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muntitled · 5 months ago

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No Promises

Jake Sim x Fem!Reader

Summary: “So hypothetically, what would you do if I told you the condom broke-”

Warnings: Language, Domestic Fluff, Slight Angst, Himbo!Jake, Nerd!Reader, Smut +18 (minors dni) Dom!Jake, Pussy Drunk Jake, He really wants kids, Breeding Kink, Humping, Grinding, Slight Dub/Con, Unprotected Sex, Dub/Con Raw Sex, Perv!Jake, Rough Sex, Forceful Breeding, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Unedited

I'm ovulating

Jaeyun's head is filled to the brim with unsavoury business as he shuffles through the university office.

'It's simple,' Jake says to himself as he cradles the rugby ball under his arm. 'Not. A big deal.'

Once Jake enters the university office, he is immediately bombarded by the smell of old, academic wood. Here, the less crowded, air conditioned space is a nice breakaway from the sweltering rugby field, but all that plagues Jake’s mind are the overwhelming memories of you.

Specifically, you last night, bathed under the sweet honey glow of your cheap salt lamp. His lips on yours as you straddled him on the floor. Skin everywhere.

Jaeyun still remembers his tongue meshing against your own, all he tasted was the ruddiness of white wine.

The pillow forte you were initially building in the living room lay forgotten around you, instead, the space became a lovenest with the moon staring idly from beyond your cream blinds.

"Ride me," Jake breathed out with his mouth attaching itself to the sensitive skin between your neck and shoulder. He drifted your braids out of the way, letting his hand massage your scalp as he craned your neck backwards.

"I need to see you ride me." His voice was hoarse as he manoeuvred you to straddle his hips.

He remembers the texture of the string of beads tied around your waist.

He remembers the air leaving his lungs when you lowered your heat to his cock.

He remembers not being able to stop.

"Did you buy the condoms," you had asked the diabolical question, right when he was about to get it in.

"Fuck the condoms…" he laughed dryly with his thumb skimming across your hips, bumping against the waist beads, "We're both clean. I wanna feel you."

Jake had been wholly disappointed to see your face harden into that pissed off look that was always aimed at the students you tutored.

He'd be scared if he didn't find it hot.

"That's so incredibly unfunny," you pushed at his chest until he released a winded breath, "Don't piss me off, Jaeyun,"

"Fine- fuck- I was kidding,"

He wasn't. And even when he slipped the condom on and slipped inside, Jake became delirious with pleasure of it all.

"Where do you want me to cum?" he had asked.

Naive, unsuspecting you, had replied, “Inside. Y-You're wearing a condom, right? Inside.” Jake fucking lost his mind all the same.

The evening had ended with Jake skimming his hand over the fullness of your ass as he pulled his bottom lip against his teeth.

He watched the softness of your skin mould under his grip as he snickered, "She gon' take it up the ass like a ventriloquist-"

"Do not quote Kanye at me after we just had sex." You groaned.

But Jake wasn't done because now he was thinking about your ass and you'd both gone on for 2 more rounds.

'It's easy,' says present-day-Jake, shaking his hair as if to clear away the thoughts before they took root and really became a problem for him.

His little inner pep talk guides him to the receptionist desk. 'Just tell her the condom snapped and I may have cum a little inside. It's not my fault I'm fucking huge,' but even just the thought of it has Jake warming with anxiety.

"Good morning, Jake!" It's not difficult to plaster on his golden boy smile for the receptionist. Everyone at this University buys the absolute shit he sells, never once questioning their star athletes true intentions behind his disarming smile. He could get away with murder.

"Morning," Jake replied, knocking on the wood of the large mahogany desk. All this mahogany and yet all he could smell was you. Cocoa Butter was an all consuming thing.

"Is she in?" He asks, prompting the receptionist to nod. As Jake walks down the mouth of a corridor leading to the offices of tutors, professors and assistant professors, he keeps his head bowed until he reaches your door.

When you let him into the empty office, all thoughts vanished. Storming in his mind were solutions as to how he might divulge his little slip-up.

"Keep the door open, Jake, I don't do scandals." He was enamoured at the sight of you seated behind the large brown desk with your eyes dark and sleepy. Jake already tried to work out the probability of you remaining calm at the knowledge that the condom he used last night had been breached but looking at you here, he knew there was no possible reality in which you wouldn't try to murder him.

He closes the door despite your words and all you do is look up from your paper and sigh.

Seduction, he decided, was his only defence.

“Is there a reason you're bothering me at work?”

"Didn't know assistant professors got their own offices," he says, dropping the rugby ball in a corner beside a stack of mind-numbing philosophy manifestos.

"We don't," you say, never looking up from your paper, "I don't know how long I'm gonna have this space to myself to mark in peace, that's why we have to be quick-

"Quick," Jake's head snaps up, "I can do quick."

Instead of taking note of your eyeballs rolling to the back of your skull, Jake instead focuses on the expanse of your cleavage spilling out of that diabolically tight v-neck. "The conversation, Jake. What do you want? I have essays to mark." You drop the papers in a huff of unbridled academic frustration, effectively giving Jake the opening he needs to walk towards your desk until he's behind your chair. His hands drift over your shoulders, kneading the tense skin until your head is rolling back, away from the work.

"I thought you'd be happy to see your boyfriend,” he loved referring to himself as ‘boyfriend’, it made him secure in his role. “I have an inter-uni game to catch with the boys but I'm gracing you with my presence instead," your eyes flutter closed as you relax back into the security of Jake's hands.

"You really don't have to talk, babe,"

"But this place is so suffocating," Jake huffs, letting his eyes drift over the dark and dreary room flooded with books, papers, old, depressing paintings of old depressing philosophers. "I can feel myself getting smarter just being here. It's disgusting."

You hum as Jake's thumb drifts under the thin fabric of your v-neck, kneading into the tissue surrounding your shoulder blade. "It's almost like there's more to campus than just the rugby field," your him bleeds into a moan as Jake fingers prod at a particularly sensitive bundle of nerves.

"I had no idea," he says with mock sarcasm. You chuckle lightly as you let Jake's fingers coax you into a much needed break. The peace is a welcome getaway from the tedium that came from fixing grammatical issues and spelling errors.

Jake's left hand continues to knead at your back while his right drifts to the front of your neck. He could've been a chiropractor in his past life, Jake thinks idly as he cups the base of your throat until he's turning your head to match his ministrations.

"Fuck," that tiny sound leaving your mouth does everything to focus Jake's attention down on you. His eyes are hooded as he watches you seated before him and he's all too aware of the fact that this angle allows him to see down your top, into the pillowy expanse of your cleavage.

Jake pushes his hardening cock against the back of your high back chair as he continues to massage your back and neck.

And sure, maybe his hand may drift a little lower down your chest while the other continues to work at your neck.

You almost don't catch him when he says, "So hypothetically what would you do if I told you the condom broke-"

Your eyes snap open and you try to rid yourself of Jake's hands but the hand drifting against your cleavage cages you to the chair. No running.

"What the fuck is wrong with you lately?! Did I not tell you I would rather die than let you inject me with your evil spawn-"

Something dark settles on Jake's face as he stops his ministrations.

There's a moment of disorientation before you realise that Jake spun your chair to face him. One hand on the back of the chair as he leans down, with your faces far too close for it not to be inappropriate.

"Would it really be so bad?" He whispers, before tilting his head to slot his mouth against yours.

Luckily your senses are heightened but still rational as you push him away, effectively standing up to create more distance between you two.

Jake, however, sees your plan and instead of letting you act it out, he slots you in between himself and the desk. Your butt pressing against the edge of the wood so there was no escape.

"No Jake," you say in frustration because now Jake's hands were pawing at your hips like he usually did when he was coaxing you into being as horny as he was. "Getting me pregnant wouldn't just be bad-"

"Perfect," he says, dipping down to place a kiss on your collar bone, "So we agree-"

"It'd be catastrophic. I'd abort it immediately." Jake's hands curl into your hips and you watch under furrowed brows as Jake begins to fiddle with the drawstring of his shorts.

"You're catholic," he says before dipping down to undo the buttons of your jeans. "You're not aborting my baby."

You think your boyfriend is utterly delirious, but even more harrowing is the bit of molten attraction stirring in the bottom of your stomach at seeing him so sure of something. So in charge.

His bare arms are glistening from playing rugby under the sweltering sun and his skin has that honey tint that drove you feral with lust.

You hated the urge that plagued your mind to push your thighs tightly together but Jake immediately stops you. He pushes your jeans down, leaving you standing dumbly with your mouth hanging open as he slots himself between your legs. You try to wriggle yourself away but Jake keeps you locked with his hands framing your sides.

"Last night was hot, yeah?" He huffs with his shorts hanging lazily under the bulge of his Calvin Kleins. He presses himself against you, moaning straight into the crook of your neck.

"J-Jeez, Jake," you whimper, unable to stop yourself from lifting your hips to meet his grinding, "Y-You're disturbing me from work-" speaking was growing very difficult, especially because Jake was unclipping your bra from behind. "Cus all you think about is sex-"

"All I think about is sex with you." He clarifies as wriggles you out of the v-neck.

"I don't think that's a crime-" he says, immediately cupping your breasts in his large hands as he pushes his cock further against you. Jake throws his head back before huffing and puffing while he stares down at you needily humping against him.

"You say you don't want it," he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip as he lifts his shirt, "but you're like a pup in heat, babe,"

"F-Fuck, if we're gonna do this, hurry before anyone comes," the words are like music to his ears and his exposed stomach flexes as he hurriedly pulls down his boxers.

You help him out of his shirt, and both your movements are so heated, so clumsy, you don't think you've ever been this wet.

"Fuck- you gotta be quick, big boy, before someone comes, yeah?" You repeat, knowing your boyfriend became completely unresponsive and pussy drunk during sex. Jake hums in weak response, far too focused on jerking himself off…the head of his cock periodically bumping against your clothed cunt.

"Say you want this dick- c'mon, say it-" he urges with heavy eyelids and all the fight is wiped out of you. You lean back, opening your legs to accommodate him further between you and Jake only groans as he jerks his cock.

"J-Jake, you can't cum in me, yeah-"

"Come on, bro," he groans as he brings his hand in between your legs. “Still?!”

His fingers prod at your clit as your hips stutter to meet his hand. "I'm just tryna get it in, why are you being like this?"

You manage to slip out a scoff in between your moaning.

"Y-You're not 'getting it in' until you divulge what on earth you're thinking about that has you this fucking feral." he was operating on neandthral level need and you needed to know what the cause of it was. You needed to know what had your boyfriend so strung out on your body, on the scent of you, at the sight of you.

You want this Jake all the time.

"You're so pretty," he mumbles, instead, with his gaze locked firmly on your cunt. He swipes your panties aside, unwilling to part with the cute pink material yet and you arch your back, inviting him in.

"If I tell you what I'm thinking about…" he says, lining his cock up with your cunt. Your entire back now pressed supine against the desk, "You'll end up pregnant before the end of the day," Jake concludes his statement by ramming his cock into your cunt, effectively lodging all your complaints in the back of your throat. The desk creaks as he continually rams his cock into you in viscous, rough thrusts.

He's a panting mess, watching your body contort in pleasure as your breasts jiggle with every thrust.

"Oh my fucking g- fuck-" Jake hovers over you, never once slowing his movements even when he tweaks your nipples.

"You're so fucking pretty, you know that? Taking this dick so fucking good-"

You clench around him, loving how vulgar he got whenever you had sex. His hair is already messy but it becomes even more so when you drag your fingers through it, discarding the hair tie that kept his black curls rained to the back.

"Oh my god, baby, you're such a slut-" he lets his words slip and it only turns you on more and more as you drag him down for a sloppy kiss. Your hips rise to meet his thrusts, willing your orgasm to crest.

"B-Baby-” he pants, “Pretty Baby, I need to tell you something-" the second those words left his mouth in sloppy succession, your alarm bells were ringing. Even more so when he dipped his hands between your body until he was rubbing furious circles against your clit.

"J-Just, shh, Jakey, I'm close-"

"The condom broke, last night-"

Your hips still, but his continue to fuck into you- continues to rub at your clit until your body can't help but obey.

"WHA- OH FUCK, JUST LIKE THAT-" your seeing stars when the tip of Jake's cock rams against that particular pillow of nerves. "F-Fuck Jakey."

He was still your Jakey and he took that as a sign to continue fucking into you with reckless abandon.

"Gonna fill you up with my cum, again princess?"

"Jake-"

"Yesterday when you were riding me," he says in harsh staccato. His breath is rough and rugged. "A-And your hips were moving just right and your tits- God those tits." He leans back to watch them jiggle underneath them and Jake's balls squeezes in warning. "I just-" his voice cracks as he whines, "I just needed to flood you with my cum, baby-" your cunt squeezes his cock once more and you're both dangerously close to the edge.

"H-Here-'' he says, bringing your hand up to his throat. "Choke m-me, I think I'm gonna cum." His words alone have your back arching off the desk, slipping into your own orgasm.

“J-Jake-” Somehow you still muster the energy to choke him like he wants and that has his hips stuttering and the praises flying from his lips as he says, "F-Fuck, I'm cumming for you, Angel. You're milking my cock- babe-" his hips ram into yours as his eyes squeeze shut. Jake's caught in the ultimate pleasure as he imagines everything from your tits swelling with milk, to him fucking you while you were pregnant.

"O-Oh my fucking god," the amount of cum leaking out of his cock threatens to push him out of you, and you're both huffing in the quiet office air.

Soon you're both hurtling down to your current reality, but still, Jake keeps his hand on your hips, listening to your heartbeat.

"If you really don't want one - I'll go get you a plan b right now-"

"W-wait," you stop him from leavi⁷ng, "Let's... talk about it later. No promises."

Jake smiles, "No promises.”

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen headcanons #jake sim x reader #jake sim smut #jake sim fanfic #sim jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun x reader

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shotmrmiller · 2 months ago

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re: rugby team ghoap

it'd been a one-off, seize-the-moment kind of thing. casual hookups aren't really for you, plus you distinctly remember your ex prating on about how the team would only be here for the weekend hence the absolute burning need to go, and you've got work monday.

goodbye, great knowing them. you'd traipsed out of the hotel room with your sneakers in hand, soap's used jersey in the other- a memento of sorts, a trophy. mild serial killer behavior but you reckon since you just became another pearl in their long string of conquests, the least you could do is take something with you that won't be gone with a warm epsom salt bath and a couple of days rest.

("would ye believe yer the prettiest we've ever brought back with us?" right. you know where you stand on that scale, and people like you don't typically pull men like them. another cringe-worthy comment like that and you'd mistake their interest with pity.)

you'd put both jerseys in the wash later that day, and the rattling of your washing machine marked the end of your exciting weekend.

or so you'd thought. from your side of things, you'd wiped your hands clean of their sweat, spit and come and went home, once again falling back into semi-familiarity, expecting to go to work feeling completely relaxed and loose, in more ways than one, while ignoring the photos taken of you and the "star players" at the stadium on social media.

(no one caught your face, what bloody luck.)

when you see them again, it's by pure chance. you'd been ordering a sandwich at a deli down the street, hand already reaching for your wallet when an arm curls around your shoulders, dark, coarse hair of a forearm brushing against your cheek.

cedarwood and citrus. it clings to your senses— a sharp, tangy reminder of that time you'd only look back on when the familiar pang of want pooled searing hot between your legs. small world, you suppose.

"didnae leave a note. stole my jersey. 'm surprised ye didnae leave us money on the table, bonnie." warmth flared beneath your cheeks but you didn't cow to his crude joke.

"i suppose i could've left a tip. what do you want?"

the playful lines around his eyes smoothed as his lips straightened into a firm line, his eyes frostbitten. you ignore the way his touch makes you feel trapped, tethered, a cage made of velvet.

"took my shirt and then didn't show up to a single game after tha'. jus' gettin' wha' i'm owed. unless he's yer favorite."

how can he be your favorite when you know nothing about the sport they play and have no interest in knowing?

"too bad. we come as a package. get yer food, we've a place nearby."

(simon had been nowhere near as good-natured as johnny had about you leaving without a word. made you spit out apologies with swollen lips, only accepted the ones that came with a fluttering of your raw pussy around the splitting thickness of him while soap condescendingly cooed in your ear about lessons having to be learned the hard way.)

#love convenient things turning real inconvenient real fast #got insanely talented athletes huffing and puffing your house down because you didn't leave them a review on yelp #laswell had chewed their ass up and spit them out #dealing with the repercussions of their stupidity had been a fucking NIGHTMARE #she wont even ask if theyre dumb she already knows the answer #you think theyre sticking around til they gotta go again but then there you are #first class flight across the world sitting primly on simons lap #how are they supposed to win if their good luck charm is not with them?#ghoap x reader

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youreamonocoque · 2 years ago

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Ah well, happy for Bath

#rugby #saracens vs bath

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

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Still got it

Artwork by Mmiyoart (2021)

The kids are teenagers, so you and Kento are just their boring parents...right?

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Imagine you and Nanami Kento as parents, but older now, in your forties, and the kids are teenagers at Jujutsu High (much to Kento's displeasure and concern).

The two of you always kept your work life separate to home; the kids knew what the two of you do of course, they all know Curses and Cursed techniques, your two daughters and a son being in possession of these talents themselves.

But you and Kento never come home in mission-wear. You're always patched up by Shoko, one of your oldest and dearest friends, before you walk through the door. Kento never winces as he cooks dinner in a fresh shirt, but behind your bedroom door at night, you gently push his shirt off his shoulders and bathe his wounds, gently kissing his bruises, his head resting back between your breasts as your arms curl round him from behind. You never discuss your kills in front of the kids, the evenings instead, full of talk of exams, arguments with best friends, chastising for using phones at dinner time.

You and Kento make sure you barely overlap at Jujutsu High, teaching students in the other years instead. Your daughters and your son know, in a vague way, that you're both respected First and Second Grade sorcerers in your own right, but to them you're just mum and dad.

Until, one day, that changes. Your three kids, all promising Second Grade sorcerers, and committed to the cause, get into trouble. The Curse they're sent to eliminate is so much stronger than they imagined. Your eldest daughter fights on bravely as your son carries their sister, wounded, to safety. All three are filled with terror as the Curse begins to overwhelm them, their short lives with you and Kento, their adoring parents, flashing in front of their eyes, wondering how the two of you would ever recover from their deaths.

Then, in a flash of black and red, Nanami Kento steps into the fight. A colossal wave of Cursed energy rolls over the children, stunned, breathless, eyes wide as their father, who does maths homework with them, who kisses them all goodnight at bedtime, who bakes at the weekends, instead now ruthlessly, effortlessly wipes the floor with the Curse that nearly killed his babies.

Kento is a demon in battle, tie ripped off, blunt blade whirling, his battle-hardened body just as imposing and lithe as it was in the years before the kids were born. The hands that held theirs when they were tiny, that threw them around ever-so-gently during play-fights, now wielded as weapons with murderous intent.

Even more alarmed are the children, when you appear beside Kento, and as the Curse staggers on its last legs, they hear you shout to Kento- "Throw me!" and, with not an ounce of hesitation, Kento tosses you like a rugby ball, for you to land the killing blow on the Curse.

You are smooth, meticulous, concentrated while making light work of a messy job. The children hear their father hum in approval of you as you take the Curse to task for its crimes against your babies.

Not even sparing the withering corpse a glance, you and Kento rush to your children. You hold your son and eldest daughter's faces, eyes full of tears as you check them all over for damage, their hearts swelling when you praise them for taking care of each other, for doing such a fantastic job holding out until you both arrived.

Kento drops to his knees beside his wounded youngest daughter, gripping her close to him, no less mighty and powerful after years of marriage and raising children. Nanami Kento manages the first and only reverse-cursed technique heal of his whole life, and repairs his daughter's wounds. He holds her to him and weeps quietly as she reassures him, wholly her mother's daughter. Kento grips his son gently around the back of the neck, pulling him down for a tight hug, his son almost breaking at Kento's familiar rumble praising him for prioritising his sister's safety, telling his son he's so proud of the man he's becoming.

Days later, and with the children now recovered, rumours of Nanami-sensei and Nanami-sensei's scathing criticism of and attack on the higher-ups is the talk of the Jujutsu High students. The children are silent throughout, still stunned by the overwhelming skill of their parents.

One of the other students jokingly raises the incident to your kids one day; "Oh man. I wouldn't like to have your parents mad at me. I'd never get over disappointing them."

"Are they...that much of a big deal?" your son asks his friend weakly. His friend raises his eyebrows, amazed, laughing.

"You mean the one and only legends, the Nanami-sensei's? Who the hell did you guys think raised you?"

You and Kento walk down the steps towards them, hands brushing together but not holding, keen to maintain professionalism at school. The children watch as your eyes meet his, love passing between you both, and wonder how they had thought of you as their boring mum and dad for all these years.

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