Just for the glory - Sim Jake 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁
✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .demigods series
Synopsis: Jake Sim, son of Hermes and captain of cabin 11 at the camp halfblood, is known as the best swordsman of his generation. With his swordsmanship and unshakable confidence, his life seems perfectly under control, until you, challenge him to a sword duel. In front of the entire community, Jake accepts the challenge, confident in his victory. However, he soon discovers that you are not just a beautiful face, but a formidable warrior with skills that surprise him. Amid the fierce competition and growing tension, you two are caught by an unexpected spark. As your hearts begin to intertwine, Jake will have to face a new kind of battle: the duel between pride and love.
Content: +18MDNI fem! reader x jake, pjo au, hermes! son jake x aphrodites! daugther reader, jake is a little cocky i based his character on my man luke castellan ok, violence (sword duel), cursing, sexual tension, oral sex (f recieving), praising, worshipping, dirty talk, explicit sex.
Word count: 10.2k (a bit long but so worth it i swear)
taglist at the end, likes and reblogs are appreciated !!
In camp Halfblood, everybody knew who you were.
Or at least, they thought they knew.
You were the ideal Aprhodite's daughter. Sweet, always soft-spoken, smiling with a kind word for everyone. You helped your sibilings braid their hair before every meal, the younger ones seeing you as an older sister who they always could count on, the older having the necessity of taking care of you. You left little handmade gifts in front of every cabin, just because, and remembered the name of even the shyest campers. You were grace in motion, impeccable manners in every movement, the very picture of your mother's legacy.
Didn't raise your voice, didn't loose temper. You didn't need to. People naturally flocked to you, drawn in by your calm presence and genuine warmth. Your reputation was spotless, your charm unmatched. No one had ever seen you in a real fight. You were considered the peace, where every demigod landed when they were feeling tired, struggling with the heavy air of the camp.
You wore vanilla scented perfume, braided your hair in beautiful, creative ways, decorating with flowers and colorful petals, your clothes always placed beautifully over your body, enchancing your figure. Your hands were gentle, soft fingers with perfect manicure as you helped wounded demigods and waved at the little kids that looked up to you as a mother they never had. A soft, wide smile in your lips, always glistening with lip gloss.
And to be honest, you liked it that way.
"Your strength is in your beauty, and your charm" your mother had said to you once, through a dream, when you first got claimed "Make me feel proud."
Nobody expected anything from you, beyond being lovely and helpful, but that was good, because you were free to move in silence. And although you enjoyed the vision people had of you, you took that into advantage, even if you and your siblings weren't taken very seriously, you wanted to feel powerful, to reach glory. It's what every demigod truly desired, and you weren't the exception.
You were hungry for it, ambition became your dna.
So you let them see only what you wanted.
They didn't see the girl that trained secretly until sunrise, even when you hated early mornings, the girl that read and memorised love poetry but dreamt about the battlefield, the girl that watched Ares kids closely to learn about their movements and strategies, the girl that hurt herself a lot of times trying to perfect her skills with the sword, the arch, and every other existing weapon. You had your own powers, the ones your mother had blessed you with (charmspeak, cursing) but you wanted more.
You didn't really had to prove yourself to anyone, everybody already loved you, but you did it because you could, because you wanted to. Because love isn't always soft, it's protective, fierce, and sometimes it required a blade.
In the moonlight, you drew your hidden blade, an elegant shortsword, delicate-looking, but perfectly balanced. You began to move, each step practiced and precise. Your form was fluid, flawless. There was no hesitation in your strikes, no wasted movement. You moved like water, graceful, calm... deadly.
Few knew about this side of you. You didn’t train to impress anyone. You trained for yourself. For the day someone would push too far. For the day someone would need protecting. For the day you’d have to prove that love isn’t weakness.
✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .
The morning sunlight spilled across Camp HalfBlood like golden syrup, warm and slow. At the Aphrodite cabin, everything was already in perfect order. Beds were made, mirrors sparkled, and the scent of roses and vanilla drifted lazily through the open windows.
You sat on a velvet couch, humming softly as you helped your youngest sister adjust a flower crown on her beautiful, long hair.
“There.” you said with a gentle smile, tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind the little girl’s ear. “You look like a dryad princess.”
Your siblings adored you, and you enjoyed spending time with them like this, quiet, calm, just like you always were. They were like the little family you never had.
Your little sister turned and hugged you “You’re the best, Y/N.”
You kissed the top of her head. “Go get dressed, sweetheart.”
And just like that, the moment of peace shattered.
The cabin doors burst open with a loud bang, doors crashing the walls as your younger brothers came in running and heavy breathing, eyes opened wide.
“Y/N!” Sunoo, one of you brothers shouted breathlessly, his chest heaving, hair wild. “You gotta come see this, the Hermes kids are going at it in the sparring field! Like, full-on duel style! It’s insane!”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes with amusement. Hermes kids, they had the second place as the messiest ones in camp, just under Ares kids, of course. The whole cabin gasped, fluttering around the room with curiosity.
"Wait, like, real swords?" Your sister stared with big, surprised eyes, and you placed a hand on her head, trying to calm her down.
"It's Jake again, i knew someone would challenge him one day"
You blinked slowly, brushing invisible lint off your skirt. Of course, Jake Sim was the main character of today's exciting event.
Jake Sim had the kind of reputation that walked into a room before he did.
The moment someone said his name, you’d hear it all: "Best swordsman at camp," "Captain of Cabin 11," "Hermes' golden boy." He was fast, blindingly so, with reflexes sharper than his blade. Some swore they’d seen him disarm an opponent in under three seconds. Others claimed he could steal your weapon mid-swing and hand it back with a wink.
He wasn’t just skilled. He was annoyingly skilled.
Jake had that effortless swagger, half grin, half smirk, full confidence. He could talk his way out of trouble, into hearts, and across borders. Born to the god of thieves and travelers, Jake carried that legacy like a badge of honor. He never stayed in one place too long, never let anyone too close, but somehow, everyone still wanted to be around him.
Even campers from other cabins, rival cabins, wanted to be his friend, or at the very least, seen near him. He was the kind of demigod others watched on the training field and thought, Yeah, that’s who I want to be when I stop tripping over my own sword.
He was cocky. No, scratch that, he was infuriatingly cocky. But the thing was... he could back it up. Every time.
Jake didn’t take most things seriously, except sword fighting. That was his sanctuary, his art. He trained like he had something to prove, even if no one could figure out what it was. People said he was strong enough to lead a quest on his own. Strong enough to beat a child of Ares in single combat. Strong enough to never lose.
So when someone mentioned a duel with Jake Sim, everyone came running. Because when Jake fought, it wasn’t just a match, it was a show.
"I'm telling you, sister, he's gonna chop that kid's head off"
You rose gracefully, smoothing down your perfectly pressed blouse. Your voice was calm, almost amused. But the sentence made you frown your eyebrows, you were always looking after the kids, so you naturally worried hearing your brother’s words.
"Well, if he's fighting a kid, i must go take a look then"
You quickly put your shoes on, not wasting time before heading out of the cabin.
The air outside was brisk with early morning chill, the kind that made your skin tingle and your senses sharper. You walked calmly across the training grounds, your footsteps light, unhurried. A few of your siblings trailed behind you, excited whispers bouncing between them.
When you reached the edge of the sparring field, the crowd was already thick. Campers from nearly every cabin had gathered in a wide circle, forming a loose ring around the action. You stepped between two taller demigods, murmured a soft “excuse me,” and looked toward the center of the field.
There he was.
Shirt slightly rumpled, curls tousled from the fight, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth like he was enjoying himself just a little too much. His bronze sword flashed in the sunlight, fast and fluid, spinning in perfect arcs. His opponent, a short, golden haired son of Apollo, was panting, wild-eyed, struggling to keep up.
Jake wasn’t even sweating.
He dodged each swing with ease. Not out of necessity, out of amusement. His stance was relaxed, movements smooth, measured. He looked like he was playing. The boy lunged again, desperate, and stumbled.
Jake stepped aside, caught the boy’s wrist mid-swing, and twisted gently, not enough to break anything, but enough to send the sword clattering to the dirt. Then, with a flick of his own blade, he tapped it against the kid’s shoulder.
“Better luck next time, champ,” he said, voice light, teasing. “But maybe wait until you can hold the sword without it shaking, yeah?”
A few campers laughed. A few others didn’t.
Your brows knit as you stepped forward through the crowd. Of course he would find fun in fighting a younger, inexperienced boy, it only fed to his ego. Your heart shattered at the little boy's expression, that protectiveness nature in your eyes.
Your voice was soft, but it carried, clear and unmistakable.
“I expected more from you, Jake Sim.”
The laughter faded like a snapped string. Heads turned. Even the Apollo boy froze, eyes wide.
He hadn’t realized you were there. And yet, there you stood, poised, polished, and completely unreadable. The very picture of Aphrodite grace in a soft cream blouse, sunlight catching in your hair like a halo.
“Oh?” he said, lifting a brow. “And what exactly did you expect?”
You walked toward the center, graceful as ever. You knelt beside the boy first, murmured something too quiet for the others to hear, and gently helped him to his feet. Jake watched, his eyes following you slowly, and he swallowed, of course the first thing you’d do would be check on the boy. You gave him your handkerchief, embroidered, of course, and sent him off with a smile that was more comforting than any healing spell.
Then you straightened and turned to Jake, your tone polite, serene, and yet somehow sharper than any blade.
“A real swordsman knows the difference between a challenge and an easy win,” you said. “He doesn’t swing his pride at someone half his size just to prove he’s still the strongest.”
The crowd let out a soft ripple of ooooohs, but you didn’t flinch. You didn’t even raise your voice.
Jake’s jaw tightened, barely. His fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword. She’s calling you out. Not just for the fight. For everything. The showboating. The ego. The fact that you saw right through it, and weren’t afraid to say it.
For the first time all morning, Jake didn’t have a clever comeback ready. He studied you, this sweet, delicate Aphrodite girl with a quiet voice and ribbons in her hair, like he was seeing you for the first time. He knew you, but like every other demigod in camp, only your facade.
And he didn’t know what to make of you.
You tilted your head slightly, that same gentle smile on your lips.
"What could you know about it, princess?" His tone was sarcastic, teasing, his hand now resting on his hip.
Of course he would say that, always underestimating your lineage, you were used to that, but that didn't mean it didn't strike the wrong buttons in you.
You flipped your hair, lifting your shoulders into an almost lazy expression.
"I don't know, hero." an eyebrow lifted in your face "To be called the best swordsman here, i think that was kind of lame. Your evident hunger and overwhelming pride, you make them too obvious when you're fighting" You kept smiling, and you saw how his jaw clenched a bit. "It's going to be your downfall one day."
A fire lit in him, and you almost laughed, cocky men like him were so easy to get.
Then his smirk returned, slow and full of challenge.
“Careful, sweetheart. That sounded dangerously close to a challenge.”
Someone needs to stop him. Someone needs to remind him that strength isn’t just speed or skill. It’s restraint. It's knowing when to put the sword down.
You looked around.
No one moved.
Then, with a deep breath, you spoke.
"Maybe it was."
Challenge, delivered like a bouquet of roses with a blade hidden in the center. Jake felt something twist in his chest, something like adrenaline, but deeper. Like interest. Like curiosity.
He stepped forward, lowering his sword, just slightly. His eyes met yours, and the grin he gave you now was slower. Less cocky. More intrigued.
“Well,” he said, voice rich with anticipation. “Guess I finally found someone worth my time.”
Your hands stayed at your sides, calm as ever. But your eyes were sharper than glass. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
Jake chuckled, confident.
“Are you?”
You didn’t answer, just winked at him gracefully before turning around, taking the boy’s hand so you could go and help him get clean, all of your sibilings following you, lips parted, still processing what just happened.
Camp’s best swordsman stayed there, watching you as you walked away, eyes lingering to you figure, half smirk still on his lips. Intrigued, curious. A little offended, to be honest.
But it didn’t matter. Revenge would be so sweet.
✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .
“Are you out of your divine mind?!”
The room was a flurry of perfume, silk, and frantic hands as you stood calmly in the center, arms raised slightly as one of your sisters laced her bracers with delicate precision.
“You’re dueling Jake Sim.” Minjeong, your loudest sister, paced dramatically. “Jake. Sim. The golden boy of the entire camp. The guy who once beat two Ares kids in one match without even messing up his hair!”
“I heard he fought a drakon on a solo quest,” another added, wide-eyed. “With a stick.”
Of course they were worried, no other camper had dared to challenge him into a full, real duel, less say an Aprhodite kid, you guys weren't for the fight, it wasn't in your true nature. But you were different, and he was about to see that.
You gave them a soft smile.
“You forgot the part where he’s cocky, overconfident, and clearly underestimates me.”
“Babe, we all underestimate you. That’s the problem.”
You let out a soft laugh, brushing a hair behind your ear. “Good. That’ll make it more satisfying.”
Your siblings paused, blinking.
Then Minjeong narrowed her eyes. “Okay. Who are you and what did you do with Y/N?”
On the other side of the camp, Hermes cabin was buzzing.
“Dude, you are so dead,” one of Jake’s brothers laughed, slapping his shoulder as Jake tightened the straps on his armor.
“Nah,” another chimed in, flopping onto the bunk beside him. “He’s got this. It’s just Y/N.”
Jake didn’t look up. He was focused on adjusting his grip tape, his fingers moving fast. “Exactly. It’s just Y/N.”
But his jaw was clenched.
He wasn't just thinking about the duel itself, he was thinking about you. How you dared to call him out in front of everybody, not even raising your voice, not even making any expression. Just that damn, calm smile in your beautiful face, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. It made him burn, not only with anger, ego already hurt, but with something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
“Yeah, but she called you out in front of everyone,” Jay pointed out with a grin. “Like… burned you alive and smiled while doing it.”
“Did you see her face?” a younger Hermes camper piped up. “She looked like she was about to give him a compliment and then murdered him.”
Jake snorted, finally cracking a grin. “She’s got teeth under all that sugar, huh?”
The others laughed, but Jake’s mind wasn’t entirely on their banter. He kept replaying your voice in his head, calm, soft, but piercing. The way you’d looked at him. Like you already knew exactly how this would end.
It wasn’t just your challenge. It was the fact that you hadn’t been angry. Or scared.
You’d been sure.
Jake had never gone up against someone like that before.
And it was messing with him.
✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .
The field felt different that morning.
Quieter, somehow, like the entire camp was holding its breath.
Campers crowded along the perimeter, perched on rocks, benches, fences. Even a few nymphs had slipped out of the forest to see what the hype was about. Someone had dragged out a banner from last summer’s Capture the Flag game and hastily painted over it in red: JAKE SIM VS. Y/N – BEAUTY VS. THE BEST
Laughter. Shouting. Betting. It was a storm of noise.
Jake was already there, stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders. His sword gleamed at his side, and his hair caught the sun in just the right way, it was almost unfair how good he looked in a fight.
He looked up as soon as he felt you enter.
You stepped through the archway into the field like you weren't walking to a duel, more like you were entering a ballroom. Light-footed. Graceful. Composed.
Your armor was pale gold, custom-fit over soft rose-toned leather. Subtle floral engravings decorated the trim, and the sheath on your hip sparkled faintly with celestial bronze. Your sword was delicate and elegant, thinner than his, but no less dangerous.
For a second, the crowd went quiet again.
Jake couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. You looked like a real life goddess, ready for war, but the delicacy, soft aura that sorrounded you still untouched.
It made his brain tickle, his throat dry. But he played it off.
“Didn’t know they made armor with perfume built in.”
You stopped a few feet away, tilting your head. “Didn’t know they made egos that big without divine intervention.”
Oof. That got a few laughs. You came with these type of comebacks so easily, never seemed touched by his comments, never letting anyone get under your skin.
Jake raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fair.”
His gaze was locked into yours, heavy, lit up, burning with something more than challenge or anger, it was an intense look, as if he was trying to figure you out, trying to look right through you.
A heartbeat passed.
Chiron stepped between you, tall and regal, his voice booming with authority. “Campers. This is a friendly duel. Training blades only. No fatal blows. First to disarm wins.” He looked between the two. “Understood?”
Jake gave a nod. “Sure.”
You smiled sweetly. “Of course.”
Your swords were exchanged for dulled celestial bronze training versions, enchanted to sting like Hades but not kill.
As Chiron backed away, the air thickened. The noise from the crowd melted into the background.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
You just watched each other.
Jake’s smirk faded into something quieter, measured. Curious. You stood with your blade at your side, calm and unmoved, like you were waiting for him to decide when the dance would start. The crowd was roaring behind you two, but Jake barely heard it anymore. You stood across the ring, your sword loose in one hand, eyes locked on his like you were the only two people in the world. Yours shining, sparkling with hunger, he could tell you’d been waiting for this, he just couldn’t understand why exactly.
Then the real game started.
You began to circle. Slowly at first. Measuring. Watching.
Jake’s feet moved in perfect rhythm, fluid, confident. He tilted his head slightly, sizing you up.
“You sure you’re not just here to impress your cabin?” he teased, voice low.
You smiled softly. “You sure you’re not just afraid to lose in front of yours?”
The way you said it, light, airy, like a flower petal on the breeze, made the jab land even harder.
Jake’s smirk twitched. Okay. Cute. You were cool. Calm. Unshaken.
But he knew how to break through that. He always did.
He feinted to the right, quick and sharp.
You didn’t flinch. Instead, your blade rose fast, just enough to parry if he committed. You didn’t overreact. You didn’t fall for it.
Interesting.
Jake took a step in and you mirrored it.
Two more steps.
Then Clash.
Your swords met in a flash of bronze, the sound ringing out like thunder. Your strike was fast. Faster than he expected. Not wild, not emotional, precise. Controlled. You pivoted on your heel, angling your body to minimise target space. Your movements were so clean, so deliberate.
Jake caught the blow, just barely. Your faces were close now, blades pressing, arms trembling with tension.
You were faster than he expected, stronger too. Your swords clashed again, ringing across the field, but Jake barely registered the sound. His focus narrowed, locked on the girl in front of him.
He’d never really looked at you before, not like this. You were always… in the background. The picture of perfection. Helping younger campers with their braids, organizing picnic tables, smiling like nothing in the world could touch you.
But this girl?
This girl moved like a storm pretending to be a breeze.
Every strike you threw was elegant, but lethal. Every step was soft, but deliberate. You were poetry in motion, graceful and deadly. And you weren’t just matching him, you were challenging him.
Jake gritted his teeth and swung again, forcing you to block high, then low. You countered with a fluid pivot that nearly knocked the blade from his hand.
The air was hot, the sun high in the sky, every eye on you two, on the fight. Long minutes passed between swings and hits, where neither of you seemed to be surrendering for now.
He was sweating, like actually sweating.
And you, gods, you still looked serene. Focused, unrattled. It should’ve pissed him off, it did a bit, but instead something in his chest twisted. Tight.
How the hell did he not notice you before?
You could feel his strength in every strike. The way he moved, clean, sharp, confident. There was a reason why they called Jake Sim the best swordsman of his generation.
You spun to the side, narrowly dodging a brutal downswing, and countered with a quick jab towards his side. He blocked it in time, but you saw the flicker in his eyes, surprise.
You weren’t playing anymore.
There was heat in his eyes, not just from the fight. Not from frustration, it was something else. Like curiosity, like awe.
You took a deep breath, and stepped back, reseting your stance. So did he. You were circling again, both breathing harder now, both sweating, neither smiling anymore.
The way you moved, each strike fast and precises, calculated like a chess player five moves ahead. You were good.
But Jake’s eyes kept drifting.
The curve of your shoulders as you pivoted. The way your braid swung behind you, like it was dancing with the wind. The way your perfect skin glistened beneath the sun and the sweat, a few strands sticked to your beautiful face, your makeup still perfectly applied, the way your body seemed to shine. Your armor, subtle, elegant, hugged your body like it has been made by Aphrodite herself. Which, honestly? Wouldn’t been shocking.
And then there were your eyes, focused, glowing, locked on him like a pretador pretending to be a prey.
You stepped into him, swung high. He blocked, but his grip slipped a little, the crowd gasping.
Pull it together, for fucks sake. He thought, tilting his head, chest moving up and down, lips parted as he caught his breath. But for some reason he couldn’t, not when you were this close, not when you smelled like roses and wildfire, sweet and soft. It made his skin shiver even if the day was hot beneath the burning sun. The sweat on his forehead falling along his whole face until it was dripping from his neck.
You spun again, graceful as a dancer, and your leg brushed his as you passed him. His mind scrambled for focus, he tightened his grip and turned, eyes locked on your back for a split second before you twisted around, blade raised. And smiling.
He was so in trouble.
You could feel it, the shift. Jake was still fighting, fast, precise, sharp like always. But there was something different in the way his sword moved now. A half second slower, a little less direct, his eyes weren’t on your blade anymore.
They were on you.
You ducked under his swing, twisted behind him, and let your fingers graze his side, not a hit, just barely a touch. And he froze. Then you stepped back into position, sword up again, and let your gaze flick down his chest, then back up, slow, enough for him to notice, fast enough to pretend it was accidental. This was a different game now, something unspoken.
Jake’s breath hitched.
“You okay there, Sim?” you asked sweetly, voice like honey and silk.
He scowled, but it was weak. His lips twitched like he wanted to smirk.
“Just adjusting.” he muttered, circling again.
You let your shoulders relax, body fluid as you moved. Your braid bounced with each step, catching the sunlight, you could feel his eyes on it. On you.
But you struck again, quick, sharp, letting your body press just a bit too close in the follow-through. He caught your blade, but his footing slipped, just slightly. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body, his arm brushing your waist, his breath was right there, hitting your cheek. It was now your skin’s turn to shiver.
You leaned in, whispered just loud enought for only him to hear.
“Still think this is just a friendly spar?”
His eyes met yours, heated, locked. Fire beneath them.
He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. There was something floating between you two now, something more than just challenge. It was lust, intrigue, desire.
Jake was losing focus, and he knew it. Everytime he got close, you’d look at him like that, eyes calm, soft, but hiding the fire behind them. Like you knew you were pulling his strings and were enjoying every second of it.
He swung low, fast, but you danced out of range like you could read his thoughts, your movements were too smooth, too deliberate. You were baiting him. Then he circled to the left, feinted, struck high, and you caught it. Your blades locked again, faces inches apart, breath mingling.
Your lips were slightly parted, glistening, cherry lip gloss still perfectly applied.
Jake’s chest rose and fell with each breath, sweat slid down the back of his neck, and still, he couldn’t stop looking at your mouth.
You tilted your head, just slightly, close enough to be a whisper.
“You’re distracted.”
“I’m not.” He answered quickly, too quickly.
So you smiled. “You are.”
Your swords scraped as you held the lock, muscles trembling.
“Are you gonna try to kiss me, or are you gonna fight me?” you murmured, so low only he could hear.
And he blinked, just once. And in that exact half-second, you dropped your weight, twisted under his blade, and swept his legs out from under him with one clean, beautiful spin.
Thud.
He hit the ground, flat on his back, sword flying from his hand and skidding across the arena floor, eyes wide open as if he couldn’t believe it.
Then, the crowd exploded. Cheers, gasps, laughter. Your siblings jumping, hugging each other, kids from other cabins going crazy.
You looked around, getting an early hint of that glory you so much desired, that moment, where everyone seemed to be worshipping you, admiring you, you felt something you couldn’t describe. This was what demigods were made for, what you were born for. And today, today you proved it. You smiled at the crowd, bowing gracefully like a ballerina who just finished a perfect show, your siblings throwing pink, beautiful flowers at you, a few getting stuck in your hair.
Jake groaned and blinked up at the sky, still trying to catch his breath, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Then you stepped into his field of vision. You stood over him like a goddess in battle armor, your sword pointed gently at his chest, just where his racing heart was, one eyebrow raised in that maddening, perfect smile.
“Disarmed.” you said simply.
He stared up at you, breathless. Not because of his obvious lost, but because of you.
“Remind me never to underestimate Aprhodite’s kids again.”
You tilted your head, same sweet grin in your lips.
“We’re full of surprises.”
And then you offered him a hand, he stared at it for a few seconds, thinking, his head spinning, going circles, not because of the fall, not because he had been defeated, but because your smell was taking over all the air around him, and for some reason, he wanted his lungs full of it.
He finally took it, sweaty, hot palms against each other. Your fingers were warm, strong, and when you pulled him up, you were close, closer than before. Not just physically.
And suddenly, the duel didn’t feel like the end. It felt like the beginning of something much more dangerous.
✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .
It had been three days. Three days since the duel. Since you, sweet, soft-spoken, perfect little Aprhodite’s daughter had knocked him flat on his back in front of half of the camp and walked away like it meant nothing.
Jake placed the edge of the training arena, jaw tight, arms crossed. The sun was setting behind the trees, casting long shadows across the field where he’d lost. Where you had disarmed him, humiliated him, and smiled while doing it.
His fingers twitched like they were still reaching for the sword you’d knocked away.
And fucking gods, it still pissed him off. Not because he lost, okay, a little bit.
But mostly because you hadn’t even looked surprised. Like you knew all along that you could take him down. Like it was easy. It was the way you looked at him while you fought, calm, focused, like you’d seen through every layer of swagger and charm he wore like armor.
And worse, it was the way he had looked at you, every curve of your body, every flick of your wrist, every step, graceful, purposeful, dangerous. How your figure moved, how your face stayed calm all the time, looking beautiful, perfect. His whole body shivered just at the memory. You hadn’t just beat him in duel.
You unraveled him.
Now he didn’t know what the fuck he wanted. Part of him wanted a rematch, part of him wanted to kiss you just to see if you would let him, part of him wanted to grab his sword, drag you back into the arena and lose on purpose just to feel that thrill again.
You’re Jake Sim. Son of Hermes. Captain of cabin 11. Everyone looks up to you.
How could he just walk up to the girl who beat him, who toyed with him, and say “Hey, i haven’t stopped thinking about you. You got under my skin and i don’t know what to do with that.”
It felt like surrender. And he never, never did that.
But what terrified him more than bruised pride, was the thought of never seeing you like that again. The thought of you walking away from whatever the hell this was.
Jake looked down at his hands, strong, calloused, steady. But for the first time, he didn’t know what to do with them.
The Aprhodite cabin was glowing in the afternoon light, sun filtering through silk pink curtains, the scent of jasmine and rosewater drifting in the air as some of your sibilings had a relaxing, spa day.
You sat on the edge of your sister’s bed, weaving ribbons through a braid with steady, practiced hands. Your touch was soft, gentle, perfect, as always. You smiled when your sister thanked you, gave her a quiet “Of course” and rose to help another camper fix the hem of a dress.
Your movements were calm, graceful.
But your thoughts? Nowhere near calm.
They were back in the arena. Back with the weight of Jake’s body hitting the ground, the way the crowd roared, the he’d looked up at you, surprised, winded, and just a little bit wrecked.
A thrill sparked in your chest all over again.
You did that.
For once, your strength hadn’d been hidden behind beauty or kindness or smiles. You’d shown it. Proved it. And not just to the camp, but to him.
And gods, the look on his face.
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the grin creeping onto your lips as you adjusted a camper’s hair clip.
He’d looked at you like he couldn’t decide wether to fight you or fall for you. And if you were being honest with yourself, you kind of hoped it was both.
Because as much as you were proud of your win, of the way you’d flipped him on his back in front of everyone, you couldn’t stop thinking about the tension in his jaw. The heat in his eyes, the sweat falling from his neck, his dark hair sticked to his forehead, his plump, perfect lips parted as he tried to catch his breath. The way his voice dropped.
There had been something there. Not just in the way you two moved, but in the pause between your strikes. The almost-touch, the almost-kiss. The hunger for something unspoken that wasn’t just glory.
He hadn’t spoke to you since then, not once. Was it pride? Or was he trying to stay away from you?
The idea of him thinking about you, fighting with the same pull, made your chest tighten in a way that was far too satisfying.
✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .
In the armory, the air was thick with the scent of oiled leather and iron. Faint dust danced in golden rays of afternoon light cutting through the narrow windows. It was quiet. Undisturbed. You decided to go there to pick a few new weapons for this year's Capture the Flag, after all, you were the camp's new favorite warrior.
But then Jake Sim walked in.
His boots echoed slightly against the stone floor. He didn’t speak at first, he just watched you.
You stood with your back to him, delicately running your fingers along the line of dagger belts laid across a wooden table. The soft curve on your neck, the gentle sway of your hair, Jake’s eyes followed every detail like it was dangerous.
Because it was.
His heart was racing and he knew exactly why, it was because of you, because of the thoughts he had been having about you, about what you did to him and what he wanted to do to you. It was driving him crazy.
“You always this graceful picking out weapon straps?” he finally said, voice just low enough to carry.
You turned, slowly, as if you’d known he was watching all along. His raspy voice echoing, you suppressed a smirk. He was wearing the camp shirt, tightened around his chest because of his muscular body, veins popping under the slightly tanned skin of his arms, hair perfectly slicked back, that same, cocky, confident smirk in his lips. It made you want to kill him or jump right onto him an devour him.
“Only when i know someone is staring.” you said with a smile so subtle it felt like a secret.
Jake’s heart kicked hard in his chest again.
You were dressed simply, white tank top and cotton shorts, your usual camp gear. But the way you stood there, confident and completely at ease, made it impossible to look away. Your lips were glossed with something soft and pink. Your eyes sparkled, playful, unreadable. Your beautiful, long eyelashes decorated with perfectly applied mascara, a soft red blush on your cheeks.
“Didn’t expect to see you here”. You said, drifting closer to the display, tracing the edge of a bronze buckle.
Jake leaned against the nearby bench, arms crossed, trying to look unbothered. Trying.
It was the first time you two were talking after the events in the arena, the first time you two were alone, in a room, with those drowning feelings that none of you had put the finger on, it was like a recipe for disaster. And you were about to fall inside of it, deep.
“Didn’t expect you to haunt my thoughts either, but here we are.”
Your eyes lifted. And there it was, that flicker of fire beneath the calm, sweet surface. Made him want to forget all of his pride and kneel down in front of you to worship you.
“You’ve been thinking about me?” A shiver went down your spine when he smirked, cocky out of habit, but inside he was drowning.
“You beat me in front of everyone. It’s hard to forget something like that.”
Was it just that? Or something else? Something heavier, deeper, hotter. You didn't know. Jake was a cocky man, pride showered him like a second skin, you knew it was hard for a demigod like him letting those words leave his mouth, and for some reason, it was satisfying.
“Mmm.” You murmured, stepping a little closer. “I think you liked it.”
Jake didn’t respond, he couldn’t. You were closer now, not enough to touch, but gods, it was close. He could see every detail of you, the way your lips parted as you breathed, the faint blush rising to your cheeks, the slight rinse and fall of your chest, you beautiful, perfect body.
And you were watching him, really watching him. Not just for his words, but for every breath he took. The air filled with tension, desire, something unbereable.
“You’re tense.” You said softly, eyes dropping to his clenched jaw.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
You took another step forward, the tips of your fingers brushed the hem of his shirt, not enought to count as a touch, but just enough to promise one. His body tensed, his gaze locked with yours, intense, deep.
“You’ve been acting like you’re unaffected. But i see the way you look at me, Jake.”
His throat went dry, he didn’t move. If he moved, he wasn’t sure he’d been able to stop himself. He was a man with ambition, who always followed his desires. And right now, they weren’t innocent desires.
You tilted your head slightly, he fucking loved when you did that, when you acted all innocent and pure, and maybe you were, but now he was seeing right through it, and your lips now were barely a breath from his.
“Say it.” You whispered, challenging him, once again, doing the thing that drove him crazy.
Jake stared at you, jaw clenched, heart hammering. His pride screamed to hold back, to play it off, to make a cocky comment. But the desire? The desire had been clawing at his insides since the second you’d walked into his life.
“You’re driving me insane.” He said finally, low, deep voice as he spoke “And i don’t know if i want to kiss you or throw my sword at your head.”
And you laughed, soft and slow, your whole body twitching a his confession. Because you felt that too, you’d been wanting, all of it, too, to fight him again, to win again, to kiss him, to feel him.
“You want to kiss me.” You said simply.
Then, finally, he moved.
One hand reached up, cupping the side of your face. His strong, calloused thumb brushed along your jawline, slow, reverent, fingertips tickling. His other hand found your waist, fingers flexing against the fabric of your tank top. He looked at you like you were the most dangerous thing he’d ever faced, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight or surrender.
“Tell me to stop.” He whispered, voice rough, shaky, hot breath against yours.
“Don’t you dare.”
And he kissed you.
Not rough, not rushed. But deep, like he’d been starved for you and didn’t know how to go slow. Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer. You kissed him like you knew exactly how long he’d been holding back, like you’d been holding back too.
The room spun, the rest of the world fell away.
There was only the heat of his mouth, the press of his body against yours, the way your breaths tangled like you were trying to inhale each other. Your lips were moving above each others at a slow, almost teasing pace, like the one you had in the battlefield, dancing while little sighs left both of your mouths, hot breaths colliding. His lips were soft, plushed, and he tasted sweet, it made you tremble and you had to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer, deeper. Jake whimpered, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue, exploring your mouth with it and tangling it with yours, sending that familiar shiver down your spine.
He slid his hand from your waist to the small of your back, pulling your flush against him, your fingers were tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch. He let out a soft sound in the back of his throat, frustration, relief, desire.
When you bit gently at his lower lip, he growled.
“Gods.” he muttered into your mouth. “You’re going to ruin me.”
And you laughed against him.
In one smooth, desperate morion, he lifted you, hands gripping under your exposed thighs as you gasped, and set you up on the workbench behind you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking him in. The bench creaked beneath you, old wood protesting, but neither of you cared.
Your hands then slipped beneath the edge of his shirt, palms pressed to his warm, tanned skin. You felt the tension in him, tight and coiled like a spring ready to snap. Jake kissed you like he’d been starving, like every second of restraint he’d shown since the duel had been building to this one moment. His hands were everywhere, your thighs, your waist, your back, memorising you.
He pulled back just enough to look at you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen, lip gloss ruined, your eyes dark and bright and locked on him like he was something you couldn’t quite resist either.
“I tried not to want this.” He admitted, breath ragged.
You touched his face, gentle, detailing every inch of his gorgeous features. “I didn’t.”
He exhaled a soft laugh, forehead dropping to your shoulder.
“Of course you didn’t.” He murmured, smiling against your skin. “You’re too damn perfect.”
You slid your fingers through his hair again, dark brown strands between them, nail grazing lightly at his scalp. “Still think i’m just a pretty girl?”
Jake pulled back to meet your eyes again.
“No.” He said, voice low and sure “You’re dangerous, and i want more.”
And then he kissed you again, deep, slow, like he really meant it this time. Like it wasn’t just heat or revenge or rivarly anymore.
Like it was want, it was real.
And you let him, opening your mouth and recieving his wet, warm tongue, sucking it and letting out little sounds that only made him kiss you harder, his rough hands now caressing the skin of your thighs, gripping a little tight like wanting to mark his fingers, his kiss becoming sloppier, needier, he wasn’t holding back anymore. The stubborness in you had faded away, since the moment he put his lips above yours, and right now, you were going to let him do as he pleased, because you wanted that too.
So you slid your delicate, smooth hands beneath his shirt, now touching the bare skin of his abs, tracing the perfectly built lines, thanks to his training, then his chest, then down again, deleiting yourself with that soft skin, that was burning beneath your fingers, and he whimpered again, biting your lip so hard that it stinged a little, but you didn’t care, you just moaned, low, softly, and he lost his mind. Because his hands now traveled to your covered ass cheeks, squeezing them tight above the cotton of your shorts, shamelessly groping as if he’d never touched anyone before, because the sound that left his throat was different this time. And you squirmed, the shiver that once was settled on your spine moving down all the way to your core, ending up in a wetness that you couldn’t ignore.
He broke the kiss, but only to bring his face to the curve of your neck, kissing there, sucking, licking, hot and wet tongue against your skin, and you tilted your head, giving him more space, eyes closed as you sighed.
“Fuck, this damn smell.” He whispered with broken voice, lust being the only tone in it “It’s been driving me crazy.”
You bit your lip when he caught your skin between his teeth, biting, marking, slightly arching your back, your covered breasts making contact with his chest, and he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, practically breathless.
“You want this, right here?” he asked, deep in his heart wishing you’d say yes.
And of course, you nodded, fluttering your eyelashes in that way that made his knees weak.
So he wasted no time, grabbing the hem of your tank top and lifting it over your shoulders, sliding it out of you with desperation, your bare, perfect breasts in front of him, nipples hard the second the air made contact with them. And his face, he looked completely wrecked as he admired you. Dark, lustful but shiny eyes taking in every inch of your body. He was sure that you were Aprhodite herself brought to life.
His face buried in your chest, hand cupping one of your breasts and tongue licking and sucking into the other, and you moaned high pitched, arching your back again and gripping his hair wanting to feel him closer, your whole body shivering, the wetness between your legs now completely impossible to ignore. The sound of his mouth against your skin combining with your whimpers, your legs trembling, no man had ever touched you like that before, like worshipping you.
“J-Jake…” you moaned, biting your lip, eyes sparkling filled with need and desire and hunger.
“You’re a fucking goddess.” He whispered, not letting go of your nipple, hand squeezing. “I’d let you ruin my whole life.”
That was the hottest thing someone had ever said to you, and you whimpered, stretching your hand so you could touch him again, helping him slid out of his shirt, this one ending up on the floor along your tank top. And the sight was breath taking, his glistening, tanned skin, his toned abs, his pumped chest, the veins in his arms. He was a god too, you were sure about that. Your hand ended up sliding beneath his cargo pants, palm making contact with his already hardened member, and he growled again, thrusting his hips needfully to meet with your touch. He was thick, hard, throbbing through his boxers, and you whimpered again when he did the same to you, manly hand finding your clothed pussy, rubbing his fingers against you, your wetness noticeable through the thin, laced fabric of your underwear.
"Do you taste just as sweet as you smell?" He whispered, in your ear, teeth biting your earlobe, you didn't respond, not being able too, your whole body feeling like it was on fire.
Your legs threatened to close, but he kept his other hand on your kneee, forcing you open, thumb rubbing circles against your swollen, clothed clit. Then, in just a second, your back crashed with the wall as he slid down your shorts, and underwear, throwing them on the floor and just taking a second to admire you. Your face was red, you were now naked, there, in the armory, in front of him, and the look in his eyes was completely different. He was broken. His gaze trailed down your body, your breasts, your torso, between your legs, your beautiful, heavenly pussy in front of him, dripping, wet, glistening, needy.
He didn't say anything, he couldn't find the words to even try to describe you. So he knelt down, like a mortal in his favourite goddess altar, hands gripping your thighs, tight, he wet his lips with his tongue, and your hands found his hair again, he closed his eyes as you caressed him. Few seconds passed, and he leaned in, face buried between your legs, looking so gorgeous, but so fucked. And then, a long, soaked, warm lick, his tongue traced a slow line in your folds, and you screamed, throwing your head back. And the sound he let out, was almost unnatural.
Jake kept his eyes closed as he sucked your clit, tongue tracing circles before starting to suck you, tasting you, swallowing you, devouring you. He ate you out like an starved man, spitting and licking and whining against your soaked pussy, nose rubbing with your aching clit, and you could only whimper and moan, rocking your hips into his face, begging him to never stop. And he wouldn't dare, because you were the sweetest thing he'd ever put in his mouth, in that moment, he wanted to die between your legs. His face was a mess, chin soaked in your arousal, cheeks red, eyes still closed. One finger found your entrance, sliding between your walls so good and your pussy clenched around it, the wood beneath your body completely soaked, sticky with your sweat and fluids.
"So sweet." He whispered, his hot breath crashing with the skin of your inner thighs, and then he opened his eyes, dark gaze locked with yours.
His finger thrusted inside and out of you, lips wrapped around your clit, and you whined, your legs shaking, twitching, trembling, sweat starting to fall down your forehead. Second finger slid, curling inside of you, stretching you so good, brushing teasing your g-spot.
“G-Gods.” You whined, pulling strands of his hair.
Jake then stood up again, cleaning his lips with his palm before devouring your mouth again, and you could taste yourself in his hot mouth, your dripping pussy still pulsing, clenching around nothing. But not for too long, because he slid two of his fingers inside of you again, deep, hard, rough, now really fucking you with them, curling them and bumping them into your g-spot over and over again, spreading your walls, soaking them with your fluids.
“Fuck, you’re leaking.” his voice was so weak, so broken. “Can’t wait to feel you. Been wanting this since you called me out with that beautiful face.”
Palm was crashing with your clit, fingers moving in and out fast, the wet sounds and moans being the only ones in the hot, barely illuminated room. Your whole body tensed, showered in pleasure.
Then Jake pulled them out, and you whined, teary eyes looking at him like really full of desire, of want, of need. And he couldn’t hold back anymore, not when you were so perfect, so gorgeous. So made for him.
So he finally, finally took his member out, throbbing, thick, hard, veins popped up, red tip leaking, he was full of need too. And your eyes shined, your mouth watered, the lust taking you over. He didn’t wait much, he couldn’t, so he stroked himself a few times, jaw clenched and hisses through his teeth, he rubbed his tip between your folds, teasing you and himself, one hand gripped to your waist, marking. And then, he slowly slid in, and you grabbed his shoulders for balance, because the feeling crushed your brain and body, his thick length stretching you as good as his fingers, deep, slow, you watched as it disappeared inside of you. And he groaned, low, eyes sticked to yours, thrusting his hips a few times, still at a slow pace, like not wanting the sensation to go away so fast.
“Fucking hell” he bit his lip, moaning. “You’re so tight, this is the most perfect pussy ever.”
You let out a cry once his thrusts became faster, rougher, skins crashing making an obscene sound as his cock disappeared inside of you, his eyes sticked to your face, not wanting to miss any of the expressions you were making, your beautiful, perfect face ruined by the pleasure. But he was no different, his jaw tight, his eyebrows frowned, hisses leaving his parted lips as he moaned and growled like an animal. The once perfectly made braid in your hair was now messy, a few strands sticked to your face, your eyes teary, your forehead full with sweat, your lips sore because of how much you were biting them.
One hand cupped your breast again, squeezing hard, as if he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, of your perfect body. And the other found your aching, swollen clit, messy circles at the pace of his thrusts, he rolled his hips harder into you, going so deep, you could feel him in every inch of your insides, the pleasure showering you, your brain completely shut down. You moaned high pitched, hiding your face in the curve of his neck, eyes closed as you saw stars.
“You like it?” he asked, a smirk in his lips, his cocky nature still in him, breathless, between thrusts “Tell me, please, need to hear you say it, princess.”
The nickname wasn’t sarcastic anymore, it was affection in it, worship, devotion.
And you whined against his skin, filling your lungs with his sweaty, manly smell, nodding, desperate, needy.
“Y-Yes. Please don’t stop.”
So using his incredible strength, he pulled out, but he made you put your feet on the ground, flipping you over so your chest was now against the wood of the counter, and he slid in again, grabbing your hips, bumping deeper thanks to the new position, head of his cock reaching your g-spot immediately, and you cried against the surface as tears rolled down your cheeks, ruining your mascara. His thighs crashed against your asscheeks, his movements now sloppier, erratic, he was really fucking you now.
But to be fair, you fucked him first, just in a different way.
He kissed down your back, everywhere, sucking too, wanting to mark every inch of your soft skin, and you arched your back, thrusting backwards meeting with his hips, nails scratching the wood beneath you.
This wasn’t just fucking. This was him discharging all of his frustration and anger in you, but not in bad way, in a i fucking trust you and worship you as a goddess way. And it was driving you crazy, you had the strongest man in camp moaning your name and mind-fucked and wanting to die inside of you.
Jake’s hand placed your braid over your shoulder, now kissing your neck again, whispering sweet words in your ear, voice wrecked and weak, crushed by his own moans and groans.
“You’re so perfect. I wanna worship you all my life. I want you to see me, to humiliate me again, i don’t care, i’d fight with you all the time just to keep your eyes on me.” He was mumbling, completely pussy drunk. But you were too, because he stretched you so good, because the warmth of his weigth was just too much, you sniffed through your nose, whining.
“J-Jake…” you moaned again, the knot on your lower belly starting to built. And he understood, because his fingers brushed your clit again, fast, rough. Your legs were trembling, your knees weak, the air so hot, you felt like you were about to pass out.
He grabbed your throat, not hard enough to choke, just to hold, to make you raise your head so he could kiss you again, dirty, sloppy, angry. His tongue explored your mouth once again, and his movements were completely erratic, senseless, he was close too. A few drops of his sweat soaked your face, combining with the saliva falling from the corner of your mouths. The way we kissed you, the way he touched you, the way he fucked you. Not only made you whimper because you were an Aprhodite girl, not only because it flattered you, but because it was him.
And you broke, body completely wrecked, back arched as you screamed so high pitched and came all around his cock, the orgasm taking you over, your pussy dripping, clenched tight around him, your heart racing, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He came too, because the look of your climax was just the peak of perfection in his eyes, and he didn’t hold himself back, guttural groan leaving his throat as his orgasm made him leak inside of you, warm, creamy fluids filling you up, thrusts becoming slower, weaker, his pulsing cock discharging all of his pleasure.
Neither of you spoke for a few seconds, he didn’t pull out, didn’t move, part because he couldn’t, part because he didn’t want to. You felt his lips on your cheek, sweet, slow, his breath making your skin jump. But you couldn’t move either, you didn’t feel like yourself, the whole room was spinning, your body felt like floating. You sighed deeply, trying to regain balance.
Then Jake finally pulled out, slow, and his cum dripped between your folds, and down your legs. His eyes sparkled, the view just so perfect for him to handle.
“Are you ok?” He asked softly, grabbing your waist so you’d stood up, his eyes were still lit up.
You cleaned the sweat of your face with your hands, trying but failing to fix your hair. Then you smiled, same sweetness as ever. Even after he literally fucked you.
“I think you broke me.” You joked, voice still weak, but your eyes were sparkling too, something new awakened inside of you, and him. Between you two.
Jake chuckled, still a bit breathless, but he started to pick up your clothes, shaking them because of course, you could never wear something dirty.
“Well, princess. Call that a rematch.”
And you rolled your eyes, pushing his chest surprisingly strong, he almost tripped. Then you both laughed.
He kissed you again. Sweet, soft, and you didn’t want him to stop. Ever again.
✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .
“How long are they gonna keep going with this?” Sunoo groaned, rolling his eyes and resting his head on your little sister’s shoulder, her smiling, amused by the scene in front of them.
The sun hung lazily over camp Halfblood’s training field, glints of sunlight off polished bronze blades. A few kids crowded at the edge of the ring, sitting on logs and leaning over the rails, whispering at each other.
“They’re still going.”
“Twenty minutes.” A Hermes camper confirmed, eyes locked on the fight. “And they haven’t stopped once.”
You stood across from Jake, your sword poised gracefully, a bead of sweat running down the side of your face, your stance was perfect, shoulders relaxed, chin lifted, eyes sharp.
Jake… was smiling.
“Tired, princess?” He asked, circling you slowly.
“You wish, hero.” you shot back, shifting your grip. “I could do this all day.”
“Yeah?” Jake twirled his sword lazily “You gonna keep staring at me or actually fight?”
“Hard to fight someone when they’re too busy admiring themselves”
Your sisters went oooh. And Jake smirked.
You rolled your eyes, but your smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Your blades met with a clash, steel, sparkling, footwork fluid and fast. But it wasn’t just training. You had a rythym now, a dance you both knew by heart. Teasing swipes, parried blows, a spin that brought you two almost chest to chest.
“You’re holding back.” Jake whispered low enough for only you to hear, breath brushing your cheek.
“So are you.” you whispered back, voice like silk. “What are you afraid of?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he lunged, and you spun. Your blades locked high, too high. One step, a slip. Your foot caught the edge of the sand pit, Jake reached out instinctively, grabbing your waist.
You fell.
Right onto the training mat, you landing on top of him with a surprised gasp, tangled up in his limbs and laughter.
Neither of you moved.
You hovered over him, bracing your hands on his chest, his heart pounding beneath your palms.
“You ok?” You asked softly.
“Perfect.” Jake breathed, but his eyes were fixated on your lips.
There was a beat, a long, electric pause. No teasing, no taunts. Just tension, want. Something warm and stupid and real blooming in his chest.
And then he leaned up, meeting you halfway.
The kiss was soft at first, just a brush of lips, like a secret shared in plain sight. But then it deepened, slow and certain.
Until you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Jake rested his forehead against yours.
“Still think we’re just sparring?” you murmured, teasing smile in your voice.
Jake grinned. “Definitely not.”
From the sidelines, Jay, one of his brothers shouted.
“Get a cabin!”
But Jake reached up, brushed a strand from your face, and smirked. Eyes sparkly, lost, completely in love.
“I told you i’d win.”
“I let you fall.” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Don’t get cocky.”
taglist
@gulicore @bussolares @vixialuvs @berryloveseunghan @lilifiedeans @m1kkso @usuallyunlikelyfox @jayjw16enxp @starfallia @bellsjakesgf @zuwishii @cutehoons02 @immelissaa @nyxtwixx @kayjiguki @emisluvr @k1ttyjwon
thank you so much for reading!! hope you enjoyed <3 it would help me a lot if you liked/repost but i’m happy knowing that someone even read this !!
heeseung’s drabble next !!
SAVING FOR LATER
