A/n;currently working on wlw nina fic, I was so disappointed that majority of the fics on here were kaz (I’ve read all of them too) but somebody gotta give my baby some love (3/13)
Jesper
Big baby > {Jesper gets sick and spends all day being salty about it}
Wesper x Reader
Best of both worlds> {In between missions wylan and jesper go out they happen to both be eyeing this woman they find perticularly intriguing}
rating none of my work is meant to be viewed by minors (anyone under the age of eighteen), and i will happily block any that interact with my posts or my blog.
content warning reader’s in an ick filled marriage, age gap between reader and her husband but everyone is 18+, smut, cucking, public play, facial
summary a pleasure seeker and a sharpshooter walk into a bar…
word count 4.2k / one shot
attention do not repost or translate, even with ‘credit’. just don’t do it. this was written in like 3 hours and wasn’t proofread, mistakes are pretty much guaranteed. reblog instead of like. leave feedback if you enjoyed.
you’d been hooked on the doorman as soon as you’d seen him, standing outside the oh-so talked about Crow Club. traveling with a gaggle of pleasure seekers, most of which were wealthy men— including your own husband—, it was, naturally, a sight to see whilst out for a night of debauchery; hidden under the guise of masks and the darkened, cloudy sky, as if the heavens themselves wished to unsee the trouble that is sure to be made tonight.
this doorman was the first you’d seen on the tour that had caught your attention for all the right reasons. posted at the entrance in a duster drawn back to expose two, deadly six guns, long legged and handsome— he appears a stallion among ordinary men, your wealthy company included. you’d been addicted to the musky scent of gunpowder, whiskey and the stench of the barrel that clung to his body and his clothes as you passed (perhaps a bit too close), and the way his brow quirked when he felt your warmth intermingle with his own; you’d felt the need to allow your willowy digits, donning jewels at a quality and price he could only imagine, to trace a button fastening his shirt tight against the expanse of his chest.
you were beguiling, there was no doubt, and you knew it. with your countenance obscured by the veil, dazzling with diamonds, you relied on body language. there was no mincing intentions, not with the devilish grin painted on ruby lips, or the swing of your hips as you sauntered over to the card table. although, you could feel many a pair of eyes upon you, there was one you cared about— one you wanted to watch you, the stallion. when you perch upon the rickety chair at your husband’s side, your eyes, filtered through the lacy veil, fall on the door, and the doorman himself. he had been watching; you can tell by the way his shoulder is pressed into the wall, one leg kicked in front of the other, hands resting on those guns. the smirk teasing his lips, and the way the warm lantern light from inside the club had his dark eyes dancing over you is plenty more reason to continue your game. you reach down, toying with a dangling, sparkling chain on your heel, glancing up to ensure he was watching, before your hand pushes the emerald satin of your skirt to reveal an ostentatious slit, and expose the flesh of your leg, decorated with dark lace matching that of your veil. the pads of your finger feel the material as you drag your hand up, slowly careening your knee. the slit in the skirt seems never ending, and you follow its lead, caressing your own thigh until you’re sitting upright again. your nails bite at the clip that holds the stocking in place at the hem, the clip that tethers it to the garter belt under your gown, and your tongue darts out to coat your lower tier in glossy saliva when it snaps free.
the sharpshooter hasn’t moved an inch, watching the display with the most wicked of intentions in those eyes, but you did notice the way his thumbs tapped against the pearl handles of his pistols, and you had to wonder if such an action was a demonstration of some forced restraint. you’d hoped so.
you were content to toy with this handsome stranger for the entirety of the night, or at least until your husband’s purse ran dry— which had a fair chance of happening sooner rather than later; the noble was arrogant and wealthy, but his addiction to the game had not gone unnoticed, and so he was granted a small allowance for nights such as these, that he was almost certain to lose. you didn’t care much to witness his money dwindling, unless you were the cause of it. making eyes at the stallion seemed a much more entertaining way to spend your night.
however, as soon as the first hand was down, the stallion made a move you hadn’t anticipated. he sauntered straight up to the table you sat out with a crooked smile, and pulled up a chair across from you, planting himself in it.
“Come to hand over your wages, doorman?” your husband sneered, and his followers all exchanged raspy laughs. you resist the urge to roll your eyes. your husband was full of bravado, but in reality, he had little to offer besides his deep pockets. at least twice your age with rotten teeth and a vile personality, you’d married him for all that glimmers in his possession. other than that? you couldn’t care less if they found his body in Fifth Harbor tomorrow morning. he was crass and boring to boot, and many a night instead of making love to him, you’d opted for an easy flick or two of your wrist— typically, that’s all it took before he was spent and snoring.
you were starved of excitement for far too long. the only reason you even agreed to tag along to seedy places like the Barrel with his crew was in hopes you might watch him be gutted in alleyway, or have a stranger press a blade to your neck and fuck you in the street.
in any case, he certainly was dull in comparison to the shiny, new stallion that gives a taunting shrug of his shoulders, flipping a coin between his fingers that clatters on the table in the pile of bets already crowding the center. “You lot want the authentic Barrel experience, do you? I’ll show you how to lose money with the rest of us.” leaning forward, his gaze lingers on you for a moment, before it drifts to your husband, and he flashes him a cocky wink. “You’ll buy me a fancy, new suit, moneybags.”
you watched the hustler drain his pockets as if it were a magic trick in the course of an embarrassingly quick hour or so. the more your husband lost, the more hellbent he seemed to become on winning, so the more reckless his bets became, until he had absolutely nothing left but the clothes on his back. you could only snort, eyeing the jewelry from his fingers now fitted on to the doorman’s.
“Well, well,” the doorman hums, leaning back with his hand face down on the table, “you’re all out of coin, sir. S’ppose that means you’re out of the game.”
“Not yet,” your husband snarled, and for a moment, you feared for your own jewelry. “I still have one more wager.”
the doorman howls, resting an elbow on the armrest. “As much as taking your fancy costume, I don’t think the boss would appreciate a patron sitting stark naked in his place. So, no—“
“A night with my wife. To do with her what you wish.” your husband blurted out, and both you and the handsome stranger blink in surprise. then, your spouse drags your chair closer to the table as if placing you on display for him, and the stranger’s eyes were fixed on you. “She’s plenty expensive, especially by the Barrel’s standards, I’m sure.” you seal your lips, tight, to avoid allowing an ounce of sarcastic acid to pass through them, though it wanted to.
the doorman’s eyebrow seems to be perpetually plastered to his forehead, skepticism keeping it high, and he leans forward again, fingers tapping against his cards on the table. he looks at your husband, and you can’t read his expression— he seems intrigued, yet offended at the same time. “It’s certainly a tempting offer, but I’m afraid that it wouldn’t be up to you.” he mumbles, finally, much to your husband’s dismay, “A marriage certificate isn’t the same as a deed of ownership; she doesn’t seem to be an indenture, so I’m not sorry to tell you that she’s not a breathing wager, unless she wants to be.” and then he turns to you, again, his smile wide and toothy, and contagious. you knew that he knew you would be willing. “Sweetheart, what would you say to that? After I win, I take you somewhere nice and quiet and show you a time so good, the likes of which I doubt you’ve ever had before?”
now, he’s laid it out for you. all you had to do would be to say yes. you could tell by the way your husband grinds his teeth, the idea gnaws at him. he’s always been obnoxiously possessive over your body, insisting control over it, and the way this charming stranger seemed intent on giving you a choice was probably sickening to him. you take a moment, unable to resist, and reach up to push the veil back, revealing to him your face for the first time. his reaction was more than flattering— the way his eyes twinkled and the corner of his smile twitched, as if he was momentarily caught off guard by your beauty. “No,” you answer, leaning close, too. your eyes lock on to his, “If you win, I’ll ride you. Right here, in front of everyone.”
everyone at the table seems to be taken aback by your counter offer, including your fuming husband, who grabs your arm, hard. when your brows furrowed, you catch sight of the doorman’s features tighten, hand falling to one of the guns on his hip. you were grateful he didn’t seem to tolerate any mishandling of his potential prize. your husband eases his grip; he must’ve seen it, too. the stranger looks to you, and then to him, and scoffs in amusement, his grin returning. “You’ve got yourself one more game, sir.”
your husband was miffed, clearly regretting spouting off, but he releases you and picks up his hand again. meanwhile, you stare at the stranger. your eyes command one simple thing of him.
don’t. lose.
a quarter into the game, you could tell it was over. your husband was heated, and making stupid decisions. taking silly risks. he was so damned determine to win, that he couldn’t see that he’s already lost. it was actually quite amusing, to watch him sweat. each bluff brought your chair closer to the stranger, until you were side by side with him, and you peeked over his shoulder. he let you, expressionless so as not to give anything away to the other players, but you want to laugh as soon as you see it. his hand is awful. and yet? he has them all riled. confused.
you look down to his lap to keep your reaction from giving anything away, and you place your palm upon it, rubbing slow circles. your fingers edge closer to one of the guns, and he chuckles, husky, without taking his eyes off the table. two players had already folded. your husband, him, and one other remains. “Careful ‘round the hardware, love,” he warns, “they’re expensive.”
“So am I.” you counter with a sly smile, but your hand makes a sharp turn at his belt and dives down to feel the bulge pressed to the side of his thigh. “What’s wrong, do I not look the type to know how to use a gun?”
he muffles a grunt, his eyes darting to you, and his teeth sink into his lower lip, pulling at the flesh. you were jealous of them, wishing you could do the same. “Oh no, I’d bet you know your way around the trigger, and that’s what’s concerning.” he was right, and you told him so, in less words and more of a simple flutter of your lashes. the protrusion is hardening by the second as you palm it, and the other man tosses in the towel. just he and your husband, who is seething as he watches, left in the game. “The game isn’t over yet,” he teases, but shifts in his chair to grind his hips into your massage, “are you truly so excited that you can’t wait a minute longer?”
it’s your time to chortle, now, leaning close to his ear, you moan into it, “I don’t bounce on soft cocks. As flattering as it is to imagine my visage, or my smell, being enough to have you popping the button on your trousers, I’m neither naïve nor am I willingly ignorant.” you listen to the whir of his zipper as you tug it down to reach in and retrieve the prize inside, wrapping your fingers around it with a firm grip until he hums in satisfaction, “You bed beautiful people often.” the weight of him pleasing your fist, the shape when pulled through and laying against his torso on the cream of his button down a sight to behold, you knew he must. any man with a cock that beautiful had better be sharing his blessing. “So, I’m simply making sure you’re not going to disappoint me.”
“You must be used to that.” you glance to your spouse, who is red in the face, so pissed you can almost see steam coming out of his ears. “Being disappointed.”
“You’ve no idea.”
the stranger’s eyes are focused on the man across the table, but he can’t stop himself from grinning, as if already victorious. the change in demeanor must’ve done him in, because your husband tosses his cards down with a huff and a curse. “I’m out.”
you’re giddy with excitement, warming your cheeks and pooling between your thighs equal, and you watch the stranger reveal his hand, and your husband’s heart sink to his stomach. he had thrown away a winning hand, thinking the doorman had some trick up his sleeve.
“It’s been a pleasure,” the doorman chuckles, pressing his feet into the dusty floor and pushing his chair back. he leans into the backrest, and his eyes flow to where you sit, stroking him slow. he was rock solid and warm in your hand, but you didn’t want to let go. if you could’ve made a living jerking him off, you would have. “But I do believe that’s the game. Gorgeous?” he reaches down to gently pry your hand from him, replacing it with his own. “The name’s Jesper. Just so you know what to moan for me. Come, now. Hop in the saddle.”
he didn’t have to tell you twice, because you all but leap out of your own seat, the chair rocking on wooden legs, and you grab fistfuls of emerald velvet, bunching the skirt up until you have enough freedom to kick one leg over his lap. you considered facing the table, and forcing your husband to watch how your expression contorts when you take Jesper’s size, significantly larger than he, but you can’t help but want to litter this stallion with love bites. digging your knees into the sides of his thighs, you hover above his lap long enough to reach up and pluck the gaudy tiara from your head. crested with black diamonds, you toss it in the center of the table, staring into Jesper’s eyes. “Play again.” you ask in a whisper.
“Are you sure?” Jesper watches you, intrigued but puzzled, his palm on his base to keep himself steady so you can lower your weight on him whenever you’re ready.
you nod, gripping the collar of his duster and sink down. he inhales, thick, and you moan when he fills you. “Yes,” you purr, half in response to his question and half in pleasure. it’d been a long time since a man felt so good inside you. your walls welcome him with spastic clenching until he’s no choice but to grip your hip with one hand, nodding to the dealer who starts shuffling. “I want to cum, impaled on your cock, when you humiliate him one last time,” you whisper in his ear, tracing the shell with your tongue, “win for me, Jesper.”
“Saints, you’re devilish.” Jesper groans, but the simper he wears tells you he likes it.
you mirror his smile, but yours is a tad more flustered; taking him was a task, but you were up for the challenge. your palms rest atop the plains of his shoulders, your hips in slow oscillation as you give yourself time to adjust to how tight a fit he is. meanwhile, Jesper has reached one arm around you, keeping one hand gripping your hip, the other retrieving his hand for the game. his palm on the flare of your curve presses down at the same time his hips jut upwards, encouraging you to take another inch or two of him, and you mewl in delight.
you were eager to know what it felt like to have every inch of his cock buried deep in your core, but you didn’t want to rush. the way he pulsates inside you, keeping you dilated, was much too delicious an ache to hurry. “Fuck,” you hiss through your teeth, tightening around him at the halfway point, “fuck, you feel good, Jesper!” you rock your hips, jouncing on him to feel yourself nearly push him out; his swollen tip threatening to pop free before you come plummeting down, relishing in the force at which he barrels through your canal. you throw your head back, moaning his name to the ceiling.
“Keep my name on your tongue. I fucking love the way it sounds, all needy. Precious.” Jesper is having a harder time focusing on the game, with his face twisted in pleasure, his grip on you slips to cradle the small of your back instead, chest heaving when you take him back into your warmth, the grip too tight not to grunt at. he wants to smirk at your husband, maybe utter some remark to push his luck, but he can’t form the words that aren’t expletives under heavy breath. “Take it, love— come on, pretty girl, I know you want it all. Take me.” he practically pleads, wild eyed but playing another card, he nods when you accept another inch, moaning in unison with you, “th—that’s it. Just… like that…” the firearms jangle in their holsters at his hips as you ride him, grasping the nape of his neck with both hands and grinding yourself into the cool metal of his belt buckle until you’re whimpering and needy. he pants, flashing a breathless grin at the man across the table, “She’s a firecracker, this one.” but the man is shocked and grimacing, as if he’s never seen you so lustful in his life. and he hasn’t. and Jesper can tell, which only fuels his ego. feeling like a god, the sharpshooter plants his feet firm into the floor and drives himself up into your grinding, sending you into a tizzy of squealing and babbling pleases and thank yous. “Makes me wonder if you’ve never cared enough to make sure she’s properly taken care of, fucking hell,” he gets sidetracked by just how good you feel, teeth grinding and brows knitting together, “or you simply can’t please her? Tell me, friend, ‘ve you ever heard her so fucking happy as she is bouncing on a stranger’s cock?”
you shake your head, answering for him, digging your nails into Jesper’s scalp and pulling at his hair, “He can’t!” you exclaim, “He can’t please me, n—not like you are, Jesper, Saints, fuck me!”
“Shhh, shh..”Jesper purrs, too, hand gliding over your back and up to your head to press it towards him, burying your face in his neck. that doesn’t stop your fervent rutting, desperate to relieve the pressure building in your guts. “Mmm, I know, pretty girl. I can fucking feel how bad you need this— but let’s occupy that mouth of yours before the big boss comes and ruins all your fun, yeah?” you’re already biting and sucking on every section of the warm flesh of his neck you can find, moaning muffled into it, when he uses that one good hand to press against your lower belly, feeling just how full of him you were. a couple of lazy circles, and he has you hugging yourself close to him, trembling. you reach down with a shaky hand to grip his wrist, your breath quivering, but you don’t really want him to stop. you just need to hold on to him, to ground yourself. you’re twitchy at his touch, flinching when he rubs against the bulge in your belly in the shape of him. “Sensitive little thing, you’re so fun,” he groans, “so fucking pent up that sweet cunt is aching, yeah? You want to cum bad?” you nod, eager, your toes curling in your shoes, your back arching.
you can tell he’s snickering at what must’ve been your husband’s surrender in the game, or perhaps a shameful expression he wore as he watches you fuck the stallion until you’re melting into him, marking him with your teeth and clenching around him until his chest is heaving right along with yours, his breathing ragged, and he’s twitching inside you. but, you don’t care what your husband looks like right now. you were lost to the world, far from the Crow Club, floating above Fifth Harbor in euphoric bliss.
“Take it out on me, then, sweetheart,” you feel Jesper’s other hand now, free to caress you as he pleases. one grasps the back of your neck and the other reaches between you and him, fingers teasing your neglected, swollen clit. you feel like the room is spinning. “Give me all you got, I got you. Cum for me, love.” he sounds hurried, and he’s throbbing as deep into you as he can go; you imagine he’s right on the cusp, and the thought alone pushes you over your edge.
you never expected the pinnacle of ecstasy to find you here, in a gambling club in the Barrel, and yet you come entirely undone. you’re encouraged by Jesper breathing heavy in your ear now, gripping your nape as he pumps himself upwards, taking you on a reckless ride through an orgasm so intense you see stars behind your lids. gripped by waves of aftershock, your mouth hangs open so weak moans drip from your tiers like warmed honey.
“I’m so close, gonna cum.”
you can tell he’s only a second or two from exploding, and that’s all you need. you slide, sore, from his lap and into the floor between his feet. “Wherever you want.” you urge, shuddering at the horrid emptiness you feel without his cock to keep you full.
Jesper scoffs, but doesn’t question it, one hand burying itself in your hair instead, gripping it as he sits up straighter, using his other hand to pump himself furiously. “Open up, gorgeous,” he begs, gripping your tendrils at your scalp. his lids flutter, and he nods when you open your mouth, your tongue hanging out lazily, “yes, fuck, perfect.” you’re impatient, staring at him, much too excited to taste him that you flinch when he finally releases, and the sticky essence paints a stripe across your top lip and your cheek, dripping on to your tongue. you coo, and that only seems to spur another streamers this time directly on to your tongue. and another, this time closer to your eyes, so you squint to avoid being blinded, but when you look up at him, Jesper is shuddering, moaning, staring down at you in awe with his mouth agape. he’s heavenly to watch, you decide, and only smack at your sticky lips when you’re certain he’s finished with his masterpiece, because he falls back with an exhale against the back of the chair.
after a few moments, he’s grinning again, chest rising and falling heavily. “You’re prettier this way,” he murmurs, reaching for the tiara on the table, and placing it on your head. it’s a bit careless, and you can feel how askew it is, so you can only imagine the mess you are. “There we go.” Jesper tucks himself back into his trousers and fastens them, and you have yet to move from his feet, still. you hug his leg; you don’t want to have to get back in your seat, sit next to your foul husband, and pretend like this man didn’t just give you the fuck of your life.
as luck would have it, your husband didn’t seem to want it, either. he’s gathered his belongings (the few that he has left), and was now standing by the table with his company. “Find your own way home.” he grumbles, humiliated, before he stomps from the club, purposefully avoiding looking at the mess Jesper has made of you, and the way his fingers comb through your hair softly.
you should’ve been intimidated by this— being left in the Barrel, but the way Jesper pets at you has you utterly calm. you practically nuzzle into it, and he hums, thoughtful, when they’re out of ear shot. “I’m convinced that must be the most dreadful man I have ever met.” an abysmal gaze on you, he tilts his head to the side and beams, “Let’s see if we can’t find a way to liberate you from your marriage contract, eh?”
“I didn’t marry him for his personality,” you reply, a bit dazed, but otherwise coherent. you give a careless shrug. “He deals in jewels.”
“Lovely,” the sharpshooter grins wider, brow arching, “We might just liberate some of those, as well.”
{In between missions wylan and jesper go out they happen to both be eyeing this woman they find perticularly intriguing}
Warnings; a tinnyyyy bit suggestive, sex mentioned (no smut), y/n is used once
Jesper and Wylan decided to bar hop. Given their freedom for the day, it seemed like the perfect time to spend go out together rather than anticipating the next mission. They find a seat at the bar and people watch for some time. You however, caught their attention. They spent the next 20 minutes talking about you, trying to read what you were thinking. Until Wylan became uneasy,
"No I don't like this it makes me feel like a gross man not a respectable one" he shakes his head and shifts his weight back on his barstool.
"You worry far too much about what people think. Whats really creepy is us staring..."
"I wonder why shes alone in a bar like this, now that I think about it its starting to get dark out" as the sun began to set the bar swarmed with is usual crowd of men.
“I'll get her over here I think she'd be safer. I think I still got some smooth talk left in me.” Jesper tilts his head down slightly and gives a mischievous smile. Wylan sighs and turns to face the bar.
“That sounds like you're going to kidnap her. Actually, IM quite good at impressing people myself.” He catches a glance at you before turning his head back to Jesper.
“I bet you are mr i can play the flute and piano and mix chemicals and-“
“I get it Jes... but seriously let me have a try at it”
“Fine. Don’t blow it for us though ” he used his fingers to motion ’im watching you’ as Wylan makes his way to your table, he approaches you with a smile on his face. You set your drink down and look him up and down.
“Who are you?”
“Im Wylan” he holds his hand out for you to rest yours upon, then gently kisses your hand while holding eye contact
“Are you always like this?” He laughs and grabs the chair next to you
“may i?” You kick the chair out from under the table and motion for him to sit. From across the bar Jesper is watching carefully trying to read lips, he turns to the bartender and asks
“Does she look like shes uncomfortable or undressing him with her eyes?” The bartender shrugged at him. You took in wylans features trying not to give an intense look as he spoke.
“Actually I’m not always like this, I don’t really like going up to people but how could I catch a glance at you and not want to know you” his hair bounced subtly as he spoke. He seemed eager yet anxious at the same time, it was hard to tell whether he was lying or not to get in your pants. His tone remained gentle and clear, but he struggled with eye contact during his introduction.
“Well, wylan, I appreciate you coming over. Do you know how pathetic it is to sit in here alone all evening. I was hoping someone would notice me, its been a rough day. I'm y/n by the way” you noticed his eyes glistening while you spoke, he listened with such intent to your every word. To him, your voice was like sweets, he felt entranced by it and never wanted you to stop talking to him, The same way he adored Jesper and his constant remarks. He needed your company. His eyes were so distracting you almost didn’t notice jesper approaching your table. He became impatient at the bar and decided he should intervene. Though he did trust Wylan, he’s not necessarily a womanizer. Realizing you were done talking and he had been staring, Wylans eyes widened before he responded
“I actually only hang out here when my boyfriend is here, speaking of…” Jesper leaned his weight on one side, his hand on his hip. You look back and forth between the two. Your heart is pounding overwhelmed by the fact two attractive men are in close proximity. Jesper clicked his teeth twice and winked at you in a joking manner, it was rare he found himself nervous but seeing you up close only made him more flustered.
“Ooo someones got caught” you whisper to wylan, loud enough for jesper to hear. Your heart is racing, you feel guilty letting yourself fawn over someone's partner.
“Actually I sent him over here, can’t let him take all the credit of course” you nervously laughed taking another big gulp of your drink from earlier.
“Well since I’m standing, let me get you another one love” he takes your glass and rushes back to the bartender
“She wasn’t being harassed she actually looks quite flustered, its working! Oh and refill this please, im not entirely sure what it was but just fill it i need to get back”
Meanwhile you had lots more questions for wylan
“Did he actually send you over? Is this some sick game? You know if you wanted someone to play with theres brothels for that. Coming over to butter you up to be a toy for the night.” wylan’s gaze softens and he leans forward towards you, elbows on his knees. He has a slight panic in his eyes watching you unravel everything in front of him. he wanted to take your hands but had learned the hard way that not everyone responds well to strangers grabbing them.
“Listen I understand and I am really sorry but I did not come to you for any other reason than your beauty and your charm. We’ve been paying you a bit of extra attention since you walked in and from what we can tell you're independent, gorgeous, and have been kind to everyone you’ve interacted with. I'm sure Jesper could say the same but I truly want to know you. We have some lore I think you'd find rather charming as well if you give us the chance. I promise this isn't a game or a test or a hookup. I am far past those days, I like things that are real and not temporary whether it's a friendship or something more intimate.” You leaned in same as he did so your faces are about an inch apart,
“I find it hard to believe that two beautiful men, already in a relationship, have a common interest in me besides sex. I came here because I felt I had nobody, but something in my brain said hey if you put out, the world will give. And here you come giving me everything a girl could dream. I don't want temporary people either. Especially if i'm some sort of experiment...” As if prompted, Jesper appeared back at the table, you both turned your heads to look up at him and he smirked at the image it put in his head. You sat up and faced Jesper. “...See, I can practically read your thoughts.” Wylan also turned to Jesper with pleading eyes, begging him to not mess this up.
"Thats a lot coming from you, I can tell you're thinking the same thing. You know maybe we could be your experiment." Wylan rolls his eyes and starts getting up ready to accept defeat. You zone out for a moment considering your response.
"Would it make me a harlot if I didn't hate the idea?" You tilted your head slightly with puppy dog eyes looking up at Jesper. You'd never considered being in this exact situation, who are you to shut them out when he was right, it could go both ways. And as much as you wanted to stomp out of the bar upset with them you couldn't help but find yourself imagining what they're like outside of this setting, what are their hobbies, what they do for work, who their friends are, their dynamic with each other. You wanted to be apart of it.
“What? The idea of your boyfriends being boyfriends? You say the word and were yours” you look back and forth between them, Wylan's holding Jesper's hand to ease his nerves. While Jesper smiles down at you, eyebrows raised waiting for a response
“Sure" you hold your hand out and Jesper helps you out your seat.
A/n; Throuple content as promised, might be a mini series if y'all like it! I’m working on my characterization & again I’m new to writing grishaverse so spare me pls. also catch that hadestown reference :3
{Jesper gets sick and spends all day being salty about it}
Genre; fluff, a little silly
Warnings; none
Jesper didn't get sick often, but there was definitely something going around and he made it your problem very quickly.
"Could you get a bucket of ice for me" he calls out as you pass by his room, loud dry coughs follow.
"Now why would I do that, I just came from downstairs do I look like an olympian to you?" You push the door open more to find him sprawled out on the bed like a star fish. You give him a judging look as you notice the damp sheets beneath him.
“Ew, are you sick?" He turns and gives you a weak smile.
"Sickness is a mindset, get me the ice so I can ice it out" you approach him with caution, holding your arm out. When you're close enough he swats your hand.
"See now you're just trying to be funny eh? When I can't get out of bed tomorrow I'll tell Kaz you wanted to watch me suffer" your jaw drops sarcastically at his comment. You turn and walk out the room, Jesper faintly still speaking to you, you go to your room and grab a cloth and jar of honey. When you open his door he continues his speech.
"So while you were gone actually I started thinking, If I have no appetite what so ever how come every time I'm sick I'll think about what I want to eat when I'm not sick anymore? You'd think if-" you cut him off by throwing the cloth on his face
"Now that wasn't very nice was it" you sat on his bed with the little space he had left.
"Jesper my love, do you remember why I even live here with you guys even though I'm not necessarily a crow" he looked off into the distance before responding
"I told Kaz to keep you around, you get me." You feel your face get hot, Jesper smirks at you. Even sick and sweaty he still has his charm.
"Well that is certainly not what he told me... but I'm a healer, let me heal you its what I'm meant to do" his eyes widened
"See maybe I would have remembered that if I wasn't distracted by your beautiful face" you let out a small laugh and hold your hands to Jesper's head, he closes his eyes.
"I'm only half healing you because you threatened me though, heres honey for your throat . Maybe that will stop you from talking so much." He sits up and sighs.
A/n; I'm still getting used to writing in the grishaverse so bare with me, constructive criticism is very welcome. Love yall thank you for reading.<3
