left bruises. It was the kind that stayed under your skin for days.
And when you both came — whispering each other’s names, holding on like sleep might take you too soon — you didn’t bother separating. Just tangled yourselves up tighter under the blankets, legs and arms everywhere, breath syncing until the air went quiet.
Jake fell asleep first from exhaustion . Still inside you. Face tucked into your neck, hand resting on your hip and over your head, smile barely there.
And you followed. One last kiss to his hairline. One last thought, whispered only in your head.
Maybe I love you, Jake.
🕰️
Monday came too soon.
The city clicked back into motion like it hadn’t been on its knees three nights ago — like you hadn’t spent the weekend riding high on power and orgasm, like Jake Sim hadn’t buried his face between your thighs and cried your name like it was a gospel, like nothing in your bed had shifted something irreversible between you. But here you were. Blazer sharp. Hair tied up like a noose. Coffee in one hand, to-do list in the other. Face clean. Voice calm. And Jake?
Jake was perfect. Of course.
Golden manager. Corporate fantasy. Tie straight. Shoes polished. Smile polite, crisp, neutral — as if he hadn’t begged to sleep in your slick two nights ago. As if his mouth hadn’t broken you open like prayer.
He passed your desk at 9:02. On time. Silent. But his eyes flicked toward you — fast, hot, reverent — like he was starving for permission to even look.
Yeah. Not subtle.
The week dragged. Deadlines. Briefings. Emails that made you want to cry. A dozen little brushes of Jake’s arm at meetings, a few too-long looks across the conference room. Nothing said. Everything felt.
And then Wednesday came. And Jay walked in like a plot twist.
Jay — from the international branch. Jay who hadn’t changed a bit except in jawline and confidence. Tall, lean, just the right amount of cocky, with that you-can-trust-me grin and rolled-up sleeves that said he wasn’t here to play humble. You knew that walk before he even reached your side of the office. And you smiled before he even said your name.
“Holy shit,” he laughed, arms open, warm and loud and exactly the same. “Is that you?”
You stood to greet him, surprising the whole office, and for a second it was easy to forget anything else existed.
Jay had been your twin at your first job — the only rookie who matched your speed and fire, the one who helped you learn the ropes while you taught him how to cheat the system without getting caught. You’d shared too many late-night reports and too many energy drinks in parking lots to pretend this wasn’t real.
You hugged. Tight. No hesitation. His hand curled behind your neck like he’d missed you properly. “Good to see you.” he whispered.
“I didn’t even know you were stationed here,” you said into his shoulder.
“Temporary,” he replied, pulling back, smiling like trouble. “Two weeks. Project lead on cross-regional integration. Had to say yes when I heard who was running one of the teams.”
You rolled your eyes, grinning. “Still charming.”
“Still bossy,” he said, looking you over with a spark you didn’t bother flinching from. “God, you look good.”
Across the room, Jake watched the whole thing, leaning on a co-worker desk for a review. And if there had been a heart rate monitor clipped to his tie, it would’ve flatlined.
To everyone else, he looked as normal as the rest of this office watching. But his jaw was tight. His hand had stopped scrolling his subordinate mouse. Because Jay wasn’t just some regional project lead— he was Jake’s old friend. One of the few people he trusted, who knew things about him from years ago, who used to sleep on his couch in between overseas rotations and share shitty bar ramen and management rants.
And now he was here. Shaking your hand. Pulling you into hugs. Looking at you like he’d found something. And worse — you looked happy to see him. Not performative-happy. Not polite. Actually happy. You leaned in to talk. You laughed, like… Twice.
Jake couldn’t hear the conversation. He didn’t know Jay had just told you that Jake was famous in the international branch — that half the floor still referred to him as “the one who doesn’t fuck up.” He didn’t know that you’d laughed and said, “He’s still like that,” or that you’d softened when Jay said, “Honestly, I’m not surprised you two haven’t killed each other. You always scared me a little more than him anyway.”
Jake didn’t know that your giggles weren’t flirtation. They were about him.
All Jake saw was the closeness. The familiarity. The way Jay’s hand brushed your arm when he made a point. The way you didn’t flinch. The easy rhythm between you. And then, just to gut him further, Jay turned around during a meeting break and dapped Jake up like a brother.
“Still as stiff as ever,” Jay said, grinning, leaning against Jake’s desk like no time had passed.
“Still can’t read a brief without fucking the formatting,” Jake shot back. They laughed. It was real. Jake wanted to be happy to see him.
But his eyes kept flicking past Jay’s shoulder. Back to you. Because even if Jake and Jay were old friends — you and Jay looked like something else.
Jay invited the team to dinner that Friday. Said it was casual. Team bonding. International-branch hospitality. You said yes before Jake could even pretend to be indifferent. Like postponing your session was nothing.
Jake sat through the rest of the week in silence. Smile plastered on. Voice tight. His keyboard clicks a little too sharp. His jaw clenched every time Jay walked past your desk.
It wasn’t that he thought Jay was a threat. It was that you seemed… open around him. Relaxed. Familiar. The kind of open Jake had only seen when you were half-naked, straddling his thigh, calling him names while riding his face.
And now?
Now you were laughing at another man’s joke. Jake spiraled. Quietly. Painfully.
🕰️
By the next wednesday morning, Jake was unraveling like a ribbon since you texted him.
Cannot make it this week… Let's wait for next friday, mr. Sim
Mr. Sim ?? Mr. Sim ??
You called Jay by his first name even in the office. Joking about his korean name, in team dinners. But even in texts Jake stayed “Mr. Sim”, if it wasn’t a scene you never called him Jake. If it wasn’t in a bedroom, never let him touch you like Jay did.
He was mad.
Oh, he hid it well — always did. The tie still sharp, the voice still calm when he led meetings like a man who hadn’t spent the week watching you share private smiles with someone who knew you from before he did. Someone you hugged without hesitation. Someone who called you by your first name with that easy kind of familiarity Jake had only ever earned through submission.
You weren’t ignoring him. Not really. But you weren’t touching him either. No texts. No sexy glances. No little cruel reminders of what he was to you. Just distance. Controlled and professional. Like the weekends together hadn’t happened.
And Jake? Jake was starving for the leash. And your presence, he missed the intimate you.
So when the elevator opened that morning, and you stepped in, followed by two project leads and someone from HR, he took his chance.
Jake slipped in last. Stood at your side. And said nothing, even after exchanging cute eye contact with him.
The numbers ticked up. Floors grew away. One by one, everyone stepped out.
Until it was just… You and him.
He stepped closer. Just a little too close. You didn’t turn to look at him. Not yet. Cause recently it had been hard on you pretending you weren’t in love with him. Pretending in front of his long time friend and yours there was nothing between you two. But you felt it — his body tight with restraint, his breath catching just a little louder than it should.
“I-I don’t care if you don’t want me recently,” he said, voice low, barely audible.
Your brows lifted about to turn around but he leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear.
“You’re still my Mistress.”
You turned then, expression unreadable.
He didn’t flinch. He exhaled. And then—he took your hand. Just your fingers. Slipped something cold and small into your palm and curled your fingers shut around it.
A key. You stared at it. Felt the weight.
“Friday can’t come fast enough,” he whispered, voice shaking just a little now. “It’s already hurting. I can’t stop thinking about you. I put it on last friday night. Haven’t touched myself since. Not even once.”
Your eyes snapped to his desperate, hot, worshipful bulge he made you palm, moaning to the contact of your unsure fingers, his forehead falling on yours.
He almost smiled — a little unhinged.
“I locked myself for you. Because I needed to remember. Because I needed you to own me.”
The elevator chimed. He stepped back. Straightened his tie. Smoothed his jacket.
Turned to you like he hadn’t just dropped a live grenade into your hand.
“I’ll be waiting until you want me again Mistress,” he said, voice calm again, composed. Just a touch sad.
Then he walked out. And left you there. Alone. With the key to his cock clenched in your fist.
And the knowledge that he’d caged himself for you, for days, just to suffer in silence until you decided he was worth your attention again. Fuck only holding it made you wet.
🕰️
Jake caught Jay by the coffee machine an hour after that— late enough in the day that the fluorescent lights made everything look a little harsher, even your name in conversation.
“Hey,” he said, low, casual. Actually not casual at all. “You and… her.”
Jay turned slightly, brow raised. “Yeah?”
Jake swallowed. “You’re not—” his voice caught, and he rolled his shoulders, tried again. “You’re not trying to… go for her, right?”
Jay blinked, the idea of playing his naive ass dying after one second of thinking, then he smiled — not sharp, not smug. Just knowing.
“Nah, man. She already said no.”
Jake stilled.
Jay took a sip from his paper cup. “Told me she’s into someone else, a complicated situationship.”
That should’ve settled it. Should’ve made something inside him untwist.
But it didn’t.
Because Jay glanced over his shoulder, toward the open floor where you stood— and added, tone lower now, not cruel, just honest:
“If it were me, I’d stop hiding behind roles and secrets and all that shit going on and just tell her. Straight up.”
Jake didn’t move.
Jay looked at him again. “She’s into you, bro. That’s obvious… From what I understood.” He clapped Jake’s shoulder once — firm, not teasing. “Only thing left is whether you’ve got the spine to stop waiting for her to drag it out of you.”
🕰️
Fuck.
Jay was right.
This thing between you — the structure, the sessions, the rules he clung to like they made him safe — it was never meant to hold forever. It worked because it was clean. Controlled. Because you both pretended it didn’t mean more, didn’t bleed more. But Jake had already gone too far, and every time he knelt, every time you touched his jaw and made him beg like something sacred, he fell harder into something that wasn’t just powerplay anymore — it was love. Messy. Real. Suffocating.
And now?
Now he couldn’t stop thinking.
What if you started dating someone?
Would he still get his sessions — or would you say it wasn’t “appropriate” anymore?
Would you let him keep watching you from across the meeting room — or would he have to pretend you were just his superior again, like you hadn’t screamed his name while grinding on his face four nights ago?
Would he be allowed to touch you? At all? To kiss your ankle while you read? To hold your thigh under the table just because he needed to feel you?
Would lazy Sunday mornings in bed be cancelled — would the books, the wine, the home-cooked meals and terrible documentaries turn into someone else’s life with you?
Would he still be allowed to look at you the way he did?
To smile at you like you were the only thing that had ever been his?
Or would you pull away the next time he leaned in?
Would Jake go back to “Mr. Sim”?
Would your voice lose that edge when you said his name?
Would you take your laugh with you? Your eyes? Your mouth?
That smug little smirk when you wore heels that bruised his ribs and made him say thank you for it?
That cold, commanding tone that shattered him?
That soft, dangerous warmth when you licked his tears off your knuckles after he came shaking in your lap?
What if it all disappeared?
What if he lost not just the kink — but you?
All versions. The hard one. The gentle one. The funny, brat-taming, snack-sharing, throat-grabbing, book-reading, leash-holding, rule-breaking you.
What if he lost the one person who saw all of him — and didn’t flinch?
What if he had to start calling you “miss” again, just to keep from saying mine?
No.
He wasn’t going to survive another week of pretending. Not another goddamn day of acting like giving you his body wasn’t also handing you his heart.
It had to be tonight.
He texted you one line, with a pin to the address:
“Come here tonight. 9PM. Please.”
You arrived right on time.
And the address — when you reached it — wasn’t a hotel. Wasn’t a suite. Wasn’t the clean, clinical setting where you usually got him on his knees and made him sob.
It was a house.
His house.
You blinked.
Then walked in.
Jake opened the door like he’d been pacing behind it for an hour — sweater soft, hair undone, eyes wide and helpless and shining like he had no idea how you were going to respond to any of this.
The first thing you noticed was how expensive everything was — the dark wood, the subtle lighting, the quiet warmth of real money used by someone who didn’t need to show it off. The second thing was his dog — tail wagging, greeting you like you’d been here a thousand times before.
The third?
Family photos.
Jake as a kid. In school uniforms. With his mother in Seoul. With classmates. With some awful international branch birthday cake, and that smile — the smile, just smaller, softer, untouched.
You turned slowly. Took it all in.
He watched you like a man watching a dream walk through his bedroom.
“You like it?” he asked, unsure.
Your answer was in your eyes — in how slowly you moved, in how carefully you touched the edge of a frame, in the way you smiled and looked back at him for detailed comparaisons.
“You’ve never let me in here,” you said. “That's… New.” you smiled.
“Yeah,” he murmured. That was the problem. he thought.
Dinner was tense. Not because anything was wrong, but because everything was shifting — plates warming your hands while your eyes stayed fixed on his face, red wine sweet on your tongue while you waited for the dam to crack.
Jake broke first. “It’s not homemade,” he said, sheepish.
“Unless you want to end up in the hospital.”
You laughed. And then — you turned to him, voice like a knife sliding in slowly.
“Are you really wearing it?”
He swallowed. His jaw twitched. Then he nodded half looking at your reaction.
“I bought a smaller one,” he whispered, like it hurt to admit. “The one that hurts when I get hard.”
You didn’t blink. Just tilted your head, like the predator you were.
“And when did you?”
Jake leaned forward, voice raw, fingers twitching by the number of times he passed them through his hair before hiding in his palm?
“Monday,” he said. “When you wore the heels I gave you” then he whispered, “I remembered the way they left marks on my back while I tasted you— I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was hard all day… It ached.”
You crossed your legs, slowly. Grin flickering.
“Wednesday, I saw your thighs,” he added, faster now, like he couldn’t hold it in. “Bare under your skirt — just a glimpse, but I kept wondering where they stopped. If they were warm. If they were sticky with someone else’s mouth.”
Your breath hitched, but your face didn’t change.
“T-thursday,” he said, almost breathless, “when I saw you smile at Jay, and I wanted you to snap. I wanted you to pull me by the collar and spit in my mouth in front of everyone just so I could feel claimed.”
And then softer.
“Y-yesterday… I thought about kissing you in the hallway. About grabbing you and just… giving it away. Not caring who saw. Not hiding anymore.”
You let it hang.
Then:
“What?”
Jake’s hands trembled.
“I was jealous,” he said. “You looked so comfortable with him. Like he was allowed to see parts of you I only get when you’ve got your hand around my throat. And I couldn’t say anything — because I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not your partner. I’m just the guy who comes when you tell him to. If he’s lucky.”
You leaned in, voice cool and soft.
“And?”
He met your gaze like it burned.
“And I thought maybe… I wasn’t worth more. That everything I’ve shown you — the crying, the leash, the begging — maybe that made me… disposable.”
Silence.
Heavy.
You stared at him like you were looking at something precious. Fragile. Real.
Then you smiled.
Blush blooming over cheekbones, hidden behind the wine glass.
“What should I do, Jake…” you said, low, sultry, devastating. “You made me too ruined to date anyone else now.”
Jake made a sound. Half-sob, half-laugh, and really looked at you, your validating beautiful eyes. Then, he stood. Walked over. Grabbed you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he waited one more second.
And kissed you like it hurt.
“I love you,” he breathed against your lips. “I’m in love with you.” He kissed again, “I’ll give you everything.” kissed again, “I’ll let you ruin me for the rest of my life and beg for more, I swear.”
You laughed in his embrace and looked at him with sudden dare.
“Prove it Jake.”
He stripped for you like he was peeling away fear itself. and you did the same messily kissing.
Quiet obedience. Until he stood naked inch from you, flushed, forehead against forehead, trembling, cock caged and faintly purple, swollen from days of frictionless ache. It looked smaller, pulled tight by metal and denial. Beautiful in its own way — his way. His whole body looked like it was waiting for permission to feel again, all veiny and hot.
You dropped to your knees.
Unlocked him with the little silver key.
And the second the cage clattered to the floor, he moaned — not from pleasure. From pain. His cock sprang out — red, angry, twitching like it didn’t know if it was free or dying.
You reached forward, wrapped your hand around it, and he came instantly.
“F-fuck—Hng, no, no, no—I’m sorry—I’m sorry—please—” he gasped, whole body convulsing, cum spilling down your wrist in helpless pulses. “I didn’t mean to—it’s been d—I didn’t want to—please—”
You smiled. God, you loved it. all cruel and loving on him.
“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, rising to kiss his cheek. “That was just the appetizer.” And he kept coming with slow strokes on your thighs now like it was his first time.
In his bedroom, you tied him up with smooth, sure hands— wrists to headboard, thighs wide, legs restrained too with ropes he prepared— and then climbed on top of him
He was still trembling. Still leaking. Still whispering your name like he couldn’t believe you were real.
And then, just when he thought he might get softness —
You leaned in and blindfolded him. And your voice made him tremble.
“Jake,” you whispered, brushing your lips along his jaw. “Do you think Jay would’ve made me scream like you do?”
His breath hitched. You grinned.
“Do you think he’d eat me better than you?” you asked, tongue flicking against his earlobe as he twitched under you. “Would he cry when I ride his face? Would he beg for my spit too?”
Jake whimpered. His cock jerked. You pressed down harder against him.
Moaning in the most outrageous way.
“Would he fuck me better than the boy leaking into his sheets right now?”
“Stop—please—no,” he gasped, face trying to find your lips with shame and heat.
You laughed. Gently.
“Then make me never want to find out,” you said. “Be a good boy. Show my pussy, Jake.”
And he did. You pulled on the ropes and realized him.
He fucked you like a man possessed. Getting inside your wetness in one go. Like a man breaking out of something. Like he’d die if you didn’t keep screaming his name. He thrust with raw need, face twisted in love, in agony, in fucking reverence.
He came again. And again. Still hard. Still inside you. Still trying to earn you with every snap of his hips. His cum painted your thighs, your cunt, your stomach — you didn’t want to stop. And he didn’t stop.
“I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you[...]” He kept moaning on your lips, in your neck, mouth at your tits.
And when he finally collapsed into you, ruined, panting, completely undone? You kissed him and whispered :
“I love you too.”
🕰️
You did it on the floor next.
Then against the wall.
Then the window. Then the shower. Then the kitchen table while his dog slept soundly in the living room like nothing sacred was happening in the next room.
No rules. No safe words. No games.
Just “I love you” in every thrust, every bite, every knot of fingers in hair and bruises bloomed in the shape of home.
You didn’t fuck like dom and sub that night . You fucked like people who’d been starving for each other in plain sight — and finally broke the lock.
MASTERLIST
Thank you so much for reading Part 2 of Power Play I rushed this one out early just for @ri4-lovesenha, @raven-unkind & @bambiihee I promised, more sub!Jake 💗 Our sub!Jake and boss x co-worker chaos has officially evolved—now it’s not just a dom/sub dynamic... it’s real romance too💗
I’d love to hear what you thought, so don’t be shy—drop your feedback, scream with me, anything!! P.S. Yes, Part 3 is already in the works… get ready !!!
xoxo
"jake’s eyes blink open, making eye contact with you through the mirror before his eyes find himself, taking the sight in. his hair tousled, face painted a lovely shade of pink, glistening from the sweat, and his cock that was leaking all over your hand and onto the bedsheets. he almost can’t believe his eyes, can’t believe that he can look so pornographic."
fem!reader x jake, porn without plot, light choking, handjobs, teasing, marking, there’s a mirror, multiple orgasms, praise, begging, light nipple play, puppy!jake
note from luna: first enha fic and yes, it is of my bias. hopefully everyone enjoys reading as much as i enjoyed writing (˶˃ ᗜ ˂˶)
“shit…” jake breaths, his head tilting back to rest against your shoulder.
you had him sat on the bed, legs spread, with his t-shirt hanging loosely around his sweaty neck. you watch as a tiny bead rolls down it, almost tempted to lick it up.
“mmph, p-please.” jake gasps, jerking his hips up into nothing. you’re positioned behind him, also on your knees, massaging every part of his body you could reach.
jake being pretty much sensitive everywhere is an advantage to you, a single caress from you could have him melting and pleading in seconds. you weren’t even anywhere close to touching his cock, touching anywhere but, yet there’s already a pool of precum on the sheets below him.
“please, what?” you whisper into his ear, gently biting on it. jake’s breath hitches at hearing your voice, so seductive and close to him, almost tickling him. his hands are fisted into the sheets, arms feeling like jelly and hardly holding him up.
“more, please touch me more,” he begs, looking up at you with his beautiful eyes. “i’ll do anything if you just give me more.”
you oblige, only to an extent, a sucker for when he looks at you like that. you slowly run your fingertips over his shoulders and down his arms. moving across his chest and briefly brushing past a nipple, jake arching into the touch with a tingle down his spine.
you attach your lips to his sensitive neck, lightly sucking on the skin so it leaves behind a hickey. jake starts panting out breaths, his eyes squeezing shut as he squirms in his spot, his cock bobbing uncontrollably. his moans are almost nonstop, raising in pitch the longer you suck.
“fuck me.” he huffs, becoming impatient with your teasing. he drops his head and reaches a hand down to between his legs, wanting relief from his aching hard-on.
you watch him and right before he could wrap his fingers around himself, you gently tug on the shirt around his neck. jake’s hand pauses in mid air and he gasps at the slight, sudden pressure on his throat.
you pull his head back, his brown eyes wide and blinking up at you, an apology already on the tip of his tongue. you speak before he can get his words out,
“did you ask if you could touch yourself?” you question, letting go of the shirt and opting to brush the wet strands of his hair sticking to his forehead. jake sighs at the touch, shaking his head no and resting his hand on his thigh.
“‘m sorry, i wasn’t thinking. i just want to feel good…” he whispers.
“needy puppy just couldn’t help himself, hm?” you tease instead. jake rapidly nods his head with a moan at being called his favorite pet-name. it draws your attention to his lips, wet from all the licking and damn near drooling he’s been doing and you can’t help but want to kiss them.
“mhm, just a dumb puppy when you touch me.” he agrees. you hum in agreement, guiding his head further back, his back curving to follow your movement. you lean down and press a quick kiss to his lips, jake eagerly chasing after you with a whine when you pull away. with a smirk, you kiss him again deeper this time, forcing his mouth open with your tongue.
he leans into the kiss, moaning into your mouth the angle making it slightly messy and wet. only parting ways to allow yourself to remove jake’s shirt fully, now bothersome to you as you want to reveal more of him. his whines from having your lips on his anymore quickly turn into whimpers as you latch yourself there, leaving more reddish-purple marks along the freshly exposed skin.
no matter how much the pleasure got though, jake refused to even attempt to touch himself again. instead he’d just buck into the air with a sweet cry, or the occasional shout when you bit just a little harder than he’s used to.
“please… can you please touch me there now?” jake whispers once he can’t stand it anymore, his cock red and hot from being denied for so long. the puddle larger than when you started from where he still leaks.
“touch you where love?” you ask just to wind him up more, peaking over his shoulder and watching as another bead of precum rolls down the tip when you softly pinch his nipple between your fingers.
“please, you know where. just touch me.” he frustratedly whines, thrusting his cock up into nothing, his way of saying what he wants. you smile and wrap an arm around his waist and run your fingers down it, softly grazing your fingernails up and down them. you feel as he tenses and shake every time you get closer to his cock and his breathing deepens, watching as your hands tease him.
“you mean here?” you ask, catching him off guard by suddenly grabbing his cock. using your thumb to rub over the wet and sensitive frenulum, causing jake’s breath to hitch and uncontrollably thrust his hips into the touch.
“yes, f-fuck yes!” jake practically cries. you laugh and stroke once just to watch jake’s face turn into one of pure bliss at finally getting what he wants, his brows furrowing before dropping his head from the intensity, loud moans pouring out.
you slowly stroke him, smoothly gliding over his cock with the copious amounts of precum that drip down it. you are sure to rub the sensitive tip with each stroke down, jake shuddering every time to your amusement. each stroke leaving behind obscene wet sounds that fill the room along with jakes’ filthy noises.
“is this what you wanted, hm? what you were begging me for?” you purr, already knowing the answer but just want to watch jake struggle to find his words. purposely stroking faster each time jake tries to speak, choking on his words.
“god yes, feels s-so good..” he manages to moan out, voice cracking towards the end of his sentence. you can only smirk at the broken reply, basking in the way that his body reacts to every little thing you do to him, the control you have over him.
his head cocks back towards you, landing on your shoulder once again on a particularly rough stroke, his eyes pressed shut in absolute bliss. “feels so good, please don’t stop..” he mindlessly chants, almost faint if he wasn’t right by your ear.
you look up and do a double-take at the mirror you recently bought, sitting in front of the bed. you look back at jake with an idea. gently, you take jake’s chin into your unoccupied hand and drop his head towards said mirror. the image is lewd, way his face looks, the way his lips are parted spilling out all kinds of sounds just for you. the sight leaves a throbbing feeling down below.
“look at yourself love. i’ve hardly done anything to you, yet you’re so ruined.” you murmur, watching him through the mirror.
jake’s eyes blink open, making eye contact with you through the mirror before his eyes find himself, taking the sight in. his hair tousled, face painted a lovely shade of pink, glistening from the sweat, and his cock that was leaking all over your hand and onto the bedsheets. he almost can’t believe his eyes, can’t believe that he can look so disheveled.
“’s too embarrassing…” he whines, shutting his eyes and shoving his face into the crook of your neck and hiding from himself. he can’t get the image of how he looked out of his head though, cock twitching in slight interest.
however, as soon as his eyes close, you stop touching him. he immediately whines against your skin, moving his hips in attempt to feel good again. to his dismay, you use your other hand to hold his hip in place in which jake huffs, “why’d you stop, please keep going.”
“i said look at yourself.” was your only reply, stern enough that it was all that needed to be said. jake whimpers before turning back towards the mirror, his breathing comes quick as looks at himself again.
“you’re so pretty jake… so good for me,” you whisper in his ear while making eye contact with him through the mirror. he shivers and his cock pulses at the praise. slowly, you wrap a hand around him and start stroking him again, keeping a teasing pace that you know will drive him mad. “don’t you agree, aren’t you pretty?” you question.
there was no fight when he nodded in agreement, “yes, so pretty for you,” he whines and his eyes start to flutter shut as the pleasure starts to build again from the compliment. you squeeze his cock in disapproval, earning a choked breath from jake.
“ah ah, keep those pretty eyes open for me,” you purr. his eyes fly open, immediately locking eyes with you in the reflection. “unless you want me to stop?” you finish quirking a brow, pausing your hand where it rests on the base of his cock and squeezing it.
“no, no please keep going. i won’t close my eyes, promise.” he pleads, eyes watery and hips trying to chase the pleasure he was feeling. you hum and hold him to his word and also keeping your word and stopping if his eyes start to flutter.
“good boy, you’re doing great.” you praise, bringing your other hand up from his waist, up his stomach, to his chest where you fondle his perked nipples.
jake loudly gasp, the touch bringing him to the edge and he immediately starts sighing out a string of apologies. you didn’t understand what for until you feel his body tense up and warmth as he cums all over your hand.
“’m sorry, ‘m s-sorry, i didn’t mean to cum…” he babbles after he starts to come down, his head to fuzzy after such a strong orgasm. you examine his face in the mirror where you find his eyes closed, lashes wet from the tears that lined them.
“cumming without permission and closing your eyes…” you tsk. jake jumps coming, his head clearing enough for him to realize his eyes were in fact closed and opening them to the displeased look on your face. before he can begin apologizing clearly, you stroke his sensitive cock with no remorse. jake yelps, twisting his body in an attempt an escape the intense overstimulation.
“wait- p-please ‘m sorry… please.” he chokes out between moans, moans that settle between pain and pleasure and he’s not sure which to fall into. the sensitivity is almost too much, fresh tears spring to his eyes and falling against his flush cheeks.
“you just couldn’t help yourself? is that what you’re going to say?” you mock, bringing both hands onto him and ruthlessly bringing him towards another orgasm. as much as jake wanted his body to run away it, he was chasing it, wanting to keep feeling good. so good.
“i- i couldn’t. it felt too good, you’re too good…” he cries. the pain turning to desire as he starts to move his hips. desperately, he fucks into your hands and you don’t even have move them, using your fists to his hearts content.
“’s too much, too much … fuck.” he whimpers aimlessly, words slurring together. he’s so far gone in arousal, he doesn’t even realize he’s the one moving, movements getting sloppier as he gets closer to cumming. his eyes glued shut and his fingers digging into the flesh of his thigh, lips slick with saliva and red as he keeps biting down on them.
you can’t help but to take it all in, how good he looks completely ruined from your hands. how noisy he gets whenever he feels too good. you shift into a more comfortable position as your shorts have gotten progressively wetter as you watch jake wreck himself.
“i-i think ‘m gonna cum..” jake pants, looking at you for approval. he just looks so pretty, a complete mess from a little handjob that you can’t bring yourself to deny him. he’s trembling, using everything he has to hold back his orgasm until you give him permission, how cute.
“cum for me,” you whisper. jake preens and whispers small thank you’s, driving his cock into your grip. his breathing is almost erratic as his orgasm builds to the peak. drawling out praises in his ear, leading him on.
“fuck, i’m gonna - i’m cummi-” he announces, before hiccuping on his words. his whole body quivering as he cums for the second time, more intense than the first. he thrusts his hips roughly into your hands, spraying hot cum everywhere. endless moans streaming out as he rides out his orgasm.
he eventually comes back down, hissing when he pulls his cock from your fists, his breathing slow but heavy and his hands finally releases his clutch on his thigh. he left behind little fingernail imprints from how hard he held on. he swallows, mouth dry from the nonstop noises and opens his eyes to look at you with a dopey smile on his face.
“i don’t know how you always manage to fuck me up like that…” he says with so much admiration in his puppy eyes.
you laugh, pressing a kiss to his sweaty temple. jake contentedly hums, pressing his weight against your chest, getting comfortable and you know that you’re going to be here a while.
cw : SMUT MDNI, sex, mentions of cum, mean dom y/n, bondage, spitting in mouth, oral (f), bigdick!jake, crying, handjob
wc : 280
a/n: my first post, i rlly hope u guys like it! pls support me by reblogging/giving me any feedback you'd like!
sub!jake who can’t help but whine into your plush tits as he ruts against your pretty pink panties, which have an obvious wet patch on the front.
sub!jake who literally starts drooling when you’re riding him–your swollen breasts bobbing in his face–poor baby can’t help but salivate at the sight of them.
sub!jake who accidentally moans “...m-mommy” while he has his face buried in your pussy, your fingers tightening around his soft brown curls–making him whine in pleasure.
sub!jake who lets you tie him up with your prettiest pink ribbons and tease his dripping red cock, til he starts sniffling and tearing up like a lost puppy.
sub!jake who secretly loves it when you cover his mouth with your hands when he’s moaning too loud… “shut the fuck up jake” or “be quiet for me, hmm?”
sub!jake who literally listens to anything anyone says. especially you. someone tells him to button up his shirt on live? done. you tell him to get on his knees and stick his tongue out so you can spit in his mouth? he’ll obey immediately.
sub!jake who literally can’t hide being horny. flush starts to creep up the line of his throat and his pants miraculously become five sizes smaller than they were a minute ago. on the outside he's a softie, but in his jeans he’s a monster.
sub!jake who unironically whimpers when you lightly brush up against his chest, or when your hands linger on his thigh.
sub!jake who cries. literal tears start streaming down his face when he needs to cum. he’ll beg for that sweet release–his cock twitching madly against your palm.
pairings: sim jaeyun x reader (gender not specified)
synopsis: your boyfriend tries to hint his specific kink
genre/format: textfic, crack, suggestive
warnings: lowkey sub jake (are we surprised), reader doesnt give a gaf sometimes, pet names (baby, angel, another one you will find out), kinks, vulgar language, nothing crazy this is tumblr bro you’ll be okay i promise🥺
bella’s notes: long time no see guys i missed your notifications🥺🥺💕i have seen a lot of your requests and i’m trying to work on some but i’m kinda slow rn so bare with me pls😬😬ALSO WHO IS HYPED FOR HEESEUNG’S FIRST SINGLE??
if i know you irl don’t mind this juseyo😕don’t make me call my ubereyo😕
Genre: Non-idol, Sub!Jake, Fem,Dom!Reader, College AU
Warning! pillow princess Jake, light drug use, unprotected sex, p in v, light swearing, overstimulation, teasing, petnames, whining, mouth on Jakey's princess parts
Synopsis: College boyfriend Jake sees a couple's challenge online and wants to try it with you after your endless petty fights about who has better self control. But poor baby doesn't know how hard he's gonna get hit by the drug.
WC: 2066
Thursday nights had always been your's and Jake's sacred night, a night which allowed you guys to bask in each other's presence after a hectic college week. Fridays were your free days which meant that you guys could do whatever you wanted without the fear of having to be up early for any college commitments.
Tonight was no different, the Thursday of your last semestral week. This meant that assignment submissions had been continuous and finals were coming up soon. This also meant that the past weeks had been mutually agreed upon to be used to lock-in, allowing you guys to be productive yet still enjoying each other's company.
However, with the last week of school being finally over, Jake had suggested a stress reliever day this Thursday before you attempted to use your last few brain cells to cram all the required info for your upcoming exams.
"Ready for tonight baby? I have a game I wanna try and I'm sure you're gonna loveeee it"
Jake whispers into your ear while you were sat shoulder to shoulder with him in the school's cafeteria. You smack his thigh under the table, eyes quickly scanning your friends surrounding you to make sure that nobody had heard what he said. Jake laughs at your skittish response, getting up from the table to throw your trays so that you could go to your final class of the day.
Before you knew it, your day was over and you were sitting at the dining table in your shared apartment with Jake, eating take your favourite chinese takeout while you guys checked up on each other's day. As soon as your containers were cleared, Jake pulls out a thin box onto the table.
"Are these...watermelon flavoured chocolates?"
You read the packaging while your face scrunches up in disgust.
"These sound like an abomination to society. Why the hell would you buy these Jake...?"
You loved your boyfriend, but seriously, in times like these, you really questioned if everything was working right up there. Jake smiles cheekily, letting out a shy chuckle.
"Okay FIRST, these are not just ordinary chocolates, these are aphrodisiac chocolates. I was thinking we could play a game to see who would cave in first since you were SO certain that your self-control is better than mine. Which I promise you, it is NOT. Secondly, they were half off on the website, what did you expect me to do!!"
Jake whines as he takes the chocolates - could you even call them that - out of the box. He takes one square and breaks it in half along the pre-cut line and offers it to you.
"Yeah, with a diabolical flavour like this it's no wonder they couldn't sell it. Who even thought of this nonsense? And might I remind you of how many times YOU jumped me because YOU have, in physics terms, NEGLIGIBLE self-restraint Jakey"
You scoff as you grab the chocolate out of his hand, chucking it into your mouth. Jake stares at you intently as he does the same, face full of determination to prove you wrong tonight. He walks over to the couch to turn on Netflix, scrolling through the selection to put on a random R21 movie. You roll your eyes at his attempt to break you down but you knew eventually, it would be him begging on his knees for your touch by the end of the night.
About an hour into the movie, a steamy scene finally comes on. Both characters on the screen are in a fully intense make-out, tongues darting into the other's mouth, completely devouring each other after a dinner night out. While you start to feel wetness pooling between your thighs, the effects of the aphrodisiac slowly starting to take place, you don't think much about. Truthfully, your mind was not fully in the present right now, stuck on the endless amount of studying you would have to do in the next week.
Slight deep breaths and pants rouse you out of your semi-daydream state. You turn to your right to see Jake, plump lips held between his teeth and his eyes dazed, like he was imagining you and him on the TV instead. It was at that moment that you feel his hand clutching at your shirt, his arm around you starting shake as he starts feeling restless. You smirk to yourself, taking this time to tease him a little.
"What's wrong Jakey? You seem a little distracted, don't like the movie? We can do something else if you'd like..."
You place your hand on his, soothing his knuckles in an attempt to get him to unclench from your shirt. By now, the actors on the screen were fully naked, going at it strong and passionately on the couch, both too heated and desperate to even make it to the bedroom before starting their activities. You glance down to see Jake's hard on bulging so profusely, you swore you could see it throbbing through his sweats.
"No, no love, I'm fine, just feeling a bit...warm..."
You shrug your shoulders and mutter out a "suit yourself" before getting out from his side to grab a cup of water from the kitchen. As soon as his arm leaves your body, his head shoots to the side, reaching out to you again to hold you back.
"Where are you going..."
He whines out as he pulls you back into him.
"I was just gonna go get some water. You know we didn't really set down some game rules. With the way you're holding on to me right now, I think it's best if you just cave baby."
Jakes eyes stare into yours, sparkling with tears that were threatening to fall any second. The tent in his pants was harder than ever, having started hurting more than half an hour ago. But his pride couldn't handle the big hit it would take if he were to pounce on you.
"I...just stay here please, need to feel you..."
His arm around you was the only thing keeping him sane right now, desperate to sneak in a rub just to soothe himself, but he knew better. He could imagine the smug smile that you would have over your victory and in that moment, it felt like protecting his ego was more important than rubbing it out.
"Jake...if your hurting, just tell me already hmm..."
You bring a hand up to caress his face, it almost seemed like the drug was affecting him tenfold than it did to you. His pushes his face into your palm, your touch calming him even though your fingers were far from where he wanted them right now.
"I just, why is it affecting me more than you..."
Jake remains relentless in giving up control, instead choosing to bury his face into your neck to inhale the remains of your perfume as much as possible. Your hand moves to hold the back of his neck and your mouth move down to his ears.
"Just let it go hmm...I promise I won't tease you too much..."
Your voice sends chills down his spine, his panting starting to increase. Suddenly, you feel a sudden wetness against your neck - his tongue had darted out to get a taste of you.
"Jakey, thats a loss already. Come on, let's go to the bedroom."
You turn off the TV and guide him to stand up and head to the room. As soon as the bed became visible, you were pushed harshly onto it, Jake crashing down on to you to slot your lips together. His hands roam everywhere that he could reach, his clothed dick started to grind against the mattress.
"Please, please, please...just touch me already"
He begs into your mouth, getting up to strip both you and him of your clothes. You chuckle softly as you flip your positions, effectively straddling him and sitting your now bare pussy on top of his dick. With how wet you already were, the glide up and down his shaft made it easy and pleasurable, the ache on your clit starting to ease up a bit. Jake, however, was full on whining, his head thrown back harshly against the pillow, baring his pale white skin for you to see. You lean down to take his Adam's apple into your mouth, suckling on the skin to leave a dark hickey there. You move down the column of his throat, hands caressing his biceps.
"Tell me what you want baby. Can't do anything if I don't know what you need..."
Jake huffs at that.
"You promised you wouldn't tease...please Y/n..."
You chuckle at his desperation and decide to let him off just this once. You get off his dick and move down in between his legs, mouth swallowing him in one go. A loud sound punched out of Jake, hands flying to tangle his fingers into your hair just so that he could grab something that would ground him. His touch was light, not pushing you down, yet you could feel the light ache in your skull from the way his fingers gripped your long black strands.
It doesn't take long before you feel his hips stuttering, incoherent pleas spilling out of his mouth. You quicken your pace, guiding him to the edge of release, feeling his cum squirt to the back of your throat. You get up from between his legs and move up to his eye level, making him open his eyes to look at his cum on your tongue. You squeeze open his jaw, letting a mixture of his release and your saliva drip into his mouth before closing yours to swallow the rest of it. He moans deeply, pulling you down for yet another heated kiss.
"Just fuck me already please..."
He begs into your lips, using his hands to guide your hips. You give him some mercy, splaying your hands on his chest to tease his nipples as you get up just to sink down on his dick. Jake's hands scramble to grab something, the pleasure too intense for him to take. You decide to grab his arms, hands moving to interlock both your fingers together as your hips grind up and down.
"Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum..."
"Already baby? We just started..."
You speed up your hips as much as your stamina would let you and not long after, you feel him release his cum deep into your core. However, you don't let that stop your actions. Jake had already came twice and you hadn't even came once, how was that fair? You continue to chase your release, Jake's dick still hard as ever inside. You let go of his hands and lean back, using his legs to support your body as you change the angle so that his tip could hit that beloved spot in you.
Jake's whines get louder as he is sent into overstimulation while you cared about nothing other than the tightening feeling that was rapidly approaching.
"Come on baby, just a bit more yea, we can cum together"
Jake mumbles out incoherent words as he nods his head, using as much effort as he could to snap his hips up to meet yours. Finally, both of you release together, letting out loud and pornographic moans as you ride him through your high. You stay seated on him as you catch your breath, Jake's chest heaving up and down like he had just ran a marathon.
"Baby you okay?"
You slowly get off of him and lean down to pepper kisses onto his face, fingers carding through his hair.
"Yea, I didn't know it would hit me so hard..."
He giggles, causing a smile of fondness to slowly form on your face. You climb out of bed to walk to the washroom and clean yourself up, grabbing a towel and wetting it with warm water to bring back and wipe Jake up as well.
"Is it all out of your system baby?"
Jake nods as he watches you wipe him down with gentle hands, reaching out to pull you back down into side when you were done.
"Okay fine...I admit it, my self-restraints are as negligible as the mass of an electron..."
You roll your eyes at his physics reference and kiss him one more time before you fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart.
Hi guys, so I am back from the dead. This piece was sitting in my drafts so I decided to post it. I'm going to be posting a smau of Jake soon so please stay tuned for that! Comment if you like to be apart of the taglist for it!
˖˙⟡ enhypen’s kinky secrets they wouldn’t want anyone but you knowing
⟢ genre/warnings: established relationships, kink discussion & small nsfw drabbles, knife play, cum play, wax play, masturbation, objectification, sex tapes, mommy kink
‧₊˚ ┊hey... haha... i'm not dead + not proofread ;P
᯽ heeseung and . . . cum play ♡
heeseung isn't shy about his submission, matter of fact he wears it like it's a badge of honor. he just doesn't want people knowing he likes when things get that messy. when he's covered in his own cum, when you're covered in it, when you spit it back into his mouth...
his body covered in a thin layer of sweat, hot and shaky. your mouth wrapped around his length for the fourth time in the last hour. you'd figure he'd be spent, unable to cum again but no, heeseung always has more to give, always willing to take more. the sight of your chest and lips messy with his release, dried down on his lower stomach, it's damn near pornographic. he's so sensitive and your mouth is so warm, you always know how to bring him right to the edge. a whimper breaks up the sound of his labored panting, his hands gripping at the sheets as tightly as he can. "wait, wait..." he gasps, trying to warn you that at any moment he'll fall right off that edge. you don't wait though, work him off that cliff with so much ease the thought alone is dizzying for him. whining loudly as you so skillfully suck him through the rush of his orgasm, pulling off of him once he's finished. a gesture of your hand orders him to open his mouth, standing up to drip his own cum into his mouth. "good boy," you hum, tapping his cheek with your palm. "now swallow."
᯽ jay and . . . total objectification ♡
for jay pleasing you is the most important thing for him when it comes to your sex life, getting you off, satisfying you. however, when you treat him like he's a toy, like he was made just to please you? as if every part of his body is the hottest, most arousing thing you have ever seen? his whole brain shuts off, it's his own personal heaven.
"take your shirt off." your order takes him by surprise, he'd only walked in the door a minute or two ago. he turns to look at you, see if he'd heard you properly but that look on your face tells him everything. "yes, ma'am," he whispers, his hands coming to pull the thin, spandex fabric of his compression shirt over his head. allowing you to stare at his naked torso, fresh from his work out. "aren't you pretty?" you tease, approaching him to run your hands over his bare skin. "such a pretty toy..." your words and touch make his eyes close, slowly falling to his knees at your feet, his face resting against your thighs. then his begging starts, "can i please eat you out?" his hands coming up to your thighs, kneading and squeezing as if that'll tempt you into agreeing, as if you'd say no to begin with. "that's what toys are good for, isn't it?" you ask, running your hands through his hair as his creep up to tug your shorts down.
᯽ jake and . . . panty thieving ♡
jake's puppy-like nature never pauses, he's always on the go. and from time to time, that means your panties are too! steal a pair from the dirty laundry, snatch them off the floor after you've had sex, swipe some from the counter while you're in the shower. he just misses you so much when you're not around, he can't help himself. can you really blame him?
the soft cotton fabric pressed against his face, the smell of you, the faint taste of you, it's enough to drive him insane. his hand has a tight, secure hold on his cock, making its way up and down at a speed you'd never approve of. you like to make him work for it, drag it out a little so that when he does cum it feels that much better. he doesn't have the patience for that, he doesn't have the self control for it either unless you're directly instructing him. he wants this now, he needs you but you're not here and his hand is working just fine right now. shaky moans parting his bitten lips, muttering curses into the empty hotel room. his fingers swiping over his sensitive tip so quickly it nearly hurts, whimpering to himself about the pleasure. he may not be following your usual patterns but he mimics your actions nevertheless. his chest rising and falling as the threat of cumming into his hand approaches so quickly, frantically draping your underwear over the throbbing head. watching the fabric turn darker as his release bleeds into the it.
᯽ sunghoon and . . . knife play ♡
sunghoon is such a pretty boy but something about the threat of violence against him just gets him going. he could easily overpower you but with a knife in your hand... he's all yours, completely at your mercy and will. and he loves every second of it.
the knife is so shiny under the light of your kitchen, so reflective he can see himself in the pristine metal. "who do you belong to, sunghoon?" you question, holding the blade just below his collarbone. "you." he answers immediately, his tone soft, reverent. his body is between yours and the island counter, he's completely relaxed, there's not even an ounce of tension in his body. "that's right," you praise, "you belong to me." you affirm, your voice so smooth and sultry, it makes his knees weak. one of his hands rests on your hip while the other is holding onto the counter's edge, his thumb slowly swiping back and forth over your hip bone. "i belong to you." he repeats, nodding his head in agreement with your statement. you press the pointed tip of the knife to his clavicle, letting his skin indent but never break. he lets out a soft exhale at the feeling, gently pulling you closer to him so you can feel what you're doing to him. his hard-on pushing against your thigh while you toy with the light amount of pressure on his skin. "i'll hurt you if you ever forget that." you threaten playfully, watching the smile spread across his face at your teasing.
᯽ sunoo and . . . sex taping ♡
sunoo loves to be looked at and adored, loves to be told just how attractive he is. he thrives off of the praise and the boost to his ego. recording him while you play with him or taking photos of his post-orgasm face, set the camera up to record you both and show him when it's all over, send it to him so he can use it when you're not around.
when you pull your phone out to video your hand stroking him the sound he lets out is wrecked. his hand flying up to cover his eyes as if seeing what you're doing will break him in half. his tip is round, pale brown and leaking everywhere. "so pretty, baby," your voice comes out a purr, the palm of your hand rubbing back and forth over the underside of his shaft for the camera. the sounds he makes coming out in a consistent stream, moans, whines, groans and gasps, they all spill from his lips like a faulty faucet. taking him into your hand to pay careful, torturing attention to his tip, squeezing roughly, poking gently at the slit and watching him writhe at the contact. every movement sounds so wet it only gives away just how much he loves it. "fuck... fuck, more, please..." he mumbles, his abdomen and thighs twitching in anticipation of more stimulation. "you're so greedy." you taunt, giving the head a particularly harsh squeeze before placing a soft smack on it. the action makes him gasp so loud you think it may have actually hurt, until the noisy moan follows after. "you like that?" you tease, toying with his tip a bit more. "yes, yes, please keep going!" always so good for the camera.
᯽ jungwon and . . . wax play ♡
jungwon loves a little pain, that's no secret, but similar to heeseung he doesn't want people to know just how messy he likes to get. takes it so well, begs for more, loves to admire the artwork you paint across his body in colorful ink.
the candle is kept high away from his body, giving it time to cool down before it drips down onto his skin. every drop is so warm and relaxing, similar to a bath for him only the liquid is never calm. his pillow is tucked neatly between his face and arms, his back bare for you so that you can see the entirety of your canvas. he's sure you're drawing a shape into him, he's just unsure what it is at the moment. it's a heart, it's bigger than it usually is though, so you're taking your sweet time to map it out. your free hand massaging his side attentively, making sure he keeps still and relaxed as you let the hot wax roll down. jungwon isn't much of a talker during these scenes, he really likes to enjoy it, it's almost meditative. you enjoy the process of painting him pink, blue, green, or red while he basks in your precision and control. it's mind numbing, a welcome, needed, feeling for him after all of his stress. you make all of the tension he stores simply melt away.
᯽ niki and . . . mommy kink ♡
niki loves to be the center of your attention but he has to maintain his cool image, he wants to measure up to and fit in with his older members. this desire however does not trump his need for you to give him absolutely everything he's ever craved. for niki, the kink swings both ways - sexual and nonsexual, but it's only ever enjoyed when he knows nobody else can hear him. when you're all alone.
his voice will be so quiet when he comes up behind you, his hands slipping under the loose fabric of your shirt to hold onto your waist. "mommy," he calls out to you, dipping his head into the crook of your neck and pulling you flush against him. "i missed you so much today." he confesses, his left hand sliding down, letting his fingers dip into your waistband before they fall still. "i missed you too, baby," you hum in reply, reaching a hand up to pet his head. you can feel it, feel him slowly, hesitantly, starting to grind against you, you always let him have his moments like these. he needs them. needs to know that when he puts himself out there for you, so vulnerable and timid, that you'll give him what he craves so desperately. sometimes this takes shape in letting him be a little rough, often times it takes shape in this - his acts of utter desperation that give away just how much he needs his mommy. the kitchen is almost silent but you can hear him breathing, it's soft but it's getting louder, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he seeks more friction from your body. he's not quite ready to ask for more, right now he just needs to take a little bit.
summary: somehow you’re trapped in a closet with your crush as part of a game you don't remember signing up for. what do you do when he suggests playing the game properly?
MDNI *no intercourse but definitely sub!Jake, lots of kissing, grinding, maybe some slight begging, and huge fan of all things hickeys*
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Everyone sat criss cross applesauce in a circle, bottles of beer and cans of fruity tequila littered the surrounding floor. In the middle of the circle was a coffee table, and on the coffee table was a hat.
Jungwon stuck his hand into the hat, fishing around with the small slips of paper before pulling a name out. “Jake!”
You looked up, shocked that he had even agreed to put his name into the hat. His facial expression seemed anxious—of course he would be. From what you knew about him, he was quiet and kept mostly to himself. What motivated him to play this game?
He sat patiently as Jisoo and Sunoo helped tie the blindfold around his eyes. His hair was long enough that most of the blindfold was completely overshadowed by his bangs. It was a cute look, especially when you added the details of his nervousness. When it was confirmed he couldn’t see anything, Sunghoon stood with him and guided him into the closet.
You didn’t want to sulk. But you were. You hadn’t put your name into the hat at all because: 1.) you thought the game was stupid, 2.) you only wanted to kiss the guy you liked. Any other kiss would be a waste. But now your crush was in the closet waiting and you were out here regretting your decision to sit this one out. Would it be too obvious to suddenly ask to put your name in the hat?
“I didn’t know Jake was gonna play,” Mina whispered to you.
You nodded. “I thought he was just watching.”
“Why do you think he joined?”
You didn’t really want to think about that. Excluding you and Mina, there were 3 other girls in the circle—all of whom were pretty and talented. He probably saw them writing their names down and decided to join too. Afterall, if you knew Jake had written his name down, you sure as hell would have done the same thing. Instead of answering Mina’s question, you just shrugged.
The closet Jake was hiding in was still slightly open, waiting for the next lucky name to get called. You spared a quick glance at it, not wanting to linger long, and then scanned the faces in the circle. One of them was going to get picked. With a sigh, you went back to picking at your nail beds.
“Okay! I’m going in,” Jungwon announced with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
It would be stupid to get jealous over whoever would get called, right? The two of you weren’t dating anyway… much less spoken to each other. Any conversation you had had together had been brief because every time he opened his mouth, you would panic.
His fingers dipped into the rim of the hat, flicking through slips of paper. When his hand resurfaced, it held a name. “Y/N.”
You whipped your head towards him, shock crossing your face. “How- that’s not possible- I didn’t write my name down!”
“You didn’t, but I did,” Mina beamed at you, clearly proud of herself.
You merely stared, fighting to keep your jaw from dropping in disbelief. Should you be thankful? You were definitely thankful you didn’t have to watch someone else walk into that closet. So you tried to offer the closest thing to a smile you could. “Oh!”
“Come on, Y/N! Go!” she pushed you up from the ground and towards the closet.
Everyone in the circle burned holes into the back of your head and you squeezed your eyes shut when you knew they couldn’t see. You were starting to sweat and were positive your cheeks were on fire.
“Remember,” Jungwon slid an arm over your shoulder, guiding you to the closet and talking in a low voice. “Knowck on the ground once to say no and twice to say yes.”
You nodded, storing the information somewhere in your brain and focusing on your feet so you wouldn’t trip.
“Good luck,” he mouthed, pushing you through the door and locking it behind you.
Fuck.
It was silent. You didn’t want to talk since you didn’t want to give away your identity and Jake remained mute in the corner. Your eyes needed time to adjust to the dim lighting and you made yourself comfortable among the coats littering the ground. It was hard to create much distance between the two of you but you tried your best, sitting on the opposite side of the closet as Jake. Your knees were pulled to your chest like it would make you disappear or at least shrink you so you could bury yourself in the coats.
It felt awkward. Not being able to say anything made the air tense. In the numbness of the room, you became aware of how heavily you were breathing and tried to stop it by holding your breath. You bet he could hear you every time you inhaled. The thought made you inwardly groan.
Please say something. You wanted the silence to go away. Maybe then it’d be easier to sit with him like this.
But then again, maybe he really didn’t want to say anything. You closed your eyes and dropped your head in frustration. Jake wasn’t the type of person to just strike up a conversation—espectially with someone unknown in a closet. If you had never seen him hanging out with his friends, you would think that he had a max limit of 20 words a day.
“Hey.”
Your eyes shot up to the boy in front of you and you opened your mouth to respond before quickly shutting it. You can’t say anything. He can’t know it’s you.
“Um…” His words trailed off and you watched him pull his bottom lip between his teeth in nervousness. “I, uh- it’s not too hot in here, is it?” He looked up to the area in which he assumed you would be sitting.
You hesitated, not sure what to do.
“Knock on the ground once to say no and twice to say yes.”
You knocked. No.
His smile was faint. “I’m sorry if it’s awkward, I’m not entirely sure what to do here.”
Your lips twitched. He was cute when he was nervous. It gave you a little reassurance knowing that you weren’t the only anxious one. Something inside you wanted to tell him it was okay but you held back.
“Where are you?” he asked suddenly.
Every muscle in you froze. Uh oh.
You debated between knocking a little louder so your position was more direct this time or clearing your throat, maybe nudge him with the tip of your toe? Was that too gross? You found yourself once again fidgeting with your fingers, trying to figure out what to do.
“Let me see your hand.”
Your eyes widened as you watched him slowly extend an arm. Shit.
You looked down at your sweaty palms and wiped them off on your pants. If you were gonna be holding hands with Jake, you needed to make sure they didn’t feel wet. Surely the last thing he wanted was to be holding hands with a sweaty girl in a dark closet.
It was an awkward crawl forward before you were able to touch him, grasping his hand softly and getting into a cross-legged position in front of him. You watched his face as your hands made contact. There wasn’t a noticeable change in his facial expression, but you couldn’t see very well since half of his face was hidden behind the blindfold. You—however—were a mess.
We’re holding hands, we’re holding hands, we’re holding hands. You weren’t sure if the blush from earlier had left or not, but if it had, it was definitely back.
Your heart just about stopped when you felt his fingers brush over your palm and the back of your hand. Everywhere they touched they left goosebumps—an effect you were hoping he didn’t notice. Then his hand tightened around yours and he pulled himself towards you, successfully connecting your knees. You squeaked in surprise and used your other hand to cover your mouth before anything else got out.
“Sorry,” he murmured, “I just wanted to get closer.”
You just about died. Your lungs felt like they couldn’t get a full inhale. Jake wanted to be closer to you. Well, not specifically you, just whoever he was in the closet with.
“Are you uncomfortable?” he asked, looking up at you.
You instinctually leaned back when you realized how close his face was to yours. He was too pretty, it made you nervous. The blindfold wasn’t helping.
One knock. No.
Jake’s shoulders relaxed from their tense position, his lips quirking upwards in what appeared to be a smile. “Okay, that’s good.” He looked down and you followed, focusing on his hand still gripping yours. It didn’t seem like he was planning to let go, not that you were complaining. “Do you know how this game works?”
You blinked in confusion. He couldn’t be serious, right? Surely he knew how to play the game, why else would he volunteer? Did he expect the two of you to just sit in the dark together?
He must’ve heard you struggling to come up with a way to respond to his question because he let out a short laugh. “I mean, I know how to play, I just wanted to make sure that you know too…”
Well shoot. You knew exactly how to play. Not that you ever had, it’s just, who wouldn’t?
Yes. You knocked twice to answer his previous question.
Jake tilted forward and you held your breath. What was he doing?
“What if,” he started, making you nervous, “we played the game,” he cocked his head to the side, “that way.”
Your eyes bulged and you frantically looked around, trying to find something—anything—else in the closet to look at other than the boy hinting at a makeout session. That way?? As in, 7 minutes of straight kissing with the boy you liked in a dark closet? Since when did Jake act like this? You never imagined him to be so… suggestive? His confidence was through the roof, and he didn’t even know who you were.
“But I don’t want you to feel pressured,” he said, leaning back and away from you.
Was it bad that you instantly wanted him to come back? You wanted him closer again. Afterall, when would you get another chance to look at him this intimately?
“I, uh…” Jake mumbled and you watched disappointed as his hand let go of yours. “I made it awkward, my bad…”
Your abandoned fingers flexed, wishing there was something for them to hold, regretting your lack of response. If you had the courage to jump his bones already, trust and believe you would have. But one does not simply devour the hottest man they’ve ever seen. You couldn’t. You couldn’t move. But?
You felt yourself staring at his lips, unable to look away. The ball was in your court. He practically handed it to you on a silver platter and nearly sulked when you turned away. What more could you be waiting for? Kiss him. Maybe he’d understand there and then that he hadn’t made anything awkward at all. Maybe it could make some of the tension melt? Or it could just make everything worse. You were, ultimately, some random girl assigned to be stuck with him in this closet. Why would he want to kiss someone random? But then again, why would he have asked if he didn’t want it.
Jake remained silent, staring through the blindfold at the floor. Do it. Do it. Do it.
Carefully, you moved from your seated position, folding your legs beneath you to kneel in front of him and giving you the higher ground. Prayer after prayer chanted in your head as you reached out a shaking hand to touch his chin and tilt his head up to look at you. For the briefest moment, you hesitated. There would be no way back after this. You wouldn’t be able to look at him the same. How could you get over him when you knew what he tasted like?
But none of that mattered. You leaned forward, connected your lips.
Your stomach exploded as your eyes closed and you held your breath. You did it. You were kissing him—Jake, the guy you’d had a crush on for months now. The realization overwhelmed you and you backed away, opening your eyes in both fear and pride. Now what?
Before you had a chance to get too far away, Jake’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you in, his lips wrapping around yours again.
Confusion coursed through you, making your eyelids flutter before closing completely and letting him lead you. So he didn’t mind you kissing him? Well, again, not specifically you, just whoever was in the closet. That made your heart sink a little, but it didn’t make you pull away.
His lips moved against yours, soft and slow, making you melt. His hand still encased the back of your head, fingers starting to dig into your hair. It felt amazing. Cautiously, you moved your hands to the back of his head as well, gripping into the long locks and tugging softly. At the pull, Jake’s head fell back and his mouth slightly opened. Almost immediately, you pressed forward, slightly raising your body to tower further over him and opening your mouth wider. He let your tongue in, welcoming it with a low groan.
The sound snapped your back to reality and you stopped for a minute, staring down at him. The butterflies only got worse when you saw him. He was insanely attractive in general, yes, but something about the way he looked now—completely blindfolded, lips slick with saliva, pink dusting his cheeks—made his whole aura intensify. Any thoughts previously floating in your head were gone the second you looked at him, and when he pulled on your neck to draw you back in again, you didn’t hesitate to kiss him back.
Your tongues met in slow movements, exploring each other as the kiss deepened. You wanted more. You wanted more than just a kiss. You wanted to push him backwards, get on top of him. You wanted slide a hand into his shirt and feel his warm skin. You wanted to see what he would do. The thought itself made you lose your rhythm and you gripped into his hair again, using the hold to help pull the two of you apart.
You panted with your head handing forward, loosening your grip the moment you got the space you needed to breathe. Control yourself. Don’t go too far. You tried to block all images of Jake beneath you from your mind. You had to keep it together.
It was silent for a while—calm even— until he leaned forward and found your jawline, peppering kisses across the skin. Your breath hitched and your eyes began to close involuntarily. Fuck it felt good.
“Stop,” you wanted to say as his breath fanned across the side of your face. The contrast between his hot tongue and cool breath on your neck only destroyed you further. Every open mouth kiss he left against your skin made it harder for you to focus and you bit your lip, urging yourself to stay quiet. It didn’t matter. A small whimper escaped your throat.
Jake must have felt pleased with your response and sucked a little harder in his next kiss, both of his hands sliding to rest on your waist. You caved and let your head drop into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. It was woody and sweet and everything you didn’t know you needed, breathing it in even more deeply. When you bit down against the smooth skin on his neck, he gasped into your ear, stopping his previous attack against you and instantly tilting his head to the side to give you more access.
Once again, your hand rooted itself in his hair, holding him in place as you licked a long strip from his collarbone to his jaw. The combination of you biting his neck and the way you held onto his head tightly made small noises cascade from his mouth, quiet but not stopping. With every bit against his skin, you sucked hard enough to make him feel pain and pleasure, but never quite hard enough to leave a dark bruise. When the 7 minutes were over, you didn’t think you’d be able to look him in the eyes if he had your marks all over his neck. It would drive you insane knowing that you made them.
Collarbone, shoulder, artery, tendon. Your mouth traveled everywhere as your free fingers constantly clawed his shirt out of the way. Everywhere you went, you left a trail of kisses and already fading hickeys. His breathing came in short and shaky pants, the small noises from earlier never leaving.
You weren’t sure when, but somehow Jake got his hands underneath your thighs, pulling you onto him in a straddling position. Is this actually happening? His hands found themselves on your lower back, tugging you even closer. Every nerve in your body pulsed with excitement. You needed more than a lousy 7 minutes.
Suddenly, his body jolted and his hands tightened around your hips, pushing you down. With the friction of your body and your sensation of your mouth, his mouth fell open and he groaned louder than he had before. More. Moan pretty for me. Blindly, you threw a hand out, bracing yourself against the wall and using the additional stability to grind yourself against him again, and again, and again.
One of his hands flew to the back of your shirt, instantly balling the fabric into a fist. “F-fuck, oh my God-”
You released your fingers from his hair and he instantly pulled you forward, burying himself into your neck. One of his arms gave out and the two of you fell backwards. He managed to catch himself with an elbow, preventing you both from colliding with the floor. The shock of the sudden movement caused you to still and check over him carefully, wanting to make sure he wasn’t injured. Besides the nearly faded hickeys, he seemed unharmed.
Your eyes dropped to where your pelvises were connected, seeing the clear print beneath his jeans. He was more than hard for you, you could tell he was throbbing. A section of his shirt had lifted up, revealing glimpses of honey toned skin. You reached out.
He was warm, muscles contracting from the contact of your fingers against his stomach and ribs. The hand clutching your shirt dropped and he tucked it behind himself, adding more support. You waited for him to stop you, maybe for him to pull your wrist out or for him to tug his shirt back down, but he let you do anything. He let you travel further up his ribcage, ghosting your fingernails across his pecs and then down to his abs. He let you push the shirt back and watch his stomach flex with every shaky inhale. He let you fiddle experimentally with the hem of his jeans and the waistband of underwear poking out from underneath it.
“Please,” he breathed. “Kiss me.”
His voice was quiet but you heard it and you turned your eyes towards his face. His cheeks were a much darker shade of pink than before and his hair was a mess from your hands pulling it. Your gaze fell to his parted lips. They were red and swollen and had bite marks from when he had tried to keep his mouth shut and be quiet. You watched as they moved to repeat those words again
“Kiss me.”
It sounded more desperate this time. You felt yourself giving in. You really wanted to but a thought stopped you. How much time did the two of you have left? The last thing you wanted was for Jungwon to open the door and find you straddling one of his closest friends on the ground. A shiver ran down your spine and you unconsciously pulled away. You couldn’t risk it. You shouldn’t. No matter how golden this opportunity was.
“Please!” Jake breathed out, almost like he sensed you leaving.
You froze, eyes flicked back to his face.
“Please…”
Wide-eyed, you watched as his head drooped down to his chest. Was Jake begging? He didn’t even know who you were and yet here he was begging for you to kiss him again. Temptation in human form. But what if later he found out it was you and thought that you had taken advantage of him? What if he began to avoid you completely? You didn’t want that. But wasn’t this part of the game? You were supposed to kiss someone in the closet, right?
You stared at his lips intently, making up your mind. If he says one more thing, you were going to kiss him. Screw the time limit and literally every other bad case scenario. And the minute he opened his mouth, you were already moving.
Jake melted, a sigh escaping as you captured his lips again. It was cute how easily he was satisfied, almost instantly smiling into your mouth. If you weren’t afraid of giving away your voice, you would have teased him by now.
The raising of hips was not subtle by any means, you felt it instantly—a silent plea for you to move against him—and you were more than happy to oblige. This time, you planted your hand onto the ground, keeping your lips locked, and forcing your hips down. His kiss stuttered in response and he breathed a whine into your skin.
“You feel so good,” he moaned softly, trying to keep the volume down from the people only a couple feet away.
His hips began moving with yours, meeting you halfway and making you clench your teeth. The fabric of his jeans pushed against the thinness of your clothes, rubbing you in all the right areas. You wanted to tell him he felt good too. You wanted to tell him he looked pretty and he sounded pretty and he was doing such a good job at keeping quiet.
It happened in a split second. One moment you were on top, and the next you were on your back. He used one hand to pin one of your hands above your head and cupped one side of your neck with the other one, holding you still while he sloppily kissed the skin. You closed your eyes in bliss, letting him roll his hips against you and shape you into whatever mold he pleased. The coat beneath you added cushioning against your back, protecting your spine from the hardwood.
What if someone walks in?
Don’t stop.
What if they hear us?
Shit, Jake.
It’s definitely been 7 minutes.
Don’t stop. Don’t stop.
“Fuck- fuck! You feel so good, Y/N.”
Damn your name sounds good in his mouth.
Your eyes snapped open and all the air in your lungs felt like it had been vacuumed out. What did he say?
When you pulled away, you were met with a pair of big, brown eyes staring back at you. The realization hit you like a truck and you yelped in shock, quickly covering his eyes with your hand. Unfortunately, you had done this a little harsher than you had meant to.
“Ow!” Jake exclaimed and pulled back.
“Don’t look,” you hissed, keeping your hand wrapped securely around his eyes as you desperately felt the ground for a coat big enough to hide under.
“I already know-” he started, bringing a hand up to your wrist to try and uncover his eyes.
“Stop…” you protest, scrambling completely out from under him. Your hand left his face, only to cover yours.
He knows. He knows it was you. You shuddered recalling everything the two of you had just done. You had kissed him first. You didn’t force yourself on him, did you? What if that’s what he thinks? And now he know you were the one he was begging to kiss again. What if he hates it? Your face grew even redder. Shit.
“Y/N,” he called out quietly and you winced. “I, uh, I knew it was you.”
Confused, you parted your fingers so you could see him. “What?”
He was sitting down, noticeable distance between the two of you now. You tried not to stare at his lap. You were just sitting there. Damn it was a good seat too.
“I knew it was you the whole time.”
You blinked, dumbfounded, unable to make eye contact. Slowly, your hands fell from your face to rest in your lap. “How did you know?”
He seemed even more nervous than you now, fidgeting with his fingers and his knee bouncing. “It was a set up,” he started. “Jungwon suggested it. He already had the piece of paper with your name in his hand before he reached into the hat.” He shot a glance in your direction. “I just wanted to get some time alone with you.”
The pieces weren’t fitting together. So, Jake only agreed to play the game because he knew that you were the one that would be in the closet with him? For time alone? And this is because of Jungwon?
“Why?” you asked.
“Um.” His eyes danced around the closet. “Because I-”
You waited patiently.
“I told him I like you,” he admitted. “A lot actually, but I just felt like it was impossible to talk to you.”
You felt your face heat up, but not from embarrassment. He liked you.
“You just wanted to spend time alone with me and talk but ended up suggesting we play this game ‘that way’,” you quoted him and watched his reaction. He looked away, flustered.
“I didn’t expect you to actually do anything,” he said softly. Your eyes fell to the singular hickey left on his neck. “Why did you kiss me? I thought that since you knew it was me you wouldn’t have done anything.”
You shook your head. “I kissed you because I knew it was you,” you said it like it was obvious. “I don’t just kiss anybody.”
He continued to stare, “But, why-”
“Because I like you too, Jake.”
And he smiled.
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(bet you didn't know this was originally a middle school Todoroki fanfiction 😛)
