pairing: jake seresin x f!reader
summary: jake wants to put the mirror in your room to good use.
cw: mirror sex, softdom!jake, petnames (baby, sweetheart), unprotected p in v, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, jake is taller than reader, slight edging, doggy
words: 3k
a/n: i am so far behind my kinktober schedule, but im hoping to catch up over the weekend somehow!
masterlist | kinktober 2025
You had been looking forward to this vacation for months. Jake had been granted leave for two weeks after being deployed on a carrier for half a year and you had deemed it the perfect opportunity to get out of the country for a little while. He had given you free rein when it came to where you two would be headed, so you had chosen Paris.
The city of love – more than fitting for the kind of vacation you wanted to have.
When your cab stopped in front of the hotel, Jake leaned over to you. His voice had gone down to a whisper, but you’d recognise that mischievous smirk anywhere. Even before the words had left his lips, you knew what he was going to say.
Jake’s hand found your thigh, giving the soft flesh a gentle squeeze. Your breath caught in your throat, excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach. With Jake stationed on a carrier for so long, your bedroom had felt cold and empty at night. This wasn’t your first time having to be without Jake for a longer period of time, but it never got easier. His warm touch, his breath brushing past your ear, would always linger in the back of your mind. You couldn’t wait to have it back, to have him with you again.
“We still got two hours until dinner,” he whispered into your ear, before he opened the door to his side and got out of the car.
A few words were enough to have you brimming with anticipation. You would still have to check into the hotel, get your room key and then bring your suitcases up to the room, but you knew that you’d postpone unpacking until later tonight. Perhaps even tomorrow.
Jake carried the heavier bags into the hotel while you headed to the reception with a backpack in tow, a smile already on your face with the unspoken promise up in the air.
How long until your clothes would meet the floor once you stepped into your room? How many times could Jake make you come before you’d have to get ready for dinner? Was this expensive hotel really worth it if you didn’t get to try out the bed immediately?
As expected, your luggage was quickly discarded into the corner of the room as soon as the door closed behind you. Jake’s hands found your hips, a magnetic pull in the air and months’ worth of desperation drawing you together. His nose nuzzled into your neck as he dropped his head, placing feather-like kisses on your skin.
“Missed you,” he murmured, a shiver running through you in response. You had missed him too. His presence as a whole, but you had been deprived of pleasure for far too long as well. His scruff scraped against your neck, coaxing a gasp from you as he pulled you even closer. Hands finding his hard chest, he turned you both around.
Jake’s left thumb moved to your chin, tilting it up to meet your gaze as he leaned in to kiss you. It was gentle at first, a quick peck as he began to guide you backwards. His hands dropped to your ass, giving it a squeeze before your knees hit the edge of the bed. Jake followed you, hovering above you while his lips searched for yours. He deepened the kiss this time, tongue sliding over your bottom lip.
Your left hand moved into his hair, earning a hum of approval from Jake in return. His tongue danced around yours while his left hand slid under your shirt with ease, body arching to meet his touch. Heat began to pool between your legs, the need to pull Jake even closer and free him of the T-Shirt he was wearing more overwhelming by the second.
When Jake pulled away to take off your shoes, you took in the room for the first time. Your gaze moved off to the side, to the end of the bed, and your reflection was staring right back at you. A big, almost floor to ceiling mirror adorned the wall opposite your bed. That had not been advertised when you had booked the room, but you weren’t going to complain.
Jake seemed to have the same idea as his gaze followed yours. A mischievous glint in his eyes, he helped you out of your shoes and kicked off his own.
“Looks like you booked the perfect room, sweetheart,” he remarked, lips curved into a smirk. “Scoot over. Let’s take a look.” A rasp laced itself through his voice and it made anticipation settle deeper into your gut.
Would he touch you in front of the mirror tonight?
You moved over to the other end of the bed, sitting in front of the mirror. Jake settled down beside you, taking a moment to assess the view the mirror would give you both, but his mind seemed to be settled. You met his gaze through the reflection, his eyes glazed over with desire, before he turned his head to kiss your neck again.
A sigh escaped your lips, fingers finding his hair once more while his lips began a journey from your jaw all the way down to your collarbone. Closing your eyes as your entire body began to feel alight with *need*, you moved your thighs closer together to get a little bit of relief while Jake was exploring your body with his lips. You had a feeling he was going to take his time tonight, savouring every inch of you he could get his hands on.
Heart pounding against your chest, your eyes snapped open when Jake took your chin between his fingers, turning your head to face him. His pupils were blown wide and the green in his eyes looked tinted with desperation even though the smirk had vanished from his lips.
“Look at the mirror. Don’t close your eyes. Don’t look away.” His tone had shifted to resemble a command more than a suggestion and it stirred the fire in your belly. You gave him a small nod, barely perceptible, before your gaze returned to the mirror.
Jake pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side and you wanted to turn your head again to run your fingers up and down on his abs. Instead, you were forced to watch as his hands returned to your body. Your eyes dropped to his biceps, flexing as he pulled you closer. Jake’s teeth grazed your shoulder for a brief moment, before his hands wandered to the hem of your shirt.
Your arms went into the air when he pulled the hem up, the smirk returning to his lips.
“Get undressed for me, baby,” he whispered, another kiss being placed on your cheek. “Take your time.”
Jake’s eyes never left your body as you began to undress yourself in front of the mirror. Your gaze met his when you opened the button of your pants, pushing them down your legs. Slowly. Deliberately. You watched his gaze follow your hands every inch until your pants were pooled around your feet and you stepped out of them.
Reaching back, you unclasped your bra. Jake’s eyes settled on your breasts, his gaze darkening while he opened the button of his pants. His smirk on his lips remained, but he didn’t take his eyes off you as he pushed his own jeans down his legs. You almost turned around to help him, to move your hand over the visible tent in his boxers, but you knew better.
Fingers hooked into the sides of your panties, you were ready to slide them down your legs as well, but Jake’s hand on your butt stopped you. Watching him through the mirror, you saw him shake his head.
“Let me,” he insisted, getting up from the bed and coming to stand behind you. His chin dropped to your shoulder again as his arms snaked around you, pulling you flush against his hard chest. More kisses were placed along your neck and you watched as his hands travelled lower and lower. Heat pooled between your legs at the sight, wrapped up in his arms with his big hand travelling over your stomach until he reached where you needed him most.
He cupped your core with his hand, eyes meeting yours in the mirror as a gasp tore from your throat. Jake could feel the wetness seep through the thin lace of your panties – a clear sign this was turning you on too. He couldn’t wait to see you come apart on his cock, all while watching yourself in the mirror.
You were always the prettiest sight when you came and he wanted you to see that too.
“So wet already,” he remarked.
Jake’s fingers slid to either side of your hips, sliding the panties down your legs. He took a step back while his hands stayed on your hips. You watched him move back until he dropped onto the edge of the bed, pulling you with him to sit on his lap. Strong thighs beneath yours, your eyes remained fixated on the sight in front of you.
The mirror allowed you to see Jake’s smirk as his hands gripped your thighs, draping them over his legs. Your gaze dropped down and you had the perfect view of your folds, glistening with arousal. Jake’s eyes were directed towards it as well, a hungriness lingering behind that teasing smile.
“Stay like this,” he told you, his left hand remaining on your hip to keep you in place while his right hand began to travel over your thigh. It left goosebumps in its wake, sliding between your legs until he reached where all your heat had gathered. His fingers slid through your folds, a shiver coursing through you.
He chuckled against your neck, relishing in your body’s response. He wanted to see more of it. Make you crumble right here, in front of the mirror, so you could watch it happen.
Two fingers found their way to your clit, your hips jolting up in response.
“Uh, oh… stay still,” Jake instructed you, another soft kiss being pressed against your neck. His fingers began to move in circles, a moan tearing from your throat. His touch was slow. Calculated. You kept your eyes on the mirror and the image of you two.
You looked small in Jake’s lap, his biceps flexing every time he completed a circle around your clit. Your head rested against his shoulder as you felt the tension coil in your abdomen, building and building with every new stroke. Jake’s fingers sped up a little, your moans echoing off the walls and you could see him smirk behind you.
It was a filthy sight. Jake had you on display for yourself, his left arm curling around you to hold you a little tighter against his chest. You loved the feeling of his hard muscles against your back. There was no feeling like it – being at his mercy but also feeling so safe at the same time.
“Fuck,” you cursed, hands gripping his thighs as you felt your orgasm approach. A few more strokes and you’d be right there, falling over the cliff and letting the pleasure take over your body.
Jake’s fingers disappeared again. You watched him grin at you with no regret at all, his smugness making you squirm on top of him. You had been so close. Why did he have to deny you this?
“Get on the bed, baby. Hands and knees,” he whispered into your ear, big hands sliding to your back to guide you back onto your feet. Your legs were trembling, but you waited until Jake got up to climb onto the bed.
Positioning yourself on your hands and knees, you faced the mirror again. Your view was blocked by Jake in front of you, but you still got to watch as he pushed his boxers down his legs and stepped out of them. He was hard, dick flushed an angry red and pre-cum gathering at his tip. Clenching your legs together, you looked up at Jake with impatient eyes, but he was more than happy to give you both some relief.
Climbing onto the bed behind you, Jake’s hands found their way back to your hips. He bent down to press a few kisses along your spine, a soft sigh falling from your lips. His touch was always warm, gentle, even when you knew that he would not necessarily stick with that as soon as he would fill you out.
You kept your eyes on your reflection while you felt his tip glide through your folds. Another whimper tore from your throat, hips pushing back against him. It rewarded you with a groan from Jake, before he used his right hand to keep you still. You watched as his eyes raked over your body again in the mirror, tits on display. His hands reached around you to give them a squeeze, coaxing another whimper out of you.
“Jake–” You started, the desperation inside you becoming unbearable. Your core felt empty while your body was ready for its release.
“Alright, baby. M’not going to make you wait any longer,” he drawled, a low chuckle following.
Jake gave his cock a single tug, before he moved closer to you, aligning himself with your entrance. As always, he took his time as he pushed in slowly. With all the patience in the world.
He started to fill you inch by inch and you watched as your mouth fell open, fingers curling around the sheets beneath you. Jake pushed into you further until he bottomed out, head tipping back when he felt your warmth all around him. You were squeezing him so well. He had missed that feeling while you had been apart for months.
Tonight would be all about catching up. Making up for lost time.
“Look at you, baby. Takin’ me so well,” he grinned, meeting your gaze in the mirror once more. He rocked his hips against you gently, your whimpers like music in his ears. Jake liked to savour the feeling of your tight walls around him for a few moments before he’d help you fall apart. His hands travelled over your sides and up to your back, a gentle caress, laced with love.
“I love you, sweetheart.” His voice was a whisper as he leaned down to press another kiss to your spine. You felt his hands move back to your sides, his cock hitting that soft spot inside you as he rolled his hips against yours again.
It made your legs tremble and you felt all your muscles tense up pleasure. Jake filled you to the brim, the tension in your abdomen growing – all while you could see yourself whimper in response to everything he did.
And then he started thrusting into you. Gently, at first. Lips parting, you kept your gaze directed forward, a moan escaping you at the sight of his toned body behind your own. His mouth was slightly agape too, eyes trailing from the mirror to the sight in front of him, where your bodies were joined together, cock covered in your arousal.
Another curse fell from your lips when he picked up his pace, his thrusts deep and always hitting that sweet spot inside you. Your moans grew louder and Jake’s grip on your hips tightened.
“Fuck, look at you. You’re beautiful like this,” he breathed out, following up his words with another sharp thrust that had you gasping. He was right. Your pupils were wide with lust, your breasts swinging back and forth with every new thrust, a thin layer of sweat building on your forehead. You could see your thighs quiver and watch every new moan form on your lips, before it resounded in the room.
Jake’s thrusts grew faster, less controlled. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed around you and you had a hard time keeping yourself upright. Your climax was fast approaching, every thrust pushing you a little closer, while your entire body began to tense up. Moans turned into desperate whimpers, arms eventually giving out underneath you.
You still watched in the mirror as Jake’s hand found the back of your head, pushing you to lie down with your ass up in the air. It was a subtle shift in angle, but it was exactly what you needed.
“J-Jake,” you mumbled, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you. Again and again. Your thighs began to shake and you knew your high was in reach. Jake smirked at you, his thrusts growing messy. Sloppy.
“Come for me, baby. Let go,” he encouraged you.
It was all you needed to hear.
He sent you over the edge with another sharp thrust, the tension inside you reaching its peak. Waves of pleasure started to ripple through you, walls fluttering around Jake’s cock. His name fell from your lips a couple more times as you watched your body shiver in the reflection, rocked back and forth by Jake’s thrusts and the intensity of your own climax.
Jake let out low moan, his head tipping back again as he kept thrusting into you. You watched the muscles in his abdomen flex, your name sounding somewhere between a moan and words you couldn’t make sense of. Another deep thrusts and his hips came to a halt as his high washed over him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his cock twitching inside you. Warmth filled your core as he filled you with his release and you let out another whimper as you watched Jake briefly close his eyes. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he tried to catch his breath. When he looked at you again, a new smile formed on his face.
You watched in the mirror as Jake leaned down again, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.
a/n: pictures above are aesthetics only. all stories will be afab!reader.
i hope you will enjoy this kinktober and i am truly trying to challenge myself to write every day!! if i don't manage to finish a story before the day's over, you might get two on the same day hahah.
kinks are subject to change if i struggle with completing a story.
warnings: pure smut, see individual stories for more detailed content warnings.
masterlist | ask
⋆˚࿔ day one: mirror sex | jake seresin
⋆˚࿔ day two: thigh riding | bob floyd
⋆˚࿔ day three: "just the tip" | bob reynolds
⋆˚࿔ day four: bondage | peter parker
⋆˚࿔ day five: somno | bradley bradshaw
⋆˚࿔ day six: pussydrunk | joaquin torres
⋆˚࿔ day seven: first time | bob floyd
⋆˚࿔ day eight: cockwarming | bob reynolds
⋆˚࿔ day nine: (semi-)public sex | bradley bradshaw
⋆˚࿔ day ten: orgasm control | jake seresin
⋆˚࿔ day eleven: breeding | bob floyd
⋆˚࿔ day twelve: shower sex | peter parker
⋆˚࿔ day thirteen: voyeurism | bradley bradshaw
⋆˚࿔ day fourteen: free use | bob reynolds
⋆˚࿔ day fifteen: threesome | jake seresin & bradley bradshaw
⋆˚࿔ day sixteen: overstimulation | bob floyd
⋆˚࿔ day seventeen: abs riding | bob reynolds
⋆˚࿔ day eighteen: sex tape | bradley bradshaw
⋆˚࿔ day nineteen: roleplay | bob floyd
⋆˚࿔ day twenty: degradation | jake seresin
⋆˚࿔ day twenty-one: car sex | peter parker
⋆˚࿔ day twenty-two: hate sex | jake seresin
⋆˚࿔ day twenty-three: size kink | bradley bradshaw
⋆˚࿔ day twenty-four: brat timing | bradley bradshaw
⋆˚࿔ day twenty-five: praise kink | bob reynolds
⋆˚࿔ day twenty-six: handjob | joaquin torres
⋆˚࿔ day twenty-seven: dom!reader + blindfold | bob floyd
⋆˚࿔ day twenty-eight: mutual masturbation | peter parker
⋆˚࿔ day twenty-nine: choking | jake seresin
⋆˚࿔ day thirty: quiet sex | bradley bradshaw
⋆˚࿔ day thirty-one: age gap + temperature play | jake seresin
I WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEARI WILL DO KINKTOBER THIS YEAR
TAGS: no use of y/n, established relationship, angst, character death
request from @rinaarlert
hi jaden! i really admire your writing and was wondering if you’d consider writing about sad jake's seresin. You know how the scene in Top Gun: Maverick, where Rooster said 'Hangman the only place you'll lead anyone is an early grave' and you can see everyone in the room got so tense like something did happen.
what if like you know hangman's wingman, a girl, who he loved, but then she died during their mission together and jake's felt like it was his fault and it should have been him that died. when he heard rooster's comment maybe he got angry at him for mentioning it and about to lashed out at rooster but were hold back.
and when he comes home, he like have a beer in his hand and he like for the first time in a while cried, and maybe there are some flashbacks of their memory.
Of course, no pressure at all—just thought I’d ask!
A/N: thank you so much for the request! as i said in the reply this fic has been sitting in my drafts genuinely for forever and the fact you clocked me with a request basically identical to what i was cooking up is insane to me haha :) it's a little different but i hope you enjoy!
WORD COUNT: 930
masterlist || request box <3
If there was one thing that everyone in the room could agree on, it was that Jake Seresin was an asshole.
“We call him Hangman because he’ll always leave you out to dry,” was the famous story Phoenix spread around about the origins of his callsign, telling anyone who would listen. Was the general premise true? Maybe. Was it really how he got the name Hangman? Far from it, but he’d given up on sharing the real story a long time ago. There wasn’t a point after all, not after you’d gone. He’d learned his lesson with you. Jake Seresin wasn’t allowed to have nice things. So he played along. Build up a reputation. You can’t lose anyone if you don’t have anyone, right?
“Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.” Two years. Two years without you. Whoever came up with the phrase “Time heals all wounds” lied.
As he rounded the pool table, he glanced at Natasha and remembered where he was—that there were three other pilots staring daggers into the back of his head that didn’t know the hushed history the rest of them shared. He clenched his jaw in an attempt to mask the way the man before him managed to shatter his heart into pieces across the floor of the Hard Deck. He’s not even really sure what snarky quip he managed to come up with before he walked off. And when Penny rang the bell, he wasn’t even sure what he said to the man he threw onto the sand.
When he shut the door behind him to see the state of the bar, it was as if his heart had been ripped out his chest, his throat suddenly tightening. Bradley had found his way to the piano—as he usually did anywhere he went—with the whole bar practically gathered around him.
Make no mistake, he wasn’t jealous that Bradley had stolen everyone’s attention. He could care less, especially in his current mental state. No, it was the way Natasha fell so easily back into her place next to Bradley, cheering him on. The way Bob and Payback gently swayed along to the music, smiling at Fanboy in the place he and Javy used to take up. The way Fanboy stood behind the piano in front of Bradley, jumping in excitement and coaxing Bob to join him just as you had used to do with him. “Come dance with me, Jake!”
The memory made him flinch, and without missing a beat, he made his way through the crowd and out of the front door. He doesn't really remember the drive home, or him walking to the fridge to grab the beer he was now nursing as he stared at the wall in front of him, his brain having gone on autopilot. Taking a long swig, he sighed and leaned his head back and shut his eyes.
“Jacob Matthew Seresin, I hate you so much.”
Sitting on the couch across from where you were standing with a Nerf gun in his hand, the smile on his face kept growing bigger and bigger by the second. “Sweetheart,” he gasped, feigning offense to her statement. “Don’t you think hate is a strong word?”
Stepping towards him, you asked, “You think this is funny, do ya?”
“I think it is very funny. Wait- why’re you…” Before he could finish his sentence, you charged at him, Jake jumping from his seat on the couch and sprinting off towards the foyer before you could pounce on him.
“Where’re you going, babe? I thought it was funny!” The chase around the house lasted for what felt like forever, now finding yourselves wrestling on the kitchen floor with whipped cream everywhere. “Babe,” he whined. “Now we’re both dirty.”
As you pried yourself off of him, you giggled. “It’s called payback, cowboy.”
Sitting up from his position on the floor, he watched as you wiped the residual whipped cream off of your face with a paper towel. “Now, I know Mama Seresin taught you that staring’s rude,” you remarked, making your way back to where he sat and bending down.
“You got a little something,” you trailed off, leaning closer to his face with the paper towel in your hand. At the last second, you pulled you hand back and grabbed his neck, licking a stripe of whipped cream off of his cheek before running off, Jake right on your tail.
At the feeling of something wet falling into his ear, his eyes shot open, and he sat up. “Fuck,” he hissed to himself, wiping the tears from his face.
No amount of time could possibly pass to heal the wound left by you. Bradley might as well have punched him in the face earlier. He of all people should have understood the weight that a sentence like that could have. Not just because he understands the risks that come with their line of work, but because of who he used to be to Jake—who he was to you.
He and Jake were best friends in flight school. Then he met you, and the Bradshaws became more. They were family. When you died, it tore everyone apart. Jake couldn't blame Bradley for the hate he now held for him. He had promised to keep you safe. It should have been him that day not you but orders were orders. Now you were six feet under, and all he had left was an ache in his chest and an empty space next to him in the shape of you.
warnings: 18+ mdni, m!receiving oral, slight face-fucking, sub!bob more than anything, switchy if you squint
thinking about giving bob reynolds head. he's already half-hard by the time you're sinking to your knees, body taut with tension. restraint, maybe, because he's always on his best behaviour with you. doesn't want to ruin his chances before you’ve even started. you barely have to brush your fingers over his thigh before his breath his catching in his throat, chest rising too quickly for someone just sitting still in a chair.
you like to draw it out. start slow at first, teasing the waistband of his sweatpants down, nuzzling the skin of his hip with your nose and peppering a few light kisses there. it's nice to take a moment to just breathe in his scent at first. all that musk and arousal. his cock is big. of course it is. more lengthy than girthy, but pretty all the same—flushed and veined, resting heavy against his stomach as it stiffens more with each pass of your lips against his hip, each breath ghosted against his skin, prickling with goosebumps.
then you wrap your mouth around the head of his cock, all slow and deliberate, tongue swirling, lips plush and slick. he just breaks instantly. his head tips back, hands clenching into the arms of the chair in an attempt to pace himself. for you. you take more of him—inch by inch, jaw aching, saliva trailing down your chin. not that you care. you want to feel ruined by him. you want to ruin him back. it’s a mutual thing: you both come out of this wrecked.
"fuck, baby—" he groans. it's full-body, helpless, the sound vibrating right through to his toes as he quivers with each bob of your head and swirl of your skilled tongue.
he's trying his hardest not to move. it shows in the way his muscles are locked, thighs trembling, whole body shivering like it's taking everything he has not to thrust forward. not to fuck your throat the way you both know he could. sometimes, when it's like this, he's tempted to just let it out. sentry. void. whatever. the parts of him that are brave enough to do it. but even now, with your mouth warm around his cock and your fingers digging into his muscles thighs to keep steady, he's trying to be gentle. trying to deserve this. you hum around him and his hips jerk involuntarily. his whole face twists in this exquisite, pained expression. you're already soaked in your own underwear from the sight of him like this.
"c’mon," you pull off him to encourage. and whatever leash he had on him just snaps.
he doesn't say a word—probably isn't capable of uttering anything but breathy pleas right now—and cups the back of your head with a hand so careful it makes your heart ache. you aren't made of glass, he knows that, but boy does he treat you that way sometimes. and with that touch, just the barest pressure, he starts to move. gently at first, then less so. just these slow, shallow thrusts, hips rolling, cock gliding deeper over your tongue to hit the back of your throat. you let him, eyes wet, spit pooling, moaning around him like you’re the one receiving head.
he looks ruined, too. flushed and sweating, gasping and moaning around breaths he can't quite catch. the pleasure is too much to hold, pouring out of him in curses and broken groans he’ll be embarrassed he let slip when he’s recovered.
"i’m sorry," he pants suddenly, voice strangled with the barest edge of panic. "i can’t—oh, fuck, m'gonna cum—"
you don't stop. the squeeze to his thigh is permission enough for him. and when he does let go, it's blinding. he shudders, every muscle in his body seizing in ecstasy. the sound he lets out can only be described as a whimper, your name rolling off his tongue, breathless and stunned. thick ropes of white spill across your tongue endlessly, and you sit there patiently on your knees until he’s finished. his knees are buckling, hands fisting in your hair. he looks like he doesn't know whether to cry or thank you.
you swallow and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. he's there to wipe the dampness collected at the corner of your eyes, still trying to catch his breath.
"good?" you tease, voice hoarse.
he laughs. sort of. it's more like a broken exhale. "i mean, i think i just saw god, but yeah."
as far as the rest of the world is concerned, he is god. not the one you know, though—jaw slack and body lax in a chair, cock still twitching with the aftershocks of a mind-blowing orgasm. your pretty, ruined god of a boyfriend.
it just went through my mind that bob has most likely never had sex sober, and I knew I had to do something with that
summary: He’s never done it sober. He had warned you. He said it like he meant it to be a warning, at least. Had told you he didn’t know how to do this the normal way. Displayed his vulnerability, looking at you like this could possibly ruin something between you. You don’t see it that way. It makes it all the more special. Intimate.
tags: f!reader, smut, handjob, piv sex, soft sex, riding, switching, tiny bit of manhandling, angst, mentions of bob's former drug addiction, hurt/comfort, soft bob, desperate bob, lots of feels and yearning, bob's scrumptious serum-acquired abs
word count: 4.6k
masterlist | taglist | ao3 | @eyelessupdates
buy me a coffee ♡
He’s never done it sober.
His hands are anchored to you like he’s afraid that if they aren’t, you’re going to escape, slip away. Like you’re just a figure of smoke that is going to curl around his fingers to eventually fade out and away and leave him to an empty room where he will have to face himself.
He had warned you. He said it like he meant it to be a warning, at least. Had told you he didn’t know how to do this the normal way. Displayed his vulnerability, looking at you like this could possibly ruin something between you.
You don’t see it that way. It makes it all the more special. Intimate.
His hand cups your face as his tongue slides back into your mouth, exploring it like he wants to swallow and savor every breath you have to give. A low hum tears from the back of his throat to vibrate into your own when you let your hand slip under his shirt, fingers briefly grazing against his stomach before he stops you, covering your hand with his own to lace your fingers together.
“Let me–”
He doesn’t complete and closes the gap between you again. You’re not entirely sure what he means, but you can’t seem to linger on the thought when you feel his hands settle at your hips; they’re a bit clumsy and tentative as he holds back from letting them roam along your sides in fear he will come across as too greedy, and his hesitation is a stark contrast to the way he had backed you up against that wall in the first place.
Bob is not quite sure how much is too much, how to handle things without the chemical confidence and buzz that used to make him chase that potent urge – it had only ever been a matter of satiating his needs any way he could, as quickly as he could.
It had always been a rush to satisfy his own drug addled lust.
It all feels different now, more anchored, more palpable. He draws every action out, savors each of those, gets you impatient, pulls the focus back to you when you try to take care of him and put him first. And you would say something if you weren’t trying to indulge him and let him take what he wants – it’s the first time he gets to take his time, and he’s too eager to discover what it’s like for you to just take that away from him.
You’re convinced some part of you would feel cruel for rushing it and not letting it play the way he wants it to, even if it involved putting him and his pleasure first.
His hesitation and restraint is obvious and gets you to pull back from the kiss to take a look at his face. His gaze follows when your hands frame it gently, fingers gently brushing back the strands of hair falling over his face. “Don’t overthink it” you whisper, thumb lingering against his cheek. His lips pinch slightly before he nods half confidently, hand cupping your jaw as he presses his mouth against yours once again.
It flips a switch, sort of. His hand presses against your lower back to pull you closer to his own body as he leads you with him towards his bed, steps blind and clumsy as he walks backwards – he hums into the kiss in startlement when the back of his legs hit the edge of the bed and force him to sit if he doesn’t want to fall all the way and bring you down with him. You can only breathe out a laugh and climb onto his lap after that.
He forces his hands to settle at your hips and stop faltering, eyelids softly fluttering as he looks up at you like he can’t quite believe you’re real. His teeth lightly sink into his bottom lip, gaze roaming along your face when your hands rest at the sides of his neck.
“I can’t believe you dodged Mario Party night with Joaquin for this” you smile as you let your fingers gently trace along his face – his own busy themselves by lightly fiddling with the hem of your shirt, playing with the soft fabric.
He grins playfully. “A last minute change of schedule isn’t so bad sometimes” he says with a shrug, hands slipping under the garment to find the soft heat of your body – his thumb lightly strokes your bare skin, rubbing small circles under your shirt. You hum contemplatively, hands holding his face.
“What’d you even tell him?” you ask, brushing away a stray strand of his hair.
He sucks in a contemplative breath before he shrugs again. “Just… something about wanting to go to bed early, y’know” he grins.
Your head shakes, a chuckle escaping your lips. “You liar.”
“I didn’t lie,” he counters, defending himself. “Going to bed early doesn’t necessarily mean sleeping” he teases, moving to nuzzle along your cheek, arms wrapping and tightening around your waist.
“Yeah okay,” your hands find the back of his head, fingers sinking in his hair that’s already messy from playing with it while you were making out. You can feel his breath where his mouth gently brushes at the ticklish skin under your jaw, can hear his low, quiet whimper when you grind against his sweatpants as he presses you closer to his own body, can feel the heat of him through the layers of clothes. “Bob” his face lifts to meet your gaze, a questioning hum quietly vibrating between you. “Take your shirt off and lie back.”
His eyebrows raise in startlement, mouth slightly parting before he snaps out of it and eventually nods fervently, fingers already grabbing at the hem of his shirt to lift it over his head and toss over the floor before his back meets the mattress with a quiet grunt.
“Holy shit Bob,” you gasp, astounded. His throat bulges as he swallows in nervousness when your gaze rakes along his bare torso. “Why’d you hide those from me?” you ask, barely able to contain the awed smile growing over your face as the tip of your fingers brush against his muscled stomach in fascination.
“Oh,” his face is slowly turning red, body growing hotter than he even thought possible under the look in your eyes, a smug grin tugging at his lips. “I uh, I trained this afternoon so they’re–”
“God, this is so sexy.”
A small, choked sound catches in his throat, something between a flustered chuckle and a desperate groan when your fingers teasingly trail down the hard plane of his stomach, muscles softly tensing under your touch. His lips pinch as his gaze follows your hand, trying his best to remain quiet under the feeling of the graze of your fingertips, throat tight with anticipation when they progressively get lower and lower.
His breath catches again, breathing growing thicker when you reach the waistband of his sweatpants, one finger hooking there. You catch sight of the way his brows are knitted in focus when you look up at him before it goes further. “You okay?” you ask, eyebrows raised, hand stilling to give him room to tell you if it’s too much, too fast.
He nods almost immediately. “Yeah– yeah” he gives you a reassuring smile, momentarily brought back to his senses. He lets out a small chuckle, slightly shifting his position under you to get more comfortable – it’s not easy when it feels like he’s growing harder each second because you’re straddling him and because your hands are teasing so close to where he needs you.
Bob props himself up on his elbows when you pull your shirt over your head and toss it to join his on the floor, not saying anything, just looking, eyes unapologetically roaming along your figure, mouth parting slightly.
“What?” you ask, voice quiet, suddenly a little shy under his gaze.
“Nothing,” he shakes his head with a sincere smile. “You just– you look so pretty.” he barely has time to catch a glimpse of the smile over your face before you grab his and lunge in to kiss him, his back pressing against the bed again.
His hand instinctively slides to the small of your back, warm and obvious like he’s burning from the inside out. It travels up your spine, slow and careful like he wants to remember the feeling, wants to remember the soft hitch of your breath when his thumb traces along your ribcage and the way your body leans into his touch like it’s only natural for you to – which it probably is, but he wouldn’t know of since he’s never taken the time to linger with anyone else before, to notice such slight reactions beyond the overwhelming fog of the drugs.
Your body shifts above him to the side when your hand snakes between your bodies, trailing back down his abs, mouth ever so slightly pulling away from his own when you feel you’ve reached the thick material of the band of his sweatpants. “Can I…?” you murmur quietly, breath warm against his kiss swollen lips, fingers grazing the waistband.
Bob nods, and it comes with a breathless affirmative spilling out right after, his voice hoarse and unsteady in anticipation. A barely audible sound escapes his mouth when your hand slips under the layers of his clothes, eyes down to follow, make sure this isn’t just a dream or hallucination – the sight alone of your hand buried down there could have been enough to drive him crazy, but the thought escapes his mind when your hand closes around his hard cock, a small exhale leaving his mouth when you start moving, start gently stroking him like you have all the time in the world and all that matters is right there.
“That feel good?” you ask, a proud grin tugging at your lips from how expressively wrecked he gets, that quickly, not from much.
“Yes– Yeah,” he nods, head sinking back against the mattress.
“It’s real tight in there” you joke, voice soft but gently teasing. He lets out something between a chuckle and a groan, his arm flinging over his face to hide the heat creeping up his cheeks and attempt to chase the embarrassment away. You laugh at his reaction, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Don’t hide, this is sweet” you whisper, nose nudging against his arm, hand still wrapped around him, pumping slowly. “You’re all tense”
He’s so hard it’s almost painful, your palm gliding along his length, thumb sweeping over the sensitive tip, smearing the precum around just to watch him shudder and hiss through clenched teeth. “Shit– Don’t make fun of me, it’s all your fault”
“Well you look so good like this,” you breathe as you drag your lips along the edge of his jaw, your hand still working him beneath the fabric, not that easily from the lack of space there. “Already wrecked while I’ve barely even really started yet”
He moans, the noise quiet but broken, his arm uncovering his face to grab at the sheets, his hips lightly twitching up into your palm like he can’t help himself anymore. “Please sweetheart,” he whines, eyes squeezing shut.
“Yes baby,” you whisper as your free hand hooks in his clothes to grant him more comfort, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then the sensitive spot just under his ear. “Let me take care of you”
It feels like less of a torture once you free him of the prison of his own clothes, and he progressively eases into it as you take your time with him, take the time to observe every little shift in his face, every ragged breath that escapes his mouth, every time his lips part as he’s about to say something but the pleasure steals his words.
His fingers dig into your flesh as he clings to your arm, eyes dark and completely gone from the way you’re touching him and the way you’re looking at him – like he’s so much more than the trembling mess beneath your palm, more than just a body desperate for release, like he’s truly wanted for once in his life.
He’s never had this like this before, never had it slow, intentional, a bit tentative, not just about finishing.
Bob’s hand shifts to slide up to the back of your neck and guide your face back to his, a low hum tearing from your throat when you sense his fingers working at the button of your pants; it's a bit hurried and clumsy as he struggles, and you're forced to pull away just long enough to rid yourself of the rest of your clothes faster.
He kisses you again like he’s starving for it once you’re back over him again, deeper, needier, body pressing up against yours like the brief moment you've been apart has been unbearable.
Your forehead remains pressed up against his, breath thick with anticipation, skin burning up with desire. “Are you clean or do we need to–”
“The serum cleared me of anything” he nods, fingers brushing along your face, nose gently nudging your own.
“Okay that’s great– okay.”
Your name leaves his lips in a shaky breath when you roll your hips against his, slick and aching, the head of his cock catching right where you’re warmest. His hand digs into your waist, holding you there as his forehead presses against your shoulder. “Fuck– please,” he whispers, voice wrecked, wavering with need. “Stop teasing, I need–”
“You're acting so impatient for someone who wants to take it easy,” you chuckle softly, reaching between the two of you again to guide him where you want him.
The moment he feels himself start to slide inside, he lets out a small grunt that joins your own exhale. “Jesus, you’re–” his hands tremble on your hips as you work to take all of him in, inch by inch, until your thighs are pressed flush to his. You pause there, letting the both of you adjust, brushing your fingers along the nape of his neck while your breathing evens out. “Are you okay?” he asks, warm hands settling at your thighs, lightly squeezing in reassurance. You nod, steadying yourself, palms resting against his abdomen to brace yourself, hips leisurely starting to move.
You can’t help but wonder how many times he’s been in this position before, if it’s ever been serious enough to really mean something to him, if it feels as any good without the chemical alteration – if being that close to him in that context used to really meant being that close, if being that intimate really meant being that intimate, if it used to have any more depth than just the physical connection.
His head sinks back into the soft fabric of his bedding with a faint sigh of your name, broad hands firm at your sides, a hushed cussword quietly slipping from his mouth as you ride him slowly.
“I’ve dreamed of this before” he admits in a murmur.
Your movements still just slightly, head tilting to the side in curiosity. “Yeah?”
“Not in a weird way. I mean– dreaming about it is probably weird either way” he adds quickly, brows pulling in embarrassment as his lips twist into a self-deprecating smile. “But I’ve thought about you like this for a while”
You feel your heart thrumming faster with the way his breath catches every time you rock against him, the way his fingers twitch against your skin when you clench around him, the way he holds your gaze like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.
Knowing that he’s been thinking about this before, has been wanting you like this for a while and trusts you enough to admit it could make you crumble faster than you even expected.
You kiss him again, deeper this time, like you're trying to indulge in the way he initially wanted this to be unhurried, body pressed up against his.
“That’s more sweet than weird but– you can’t say this and expect me to last a while” you chuckle once you pull away, breath hitching in your throat when his hips tilt upwards to meet the slow grind of your body.
“That’s not necessarily a bad thing” he grins, lips dragging against your bare shoulder, the tip of his fingers running up along your spine.
“I thought you wanted to take your time,” you say, unable to help the soft gasp that follows, cheeks burning as your face buries into his neck when Bob clutches onto your waist to thrust up into you.
“I do. But it's nice knowing I can make you feel good” he grunts, muffled and short of breath, fingers digging deeper into your flesh, eyes squeezing shut when he realizes what he’s capable of when he’s not numbed by something synthetic, when it’s just him and not him and that painful itch to scratch driven by the drugs.
You keep moving together like that for a while, slow, gentle, but desperate. He lets his hands wander, less hesitant than before, sliding up your back and down again to grip your ass and guide your rhythm, groaning softly into your shoulder with each shift of your hips. There’s a desperation in his hold like he’s terrified that if he loosens his grip even for just a second you might disappear, like this entire moment could be a dream he might wake from too soon like it has been before.
And when he leans back, eyes filled with desire as he murmurs, “Can I– let me get on top, yeah? Let me do this,” the uncertainty is so obvious across his face, like he’s afraid you’ll say no, that your heart tightens in your chest before you nod, cupping his cheek.
His lips twitch into a faint, grateful smile before he rolls you onto your back like it requires no effort at all – you sometimes forget about the serum and its effects that in some cases turn out to be great perks – you never thought of how useful it could be in that kind of situation, but the thought of how much more it could get to your advantage sparks even more excitement within you.
When he settles between your legs, it’s with a tenderness that almost shatters your soul. He doesn’t push back in right away, he just hovers there, his chest pressed to yours and his hands sliding under your thighs as if to remind himself you’re still real. His lips brush the corner of your mouth as he kisses you, his breath shivering against your cheek like he’s afraid he might ruin this if he moves too fast.
And then he’s inside you again, filling you up with a slow thrust that steals the breath from your lungs. It's deeper this time, his eyes squeezing shut as a shudder rips through him, soft moans escaping your mouths at each gentle drag of his cock.
His pace starts slow, his thrusts calculated, a hand planted beside your head to hold himself up as his teeth bite into his bottom lip in focus. “You feel so good sweetheart” he murmurs, voice low with desire. His words somehow make you feel as good as his body does, unconsciously clenching around him when you feel them reverberate in the pit of your stomach.
It doesn’t take long before he picks up on the pace, hips rolling harder against yours like he can’t hold back anymore. Soft gasps and whimpers escape you, nails grazing over the muscles of his back as he fucks you, but it’s only when you open your eyes and catch a glimpse of his face that you realize that he’s crying.
Not dramatically weeping, not full on sobbing, and he probably thinks that it’s not enough to be noticeable and he can probably get away with it.
“Bob,” you whisper, hands coming to hold his face, fingers instantly brushing along his temple, panic and worry filling your voice as your gaze searches his. “Are you okay? Do you want to stop? We can stop–”
“No– no,” he breathes, voice breaking, head shaking. “I don’t wanna stop” he swallows hard, his body trembling above you, gaze dropping in shame. “It’s just– It feels real and that’s– don’t worry, just– let’s just keep going, please” he nods, trying to swallow the lump in his throat, head turning to the side like he wants to hide any way he can, face flushed and damp.
Your hand cups his cheek, gently turning him back to face you. His tears are warm against your fingertips as you swipe them away, your heart breaking for him when you see his gaze reflecting the overload of conflicted thoughts inside his head when his eyes finally meet yours. “Are you sure? We can take five if you want,” you offer, the tone of your voice poisoned with worry, watching intently when his head shakes and he swiftly wipes the few of the rest of his tears away.
“I’m okay,” he insists with a firm and resilient nod though his voice remains quiet and wavering. “I promise.”
You lean up just enough to press a kiss to his lips, soft and lingering. “I know you don’t believe it, but you’re allowed to have nice things, you know,” you murmur against his mouth.
His breath shudders out again, hand gripping your waist just a little tighter. “Yeah,” he says, almost like he’s still trying to convince himself of it, lips curling into a small, genuine smile when your hand slides down to the juncture between his neck and shoulder to soothingly rub there.
You feel the shift in him after that. It takes some time before the rhythm and confidence build up again, but Bob catches up on his pace, and soon, the momentary disruption is long forgotten, his thrusts growing bolder, surer, still tender but with more intent now, like he’s actively trying to believe that he deserves it, all of it, and has to make the most of it.
Your lids fall shut at Bob’s quiet gasps of your name breathed into your ear when you tell him how good he’s doing, coupled with his hand snaking between your bodies to touch you, gently trying to coax it out of you, begging you like you’re not already going liquid beneath him. “Come on baby, please give it to me”
Your fingers curl against his back, legs wrapping tighter around his waist and pulling him in even deeper. "Bob," you gasp as you arch into him, chasing after his touch. You’re so close it hurts, every desperate drag of his cock inside you feeling just right, every graze of his fingers sending sparks up your spine and heat pooling low in your belly.
"Please," he whispers again, like he's begging for more than just your orgasm, like he's asking for everything he’s ever wanted from you; your trust, your faith, your forgiveness for everything he's ever done and felt shameful for before he got here, right here with you beneath him.
And you give it to him, you give all of it, you want him to have it all.
Your body tightens around him with a strangled gasp, hand clinging onto his bicep and nails digging into his skin as you let go beneath him, moaning his name as you tremble in his arms, melting into the mattress as it overtakes you.
He’s not far behind. The way your body pulses around him and the broken sounds you make in his ear get him right here. He lets out a groan, hips stuttering when you meet his eyes, the dim light of the room making them appear darker than they are – yet you could swear that for the matter of half a second, you can see a golden glint shine through his irises that disappears just as fast as it went, and then he’s spilling into you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
His whole body trembles with the force of it, the muscles in his neck tensing under your fingers when your hands slide up to bury into his hair.
“You’re all sweaty,” you tease breathlessly once he starts to come down, fingers threading into his damp hair, lightly scratching his scalp.
His lips curve against your skin, his chuckle low and warm, vibrating through your feverish body. “So are you,” he murmurs, kissing the corner of your jaw before looking at you again, gaze heavy with affection and something deeper that makes your stomach twist.
You lie like this for a while, tangled limbs buzzing with that funny feeling, your breathing evening as you hold each other, your thumb idly moving back and forth against his cheek.
Bob takes in a breath before he eventually breaks the comfortable silence. ”Sorry about earlier. When I… Y’know,” his voice drops, gets quieter. “Cried” your head shakes, brows pulling, and he speaks again before you can even begin to tell him he shouldn’t have to feel like he has to apologize for that. “It’s just that... I didn’t know it could feel this good,” he admits like it's some embarrassing confession, not even sure it’s something he would be saying out loud in any other context, not sure it would be something worth admitting. “Not just the sex, I mean. You. All of this.” he murmurs. “The… emotional connection”
He shifts, readjusting his position so that he’s lying beside you, still close, giving you space so he’s not smothering you with the overwhelming heat of his body, but most of all so he can face you.
“It’s always been so quick and insignificant before” your head tilts to the side as you listen intently, quietly brushing away the damp strands of hair falling over his face, silently encouraging him to go on. “And besides the physical reactions it used to be so… numb.” he frowns. You can practically see the gears turning inside his head as he looks for his words, how to express it properly. “Not-special”
You nod, lips pinching into a small smile that wordlessly tells him that you get what he’s trying to say.
“I feel at ease when I'm with you” he eventually admits quietly, tiredly blinking as he looks at you like you’ve been giving him anything he’s ever wanted and needed.
You don’t say anything, maybe from fear that it wouldn’t even begin to compare to the preciousness of his words, so you just kiss him.
“I would want it to last forever if we could handle it. Being like this with you” he says once he pulls away, and he looks like he might almost cry again despite the grin over his face.
You chuckle, your fingertips lightly tracing the edges of his face. “We can always try” you tease playfully.
He snorts a laugh, rubbing a hand over his eyes as he breathes out like a weight has been lifted off his chest. The exhaustion is obvious over his face, like he’s been drained of all energy, blinking the sleepiness away as he tries to fight it, holding on just to not give up on you like this.
You let your hand run through his hair again. “You can rest. I’ll be there when you wake up tomorrow, I’m not going anywhere”
His eyes roam along your face before he nods, not looking to argue, and he smiles, eyes closing in contentment when you kiss his face.
He had never done it sober, but now he has.
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