#but to help her. to help her back up and to offer to take her back home | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pearlfull · 2 days ago

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must be love

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SYNOPSIS: Batboys as boyfriends and their habits in a relationship! SFW + NSFW. 18+. 〝 What did you give me to make my heart beat out my chest? 〞 Batboys x Reader. ⋆˚࿔ A/N: Thanks for love on my last post! I TAKE REQUESTS! Sorta rusty, but I've missed writing sm chat

ᯓ★ DICK GRAYSON.

SFW

DICK GREW UP WITH BRUCE'S OLD WORLD MANNERS AND ALFRED'S TENDERNESS. It would be insulting to both of them if he didn't treat his partner following those examples of devotion.

Always has a hand on you. Thigh when he's driving, drawing circles on the inside with the other on the wheel, the small of your back as you're walking through a crowd to help you guide through the heat of bodies around you both, your hip when he's talking to someone else.

So there's no question when you both are out that you're his. Not because he clings, just because he's so unmistakably in love and he's loud about it. His hand finds yours without thinking, it's second nature to him. He laughs louder when you're happy, arm stays around your waist.

When you're not around? If someone tries their luck, any girl is met with a smile and he shakes his head sweetly, "Someone gorgeous has me."

Another thing about Dick is he shows up. Not just for you, the other people in your life. They're important to you, so they're important to them. He bribes your little brother with action figures and of course he'll drive your sister to soccer practice, and they can hit boba on the way home afterwards. Holds your dog during fireworks. Your roommate has a bad date and he's on the couch with you and gives his two cents from a guy's perspective and wait hey, he thinks Wally's her type?

"They like me, right?" His hair has stray pieces of sawdust from helping your dad fix the garage door, and there's a streak of grease staining his shirt. "I can't have your whole bloodline turning on me if I mess up babe."

He wants to find his way to fit into your world. And vice versa for sure!

Will bring you to the manor, and kiss the inside of your wrist and introduce you to Alfred like you're royalty. "This is (her. him. them.)"

Like that's all the explanation needed.

With the others, he lights up when they ask about you, or when you play cards with Jason and Tim, compliment and study Dami's drawings or make Bruce and Cass laugh.

When you go out with his friends, he'll drape his arm around you and grin when they tease you both.

At his apartment, he presses a kiss softly to your lips after you steal a sip of his beer and Roy will grin at the lovestruck expression on Dick's face before raising his brows at him, "Why don't you ever do that to me?"

Flowers are often. Will deliver them casually, too. Was 4th of July a worthy occasion for them? You don't know but you don't really mind.

NSFW

Munch city. DON'T YELL AT ME I'M RIGHT.

Lives for your pleasure, but there's nothing performative about it, he just gets off to how he can make you feel.

He takes his time, draws it out, and holds your hips down to keep you from squirming. "Where're you going, pretty?"

Literally moans into you, louder if you get louder, looks up at you as if he's seeing the face of God.

"So pretty like this, fuck."

Offers constantly. You'd honestly think he's ovulating. You're drying your hair as you step out the shower, and he's kissing the side of your neck sweetly, and tugging you to his bed murmuring something like, "C'mere. Wanna taste you real quick." It's not quick, you both know, but he's already kissing inside your thighs.

All hands and praise!!

Doesn't rush the after, he's walking you to the bathroom and when you're back he has a wet towel and an iced water with a straw.

ᯓ★ JASON TODD.

SFW

JASON DOESN'T LOVE LIKE HE WAS BORN INTO IT, BUT RATHER LIKE HE HAD TO LEARN HOW TO DO IT.

Clumsy, then careful!

He's practical, until he's not.

Until you mention wanting to see a local play, and when you get home he's bought tickets to four.

"This one's experimental." His finger points to the pamphlets he got when he drove down to the ticket office. "This one's about war. Feminist period piece. A musical." He gets quieter, and shrugs like it's not a big deal. "Thought we could make a thing of it."

He's practical until he's adopting a kitten with you, no question.

You find her outside your complex in a silver bin, tiny and shaking and definitely sick. He just sighs and peels off his jacket to wrap it up as you kiss his cheek. "Guess we're cat people now."

You find him on the couch with the cat on his chest and he's reading Wuthering Heights lowly to her. He doesn't look up, just rolls his eyes.

"Don't start, [Name.] She likes the voices."

He doesn't say I love you early. But he definitely acts like it. He'll pull you behind him when you cross the street quickly, text you "home safe?" before you've even made it to your driveway.

Observant would be putting it lightly. Your favorite shampoo and conditioner is in his shower and he keeps makeup wipes and guesses your lipgloss shade to have an extra in his pocket in case you misplace it.

Checks your apartment locks, and replaces them, "Sweetheart, these deadbolts were shit."

Learns all your favorite recipes.

He learns how you like your eggs how you want the edges of your sandwiches.

"You feed the people you love, right?" A beat. "And I love you."

Your favorite childhood meal. How your mom made it after your first breakup, a week later the aroma is filling your apartment, and he has sauce on his cheek and he's trying not to grin.

He loves to cook with you too! Jason'll open the jars, hold your hips while you're focused on stirring.

Annotates your favorite books. Watches your favorite movies. Without complaint. He wants to know you. And initially it was scary, but you're healing parts of him he didn't know were hurt, and he tries to do the same.

Tipsy Jason? The roughness practically melts out of him.

He drinks slow till you arrive, and when you do, he lights up and Roy laughs and shakes his head as Jay pulls you into his lap with his drink still in hand, kissing your shoulder.

You tease him for being clingy, but the next he's murmuring into your hair, "Don't get how someone like you gets to be with me."

NSFW

Needs to see your eyes, and hear you fall apart because of him.

"C'mon, sweetheart. Wanna see those pretty eyes while I fuck you."

Whines when you moan his name, and ruts harder when you beg.

If you try and stay quiet, he slows down and looks at you like he's got every bit of time on his hands. "Say it again, want that voice, baby."

ᯓ★ TIM DRAKE.

SFW

DESPITE EVERYTHING, TIM IS CONSISTENT! He always makes time for you, and doesn't brag about it, doesn't rearrange his schedule in front of you.

"I'll be in your neighborhood in ten minutes." You raise your voice to protest, but he's already lacing up his shoes.

Spoiled would be an understatement, but to Tim? It's bare minimum, don't even think twice about it.

He'll subtly match outfits with you. Red tie, to compliment your gloss. Soft grey if you choose blue. Enough so when pap photos come out later, you'll notice.

"You do that on purpose?"

"We look good."

Places for dates are quiet when you go out: old jazz bars, private late night planetarium tours.

When he picks you up, the smoke curls in the air like the music and he's gotten you the booth in the corner next to the drums.

You also go to the aquarium, the whole place is closed to the public. You swing his hand as it's laced into yours, eyes glittering and you can tell he's trying not to laugh at your excitement. “How did you manage this?”

He just shrugs, and kisses your cheek. “I had a favor owed. Small bribe. You said you used to come here with your mom.”

You almost melt into the floor.

He loves your perfume! In a really sweet way.

Will steal your scarf in the winter to wear to work. Buries his face into your shoulder when he hugs you.

Eventually purchases a travel size of your signature scent for himself to help remind him of home when he's away.

He keeps a photo of you in his wallet, tucked behind his ID. Steph teases him for it, claims he acts like he's a soldier at war carrying a picture of his wife.

It happens on accident that you find it, you're sitting on your couch on a Sunday, your legs draped across his lap, he's rifling through it to find a gift card that has thirty more bucks on it. He flips through it, one hand on your waist, thumb tracing lazy circles over your hip bone.

There's a flash of photo paper and you blink. "Go back."

He raises his brows, freezing, "What?"

You pluck it from his hands, thumbing it through yourself and there it is. A tiny picture of you. He must've printed it himself, but you remember when it was taken. You, with a matcha latte and a goofy grin pointing to a billboard behind you with Tim's face on it.

You laugh, but tuck it back in. "You keep this in your wallet?"

"Yeah." His voice is soft, but his eyes crinkle with amusement.

"Why?"

"Because it's the one I always liked. Makes me laugh. You look pretty and like soft. And mine."

You stare at him a moment too long, and he rolls his eyes, "Okay, I sound insane."

"Nope."

Also nights in?? A great break for Tim. He gets overwhelmed easily and when he comes home he wants something real and sometimes that's you playing Mario Kart on his floor in his pajama bottoms.

Or decorating cookies shaped like lopsided bats.

You let him put his armor down, literally and figuratively.

NSFW

He works from beneath you!!! Controlled and deep thrusts, eyes locked on yours and studying the way your chin tilts and nose scrunches when he hits the right spot.

His hands are everywhere, but your hips are his favorite, rolling them in slow circles.

"That's it," "Just like that, fuck."

He also loves seeing you completely bent over sorry. Your back arched, legs shaking and your winded breath every time he pushes it in deeper.

Kissing your shoulder. Groaning against your back, he'll make you look at him

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guliexe · 2 days ago

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━━━SHORELINE 18+

Surfer!Sim Jaeyun x Female!Reader

.ᐟwarnings/tags: friends to lovers, summer, soft dom!jake, making out, dry humping, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, p in v, angsty a little, fluff, oral (f), fingering, aftercare

♡ you've loved jake for years, but he's never looked at you the way you wish he would. one summer night, he finally does, and everything changes.

.ᐟwc: 8.8k (no proofread)

It’s mid-July, and everything feels a little unreal. The kind of heat that sticks to your skin like honey, the air salty and sweet, the ocean loud but somehow comforting in the background of every moment. The days stretch long and slow, sun-drenched and golden, and the nights are warm enough that no one really goes inside anymore. You’re part of a tight-knit friend group that’s been orbiting the same beaches and bonfires all summer. Surfboards, smoothies, sandy towels, music from portable speakers. Mornings blur into late afternoons, and someone always brings drinks when the sun starts to dip behind the horizon. And then there’s Jake. Jake Sim—tanned, black hair curling over his forehead, bracelets always clinking on his wrist, board under his arm like it’s part of his body. He’s been your friend for years, technically. But you’ve spent most of those years trying to ignore the fact that you’re completely, hopelessly in love with him. You’ve never told anyone. Not even your best friend. Not even yourself, out loud. Because Jake? Jake doesn’t see you that way. Not when there’s girls like her around. Bright, gorgeous, loud—the kind of girl who fits next to him. She’s the one who always throws her arm around his shoulders in photos, who surfs as well as he does, who laughs just a little too hard at his jokes. You tell yourself that it’s not a big deal. That it’s fine. But it’s not fine. Because no matter how much you try to play it cool, how much you smile and laugh and act like Jake is just another guy in the group, your heart still skips every time he looks at you too long. Every time he says your name, grinning around the bottle of water he’s drinking from. Every time he pulls his shirt off without thinking and runs into the waves, sun hitting his back like he was made to be here.

You weren’t supposed to hang out alone today. The whole group was meant to come, but everyone canceled one by one. Lazy. Busy. And now it’s just you and Jake. Alone. And he’s waiting by your door, board propped up next to him, shirtless. “Ready to hit the water?” he says, tossing you a smile that makes your knees weak. “You promised I’d get to see your legendary surf stand today.” You roll your eyes, laughing to cover the panic in your chest. “Legendary in how bad it is?” “Legendary because you’re cute when you fall,” he teases. And just like that, you’re drowning—and you haven’t even stepped into the ocean yet.

The water is warm when you wade in, the kind of warmth that wraps around your legs and pulls you in deeper. Jake walks ahead of you, board tucked under one arm, wet hair already curling at the ends. You try not to stare at his back, the way his shoulder blades shift, the water beading down his tanned skin. You fail miserably. “Alright, coach me,” you say, trying to sound confident. Jake smirks, turning around and offering his hand to help you up onto the board. You hesitate for a half-second before taking it. “You already know the basics,” he says, treading water beside you. “Pop up fast, keep your balance, don’t panic.“ “Okay.” He lets go of the board and gives it a little push. “Go ahead.” You paddle forward, managing to catch a baby wave—and, just like that, you’re on your feet for all of three glorious seconds before you wobble and tumble straight off the board with a splash. You come up sputtering, hair in your eyes, and Jake’s already laughing. “You almost had it that time!” he calls, floating closer. You flick water at him. “Shut up.” He grins, eyes crinkling, and swims over to steady the board. “Alright, alright. Try again. I’ll help this time.” You crawl back on, breathless and wet, trying not to think about how close he is as he floats next to you. He places one hand gently on your lower back to steady you and your heart nearly leaps out of your chest.

“Keep your feet wide,” he murmurs, guiding your legs into position. “Yeah, like that.” You nod, eyes glued to the water. Anywhere but his face. “And pop up—now.” You try, really try, but your knee slips and suddenly you’re falling again, off the board and straight into him. You crash into his chest, your hands landing on his shoulders, and his arms wrap around you instinctively to keep you both from going under. For a moment, everything stops. You’re pressed against him, chest to chest, his hands firm around your waist, ocean swirling around you. The sun glows somewhere above, but all you can feel is Jake. His eyes are on yours. So close. So dangerously close. Salt on his skin. His breath fanning over your lips. You blink. He doesn’t move. And then, awkwardly, too quickly, you laugh. “God, I suck at this,” you say, trying to twist out of his arms. He lets go slowly, like he doesn’t want to. “Nah,” he says, voice quieter now. “You’re doing better than you think.” You swim backward a little, pushing your hair out of your face, cheeks burning. He watches you like he’s trying to figure something out, but the moment passes, and soon enough, he’s teasing you again. Splashes you. Challenges you to a race. Makes you forget for a second that anything happened at all.

You spend a little longer in the water, drifting between lazy splashes and playful teasing. Jake tries to dunk you once, fails, and you laugh so hard your stomach hurts. “This is probably the worst surf lesson of all time,” you tease as he floats beside you, arms stretched behind his head like he has all the time in the world. He shrugs. “Nah, I’ve had worse.” “Oh yeah?” you smirk. “Name one.” He grins. “This one girl nearly drowned me because I was ‘correcting her form.’ Real aggressive.” You snort. “She sounds kind of hot.” He raises a brow at you. “She is.” Your chest tightens, but you splash water in his face before he can see it. Eventually, the sun starts dipping lower, turning everything a honeyed gold. You both float there for a few more quiet seconds, water rocking you gently. Then Jake nudges you with his shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s head out.” You make your way back to shore, water dripping from your limbs, the sand soft and warm beneath your feet. Jake walks ahead to grab his board, and you follow, pulling your hair back, skin glistening in the fading light. What you don’t see is the way he looks back at you when you pass him. His eyes trail over your curves, still wet and gleaming under the sun. The way your bikini clings to you. The curve of your hips, the slow sway in your walk as you brush your towel off. His jaw tightens slightly, brows twitching like he’s thinking something he shouldn’t, but he doesn’t look away. Not until you sit down. You drop onto your towel with a soft sigh, brushing your hair out of your face. Jake joins you a moment later, flopping down beside you, his board sticking out of the sand nearby. Everything smells like sea salt and sunscreen and him.

The two of you sit side by side, toes buried in the warm sand, wet hair dripping onto your shoulders. The waves roll in and out, steady and soft. The sun is lower now. Jake leans back on his elbows, looking out toward the horizon. “Good day.” he says softly. You glance over at him, and it hits you again—just how pretty he is in this light. His profile, the way his lashes catch the last of the sun. How at ease he looks here, like the ocean is the only place he’s ever belonged. “Yeah,” you say, heart thudding a little too hard. “It is.” For a few moments, there’s only the sound of waves and birds and the quiet hum of tension between you. “Wanna come to mine?” you say, nervous. Jake turns to you slowly. “I’ve got beers, chips, probably some ice cream too.” He smiles, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Your beach house feels cooler once you step inside, the salty breeze drifting in through open windows, mixing with the familiar scent of sunscreen and lemony soap. Jake’s already tossing his towel over the back of the couch like he lives here—because in a way, he kind of does. He’s been here more times than you can count, post-surf showers, movie nights, late dinners with the group. But tonight feels different. You grab two beers from the fridge and toss one to him as you walk past “Thanks.” You plop down onto the couch beside him, legs curled under you, and he stretches out, shirt sticking to his still-damp skin, hair a little frizzy from the salt water. The TV flickers in the background—some nature documentary neither of you is watching. The only light comes from the screen and the tiny lamp you always forget to turn off. It casts the whole room in a soft orange glow, warm and sleepy. He cracks open his beer. “So. On a scale of one to complete embarrassment, how would you rate today’s surf lesson?” You shoot him a glare over your bottle. “I’d say a solid seven. But only because I didn’t actually drown.”

He chuckles. “A win’s a win.” You sip, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He looks relaxed. His head is tilted back, the curve of his jaw catching the lamplight. That bracelet he never takes off is still wet, clinging to his wrist. His thumb runs lazily over his beer bottle. You clear your throat. “Thanks for teaching me. Again.” He glances over. “You’re getting better.” “Liar.” He smiles at you softly. “Okay, you suck. But you’re trying. And you looked like you were having fun.” You nod, lips quirking. “I was.” For a while, the two of you just sit there, sipping quietly, shoulders nearly touching. The breeze flutters through the curtains, and outside, the last of the sun has melted into the ocean into something darker, quieter.

He turns slightly toward you, voice low. “Crazy how long we’ve been doing this.” You glance at him. “Surfing?” He gives you a look. “This. Us. Hanging out. It’s been, what—five years?” You nod slowly. “Yeah…damn. Five.” You both go quiet for a moment, the weight of that time hanging in the air between you. So many summers. So many inside jokes. So many chances you didn’t take. He breaks the silence first. “Remember that one time we all snuck into the pool at that hotel?” You laugh instantly. “When you splashed the security guard and nearly broke your ankle jumping the fence? Yeah.” Jake chuckles. “I swear we almost died that night.” You’re both smiling now, warmth bubbling up between you—not just from the drinks, but from this. From the years of comfort, the way you know each other so well it’s easy to forget the ache under the surface. You shift slightly to face him more, leaning back against the couch. “I’m glad we’re still like this,” you say quietly. “Even if everything else’s changed.” Jake’s eyes meet yours. “Yeah,” he says. “Me too.” The air feels heavier now. Not awkward, but charged. His eyes drop to your lips for just a second before flicking back up.

Your head’s tipped back against the couch, skin flushed and warm from the drinks, your lips still tingling from laughing too hard at something dumb Jake said ten minutes ago. The room spins just slightly in that way it does when you’ve had just enough, soft edges, soft thoughts, everything blurring like a dream. Jake’s next to you, turned toward you now, one arm thrown lazily along the back of the couch. He’s watching you. You can feel it more than see it. “You’re drunk,” he murmurs. You snort. “No I’m not.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth tugging up in that slow, teasing way that always makes your heart ache. “Yes, you are.” And then his hand reaches up gently and he tucks a damp strand of hair behind your ear, fingers trailing just barely against your skin. You freeze, breath catching. His eyes don’t leave yours. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, “You’re so pretty.” Your whole body stills. “…What?” You look up at him, blinking, heart hammering. You can feel the blush rising in your cheeks like a wave, hot and immediate. Jake just smiles wider. And then he lets out the softest laugh and leans in. He kisses you. Warm and slow, his lips pressing softly into yours like he’s been waiting to do it for years. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, and your eyes flutter shut, the taste of him, beer, salt, Jake, sinking into your skin like a secret.

He kisses you like he means it, like he’s been dying to, and the second his hands slide around your waist, you already know where this is going. His grip is firm but careful, fingertips pressing into the skin just above your hips, still damp from the ocean. You feel him shift beneath you, then suddenly you’re being pulled into his lap. You let out a soft gasp, steadying yourself with your palms on his shoulders as your knees straddle him, your bikini-clad body settling over his swim trunks. He exhales hard through his nose when your thighs tighten around his hips, and you can feel him underneath you already, half-hard, hot, pressing right up against your barely-covered center. “Fuck,” he breathes, his head tilting back as he looks at you. “You’re so pretty like this.” You’re already blushing, your skin buzzing from the heat of the alcohol, the air, him. He brings a hand up to push a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering along your jaw. “You always are,” he murmurs. “But right now? Sitting on me like this? You’re unreal.” You can’t say anything. Not when he’s looking at you like that. Not when every part of your body is screaming for more. So you slowly move. Your hips roll forward, just once, dragging the soaked fabric of your bikini bottom against the rougher texture of his swim trunks. The friction makes both of you shudder.

His grip on your hips tightens instantly. “There you go,” he murmurs, voice low and thick. “Just like that, baby.” Your stomach flips at the praise, at the way his voice drops when he says it—baby. Like it belongs to you now. Like he’s never called anyone else that before. You do it again, a little more confidently this time, grinding against him with a soft whimper slipping past your lips. Jake groans deep in his chest, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “Fuck, that’s it,” he says. Your hands slide up into his hair, wet and soft under your fingers, and you kiss along his jaw—down his neck, where his pulse beats hard against your lips. He tilts his head to give you more space, his breath catching when you kiss a little harder. His cock twitches beneath you and you feel it, all of it. And it’s so good, so intense, that your hips move without you even meaning to, searching for more pressure, more friction, more him. He hisses through his teeth, pulling you down tighter against him. “Keep doing that baby, fuck—” he murmurs. You moan softly, your pace picking up, slow but steady, dragging yourself along him as you kiss down his neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses over sun-warmed skin. The heat is building fast between you, sweat and seawater mixing with the electricity sparking under every touch. “Jake,” you whisper, lips brushing his collarbone. He leans in, breath hot against your cheek. “Let’s go to your room, yeah?” he says, voice rough. And when you nod, eyes wide, lips swollen, he lifts you, arms firm under your thighs, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Jake carries you down the hall with your legs wrapped tight around his waist, your bikini still damp and clinging to your skin, his lips brushing yours between heated, breathless laughs. When he nudges your bedroom door open, the only light in the room is the soft, low glow of your lava lamp, a dreamy, slow-moving mix of purples and pinks that cast shifting shadows on the walls. He sets you down on the bed carefully, like you’re fragile, like he’s trying to keep it gentle, but the second your back hits the sheets, he’s on you. He climbs over you, his body caging yours in with easy strength, and he dives in—his lips on your neck, hot and open, kissing and sucking until you’re gasping. He nips at the skin just below your ear, your collarbone, working his way down with messy, hungry kisses. “Jake,” you whisper, voice already shaking. “God,” he groans into your neck, hands sliding up over your stomach. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” Then his hands find your chest, his thumbs dragging along the edge of your bikini top before he squeezes your tits through the fabric, hard enough to make you gasp. His mouth is still at your neck, kissing and biting and panting against your skin like he can’t get close enough.

You arch into his hands, your hips already shifting beneath him, grinding up against where he’s hard and heavy between your legs. Even through the fabric of your swimsuits, the pressure is blinding. You rock your hips again, more desperately this time. He groans low and filthy, and grinds back down into you. “Fuck, baby,” he growls, one hand leaving your chest to grab your hip and hold you still. “You’re gonna make me lose it.” His fingers dig into your waist, guiding your hips as you move against him, his cock thick and pulsing through his swim trunks, pressed perfectly against your core. You’re soaked already, the thin fabric of your bikini barely a barrier at all. Jake palms your tits roughly through your bikini top, groaning low in his throat like he’s waited too long to touch you like this. Then, without a word, he slides his fingers under the fabric and pushes it up, taking it off of you. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dropping to your now-bare chest. “Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” And then he’s on you again—his mouth hot and hungry, lips wrapping around one nipple as he sucks it deep into his mouth. His tongue circles, wet and relentless, and your back arches off the mattress as a moan tumbles out of you. “Jake,” you gasp, threading your fingers into his damp hair.

He groans at the sound of your voice, switching sides, licking and sucking at the other nipple now while his hand slides up to squeeze the one he just left—fingers rolling it between his fingertips, firm and perfect and too much in the best way. He’s messy with it, sloppy, he doesn’t care, just needs to taste you. His teeth graze your sensitive skin and you writhe beneath him, grinding up into the hard line of his cock pressed against your center. “You sound so good,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice rough and low. “So fucking sweet, baby.” And then, his hand trails down. Over your ribs. Over your stomach. Straight under your bikini bottom. You suck in a breath the moment his fingers slide through your slick folds, already soaking wet from how badly you want him. He groans. “Fuck. You’re dripping.” His middle finger finds your clit and starts rubbing slow, steady circles over it, perfect pressure, and your hips jerk up instantly, a whimper slipping from your lips before you can stop it. Jake’s mouth crashes back onto yours, swallowing every sound as he kisses you harder than before—tongue curling into yours, his hand between your legs never stopping, working you into a mess beneath him.

You can’t stop the sounds now—soft gasps, broken moans, the way your body starts rocking into his touch. “Jake, please,” you whimper, tearing your mouth from his, eyes glassy. “Tell me what you need,” he says, kissing along your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “I’ll give you anything, baby. Just say it.” You’re panting beneath him, your hips rolling helplessly into his hand as his fingers circle your clit, while his mouth stays glued to your neck. He’s so deep into you—touching, kissing, tasting—you don’t even realize how close you are to falling apart until the words tumble out of your mouth, broken and breathless. “Jake,” you whimper. “Want you to fuck me.” His hand stutters, just slightly, but he keeps going, his breathing getting heavier against your cheek. He lifts his head, eyes locking with yours, and you feel like the air has been sucked out of the room. You blink up at him, barely able to breathe, and whisper, “Please, Jakey.” He whimpers. Actually whimpers—a soft, desperate sound pulled from somewhere deep in his chest, like the sound of his restraint finally snapping in two. “Holy fuck,” he mutters, and then he’s moving, yanking his hand from between your legs, reaching down to hook his fingers under the sides of your bikini bottoms. “You can’t—fuck—don’t call me that.” He slides your bikini bottoms off in one smooth motion, tossing them somewhere behind him, and his gaze drops between your legs. His jaw clenches at the sight of you, wet, flushed, bare for him. “Jesus Christ, baby…”

Then he’s on his knees, pushing his swim trunks down, and your eyes drop instinctively. Your breath catches. He’s big. Thick and flushed and so fucking pretty, the tip already slick and leaking as he wraps a hand around the base and strokes once—slow, like he’s trying to calm himself down and failing miserably. You let out a soft, shocked moan, eyes locked on him. Jake notices—and he smirks, that cocky little flash of teeth you’ve seen a hundred times before but never like this. He leans over you again, kissing you slow, deep, while he lines himself up between your legs, the head of his cock dragging through your wetness. “Want me to fuck you ,baby? Yeah?” he breathes against your lips. You nod fast, almost trembling. “Yes. Please—want you so bad, Jakey.” He groans and pushes forward, just barely. And it slides in—slow and easy, your body opening up for him, so warm and wet around him that he nearly chokes on a moan. “Holy fuck,” he gasps against your mouth. “You feel—so good. So fucking tight.” You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, hands digging into his back, and when he bottoms out, it feels like something inside you clicks into place. You’re full. So full. He doesn’t move for a second, just breathing hard against your neck, his body trembling from holding back. Then he pulls out halfway—and thrusts back in, sharp enough to make you gasp.“Jake—!”

“That’s it,” he grits out, one hand grabbing the headboard above you as he starts to move. “Let me hear you.” He starts fucking you slow but deep, his hips rolling into yours like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel. Every thrust hits that perfect spot inside you, the one that makes your back arch and your breath catch in your throat. He groans, eyes dark, sweat starting to bead at his temples as he picks up the pace, his strokes getting rougher, needier, deeper. “You take me so fucking well,” he pants. “Knew you would. Knew you’d feel perfect.” The sound of skin on skin fills the room, the wet slap of his hips meeting yours over and over, and you can barely think—your body rocked by every thrust, every word, every kiss he presses to your cheek, your neck, your mouth. You moan his name again, broken and breathless. And Jake loses it. He starts fucking you harder, faster, his cock slamming into you at just the right angle, his hand slipping between your bodies to rub circles over your clit. You’re barely holding on. You can’t even form words anymore—just soft, broken gasps of his name. “Jake… Jake, I—” You claw at his shoulders, eyes fluttering shut, mouth falling open as your whole body tightens. He leans down, breath hot on your neck. “That’s it, baby. Let go. Lemme feel you.”Your back arches off the bed as the orgasm crashes into you. Your thighs tremble around his hips, and you cry out, your entire body clenching around him as your release hits you like a wave.

You’re dazed, ruined, barely aware of anything except how full you feel, how perfect he feels, how you never want this to end. “Fuck,” Jake groans, voice strained. “You feel so good—holy shit—I don’t think I can last—“ He pulls out suddenly with a desperate grunt, wrapping a hand around his cock, and you barely manage to open your eyes in time to see him come completely undone. “Fuck, baby,” he gasps, head falling back as hot, sticky ropes of cum spill across your stomach, your tits, painting your flushed skin in a messy, breathless finish. He strokes himself through it, breathing hard, his eyes locked on the sight of you laid out beneath him—glowing in the purple light of the lava lamp, glistening, ruined, perfect. You blink up at him, still dazed, your chest rising and falling with every shaky breath. Jake looks like he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. “Jesus,” he mutters, voice hoarse. “You fucking wrecked me.”

You must’ve fallen asleep wrapped up in him. One minute, Jake was still kissing your shoulder, fingertips brushing lazy shapes on your waist, and the next, your eyes are fluttering open to the faint glow of early morning bleeding into your room. The sky outside is that soft, pale indigo. The same dreamy light that washed over you both last night is back, but now it feels different. Colder. You blink, stretch your legs beneath the sheets, still drowsy and warm, and then you realize—He’s not there. Your hand reaches instinctively to the other side of the bed, but it’s cold. Sheets wrinkled but empty. His clothes are gone from the floor. Your heart drops. You sit up slowly, blanket falling around your bare chest, the ache between your thighs a lingering reminder of everything that happened hours ago. Your skin still smells like him. You still feel his hands on you. His mouth. His words. But he’s not here. And just like that, the warmth starts to fade. The bedroom feels too quiet, too still. Your throat tightens. You try not to let your mind spiral, but it’s impossible not to. Maybe it didn’t mean anything to him.

Maybe it was just the alcohol. Just the tension. Maybe he went back to her. Maybe he regrets this. You swallow hard. You tell yourself to stop, to breathe, to wait—but the sting is already rising behind your eyes, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down your cheek. Then another. And then you’re silently crying, chest tight, fists curled in your blanket as you sit there in the soft light of a morning that suddenly feels so cruel. You knew he liked that other girl. You’ve seen the way he looks at her—how can he look at you the same way and still want someone else? You wipe at your face with the back of your hand, frustrated with yourself for feeling this much. For hoping. Because last night, for just a little while, it felt like you were everything to him. And now…he’s gone.

By midday, the sun is high and blinding, casting golden light across the waves. The beach is buzzing again, boards scattered across the sand, friends stretched out on towels, someone grilling lunch, music playing just loud enough to drown out your thoughts. You sit a little off to the side, legs curled beneath you, sunglasses hiding your tired eyes. You’ve barely said a word since you joined everyone. You nod when people talk. Smile when it’s expected. But you’re not really present. Not when you can still feel the ghost of Jake’s hands on your body. Not when the last thing you remember from last night was falling asleep tangled up in him, thinking maybe, finally, he was yours.

And now, now it’s like you’re watching him from the outside again. Like you always have. Jake’s been hovering nearby all morning—offering you drinks, asking if you’re hungry, tossing you gentle smiles like he’s trying to check in without making it obvious. But you’ve kept your distance. And it’s killing him. You see it in the way he keeps glancing at you, confused, a little hurt. Like he doesn’t understand why everything feels different. Like he’s searching for the version of you from last night, the one who moaned his name and kissed him like she’d been waiting a lifetime. Now you barely look at him. You can’t. Because you don’t trust yourself not to break. He comes over at one point, shirtless, hair still damp from a swim, sitting beside you with a hopeful smile. “Wanna walk down to the rocks with me later? It’s kinda nice over there.” You don’t meet his eyes. “Maybe later,” you say, soft. He hesitates. “You okay?” “Yeah,” you lie. Jake stares at you for a second longer, his brows drawing together like he wants to press harder, but doesn’t. He nods once and gets up again, joining the others. You finally exhale. And you sit there the rest of the afternoon feeling like you’re floating just out of reach—like everyone else is on the shore and you’re out in the water.

The party starts just after sunset. It’s beautiful, really—how quickly the sky shifts from orange to dusky pink to deep navy. Someone brought lanterns and fairy lights, and now they’re strung along the trees and tied to sticks in the sand, flickering like stars. A bonfire crackles near the center of it all, throwing golden light across everyone’s faces. Music’s playing, and someone’s passing around a bottle of vodka. Plates of food rest on towels and tables. Coolers overflow with beer and soda. People are laughing, dancing, shouting over each other. It’s the kind of night that should feel perfect. But it doesn’t. Not for you. You’re standing a little off to the side, near the edge of the fire’s light, holding a drink that’s already gone warm. You’ve been trying to act normal all evening, but you feel it—how different everything feels now. Or maybe it’s just you that feels different. You haven’t spoken much. You haven’t even tried to talk to Jake. And he hasn’t really come over, either. Not since earlier. You keep pretending not to watch him. Pretending not to care that he’s across the circle of people, beer in hand, laughing at something someone said. At something she said. She’s right beside him—the girl. The one you’ve always had a quiet ache about. The one he used to flirt with before. The one you thought he moved on from after last night. But now her hand is wrapped lightly around his arm, and she’s leaning in close, laughing at something he said like he’s the funniest person alive. You can’t hear what they’re saying. You don’t need to. Your chest goes tight. Your stomach turns. Jake doesn’t push her away. He doesn’t lean in either, but he smiles. And that smile makes something splinter in your chest. Maybe it meant nothing to him. Maybe last night was just a moment. Maybe she’s the one he wants after all.

You can’t take it anymore. You quietly slip away from the group, no one notices. They’re too busy drinking and dancing. You walk farther down the beach, shoes in hand, until the noise fades behind you. Until it’s just the sound of waves, soft and rhythmic, and the wind in your hair. You find a small outcropping of rocks half-hidden by tall grass and sit there, your arms hugging your knees, heart full of things you can’t say out loud. The sand is cold. The air has a bite to it now that the sun is gone. But you don’t move. You just sit there quietly, aching. Until you hear footsteps in the sand behind you. You don’t need to look to know it’s him. Jake says your name gently, like he’s afraid you’ll run. You close your eyes. “Can I sit?” he asks. You nod without speaking. He drops into the sand beside you, knees bent, hands on the ground behind him. For a few moments, neither of you says anything. Then he murmurs, “Why’d you leave?” You shrug, still not looking at him. “Just wanted some air.” “I noticed you were gone.” He pauses. “I’ve been noticing a lot of things lately.” You say nothing. He swallows. “Did I do something?” You don’t answer. You can’t. Because your throat is already tight, and your eyes are already burning, and you don’t know how to tell him that watching him with her tonight shattered something fragile you were still trying to protect. You just whisper, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Jake looks at you for a long time. Then he says softly, “Okay. But I’m not leaving you out here alone.” And so he stays. Quiet and still, right beside you, just close enough that you can feel the warmth of him.

You sit beside him in silence, the ocean humming softly in the distance, moonlight casting silver over the waves. The party is still alive far down the beach, music pulsing faintly, voices rising and falling, but out here, it’s just you and Jake. The air feels heavy. Like the moment is pressing in from all sides. Jake picks at the hem of his shorts, stealing glances at you like he wants to speak but doesn’t know where to begin. You can feel the weight of his gaze, his confusion, his worry. And suddenly, you can’t take it anymore. Your voice is small—barely audible over the water—but it cuts through the space between you like lightning. “Did it mean anything to you?” He freezes. Your eyes stay fixed on the ocean. You can’t look at him. If you do, you’ll fall apart. You swallow hard, voice trembling. “Last night…when you—when we…” You hesitate. “Was it just a hook-up to you?” Jake turns toward you fully now. You still don’t meet his eyes. There’s a beat of silence. “What?” he says, like the wind got knocked out of him. You finally look at him, and his expression shatters something in you. He looks stunned. Crushed. Like he never saw this coming. “I woke up and you were gone,” you whisper. “And then today you just acted like everything was normal. And then tonight, you’re with her—laughing, letting her touch you—like nothing happened between us. Like I imagined all of it.”

Jake’s mouth opens, then closes. He’s speechless. You look away again. “So just tell me. Did it mean anything to you?” The silence stretches, and you feel your stomach twist. Then his voice breaks through, soft and shaking, “Of course it meant something to me.” You blink. Jake exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know you felt this way. I thought you’d be weirded out. I thought maybe I crossed a line. I didn’t know what to do.” You look at him, and he’s not smug or cool or collected. He looks wrecked. “I wasn’t with her,” he says quickly. “Not like that. She grabbed me. I didn’t even realize it would look bad. I wasn’t thinking, I was just…I was looking for you.” Your chest tightens. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all day,” he says, his voice rising just a little. “But you kept shutting me out. I thought maybe you regretted it. That I fucked everything up.” Your breath catches. “I left because I didn’t want to wake you. That’s it. I was scared if I stayed, you’d wake up and regret it.” You’re both quiet for a moment, the weight of everything between you settling in the sand. Then he adds, barely above a whisper, “I’ve liked you for years. I just didn’t think I had a chance.” You stare at him, barely breathing. His words keep echoing in your head. It doesn’t feel real. Like maybe you dreamed this whole thing. Like your brain made it up just to protect you from the ache in your chest. But then Jake smiles. Soft and sheepish. Like he’s been holding this in forever and finally let it out.

You blink, eyes burning again—but this time for a different reason entirely. “You…you liked me?” you whisper, voice shaky. “This whole time?” Jake laughs under his breath, shaking his head like he can’t believe you don’t see it. “Are you kidding? You’ve been driving me crazy since the first time we met.” A breathless sound escapes you, half laugh, half sob, and you don’t even realize you’re crying until Jake reaches out and gently wipes a tear from your cheek. “Hey,” he murmurs, scooting closer, his hand cupping your jaw. “Don’t cry, baby.” You lean into his touch without thinking. Your heart is racing, chest rising and falling fast, and you can barely look at him without tearing up again. “I thought I lost you,” you whisper. “You never did,” he says. “I was yours before last night. You just didn’t know it.” Your lips part like you’re about to speak, but then Jake leans in, his forehead brushing yours, and he kisses you. Soft and gentle. His lips warm and slow against yours, he’s trying to tell you everything he hasn’t said with just one kiss. You melt into it, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you closer. When he finally pulls back, his lips are still brushing yours as he whispers, “I’m not going anywhere this time.” He leans back just slightly, his thumb brushing gently over your cheek, catching the last trace of tears before they can fall again. “Wanna go back to the others now?” he asks, voice low and soft. You nod, your heart finally light again. “Yeah.” He smiles and laces your fingers together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You both stand, still barefoot, brushing off the sand. The moon is higher now, and the wind cooler, but with Jake’s hand in yours, everything feels warm again. He doesn’t let go. And as you walk back toward the lights and the fire and the laughter, you swear the world feels a little different—like something shifted quietly inside it.

The party’s still going strong around the fire, but everything feels quieter now. Jake’s hand hasn’t left yours since you came back from the rocks. Every now and then he bumps your shoulder or leans close to say something soft, like he has to keep touching you just to believe you’re really still there. And every time your eyes meet, it lingers. There’s no awkwardness anymore. No guessing. No more pretending. Just heat. Raw, familiar, and simmering just beneath the surface. You’re sitting beside him on one of the big towels, watching the flames crackle and the others still half-drunk and laughing. But you don’t really care about any of it. Not when his fingers are trailing slow circles on your bare thigh. Not when you keep glancing at his mouth like you want to kiss him again—properly. You feel him shift beside you, and when you look up, he’s already watching you. “Wanna leave?” he murmurs, voice low against your ear. You bite your lip, nod once. “Yeah.” He stands up without another word, tugging you gently with him, and neither of you tells anyone goodbye.

The walk back to your place is quiet but not awkward. Just heavy with anticipation. Your fingers stay laced. He keeps stealing glances at you, and your heart won’t stop racing. By the time you get inside, the door’s barely closed before he turns to you, eyes dark, soft smile. Jake cups your face and kisses you, slow and tender. His hands trail down your sides, slipping under the hem of your dress, touching your skin like he missed it. You let your arms wrap around his neck, fingers threading through his hair as you sigh into his mouth. This time, there’s no rush. No foggy drunk blur. He doesn’t break the kiss as he picks you up—hands gripping the back of your thighs, holding you against his chest like you weigh nothing. You gasp softly against his mouth, arms tightening around his shoulders. He walks the familiar path to your bedroom, only the soft light of the hallway guiding the way. When he gets there, he gently lowers you to the bed. He pauses above you, one knee between your legs, his gaze sweeping over your face “You’re sure?” he asks again, voice low but steady. You nod, breath shaky. “I want you.” Jake lets out a soft exhale, like he’s been holding it in all night. “Good,” he whispers, brushing your hair from your face with the back of his knuckles. “Because I’m not letting you go this time.”

He leans down and kisses you again, slower and deeper. His mouth warm and sure, hands trailing along your waist, slipping beneath your dress to touch your bare skin. His lips move to your neck, dragging along the sensitive skin just below your jaw. “You smell so good,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Feel even better.” Your fingers dig into his shoulders. And when he slips a hand beneath your dress, eyes locked on yours, his voice drops to a whisper that sends shivers straight to your core, “Let me make you feel good again, yeah?” His fingers slip, sliding over your panties—and the moment he feels the dampness there, he lets out a low groan. “Fuck,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours for a beat. “Already wet for me?” You nod shakily, unable to speak, hips twitching as he rubs slow, deliberate circles over your clothed slit. The pressure of his fingers through the thin fabric has you gasping, legs parting on instinct. Then he presses a little harder, and your breath hitches, your body arching into his hand with a quiet, needy whimper. Jake smiles against your neck, voice low and warm. “Sound so sweet f’me, baby.”

Your thighs tremble. He slides your panties to the side, fingers finding your soaked folds, and then slowly, he slips two fingers inside. You moan softly, walls clenching around the intrusion, and Jake groans in your ear feeling how tight you are. “Shit,” he breathes, starting a gentle rhythm, curling his fingers with every stroke. “So fuckin’ soft around me.” You’re already squirming, hands fisting the sheets, barely able to process the pleasure building as he fucks his fingers into your gummy walls. Then his thumb finds your clit, pressing and rubbing in slow, perfect circles, and your head falls back with a whine. He kisses down your neck, messy and hungry, teeth scraping lightly over your skin. “There you go,” he murmurs between kisses.“Makin’ all those pretty noises just f'me.” You moan louder at that, your body completely at his mercy now—hips rocking up to meet every thrust of his fingers, desperate for more, for all of him.

You can feel it building, coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, seconds away from falling apart completely, but then Jake pulls his fingers out. You gasp, whining at the loss, trembling with frustration. “Jake—” you whimper, breath ragged. He leans in, voice thick with heat. “Shhh, baby.” Before you can even beg, he’s already moving, kneeling between your legs, eyes locked on you as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drags them down your thighs. Then your dress. He pushes it up and over your head, leaving you completely bare for him. Jake just stares for a moment—drinking you in like you’re something holy. His pupils are blown wide, his lips parted. “Fuck,” he whispers, running a hand through his hair. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He pulls his shirt off in one swift motion, tossing it aside. His skin is warm and golden in the low light, muscles flexing as he shifts forward, settling himself between your thighs like it’s where he belongs.

You shiver as his hands slide up your legs, thumbs brushing gently along your inner thighs. Then he leans in close, until his breath is hot and heavy right against your dripping cunt. He doesn’t touch you yet. Just breathes. Watches. Fingers ghosting up and down your slick folds as you writhe under him, desperate and aching. “Look at you,” he murmurs, completely entranced. His thumb swipes gently through your wetness. “My sweet girl.” You bite your lip, a whimper slipping from your throat. And then, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, soft and lingering, before sliding his tongue slowly up your slit, groaning low against you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted.

The moment his tongue touches you, it’s over. He moans low against your pussy like he’s tasting something he’s been craving for years. He starts slow, teasing licks through your folds, lips wrapping around your clit just enough to make your whole body jolt. And then he does it again. And again. Each time a little rougher. A little wetter. A little more desperate. “Fuuuck,” he groans into you, hands gripping your thighs, keeping you open for him. “You taste so fucking good.” You gasp, fingers tangling in his hair, hips lifting off the bed as he sucks your clit into his mouth. It’s messy, obscene—the sounds of him licking you echoing through the room, wet and filthy and perfect. Then suddenly, he’s slipping two fingers back inside you—pushing in deep, curling them up in just the right way, and your moan breaks into a whimper. “Ngh—Jake—!” He groans again, like your voice alone is enough to make him lose it. Then he adds a third finger.

Your back arches, legs trembling as he fucks them into your soaked cunt fast and deep, his palm smacking softly against your skin with every thrust. His mouth never leaves your clit—tongue flicking, sucking, devouring like it’s the only thing that matters. “Let go, baby,” he mumbles against you. “Wanna feel you.” You’re already so close. You can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t stop yourself from grinding against his face like your body’s got a mind of its own. The pressure snaps. You cry out, thighs clenching around his head as your orgasm crashes into you. Your fingers tug at his hair, your hips jerk, your moans breaking into soft, high-pitched whines as you fall apart in his mouth. But Jake doesn’t stop. He keeps licking. Keeps fucking his fingers into you like he wants to memorize the way you cum. And when you finally start to go still, trembling and breathless beneath him, he pulls back just enough to kiss your inner thigh, lips swollen, chin glistening with your slick. He crawls back up your body, kissing a trail from your trembling thighs to your stomach, over your chest—leaving warm, messy kisses across your skin before finally reaching your mouth. He kisses you hard. Hungry, deep, desperate, his lips still slick from tasting you, his tongue dragging over yours like he needs more of you in every way.

You can feel how hard he is now, pressed between your thighs. It’s driving you crazy—every movement, every breath just making it worse. Still kissing you, he breaks just long enough to whisper, breathless, “Need to be inside you, baby. Can’t wait anymore.” You nod, dazed, still catching your breath. Jake shifts back, and in one smooth motion, he pushes his shorts and boxers down, finally freeing his cock. You can’t help the soft gasp that leaves your lips, and Jake smirks through heavy breaths. He leans down again to kiss you, while his hand slides up your thigh. Then suddenly, he grabs one of your legs, lifting it over his shoulder. His other hand cups your breast, fingers squeezing, thumb brushing softly over your nipple as he lines himself up. “Look at me,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with heat. You do. And then he slides in. Slow at first, inch by inch, until he’s buried deep inside you, your walls fluttering around him. You moan his name, back arching off the bed.

Jake’s jaw clenches, his hand tightening on your thigh. “Fuck, baby…” he groans, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “You feel—so good—fuck.” His hips start to move, deep, rolling thrusts that drag every inch of him along your soaked walls. He keeps your leg hooked over his shoulder, the angle letting him hit every sweet spot, his other hand still cupping your breast like he can’t get enough. “So perfect…so tight for me—fuck!” he pants, voice all praise and heat. You moan louder, nails digging into his arms as he starts to pick up the pace—hips slapping against yours, breath hot and ragged, all while he keeps watching your face like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Jake’s rhythm starts to falter, his hips snapping faster, rougher, his breathing growing messier with each thrust. His brows are furrowed, lips parted, hair falling into his eyes as he fucks you like he’s starved for it.

“Oh my god—fuck,” he moans, head dropping forward. “You feel so fucking good, baby—shit, you’re so tight—oh fuck—” The way he says it, so breathless, whimpering, makes your whole body react. Your walls clench down around him instinctively, squeezing him hard, and it pulls another choked moan straight from his throat. His voice breaks again. “Ohhh fuck—just like that—holy shit—” He sounds so good. Ruined. Wrecked. Like he’s completely unraveling inside you. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, gasping for air, thighs trembling as he pounds into you deep and fast, hitting that perfect spot with every stroke. Then he brings his hand down, finding your clit like he knows exactly what you need. His fingers are messy, fast, rubbing tight circles in sync with his thrusts. You cry out, arching under him, clutching at his biceps as he holds himself over you and keeps fucking you through it. “Jakey—!” you sob, voice high and desperate. He groans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard. “That’s it, baby,” he pants, kissing your jaw, your neck. “Come on—cum for me again—please, I need to feel it—need to feel you fall apart on me.”

You’re so close, your legs starting to shake, your fingers gripping him like a lifeline, your moans breaking into breathless little whimpers. And all you can hear is him—moaning, gasping, whimpering, praising you like he’s gone completely stupid from how good you feel. Your whole body locks up as that final wave crashes over you—tight and hot and overwhelming. You cry out his name, legs shaking, back arching as you cum hard around him, fluttering and pulsing deep on his cock. Jake chokes on a moan—high, broken, wrecked. “Fuuuck—so good—so fucking good, baby, oh my god—” He pulls out just in time, gritting his teeth through a loud, desperate groan as he fists himself and spills all over your pussy and thighs—sticky, thick ropes of cum painting your skin while his hips twitch and his breath catches in short, ragged pants. He collapses forward slightly, chest rising and falling, eyes still glazed with pleasure. Then his gaze drops down, seeing the mess he made of you, and he groans again, softer this time, like it’s too much to handle. “Shit,” he breathes. “You’re so fucking perfect…” He leans in and kisses you slow and warm. His hand brushes your cheek before moving to the nightstand, grabbing some tissue from a pack you kept there. “I got you” he murmurs. You hum softly as he wipes you clean—gentle, patient, still pressing soft kisses to your collarbone, your shoulder, anywhere his mouth can reach. And when he’s done, he tosses the tissues aside and crawls back into bed, settling in beside you. He wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you into his chest like he has to keep you close. You feel his breath in your hair, slow and steady now. His hands finds your waist, his thumb stroking lazily over your skin. Then he whispers, barely audible in the dark, “I’m yours…I’m not going anywhere.”

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midnite-c6 · 2 days ago

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WAIIT you should write namgyu and myunggi!! I love that broke bum baby daddy

i support this motion. first thing i thought of when i watched ep. 2

⊂⁠*⁠.⁠✧ you're myung-gi's "one and only", but oh no! looks like he's willing to do some teamwork on you...

warnings: 18+, DARK CONTENT, hate sex, double penetration, threesome, mysoginistic!nam-gyu & myung-gi x fem!reader, degradation, rough, noncon || ∆

⊂*⁠.⁠✧ myung-gi promises you, with all his heart, he'd find you. to compensate for whatever absence he had made you feel in the past, to compensate the love that he had neglected you of. but maybe you're the piece of shit one! for not accepting his apologies. for not forgiving him and letting him love you. for not letting him use you again.

it was cut-throat— two simple directions. he'd kill one person to pass, then he'd be running straight back to protect you. you said that he shouldn't, that he should fucking leave you alone because you can handle yourself. deep down, you are waiting for him. unbeknownst to you though, the drug addict offered up a proposal to team-up with myung-gi! two unstoppable forces. maybe this really shows what myung-gi's morality's truly like, he was destined to be partnered up with people like nam-gyu.

myung-gi was quiet most of the time, only breaking his silence by saying something useful. nam-gyu on the otherhand was unbearably talkative, "hey, man, you tryin' to find your girl?" myung-gi knows better than to respond. nam-gyu would nudge his shoulders, "you are. figures, she alone?" there's nothing meaningful to reply to that, nam-gyu doesn't care, he'll continue to talk and talk and talk, tilting his head to the side, curious-like...

"she's cute. really cute. perky tits, glossy eyes." myung-gi freezes, adjusting his knife to threaten nam-gyu's neck. "don't fucking dare," nam-gyu has no dignity left in him anymore, doesn't even show any sense of fear. "when's the last time you complimented her? maybe that's why ya’ two aren't gettin' along-" "i said fuck. off." the blade of his sword would touch the other guy's neck. nam-gyu pouts, whining in a mocking tone: "aww, but that's what's happening, right? i heard you two fightin', she doesn't wanna be with you, bro."

myung-gi stops walking, stops doing anything altogether, furrowed brows and a heart full of burden. was it wrong to think you were such a bitch? he was doing everything for you! "you're mad." nam-gyu snickers, "yeah, i am. fucking frustrated she won't get me."

"we can get her back, you know?" "what do you mean we?"

"we, take our anger out on her, works like a charm." he doesn't acknowledge myung-gi's question, "that bitch pisses me off too much, talks about how i'm crazy. she's crazy for not letting you help her— stupid, even." while myung-gi gives ideas for better teamwork ethic in hide and seek, nam-gyu gives the best ideas for shit like this. "i was kinda thinkin' of... hm... putting her in her place?"

"it wouldn't be that hard, i don't think... you've already gotten her knocked up!" he adds as he giggles to himself, like that was the most intellectual statement in the world. it takes everything not to shove the knife he was holding right through his chest, but myung-gi was easy to convince, to corrupt, maybe you do need to be put in your place.

when you hide by yourself, not looking to run into anyone but myung-gi, you find a small room with colorful drawings painted all over the walls. this was the best thing you could do, running constantly would only make you tired. though, after a few minutes, you hear nam-gyu's voice in the distance, player 124, someone you know you should stay away from. your breath hitches, hand covering your mouth so you wouldn't make a single sound, yet, you also hear myung-gi's voice. myung-gi! maybe he'd be able to save you from nam-gyu!

myung-gi pushes the door open, seeing you eye to eye. his expression softens for a second, before glaring at you, remembering what he wants to do. he slowly walks inside, looking down at you, with an unfamiliar look on his face. "i... myung-gi... careful, i heard nam-gyu's just right down-" nam-gyu would step in, ironically, speaking of the devil. "me? awh, she's thinking of me." myung-gi would grab the collar of your shirt, pulling you closer to him.

"what the- myung-gi." you call out, "you taking drugs too?" nam-gyu would take the hit from the comment, speaking just a few feet away from you, "that all you can say? you're so shallow... jeez... what a woman."

"shush, can you listen to me for once?" myung-gi reasons, but you were so stubborn! "what? what do you want from me again, myung-gi?" "you're fucking ungrateful." he pins you against the wall, two men who have knives were apparently teaming up on you, what else were you supposed to do???

"myung-gi- what are you doing-" he fake-pouts, like how you do whenever he asks for forgiveness. "oh? so now you wanna act weak? you've been tellin' me all this time that you can handle yourself." nam-gyu slides right behind you, "fuuck, tell her, bro!" hands immediately sliding underneath your shirt and on-top of your chest. you yelp. "myung-gi! he's—" he shushes you. "take off her clothes," nam-gyu would immediately do as he was told, he was also the one benefiting from it anyway. "you. don't say a word, unless i tell you to, copy that?" "what the fuck, myung-gi!" he'd grip your jaw, "can't your little brain follow orders? don't speak. simple." "or you die...!" the one behind you adds, you could only whine in response.

with your clothes lying on the floor, you feel filthy, for being sandwiched by the two men, one you barely even know, naked. "she likes this," he looks you in the eye, like he knows what you're going through and makes fun of you. "don't you?" myung-gi smiles, revelling in your defeat. you're not sure if you should respond to that or not. "she's making that face, means she's into this, disgusting shit like this." nam-gyu would gasp in amazement, smiling as he continues to grope your tits and occasionally flicking your clit. "really? told you. told you i'm an expert at what women like."

"myung-gi, please-" "you'll get what i can give you. no more special shit. i've been offering you everything and you're taking it all for granted. you should know by now you're gonna get what i choose to give you." it seems he was done, so genuinely pissed off at how you were treating him, despite how he was treating you just as bad and if not worse! you should stay away from self-absorbed men, but fuck, did a dick feel good. you'd probably get pregnant right now if you weren't already.

so there you were: the father of your child right infront of you, dick sliding in a rhythm inside your shamefully throbbing pussy, trying to match nam-gyu's pace. his left hand still gripping your jaw to look at him and only him. you whine with tears staining your cheeks, looking up at myung-gi like you were sorry. maybe occasionally looking at nam-gyu. "don't look at that jerk, or i'll make this harder for you." his other hand presses against your lower stomach, he knows you liked that. that's why he got you knocked up in the first place.

nam-gyu's warm breath would tickle against your skin, licking the back of your ear, "don't listen to him- he doesn't treat you right— ain't that correct?" nam-gyu's dick also filling up your other hole was too overstimulating, you weren't used to this at all, the way they coaxed you. both his hands were leaving prints on your ass and waist. "don't- fucking- mess with us, with your silly words," "the only thing sweet about you is your holes. sweetheart." that fucking lunatic's laugh ringing in your ear, you didn't wanna moan because a drug addict was fucking you senseless. or because a drug addict and your supposed husband was fucking you at the same time.

"please- i- myung-gi, forgive me...hn..!" it was so hard to speak without doing it though, moaning would mean they felt good, they felt amazing. that they'd be motivated to go on and on... "keep on begging, fuck, you- you're fucking heartless, for making me so stressed and worried about you-" they both continue to thrust and thrust, unstoppable, with all the adrenaline of murder and sex, they could go for hours if the game didn't have a time limit! "yeah... you shouldn't... treat your boyfriend like that- fuck, you're so tight-" "m'sorry- i'm really sorry.. myung-gi.. nam-gy-" myung-gi slaps your mouth, "not him. don't forget who you belong to." "i'm sorry!" you whimpered out. he's suddenly turned all strict on you... :(

you'd guess they had this all figured out, you don't know when they did. when you'd check the timer, there was still 20 minutes left! 20. long. minutes.

"for now on you're gonna be a good little tool for us until the finale..., we'll take it as an apology." "for- for us?" "me and him. i think two dicks’ just enough for a slut like you."

ts is sum freakshit . ✓✓✓ is it me or when myung-gi got meaner he got hotter. like THAT'S whats wrong with me. & dae-ho too... WHO SAID THAT

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papallion · 2 days ago

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General

Where can your Tav be recruited? Are they first encountered on the Nautiloid, or in the Nautiloid crash region? Or are they not recruitable until a later act?

Mærzeran Tav’Stra can be found near the doors to Jergal’s Shrine, hiding in the shade. You can see him sleeping in a pod in the room you wake up in, and if you go back before crashing the ship his pod is open. He can be recruited by giving him a blindfold and telling him you’re forming a group. As a caravan worker he understands safety in numbers.

Do the other companions have special comments or reactions upon recruiting your Tav?

Most comment on how tiny he is as a Drow - “Are you ALL that small?” except Astarion, who thinks it’s delightful to be traveling with someone well-versed in poisons. He asks if Mærz knows Drizzt Do’Urden.

Karlach calls him a mini murder machine, and Laz’zel respects his quickness to jump to violence.

Does your Tav have any comments or advice when you recruit other companions?

He is suspicious of Shadowheart, but she keeps her secrets and he respects that.

He doesn’t trust Astarion, thinking him to be a szarkai at first, then “just kinda... odd.” He does not mention he can see Astarion’s lack of body heat, not thinking it THAT important. He also doesn’t trust Halsin at first, since he’s also kinda weird.

Wyll and Karlach are too friendly and he doesn’t trust them, but Lae’zel is violent and he respects that.

Gale, however, offers to feed him and is fine in Mærz’s book.

What sort of general actions raise or lower their approval?

Mærz is a team player and actions that help the group over individuals get his approval fastest. Letting him kill Zhents are defacing their property, and taking mercenary jobs also increases it. Giving away resources or interacting with religious icons (religious trauma) lowers approval, as does being Transphovic.

Are there any instances where your Tav can permanently leave the party, depending on player character actions?

Offering to sell him to the Zhents, and not letting him kill the Zhents,greatly diminishes approval. There is a special scene when entering the Underdark through the Zhent hideout where you can argue with him and he goes off to find his own way back to his caravan. He will later be found dead near Moonrise Towers. A speak with dead spell will have him explain he was lured to the shadow cursed lands where he argued with Kar’Niss and was killed.

Do they have any secrets that can be revealed? What are the prerequisites for this secret coming to light?

Mærz is Trans - not a big deal on the surface, but in the Underdark can be a death sentence - since he’s now the third son. He can be snuck up on at night while bathing three separate times, and you can ignore him, watch him, or offer to join him. Watching him drives him off, ignoring him does nothing, offering to join him then engaging positively with his Transness increases approval.

Do they have their own personal quest that spans the course of the game? Can it take different branching paths depending on the choices the Player Character makes?

Mærz is part of a caravan team, the Sons of Nothing. Along the trip you can find items belonging to the team, like Hunn’s prayer beads. Find enough and you can unlock an area in Baldur’s Gate the Sons have camped at and meet them. Mærz explains about the tadpole and that he needs to finish this job, and the Sons give him Minune’s Edge, his enchanted dagger. Each item you find brings that Son to the final battle.

What do they say when the Player Character asks them to stay in camp? How about when the Player Character asks them to come adventuring again?

Mærz sulks but readily agrees to stay to protect the camp. When asked to go with you he asks who will guard the camp, and agrees to guard the party.

Does your Tav have any escalating conflicts with one of the other companions, like Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s knife-fight?

He and Minthara will not get along, and you can lose approval with Mærz by praising Minthara during conversations. Once Minthara learns he’s Trans she’s extra hard on him since he CHOOSES to be male. By the third act they don’t hate each other and Minthara realizes she’s been Transphobic and improves her way.

Are there any unique NPCs associated with your Tav that can show up during the course of the game?

There is a Zhent trader that Mærz runs in to from time to time who mocks Mærz. Seeing her means there’s a relic of a Son nearby. (Crakcmallet’s repair kit, Hunn’s prayer beads, Cuda’s instrument, Blain’s carving knife, Asphodel’s amethyst earing, Granz’s marked poker cards, and Trill’s circlet.)

Are there any moments in the game that trigger unique dialogue for your character? (Like Gale’s anecdote about the barfight after you save the goblin prisoner)

After the bullete fight Mærz lists the ways to eat and uses for bulletes, After dealing with some merchants Mærz will talk about being a caravan trader. Sometimes finding broken down wagons will make him critique the setup.

Story Specific

How does your Tav advise the player character when it comes to the Dream Visitor?

“Underdark 101 - do NOT listen to the voices. I don’t trust the visitor.”

How do they advise the player character on Raphael?

“Look, without going into detail, I KNOW about these things. DO NOT mess with this guy. We’re walking away.” Pressing the subject drops some approval but he reveals he is from a noble house and has never seen a deal go the way his matron wanted it, even it if looked like she won.

How do they react to Astarion biting the Player Character?

“Well, that explains why his body temperature is so low. I guess that’s NOT normal after all.”

How do they react to the Player Character letting Abdirak whip them?

“What’s the big deal? Oh, you’re taking your, yeah, OK, that's fine. Have fun!”

How do they react to the Player Character taking their first tadpole power?

“Look. LOOK. Just, I’m not gonna stop you, but I want to. Do NOT mess with these things, OK?”

Will they stay with the Player Character regardless of siding with the goblins or the tieflings, or is it possible for them to leave the party permanently?

Mærz stays no matter the choice. He doesn’t like goblins (racist) so you get more approval with the tieflings. He doesn’t care about the tieflings, either, but he doesn’t hate them like he does goblins.

What can they be found doing at the tiefling/goblin party?

Maers plays a lute for fun. For the goblins he sings a song about killing goblins, but with the tieflings he sings The Ballad of the Renegade, a song about Drizzt Do’Urden.

Do they have comments on who the Player Character chooses to spend the night with?

Mærz doesn’t care, he’s asexual and doesn’t want to hear about it.

Do they have unique dialogue if the Player Character lets them die when they steal the Blood of Lathander?

“I thought we were teammates! You don’t let mates die! I would have tried to save you! Oh, I’m so mad at you now!” You lose approval.

How do they react if the PC licks the dead spider in the Gauntlet of Shar?

“Really? You’re just... gonna... yeah, OK, look, I’m Drow. And I think that’s gross. And you’ve seen Drow food.”

What do they say if the PC tries to force them to go up on stage with Dribbles the Clown?

“I’m not used to being on stage without a lute, you know.”

Is it possible for your Tav to be kidnapped and replaced by Orin? How is Orin's deception revealed? How do they react to the PC rescuing them in the Temple of Bhaal?

Mærz can be kidnapped. You find it’s him when he refuses to eat poison. He’s grateful to have been rescued, viewing it as a team building thing.

How do they react to the PC either allowing Astarion to ascend or convincing him to spare the 7000 spawn?

Mærz doesn’t want Astarion to ascend - but he also doesn’t want 7K spawn in his home in the Underdark. He’s conflicted.

How does Tav react to the PC becoming a mind flayer? Can they offer to become one themselves? Does their reaction change if they’re romanced?

He’s turned off and breaks off the romance; he said from the beginning that he doesn’t trust mind flayers or the parasites.

How do they react when the Dark Urge first reveals their amnesia and murderous thoughts to them?

He understands intrusive thoughts, and appreciates DU not acting on them.

How do they react to the Dark Urge killing Alfira?

He’s angry since she was a teammate, and the team is everything.

If romanced, how do they react to the Dark Urge trying to kill them in Act 2?

He’s insulted, but also understands in a weird way. He’s a Drow. He’s pragmatic about things like this.

Romance

Is your Tav a romanceable character? Are there any specific requirements to romancing them?

Mærz is romanceable after discovering he’s Trans.

Does your Tav need to be flirted with to start the romance, or will they approach the PC themselves if approval is high enough?

You need to flirt then SPECIFICALLY state you’re interested. Otherwise Mærz won’t get that you’re flirting.

Are they a polyamorous or a monogamous option?

Polyamorous.

Do they have a special romance scene at the tiefling/goblin party?

Before discovering he’s Trans you can ask to spend time with him, but he isn’t expecting romance and asks you to explain the stars. He comments that people think all Drow are sex fiends and willing to lay down on the first night, but that’s jut true. After discovering he’s Trans you can flirt and go on a walking date, but he isn’t interested in sex yet.

Does the romance have different branching paths, or just one route to take?

You can keep the romance as a non-sexual relationship, just going on dates and doing fun things, or at the beginning of the third act you can bed him. with high enough approval. After turning the relationship sexual he’ll introduce Crackmallet and Hunn as “they’re kinda my parents.” Either way to Sons sell you goods at a discount.

How do they react to the player character breaking up with them, or choosing another character over them?

Mærz is insulted at first, but recovers quickly if you chose someone over him. He offers polygamy. He doesn’t understand why you don’t want him. The Sons are colder towrds you and charge higher prices.

What questions can Zethino ask the PC about Tav in the Love Test?

How does Mærz feel about settling down in a house? (He doesn’t, he’s a caravan man and nomadic merchant.) Does he want children? (No, he can’t get pregnant since he eats so much poison a fetus would not survive, and he doesn’t want to be pregnant, anyways.)

If they’re poly, do they have a reaction to the PC engaging in a relationship with Halsin?

Mærz expresses concern - “You realized I’m small, right? I come up to his armpit? That this might be an issue, yes?” You can assure him he doesn’t have to sleep with Halsin, or they can just get creative. terasing him lowers approval. “You don’t have to sleep with him, you know.” “Oh, yeah, this is an option, yeah...”

How do they react if the PC has sex with Mizora? The Emperor? Haarlep?

“Sleeping with devils is neither a challenge nor a good idea. Sleeping with mind flayers’ is not a good idea. There was an entire house in Menzo that proved that was a bad idea.” For Harleep they express sorrow that your peace of mind is violated. He offers to find a way to help you fix it after this is over.

Will they join in with the PC and the Drow Twins, or no?

If you’re not sleeping with Mærz, no, he will not join. If you are, it’s implied he enjoys himself while you have both twins.

What are Tav’s plans for the future? Do they propose to the PC, or is marriage not something they’re interested in?

Mærz returns to his caravan. If unromanced, he goes alone. If chaste romanced, he asks you to come with him. If sexually romanced, he’s upset if you don’t go with him, but he still returns to his caravan.

Free space! Share anything from your companion!Tav au!

Mærz is about teamwork and acting as a unit. As an Underdark caravan worker he needs to trust his team and they rely on him in order to survive, so he’ll tolerate a lot of bullshit in the name of the team.

Baldur's Gate 3 Companion!Tav Ask List

What if your Tav was a recruitable companion, instead of the main character? (contains major spoilers for the game, and for some dark urge runs as well)