eternaldesire | 01. i love you too.
GENRE ─ romance. established relationship. intimacy. childhood friends to dating.
synopsis ⟢ you’re in a happy relationship with professional football star — sim jake… but dating an athlete comes with its own challenges, especially when he can’t seem to keep his hands off you.
CONTENT & WARNINGS : sexting (written) explicit sexual content, mature language, consensual intimacy, smut with plot, 18+
Jake is sprawled across his bed, shirtless and restless, his usual post-practice routine of stretching or gaming abandoned entirely because all he can think about is you. As always. The clock on his nightstand mocks him: 5:47 PM. Only thirteen minutes until your tutoring session ends, and he’s counted every minute like a prisoner.
You’re the schools smartest girl. Top grades, student council president, valedictorian…everything one could aspire to be. Because of this, the school forces you to tutor lower grade students every Friday after school for two hours. Jake is ridiculously proud of you, of course. But he also hates Fridays with a passion. Those two hours belong to someone else instead of him, and in Jake’s eyes, that’s two hours too many.
He doesn’t like it. At all.
His phone lights up with another ignored notification, the fifth in ten minutes, and he groans loudly frustrated, tossing his head back against the pillows. His bare muscular chest rises and falls quickly; his sweatpants are riding low on his hips, straining slightly from where he’s been shifting restlessly for the past hour. The room smells like him, warm skin and that stupidly expensive cologne he bought last month that he only wears when he knows you guys are having sex. He’s extra needy today, fuck all day he’s been absolutely craving you. Your beautiful face beneath him, your beautiful moans, your everything.
He grabs his phone typing for the fifteenth time this hour alone.
A pause. He adds a photo: one hand braced above his head while the other rests on his toned stomach near the waistband of those sinful sweatpants. No shirt. Just smooth muscle, which is half threat half plea because holy shit does it take effort not to palm himself through these sweatpants right now. Instead, he shifts onto his stomach with a groan, muscles tense from holding back all day and grabs another pillow to press against the growing heat between his legs. A whine escapes him as friction teases through thin fabric before stopping himself completely. No. Not until you’re here where he belongs inside you not some stupid pillow pretending be your pussy.
No touching himself yet, because that would be cheating. He wants you , not some pathetic substitute when your body is so much better at making him come undone anyway. But fuck if it isn’t hard (in more ways than one). His sweatpants hang dangerously loose on his hips; there's a very obvious tent forming beneath them as he shifts again just thinking about how long it's been since he last had you pressed under him or above him or bent over (it’s only been two days. but that’s way too long for him anyway.)
The silence from your end makes frustration coil tight inside his stomach, but it’s quickly swallowed by something worse. That loneliness clawing its way up his chest whenever he’s away from you for too long. Too long without seeing you, hearing your voice, touching you, holding you, loving you.
Your phone vibrates again and again… and again.
On your hand, you finally finish tutoring and the first thing you see is the 50+ messages from jake mentioning his dick. God. This is what you get for dating an athlete.
what the hell are u on about
Jake practically launches off the bed the second he hears your text notification, phone nearly flying out of his grip as he scrambles to check it. His heart is already pounding, blood rushing south at just seeing your name pop up on his screen after what felt like an eternity. The second he sees your name, that stupidly eager grin splits across his face, all frustration forgotten in an instant because finally, you’re texting him back.
He reads: ‘what the hell are u on about", and for a solid two seconds, his brain short-circuits. Because you ignored him for two fucking hours, Two hours of nothing but needy texts and zero replies. And now you’re acting confused? Like he’s the weird one here? His face screws up in a mix of frustration and desperate amusement. He literally sent you 87 needy texts, 10 photos of his dick and about 5 voice notes that are basically just breathy whimpers and moans for an hour straight.
"You're kidding me," he mutters under his breath in disbelief, “she really just—"
if only i had my pretty girl sucking on it… ❤️❤️
The fifth message follows instantly with another photo: this time zoomed in slightly lower, his sweatpants stretched tight across his thick thighs and a very obvious outline straining against the fabric. No subtlety whatsoever. Just raw desperation. The second he hits send, he flops onto his back again with a groan, one muscular arm slung over his eyes dramatically while the other hand drifts lower on instinct… only to freeze halfway there. No. Not until you’re here, in his arms, where you belong.
But holy shit, he needs you so bad it hurts. He would come pick you up as usual, but he’s too hard to even drive. He’d probably crash remembering how you feel riding him. So laying in his bed like a fucking pornstar it is.
You can’t help smiling to yourself. This is what you have to deal with every single day, your ridiculously clingy (and horny) boyfriend. It’s impossible to stay annoyed at him for long, not when he’s always been like this. Ever since you were little, you’ve called him puppy because that’s exactly what he reminds you of: your own golden retriever, always wanting your attention. You quickly type out a reply, already on your way to his house.
Jake practically vibrates with anticipation the moment he reads your text, your adorable "patience puppy" making his chest swell and his cock throb in equal measure. The nickname alone is enough to melt him into a puddle of goo all the time, You called him that when you were kids playing tag in the park after school, back when he'd chase after you just to tackle-hug and make dumb kissy noises at your cheeks until you giggled too hard to run anymore. Even then, even as children... it was clear: Jake belonged right by your side. Your clingy, over affectionate golden retriever who just happens to also be insanely good at fucking you stupid.
The second he processes "i'm omw,” his entire body tenses like a spring loaded toy. He scrambles off the bed so fast it feels like it spins beneath him, his bare feet hitting the floor as he bolts towards the bathroom without another second wasted.
He can't have you arriving to some sweaty post-workout mess (even though honestly? You’d still ride him if that was the case, and have before, but we don’t talk about that). But no, he always wants to smell nice for you. Wants every inch of himself clean and presentable when those pretty hands finally touch him again after hours too long apart.
The water hits scalding hot, the way you always say helps relax tight muscles, and Jake groans as steam fills up around him quickly; scrubbing himself down with frantic efficiency while muttering under his breath about how long this drive better not take… A record time of seven minutes later: dripping wet and towel slung low on his toned hips, already half-hard again just from imagining all things they’re gonna do tonight.
Puppies don't wait patiently.
Especially not ones starved for their favourite person all day long.
The second the front door clicks shut behind you, jake is on you. No hesitation, no patience left in his body. His large hands immediately find your waist as he crashes his lips onto yours with a hunger that makes your knees weak. There’s no greeting, no soft usual “hey baby”, just pure need as his lips slant over yours in a messy kiss that steals your breath away before you can even form words.
You barely manage to mumble against his starving lips, “What about- ”
Jake doesn't even let you finish your sentence, your muffled protest gets swallowed by his hungry kiss. The bedroom door gets shoved open with more force than necessary. His large hands are everywhere at once, impatiently tugging at fabric like it's personally offending him that there's still clothes separating your skin from his.
"Parents gone," he rasps against your swollen lips—voice wrecked beyond recognition already just from tasting you again after hours apart. "Two days."
Meaning? You're not leaving this room unless it's for food or water, and even then? Only if he carries you there himself so no time is wasted being separated.
A trail of discarded clothing leads straight to the bed, your shirt flung over a chair, skirt dropped somewhere near the doorway, shoes kicked off haphazardly. He breaks the kiss only long enough to yank his own towel off (it hits the floor with a wet slap) ; that thick length of him springing free and already leaking against your thigh. No patience. Not when it's been hours since he felt you wrapped around him. He breaks the kiss only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline, nipping at sensitive spots that make you whimper, as one large hand slides between both of your thighs, fingers spreading through your slickness instantly.
"Fuck," he rasps against your lips, "already so wet for me?" Two fingers push inside without warning, hitting the spot deep within has your toes curling instantly while your hips jerk upward into his touch greedily, before he’s meanly pulling out and on you again, mouth hot and demanding against yours while walking backward toward his bed.
He stumbles forward slightly before gently laying you the onto soft sheets already rumpled from earlier when anticipation had him rolling around waiting for this exact moment. The second your back hits the mattress, he’s on you like a man starved: hands yanking at fabric, teeth grazing your lip before diving back in for another searing kiss. There's a hunger in the way his tongue slides into your mouth, possessive and demanding as he devours you in desperate, needy little whimpers.
Jake lets out a low,filthy groan against your lips as you arch into him, his large hands immediately gripping the back of your thighs to wrap them around his bare waist. His tongue swipes over yours in rough, possessive strokes while his hips grind forward desperately against yours.
"Fuck- " he rasps between kisses, "missed you so much..."
A sharp thrust of his hips pins you harder to the bed as the same hand snakes between your bodies again, just needing to feel how wet and ready for him you are already. His thumb circles over that sweet pussy once before sliding two fingers inside without warning just because watching those pretty eyes flutter shut makes him see stars too.
His fingers curl, impatient, and desperate, to be inside you, now but also to tease like the man has all the self-control in the world, and his lips move to your neck, tongue laving over the sensitive skin in hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses. His teeth graze over that sensitive spot just below your ear, nipping playfully where it always makes you whimper as those fingers pump and curl inside you lazily with practiced familiarity. Jake’s breath comes in ragged bursts, his forehead pressing against yours as he watches your face, every flicker of pleasure, every hitch in your breathing*
“Look at me baby,” he demands hoarsely, “Wanna see those pretty eyes when you come on my hand.”
The second your thighs instinctively tighten around his fingers, that barely-there whimper catching in your throat, “Jake-”, his grin widens, sharp and hungry, as he takes your small hand in his free one as he takes your fingers inside his mouth, tongue pressing flat against your palm in one long, deliberate drag. He slows down his fingers under you, on purpose as his tongue drags over your fingertips with torturous precision, swirling around each one before. His tongue darts between your fingers quick mimicking the exact rhythm he uses when he’s buried between your thighs before pulling them from his mouth in a way that makes you swallow.
“Almost whined for me didn’t you baby?” His voice is rough, dripping with smug satisfaction as he leans in his lips brushing your ear with every word. “Bet you’re remembering how good this tounge feels somewhere else hm?”
He pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze dark and hungry before dragging his tounge slowly over his bottom lip as his fingers continue sliding through your slick with ease.
Gosh he’s so shameless with you.
He presses a kiss to your jaw, chuckling when your hips jerk against his hand for more, but because he’s a tease, he pulls his fingers from your soaked core before you come just to make you suffer for leaving him dry for those two hours.
You groan already wrecked, pupils dilated, he just knows how to get you all needy and wet before he even does anything. You tug him closer on top of you by his neck, pouting up at him, knowing that’s his biggest weakness. “You’re so mean you know that?”
Jake’s eyes already dark with lust and affection, lock onto yours, pupils swallowing the warm brown as he watches your reaction, your pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted as you stare up at him with that perfect mix of innocence and hunger he loves unraveling. He loves this. Loves unraveling you, piece by piece, until the sweetest girl on earth is reduced to a trembling mess under him.
Without warning, Jake immediately claims your mouth in another bruising kiss. This time it’s messy, all teeth and tongue and barely-contained hunger as if trying to steal back every moan you just made around him. One large hand grips under your thigh while the other tangles roughly into your hair tilting your head back further in the position he loves, owning every inch offered painting a clear message he’s never let you once forget: I own every part of you.
His free hand grips your hip hard enough that bruises might bloom later (not that you guys care because he’ll kiss them better later) while grinding himself shamelessly against you.
“Fuck,” he grits out between filthy kisses. “Need inside right now.”
He pulls back just enough to look down at you-his breathing ragged, his lips swollen from kissing you senseless. His eyes burn into yours flickering between hunger and love because even now? Even during moments where lust takes over completely? There's still so much love shining through every glance. His thumb swipes across your bottom lip, smearing the saliva there as he studies your face-the flushed cheeks, the dazed eyes full of want that only ever appear for him. The sight punches straight through his chest like always. He knows what comes next. He's done this a thousand times: teasing until you're a writhing mess beneath him, then demanding those little letters like they're oxygen and he's drowning without them. His voice drops lower, a velvet rasp laced with playful dominance as his other hand trails down your side possessively.
He knows. Of course he knows you want this. He can feel it in the way your body arches toward him, in the heat between your thighs pressing against his hard length, but he needs to hear it. Always has. It’s not control, not really. It's devotion. A ritual only you two share. Him hovering over you like this, breath ragged with restraint even though every muscle is coiled tight with need… and waiting for those three little words from your lips before he claims them properly.
"Say yes," he murmurs—voice thick and low like velvet dragged over gravel, “C'mon baby… tell me."
The request isn’t demanding or impatient, never is, it's soft a whisper of devotion disguised as a command because saying "yes" isn't just permission for him… it's worship. Every time those syllables leave your mouth? His soul fucking ignites. Not because he doubts how badly you want this. Never that. He knows. You’re always wet for him. Your body arches into his touch like a prayer answered without words.
But hearing it? Hearing you say you want him just as much as he wants you? That's everything.
You whisper so quietly he almost doesn't catch it, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. That familiar innocent expression settles on your face, the one that always makes him smile because he knows you better than anyone else.
The words steal the last of his patience. It's unfair how much power you hold over him without even trying.
One second, he’s hovering above you, the next? He opens your thighs to lay in between them, pinning your back against the bed as he nudges himself in your entrance.A slow, filthy grind of hips has him sinking into that tight heat inch by agonisingly perfect inch, groaning like a man receiving salvation itself when you clench around him on instinct.
“Fuck… always so fucking perfect.” he rasps as he finally sinks in home. His hands grip under your thighs hard enough to bruise, as he starts moving in a brutal pace from the start because patience has never been his strongest suit when it comes to being inside of you.
The slap of skin echoes off the walls mixed with gasps and choked moans ripped from both their throats every time he bottoms out inside you, that sweet spot inside you, he knows you love, getting hammered relentlessly on each forward drive.
”Look at me baby,” he demands again through gritted teeth, his free hand lifting your chin, “Want those pretty eyes watching how good I wreck this pussy.”
A particularly sharp thrust knocks a high moan from your beautiful lips which only makes him growl possessively before crashing his mouth onto you’re again - swallowing every sound you make while fucking up into dizzy bliss. His breath comes in rough, uneven bursts as he pounds into you with his usual relentless stamina, every snap of his hips a claiming thrust with each ragged groan torn from his chest, the sound muffled only by the bruising kiss he keeps stealing from your lips between filthy promises. His hands grip your thighs tighter, not enough to hurt. Never that. But firm enough to leave his possessive imprints on your soft skin. Every time he bottoms out inside of you, a broken moan spills past his lips because that perfect clench of yours around him his fucking maddening. Like heaven squeezing down just for him.
“Fuck- fuck, oh baby,” he rasps against your lips in breathy whimpers. “You were made just- fuck, just for me..”
A particularly deep grind has him seeing stars behind his closed eyelids, the wet heat surrounding every inch of his cock is too much and not enough all at once. A sharp cry escapes you as one particularly brutal thrust nails that spot deep inside you and instantly Jake locks onto it like predator scenting blood.
That’s where I’m gonna make my girl come first today.
"Right there baby?" He growls darkly before repeating the angle over and over again with no mercy whatsoever. "Gonna feel this dick everywhere tomorrow."
Jakes hands grip your hips with bruising intensity as you arch into him, each movement sending waves of pleasure through him. His eyes, dark and hungry lock onto yours, watching every flicker of ecstasy on your face like it’s the most sacred thing in the world. Because to him? It is. He was always obsessed with you. From the moment he realized love existed beyond crayons and playgrounds, it was you. The sweet girl who shared her snacks with him when he forgot lunch. The one who held his hand during thunderstorms because she knew he hated them.
But then puberty hit, and suddenly Jake wasn’t just a clingy kid anymore; he was a teenage boy burning for you in ways that made his chest ache at night, a hunger so intense he practically lost training time studying porn tutorials quietly online beforehand so that he’d be able to give you everything the first time because you’re everything to him. (not that he’d ever admitted to you). He waited (barely) until they turned 18 before claiming what had been his since childhood: your body.
That summer night, when he finally kissed you properly after years of chaste, innocent pecks, and then ruined your innocence in the best way possible. Back when his hands trembled with awe and worship, holding your waist for the first time bare beneath him. Now? He’s a seasoned lover, every thrust precise, every touch designed to unravel you completely. But that same desperate devotion lingers; how his breath hitches whenever your walls flutter around him, how he murmurs sweet nothings between filthy commands.
A groan tears from his throat as you clench around him mid-thrust. that sinful pulse that never fails to wreck his self-control even after all this time together (which says something given how often they fuck). He taught you everything: how to kiss properly against lockers between classes, where hands go during makeout sessions, eventually leading up to this, your first time taking every inch of him.
His fingers dig into your flesh, urging faster movements even as sweat drips down both their bodies. The contrast is everything: this gentle man who brings you breakfast from your favourite cafe every morning without fail, who worships the ground you walk on since they were five… the same one currently growling above you like a feral beast because you clench him so perfectly.
"Fuck—yes," he grits out through clenched teeth, "Take it all baby."
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ yayaya first post chat how do we feel about it this was my first time writing smut so lmk what i need to improve on !!
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