Academic Rivals - Tumblr Posts

hear me out. academic rivals but instead of stereotypical academic subjects like maths or science its art or music or drama or literally anything creative because ive never seen the trope done like this before and i need to

---

Don't take it personal...

Parings... Theodore Nott x slytherin!reader

Trope... academic rivals to lovers

Warnings... swearing

Summary... Theodore Nott and Y/n have had rivalry to gain the highest grade in Potions for years but when someone gets hurt maybe it's gone too far...

Y/n L/n prided herself on two things: her impeccable grades and her unflappable demeanor. As a Slytherin, she knew the importance of maintaining a composed and strategic front, and she had mastered it to perfection. Except, of course, when it came to Theodore Nott.

Theodore was an enigma, a quiet presence that somehow always managed to get under her skin. He was brilliant, annoyingly so, and the only one who could rival her in Potions. Professor Slughorn often praised their concoctions, hinting at an unspoken rivalry that everyone in Slytherin House was aware of.

Y/n’s competitive spirit was fueled by Theodore’s relentless determination to outdo her. It wasn’t just about the grades; it was about proving herself, about being the best. Every potion she brewed was meticulously crafted, every essay on potion-making filled with insightful analysis and innovative ideas. Yet, no matter how hard she worked, Theodore was always there, a step ahead or right beside her, matching her effort for effort.

One evening, the common room was unusually quiet. Y/n was hunched over her Potions textbook, quill scratching furiously across the parchment. She hadn’t noticed the hours slipping away, the candles burning lower and lower. She hadn’t even noticed her own body’s protests, the gnawing hunger in her stomach because she just had to skip lunch and dinner and the dizzying exhaustion that clouded her vision as her body practically begged for rest.

It was Theodore who noticed. He had been watching her from a distance, his own books spread out in front of him but his attention clearly divided. He saw the way her hands trembled slightly, the way her head dipped closer to the table with each passing minute.

“Y/n” he called softly, but she didn’t respond. She was too engrossed in her work, too caught up in the need to perfect her latest potion theory.

“Y/n!” His voice was sharper this time, cutting through the haze of her concentration. She looked up, eyes glassy with fatigue.

“What, Nott?” she snapped, the sharpness in her voice a stark contrast to her usual calm demeanor.

“You need to eat something. You’ve been at this for hours,” he said, a note of concern creeping into his voice.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though her vision swam as she tried to focus on him.

“No, you’re not,” he argued, standing up and crossing the room to her side. “You’re going to make yourself sick if you keep this up.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but the words didn’t come. Instead, the room tilted violently, and before she knew it, she was falling, darkness closing in around her.

The next thing Y/n knew, she was lying on a couch in the common room, a soft blanket draped over her. She blinked, trying to piece together what had happened. The room was dimly lit, and she could make out Theodore’s silhouette sitting nearby, a worried expression etched on his face.

“What happened?” she mumbled, her voice weak.

“You passed out,” Theodore said bluntly. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself, Y/n. This fucked up competition that we have… it’s not worth your health.”

Y/n tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness forced her back down. She closed her eyes, frustration boiling inside her. “I can’t just give up, Theodore. I have to be the best.”

“Why?” he asked, his tone softer now. “Why is it so important to you?”

“Because…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because it’s who I am. It’s all I have. We are both well aware of the customs that purebloods have and the expectations my parents have for me to secure a suitable match. This is for me because nothing ever is.”

Theodore sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Y/n, I never saw you as competition.”

His words took a moment to register. She stared at him, confusion mingling with exhaustion. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve always admired you, respected you. But I didn’t push myself to outdo you because I saw you as an obstacle. I did it because…” He trailed off, looking almost embarrassed. “Because it was the only way I could get your attention.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/n,” Theodore admitted, his cheeks tinged with color. “But you were always so focused, so distant. Competing with you was the only way I could think of to get you to notice me and prove myself to you.”

She was silent, processing his words. The idea that Theodore had been trying to impress her, to earn her attention, was both shocking and oddly touching. She had always seen their rivalry as a battle, it had never occurred to her that it was his way of reaching out to her.

“Theodore, I…” She paused, uncertain of what to say. “I never knew.”

“Of course not,” he said with a sheepish smile. “I didn’t exactly make it obvious.”

She managed a weak smile in return. “You certainly have a unique way of showing it.”

He chuckled, the tension in the room easing slightly. “I’m sorry if I pushed you too hard. I never wanted to see you hurt. And if it means you’ll take better care of yourself, I’ll back off. I don’t need to compete with you to care about you.”

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. For the first time, she saw him not as her rival, but as someone who genuinely cared about her. It was a strange, yet comforting realization.

“You don’t have to back off,” she said softly. “Just… maybe we can find a better way to do this. A way that doesn’t involve me collapsing from exhaustion.”

Theodore’s expression brightened. “I’d like that.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the competitive edge between them replaced by something warmer, something more understanding. Y/n knew it wouldn’t be easy to change the dynamic that had defined their relationship for so long, but she was willing to try. For Theodore, and for herself.

As the days passed, their rivalry transformed into a partnership. They studied together, sharing insights and helping each other improve. Their mutual respect grew, and so did their affection. Theodore’s confession had opened a door that Y/n hadn’t even realized was there, and she was grateful for it.

One evening, as they sat together in the common room, Y/n looked over at Theodore, a smile playing on her lips. “You know, I think we make a pretty good team.”

He smiled back, his eyes warm. “I think so too.”

And in that moment, Y/n realized that she didn’t need to be the best to be happy. She just needed to be with someone who understood her, who cared about her, and who made her feel like she was enough, just as she was. Theodore had given her that, and she was determined to never take it for granted.

A/n... Please let me know what you think because I crave validation 😭

Also requests are openn

---

chapter 1 - new year, same rivalry

a/n: hello! i’m back finally! super excited for this series, it’s definitely going to be more wholesome than my other one, and more of a slow burn! my plan is to have ten chapters, but that could change later on.. anyways enjoy and please tell me what you think! if you would like to be put on the series taglist, let me know! ♥️

chapter warnings: slight language

wc: 3.8k

series masterlist

“Welcome, year twelves. It’s lovely to see you all today, I recognize some familiar faces. My name is Mrs. Chasteen, I’ll be your teacher for English studies this year.” You set your bag down and take a seat, glancing up at the woman speaking. She’s very elegant, with her grey hair pulled into a strict bun and sophisticated tiny rectangle glasses resting on the bridge of her nose. You smooth out your black pleated skirt before crossing your legs.

“As I’m sure you all know, this year is very important. You should be considering which universities you wish to apply to, how you would like to further your education…” Your attention is side tracked when a tall figure hurries into the room, his dark eyes scanning for an open seat. You swear your heart drops to your stomach. Farleigh.

His eyes eventually fall onto you after spotting the empty seat next to you. He reluctantly walks over and sits down next to you with a big sigh, like he’s just put off by your existence. At least the feeling’s mutual.

“Your grades need to be in top shape this year, as they will determine your chances of getting into university. This year is arguably the most important for grades,” Mrs. Chasteen explains, pacing around slowly. You shift uncomfortably, scooting away from Farleigh. It’s like he’s trying to take up space on purpose as he splays his books and papers across the table. You shoot him an ungrateful look which he ignores.

“Now, enough about all that. I’m going to introduce the book that we will be studying closely this term.” You perk up at her words as she goes to her desk, picking a book up off the surface.

“This book is found on many, many reading lists for universities, namely Oxford.” You raise an eyebrow and sit up at the mention of your dream school. “A classic from the Victiorian era: Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë.” She holds up the book briefly and you let out a relieved sigh. “One of my personal favorites,” She adds quietly, setting the book back down.

Farleigh nudges you with his shoulder and you have to stop yourself from physically recoiling. “Would’ve thought you’d already read this by now,” He mutters with a slight smirk on his face, showing his teeth like a fox. Suddenly, a question enters your mind and now you have to ask, though you might come off as insecure. “Have you?” You whisper back, eyebrows furrowed. He shakes his head. “No.”

Okay, good. That would have been bad if he had already read it. It’s always nice at the start of the year. You’re both even, and no one’s ahead of each other in anything. Yet.

“We’ll be discussing and taking assessments over the chapters, so be certain to keep up with your reading. For your final project before winter break once we finish the book, you will be writing an essay based off of it and a prompt that I will give you. I will also be pairing you up with someone to collaboratively write said paper with.” Your eyes widen at this. A group project? Well, not a group. A duo. Nevertheless, it’s weird for two people to write an essay together. You’ve never heard of it.

“You need to learn how to critique each other and work together. It’s an important skill for uni.” Mrs. Chasteen seems to notice everyone’s looks of confusion. “Hmm,” Farleigh hums. You glance over to him shortly before observing the other students in your class. You recognize a lot of them. Just accquaintances, not friends.

“Anywho. Please come and grab a copy, then sign the sheet so I know you received one.” You quickly stand up and head over to her desk. You want to make a good first impression. But Farleigh and his stupid long legs make it there before you do, charming Mrs. Chasteen with a bright smile.

“Hello. I’m Farleigh. I’m absolutely thrilled to be taking your class,” He holds out his hand, speaking with his velvety voice while your teacher shakes his hand with a curt nod. “You’re quite tall,” She remarks with an impressed expression. You roll your eyes. Why does everyone feel the need to comment on his height? Does it make him better than everyone else? It’s just one more thing that makes Farleigh stand out more than you, and you hate that. You miss what he responds with due to your bitter thoughts.

“Please, take a book.” She steps back and gives him more space. He reaches down and takes a copy off of her desk, signing the paper shortly after with his free hand, writing in flawless cursive. You’re envious of how smoothly and quickly he can connect the letters. It looks like something out of a scroll from the eighteenth century.

“Oh, wonderful cursive,” Mrs. Chasteen clasps her hands together in approval and Farleigh just glances at you with a shit-eating grin before walking off and back to your shared table.

“Hi there,” You put on your best I’m very high achieving and hard working smile and mimic Farleigh’s actions, holding out your hand as you introduce yourself. She smiles back warmly while shaking your hand. “What a beautiful name. I’ve heard many great things about you from your previous teachers.” She almost lowers her voice. You feel your face heat up and you try not to show your pride.

“Oh, well then, I hope I live up to your expectations, miss.” You say with a beaming smile. She chuckles and hands you a book. “I’m certain you will,” She replies as you sign your name on the sheet of paper in slightly sloppier cursive, looking worse underneath Farleigh’s perfect signature.

You walk back to your spot with a spring in your step, holding your head high. Hearing just those few words from your new teacher’s mouth made your day. That’s how badly you crave academic validation. Or just… validation in general.

“You hear that?” You ask, returning his grin from earlier. “Hear what?” He asks, raising an eyebrow and turning to you with a confused expression. “Nevermind.” You don’t know why you thought he would’ve heard your conversation from all the way over here. “Mmm,” He hums in response, and there’s some attitude in his tone. You debate whether you should come up with a snarky question to ask him, but you decide against it.

Once all the books are handed out, Mrs. Chasteen walks up to the whiteboard and uncaps a marker. “So, can anyone tell me something interesting about Emily Brontë?” She asks.

Both of your hands shoot up at the same time. You mentally curse at Farleigh and shoot him an annoyed side glance. He returns the favor. Mrs. Chasteen notices this and raises her eyebrows. “Eager to answer, are we?” She chuckles and then looks around. “Anyone else?”

You glance around the room. No one else is raising their hands, they’re all just looking expectantly at you and Farleigh. You look back to your teacher with wide eyes, willing her to pick you.

“Alright then..” Mrs. Chasteen clears her throat. Her eyes land on you. She’s going to pick you. Yes. Now you can prove your intelligence and superiority to the rest of the class, and to Farleigh.

“Farleigh.” Your hand drops back down to your side in defeat and he turns to look at you. He just winks. He winks. The annoying fuck, you could probably strangle him right now-

“Well, Emily wasn’t the only poet and writer in her family. Her sister, Charlotte, wrote Jane Eyre, which was hugely successful. But Wuthering Heights was critiqued for being too clumsy or, rather, not well structured.” He explains, sounding like a fucking Britannica article. It was the exact thing you were going to say, and it pisses you off. You rest your elbows against the desk and put your chin in your hands, sighing dejectedly.

Mrs. Chasteen nods and writes this on the board, summing up the information into bullet points. “Correct. Very good.” She caps the marker again and turns back to the class. You raise your hand quickly, and she calls your name.

“I think Farleigh’s forgetting to mention Anne Brontë. She was probably the least popular out of the three sisters, but her works are seriously underrated. Her last novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, was one of the first feminist novels. She paved the way for other female authors and gave women a voice.” You explain, and Mrs. Chasteen looks surprised at your level of knowledge. You can feel Farleigh’s bristling energy next to you. You smile contentedly, watching as your teacher writes what you said about Anne off to the side.

“And have you read this book?” Farleigh suddenly asks. You turn to face him, unafraid of his challenging. “No, I have not. But I did a project over the Brontë sisters last year, and my research went quite in depth.” You explain, and he does one of those Olympic winning eyerolls. “Having extra information like that comes in handy, you know,” You grin as his eyebrows furrow, glaring sharply at you. “It’s not like it matters. We’re not even talking about Anne. She asked about Emily.” It seems like you two have forgotten completely about the rest of the students in the room, the teacher, and everything else in the world as you begin to argue. It just comes naturally.

“If I’m not mistaken, you mentioned Charlotte. She asked about Emily,” You mock him. He opens his mouth to say something back, then closes it and looks down.

“Alright.. anywho, now we’re going to read a short introduction to the book to give you all an idea of what you’re getting into.” Mrs. Chasteen explains, giving you and Farleigh a stern look.

Throughout the rest of the class, you and Farleigh remain silent and refuse to speak to each other, though you were instructed to discuss with the person next to you. You look out the stained glass window, watching the raindrops patter onto the cobblestone, the puddles illuminated by the golden light shining from the lanterns, the chatter around you drowned out by your own thoughts about the rest of today.

Your overthinking is interrupted by your teacher’s voice.

“Okay everyone, that’s it for today. I will see you all tomorrow. Could you two stay for a moment, please?” She turns to you and Farleigh as you’re gathering your things, gesturing for you two to come up to her desk. You both glance at each other before nodding and heading over after you’ve swung your bag over your shoulder.

“So… you two seem very.. competitive. You’re both very intelligent, make no mistake.” You wonder where she’s going with this. “Which makes me curious– May I ask which universities you two intend on applying to?”

“Oxford.” You both say at the same time, after which you immediately turn to each other with wide eyes. What? No. It can’t be. You’re seriously fucked if he applies to Oxford. They rarely ever take two people from the same school.

“You’re applying to Oxford?!” You both ask, once again, at the same time. He looks almost personally offended by you, with his upper lip pulled up and his eyebrows knitted together in a familiar scowl.

“Oh- Haha, well. What a coincidence,” Mrs. Chasteen chuckles nervously, glancing back and forth. “I went to Oxford. It was quite lovely there, and the professors–”

“No, you can’t. I’m applying to Oxford.” You point at yourself, and he scoffs. “Who says I can’t?” Farleigh asks, his voice dripping with sass. “Me.” You reply. He rolls his eyes and facepalms with exasperation.

“Well, the chances of you both getting in aren’t… impossible. If they see two exceptionally good students who are at the top of their class, they won’t mind if you’re from the same school. They only see the talent,” She goes on to explain, trying to stop an argument from breaking out again.

“Logically, they would pick the top student, though. Not students,” You emphasize the s at the end of students. Mrs. Chasteen continues. “You never know. And backup universities are a great option, if–”

“I appreciate the suggestion, but I’ll only be applying to Oxford. It’s Oxford or nothing,” You reply, your voice full of determination. “Me too. Oxford’s been my dream uni since I moved here from the states,” Farleigh adds. You turn to glare at him and he glares right back.

“Well then. That’s fine, just please try not to take up any more class time with your bickering.” She raises her eyebrows at you two. You nod. “Yes, miss.”

“And who knows,” She says, pushing her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose, “You two might work better together. Two smart brains are better than one,” You shudder at the word together. You and Farleigh working together? Absolutely not.

“Think about it.” She points a finger and you reluctantly nod, just to give her some temporary satisfaction. “You’re excused,” She dips her head and you hear Farleigh let out a little sigh of relief. “Thank you, miss. Have a good day,” He nods shortly to her before turning on his heel and heading for the door. You follow suit.

Shit. You forgot about the rain. Before English class, you had made it inside before the downpour had really started. Now the raindrops covered every inch of the ground. You have to cross the courtyard to get to your next class, which is in the west wing of the school. You awkwardly stand in the arched corridor, listening to the rain, slightly shivering as you try to make a decision. The weather is always bipolar in London. It’s September, and the other day it was sweltering. Now it’s freezing and rainy.

Farleigh turns around and raises an eyebrow at your hesitation. “What are you doing?” He asks. You glance down. He’s holding a black umbrella. How is he always prepared for everything?

“Well I don’t have an… umbrella,” You mumble, gesturing to the one in his hand. “Am I supposed to care?” He replies. Of course. Why did you think he would care?

“You asked me what I was doing,” You throw your hands up. “I was answering your question!” You exclaim angrily. He rolls his eyes. “What’s your next class?” He asks hesitantly.

You pull out the small yet important paper from your pocket with your classes on it, looking down and squinting. “Biology,” You reply, looking up and watching all the other students bustling around, chatting excitedly or holding umbrellas over their head as they walk through the courtyard. You look back to Farleigh, who seems to be thinking something over in his head.

“Alright, c’mon.” He nods to you, walking out into the open area, holding up the umbrella. You step forward without questioning it, just thankful for the rare act of kindness. “I’m headed to the west wing anyway,” He says as you walk side by side, as if he has to make it clear that this is not him being generous to you. It’s simply convenient.

You wish you didn’t have to stay so close to him, but if you want to be covered fully from the rain, you sort of have to get closer to him, your head brushing against his shoulder due to your almost embarrassing height difference and your feet almost tripping over his. You both remain silent, with only the sound of the rain pelting against the umbrella to keep you company.

You eventually reach the west corridor, and he’s quickly stepping away from you and wrapping up the umbrella. You begin walking to go find your class, before you hear his voice call after you.

“No ‘thank you’ or anything?” He asks. You turn around and groan internally. “...Thank you.” You respond, very reluctantly and quietly. “You’re welcome,” He smiles sarcastically and you roll your eyes before turning back around, quickening your pace to make it to your class on time.

A week later, your first calculus assessment of the year is already upon you. It doesn’t help that you share that class, of all classes, with Farleigh. Math has always been your most difficult subject. You’ve never been quick to understand it, it never comes naturally for you. But if you put in the time and work, you can make it seem like it’s effortless.

Apparently for Farleigh, it is effortless. He makes it clear that he never studies for tests or quizzes. While it infuriates you, you also find it hard to believe. How can he ace everything when he claims he doesn’t even try?

You sit down at your desk, fishing your pencil and calculator out from your bag. You nervously chew on the eraser, waiting for the papers to be passed out.

“First assessment of the year, good luck everyone. If you fail, there will be no corrections, so hopefully that makes you feel better,” Mr. Bailey says as he passes out the tests. His sarcasm somehow only makes the situation worse. You spent hours studying for this last evening, although he claimed this was all ‘mostly a review’ from your precalculus class last year. Right. Review. You should know this stuff by now.

As soon as the paper is on your desk, you begin working, starting with the problems you know how to solve. You get in that zone, completely unbothered by your surroundings or any distractions, just working, switching between writing down numbers and formulas to typing into the calculator.

You get stumped on a question and glance up to check the time. Your eyes wander from the clock over to Farleigh, who seems completely relaxed, one hand running through his hair and fiddling with his dark curls and the other working a problem out.

“Eyes on your own tests, please,” Mr. Bailey sternly calls out. Your eyes dart over to him, where he sits behind his desk, his gaze directly upon you. Fuck. Now he’s going to think you were cheating. But what were you actually doing? Staring at Farleigh? No. You were just… observing. You go back to your test, flipping the paper over to start the graphing section.

“That’s time. Pencils down, I’ll come by to pick up your papers.” Mr. Bailey announces, standing up and starting down the rows of desks and picking up everyone’s tests. He says something to Farleigh but you can’t make it out, but you see Farleigh grin. It seems that Mr. Bailey has already chosen his favorite student. You never even stood a chance.

Once he makes it to your row and picks up your test, you begin to pack up your things. “I’ll have these graded by tomorrow. Please don’t complain to me if you fail. That’s on you.” You scoff quietly at your teacher’s harsh remarks as you make your way to the door. Thank God that was your last class of the day. Now you can head back to your dorm.

Farleigh falls into step next to you. “So, how’d that go for you?” You stare straight ahead, focusing on the path ahead of you. “Good. Honestly, it was easier than I expected.” You reply. It’s half truth. It was slightly easier than you were preparing yourself for, but you usually prepare yourself for the worst. But you can’t let him know that you still struggled.

“Really. Hmm,” He hums, and you glare up at him. “What?” You study his expression. He must think you’re lying, based on his little smirk and raised eyebrows. “Nothing. It’s just… we both know math is not your strong suit,” He pauses and you stop next to him. “Okay, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be good at it.” You scowl up at him and he just grins.

“Unlike you, I actually study.” You continue walking, hoping he’ll leave you alone, but he follows you. “Aw, you actually need to study? Sad.” He pouts and you actually feel the urge to strangle him.

You turn around abruptly and he stops in his tracks. “Alright. Lovely talking with you. Bye!” You wave with a fake smile. Farleigh looks a bit surprised by your reaction. There’s only so much of his insults you can take.

“Bye,” He quietly mutters as you turn back around, walking quicker and more determined, putting some confidence into your step.

You groan and flop onto your bed once you enter your dorm. Suddenly, you realize how sleepy you are as your eyelids feel heavy You cover your face with a pillow and sigh, wishing you could rest. It sounds wonderful. But you have work to do. Reading, studying, the list goes on.

You chose this boarding school because you heard it was most similar to the Oxford experience, campus wise. It was also named the most prestigious secondary school in London. You often become very homesick, though, and you long for the comfort of your parents and your real home. At least it’s preparing you for university.

You groan once again into the pillow before sitting up and pushing the idea of sleep away. It’s time to get to work.

The next day, you wait to get your calculus test back. Mr. Bailey is handing them out while you overthink and prepare yourself for a failing grade. What would you do if you actually failed? You think you would rather be pushed off of a tall building than receive an F on a test.

Suddenly, a paper lands on your desk. You quickly glance down and see ‘97.5’ written in red ink at the top of the paper. Your eyes widen and you feel relief wash over you. Thank the Lord. You grin and pick up your test, inspecting it closer and going over your errors.

You hear someone coming up behind you. You quickly flip your paper over, hiding the grade from whoever is lurking over your shoulder. But it’s too late.

“Not bad…” A deep, American voice chuckles quietly. You turn around in your chair, and to no surprise, Farleigh is standing there with his arms crossed. He’s already seen your grade.

“Stop looking at my grades,” You hiss. “Relax, I was just curious.” He smirks at your frustration and holds up his own test. You see a ‘98’ scrawled up at the top along with a ‘good job’ next to it. You huff in response, turning back around.

“That’s not even much better than mine,” You mutter. “What’s that?” He asks, leaning over your shoulder, his breath ghosting over your neck. You shiver and remain silent, unable to repeat yourself for some reason.

“Sorry, who got the better grade?” Farleigh questions, his voice lowered. You let out a small sigh, ready to admit your defeat. “You.” You reply quietly.

“Right.” And then he’s gone, probably heading back to his own desk. What a bitch. You roll your eyes and pinch the space between your eyes, shaking your head. Yeah, he got .5 more points than you, and it doesn’t seem like much. But for Farleigh, it’s a huge win. But you’ll get him back. You always do. And you’re going to be the one who makes it into Oxford, you are sure of it.

---

Having academic rivalry with Peter Parker

Masterlist

---

honey-

HONEY– 😀✋❤

Be astronomically fr rn BC WTF?!?! You blew this trope's back out😩

minho was such a btch istg i wanted to slap him but like at the same time it was needed for character development???

THE GEOLOGY?!?! I know it was for the sake of the story but you incorporated it in so well👏

Jisung was so 'wow' by 3racha in this😭 like 100% expected him to go all 'jeogiyo noona' on the mc💀 besides, she has a bit of a dom-ish vibe and he was serving sub in this so.... 🤷👀

ISTG IF THIS WAS ONE OF THOSE CHOICES GAMES (LIKE EPISODES) I WOULD HAVE CHOSEN SEUNGMIN, NO QUESTIONS ASKED IDFC!!! Like, mc, bae!!! What are you doing sleeping on this scrump-dilly-iscous man when you could be sleeping WITH him, yk?

But Minho was worth the struggle in the end, sigh. His audacity tho-

Anygays, another feather in your cap Tannie <3 and it's such a beautiful addition,thank you for blessing us with this💕

EASY [reloaded] — (18+!)

"This all reminds me of our time together back then, you know.”

“What time together?”

“Ah, you know. When we used to compete in each class, you were always trying to be better than me.” He pauses. “Unsuccessfully.”

🌋 SYNOPSIS: Minho and you have been enemies since you've been studying together, so it's not surprising that he's a little amused once he realises, you're one of his students in the first class he will be teaching. Until he realises there might be more than just rivalry that makes him think about you constantly...

📙 CONTENT INFO: minho x afab reader, enemies to lovers, enemy minho, professor minho, college student reader, smut with a lot of plot basically, they are the same age but he graduated earlier, minho is a little mean in this one but it’s his insecurities, a few random facts about rocks because reader is geology student, this is part of a series but can be read as a standalone

🧡 CONTENT WARNING: insecurities especially about intelligence and academic success, mention of mental health issues but nothing specified, jealousy, reader is wearing a skirt, smut warnings under the cut

🪨 WORD COUNT: 10.0K (I apologise)

🔥 SMUT: dom/sub dynamics, fingering, unprotected piv, sir kink, brat/brat tamer kink, praise, degrading, one kiss happens while they are drunk but nothing more, name calling (doll, baby, good girl)

You’ve never been the best at sticking to regular plans—instead always trying to achieve things your own way.

No matter if it’s dumping recipes and switching out ingredients when making a five star meal, copying choreographies of your favourite songs and adding little twists (quite literally) or following building instructions on all the items and furniture you’ve purchased from IKEA. Although, when it comes to the latter it hasn’t always been intended. Those guidelines are the worst.

The same has counted for studying since the beginning of your educational career path.

Geology has always been your thing. Your niche. The subject that keeps you going but sometimes—or rather often—mental health comes in the way and blocks this path, the rocks—pun intended—a real hindrance that make your feet hurt when stumbling over them once again but you will keep going anyway.

At your own pace, though.

The prettiest crystals didn’t form overnight. They needed many millions of years, great transformation at the right temperature and pressure and it seems as if you haven’t been able to cope with that high amount of pressure over the past years.

It’s no big deal. You’re privileged enough, luckily, that both your family and a part-time job are helping you financially and the college you are studying at doesn't demand expensive fees either.

However, with the possibility of adding another ‘I-will-just-do-this-class-next-semester’ and a few more of ‘oh-I-can-take-the-exam-the-following-summer’ you have become a little lightheaded and even lazier.

You aren’t actually lazy by any means. You just struggle with the way university and the curriculum is constipated. Educational freedom is important but deep down you’re craving someone to lead the way for you. Even though you would never ever admit that.

Nevertheless, you find yourself in front of your computer. The unattended matcha latte next to your bed gets watery from the ice cubes melting due to the warm temperature the heater provides in your dorm.

Your gaze is fixated on the bright screen in front of you, eyes glassy from the overstimulation of the neon lights. God. Whoever designed your college’s website needs to be fired. Immediately.

Once you have managed to find the course you are looking for which took you an embarrassingly long time—but again, that website is straight from hell—you search for the button that will make you join the class.

But you hold your breath for a second when your eyes roam over the professor’s name that sounds a little too familiar for your liking.

Lee Minho, M. Sc.

The Lee Minho, who started studying with you some years ago?

Nah. It can’t be. That’s impossible and too fast even for an overachiever like him. Besides that, it is a very common combination of names and could be anyone.

Anyway—it doesn’t matter. You have to take that class now. You can’t add yet another semester because there is a slight chance to almost zero that it could be your former college rival.

So, you press the dark blue button, type in a TAN-code that is required and hit send.

🌋

You wake up… utterly wasted.

Caused by an impulsive thought, triggered by your self-pity due to overthinking your whole life—a regular hobby of yours especially after evening hours—you emptied a bottle of white wine in one sitting after organising your time table.

Luckily, you got an email that your applications for all the classes were successful—opposite to your ability to wake up on time for once.

You grab the first sweater that crosses your vision and the baggy jeans that are laying on the chair a.k.a the ‘worn-but-not-dirty-enough-to-spend-half-your-income-at-the-laundromat’-chair. A half-empty bottle of calcareous tap water and an apple will work as your wannabe fancy breakfast until you decide to make an excursion to your favourite coffee shop nonetheless. You’re already too late anyway.

Only five minutes after the class has started, you enter the crowded room, occupying the last spot. To your demise, you soon realise that you may have forgotten about one tiny, maybe important detail. Your stupid study appliances. When you turn your head around in order to get a better view of the other students, you soon get aware that you don’t know even a single soul in here. It does make sense though, since they are all very much younger than you are.

You quickly create a faux notebook from a few crumpled pieces of paper and as you reach at the bottom of your backpack, you find a functioning pen in the process. Just when you’re about to move your head back up from under the table—almost letting your forehead collide with the thick wooden material—the door of the classroom opens, revealing the professor.

No.

This can’t be.

This is impossible.

It can’t actually be him.

As it seems, none of your drunk prayers last night have helped.

The brunette immediately spots you due to you sitting in the front row and you regret getting late to class now.

Fuck.

Hoping no one—and especially not the professor—notices, you bury your face in the palms of your hands and concentrate on pretending you're scribbling some words on your makeshift notebook. In the meantime, he grabs a pen from the little drawer of his desk and takes his time to write down broad, beautiful letters on the whiteboard.

Lee Minho, M. Sc.

It is in fact him.

The guy who started college with you many years ago. The guy you used to compete with in every class you were in. The guy who sucked even the last piece of sanity out of your body whenever he opened his mouth in order to annoy you just for the fun of it.

God, how you did not miss him.

You were actually convinced he started teaching at some other university after his graduation. At least that’s what Seungmin told you and Seungmin always knows everything considering he is the reincarnation of Gossip Girl. But it seems as if your best friend wasn’t aware of that tiny detail or Minho simply spontaneously changed jobs.

Probably just to annoy the shit out of you once again. Yes, this is as delusional as it gets. This is what years of rivalry do to you.

You’re awakened by your daydreams when Minho turns around again, finding your hidden face in an instant. He chuckles to himself, the infamous mischevious smirk decorating his pretty face.

And that’s the thing. While Minho is the most annoying, pretentious and overall exhausting human being—you cannot ignore the fact that you are attracted to him. Well. It’s hard not to be—whoever does not find him incredibly hot is lying.

“Ms Y/L/N.”

You swear you heard your name in the distance and once you feel dozens of pairs of eyes glued to your body, you get aware that it was the professor calling you out.

Very much unprofessional, isn’t it?

“What is the difference between a granite and a basalt?”

The staring contest between all those other students and the back of your head doesn’t stop anytime soon and you are captured in between your own anxious thoughts developing into full panic mode and Minho’s evil gaze on your face that is heating up rapidly.

“I don’t know, sorry,” you admit, still very much successfully avoiding his eyes.

However, you don’t miss how he raises an eyebrow and steps closer to the table you are sitting at. His hand brushes over the wooden surface, his view sticks to the doodling on your crinkly paper, as Minho suppresses a judgemental look. Not surprising you’re still not finished with your studies when you’re already losing focus during attendance.

“This knowledge is mandatory in my class.”

His voice is louder now, as he is speaking to the whole group of students. Minho tilts his head towards you one last time, before he catches the blue-inked sketch between two of his fingers and crumbles it inside his palm.

“Everyone got the email with the information to already read the first chapter of Basic Knowledge of Volcanology for Beginners. You’re here to learn something so it’s up to you to do your own research and participate if you want to get that degree. I am getting paid anyway.”

He adds a chuckle at the end of his sentence and you can feel the atmosphere in the cramped room thickening, the anxiety of all the other students very much present.

Professor Lee Minho is exactly like you have always imagined him. Just like he used to be back then—but he upgraded in strictness and annoyance by one thousand and thirteen degrees, the pressure he puts on his students is ridiculously intense.

Everything after that is a full blur. Probably—or more definitely—a coping mechanism of your brain helping you drift away in your thoughts. Luckily, the earlier provocation was enough for Minho’s taste as he leaves you alone for the rest of the ongoing class, rather getting back to his long ass boring monologue.

God. This dude really enjoys listening to himself, doesn’t he?

But your illusion of protection does not last that long, when Minho asks you to stay after class.

It is a mystery to you how he doesn’t seem to realise how suspicious he is behaving. Of course, it’s not a crime to know your student or have a somewhat past with them but, in your opinion, it makes him seem so unprofessional. Which, on another note, gives you a little boost of confidence caused by your deep rooted malicious joy when it comes to Lee Minho.

“Y/N,” he doesn’t use your surname for the first time today, creating a much more casual atmosphere. “Nice to see you again.”

“I wish I could say the same,” you counter.

Your pen and the remains of your notes crash down your tote bag, hitting the apple and water bottle in the process.

“Well, correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t this a class for first semester students?”

A dirty chuckle escapes his lips and you swear you can hear him click his tongue in the process.

“Yeah. What about it?”

He shakes his head. Pretentiously.

“Nah, nothing. But this means you’re more experienced than my other students. You should prepare better next time. This all reminds me of our time together back then, you know.”

“What time together?”

“Ah, you know. When we used to compete in each class, you were always trying to be better than me.” He pauses. “Unsuccessfully.”

“What do you want, Minho?”

“For you to not make a fool of yourself next week. Better be prepared, doll.”

With an emphasis on the pet name he grabs his stuff and leaves the classroom.

Fucking unprofessional.

But for some reason, he creates a sensation of excitement in your stomach, threatening to wander south if he doesn’t stop any time soon.

This semester will definitely not be easy.

🌋

As expected, the weeks pass by without a Monday of Minho not annoying the shit out of you. The primar anxiety subsided, especially once you start actually preparing for the classes. You’re not overworking yourself, basically just doing the bare minimum but it’s enough to not make a fool of yourself.

Professor Lee stays as unprofessional as ever—preferring to make you answer his question in class. Does he still not realise that this portrays the both of you in a… suspicious light?

Everyone seems to be aware. Except for the man himself.

During your obligatory lunch breaks with your best friend, Seungmin seems to catch up on the topic regularly. Why did you befriend him again?

“You must still have a crush on him or something.”

Again. Why did you befriend him?

Nowadays you regret telling Seungmin years ago that you used to have a slight crush on Minho. Your best friend told you to wake up from your enemies-to-lovers dream, reminding you of how bothersome and vexatious Minho really is.

“I don't,” you half-lie, “I’m just using this chance to get a good grade, okay?”

Seungmin stirs around in his food, the fried rice on his spoon falling into the bowl again.

“Sure, dude.”

You roll your eyes at his words, deciding to not bother with it anymore. This is so not true. You have developed a liking in volcanology because you’ve realised it’s actually interesting after digging deeper into the material of the course. It is definitely not because Minho has achieved exactly what he has been on about—getting a reaction out of you and, currently, making you his best student.

A win-win situation, isn’t it?

It could be, if your heart wasn’t pounding as much whenever he is walking through the entrance of the classroom, whenever you spot him on campus or whenever a notification gets sent to your phone, indicating you received an email from your professor. Although, it was sent to all the other thirty students too.

Ah, yes. We found the word we have been looking for!

Delusional. That’s what you have been these days. All because of stupid Lee Minho.

Seeing him at least once a week doesn’t make it any easier. But luckily, you’ve found a new friend in his class, a companion to suffer together. Even though he doesn’t know details about your background with Minho, Jisung shares the mutual feeling you have about the volcanology professor.

“Hey, Y/N, how are you?”

His smile enlightens the room, his cheeks are so squishable they boost your mood by one thousand and two hundred degrees in an instant. You’re glad the both of you are in this together.

“You forgot your homework again, Ji?” You ask him, reading through his hidden message covered in a kind gesture.

“What?! No! Never! Why would you– yeah, I did. Can you tell me what it was about?”

He makes you chuckle, your hand automatically traveling towards your face, covering the wrinkles around the corners of your mouth. Jisung adores the face you make whenever he achieves to let a laugh spill from your lips. Oh, your beautiful lips.

The younger boy would be lying if he said he hasn’t catched himself thinking about you as more than just a friend before. Sure, you’re only two years older but he just knows you would never think of him as more than just a funny classmate.

And besides that, even though most people in this room are convinced from quite the opposite, he doesn’t get the idea out of his head that there’s a weird, almost sexual tension between you and the professor. Maybe, that’s the reason he dislikes Mr Lee so much.

Jisung is torn out of his daydreaming—luckily you were so deeply absorbed by the scientific paper in front of you that you didn’t catch him ogling you from the side—when Minho enters the classroom. The atmosphere shifts faster than lightning speed, when he lets his heavy leather bag hit the desk in front of the whiteboard.

“So. I don’t have any time for any complaints or whatever’s on your mind, let’s just start with the lesson. We have lots to catch up on.”

He circles the wooden furniture with long steps, before he sinks down on the top of it, getting a better view of his students.

“Can someone summarise where we left off last week?”

Of course, everyone is exhaustingly avoiding eye contact with the professor now as if one’s life is depending on it. You do the same, even though you could have tattooed a ‘choose me’ on your forehead since Minho prefers to pick you anyway. Just to make fun of you, as always. Although it’s been some weeks, that dude seems to become more immature with each lesson he is teaching.

“Ms Y/L/N, could you please tell the class what we talked about last Monday.”

Panic. Your palms are getting sweaty, knees turning weak like jello in an instant when the sound of your name travels into your ears.

You don’t even get why you’re immediately turning into an anxious mess. That’s the effect he has on you. Thank you, Lee Minho.

But you take a deep breath nonetheless and try to let out a few words.

“Yes, uhm– last week we–“

When shifting your gaze up, you notice how Minho starts rolling his eyes, visibly annoyed by the way you’re speaking and not even managing to form one simple sentence.

“Talk a bit more unenthusiastically and I might wake up.”

What an asshole. Anxiety turns into extreme anger then. You’ve had enough of this. How dare he make you look like an absolute idiot in front of all these students?

Of course, you can already hear chuckling sounds erupting from behind you, cracking a little more of your almost non-existing self esteem.

It’s at this moment that you sense a shuffling beside you, dragging you out of your stage close to zoning out, snapping you back to reality. It’s Jisung, turning a little closer to you, his mouth right at your ear now.

“You can do this. You’re the smartest one in here.”

Desperately holding back a small giggle, you allow his kind words to give you a little confidence. As much as you need. In addition, he lays his hand on yours, squeezing it tight to reassure you a little more. Your posture is upright now and you’re ready to stand your ground.

You’ve got this, Y/N.

“That makes two of us, Mr Lee,” you begin then, still avoiding eye contact but your gaze wanders around in the room as if you are searching for the fucks to give.

“Where was I? Ah, right! The classification of pyroclastic rocks. We differentiate between blocks, lapilli and ash, considering the rock’s size. There are diverse types of deposition as well, for instance, we analysed pictures of two different ignimbrites, a solidified one, showing chemical zones, and a welded one, consisting of a coherent matrix made of ash. But the main topic of the previous lesson was learning what fallouts are.”

You can see Minho’s face scrunching, desperately trying to not snap because of your attitude but that’s what he gets for showing you up in front of everyone.

But he can withstand it.

Both the way you’re gaining confidence over the conversation and the fact you’re incredibly hot doing it–

Fuck. He really needs to focus now. Minho feels so unprofessional. And pathetic, letting his student win this passive aggressive argument.

It doesn’t help that he witnessed you holding hands with your classmate and if it was up to him, he would pull Jisung’s body away from yours and make him fail his class and all the following simply for touching you.

But he has to be professional.

“Could you elaborate on this as well?”

You nod, now fully back in the rhythm of defeating your arch enemy when it comes to academia. The adrenaline boost this gives you is beyond insane.

“Of course”, you go on, “fallouts are nothing more than the process of pyroclastic fractions falling out gravitationally, caused in case of the shrinking of the dynamic uplifting. Sometimes it’s possible that parts of the eruptive column of the volcano collapse, but we haven’t talked about that yet.”

Now you’re even adding the knowledge that he was supposed to teach to his class today. What goes around that comes around.

Y/N: 1; Minho: 0

But—even though he seems to forget it with every breath he takes—he can’t go all in with this little feud. There are thirty other people in here that aren’t paying college fees to see a professor fight some older student, when in reality he could take the anger out on you in a different way. A way that would be so easy if you would just let him.

Fuck, what Minho would do to bend you over his table whenever you talk back at him. Lift your short skirt up, spank your pretty ass whenever you disobey his rules. Stretch your tight little pussy with his fingers first, until you’re ready for his cock. Just to make you cum all over him again and again.

But that has to wait for now.

He has to stay professional, after all.

“Well done,” he says, “thanks for the transition to today’s topic.”

Just now you come to the realisation that your palms aren’t only uncomfortably sweaty, but one of them is still very much pressed against Jisung’s. When your friend sees you overthinking it, after you pull apart, he reassures you once again.

“Don’t worry, angel. I haven’t even noticed. But I’m very much fascinated by what a brainiac you are.”

You sink your head down, covering your shyness behind your hands, as you feel your face heat up. Still, you thank him and when Jisung looks at you like a little puppy taking care of his favourite human, you get all shy again.

Even though it’s hard for him—even harder than a certain body part whenever he thinks of you on a lonely night—Minho refrains from asking you more questions for the rest of the lesson. His ego is severely hurt, although he would never admit that.

It’s nothing new but with the heated conversation still lingering in the back of your head, you enter a spiral of overanalysing the looks the others gave you when you talked with the professor. From time to time, it even feels as if they are still staring, but somehow you manage to focus on your assigned task again.

For lunch, Jisung and you decide to take a quick break at the closest cafeteria on campus. Other kinds of science majors are usually busy around these early afternoon hours, so the both of you are lucky to quickly find a spacious table right at the window.

The weather is beautiful today, probably the highest temperature you have had this year so far and you're once again surprised, how a little glimpse of the sun shining through the clouds hypes up your mood by endless levels.

However, Jisung seems occupied in his head. As if there’s something bothering him, something crossing his mind that he doesn’t know how to explain to you. To encourage him, you ask him if there’s something wrong.

“N-No– it’s nothing. At least– definitely none of my business anyway, sorry.”

The duality this part-time brat carries is unbelievable. Jisung plays with you, pretending to not be interested—in whatever he wants to propose a question about—but you can see it in the look on his face, filled by the same amount of curiosity a child has when they accidentally find their birthday presents hiding in a big bag in the parent’s bedroom.

“Come on, ask me what you want.”

Jisung moves in his seat, now all of a sudden being showered with insecurity again. Almost as if he is thinking about something that shouldn’t be on his mind.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

“I could never,” you reassure him and that’s all your friend needs.

“I think I’m not the only one who has noticed the weird dynamic between the professor and you. Well– it makes me wonder if the two of you know each other–“

You sigh, unintentionally, and Jisung is fast to start apologising again but you stop him, as you lay your hand on his this time. The dark haired boy prays to God, that you don’t see the way he blushes, a pinkish curtain covering his squishy cheeks.

“I’ve already assumed that people talk. But it’s really nothing. We started university together some years ago and we used to attend the same classes and… kinda competed with each other all the time. He views it as a great success that he is my teacher now out of a sudden, you know, since we’re the same age and it probably gives him an enormous ego boost.”

Jisung attentively nods, as he tries to focus on your words instead of the way your skin is touching his, still.

“And to be honest,” you continue, “I am kinda intrigued by him. He’s often making me feel insecure about my skills and yeah– secretly I know that he’s the smarter one. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be teaching in the position he is in now.”

Jisung’s facial expression softens, before it gets filled with a little empathy, almost pity, until it turns into disappointment.

He squeezes your hand, to which you react, only now realising the both of you are still connected. But it’s comfortable. It always is with Jisung.

“Listen, Y/N,” his voice is a lot more serious now, “just because he finished university before you, doesn’t mean he’s smarter. There’s a difference between achieving a goal fast and being actually good at something.”

These are the words you needed. Sometimes your brain tricks you into thinking you’re not good enough, not strong enough, not talented enough. But that’s what good friends are for—picking you up again and bringing you back to reality.

Jisung senses that you’re feeling a little better now, although there is still something on your mind.

“Do you think… people could take the dynamic the wrong way?”

The boy in front of you shrugs his shoulders.

“I don’t know. I can only speak for myself. All I have noticed is that he puts a lot more pressure on you and I was afraid that he, maybe, might disadvantage you or something. That’s why I asked.”

That’s not the only reason he wanted to talk to you about this, but it’s neither the right place nor the right time to speak about what’s on his mind still.

🌋

You’re nine weeks into the semester and pretty much done with it, but your courses aren’t yet. seventeen more days until your final volcanology exam and then you will be a somewhat free student again.

To celebrate summer being right around the corner, you’re dragging Seungmin to the campus party tonight, glad that he could be convinced—after a thirty minute talk and after you promised to pay for all the drinks tonight since he then pretty quickly agreed to attend this booze-up.

Obviously, the campus is more crowded than usual since most college students value alcohol a lot higher than good grades and you spot a lot of familiar faces from the geology department and other science majors. You don’t know anyone personally, except for your best friend right by your side, so that’s why the two of you stick together like glue.

While Seungmin is busy buying drinks at a random temporary setup bar made out of tables from one of the classrooms—the beer being paid with your money of course—you look around a bit, until a girl crosses your vision.

She’s already approaching you and at a closer look you realise that she’s part of your volcanology class, too.

“Hey, Y/N, how are you?”

You can smell that Ryujin has probably had a few drinks already, but you don’t mind. She’s mostly been kind to you, although you haven’t interacted that much except for when you were assigned to do group projects together in class.

She pulls you into a quick hug but you allow her to and blame it on the alcohol.

“Are you here alone or waiting for a special someone?”

Ryujin is probably referring to the odd way you’re standing here, although her words are a little too straightforward for your liking. Fiddling with the pretty nephrite gemstone that is attached to your bracelet, you give her a confused look before you manage to reply.

“No, I’m waiting for my friend. He’s getting drinks for us.”

Ryujin, taking a sip from her own beer-lemonade mix, shoots a suggestive look in your direction.

“Oh, a male friend? Better be careful, I’ve spotted Mr Lee somewhere around here as well. Don’t tell him, he might get jealous.”

You can instantly feel your face heating up and you pray that she doesn’t notice the embarrassed look you are carrying now.

But, unfortunately, she does. And the fact you’re not capable of talking anything back, thickens the tension this conversation already has. She gets a little closer to you then, aligning her mouth right at your ear, as if she is afraid that someone is even remotely close to being able to understand a single syllable in this loud area.

“Am I wrong with my assumptions? I’m not the only one in class thinking the two of you are hooking up,” she whispers.

“Is he mean to you in bed, too? Is this what the both of you get off to? I’ve heard he’s pretty big, is that correct?”

God, why can’t she mind her own business? You really thought that Ryujin was nice but then again, you don’t know her that well and she’s pretty tipsy, maybe even drunk.

But once she realises that she won’t get an answer from you, she pulls you into a hug again—as you stand there paralysed—before saying goodbye to you.

“Anyway, it was nice to see you, Y/N. Let’s talk again some time.”

🌋

Three beers later and a few hours into the night, Seungmin and you decide to take part in a campus beer pong battle. After all you’re an experienced team when it comes to this game, having developed the best strategies over the last years in college and before.

So, it’s not a surprise you are convinced you can keep up with anyone and so far your high success rate proves exactly this. After defeating everyone in your group, you’ve made it to the finale, now destined to play against the other winners.

“The usual strategy?” Your best friend asks then, casually pinching the white ball between his thumb and index finger.

You nod at him, as you take the last sip out of your plastic cup—you’ve switched from beer to beer mixed with lemonade an hour ago, driven by excitement to win this game. Sure, getting shitfaced is the point of both beer pong and a campus party, but Seungmin and you are too destined to win.

“Oh, nice to see you here.”

The voice is familiar. A little too familiar for your liking.

And once your head snaps up, you’re greeted with a tipsy Minho, standing at the other side of the table. Next to him, is a guy quite the same height but a little more buff then your professor. His blonde curls hide his forehead mostly and he looks just as ambitious as all the other contestants.

Minho walks around the table now, standing right in front of Seungmin.

“I think I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Minho. Y/N and I used to study together.”

Seungmin pretends that the name isn’t familiar to him. After all, your best friend is the only one that knows you have a little crush on the professor that gets on your last nerve. But Seungmin is a good friend and plays it cool, as he tells the other man his own name.

After both teams fill the cups with enough liquid, the game starts and Minho really wants to be attentive and give his best. He really does.

But, unfortunately, all he can focus on is the interaction between your best friend and you. It’s very innocent—it always is. Seungmin and you have been best friends your whole life, practically like siblings, there is not a single thing for you that puts him in a romantic or sexual light and he shares the same opinion about you.

Of course, Minho doesn’t know about that part. For him, Seungmin is just some guy that you are playing beer pong with, that you hug whenever you score a trick-shot and that you’re pretty close to in general.

And when your best friend finally hits the ball into the last remaining cup on the side of the opponent team, carrying home the victory for you, Minho almost loses his temper. The way Seungmin is embracing you, pulling you closer to him and even adding a little tipsy kiss to your cheek is enough to make him go completely furious.

Faster than you’re able to realise, Minho stands right beside you, laying his hand on your shoulder to spin you around towards him.

That’s when you look into his eyes as deeply as you have never done before. The dark brown colour is hypnotising, putting you under a spell. He’s definitely as tipsy as you—if not even more.

At least that would explain his next sentence.

“Congratulations, great game. Can we talk for a moment?”

To say you’re surprised would be an understatement. But there’s not even half a second to think, when he’s already reaching for your hand, searching for any second guesses hinting that you don’t want to be alone with him.

Of course, he didn’t ask you that. But you’re both drunk and given the history you share, he wouldn’t expect you to voluntarily speak to him alone for more than a minute.

You shoot your best friend a quick glance, this way telling him that you're safe, before you toddle behind Minho. His fingers circle around your wrist, as he drags you through the large crowd, in his current state not caring at all if there’s someone recognising the both of you.

Abruptly, once you’re a little further away from where the party is going on, he stops at a corner. In front of the biochemistry building now, he guides you towards the exterior wall of the house, spinning you around with just a little strength needed.

Your back crashes into the wall, but it doesn’t hurt or you simply don’t notice, judging your high level of intoxication.

And all of a sudden he’s so dangerously close to you, his breath tingling your neck, lips hovering over the skin with only a millimetre of air separating your bodies. Minho places one of his forearms right beside you, cageing you between the cold bricks behind and his athletic body in front of you.

No way to escape.

But you’re not interested in that anyway.

Minho’s other hand brushes your jaw all so softly, before his index finger lands under your chin, slightly pulling your head up in the process. Now on eye level with him, his gaze meets your own and you’re lost in this deep colour again. Prettier than the prettiest gemstones you’ve ever seen.

And then Minho speaks or rather whispers, heating up your face from outside and inside.

“I can’t even put into words how much you annoy me, it’s insane.”

You chuckle, knowing exactly what hides behind these words and your assumptions turn out to be true, once his lips collide with your neck. He sucks on the skin, rough kisses hypnotising you all over again and when they graze over the spot right under your ear, you can’t help but let out a moan.

“I would have never thought teaching a class is that exhausting, but your constant competition is really making it hard… not just the class, baby.”

A smirk is decorating your face now and by the way his lips lay against your skin, you’re sure he has got the same mimics as you. One of his hands wanders down now, squeezing your ass through the thick fabric of your jeans and you can hear him chuckle into your ear.

Embarrassingly enough, another moan slips out of your mouth but Minho soon drowns out the noise, when his lips crash into yours. It’s as if all the piled up tension is forgotten, all the teasing comments vanishing away, all the rivalry leaving the both of you, when you focus on the way he is kissing you—passionately, without a single sign of regret.

“You know what’s the worst part about this, baby? It’s hard to admit but your intelligence is intimidating to me– you’re definitely smarter than me and–“

And that’s when regret does hit him.

He suddenly stops, his whole body freezing, paralysed.

Until the words that he formed himself register in his head.

You can’t stop yourself. You didn’t sit through nine weeks of constant stress to let this triumph slip.

“What did you say, Minho? Did I hear that correctly?”

The smirk decorates your face so evilly and in the back of his mind Minho thinks you’re so hot for talking back at him once again, for standing up for yourself. He’s adored you before—all secretly of course—but since he’s been challenging you and observing you growing more and more confident, you’ve been occupying his thoughts like a constant guest.

Unfortunately, he is not there yet—at the point to actually be completely honest with himself and, even more importantly, with you.

“I didn’t say anything,” he lies through his teeth then and as if this isn’t enough, more words spill from his lips.

“Except for you being annoying and pissing me off.”

You roll your eyes back, completely frustrated. You should have known. Minho finally breaks out of his thick shell and then he gets scared and the insecurities take over him. Although, the warm side he carries in him is the one you even prefer a little more.

“Don’t play dumb, repeat what you’ve just said.”

He turns to the side then, as his palm wanders upwards to cover his mouth. His eyes shut close, as he takes a deep breath and contemplates how to continue.

“I don’t know what you mean,” and that’s when his drunk self and the old Minho take over, “maybe you’re just imagining stuff, like the stupid little girl you are.”

You scoff, blatantly, before you shove him aside, shoulders bumping into each other. Your vision is blurry—both from the alcohol and the tears pricking at your lower lash line—but you somehow manage it through the crowd in order to search for Seungmin.

In the distance you can hear Minho calling your name, saying that he is sorry or some shit, but you don’t listen.

Luckily, you find your best friend quicker than expected and when he notices the tears running down your cheeks, he instantly pulls you into a hug.

“Did he do something that you didn’t want? Did he hurt you, Y/N?”

You shake your head, as you watch the salty droplets from your eyes staining Seungmin’s shirt, before you pull away to look at him.

“Physically? No. Verbally? Maybe.”

There’s something else than just empathy on Seungmin’s face now. Anger, almost.

“What an idiot– where is he–“

“Minnie, no. He didn’t mean it. He’s just immature and insecure and doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions.”

He takes a deep breath, brushing away the tears that are glistening on your skin.

“He still hurt you.”

You sigh, giving him a small smile.

“It’s okay, really. Can we just go home?”

“Of course.”

🌋

The last three and a half weeks have been a blur. A fever dream, almost. The days have been filled with studying and staying at the library with Jisung and Seungmin—who have become very good friends—to cramp as much knowledge as possible into your steaming head.

You’ve also spent a pathetic amount of time not thinking of Minho and the last two lessons were more than a little awkward. Although, you have noticed him observing you all the time, as if he’s trying to say something, apologise for insulting you. He even messages you one day, asking if the both of you can talk again, but you’re way too busy with studying and ignoring him anyway, so you haven’t realised that you received the text at all.

Luckily, throughout this whole time you can count on the midnight cup ramyeon, cola zero and your friends just being there for you. And in the blink of an eye, the three of you are crawling from one club to another, celebrating your freedom after doing your best on the exam.

The constant partying since then is the reason you slept so long today, Saturday afternoon sunlight hitting your face and you’re surprised the hangover isn’t as terrible as expected.

You take a long shower, make yourself some leftover food and a tea, before you switch back to the current drama you are watching.

Until you get a notification from your student mail account.

It’s an automatic message, telling you the grade of your volcanology exam can be found on the university’s website.

That was quicker than you thought, considering the fact it was a test including lots of questions which you had to answer with whole sentences.

After fighting with the stupidity of your school’s website again, you find yourself scrolling down to your achievements, finding an additional grade for this semester.

97%

If there is a textbook definition of ‘relieved’ it would definitely be the emotion you are experiencing in your whole body right now.

The hard work paid off and you’re fast to grab your phone, messaging Seungmin and Jisung, also asking the latter if he’s got a grade yet as well.

Just when you’re about to hit ‘send’, the notification sound from your computer echoes through your room and your head snaps up towards the screen.

You open the mail and read it.

Dear Students,

I’m happy to tell you most of the students in my class passed the exam, even though the results are improvable with some exceptions. As you know, it’s not possible to give back the test papers to you, since we have to archive them. If you have questions regarding your grades or the exam in general, you can come to my office on Monday, at the same time as our class, and we can talk about it in person. Please be patient in case many people show up.

Greetings,

Mr. Lee

No.

Never.

You can’t do this.

The idea is too ridiculous. You can’t show up when you’re probably the one who scored the highest points. Also, there’s only three percent missing—it’s probably just some tiny form error.

No…

You can’t just go there as an excuse to see Minho and finally talk to him about what happened and, basically, everything.

🌋

On Monday you find yourself in front of Minho’s office.

It is such a stupid idea that it’s unbelievable how you could be the one to score the highest in this class.

And you are indeed the only one who was that successful, judging the faces of the other students—a mixture of sadness because of their own grade and envy when they see you entering the hallway.

You’ve made sure to come here pretty late, wanting to be the last one in line. All these other students probably have much more important stuff to discuss—especially those who failed—so you don’t want to delay any of their schedules.

Once it’s your time to step inside the office, you hesitate first but after knocking three times and hearing a confident ‘come in’ erupting from the other side of the door, you decide to stick to your initial plan.

“Hi, I have a few questions regarding my grade.”

When Minho spots you his expression carries many facets that aren’t quite definable.

He looks annoyed, as always when he spots you. He looks furious, as if you shouldn’t be here. But he also looks both a little sad and hopeful, almost regretful, as if he has been waiting for this moment a little too long.

“Sure, take a seat.”

And so you do, sinking down on the chair at the opposite side of his table, sitting right in front of him now.

That’s when you look into his eyes again. They look the same as that night. But they also look different. Tired. Avoiding.

“What are your questions exactly?”

You shift in your seat, trying to get into a more comfortable position. In the meantime, Minho searches for your exam paper in the stack of all the others and places the test between the both of you, once he finds it.

Taking a little moment, you flick through the individual pages, pretending to be searching for something.

“I was wondering what the missing three percent were. I remember, there weren’t that many points to score and I am confused how such a small amount can be subtracted then.”

Minho nods, as he grabs the exam from you and skims through it, pretending to be searching for something as well. Until he stops.

“It’s mostly errors in your form. Your writing style isn’t really academic, at some parts it sounds as if a high school student wrote it.”

He’s doing it on purpose. Definitely. He knows exactly where he gets you with this—annoying you, teasing you, crawling under your skin with his words.

And you fall for it, every time.

“I see.”

“Do you have any further questions?”

His gaze stays focused on the test paper, before he lifts his head up and looks into your eyes.

“Yeah… but… not a-about the exam.”

You honestly don’t get why you’re so anxious now and you fear that the situation between the both of you, how you left off, has sparked more inside you than you would like.

“Technically,” Minho begins then and you can sense that he is rethinking every word that he is about to say.

“This is an appointment for exam evaluation only. But you’re the last student, so go on.”

You take a deep breath, scoffing to yourself about the ridiculousness of the situation, before you continue.

“How can I be both intimidating to you but also a stupid little girl at the same time?”

Minho’s face slowly meets the palms of his hands. He’s simultaneously relieved that you’re finally talking to him but also so furious that all this is brought up again.

“I– I’m not.”

He’s still hiding behind that thick layer. You can tell by the way he is avoiding your glares and fiddling with his silver rings.

Fuck. You’ve never paid attention to his hands that much, but his fingers look… pretty.

Almost as if they could make you feel very good, stretch you quite nicely and maybe even make you cum if Minho puts as much effort in as he does when challenging you.

God, this is not the time and place to be thinking about this now.

But then you see his eyes trailing down your curves, stopping right at the view of your thighs, just to snap up again and focus on your neck. He’s still got the taste of your lips on his, which is not surprising because for the last three and a half weeks Minho came almost every night to the thought of your pretty whimpers.

And when he catches you staring at his arms—his veins almost popping out—he knows you’re on the same page.

You both are pretty intelligent. Except when it comes to verbal communication—but luckily, there are other ways to argue.

That’s why you stand up and walk around the table until you’re behind Minho. Your hands land on his shoulders first, before they painfully slowly wander down his chest and through the material of his white button up shirt you can feel how firm he is.

“Mr Lee,” you begin then, knowing he won’t be able to withstand you if you address him like this and your intuitions turn out to be true.

“I’ve scored the highest in this class, always did my coursework on time and was your best student. I deserve at least a little explanation, don’t you think?”

That’s when you attach your lips to his neck and they feel so soft against his skin, Minho is already under your spell.

He can’t resist. And he doesn’t even want to. He can trust you enough to trust himself with his feelings. The curtain of insecurity, covered in meanness, has to fall now.

“Listen, I think my message got lost in your mails but…”

You stop with your movements for a second.

“I have never been intimidated by you but I’ve been intimidated by the possibility of getting suspended. This and all the insecurities and fears of rejection is the reason I behaved like a total asshole that night and I’m sorry for it.”

He gets up from his seat now and spins you around, as he takes the spot you were standing on a second ago.

And then, everything happens in the blink of an eye.

Minho grabs your jaw, pulling you closer to him, before his lips smash into yours in the most passionate and heated kiss you have ever experienced. It feels even better than that night a few weeks ago and this time you even invite his tongue in.

He’s impatient—after all he has wanted to devour your body for so long and especially whenever you talked back at him in class, he was dangerously close to snapping and just taking you in front of everyone else.

Especially Jisung.

God, Minho is still not over the fact your little friend was holding hands with you on a regular basis. He was even flirting with you but you didn’t notice.

But now he’s finally got you all to himself and he will make sure that you’ll never forget.

His hands make their way to your blouse, hastily opening every single button. Just like the other night, his lips are hovering over your neck again, sucking and biting the skin without mercy and you can’t help yourself but whimper.

“I wanted to apologise sooner,” he whispers, “but, you know, even if I manage to make sincere compliments, you let this get to your smart little head and ask me to repeat myself. It’s as if you can’t function without my attention, doll.”

You moan again, almost letting the syllables of his name escape your lips but you stop yourself.

“That’s not true,” you bluff. “I don’t care about that at all.”

Minho rips your bra in half, watching your tits bouncing, before he takes one of the buds inside his mouth, as one of his hands comes to help and massages the other.

“Min– Fuck–“

“Yeah, baby. Keep telling that to yourself. Do you know how pathetic you look right now? And all just for me?”

Your head falls back, as you simply can’t take it no more. Especially, when he moans against your skin, as if he’s enjoying this a little too much.

All while you try to ignore the way your panties are sticking to your pussy, the material all drenched and you convince yourself that’s only because of his captivating touches and not the words he uses.

But, you soon realise, Minho being mean isn’t just annoying—in combination with touching your body the way he does, it makes you crave more.

And you know exactly how you can get what you’re really longing for. By playing his game.

“You know, that makes two of us. You’re constantly trying to get my attention, too. It’s the same now, you’re all over me.”

He scoffs, as he abruptly lets go of your body, before his head wanders up and he’s on eye level with you again. Minho’s hand finds your face then, his fingers squishing your cheeks together roughly.

“Maybe I should just fuck the brat out of you, until you come to your senses, baby.”

Oh, God. Your underwear is practically sticking to you by now and you feel as if you have never been so wet before, just by some touches and a few little mean words from your enemy.

“Hm, I doubt that you could make me feel as good as you say.”

He chuckles. Minho lets his hand travel down your waist, glide over your hips, before it lands on your thighs. A moment later, he lifts you up and places you on top of his desk, standing between your legs now.

“You’re the one challenging me now?”

“Maybe…”

You’re not quite convinced and neither is he.

“You’re gonna regret this, doll.”

And you do, once his hand slips under your skirt and Minho wonders if you chose that outfit on purpose, knowing you have the same cliché desires that have been running on his mind since he became your professor.

You squirm in pleasure, when his fingertips collide with your underwear—as he finds the laces completely soaked, just for him.

“Pathetic little thing is all drenched just from a few touches, huh?”

He painfully slowly pushes the clothing aside, before two of his fingers start circling around your clit, finding your sensitive bud in an instant.

“Stop teasing, Minho, and just keep going already.”

He stops.

He brings his hand upwards again, as he aligns his fingers with your lips and you obediently part them for him, inviting him in just to taste yourself on his skin.

“I told you not to challenge me doll, do you get that?”

You want to talk back again, you really do.

But there are two problems.

One, he is shoving his fingers down your throat. Those pretty fingers that you weren’t able to take your eyes off just some minutes ago. And, well, this makes speaking a little hard.

Second, it seems as if you don’t want to anymore. You want to get to know the Minho that reacts to you finally listening to his words, obeying his rules and allowing him to take care of your body.

So, you nod.

He slides his fingers out of your mouth, the two digits covered into your saliva now, before he brings them right back between your legs.

But it’s not enough for him yet.

“Words, baby.”

He’s dangerously near to your aching hole now, circling around your entrance, ready to dip his fingers inside, both at once.

“Yes, I– I get that.”

You don’t want to stutter. But you can’t help it, when he’s teasing you like that.

“Are you gonna behave now and be a good girl?”

He pushes them inside and you immediately clench around them, your cunt sucking them in as if your body has been craving this exact touch for months. Not a complete lie, though.

“Y-Yes–“ you cry out, closing your eyes.

“Yes, what?”

And you know exactly what he needs to hear. One little word in addition.

“Yes, sir.”

He starts thrusting his fingers into you, stretching your walls so deliciously and when he grazes over that certain spot, curling his fingers inside you, you’re embarrassingly close after such a short amount of time.

“You like that, hm?”

You hastily nod, allowing a moan to spill from your lips.

“Sir–“ you whimper and Minho fears that he might cum in his pants when he hears you use that specific word on your own.

“N-Need more–“

His motions gain a slight bit of speed, as he curls his fingers inside you again.

“What do you need, doll?”

You cry out in pleasure, feeling the rope inside your lower stomach tighten to a knot, practically at the verge of snapping.

“Y-Your cock– inside me–“

He gives you the most mischievous smirk then, but you don’t notice, since your eyes are still closed in order to deal with the overwhelming sensation.

“Be a good girl and cum for me and I might consider it.”

And so you do. Your juices spill all over him, as your legs shake rapidly, your orgasm washing through your whole body. Minho makes sure to cover your mouth at the last second, when he realises how loud you’ve become.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he praises you, while he helps you ride out your high before he pulls his fingers out of you and guides them towards your mouth again.

You grab his wrist with both your hands, guiding his digits into your mouths, as you suck them clean.

“You’re so smart, baby, such a quick learner. Just how I’ve expected it from you.”

You look at him with awaiting eyes then and it seems as if Minho is able to read your mind. He spins you around a second later and your ass crashes into his covered crotch, poking into your soft flesh.

He lifts your skirt up and you obediently slide your panties down completely now, as the fabric lands on the floor. In the meantime, he is fumbling with his belt, before he slides his pants and underwear down.

Minho gives his length a few strokes, while you spread your legs for him, your upper body meeting the wooden surface in front of you.

“You ready, doll?”

“Yes, sir.”

Minho is afraid that he will seriously cum within a few seconds, when he only pushes the tip inside, already feeling your cunt hugging him so tightly.

“Fuck– you’re big,” you cry out.

“Want me to stop?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, no. I’ll get used to it, don’t worry.”

That’s all he needs to slowly go further and once he is completely inside, he pulls out again, just to repeat his first step until he is bottoming you out fully.

Minho starts with a steady pace then, pounding his cock into you just how you’ve imagined all these lonely nights for the past twelve weeks. But the reality is a thousand times better, so much more satisfying than just the idea of it.

And he senses you enjoying it. After all, you’re clenching around him non-stop, all whilst begging for more and holding onto the table for dear life.

Whenever you get a little too loud, Minho makes sure to spank your pretty ass, just how he’s always wanted to. You’re sure, the skin will feel bruised tomorrow, but you don’t care at all.

You simply can’t. He’s taking over your mind completely, put you under a spell solely by fucking so deliciously into your aching hole, brushing over that spot from time to time, just how you adore it.

That’s the reason why, by now, only mindless babbling escapes your mouth, which Minho identifies as praise for him and little pleas that he should go even harder.

“I can’t believe a smart girl like you is turning dumb from my cock so easily,” he mocks you and you can’t help yourself but agree.

“You’re– so good at this,” you say, drooling all over the surface underneath you, “should have done this sooner.”

Minho picks up his pace then, now thrusting into you at a merciless speed and when you think your body is already overwhelmed enough, he brings two of his fingers between your legs again and starts massaging your clit.

That’s all you need to tip over the edge for a second time and for once again, Minho covers your mouth with his palm, when you get a little too loud.

“Good girl, just like that,” he whimpers and you can sense his movements getting sloppier, too. After all, you’re clenching around him without an end and your pretty little moans don’t help him stretch that moment further.

So, Minho pulls out at the last moment, gives his cock a few more strokes before his seeds spill all over your ass, painting your skin so beautifully. Your name slips out of his mouth like a mantra, repeated over and over again and for a moment you consider covering his lips as well.

He admires the view one last time, before he searches around in his office and finds some paper tissues to clean the both of you with. After he’s tugged his softening cock into his boxers again and put on his pants, he helps you into your own clothing, touching you all carefully, as if he is afraid to hurt you.

“Do you need anything? Are you alright, doll?”

You nod and give him a satisfied smile.

“So…” he starts then, thoughts trailing off as if he’s afraid of  the same one thing again—rejection.

“I was thinking… I could take you out on a date, if you like.”

He’s so adorable. So versatile. It makes you want to get to know him better. More of Minho. The real Minho.

“I’d like that, Mr Lee.”

Caused by shyness washing all over him, Minho covers his face with his hands, but you pull them away.

“Don’t get shy now. I just think it’s hilarious you’ve got a sir kink.”

He gains some confidence then, getting a little closer to you.

“Don’t test me with your teasing, brat.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE: for my almost 1 year anniversary on here I wanted to rewrite my first ever story! oh lord, that was a cringe experience but at least I improved my skills lol the original one also had 6K instead of 10K words and I don't know what I should think about that. thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging it and sharing your thoughts with me—there are no limits, from keyboard smashes to long essays, every kind comment is dearly appreciated and the number one motivation for authors to keep going.

© j-0ne25 2023 | copying, translating or stealing my work is prohibited

---

my classroom crush

he's a lefty. has that right-brain intuition in the way he carries himself with confidence. has that right-brain intelligence, creativity in solving problems that my left-brain has to mull over before even getting close to the solution.

he keeps me on my toes, intellectually. whatever i lack, he makes up for and vice versa. and its so refreshing. we dash up to the white board and reach for the markers simultaneously. he uncaps the marker and goes for the question i'd been eyeing. i tsk and shake my head, smirking. how is it that of the ten questions, he'd been eyeing the same one i had.

his notebook is barely stiched to the spine, sheets wrinkled and blotched in coffee? my notebook is lined with labeled tables, pages numbered. he's smart but messy, flexible, spontaneous. i'm smart but rigid, tight-wound, paranoid. i wonder if we could rub off on each other, the best parts, at least. have him lend me some of his care-freeness, while i lend him a measure of structure and routine.

he bounces his leg beneath the desk and i drown the desire to brush my hand over it and calm it. to feel his warm skin on mine. i bounce my leg instead, transfering the pent-up energy screaming to be let out.

i study the jewelry on his arm, pretenting to look over the sheet we are working on together. watch as the fine tendons and muscles flex as he scribbles across the sheet in a pensive trance. silver bracelets, he changes every week. i wonder just how large his collection is, and why silver? not gold to compliment the blonde highlights of his skin.

when he boasts about a difficult class he's registered to take, he puffs his chest. i wonder if he's doing it to seem more appealing? release tension in his muscles from working out late at night during his midnight runs? or what? for whatever reason, he looks stunning, lopsided smile, baby blue eyes yapping excitedly and without measure. i secretly want to hear him talk about other things that excite him. want to know his favorite songs, films, foods, places.

keep talking, i want to say. but the professor comes around and draws our attention back to the whiteboard. i turn my chair away from facing him and try to reclaim my attention span. every other minute i wonder if he's thinking the same things I am. if he's secretly watching and making note of me as I have been doing on him.

it's eating me up inside. something sweet, saccharine, destined to rot but so overwhelmingly delicious in the moment before it does.

---

THIS ACADEMIC RIVAL SHIT IS NOT ROMANTIC I WANT TO PUSH HIM DOWN THE STAIRS.

---

Academic Rivals?

Part 1 - Scaramouche x Reader

Part 2 - Al-haitham x Reader

Part 3 - Dottore x Reader

Pairings: Al-haitham x Reader

C/W: fluff, enemies to lovers, modern au

You and Al-haitham never... Liked each other per se. You were always head butting one another, him being sarcastic and calm, while you, being hot-headed and chaotic.

You can never hold a proper conversation without belittling each other, and the conversation ends up being tossed away and forgotten.

So, what lead you to this predicament?

"Al-haitham and (Y/N), you will be working together-"

"SIR-"

"AND no objections!"

"Hmph, yes sir."

After going to their respective places, the other students were talking about their projects/research whilst the two were working individually despite needing to work together.

"You're doing that part, incorrectly, Al-haitham."

"If you must point out every little things I do, I might as well do the same, correct?"

And they fought again... Nevermind, let's skip to after class.

The students were piling out of class and going to their friend groups or go home, and (Y/N) went to theirs.

"CAN YOU BELIEVE IT-?! I'm FORCED to WORK with him! I can perfectly work on my own!"

"And then complain to us that you need a partner to work on the project because it's too much work load?"

"That's different! I just can't stand him! He took my place in the spot light so many times and he always shows it to me to tease me that I'm not at the top!"

"Alright, let's just go home, I'm sure he's not doing that on purpose..."

"BUT HE IS-!"

As (Y/N) continued to rant about how annoying their partner is and walking away, the 'partner' was listening in at the corner with someone else.

"You know, if you want them to fail so much, just distract them"

"How in the world will I do that-? Hmm... I have an idea."

"Just make sure you'll actually succeed in that plan of yours, who knows, they might outsmart you."

"Shut up, Kaveh."

"So grumpy~"

Al-haitham groaned at his roommate and walked away, not wanting to deal with him anymore.

The next day at school, Al-haitham and (Y/N) were peacefully working together, with no bickering, which surprised the others, but was relieved nonetheless because they didn't want to hear any more of their bickering

'What has gotten this man in a... Peaceful mood? He hasn't commented on my work yet...'

"That part of your essay is wrong."

"Are you saying I'm dumb?!"

"No, I'm just saying that you did that part wrong and our points may be deducted"

They looked at their work, and sure enough, it was actually wrong.

"Ah- Thanks."

He hummed as they continued working on their research, with helping one another and no fights happening.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"And that's all, any questions?"

"None. And brava (Y/N) and Al-haitham! You successfully covered the entirety of the research and answered all of my questions right! You both get a 100 points!"

"Thank you, sir."

The day went by like a blur, the partners sticking together and talking to each other about random things, until the end of the day came.

"(Y/N), before you go, I want to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"May I take you out on a date?"

"Wow, that's new, and the last thing I expected you to ask me. Are you sure this isn't some prank?"

"No, it's not"

"Eh...? Um, sure"

"Good, I'll meet you at 12:30 pm at the park"

"Very specific, but sure, make sure that it'll be worth my time, Al-haitham"

"I'm sure I won't"

With that, they parted ways.

A few months has passed, while they started dating, much to everyones surprise.

The new semester is coming and everybody was studying their asses off, as well as the unexpected couple.

The day of the results came, and (Y/N) was gripping Al-haithams hand tightly, nervous of what their rank is.

As their eyes skimmed over the rankings, their heart leaped out of their chest as they saw their rank

"RANK ONE! HOLY DAMN"

"Eh- but- how?!"

"What do you mean, "how"? Did you really think I didn't notice your plan?"

"But why didn't you say anything?"

"Hmm? Well, I can't help but notice your puppy eyes whenever you ask me something, it seems as though you fell for me."

"Ahem... Well, I did, in fact... fall for you. Let me re-do this. Will you, (Y/N), be my partner? I promise there are no strings attached as I have noticed my undeniable feelings."

"Very formal of you, I commend you. But, my answer to that... Is yes. Now, where's our first official date will be?"

Tags:

@ravensimp1212 @umiwu @sideblogiidahoe

---

THIS IS SO GOOD I LOVE IT 😭😭😭😭

under the table

description: you and sim jaeyun have been academic rivals for as long as you can remember, competing intensely to beat the other in every class you've ever shared. for years, you've hidden your feelings for him, burying them deep down where jake can't find them, and you're hellbent on ensuring he never discovers your secret.

word count: 22k

contents: academic rivals to academic rivals with benefits to lovers, lots of angst, slight crack at points, overuse of nicknames (angel, pretty, gorgeous, etc), jake is kinda mean in the beginning, heejayhoon are flirty frat boy menaces, reader works herself to exhaustion in one scene, jake is stupid with emotions, characters get drunk/drink a lot, lots of party scenes and wonyoung as your roommate/best friend bc she's the first idol i thought of

smut warnings below the cut

a/n: thank u to my lovely bff @seung-log for letting me bounce ideas off of you and for beta reading this fic and giving me encouragement the entire way! ilysm <3

now playing: under the table by banks

smut warnings: dom!jake, sub!reader, hard and soft dom jake, implications of sub!jake (my agenda y'all he had to be here somewhere), degradation (slut, whore, etc), praise, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), fingering, oral (m. and f. rec), handjob, titjob, multiple orgasms, squirting, hate fucking (kinda), cumming inside, cum swallowing, cum as lube (kinda), finger in ass (f. rec), orgasm delay, marking, biting, spit swallowing, dry humping, grinding, slight 'sir' kink, choking, slight size kink (big cock/tiny pussy), fucking with clothes on, overstimulation, crying, slight dacryphilia, clit pinching/slapping.

your eyes drag over your paper hurriedly, looking for the red ink splotched at the bottom of the page, skin tingling as blood rushes to your head.

95.

you flip your paper over, eyes darting to your side where a pair of big brown eyes are already staring back at you. jake raises an eyebrow at you, showing you the big fat 100 plastered on the top of his test sheet.

your nose scrunches as you attempt to not give any reaction to the fact that jake has beat you. once again.

“ha! knew it,” jake smirks, basking in his triumph.

“whatever, sim. you know physics is not my strongest subject.” you try to brush his statement off, but his gloating begins to get under your skin. you poke your tongue on the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to smack him as he continues to sit there, simply staring. “what is it?”

jake shrugs, “nothing much, y/l/n, just the usual. enjoying the fact that i beat you for yet another week in a row.”

he’s absolutely over exaggerating, knowing you just topped his score in english literature yesterday. “whatever,” you repeat, not wanting to him to sense your sulkiness. “stop staring.” you wave a hand in front of his face to get him to look away, to which he relents after a moment.

jake would stare in shock and awe if he ever found out how this rivalry actually drives your anger. losing to him is always frustrating, of course, but nothing is more soul crushing than the butterflies bouncing around in your stomach every time jake looks at you and the way you fail to will them away every single time.

“wasn’t staring,” he disagrees, turning to face back towards the whiteboard, his leg beginning to bounce from the excess excitement.

“sure you weren’t,” you respond dryly, utterly too exhausted to deal with his bickering today. not with that way that stupid button up with rolled sleeves fits snugly on his biceps, round silver rimmed glasses sitting lazily on his nose, strands of hair falling delicately across his face. to top it all off, he’s wearing a ring on his pointer finger, tapping it lightly against the edge of the desk. the sound is bothersome, but not as bothersome as how utterly attracted you are to the mere image of the metal around his long finger. long fingers that are attached to large hands that lead to buff, veiny arms and broad shoulders, the whole sight nearly making you drool.

he must know how absolutely attractive he is right now. he must.

“hey jake, you going to the party at heeseung’s frat tonight?” jungwon calls from the seat behind him.

jake turns, nodding slightly, “jay and hoon are forcing me to go, i told them i already had plans but they wouldn’t listen,” you scoff, digging through your backpack for your laptop, knowing his plans were simply to study the entire weekend, plans that completely mirrored your own. he glances at you with an eyebrow raised in confusion before turning back to jungwon. “why?”

“the sorority girls are all coming,” jungwon cracks a smile, the smugness in his voice dripping with every word that tumbles out. he lowers his voice, leaning in as you still, trying to listen to jungwon’s hushed tone. “karina’s gonna be there, bro.”

you freeze, eyes glancing up as you pray you’ve heard wrong. yu karina of phi mu royalty? the most gorgeous girl on campus who also, unfortunately for your cynical brain who wants so desperately to hate the girl, happens to be the kindest person on earth? of course jake would be interested in her, just like half the student body is.

jake nods slightly, muttering a “thanks, jungwon,” before turning back towards the front. you busy yourself with logging into your laptop, willing your brain to think about anything other than jake and karina together.

god, this is going to be a long day.

luckily enough, friday is the day where you only see jake once during your courses. you head home to your on campus apartment after the day ends, tired of your racing thoughts and hoping to recover in the confines of your warm blanket, cozied up with a good book and a cup of tea before doing some nightly revision.

you are not allowed such a reprieve from the day.

“y/nieeee!” wonyoung greets you at the door, a bright smile gracing her face. “we’re going out tonight!”

you drop your bag on the sofa before plopping down next to it, sinking deep into the cushions. “no, wony, we’re not going to heeseung’s party.”

her smile drops, pretty lips curling into a small frown, “why? and how did you even know there’s a party at heeseung’s tonight?”

“doesn’t matter. we’re absolutely not going.”

she huffs, stomping her foot lightly. “come onnnn y/n! don’t you ever get tired of working yourself to the bone week after week? i think you need a break, even if just for the night.”

you sigh, rubbing at your face with your hands, trying to fend off the impending headache that started on your walk from your classroom. you relent to her, a small sigh escaping your lips before you mutter, “jake’s going to be there.”

“and? don’t you want him to see your sexy ass in something skimpy?”

your cheeks burn at the insinuation of sim jake having his eyes on you in any context other than a negative one. “no, plus karina is going to be there. heard jungwon mentioning her specifically to him in physics today. so i’d rather not go and see something that’ll hurt my spirit more.” you pause for a moment, “he already beat my score on our physics quiz this morning, and i haven’t stopped thinking about him and her together all day. so can we please stay home?”

wonyoung sighs deeply, sitting down next to you. “who cares if they’re going to be there? you’re y/l/n y/n, you deserve to have a life outside of academics and obsessing over jake. and if he does get with her? then fuck him!”

you can feel your resolve breaking, knowing you can never truly say no to wonyoung with her pleading eyes and tiny pout.

“oh my god, fine.” you relent, sighing deeply when she jumps off of the couch with a little squeal. “oh i’m so excited! let’s go to your room, i know exactly what you’re going to wear.”

and that’s how you ended up standing outside heeseung’s frat house, your comfy tennis shoes contrasting the skin tight strappy black dress with a plunging neckline that wonyoung forced you to wear. “i’m not breaking my fucking ankle just so you can have more fun playing dress up, wony. it’s the dress and these shoes or i’m taking my ass there in sweatpants and no bra.”

“come on, let’s get a drink,” wonyoung grabs your hand and pushes her way through the crowd of bodies, “we’re probably gonna need it.”

“welcome ladies! wonyoung, nice to see you again.” you are both greeted by park jay mixing drinks when you step into the precipice of the kitchen. he does a double take when his eyes register you in front of him. “and y/n, wow! you look drop dead gorgeous. i’ve never seen you at one of these parties before.”

your cheeks burn lightly as you opt to ignore his comment, knowing jay’s reputation with the student body for being a man who… definitely gets around. wonyoung lets go of your hand, beginning to browse the drink options laid out on the kitchen island in front of her. “yeah, wonyoung made me.” you respond, coming to stand on the opposite side of jay as you eye the shaker in his hands. “you playing bartender?” he nods slightly. “what’s the strongest thing you can make me?”

jay chuckles in response as he pours what he was mixing in the tumbler. “here, try this,” he hands you the cup. you take a reluctant sip, the liquid going down with a strong burn. you shake your head lightly in response to the strength before downing the entire cup in a few gulps, needing the liquid confidence desperately.

“a woman after my own heart,” he stares for a moment before handing you another drink, this one pre-prepared. “try this one. don’t down it all at once though, i won’t be able to satisfy you if you keep that up.”

you nod, taking a small sip before a warm feeling begins to settle in your belly. “this one is tastier.”

“figured you’d like it, a sweet drink for a sweet girl.”

wonyoung cocks an eyebrow at him before shaking her head lightly at the way his gaze is completely on you, the ogling he’s giving your curves going right over your head but catching her attention instead. “me next, bartender.” he nods, turning back to face the counter. “your regular?” she nods in response, walking around him to slide up against you.

“you have a regular?” you giggle at her. wonyoung nods lightly, the small smile never leaving her lips, “jay’s been playing bartender for me since we were still in high school.”

jay makes wonyoung her drink and hands it over and the two of you exit the kitchen, opting to walk outside for some fresh air and maybe a free spot on the lawn to sit down at. there are small clumps of people scattered around the impeccably green lawn. people sip from cups and bottles, a few from cans. there are fairy lights strewn across the underside of the covered porch, and you wonder which frat member’s girlfriend convinced them to put them there. the moon illuminates the darker parts of the lawn, some of them coated in artificial light from various tiki torches strewn about aimlessly, stuck into the group roughly.

“wonyoung!” lee heeseung’s booming voice carries across the lawn from where heeseung and sunghoon are playing beer pong. “come join!”

you approach the table, “y/n, is that you?” you nod, smiling. “hi, heeseung.”

“is this your first frat party?” you nod again and he cracks a smile in response. “how are you enjoying it?”

“we just got here, so i haven’t seen much.” heeseung nods, scooting over on his side of the ping pong table.

“be my partner, wonyoung go stand by hoon.” you find nothing inside of you that wants to argue, knowing that you and heeseung get along, as much as two people who don’t know each other all that well can get along.

you glance up at heeseung as you stand next to him, “i’ve never played, heeseung.” his smile grows wider at your admission. “well, it’s our turn, so let me show you.”

heeseung moves you to stand in front of him, pressing you between the edge of the table and his wide t-shirt covered chest. “so grab the ball,” he places it in your hand before covering it with his own, much larger one. “aim, and toss!” heeseung guides you to toss the ball, it lands in one of the cups with a satisfying plop and you smile, glancing up at him where he’s smiling back down at you.

across the lawn, unbeknownst to you, an irritated sim jaeyun is ignoring his conversation with karina, watching the way heeseung is crowding your space and holding your hand. he’s not mad, no, why the hell would he be mad? he hates you. he’s got the yu karina in front of him giving him bedroom eyes, yet all he can focus on is the way heeseung presses himself against your back. jake feels the strange anger brewing inside his gut, completely checked out of his conversation with karina.

karina is here, ripe for the taking, absolutely willing and eager to flirt with jake, but all he can manage to do is stare at you, willing you with his mind to glance over at him, to see him standing here with her. he can’t believe you’re standing so close to his best friend, basically inviting him to fuck you in front of everyone here with your innocent stare.

wonyoung takes the cup and downs it, “next time let her throw for herself, hee.” sunghoon accuses, “no cheating in beer pong, man.”

“y/n’s never played!” heeseung defends, never moving from where he’s got you trapped, his body feeling so close and his towering size intimidating you a bit. “had to teach her, it’s the least i can do.”

before he can register how his body is reacting, jake’s leaving karina without so much as a second glance as his legs carry him over to the table. “move over hoon,” jake commands from the other side of the table. heeseung meets jake’s eye, having a silent conversation that not even sunghoon is privy to. heeseung gives sunghoon a look and sunghoon relents, allowing jake to take his place before wandering off to see jay in the kitchen and maybe find out if riki is passed out somewhere. wonyoung catches your gaze, her eyes as confused as yours are at the sudden intrusion. “gonna school you, y/n, just like i did in physics this morning.”

you roll your eyes while heeseung feels your body tense in his hold. “it’s okay, we got this. jake sucks at beer pong.” he says lowly, smiling to reassure you. you nod your head in response.

jake does, in fact, suck at beer pong, a fact you become well aware of within his first few throws. usually jake is decent at beer pong! but heeseung has watched jake down multiple drinks this evening, and when jake gets drunk, his beer pong skills significantly drop off. jake swears under his breath with every miss, hatred brewing behind his gaze every time he sees the way heeseung keeps you held in place, the way the pair of you celebrate every successful toss with a small high five, heeseung’s hand dwarfing yours in size.

“you lose, jakey boy,” heeseung announces as you sink the last ball with a bit of guidance from him. jake downs the last cup before slamming it back down on the table, the flimsy plastic being crushed beneath his hand a bit. heeseung gives you a squeeze of the shoulders and one last high five, “don’t be a sore loser, man.” heeseung moves, finally letting you escape as you walk to meet wonyoung at the other end of the table. heeseung grabs jake by the scruff of his neck, guiding him to another part of the backyard.

“god, that was so weird.” wonyoung shakes her head, “why was jake so mad? and heeseung is being weird too…”

the words swim in your own brain. was jake mad that you were there at all? you’ve never been to one of heeseung’s parties before, so that could be it, he could feel like you’re intruding on his space. you’d feel the same way if he ever raided one of you and wonyoung’s girls’ nights; though wonyoung would argue that that is a completely different situation if she ever heard your battling thoughts. was it because heeseung was so close to you? did he think you were cheating at beer pong like sunghoon did? that’s just too many questions for your already intoxicated brain to handle. your heart swelled at the fleeting thought that maybe he was angry that heeseung was close to you for an entirely different reason, completely unrelated to the game or his urge to beat you in every aspect of your shared existence.

“i think it’s time for us to go home,” you interject her ramblings, the entire situation beginning to overwhelm you, “i’m feeling tired.”

wonyoung eyes you with a raised eyebrow and a slightly squeaky whine as the two of you walk inside, “we just got here! come dance with me at least for a little bit.”

across the lawn, heeseung is scolding jake. “why are you being a fucking asshole to y/n, bro? she’s just trying to have a good time.”

“me? being an asshole? that’s rich coming from you, you we’re basically fucking her against the table, heeseung!”

heeseung rolls his eyes, knowing he was being very tame in comparison to some of the compromising situations jake has seen him in before. and it’s not like you or heeseung felt that way about each other. “i knew you’d be mad at that. jake, open your fucking eyes. people who actually hate each other don’t feel that way you do about her.”

jake’s drunk mind refuses to relent to heeseung’s words, always needing to be right and knowing heeseung is dead wrong, “shut the fuck up, you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“i do, actually, and i know better than you do.” heeseung shakes his head, sighing, “you’re too stubborn for your own good, sim.”

“fuck off man,” jake shakes himself out of heeseung’s grasp, heading inside for god only knows what reason. just to get away from heeseung and from his confusing thoughts of you, he supposes, in his far too drunk mind.

wonyoung tugs you into the living room that’s been taken over as a dance floor, but you tear away from her before she can drag you into the sea of people, trying to avoid dancing entirely. “i’m going to find the bathroom,” wonyoung’s attention is grabbed by a mutual friend of yours and she stays to chat with them, watching you stumble into a nearby hallway out of the corner of her eye, following your figure until you disappear around a corner, worry bubbling in her gut.

someone stumbles into you, nearly knocking you onto your ass. “hey, watch where you’re g-”

your sentence is cut off by someone pressing you against the wall in the dark corner of the hall, your eyes rising to meet a pair of pretty brown ones, jake’s pupils wide from how buzzed he is right now. you can feel yourself tensing in his hold, both scared and turned on from the mere proximity of his body. the heat of his body overwhelms you as he places one hand on your waist, the other against the wall at the side of your head, trapping you in place beneath his towering frame. “get off of me, sim,” you push against his chest, his body not moving an inch. fuck him and his broad shoulders and his thick, toned arms.

“are you trying to piss me off or something?” jake seethes, and you can see the anger in his eyes and the way he grips your hip tightly, threatening to leave a bruise. “trying to fuck all my friends? just opening your legs for every one of them like a whore?”

“fuck off, jake!” you argue, anger bubbling as you watch his eyes scan across your face, trying to ignore the bubbling arousal building in your gut, overwhelmed by his voice, eyes, presence, all of him being so terrifyingly close to you. “if i wanted to fuck all your friends, i already would’ve!”

jake’s hand next to your head is suddenly gripping your chin, forcing your head to look up further and stare up at his face. he sucks at the inside of his cheek, trying to reel his anger back in. “listen here, princess. none of my friends would ever fuck you, so stop trying before you embarrass yourself. you’re pathetic,” he moves his hand from your chin to wrap around your throat lazily. you can’t help the way your panties stick to you, wetness growing at the sight of him degrading you, his big hand wrapped around your delicate neck. you can feel your brain slipping already. “you’re worthless, do you understand me?”

you nod dumbly, swallowing a bit of spit to keep yourself from drooling.

“good girl,” is all his drunk brain can tell you, voice gravelly and lower than you’ve ever heard. his vocal tone makes the feeling in the pit of your stomach reignite. “remember your place, doll.” you nod mindlessly again before he lets go of your throat, his hand at your waist shoving you away from him. “get out of here before i have to teach you a lesson.”

monday rolls around unceremoniously, and knowing you’ll have to see jake first thing this morning is making you consider skipping class entirely.

you shake your head, knowing that nobody, especially not a man, is worth jeopardizing your grades over. no matter how annoyingly attractive he is.

you plop down in your seat, ready for the lecture. jake saunters in, his usual smile plastered on his face before it drops at the mere sight of you. your heart sinks, knowing that even your academic rivalry has never produced that sort of reaction from him.

“so, you and heeseung, huh?”

jake sits down next to you, eyeing you inquisitively. “what? absolutely not!” you hiss, “why the hell would you think that, sim?”

“beer pong,” he mentions, in a tone that makes you feel like you’re stupid. “i don’t like heeseung and i know he doesn’t like me. be serious now, jake.” you scold him, desperately hoping he’ll drop this.

“didn’t seem like it to me,” is all he says before tugging his laptop out of his bag and watching as the professor walks in the classroom.

“whatever, sim,” you brush him off, and the rest of your sentence gets caught on your tongue. “not like i care what you think,” you wish you could say, despite knowing just how much of a lie it is.

“good morning everyone, i finally have your test from last week fully graded,” your history teacher greets everyone and begins winding up and down the aisles, handing back papers with various numbers scribbled on top of each.

she places your paper gently on your desk, a huge smile greeting your face once you see the large 100 sitting on top in deep red ink.

“don’t start gloating now, princess. i got the same. you're not special,” jake’s words kill your remaining semblance of a good mood, feeling like he’s being meaner than he usually is.

“jake it’s 8 am, stop being such an asshole so early in the morning.” you fight, shoving the paper in your bag unceremoniously, missing the small frown that flits across his features. his thoughts flick back to heeseung scolding him at the party, making the frown grow on his face. you nose scrunches at his actions not turning you on like they normally did, instead just making you angry at him.

he shouldn’t feel bad, he really shouldn’t, and he's tricked his brain into thinking he truly doesn't care. your relationship has always been like this. something about seeing you this weekend made jake extra angry, and you’re the one he needs to take it out on. and if he kills your mood to match his already bad one? then all the better for his ego, annoying you being one of his favorite past times.

he continues his nasty quips throughout the rest of class, ones you try your hardest to ignore but somehow they slip under your armor and make hits at your fragile heart every single time.

after spending your down time studying in the library, you reach your next course and sit next to jake in math, leg bouncing roughly at the anxiety brewing at the thought of losing to jake again.

“oh thank god,” you sigh in relief, a 99 with a large circle sitting at the top of your surprise quiz from last week. jake feels his face twitch as he glances over to find your test sporting a higher score. he never loses to you in math, and he can feel his anger boiling.

“lucky break, y/n,” he bites, not missing the way your eyes turn downcast silently instead of fighting him with a quick, competitive response. jake doesn’t know why the sight of you ignoring him and not even arguing back makes his heart twinge.

class after class for the rest of the week, you keep topping jake’s score, but you can’t bring it in yourself to care. you feel like his combative words are filled with real venom now, versus the usual merely competitive undertones that they carry. sure, you enjoy when he’s mean sometimes, but it feels like he’s somehow crossed an imaginary line between sexy and hateful. and your brain can only take so much negative rhetoric before you’re closing in on yourself, blurring the edges of your consciousness to prevent any more hurt from being cast upon your body and mind. you barely stumble your way through the week, struggling to even drag yourself to class every day, knowing you’ll be met with his usually soft brown eyes staring daggers into your side profile.

you’re so worn down from the emotional toll this week has taken on you that you don’t even care that wonyoung shoves you into another tiny dress and drags you to another party hosted by heeseung. you choose to keep your inner turmoil to yourself, and wonyoung relents, allowing you to have your secrets for now despite being able to sense that something is absolutely wrong.

“jay, give y/n what you gave her last weekend, she needs it.”

“welcome back, pretty girl,” jay greets you, “bad week?” you nod numbly, meeting his gaze with obviously tired eyes. “let jay help you.” he gives you a soft smile, beginning to whip up exactly what he gave you last weekend.

“thank you, jay,” jay notices the smile doesn’t reach your eyes, but he doesn’t take it personally. “anytime, pretty.”

wonyoung grabs the nearest bottle of whatever beer they’ve stocked up on for this so called rager and follows you as you wander aimlessly. she grips your elbow, leading you to an open seat on the sofa in the living room. the party is less packed than last weekend, with only a few people mingling around the house, the living room no longer being taken over by an impromptu dance floor.

“hi y/n, hey wonyoung,” jungwon greets the pair of you, dropping down into the cushion next to wonyoung. “what’s up? enjoying the party?”

you nod simply, nursing your cup gently as your eyes can’t focus on any one thing in the room, vision slightly fuzzy and never once regaining clarity as you let all thoughts leave your head.

“you with us, y/n?” wonyoung waves a hand in front of your face. unbeknownst to you, ten minutes had already passed and both wony and jungwon had watched you as you barely even moved, aside from the cup occasionally being pressed to your lips. “yeah, sorry.” you mumble out. wonyoung gives your shoulder a small squeeze before rising to her feet. “we’ll be right back, jungwon and i need a refill, okay?” you nod as her figure disappears into the house.

a large shadow casts above you, drawing your attention up to meet big brown eyes. “why are you here? here to gloat some more?”

a small sigh leaves your lips as you tear your gaze from him before downing your drink at once, eyes fluttering shut. you place the cup on the coffee table in front of you before looking back up at him, “i don’t have the energy to fight with you right now, jake. please just leave me alone.”

jake sits down next to you, hand resting on your knee as he whispers lowly for only you to hear, “so you’re trying to act like you didn’t just kick my ass all week? you’re not gonna say anything about that?”

you nod a little, unable to meet his gaze, “jake, i’m so tired, please. i don’t want to fight right now.”

seeing the vision of you, a usually fiery, independent, self assured woman, surrendering to his words so easily causes a twitch in jake’s pants, his jeans beginning to feel a little too snug all of a sudden. “is that so?” he teases, his anger from the week still present in the undertones of his speech. “so you don’t even have the energy to be a good rival and taunt me back?”

you shake your head, “jake, please,” you whine, and its music to his ears. he squeezes your knee lightly, invading your space some more. “please what, angel?”

your cheeks burn at the sudden nickname, mouth going dry at the three little words he’s just whispered to you. you stare at him with doe eyes and a shut mouth. “what is it, you can tell me.” he tries to coax the admission out of you.

“just so tired…” you relent, limbs feeling heavy.

jake stands and pulls you to your feet, ignoring how heavy his cock feels behind his denim as he leads you upstairs, “come on, let’s go find somewhere you can lie down.” the sudden kindness he’s showing you would strike you as strange if you were in your right mind, but the fogginess taking over your brain hides how absolutely weird this would be on a normal day between you and jake.

jake tugs the door of heeseung’s room open, guiding you inside before shutting the door and locking it. “lie down.” his voice is gentle, coaxing you into submission and a sense of calm, feeling safer knowing you’re away from the crowd and are able to breathe a little better without a thin sheen of smoke filling your lungs and obscuring your vision.

you obey, crawling under the covers that he’s pulled back for you before he tucks you under the plush material. “you shouldn’t be here while you’re feeling like this,” jake scolds you. your eyes shut gently, already falling asleep with a heavy heart and heavier limbs. jake watches you with a protective gaze as you drift off into dreamland, a sigh leaving his lips knowing you might finally have time to just exist, versus your usual act of constantly pushing yourself to the limit and further.

“you can’t just let people crash in my room, jake!”

“it’s y/n, hee.” jake glances up at the taller man for a moment, “she… something was wrong, but i didn’t want to send her home by herself. wonyoung certainly wasn’t going to go with her.” he scoffs at your roommate’s inability to grasp how strange you were acting. heeseung’s eyebrows shoot up at this admission, nodding slightly. “is she okay now?” he questions.

“she’s still sleeping,” heeseung had caught jake sneaking out of his room trying to get you a glass of water for when you wake up, planning to run up and continue watching you as you slept. not in a creepy way, just in a i don’t want anybody to come in this room trying to fuck on heeseung’s bed while y/n is sleeping there kind of way, as well as a i need to make sure no one tries to take advantage of her kind of way. why he wanted to do all of this, why he was treating you this way at all was still a mystery to him. “didn’t want anyone coming in and waking her up or messing with her while she’s sleeping.”

heeseung scoffs a bit at his answer, “you still don’t get it, do you?”

jake watches him with a blank stare, “get what?” he shakes his head in response, muttering a quiet “nothing,” before peeking inside his room to check on you.

“she’s fine, heeseung.” jake argues, quietly yanking the door shut. “let her sleep.”

heeseung shakes his head, “just let her uber home with wonyoung,” he suggests, testing the waters further to prove his theory is rocksolid.

jake gives him a glare that could kill, “did you not fucking listen to a word i just said?”

bingo.

“i’m kidding, chill.”

jake lets the comment go as well as he can, “if you’re done saying stupid shit, can you go grab me some water for when she wakes up?” heeseung scoffs at his words, but returns shortly with a bottle of water, to which jake gives him a small thank you in return.

“just… try not to be an asshole when she wakes up, okay?”

you don’t know how you got home that night. wonyoung told you it was jungwon ordering the three of you an uber, opting to leave with you since he lives in your building with sunoo and riki as his roommates. the rest of the weekend passes unceremoniously, your color slowly coming back after an absolutely off week. as you slouch down into the chair next to his on monday morning, you can only hope jake doesn’t fuck up your good mood as fast as he did last week.

“had a fun weekend?” you can’t decipher the tone of his voice.

“it was fine, i guess.” you shrug in response. “i don’t remember most of it.” you admit, not even caring how absolutely embarrassing that sounds, especially coming from someone of your academic caliber and positive reputation.

jake’s face seems to drop at your admission, quickly shaking off the expression, “well, are you ready for another week of me kicking your ass?”

“we’ll see about that, sim.” you smirk lightly, feeling your spark in this rivalry returning a bit, along with your deeply imbedded feelings for the man beside you. jake seems to have let go of the intense hatred he was holding the previous week, a friendly feeling returning to your long standing rivalry. “don’t think i’m gonna go easy on you, now.”

jake smiles secretly, happy to see the pep back in your step, so to speak. he hated seeing you the way you were at the party, your eyes looking lifeless and staring into the void aimlessly before he laid you down for a well deserved nap.

“hmm, what’d you get?” you peer down at the paper your professor has just laid in front of you. “97. you?”

“98.”

jake groans loudly, “god, you can’t just let me win, can you?” a smile graces your lips, “nope, you’ll have to fight me for it, sim.”

“alright, you two,” jay teases the two of you and you turn to face him. “y/n, you’ll never guess what today is.” he smiles brightly.

“i’m not sure, what is it, jay?”

“it’s my birthday, and i’m throwing a party at the frat tonight.” you smile at his admission, “will i see you there?”

jake shakes his head, teasing, “no, she’s probably gotta stud-”

“sure,” you interrupt jake, shooting him a glare before looking back at jay, “i’ll be there, jay.” you offer him a small smile, one which he mirrors while jake looks between the two of you with a scowl.

oh, you’re gonna get it.

you arrive at jay’s party, opting for a more casual pleated skirt and t-shirt since jay told you it was casual wear and he wanted a chill vibe, just some close friends. you’re assuming he invited you because of wonyoung, who had to opt out of tonight’s festivities since the poor girl caught a nasty case of the flu over the weekend. you heated up some canned soup for her and made tea before leaving for the night, telling her to text you immediately if she starts to feel worse.

“hi, gorgeous,” heeseung smiles at you, greeting you warmly and placing a drink in your hands.

“hi, heeseung,” you return his smile, watching him over the rim of your solo cup as you take a sip. “damn, this is nasty. what the hell is this?”

he shrugs lightly, “beats me. jay’s mingling instead of making drinks, so sunghoon’s doing the best that he can, i guess.” you nod before bravely taking another sip of the gross concoction.

“where’s the birthday boy?”

“ask and he shall appear,” jay smiles, coming to stand next to heeseung, “hi, angel, glad you could make it.” you smile at the two men towering over you. “thanks for inviting me, and wony sends her apologies. she got sick over the weekend.”

“that’s alright, hope she feels better.” heeseung says before the two of them begin whisking you off into another part of the house. heeseung separates from you and jay to greet a few people, jay’s hand on your waist to guide you without you getting lost. “i heard hoon’s making drinks? this is nasty, jay, have you taught him nothing?” you tease, glancing behind you at a loud noise sounds behind you. after finding nothing, you begin to turn back to jay before your eyes find jake standing with karina. the sight makes your blood boil, but you nearly shiver after finding him already staring over at you and jay out of the side of his eye. you shake off his dark stare, returning to your conversation with jay, not noticing the way his hand hasn’t left your waist despite the two of you no longer moving through the house.

“i’ll be right back,” jake tells karina, no longer focused on their conversation. karina scoffs lightly, knowing this is the second time in two weeks that jake has left her high and dry while she’s been trying to talk to him.

“jay,” jake greets his best friend, earning him a look of confusion from the birthday boy, “y/n, can i talk to you?” you glance at jay with a confused look, the man in front of you mirroring the same expression back at you.

“i– sure, jake.” you relent, setting down your already empty cup on a random surface before he’s tugging your arm, not caring about the searing grip he has on your wrist.

“didn’t i warn you to not fuck my friends?” jake’s hushed voice meets your ears, a frown pulling onto your lips at the question. you don’t remember talking about being attracted to any of his friends at all, let alone with jake himself.

“what are you talking about, sim?” you question, growing irritated at the implication that he probably thinks you’re easy.

“god, you’re so stupid sometimes,” he growls, pressing you against a bedroom door in the empty hallway. “you don’t even see them all eye fucking you? don’t be naive, y/n.”

you shake your head, convinced he’s fucking with you. “jake, your friends aren’t eye fucking me it’s called being friends with the opposite sex, you should try it instead of being an asshole all the time!”

jake yanks the handle near your hip, tugging the door open and shoving both of you inside before locking it behind him. “you drive me up the fucking wall, you know that?”

“the feeling is mutual, sim,” you deadpan. “are you done yelling at me? i’m ready to leave this fucking room and get far away from you. i’m trying to enjoy myself tonight, jake, i don’t need you fucking with my mood again.”

the dam in his mind breaks, and suddenly jake feels all his resolve slip away. he pushes you up against the closed door and squishes you against it. “god, you’re so fucking annoying, you know that? always know how to push my fucking buttons.”

the proximity has you holding your breath, waiting for his next searing words to tumble out of those plush lips.

“stop staring at my lips,” he demands, taking both of your wrists in one grip of his hand and holding them above your head. “you gonna keep making me mad?”

“stop fucking with me, jake, let me leave.” you know your words hold no weight in either of your minds, your body betraying you as your arousal is evident in the way your legs squeeze together.

jake shakes his head, “you need to shut up and take what i give you, since you’re so ready to be a slut for all my friends.” he grips your chin and squishes your cheeks with his other hand. “you gonna behave for me? or are you gonna be a brat?”

you finally relent, letting go of your argumentative front that you’ve put up around him for years as his grip on your cheeks loosens. you relish in the feeling of allowing him to take control, of jake offering you a moment to just exist without any expectations or responsibilities, to let him take care of you completely, “‘m gonna be good for you, jake.” you watch him with big eyes, his stare unrelenting as he watches you for any sort of discomfort.

“you sure you can take it, angel? i’m not gonna be nice.” you nod briefly, trying to use your hand before he grips tighter, “what is it, pretty? you can still back out now.” he tells you, giving you full control of the situation for a moment.

he watches a look flash across your face before you look downwards, embarrassed at the thought of what you’re about to ask. jake tugs your face to look back at up at him roughly, “want you to choke me,” you mumble. he grins wildly at your admission, hand on your chin snaking down to rest at the base of your neck. “like that, baby?” you nod slightly, pressing your legs further together under his intense stare. “tell jake what else you need.”

you take advantage of his momentary kindness to lean forward and capture his plump lips in a kiss, dirty and messy and utterly desperate. desperate for his touch, however you can get it. jake returns the favor, slotting his lips against yours, feeling every crevice of your gorgeous lips under his own. he fights back a moan, knowing he needs to maintain dominance over the situation. he squeezes tighter on your neck and you let out a small moan, allowing him to press his tongue into your mouth. you nearly gasp at the intrusion, relishing in the feeling of him nearly eating you from the inside out.

jake pulls away to stare back at your face, your expression already portraying how utterly fucked out you are just from a few touches. “can’t just take what you’re given, can you? greedy girl.” his tone is laced with warning.

“i can take it,” you argue lightly and he chuckles before moving you from the door to the bed, making you lie down on the mattress in front of him. “promise.”

“i believe you.” jake admits, sinking down to his knees and flipping your skirt up before pressing his nose against your clothed core. “bet you taste delicious, angel,” he stays there for a moment, licking against the fabric of your panties before pulling away. jake stands back up and unbuckles his belt, “another time, baby. need to fuck the attitude right out of you. always getting on my nerves.”

you watch as jake drops his pants and boxes just below his knees, revealing a thick, veiny cock with a blushing red tip. your cheeks go redder at the sight of him, already afraid of the stretch, “you’re so big.” the words tumble out of you without realization, your cheeks burning at the sudden admission.

“i told you i’m the best, baby,” he taunts you, “don’t worry, i’ll make you take it all like the cock slut we both know you are.” jake rips your panties, pulling a gasp from your chest as he holds the tip against your wet folds, the sight hidden from you by your skirt, “god, this turns you on, doesn’t it? when i call you a pretty little whore?” he feels your walls tighten slightly around his tip at his words and smirk casts over jake’s lips. “so all this time, my little angel has been getting wet every time we talk? dirty girl.” you shake your head, trying to hide your embarrassed face as your cheeks heat up. “don’t lie baby, i can feel you clenching around me.”

all the air is knocked out of your lungs when jake buries his huge length all the way inside, your hands going up to grab his biceps for something to hang onto as he begins ravaging you with a brutal pace, “see what you do to me? you make me so fucking angry, i can’t help but take it all out on you.” he feels your walls flutter around him as his thick cock drags against you, feeling every ridge of your pussy as his tip bruises your cervix with repeated precision. “god, you’re taking me so well, tiny little pussy was made to be destroyed by my big cock, wasn’t it?”

you nod dumbly, feeling cock drunk already, feeling yourself slip further away from reality with every drag of his veiny dick passing through you. jake fucks you into the mattress like he’s trying to split your entire body in half. you can’t get enough as jake moves your arms for a moment to tear your shirt off your body hastily, both hands reaching around and unclasping your bra before discarding both items somewhere in this random bedroom. he watches your tits bounce with each deep thrust, “god look at your tits baby, fuck– i could just eat you alive right now.”

“please,” you whine, not knowing what you’re whining for. “please what, my pretty little slut?” you don’t answer him, moaning loudly as he takes both your tits in his grasp, a hand holding each in a grip that’ll surely leave a mark.

“that’s what i thought,” he quips as he continues to plow into you, his head starting to spin from the feeling of your walls sucking him in with every thrust, never fully accommodating his size, “fuck, just take it all like a good cock slut, you were made to take me.”

his squeezing of one of your tits halts, moving down to pinch your swollen clit harshly, smiling wickedly at the groan of pain and pleasure that escapes your mouth. “too much?” you nod roughly, pleading eyes meeting his dark gaze, “too fucking bad.”

jake begins alternating between pinching and slapping your clit, relishing at the slight squeeze each action grants him, feeling himself tumbling to the edge already. “don’t you dare fucking cum,” he warns as he grabs your hips, shoving you up and down on his length like a fuckdoll, and you take it, sitting pretty with gasps leaving your parted lips as he chases his own pleasure. “fuuuuuck,” jake stills, cumming deep inside you, holding your hips flush to his body until he’s milked his own cock dry. you can feel your body on the edge of an orgasm as you wait for jake to finish you off now that he’s cum inside you.

he pulls out, watching his cum drip out of your gaping hole, “god, you still make me so fucking mad,” jake shoves his length back inside roughly, stuffing his cum back into you, “can’t wait to watch you come undone beneath me.” he moans, rubbing rough circles against your clit. you throw your head back, moaning his name loudly.

“that’s it, pretty baby, let everyone know who’s making you feel this good,” jake leans in and bites the skin on your neck, sucking and licking at the spot to soothe it after. he places a sloppy, open mouthed kiss there before leaning up and prying your lips apart, mouth opening obediently. your eyes open in shock, watching him hover above you before he spits in your mouth, then sliding his hand down to rest at the base of your neck, squeezing lightly. “swallow it.” you follow his instructions promptly, a moan escaping your lips after feeling it slide down your throat paired with the pressure he’s applying.

“cum all over my cock, angel,” jake growls in your ear, the grit in his voice causing your dam to break, the rubber band in your stomach snapping before your eyes roll back, colors passing through your vision and limbs feeling numb and tingly as jake fucks you through your orgasm.

“jake, stop–” you attempt to push him off, your actions doing nothing to halt his movements, feeling overstimulated as your orgasm finishes washing over your body. “jake–”

jake leans in, capturing your lips in a messy, sloppy kiss to distract you as he slowly slips out of you, taking his fingers and shoving the cum mixture back into your leaking hole. he pulls away, glancing down at the sight of both of your fluids leaking out of you, groaning at the sight, “fuck, you’re perfect,” his head feels dizzy as he catches your lips again, biting softly against your bottom lip before pulling away again. “let me clean you up,” jake presses a final kiss against your lips, resisting the urge to slip his tongue down your throat as far as it can reach.

he returns shortly with a wet cloth from the en suite bathroom, manhandling you to sit further up against the pillows before wiping you down, getting the cum out of your gaping hole. he returns to the bathroom, wiping himself off before tugging his jeans back onto his hips and tossing the washcloth in the trash. whatever frat brother this room belongs to certainly won’t be missing that…

you stare up at the ceiling, panting and wiping the sweat from your forehead. “fuck.”

“fuck what? fuck you? i just did,” he argues, grabbing your torn panties from wherever they landed in the room and pocketing them discreetly.

“shut up, sim,” you cover your eyes with your arm, refusing to look at him.

“hey, look at me,” jake pries your arm off and your eyes open slowly, the sight of him with his post sex glow knocking the wind out of you. “you okay?” his question is sincere, his gaze on you doubly so. you nod lightly, a small smile taking over your features, “good.”

“can’t believe you ripped my panties…” you grumble, sitting up slightly to look for your shirt and bra. jake’s hands grip your tits absentmindedly, “i’m not a fucking stressball, jake!” jake just laughs, pinching one of your nipples in retaliation, watching the nearly silent moan that leaves your perfect pink lips. “fuck, don’t do that again unless you want another round.”

he perks up at the words, “you really mean that?”

“i–”

a loud pounding on the door startles both of you, “open the fuck up!”

you scramble to grab your bra and shirt, shoving them back on as jake wills his slowly rising dick to lower once more. he glances at you and you nod at him. jake unlocks the door and swings it open, meeting the eyes of a very tall, very angry man.

“get the fuck out, both of you,” he booms and the two of you scurry out quickly, a small giggle escaping your lips at the sight of his bright red, angry face.

“he was gonna kick your ass, jake…” you tell him as the two of you rush down the hallway, unknowingly in the opposite direction of the living room.

“would’ve been worth it,” jake smirks, stopping and gripping your hips lightly, the intimacy of his thumbs rubbing on your bare skin making your head spin, “your pussy is heaven.”

you smile, small and subtle, eyes wide, “not mad at me anymore?”

he shakes his lightly, “could never really be mad at you.” jake offers you a coy smile.

“doesn’t seem like it,” you argue, smile slipping from your features the tiniest bit. “well… every time you make me mad i can just fuck you like that again. is that what you want, pretty girl?”

your cheeks burn at the sudden nickname, “is that what you want, jake?” he nods slightly, “i’ll fuck you whenever and where ever you want if you’ll let me, baby. no strings attached.”

your heart drops at those three little words leaving his lips, hope of jake reciprocating your feeling sinking deeper into the abyss that clouds your mind most days. his offer is a glimmer of hope, your brain reeling to feel him like that again, even if he’s ‘fucking the attitude’ out of you over and over. you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” you half-lie, continuing to shield your true feelings from him.

“just promise not to fuck any of my friends… you’re mine now.” you nod, heart fluttering at the implication of being jake’s, and the sudden possessiveness he’s now displaying.

jake’s grin grows, pulling you in by your hips for a frantic kiss, pushing his tongue past the expanse of your lips, exploring your mouth with need. you sink into his hold, stomach fluttering at the feeling of one of his hands reaching your ass, squeezing it in his large palm. you groan against his plush lips, allowing him to slip his tongue further down your throat.

“oh my god–” a shrill voice screeching from behind you has you pulling away from jake, seeing sunoo standing there, his hand now covering his eyes, “i’m so sorry, i– jay just told me to round everyone up for cake.” he apologizes and promptly rushes back to the living room.

“don’t worry,” jake whispers, “i can make sure sunoo doesn’t tell a soul, say the word and it’ll be our little secret, angel.”

you nod slightly, staring up at him with wide eyes, “thank you, jake.”

“anything you need and i’ll make it happen,” he promises, giving your ass one last squeeze and a small smack before guiding you forward, “go join the party, i’ll be there in a minute.”

“where have you been, dude?” heeseung questions jake after the cake is cut and shared, prompting the shorter man to shake his head. “nowhere important.” he can see the hidden smile on jake’s face as heeseung watches him, smirking knowingly as he catches your eye in the crowd where you’re talking to riki and waves you over. you excuse yourself and approach the two of them, trying to hide the blush in your cheeks when you glance at jake.

“hi, y/n,” heeseung smiles, “wish you were here earlier, i kicked the birthday boy’s ass in beer pong. it was quite the show.”

you return his smile, “sorry i missed it,” you apologize sincerely, looking down at your plate as you break off another piece of cake to eat. heeseung glances at jake, the smirk still covering his lips. heeseung takes in the way the tips of jake’s ears are turning red as he watches you place a piece of cake in your mouth. “nowhere important, right?” his low tone misses your ears as you munch happily on the vanilla treat.

shit.

jake smacks the back of his head, shooting daggers at his best friend as he whispers, “shut up.”

heeseung leans over to speak into jake’s ear, “just don’t break her heart, jakey boy.”

things are normal between you and jake during the classes you share, for the most part. you can’t stop staring, watching jake and zoning out as your professors drone on about whatever topic you’re covering during the period. you watch his eyes, beautiful and brown, as they stare forward, glancing to meet your gaze every once in a while. you watch his lips, perfectly plump and pink, which tug into a smirk every time jake catches you staring, biting down on his bottom lip at the sight of you watching him.

you take in the overwhelming presence of him, your nerves running in overdrive since the night before, knowing how absolutely stuffed he makes you feel, how jake’s big hands burn where ever they touch, leaving you yearning to be constantly held by him and his soft palms. his hair urges to have a hand run through it, dark and falling across his face in a satisfying way, framing his forehead delicately.

everything about the man beside you overwhelms you, and you can’t seem to look away.

god, you’re fucked.

“what the hell is going on between you and jake?” jay questions as you approach him, nearly falling into him as you try to walk around despite the slight buzz filling your bloodstream.

“jongseong, i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell him, grabbing a seltzer from the fridge and cracking it open, not hesitating to take a few gulps before returning your gaze to him. his eyebrow is quirked up when you look at him again, “you’ve never called me by my government name,” jay challenges, smirking with a knowing look.

“shut up,” you move to cover his mouth, to which he swats your hand away easily, his tolerance much higher than yours. “no,” he argues grabbing your wrist as you try to smack him, “i wanna know.”

you narrow your eyes at him, an action he sees right through, knowing you’re not actually angry seeing the blush growing on your cheeks, “nothing is going on between me and jake.”

“no, there’s something there,” jay tells you, “are you two fucking?”

you nearly spit your sip of seltzer out, coughing for a moment as he hits your back lightly, concern washing over jay’s sharp features. “jesus christ, y/n, don’t die in the frat house, none of these idiots here would know how to help you.”

you shake your head, breathing returning to normal, “jay, we’re not fucking.”

“you’re lying,” jay cracks a knowing smile, laughing lightly, “anyone with eyeballs is able to see there’s something there.”

your resolve begins to crumble, the alcohol seeming to take over your brain more and more, “i– i don’t know what we’re doing…” you shake your head lightly, “we… we fucked on your birthday,” you relinquish. “i… i don’t know how he feels about me, jay.” you hear a noise escape your throat, one that sounds far too vulnerable, and you chase the sound with another swig from the can in your hand. “i try not to think about feelings that much, honestly, they’re so overwhelming.”

jay laughs, “yeah… me neither, don’t worry,” he clinks his solo cup against your can and you both take a sip, “who made the first move?”

“jay!” you shove him, “stop asking so many damn questions!”

“tell her not to shove me like that, jake,” jay says, watching you with satisfaction as your eyes go wide and you whip around to see jake approaching the two of you. 

“don’t hit jay, princess, he has weak skin,” jake tells you, to which jay retorts with “fuck you, sim, you’re supposed to be on my side!”

princess?

well that’s a new one… all of these new nicknames jake has given you since he fucked you have been driving your head crazy, less than platonic feelings swelling inside your tiny, drunk brain as you stare up at the man who grabs a water from the fridge.

“i’m on no one’s side here,” jake argues, twisting the cap off and taking a sip of water. you watch his throat suck the liquid down, adam’s apple bobbing. your body buzzes in response to the small action, stopping yourself from reaching out and running a finger, or your tongue, over the expanse of his throat.

jay tucks a finger under your chin, pushing upwards to make your jaw return to the rest of your face. you smack him on the chest, “don’t touch me, jongseong,” you warn, trying to ignore the fact that you were nearly drooling over jake right in front of him.

“you wanted him to see you drooling, then?” jay counters, voice low enough for jake to miss it.

“shut the hell up,” you ignore his words, eyes returning to jake who is watching you expectantly.

“i’ll be back,” jay exits the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone in the dimly lit room among the various bottles of liquor lining the island and fridge.

“hi, gorgeous,” jake invades your space, pushing you backwards until your back is pressed against the edge of the cold granite countertop.

“jake!” you place your hands on his chest, trying to push him away, “are you trying to make sure people see us like this?!” jake wraps a hand around you, his palm splayed against your upper back, pressing you closer to him.

“maybe.”

you shake your head, watching his eyes darken as he watches you, “did you have fun talking to jay, baby?”

“jake, i’m not going to fuck him, so don’t even start getting mad,” you warn.

“i know pretty, i’m the only one who gets to see you like that, aren’t i?” your silence paired with flushed cheeks gives jake the answer he’s searching for, grinning in response. “good.”

“meet me in the bathroom at the end of the hall in two minutes,” he whispers into your ear before departing from the kitchen, the words making you squish your legs together. you wait with bated breath, watching as the clock on the microwave ticks to the next minute. fuck it, you mumble before setting your drink down and following him, knocking softly on the door before jake tugs you inside.

“hmm, eager, are we?” jake teases, locking the door and pulling you against him by your waist as he leans against the bathroom counter. “couldn’t wait any longer, could you?” you shake your head, words failing you as your face sits desperately close to his, desire swirling beneath your skin. “my obedient girl.”

“wanna suck your dick,” you beg, jake groaning and leaning his head back at your admission, “fuck, pretty, you can’t just say shit like that,” he pushes you down onto your knees, watching in awe as you instantly begin to fumble with his pants, tugging them down. you watch with wide eyes at the sight of his half hard dick sitting beneath his boxers, placing a kiss against the length through the fabric.

“don’t tease me, pretty girl,” jake warns, his tone conveying all the punishments you’d receive for disobeying him. “yes, sir,” you reply, the words going straight to jake’s cock as it hardens in your grasp. “say that again,” he groans, watching your tiny hand as you’re barely able to wrap all the way around his girth.

“say what again? sir?” you watch his cock twitch in your hand, the sight bringing a smirk to your face, kitten licking his tip before placing a delicate kiss on his slit. “you’re so big, sir, i don’t know if you’re gonna fit in my mouth…” you look up at him, blinking your eyes innocently.

you watch as his eyes darken at your actions, “i’ll make it fit, angel,” he presses on the back of your head, guiding you to take his length in your mouth. you slide down, his long cock pressing into the back of your throat harshly, the girth of it stretching your mouth out. “fuck, look at you– you were made to take my cock like this.” jake groans as he watches you suck him in, “my cock.” he reiterates and you nod around his length, continuing to bob up and down before jake takes control, fucking your face.

you begin to drool around his length as you let him use your mouth for his own pleasure, “fuck, baby, taking me so well– letting me fuck your throat like this, you’d let me do anything to this perfect body, wouldn’t you?” he doesn’t need a reply, already knowing the answer as he admires the way your lips stretch around his length, the sight stirring a feeling deep in his stomach. jake thinks you look gorgeous like this, gazing up at him with wide eyes and a hungry gaze, somehow taking his cock deeper every time.

his tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly as jake fucks your face, chasing his high. you keep your mouth slacked, his girth and length making you feel completely stuffed, “look at these tits,” jake watches your tits bounce beneath your tank top, “fuck, you’re perfect,” jake groans as you reach down and squeeze his balls with one of your hands, the other gripping his thigh to keep yourself upright as you sit back on your haunches.

“i’m gonna cum down that gorgeous throat,” jake babbles, even his mindless near-orgasm ramblings sound like music to your ears. he yanks you back and forth along his length a few more times before shoving your face against his pelvic bone, nose smushing against the space right above the base of his dick. you groan at the feeling of his cum hitting the back of your throat, “take it all like the dirty slut you are,” jake commands, pulling away from your mouth slowly after his balls are empty, watching you with a lazy gaze. “swallow.” you follow his instructions promptly, gulping down before sticking your tongue out for him to examine, the sight nearly making him hard again. “good fucking girl,” he praises you, tugging you up off of your knees to meet your lips in a searing kiss.

you groan realizing jake is tasting himself on your lips, the fact not seeming to bother the man as he pushes his tongue into your mouth hungrily, large hands holding your face possessively. “mine,” he whispers against your lips, feeling as you nod in response. “thank you, baby.” he presses one last, gentle kiss against your waiting lips as he tucks himself back into his jeans. “let me make you feel good, too.”

you shake your head, resting both of your hands on his chest, a yawn rising from deep in your belly, “i’m okay, jakey,” you offer him a smile, “tired all of a sudden.” 

“come on, i’ll take you home.”

“i missed you,” wonyoung smiles as the two of you sit together in the library, “feels like that damn flu took me out for fifty years,” she exaggerates, giggling lightly as she sips on her coffee through a small blue straw.

“i know. you’ve missed… a lot.” you cover your face, embarrassment already heating your cheeks. “i… jake and i are sleeping together.”

wonyoung squeals and you glance around worryingly, watching as other students glare at the two of you. you smile in apology, turning to wonyoung and smacking her arm, to which she exclaims a small, “ow!”

“why are you hitting me? this is so exciting!” she whisper yells.

you shake your head, “i mean, yeah it’s exciting, kind of…” you sigh before meeting her gaze, “he doesn’t… it’s… he made it clear that this is a no strings attached kind of situation.”

wonyoung’s eyes go wide, “you’re lying!” you shake your head as her expression shows how much of a hard time she is having trying to process this information. “i– and you agreed to that?”

you nod, shame dusting your face and ears in a deep pink hue, “i just… i couldn’t say no, he had just finished fucking the brains out of my skull, and i think i’m just desperate to have him around in any way that i can… even if it means hurting myself in the process.”

“my poor y/nnie… he still doesn’t know you like him?” you shake your head, to which wonyoung sighs, “it’s been so long, why don’t you just tell him? what’s the worst that could happen?”

“you know exactly what could happen, wony. i could fuck up years of a friendly-ish relationship, and double fuck up the situation we have now. feelings just get in the way of everything.”

wonyoung places her hand atop yours on the table, rubbing the back of your hand in a soothing motion, “well, whatever you decide, it will all turn out okay. i promise. i don’t think jake would ever hurt you on purpose.”

you inhale deeply at the thought of jake caring about you on more than a surface level. “don’t say that, don’t get my hopes up… it’s just gonna hurt more when everything ends up exploding in my face.”

you don’t know how jake convinced you to go to the library with him, citing something about how you’ve been sucking in class these days and he needed to make sure you were studying so that he still had someone to compete against. which was a lie, you were doing just fine in class recently.

you’re absolutely trying to study, but feeling jake beside you makes it an impossible feat. your eyes skim over the digital textbook on your laptop in front of you as jake zones out at random areas of the room, every once in a while his eyes landing on you as he stares for a beat before allowing his eyes to wander around the room once more.

jake’s leg is bouncing up and down as the two of you sit side by side, tapping a pattern on his jeans as he struggles to focus. you eye him up with a confused stare, “what is it?”

jake pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, the sight sending heat straight to your core. “you don’t wanna know, baby.”

his response has a strange bout of confidence sprouting inside your tummy. your hand rises to meet him, rubbing and squeezing on his inner thigh, scarily close to his dick that’s getting harder by the second, “you don’t wanna do that, angel.” jake warns, watching you with a dark gaze. you can see the lust fluttering through his irises, dark and intoxicatingly addictive. you move up to his clothed bulge, giving him a feather light squeeze. jake bites back a groan, his head tipping back as his eyes flutter shut in an attempt to keep his composure. he leans over to whisper in your ear. you can feel his breath on your neck sending shivers up your spine.

“stop, or i’ll bend you over this table right now and fuck you in front of everyone here.”

you gasp in response, grinning as you watch him with a mischievous look in your eye, one that he’s come to quickly recognize since agreeing to your… special relationship.

jake pulls back, his stare darker than moments before and you feel yourself falling into his brown eyes, pupils wide and staring at you as lust dances across his irises. “last chance to back out, angel.”

you shake your head lightly before jake rises, packing both bags in a hurry, tugging you out of the library and heading to your apartment building. “your apartment better be empty, or else wonyoung might get a free show.”

“oh my god, jake,” you’re barely able to keep up with him as he drags you along with him, nearly stumbling over your own feet to keep up. you enter your lobby, leading him to your first floor room and unlocking the door hastily. the moment he’s inside the foyer of your apartment, jake is shoving you up against the door, his lips finding yours instantly. “trying to work me up in front of everyone, baby?” he purrs, one hand cupping your face gently while the other has a searing grip on your hips. every spot he touches burns, watching him with affection in your gaze. “too needy to wait until later, huh?”

you nod dumbly, covering the hand against your cheek with your own, nuzzling against it as you try to hide your growing shame at being so insatiable that you couldn’t even be in public with him for more than thirty minutes before jumping his bones.

“oh, my pretty girl’s all shy now that we’re home? what happened to that brat attitude from before?” jake kisses the back of his teeth before placing a closed mouth kiss on your pouty lips. you hide from his gaze, embarrassed at your bratty behavior from before. “‘m sorry, sir.”

jake nearly moans hearing you use the name he heard for the first time just days before in the bathroom when you sucked his soul out through his dick. he pulls you close in another passionate, messy kiss. “yeah? baby’s sorry?” you nod, watching him with wide, innocent eyes, not seeing the wheels turning in his head as he watches your tiny figure with glee.

jake walks you through the hallway, lips wandering and planting kisses on every bit of exposed skin on your upper half. you lead him to your door, twisting the handle quickly before stumbling inside. jake shuts the door with his foot as he backs you up onto your bed. “i think my baby deserves a punishment.”

jake presses further against your lips, his hands sliding up your frame to hold your tits gently, “could play with these all day,” he mumbles, kneading them in his large hands. you kiss him back slowly, feeling the tension from the past few days dissipate the further he pulls you in, losing yourself in the feeling of his soft lips dancing against yours.

jake smiles as he gives each breast one final squeeze before pulling your sweatshirt over your head, “had i known you were bare under here, baby…” jake sucks harshly on your nipple, your back arching up against his mouth, begging for more.

“you’re lucky i didn’t bend you over that table,” he bites at your breast, leaving a teeth mark on the side of the plump flesh. “everyone would learn fast who you belong to, wouldn’t they?”

you nod, moaning out as he continues his onslaught against your nipple, sucking and biting with fervor, his cock standing tall and proud in his sweatpants.

“you wore those on purpose,” you squeak out between loud moans.

“what? these?” jake motions to the gray sweatpants covering his strong legs, “didn’t know they’d affect you so much, would’ve worn them way sooner if i knew you’d pounce on me like the little slut you are.” he guides your hand to the crotch of his pants, allowing you to squeeze his length through the fabric of his sweats. more wetness gushes out of you at the feeling of the weight of his member, knowing all the damage he can do to you with it. “my little slut, isn’t that right?” you nod diligently, rubbing up and down on his length, trying to rile him up.

jake halts your actions, “naughty whore, can’t even be patient,” he scolds, leading your hand to dip under his waistband. you gasp at the feeling of him not wearing any boxers, allowing you to hold him in your hand, warmth spreading through your body as you jack him off lazily.

jake pulls his sweats down just below the base of his dick and it springs free, hard and ready for you. “fuck–” you groan, watching closely as your hand continues its diligent motions. “love your cock, sir.”

“i know you do, baby,” jake pets your hair gently, “such a good little cock slut, always ready to take me,” he dips his other hand beneath the waistband of your sweats, pushing his hands through your folds. “already this wet and i’ve barely even touched you.”

“just for you,” you groan as he dips one finger inside, pumping roughly, searching for that spongy spot inside of you. jake slips another finger inside, his movements quickening as he listens for the gorgeous noises he loves to hear spill from your lips.

“pull these down,” jake commands and you use your free hand to tug your pants and panties down and off your legs. jake can feel himself salivating at the sight of your gorgeous pussy, slipping a third finger inside next to the other two. he buries them knuckle deep before pulling out, repeating his actions over and over as he watches your facial expressions convey the pleasure he’s bringing you. “fuck, look at you, weak for me and i’m only using my fingers,” the commanding tone in his voice makes you shiver, eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze, dark and swimming with lust. “fuck, jake–” you groan as you feel his fingers begin to reach deeper, your pussy nearly swallowing his hand to the knuckles each time.

“look at how i’ve stretched this tiny pussy out,” jake chuckles, his voice rumbling with need as he glances down at his cock where you’ve halted your handjob, back arching off the bed. he removes his fingers promptly, causing you to whine loudly.

“sir, please–” you plead, eyes brimming with tears, “was so close! i’ll be a good girl!”

jake watches you with amusement, the sight of you whimpering beneath him forcing his brain into overdrive, “good girls do as they’re told. keep jacking me off and if you stop again i won’t let you cum.” you nod at his words, resuming your actions, groaning as you pay extra attention to his leaky red tip, squeezing harder every time you reach the top.

jake dips three fingers back inside you, watching as you squeak out and start panting as he hits a particular spongy spot inside of you. jackpot.

he assaults this spot, other hand snaking down to rub mercilessly at your clit. jake groans as your grip on him becomes tighter as you near your high, “gonna make a mess on my fingers like the good girl you are?”

you nod quickly, mouth hanging slack with your tongue lolling out as you squeak at every jab against your g-spot. “f– f– u– uck–” you scream out between thrusts, your pace on his dick speeding up as you approach the edge. 

with one particularly tight yank of his dick and a swipe over his tip, jake cums hard, liquid spurting out onto your chest and some on your gaping hole. he stills his actions for a moment before coating fingers on both of his hands with his seed. you feel his cum inside you, tears flowing at the onslaught of varying sensations on you at once. his other hand returns to your clit, his lips coming to suck on it as he rubs roughly, while still fucking you with his long, slender fingers.

“ahh!–” you scream out, back arching off the bed as the coil inside you threatens to snap, “fuck! jake–” a slap against your clit followed by a harsh suck of the hardened bud causes you to tumble past your precipice, all of your limbs stilling as jake never halts his actions. he pulls away from your clit to look down. the sight of you cumming, liquid spilling everywhere makes his cock jump, “fuuuuuck, baby,” he continues ramming his fingers inside of you with expert precision, “such a messy girl.”

his words bring a burning sensation to your cheeks, trying to scramble away from jake as he overstimulates you heavily, never ceasing his actions, “jake, please–”

“you’ve got one more in you, baby,” jake tells you, “let jake help you.”

jake removes his fingers before sliding home, his thick cock reaching impossibly deep inside you instantly, sucking him in with familiarity and a still present stretch from the sheer size of him. “fuck, your pussy is heaven sent, angel,” jake’s need overtakes him, jackhammering inside of you harshly, your body jerking with each thrust inside of your already abused hole. he snakes a hand around, holding your asscheeks apart with both hands, lightly tracing a finger around the rim of your asshole. “ahh!–” you gasp at the intrusion, “jake!–”

“this belongs to me, too,” jake tells you, slowly pushing the pad of his finger past your puckered ring, “jake!” you scream, eyes rolling back at the feeling of being double stuffed, even with just a bit of his finger breaching your ass.

“i knew you’d be a slut for anal,” jake whispers as his pounding continues, finger slowly pushing further in through your backdoor, “i’ll hit it from the back next time, how about that, my dirty girl?”

you shake your head, your body’s reaction saying the opposite as jake starts to pump his finger in and out of your tight hole in rhythm with the way his cock is pounding your pussy. “moremoremore!”

“yeah baby? more?” jake shoves his finger further, picking up speed in both holes, nearly cumming seeing the bruise already forming on your plush breast from the searing bite he gave it earlier, the imprint of his teeth visible even from a distance. jake uses his free hand to squeeze your throat tightly, “greedy little cock slut always needs more, can’t just take what she’s given.”

your vision starts to go white from the pressure on your windpipe combined with jake’s dick hitting your spongy spot and his finger pumping knuckle deep into your ass, knowing he’s the only one who’s ever been there. your eyes roll back into your head as you cum, the experience feeling different from any other time you’ve orgasmed.

“you trying to make me cum right now? squirting on me like that, baby?” more liquid continues to gush out of your hole, the wetness on jake’s dick making him groan loudly. he pulls his finger from your ass when the liquid is done streaming from your weeping cunt, smacking your ass harshly and groping at your cheek. “next time, i’m fucking this ass.” he gives you another rough smack, this time on the opposite side, before pulling out of you. “right now? i’m gonna fuck these tits.” jake crawls up your body sliding his dick between your plush mounds of flesh, squeezing them tight around his length. “look at you, letting me use this fucking perfect body however i need,” jake groans, pinching your nipple with one of his hands as he pumps in and out, eyes trained on the way your tits nearly completely cover his length. he chases his high, knowing you’re not anticipating his next actions, your eyes fighting to stay open as he uses you as he pleases.

“fuck, you’re perfect,” jake whispers, teetering on the edge of cumming before he slides away from your tits, shoving his length back into your gaping pussy. a few pumps is all it takes before he’s spilling inside of you, cum hitting your walls in long spurts and filling your pussy, dripping out of you and landing on the sheets beneath you. jake fucks you through his orgasm, pushing two fingers into your mouth before rubbing your abused clit with precision.

“no!– no more, jake!–” you try to push him away, overstimulation tingling around your body after two mind blowing orgasms have already rendered you utterly exhausted.

“your body’s telling me otherwise,” jake smirks, feeling your pussy tighten around him with every pump of his cock and flick of your hardened nub, “gonna give you one more, angel. you can do it.”

you argue against him, the little whimpers leaving your mouth betraying your actions. you scream loudly as the wave of pleasure washes over you, and still jake fucks you through it, his movements never ceasing. you still as it wrecks through you, orgasm finally subsiding as jake pulls out of you slowly, hands running up the sides of your body gently, holding you like you’ll break if he presses too hard. he traces the curves of your body with admiration, wondering how he got so fucking lucky to have you beneath him.

“look at my pretty girl.” he smiles as he watches you return to the land of the living, your mind spinning after three orgasms. jake leans over your body, placing gentle kisses all over your face and neck, littering your body with affection. “did so good for me, angel. such a good girl.” you smile as his words register in your ears, the ringing in them finally leaving as your body returns to its natural state of relaxation.

“no more, please,” you beg.

jake nods, offering you a smile, one that neither of you realize has hidden feelings brewing behind it. “no more, promise. my baby did so good.” he stands on the side of the bed, picking you up and leading you to the bathroom. jake sits you on the counter and starts running water, testing the temperature for you before corking the tub and watching it fill with perfectly hot water.

“mmm– jakey,” you mumble.

he turns to you, standing between your legs, rubbing circles on your kneecaps as he watches your drooping eyes try to focus on his face. “still with me, angel?” you nod lightly as he places a kiss on your forehead. “good, gonna get you all cleaned up and then we’ll get some sleep, okay?” you nod again.

jake sits there for a moment, memorizing the lines of your face and the feeling of your soft skin beneath his fingertips. he turns and stops the water from running. “come here, beautiful,” jake lifts you up again and places you into the tub. you sit there, mind still fuzzy, watching the ceiling lights reflect against the surface of the water. jake tugs his shirt off before sliding in behind you, letting your back rest against his chest.

jake grabs your body wash, lathering it between his hands before he gently spreads the bubbles across your body, diligently scrubbing your tired body clean.

“thank you,” you mumble, leaning the crown of your head back against his chest to look up at him, “of course, angel.” he kisses your forehead and you smile at the action, feeling him rinsing the soap from your skin before your eyes flutter shut for a moment.

the sight of you falling asleep against jake gives him a warm feeling in his stomach.

he washes up quickly, trying to not disturb your sleeping form. jake uncorks the bath and stands, reaching for the nearby towel before helping you to your feet. he dries himself quickly after realizing there’s only one towel, and then he’s wrapping you in it and guiding you to step out of the tub, your eyes still conveying how tired you are. jake tugs on his sweats before stepping back into your bedroom, digging through your drawers for clean clothes. he finds a suitable sleep set and a clean pair of panties before returning to your exhausted form standing still in the bathroom, leaning against the countertop.

“alright pretty,” he guides your legs to step into your panties, pulling them up your legs slowly before following them with a pair of shorts, “did so good for me, baby.” he reassures your tired mind, placing a gentle kiss on your hip after pulling the shorts up to rest on your waist.

jake finishes drying off your top half before tugging the shirt he picked out over your frame, helping you get your arms into the holes. once you’re fully dressed, he watches you with an unknown emotion stirring deep inside his body. “nap time,” he offers you a smile before leading you back to your bed, making note to wash your cum covered sheets later once the two of you wake up again. he lays you down on top of your comforter to keep a barrier between the stained sheets and your freshly washed body, crossing the room to grab a throw blanket and placing it on top of you. jake sneaks in behind you, wrapping his arms around your center and resting his head on your shoulder, breathing in your fresh scent, a smell that brings a sense of peace to his otherwise busy mind.

“get some sleep,” jake kisses your cheek then your shoulder before returning his head to the place it feels most comfortable.

“goodnight, angel.”

you slide through the front door of the frat house the next day, watching as yet another party unfolds before your eyes. you glance around, looking for heeseung or jay, or even sunghoon, knowing jake would reveal himself later in the evening when he got tired of watching you walk around in the tiniest skirt known to man, one you wore purposely just to rile him up.

you pass by a few aquaintances as you continue your search, greeting them kindly, stopping for small talk. the hallways reveal none of the men you’re looking for as you glance down the endless expanse of random doors that line the walls. you stand at the bottom of the stairs, about to head up before you see two people nearly fucking on the top of the steps, causing you to turn around and head back towards the living room.

you walk out into the backyard, finding sunghoon talking with someone near the side of the house, beginning to approach them before you stop. their hushed voices reach your ears as a distinct accent hits you.

“there’s no way you don’t like her, man, i’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“sunghoon,” jake warns, “i don’t like y/n, bro. she means nothing to me, seriously. drop it.”

you feel your heart shatter beneath your ribcage, pieces scattering out and stabbing themselves into your organs as you step back into the house, bumping into someone who catches you before you can tumble to the ground.

“y/n, you okay?” heeseung asks as he watches you, searching your face.

“i– i’m fine heeseung,” you try to wrestle from his hold, “please let me go,” you whimper, tears sliding down your cheeks pathetically, trying to hide your embarrassed face from the tall man.

heeseung drags you into the kitchen, thankfully empty of jay’s usual presence, and he lifts you to sit you down on the counter, the cold surface against your bare legs grounding you the slightest bit. “what’s wrong? do i need to call wonyoung?”

you shake your head, burying your face in your hands, sobs racking your entire body. “i’m so stupid,” you explain between tears, “i shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, i really didn’t mean to, but i heard jake talking about me with sunghoon and i–” you whimper audibly, wiping your eyes with your forearm as you look up at heeseung, who is watching you closely. “i like him so much, heeseung, i have for so long, and he said i didn’t even mean anything to him, and now i feel so fucking embarrassed!” you ramble, your mind feeling fuzzy as you try to fight the tears continuing to tumble down your cheeks, “ever since jay’s birthday party he’s been treating me different, and sometimes i guess i had tricked myself into thinking he might like me back… he– he says the sweetest things whenever we have sex, and treats me so gentle after and calls me all these nicknames… i guess he just says that shit to every girl he manages to get in his bed,” your crying has slowed, anger beginning to mix with sadness as your emotions shift slightly.

“i can’t believe i actually went along with his dumb idea,” you scold yourself, “i’m seriously so stupid.”

you can’t believe you wanted so desperately for jake to return your feelings that you let him use you, believing that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you did. and he shoved your hope right back in your face just to taunt you with it.

god, this is useless.

you’re useless, your brain reminds you.

maybe jake had a point in using you for his own pleasure. he has never once shown you any romantic interest before you agreed to a change in your relationship dynamic, so why would anything change suddenly at the drop of a hat?

why would you think you’d ever be enough for him?

you shake your head, eyes brimming with more tears at the memory of allowing him to use you without question, wondering if you even meant anything at all to jake, sexually or otherwise. how had your crush gotten so bad that you’d let a man devour you and rip you apart just to leave you to pick up the pieces yourself? the sim jaeyun you found yourself crushing on was leagues different than the man you just overheard, and you felt your stomach sink at the thought of the boy you once knew becoming barely recognizable.

“y/n,” heeseung’s voice brings you out of the fog, “y/n, it’s okay, you’re not stupid.” he wraps you in a tight hug, the tears returning as you soak the shoulder of his shirt. “jake’s stupid if he doesn’t realize what a catch you are, pretty.” he rubs your back gently.

“everything okay in here?”

“not now,” heeseung attempts to shoo jake away, to which the australian boy stands still, watching with confusion. “jake, seriously, go away.”

heeseung stumbles as jake shoves him lightly, “what the fuck did you do, man!”

“what you should be asking is what the fuck did you do, jake,” heeseung glares at him, watching his best friend nearly fuck up everything he doesn’t know he’s been longing for this whole time.

jake lets heeseung’s words slip past him, turning to you, eyes lined with concern, “you okay?”

you watch jake, tears still slowly sliding down your red cheeks, shaking your head, “leave me alone, sim.” the venom in your tone tears at his heart, watery gaze watching him with hatred brewing in his heart, “don’t pretend like you care about me.”

“i–”

“jake, leave before something worse happens,” heeseung advises him, holding back the words he actually wants to say to his helplessly blind and stupid best friend. jake obeys, walking slowly out of the kitchen with one last glance at you, the sight of you crying into heeseung’s hold nearly breaking him in two.

oh fuck.

the tidal wave of emotions hits jake all at once, feelings he’s unknowingly denied since you first met all those years ago beginning to settle into his gaze, watching you with hurt at the way you pushed him away with your words.

heeseung pulls jay into the kitchen as he’s walking by, instructing him to take care of you. heeseung approaches jake, who is standing right outside the kitchen and tugs him further into the house, away from you and your sad eyes. “jake, what the fuck dude!”

“i didn’t do anything!” he fights back.

“why the hell would you say that shit about her to hoon!”

realization dawns on him, bringing jake to rub a tired hand against his face, “god, she heard me, didn’t she?” jake asks sheepishly, to which heeseung hits him in the shoulder, saying “yes, you idiot!”

“fuck…” jake sighs deeply, looking up at heeseung, “i really fucked up, didn’t i?”

“yes, dummy!”

jake pinches the bridge of his nose, biting his lower lip out of frustration, “if i was her i’d hate me right now.”

“did you actually mean all that shit you said?”

“i– i didn’t really think much about what we were doing, but hoon was grilling me and saying all this shit like he always does and i just wanted him to shut the hell up, he was overwhelming me with all his stupid questions,” jake shakes his head, frustration brewing in his stomach.

“you like her, don’t you?” jake doesn’t meet heeseung’s eyes, only nodding and sighing deeply, “i didn’t think i did, but seeing her push me away like that made me so sad, dude. i don’t want her to hate me…”

“sometimes you’re stupid, jake,” heeseung places his hands on his shoulders, “just go, man. sleep it off and give her some space. you broke her damn heart, dude.”

you wake up in an unfamiliar bed, glancing around before realizing you’re still in the frat house. “good morning, sunshine,” sunghoon smiles at you as he exits the bathroom, “about time you woke up.”

“sunghoon… what the hell happened last night?” your mind is running a mile a minute, praying you didn’t sleep with jake’s best friend.

“there was no funny business, don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he reassures you, “heeseung brought you here after you nearly cried yourself into a coma in the kitchen.”

you rub at your eyes, sighing loudly as the night’s events wash over you suddenly. “jake’s not here, is he?”

sunghoon shakes his head, “no, he’s not here, so don’t freak out.”

you sigh loudly, “are jay and heeseung here?” sunghoon nods in response, “yeah, jay’s probably cooking something up for you right now.”

“morning, sleeping beauty,” jay greets you as you stumble into the kitchen, the clothes against your skin meant for a much larger frame as you nearly trip over the extra fabric hanging off the bottom of your sweatpants, the legs too long for your shorter body. these must be heeseung’s…

“hi,” you return the greeting, sliding up to sit at a barstool at the island. “is… are you guys okay?”

“us?” jay questions, glancing back at you from his spot at the stove where he’s frying two eggs for you, “i should be asking how you are, y/n.”

“i– i don’t know, honestly. my head really hurts.” jay nods his head towards the end of the island, “heeseung left some ibuprofen out for you.”

you take it, mentally noting to thank him later. “how are you feeling about… everything you heard?” jay questions, trying to choose his words carefully.

“i– he really hurt me, jay.” jay can hear the sniffle in your voice, mentally cursing out his best friend for being so damn blind to his own feelings this whole time. “i don’t… i don’t think i’m gonna go to class today. i can’t face him right now.” your voice is small, your spirit broken from what you overheard last night, knowing all of this, all of you, everything the two of you experienced together and made each other feel, truly meant nothing to him.

“eat up,” jay presents your plate to you. “how’d you know how i like my eggs?”

jay shrugs, grinning, “lucky guess,” he lies easily, knowing now wouldn’t be the right time to tell you that jake gave all six of his close friends a rundown on your favorite and most hated foods after getting plastered one night a few weeks ago.

heeseung ends up driving you back to your apartment, despite protests that it’s close enough to walk. he drops you off, making you promise to eat lunch at the least.

you spend the day lying in bed, alternating between crying until you can feel your chest heaving and a dryness in your eyes from having already cried all the liquid out of your body, to taking intermittent naps, snuggling under your blanket, grasping it tightly for any semblance of stability.

of all the people he chose to hurt, it had to be you. you, the person who has been with him through many stages of life, competing closely with him and hiding your feelings from the first day that you met. the doe eyed boy you met all those years ago felt like a distant memory from the man who decided to control your life and mind, using you for his own gain and tossing you aside when he felt it was fitting.

oh the things you’d do to forget you ever met sim jaeyun.

the next day you drag yourself out of bed, attempting to at least look presentable before stumbling into class, walking to the back and sitting next to riki, not daring to even glance in jake’s direction. riki greets you with a slight nod of his head and you offer him a small smile, the most genuine one you can muster up, for him not forcing you to speak. you know your voice will betray you, and the minute you start speaking you’ll cry instantly.

jake can’t stop looking back at you, his heart breaking every time he sees the frown etched into your features, brows tugged down and lips curling into the opposite of what he wants to see. he tries to catch your gaze, but you avoid him completely, “can he stop looking back here,” you mumble, pulling a small chuckle from riki’s lips. “don’t pay him any mind, y/n.”

the class goes by agonizingly slow, each pointed glance in your direction from jake tearing the pieces of your heart further apart. you ignore him time after time until the professor dismisses you, and you turn to riki with pleading eyes. “can i… can i walk out with you?”

“of course,” riki’s kindness makes your gloomy day a little bit brighter as he gathers his things and leads you out of the classroom, using the door furthest from jake. jake watches you leave, sighing deeply, hoping you won’t avoid him forever.

you walk into your next class with jake a minute late, glancing around to see all the seats taken besides your usual one beside the man you’d like to see the least right now. you set your things down gently and take your seat, watching the professor as they drone on about the lesson. you will your brain to focus on the lecture, but the presence beside you is causing a thumping in your skull and a buzz in your bones. jake keeps stealing glances at your profile, watching and holding himself back from reaching out to touch you gently, to calm the leg that you’re shaking beneath your desk.

you spend the period zoning out, not even caring when the teacher hands out the tests from last week, a high score sitting atop your worksheet. jake watches as you pick the paper up, seeing that he’s lost to you again. the realization doesn’t bring him anger or a competitive drive today, no, it brings him an immense feeling of being lost. jake thinks he’s lost apart of himself when you started ignoring him, and he knows it’s his own fault, vowing to heeseung that he’d fix what he broke between the two of you

you leave the classroom as quickly as humanly possible, hoping to escape without jake catching you. “y/n, please, can we talk?” he questions after catching your wrist in his grasp in the hallway.

you shake your head, watching him with a teary gaze, unable to even squeak out all the things you want to say to him. you want to curse him for ever making you fall for him completely. you urge to reach out and pound your fists against his chest, knowing he’s not hurting the way you are. you want to cry in front of him, making him watch to see how he’s broken you down to the lowest version of yourself. but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of any of these reactions, knowing he’d love to see you suffering because of him, knowing he played you just the exact way he planned to.

you yank your hand away from his grip, the skin burning after you rip it from his grasp. you leave as fast as your exhausted, beat down body can carry you, opting to skip the rest of the day’s obligations.

“y/n, here,” wonyoung perches herself on the side of your bed, “i brought you some ramen, heeseung dropped it off for you, said it’s his favorite brand.” heeseung had omitted the fact that this brand is actually jake’s favorite and not his, the sneaky bastard. she smiles as she presents the bowl to you, with some fresh toppings she obviously adding sitting atop the broth and noodle mixture.

“thanks, wony,” you take a bite, groaning at the taste, “this is so good.”

“good,” she watches you eat with worried eyes, “how are you feeling?”

you swallow your bite before looking up at her, “a little better, i guess.”

wonyoung offers you a weak smile, knowing it’s killing her inside to see you going through this situation with jake. “are you going to your next class?” she questions, hoping you’ll say yes, knowing your grades will start to be affected if you keep skipping the way you have the past few days. she also knows all too well that no man is worth jeopardizing your future over, no matter how long you’ve liked him.

you nod, slurping up the bowl’s contents with speed, “yeah, my professor emailed and asked if i was okay, and i don’t want to worry her any further.”

wonyoung nods in approval at your response, “good. just ignore him the whole time, okay?” to which you nod, gulping down the rest of your broth.

you approach your next class feeling a bit better after eating the meal wonyoung so generously made for you, even if ramen is quick and easy to make, she really didn’t have to care for you the way she did time and time again.

you feel a tug on your arm as someone tugs you in the opposite direction of the place you were heading to, pulling the both of you inside an empty classroom and blocking the exit.

you look up to see jake watching you, his eyes less bright than they usually appear to be, the spark you see whenever he’s hellbent on beating you seemingly absent from his gaze.

“please don’t,” you beg him, not wanting to hear him gloat or whatever the hell he’s planning to do here.

“y/n, please,” jake begs, eyes searching your face for some kind of reassurance that you wouldn’t leave, “please, i need to apologize.”

“you don’t have anything to apologize for,” you lie straight through your teeth, “so can i please just leave?”

jake’s pleading voice is slowly breaking down your resolve, “please, can i at least explain?” when you don’t answer, he takes the opportunity to start laying his feelings out on the table.

“whatever you heard me say, i know it sounded horrible, but i didn’t mean it.”

“oh, so you didn’t mean that i meant nothing to you?” he winces at the words that you throw back in his face, knowing that was one of the worst things he could’ve said.

“no, i didn’t mean it,” jake tells you, gaze piercing yours, “i– i was stupid, y/n, you have to believe me. i only said that to get sunghoon to back off, of course i care about you. i’ve spent how many years by your side? and you think i would actually hate you?”

the words ring in your ears, making your head hurt as you continue to listen to him. “i’m so sorry, y/n, i really am. sunghoon wouldn’t leave me alone and i just wanted him to shut up for once.” jake rubs his hands over his face, breathing a deep sigh against his palms before shoving them back into his jacket pockets, gaze meeting yours again. “when we started messing around… i didn’t know how i felt… i thought it was just fun. but every time i saw you i felt weird, and i didn’t know what it meant, i figured it was normal because we’ve been rivals for so long and i’ve always felt this drive to be better than you. but it started feeling different… i started to just want to be around you all the time, whether we were fucking or not, and i kept denying it to everyone who would ask me.”

jake’s mind flashes back to the countless times sunghoon has harassed him, asking when he’s going to confess to you. “i don’t know when i realized it, but i like you, y/n. i guess i have this whole time, and i’m so sorry i made you think that i didn’t.” he resists the urge to reach out and hold your hand in his, knowing the physical touch would likely only bring him comfort, versus the intent being to ground you as well. “i… i really fucked up, i shouldn’t have asked you to be in a friends with benefits relationship, i should’ve known that’s not what you wanted. i’m sorry if you ever felt like i was using you, i… i’m sorry i didn’t realize my feelings sooner.”

jake’s speech knocks the wind out of you as you stare at him blankly, tears brewing in your eyes, “jake, i–” you mumble, mind swimming at his admission. “thank you for apologizing, i– i think i need some time, if that’s okay.” he nods quickly in response, the action warming you up inside.

“take all the time you need. what i just said is a lot, and it’s okay if you don’t forgive me. i just needed to tell you before i lost you forever.”

“i– i’ll talk to you later okay?” jake nods, moving out of the way of the door, watching you walk away. anxiety brews in his gut as he hopes with his entire being that you’ll forgive him, even though deep down he wonders if he even deserves an ounce of forgiveness.

jake concludes that he doesn’t deserve your forgiveness, that he’s royally fucked up and he’s determined to fix what he’s broken between the two of you.

you let your emotions brew for a few days, jake choosing to give you space during class and every other time you find yourself near him. relief washes over you every time you see him and he doesn’t rush to your side, knowing the simple action would just further complicate the already confusing thoughts in your mind.

you’re still obviously hurt by what he said, jake’s words creating a hole in your heart feeling like you wasted so much time loving someone and hoping to be loved back, even agreeing to a relationship you knew you couldn’t handle without your emotions getting in the way somehow.

the sincerity of his apology and the fear in his eyes when he explained everything to you still remains in your mind, all the positive memories you have with jake sitting in the forefront of your consciousness. you are itching to forgive him, but the fear of him breaking your heart again rings through your mind with every passing thought.

you’ve made a decision in your head, praying it’s the right one, not wanting to get burned again.

“can i talk to you?”

jake nods his head, bidding his friend goodbye as he follows you through campus. you stop at a bench near the fountain by the engineering building, watching as the water spouts up in a gorgeous display, zoning out for a minute. jake waits patiently for you to speak as he takes a seat next to you.

“jake,” you turn to look at him, “i… i accept your apology.” jake’s eyes light up at your admission, “i know feelings are complicated, mine certainly are right now, i just– did you know the whole time how much i liked you?”

jake shakes his head, “no, y/n, i wouldn’t put you through that on purpose, i promise.”

you nod in response, watching your hands that are clasped together in your lap for a moment before looking back up at him. “i– do you really like me? you promise you’re not lying?”

jake nods, reaching out to take your hand in his, giving it a small squeeze, “no lies, i promise.”

“what… where do we go from here?”

jake thinks for a moment, not prepared for the question, before sucking in a breath and asking, “how about i take you out on a real date?”

he catches you off guard with his question, “yeah?” he nods, “yeah, pretty. i meant everything i said, i don’t want you to slip away when you mean so much to me… it just took me an embarrassingly long time to realize how absolutely infatuated with you i am.”

his last sentence makes you embarrassed and you attempt to hide your burning cheeks, knowing your ears are betraying you with the tips turning red. “okay, sim, you can take me on a date.” jake’s eyes sparkle at your agreement, relief crashing over his body in an overwhelming display. you smile at the way his eyes shine as he watches you, feeling contentment settle into your heart, as if he’s putting the broken pieces back together slowly, fixing what he accidentally broke inside you.

“jake, where are you taking me?” you question, brow quirked as the man you’ve wanted for so long stands before you, leaning against his sleek red car. the sight of him waiting so casually, eyes trained off at something in the distance, makes your heart flutter.

“hi, beautiful,” jake greets you, grabbing your hand and raising it above your head, guiding you to do a spin for him as he appreciates your outfit. “you look gorgeous, angel.”

“you don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” you smile at jake as he leads you to the passenger side, opening the door for you and helping you inside. he steps over and takes his seat on the driver’s side, the engine revving to life with the press of a button. “where are we heading?"

jake uses his left hand to steer, the right resting on the gear shift as he takes the two of you off campus, being extra careful as his car now has precious cargo inside. “it’s a surprise,” the midday sun beams down on the two of you as he turns into a neighborhood. you watch his face, appreciating every feature that you’ve admired for years, heart swelling at the thought of the man in front of you reciprocating your feelings.

jake shifts the car into park after a short drive and you look around, taking in the surrounding area. a playground sits in front of you, a small forest sitting a ways behind it, tall trees towering over everything nearby. the sun still cascades through the leaves as jake opens your door, shutting it behind you as you step onto the asphalt of the parking lot surrounding you. he opens his small trunk, pulling a basket out and a small pink and white checkered blanket. you feel a buzz beneath your skin as your eyes sparkle, realizing jake has packed the two of you a picnic lunch for your first date.

jake leads you over to a small patch of grass behind the playground set, the spot having the greenest grass. you wonder if he picked this spot special for the two of you, the possibility of it making your heart soar. he lays the blanket down, flattening it out so no wrinkles are in sight before placing the basket on top and helping you sit down.

“don’t go thinking i’m some master chef now, okay? i had jay help me…” jake says, wanting to hide his face in embarrassment as he pokes fun at himself. you watch as he pulls a variety of dishes out, “but i made some stuff by myself, too!”

this feels strange, but seeing the usually confident and argumentative man you have fought against academically for all these years seemingly doubting himself? it is definitely a different sensation than the ones you’re used to. but the sight made your insides feel fuzzy, butterflies sprouting in your tummy, watching in real time as you feel yourself falling for him even more. “jake, this is lovely,” you place a hand on his arm, his movements halting in response as you reassure him, giving him a light squeeze. “you’re lovely. i’m flattered you did all of this for me.”

“i wanted you to see that i’m serious about this, about us.”

jake takes the plates and bowls out, handing you one, before setting the silverware down in the middle of the blanket. “here, we made some of my favorites and some foods i remember you mentioning over the years… i hope you still like them,” you can hear how nervous he is, “jake, seriously, stop freaking out. it’s just me,” you tell him as he opens one of the glass dishes revealing a bowl of homemade kimchi stew, a dish you know jake has loved for a long time.

“that doesn’t help me,” jake laughs a little at his own embarrassment and nerves, “that’s the whole reason why i’m so nervous… you’re you, and this is my one chance to show you how much i care about you.”

you watch as he opens the next dish, a box of chocolate covered strawberries, “jake,” you glance up, meeting his eyes as you nearly cry at the worried look in them, “i don’t remember the last time i even had these… thank you.”

“i remember you mentioned them sometime in sophomore year,” jake replies sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “holy shit, that makes me sound like such a creep.”

you shake your head, watching jake, “stop it, jake, seriously. i think it’s adorable that you remembered that from so long ago. it’s not weird or creepy!”

jake sees the sincerity in your gaze, letting out a breath of relief, “i… i really like you, seriously, i don’t want to mess up my one chance.”

you grab the sides of jake’s face and gently pull him towards you, capturing his lips in your own, hoping to wash away some of his worries with the action. you feel lighter as you kiss him, his plush, delicate lips feeling like heaven against your own. you missed kissing him, and kissing him now feels so… different. refreshingly so, knowing that the man you’re holding in your arms reciprocates your own feelings that you’ve pushed down and hid from the world for so long.

you pull away after a moment, resting your head against his, “you haven’t messed anything up, jake, okay?”

jake stares into your eyes, his emotions bubbling and growing beneath the surface, watching as he falls more in love with you the longer he watches your gorgeous irises stare back at him, ones that he wouldn’t mind getting lost in. “okay, y/n.” you seal your promise with another kiss, feeling him smile against your lips this time, knowing the man you’re sitting across from is the same one you fell for all those years ago. caring, kind, extremely driven, gorgeous, and above all, captivating in every way, his drive and need to succeed always pushing yourself to be the best version of yourself. and you know his drive to be the best has extended here, going above and beyond to impress you with a sentimental date, the concept of which makes you feel mushy inside.

time passes quickly, conversation and good food flowing between the two of you, giggles and stories being shared, feeling yourself fall further for him the longer you spent by his side. when the sky starts to darken with clouds and the threat of rain, you and jake pack quickly, rushing to the car when raindrops start to fall on your heads. jake drives you both back to campus, the ambience of the water falling on the hood of the car along with the low lull of the radio causing you to fall asleep. jake pulls into his usual parking spot outside his apartment building, picking you up in his arms and setting the picnic basket on your stomach, carrying you to his home, a small studio apartment on the second floor. after somehow unlocking the door without dropping you or waking you up, he sets the picnic basket on the counter before placing you in his bed, tucking you in under his freshly washed blanket. jake busies himself with putting leftovers away as you sleep before coming to join you, sneaking under the covers and spooning you.

jake places a small kiss against the back of your head, watching as your stomach rises and falls peacefully with each quiet breath you take. “sleep well, angel.”

“i haven’t told the guys yet,” jake’s statement shocks you as the two of you walk into the frat hand in hand, a bustling party happening around you. you couldn’t believe after three successful dates and jake asking you to be his girlfriend, that he has kept that from his friends for all that time. “i wanted to tell them together, so they couldn’t bully me.” he jokes, leading you through the house, looking for his three best friends.

you find the three of them standing at the end of a hallway, near the room where you and jake first hooked up. you blush at the sight, glancing up at your boyfriend who gives you a quick wink. “what’s happening in your pretty little head, angel?”

“nothing,” you smack his arm, attempting to push him forwards to meet his friends, “let’s go talk to them before you or i do something crazy.”

“crazy doesn’t necessarily mean bad, though,” jake teases you before relenting, walking towards his friends who all smile at the sight of the two of you.

“i told you so,” heeseung grins the widest of all before jay and sunghoon’s faces drop suddenly, “pay up, jayhoon.”

“stop fucking calling us that,” sunghoon shoves his friend’s shoulder before fishing a $50 bill out of his wallet, jay doing the same but with a $100. “jay you should just be my sugar daddy at this point,” heeseung smirks as he tucks the bills into the inside pocket of his jacket.

sunghoon scoffs at heeseung’s words, shoving his wallet back into his pocket. “heejay will never be a thing, so keep dreaming.” jay teases before looking at you and jake again, watching as you lean your head against his arm as you continue to hold his hand. “glad you came to your senses, jakey boy… i told you it’d work out, didn’t i, y/n?”

“you didn’t say anything remotely close to those words, jay,” you argue, to which he shrugs, “well, i was going to but then you started hitting me.”

“you were playing twenty questions with me while i was in a crisis!”

“we’re actually… i asked y/n to be my girlfriend last week,” jake scratches the back of his head, “so expect to see her around a lot more.”

“ha!” sunghoon smacks heeseung’s shoulder, “pay up!” he sticks his hands out to the other two men, who promptly give him $20 each.

you watch as the money is exchanged, “how much betting on us did you guys do?”

heeseung smirks at the two of you, “a lot. it’s been happening for longer than either of you will ever know.”

“nobody expected jake to actually man up and ask you to be his girlfriend officially this soon except hoon,” jake smacks heeseung and jay at this admission as you realize the trio has known of your semi secret dating the entire time, “what the hell, guys!”

“doesn’t matter, because it all worked out, didn’t it, lovebirds?” heeseung watches you two with a pleased look on his face, “and i knew it would happen, it just took a little while for jake to get his head out of his ass.”

“be nice,” you scold heeseung, “he didn’t know, don’t be mean, heeseung.”

heeseung relents, raising his hands in a defensive manner, “fine, fine.”

the five of you fall into a comfortable conversation, with jay cracking jokes and sunghoon laughing at all of them, heeseung watching them both with amusement in his gaze.

“can we go home? i’m kinda tired…” you ask jake after a while of conversing and enjoying yourself with the four men, staring up at him with two wide eyes that he realizes he’s never been able to say no to, and today will not be the day that he starts. little does he know the ulterior motive brewing in your stomach, wetness growing between your legs since you passed by the room where the two of you first slept together. “sure, pretty. let’s go.” the two of you bid your goodbyes to the trio, watching as they bicker about their betting habits as you head out.

the two of you drive back to jake’s apartment, which will soon be yours since your lease with wonyoung is coming up, and your soon to be former roommate and still current best friend has decided to take a semester abroad, getting into her dream program that she’s been talking about since the summer.

“are you really tired, baby?” a mischievous smile overtakes your features as you shake your head, leading jake to the bed and pushing him to sit on the edge of it. “oh, i see…” jake smiles, hands covering the expanse of your hips as you straddle to sit on his lap.

“want you to make love to me, jakey,” you plead, grinding your core down onto him.

“god, angel–” jake groans at the feeling of you pressing yourself against him, “fuck, you drive me crazy,” he pushes you down further onto his clothed member as you continue your motions, needing to feel more friction. “if i weren’t so hard right now i’d make you ride my thigh forever.”

you groan at his admission, movements faltering and he takes your moment of distraction to pick you up, placing you against the pillows. he pulls back for a moment, tugging his shirt over his head and you gawk at the sight of his toned stomach, only ever seeing it in glimpses during your previous escapades.

“mmm, i could just eat you up,” you tell him, running your fingernails up and down gently along his abs, “can’t believe you’ve hidden this under your shirts all this time…”

“you were itching to get a peek all these years, weren’t you, baby?” jake teases as he takes your shirt off next, tugging your bra off after and pinching a nipple between his fingers. you groan, back arching up as he sucks on the opposite one harshly. “j– jake–” you groan, hands threading into his hair and pulling lightly. he groans against your skin, loving the feeling of the pain rushing through his scalp. “oooh, you like that, pretty boy?” jake moans as you pull his mouth away from your nipple, eyes fluttering shut at the sting traveling through his scalp as you tug at his locks again.

“stop,” jake begs, “another time, baby, let me take care of you tonight.” he sighs in relief as you release your hold on his hair. “alright, sim, you’re free to go this time… but i’ll be saving that for later, baby boy.”

“god, you’re such a menace,” jake groans as his mind returns from the subspace he was slowly slipping into, sliding down the bed until he’s eye level with your core, seeing the wetness nearly escaping from your thin panties. he tugs your skirt off unceremoniously, “been wanting to eat you since the first night i had you, pretty,” jake bites at your panties and yanks them down with his teeth, the sight making you whimper at the pure sex appeal oozing from the man beneath you. jake leans in and dips his tongue between your folds. “fuck, knew you’d taste so sweet, angel.”

jake eats you out like a man starved, slobbering into your folds, pushing his tongue into your pussy, flicking his tongue inside of you. you moan loudly, hands gripping the sheets on the bed, a nearly pornographic sound escaping your lips as jake sucks harshly on your clit, stars appearing behind your eyelids.

“fuck, jake–” you glance down to see the man of your dreams perched between your legs, whimpering at the sight of him biting your inner thighs and gripping your legs tightly, holding them wide open for him to have full access. “you close, angel?” he smiles up at you, the vision of him with your wetness coating his mouth and chin pulling another noise from your parted lips. you nod quickly, “please, jake,” you plead, a request he responds to by continuing his assault on your already abused and leaking pussy, his tongue’s movements pulling a well deserved orgasm from your body, watching as your back arches up, pushing your core further into his mouth.

“jake!” you whine, fluid still gushing out, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure continues to pass over you in overwhelming waves. “‘s too much!”

“oh no it’s not, my sweet angel girl can take it,” jake argues before biting your clit.

“ahh!–” you scream, the sound bringing a smile to jake’s face, continuing to push you to overstimulation with his wet muscle’s motions against your pussy.

jake finally relents after you’re nearly in tears from the overwhelming sensations he’s putting your body through, bringing his face up to be level with yours, his clothed member pressing against your still dripping pussy, “you’re so pretty when you cry, baby.” he whispers with sincerity, capturing your lips in a quick, searing kiss before pulling away again to whisper, “i only ever want to see you cry because i’m making you feel good, okay?”

“okay, jake,” you whisper in response, smile tugging at the corner of your lips at your boyfriend’s insistence on treating you right until the end of time.

“no more crying unless it’s on my cock,” jake smirks, the words making you clench at your pure attraction and adoration for the man in front of you.

watching jake tug his pants down his legs makes you groan, staring down at the huge bulge pressing against his thin boxers. “stop teasing, jake,” you whine.

“baby can’t wait any longer?” you shake your head, watching as jake pulls his boxers off, the blushing, leaking tip of his cock making your mouth water. “ahh, what an eager girl. if you weren’t dripping onto my sheets right now i’d make you suck my cock. but i’ll be nice and give my baby what she needs.” jake rambles on as you can do nothing but stare at his length, drooling at the sight of it, knowing the stretch it gives you is always delicious, never fully adjusting to his generous size even after all the times you’ve been together.

jake breaches your entrance, letting just the tip sit inside your hole. you wiggle, trying to force him further inside, “patience, baby,” he scolds and you whimper at his strict tone coming out. “don’t want me to punish you, do you?” you shake your head. you know you could take a punishment, but right now you just want jake to hold you close as he makes love to you.

jake slowly slides in further, watching with hungry eyes as your hole takes him easily, “fuck, baby, i’m gonna keep you stuffed, my sexy ass girlfriend deserves to be filled up all hours of the day,” he babbles as he buries himself to the hilt, the snug fit of your walls filling his brain with even more delicious, dirty thoughts.

“mm– feel so full,” you mutter, watching jake’s face with adoration and love in your eyes, “thank you, jakey,” you whimper as he slides nearly all the way out, allowing just the tip to stay inside before pushing back in slowly, groaning at the feeling of your gummy walls sucking him right back in without protest, “god, this tiny pussy was made just for my cock.” you nod in response, seeing jake watching your face now before he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders, pressing himself as close to you as he possibly can as he presses his face into your neck, sucking and biting at the junction between your throat and shoulder. jake tries desperately to leave marks, wanting to see them on your gorgeous skin when he wakes up next to you the following morning; little does he know you’ll wake him up with your cock in his mouth, mumbling around the dick that pushes an ache to your jaw about how you just wanted to help as you saw him sleeping with a tent in his boxers.

“need you closer,” you plead as jake rocks slowly in and out of you, love penetrating each thrust as he buries himself as deep as possible inside your pretty hole, the sensations pushing jake to the edge, the rubber band in his stomach begging to snap. “ugh–” you groan against jake’s lips as he captures them in a kiss, slow and sloppy but so full of want and need and unspoken pleas of never leave my side.

jake pulls away from the kiss, continuing to push into you with slow movements, wanting to feel every inch of your walls with each drag of his cock, holding his impending orgasm back behind gritted teeth, “tell me what you need, baby, wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

“just need you,” you plead, eyes watering from the overwhelming presence of jake bearing his body to you, his mind and soul on display as he shows you how much he needs you with each loving action. “just need you,” you repeat, mind slipping away as he continues his movements, hips never tiring as he chases what he knows you need. jake removes one arm from your neck to snake down to your core, rubbing between your folds to gather up your own wetness before rubbing against your clit in the pattern he knows you love.

“fuck– jakey–” you groan, burying your head into the crook of his neck as he stares down at where the two of you meet, mind never getting tired of the visual of you taking him all inside, his length sliding in and out with ease. jake begins to fuck into you faster, nearly rutting against you as he chases the orgasm he knows is brewing in your gut. “come on, my angel girl, make a mess on me,” his words in your ears as you pull away from his neck to look at him. you nearly cry seeing jake meet your gaze; his delicate brown eyes meeting your own, need swimming in his gaze, “fuck!–” you gasp, beginning to babble words that don’t register in your mind as your high washes over you. jake watches your eyes fluttering shut, finally allowing himself to cum with you, pushing as deep as he can. jake watches as your breathing returns to normal, glancing down at the white ring surrounding his length, some of your cum mixture escaping and spilling everywhere. “god, baby, look at you. my perfect angel.” he traces his thumb along your cheek, watching a smile overtake your lips, knowing you’re utterly spent after only two orgasms. the day’s festivities have taken a toll on you, and he can see the tiredness in your eyes as they watch him with adoration.

you smile, “you don’t even know how happy you make me.”

jake cleans both of you off diligently, promising to throw the bedding in the wash tomorrow, knowing the cum would stain if you left it any longer. “i love you,” he breathes out, watching your face for a reaction at his sudden admission. you nearly cry as the words reach your ears, an overwhelming sensation in your gut. “you do?” you whimper, eyesight feeling blurring from the tears accumulating along your lashline. “i do, baby.”

“i love you, too, jakey.” he wraps you in a hug, neither of you caring that you’re both still naked, just needing to feel his hands holding you close to him. your voice is shaky and quiet as he holds you impossibly close, “i love you so much, you don’t even know.”

jake pulls back, holding your shoulders and placing kisses all over your face, on any spot he can reach, “you don’t know how happy i am to hear that, angel. you’ve made my life so much better.”

“now you have a built in study partner for life,” you tease, smiling at his continued onslaught of gentle kisses across your cheeks and nose, on your eyelids and on the corner of your mouth. “for life, huh?” jake teases, watching as your cheeks burn red at the realization of what you’ve said.

“don’t worry, pretty. now that i have you, i’m never letting you go.”

---

guys

there is this cute guy in my calc class, and he's pretty smart. honestly, i think the only reason i think he's cute is because he explained to me how to get the curvature of a vector

we had our first exam last week and he was talking about how he was so ready, and he was going to demolish the curve

fast forward to yesterday when we got our tests back, we were comparing answers and he noticed that we had both gotten the same grade. i have never felt as happy as when i wiped that smug look from his face.

---