#dbf!jake seresin x reader

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Just one thought: aftercare with dbf!Jake (I feel like he'd be so good at it🥺)

because he WOULD!! this man is in his fourties, he's studied that shit!

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

Your body feels like jelly. Your limbs are all jelly. Your stomach is jelly and your head is jelly too. Everything is jelly. And it's so heavy. The air is so fucking heavy.

Not in a bad way, of course - oh no, not in a bad way.

You feel relaxed. You are relaxed. Wholly and completely relaxed. A smile stretches on your lips as fingertips run softly up and down your side. Slowly, you blink open your eyes.

"You good there, darlin'?", Jake mutters, his voice laced with heady thickness that wraps itself around your body and warms your heart.

"Yeah", you breathe and draw your hands carefully away from his shoulders to stretch. Jake smiles, drops a kiss to your lips and then sits back on his ankles. God, he looks heavenly. You've messed his hair up completely, there's a faint blush on his cheeks and his skin is glinting with sweat in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

"I'll be back in a minute", he says, climbing off the bed, his steps echoeing through the room as he disappears inside the bathroom. You let out a pleased sigh and roll onto your side - the bed is so warm and comfortable and oh, you could just fall asleep now. Your eyes flutter shut all by themselves. You draw your hands up, settle them snugly under your cheek and breathe in deeply. The bed smells like him. Everything smells like him.

Then he drops a kiss onto your hair.

"Turn back for me, darling", he mutters quietly, his voice so close to your ear that it sends a shiver down your spine. "I need to clean you off."

"I'm fine", you mumble sleepily, slurring your words into his pillow.

He presses a kiss to your temple and runs his hand up your arm - coaxing you, you realise, to do what he'd asked. You snuggle further back, further into him immediately - and oh god, it's working already.

"C'mon, darling", he urges softly, his fingertips brushing over your skin so pleasantly that he tears a small sigh right from your tongue. "Turn around for me."

You don't want to move. You really don't want to move. But you've got to, you have to when he's asking - because he's not really asking anyway, he's giving you one of those soft orders that pull at you like you're his marionette, tugging at your limbs and turning you around before your mind can even comprehend that you're rolling over.

"That's it", Jake praises, his hand already smoothing down your thigh, parting your legs for him and brushing the washcloth you hadn't noticed before down your skin.

It's not even cold. He'd let the water run long enough to turn warm.

If you were far enough in your relationship by now, maybe... maybe they would've slipped past your lips, those three magical words, in this honey-dunked, golden dream of a moment. But you're not, so you just settle back against the mattress, blink open your eyes and reach out for him, satisfying yourself with brushing your fingers down his face.

"Jake", you mutter as he pulls the washcloth away. "If you leave me again, I will scream. So put that thing on the bedside table."

He chuckles, but drops the washcloth on the bedside table like you wanted, tugs the blanket up over your body and settles down next to you.

"Haven't screamed enough yet, darling?", he asks with a grin, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you onto his chest. You rest a palm against his skin, snuggle close and breathe in deeply.

"Shut up", you mumble. And then, just for good measure, you hook a leg over his and inch even closer.

#x reader #jake seresin x reader #dbf!jake seresin x reader #dbf!jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #hangman x reader

[sunlightmurdock]

Hey, Neighbour! | DBF!Jake Seresin x Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Jake’s been having a problem recently, and when the power goes out next door, everything quickly comes to a head.

Warnings: dad’s best friend trope. Age gap. Reader is in her mid-20s, Jake’s around 40. Obviously unbalanced power dynamic. No use of Y/N. Reader’s dad has a name. Mention of reader having a piercing. Smut. Pure filth and pining. Smut. Oral (f receiving). Unprotected pinv. Creampie. Jake has no respect for his best friend’s furniture. Choking briefly. Please comment / Reblog, it’s greatly appreciated. Wc: 8.5k. Minors dni, you will be blocked.

…

Jake clicks the television off and pushes himself up from the couch, joined by his shadow of a German shepherd called Ace. They walk together to the sound of the meek little knock at his front door, Jake’s gym socks padding along his dark wood floors along the way.

It’s late. Too late for whoever is at his front door to be bearing good news. He twists the door handle and pulls it open, rolling back his aching shoulders. This late at night, he has a good idea of who’s going to be standing on his porch.

As expected, standing there and shivering in your dad’s coat and a pair of slippers, is exactly the last person that Jake was hoping to see.

You see, Jake has had a bit of a problem since he moved in to this neighbourhood.

Quite a substantial one, in the grand scheme of things, and one that seems to just be getting worse by the minute.

Suburbia was meant to be Jake’s reprieve from his bachelor lifestyle. His escapades have been worrying his mother to death for going on two decades now, and it came time that even Jake agreed that it was time to wisen up about his love life. With all of the deployments, and all of the time away from home, it had been beyond easy to never fall into anything serious. By the time he was twenty-nine, Jake’s longest ever relationship was two and a half months, which was alarming given the number of women he had encountered by then.

Two things happened that sent Jake here, to this cute little cul-de-sac in suburban San Diego, one — Jake’s job became more secure, and guaranteed that he would spend at least ninety percent of his remaining career here on the west coast. Second, he proposed to a woman. A beautiful woman, that he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

She liked his house, it looked like the one her parents had raised her in. So, he bought the house and he bought a dog, and swore that he was going to try to settle down. Six months later, it was just him and the dog. Payton apologised profusely, and she’d apologise even more if he ever ran into her again, he just wasn’t right for her.

Things weren’t so bad though. Jake and Ace liked the peace and quiet, and the guy next door was actually pretty cool. Jack, the airline pilot with a mean golf swing and a great nose for the best sports bars in town. He’s a little older than Jake, with a hell of a lot more to show for it, including three grown up kids.

It’s been a couple of years now, and Jake’s practically part of the family. He knows everything there is to know. He’s there on birthdays, holidays, emergencies — he loves this family. But he has a problem.

His problem was manageable at first. So, Jack’s youngest daughter might have caught Jake’s attention at first. You were visiting home from college and you had stepped out of the car in a tight little pair of shorts and a tank top, and Jake just happened to be standing in Jack’s garage, helping him with a little project, when he first saw you.

And you were funny. Right away cracking some joke about Jake’s less than adept approach to projects around the house. Jake had laughed out loud without even meaning to, and then you’d turned your head and hit him with that mega-watt smile. Bringing new meaning to the term beaming.

God, that pretty fucking smile.

Your humour dances lightly on the nerves of others, like Jake’s, but sweeter. You’re well behaved and back then you had had a dreamy boyfriend who was in pre-med. Perfect in every way.

Even more reason for Jake to keep his hands to himself.

You were Jack’s kid. Jake wouldn’t ever cross that line. It’s just that sometimes… he had to remind himself of this boundary.

He hadn’t ever been close friends with someone where that was even a concern, and truthfully, he had been unprepared for meeting you. In all of the stories Jack told him, you were this cute little kid. Standing before him, you didn’t quite match the image he had of you in his head. This was truly uncharted territory.

Truth be told, there were times when Jake wasn’t so sure you wanted him to hang back. Even when you were still bringing that boyfriend of yours around, Jake caught the way you looked at him.

The way you tug those glossed lips between your teeth and grin around the straw of your drink.

If he was a better friend, or a stronger man, he might have been able to nip his little problem in the bud right away. He had tried, and you were living away from home then, so it was easier. But last month, you had moved back in with your parents and Jake’s life has been nothing but stress ever since.

On occasion, Jake thinks of how he would have to plead his case if someone discovered how he felt. You just don’t know what it’s like when she’s looking at me, man. I swear, I tried to stay away from her, I did.

It’s not his fault that Jack asked him to watch you while your folks were away on that cruise.

Jake’s gaze finally flickers back up to your wounded, hurt baby bunny, expression.

“What’s the matter, cutie? — You alright?” He reaches for you with one hand, gently grabbing at the crook of your elbow and guiding you towards him. That sad little look on your face tugs at his heart strings every time.

“Yeah, I just — I plugged in my phone charger and all the lights went out. I think I tripped a fuse,” All exasperated and frustrated at once, you push your hair back off of your face and frown at him. “Could you come take a look at it for me?”

Jake’s throat grows thick. Under your dad’s heavy work coat, Jake can see the thin white tank top you’re wearing and the blue checkered, boxer style pyjama shorts. But Jack asked him to take care of you.

“Yeah. Of course I can,” Jake nods his head and reaches down to tug at Ace’s black woven collar. “Come in a sec. I just need some shoes.”

There haven’t been too many occasions where you have been inside Jake’s place. Your dad comes here a lot and you’ve been sent over to collect him before dinner on occasion, or to deliver Jake some leftovers.

It’s warm inside, and it smells like woodsmoke and leather. He’s been burning the candle that you got him for his last birthday. You inhale softly, shrugging the coat closer to your body.

In the times that you have been over here, you’re always surprised by how tidy he keeps the place. It’s not what you would have expected of a single guy living all alone.

Jake pulls some sneakers from a tidy shoe organizer disguised to look like an end table and crouches down to put them on his feet. Leaning over, something catches his eye between the heavy fleece of your dad’s unzipped work jacket.

“Did you get your bellybutton pierced?”

The question startles you, drawing attention to the fact that you had been craning your neck and trying to get a look into Jake’s living room. You turn your head, blinking as Jake straightens up and takes a step towards you.

He reaches out and before you know it, his warm fingers are stretching out across your chilled, just exposed navel. His thumb brushes over your soft skin, brows drawing together as he examines the dainty jewelry pushed through your skin.

Swiftly, you take a step back and his hand drops away from your body. “I’ve had it for years.”

There’s a silence between the two of you. Jake’s going to be kicking himself for that for weeks to come. He shouldn’t have reached out and touched you like that. He shouldn’t be commenting on things your father wouldn’t approve of. You’re too grown up for that.

“Huh,” He clicks his tongue, reaching just past your side to grab his house keys from the dish by the door. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go take a look at those lights.”

The shuffle of your slippers cuts through the awkward silence as you cross Jake’s front yard and into yours. It’s late November, and a cold night in particular too. Standing in just a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, the evening chill makes Jake’s arm hair stand on end. As you walk ahead, your back to him, Jake wonders if it has the same effect on you.

Thinking about his best friend’s daughter’s tits. He wishes the shame alone was enough to knock the thought out of his head. He wishes you hadn’t moved home. He wishes you weren’t leading him into your dark, empty house right now.

The entire house is pitch black, but Jake tests the hallway lightswitch in passing anyway. He notes the dubious look you shoot him back over your shoulder. Then, he passes by you as you stop to take off that big coat. It’s not something he wants to hang by and watch.

It’s cold as his shoulder brushes yours, and not just because it’s November. You swallow thickly, staring after him until he disappears into the dark. Your feelings towards Jake are complicated.

Well, they’re not. Your crush on him isn’t the innocent middle school crush that you used to have on an older figure, like a teacher. No, this is far from doodling his name in your journal. This man, and his thick, ridged abs and golden chest hair, is working his way into your dreams.

After the break-up, you had sworn off men for a while — and that was the right decision for you. But, it left certain parts of you yearning. And Jake’s right next door. From your bedroom window, you’ve got the perfect view into his backyard. The same backyard where he’ll work out in the blazing heat, sweat glistening along his tanned skin, along the ridges and valleys of his muscles.

No, this crush is far from innocent. It crossed the border into indecent weeks ago, the first time that you touched yourself thinking about him. It wasn’t your fault; he was tempting you.

You had returned home from work to find Jake hanging out in the living room with your father, not unusual, and you had joined the two of them. Your dad had started with a playful comment about Jake. Jake had returned the favour with a witty remark about your dad. You were just joining in on the fun, poking playfully at Jake’s age.

All too suddenly, he had turned sharply to you and pinched the soft skin between your ribs and hip, leaning dangerously close with a smirk on his face that made your head spin. In fact, you still remember the way your mouth had hung open as Jake had breathed out a chuckle and shot you that playfully warning look.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He’d challenged, that eager look in those wild green eyes, his cheeks dimpling just slightly, fingers pressing into your side.

Since then, you can’t help but think of him closer, and closer.

“Jake, wait!” You call, dropping the coat onto a hook and kicking off your slippers, starting to rush after him. Jake cranes his neck to look back at you over his shoulder. “You should probably show me what you’re doing. Y’know, in case it happens again.”

“Sure. Come here,” Jake jerks his head for you to join him, extending his hand for you in the dark of the utility room. You swat around until your fingers graze his, falling silent at the brash way he grabs hold of your hand and drags you closer. Your ass briefly brushes his thigh as he guides you in front of him. Jake steps back, clearing his throat. The little red dot on the fuse box illuminates his fingertips as he reaches past you. “This is the switch you want, don’t mess with anything else or your dad’ll kill you.”

The corners of your lips twitch. There are plenty of things your dad would be furious with, if he knew you had done them.

Jake’s fingers curl around the switch. His cologne fills your nose. His massive bicep is inches from your cheek, and everything feels like electric as his other hand comes to rest on the bare space between your shirt and your shorts. You’re trapped between him and the wall in front. If you would push your hips back just an inch or two…

“So, you flip the switch off to reset it,” Jake’s voice is all gravel from yelling at the young pilots he instructs, and shouting over the top of loud music in bars. It drifts past your ears and makes you want to shiver as his fingers curl around the plush of your hip. “And then you flip it back on for the power.”

Suddenly, the lights come back on in the hall outside of the utility room. Jake’s got you cornered against the fuse box really, and with the washer and dryer to your side, the only escape would be to rush out into the hall. You’re not quite ready to make that move. You can hear the amusement in his voice. He can feel the way you’re burning with awkward embarrassment in front of him.

“Oh.” You say quietly. Jake chuckles from behind you, his hand trailing about an inch higher, taking some of the fabric from your tank top with it, pinching playfully at your newly exposed waist.

“Happy to help, kid.” He’s already drawing back, his hand pulling away from your electrified skin, the sound of his shoe hitting the floor and alerting you to the fact that he’ll be leaving before you even know it.

“Could I ask you for one more favour?” You turn to face him, biting sheepishly on your bottom lip.

“Sure. What is it?” He’d retile your entire bathroom for you if you asked him to. That’s what makes him wish he was a better friend.

There’s an art to the way you bat your lashes at him, knowing better than to get too close or put your hands on him. Just that deep, pleading look in your eyes is more than enough. “Will you finish watching my scary movie with me? — Kinda… freaked me out a little bit when the lights went out, is all.”

“… Yeah. Yeah, I guess I can hang out for a little.” You’re a good kid, and it’s just a movie. He can’t leave you over here all by yourself, scared out of your mind, now, can he?

Jake wonders if this is what your father had in mind when he had asked his most trusted friend to just be there for his daughter while they were away.

That same, trusted best friend, sitting on the couch with his chin propped up against his palm, and that daughter’s head resting against his shoulder. You could have sat over on the other end of the couch, or even in your dad’s armchair, but that defeats the purpose of asking Jake to stay.

“Fill me in. What am I missing here?” Jake asks, mostly to fill the silence. His arm stretches along the back of your couch, his knees parted obnoxiously and his neck awkwardly straight to minimise risk of him laying his head against yours.

Your hand comes to rest against his middle, eyes focused calmly on the screen. “So there are two timelines. The present, and flashbacks to like… maybe ten years ago. Ten years ago, the family bought this mirror, and…”

Jake’s fingers inch their way into your hair, trailing softly over your scalp. Your fingers brush over his middle as he massages your scalp. He listens to you explain the plot of the movie like he isn’t thinking about the way your nipples are pressing through the white fabric of your tank top.

“Freaky mirror…” Jake muses over the concept of the plot, squinting his eyes at the screen, his fingers slowing to a halt in your hair as he turns his head to look at you. “You gonna be able to sleep okay tonight if we watch this?”

You meet him back with a sheepish grin and an innocent shrug of your shoulders. “Well, I already started, so I need to see that it ends okay, or I’ll be freaked out.”

“Alright. Just making sure you’re not gonna try crawling into my bed tonight after you have a nightmare.” Jake teases, pushing his knees further apart and sinking down into the comfort of the grey fabric couch he helped the movers bring in here last August.

He didn’t push you away when you sat right next to him and curled against his side. He reached out himself and stroked his fingers along your stomach.

Confidence surges through you like a wave, swelling big enough for you to giggle and press closer to him. “Come on, would that be such a bad thing?”

“What did you say?”

The swell has passed and the wave crashes just like all the others do, breaking over an otherwise calm sea. You swallow softly, growing exceptionally still.

“I was just kidding—“

Jake’s fingers leave your hair and curl instead around the nape of your neck. He turns his head, attempting to get a look at your face. “No, no. Say it again. What did you say?”

You shake your head, pressing it closer against his toned stomach. “I was just joking. You wouldn’t mind it that much if I had a bad dream and had to come sleep in your bed.”

He’s quiet for a moment and the movie draws tense. The main character is creeping around in the dark, the music is building, and Jake’s far too quiet for your liking.

“Don’t joke about that.” Jake says quietly.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You answer him, hugging your cheek into the dark fabric of his t-shirt. That way, there’s no chance of him seeing the shame on your face. Going after your dad’s best friend— you should be ashamed of yourself.

Jake rubs a palm over the stubble on his jaw, trying to focus on the screen in front of him. This movie can’t possibly take much longer.

He knows he has upset you. You’re uncharacteristically quiet, and he can feel you trying to sit still. He shifts his hips a little, reaching out and resting his palm against your waist.

Your brows draw together as the main character bites into the apple she was eating and glass shards drop to the floor in front of her. Jake feels your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. Sweat beads on the nape of his neck.

His thumb swipes back and forth over the inch of bare skin on your hip.

Jake glances down at you. Laying against his middle like this. It feels all too natural. He isn’t even paying attention to the movie. Truthfully, the only thing on Jake’s mind is how soft your skin feels against the pad of his thumb.

Imagining how soft your body would feel in his palms, every inch of your skin in his capable hands.

You gasp as the camera pans to the main character’s bleeding mouth, and the shattered lightbulb in your hands, twisting your head and burying your face in Jake’s shirt.

Jake flinches, his attention drawn back to the screen as his fingers curl into your skin. His face twists in distaste, groaning at the gore on the screen.

“Shit, you weren’t kidding about this being freaky.” Jake mutters with a soft shake of his head, shifting uncomfortably as his fingers massage at the pillowy skin of your waist. He swallows thickly, eyes dropping down to the way you’re nestled just above his waistband. He tries a weak chuckle, mind racing for something to lighten the mood. “What am I meant to do if I’m up all night after this, huh?”

You laugh softly against his stomach, pressing closer to the warmth of his rigid torso. Jake stares at the screen as he feels your open palm brush over his abdomen, fingertips grazing the waistband of his sweats by mere millimeters. He strokes your skin, setting his knees further apart by an inch.

Even with the score of the movie in front of you, everything feels so quiet. Even with the floor lamp to your right and the table lamp to your left, it all feels so dark. It all feels so slow. Truthfully, you imagine this is as close as you’ll get to understanding what it feels like to tightrope across Niagara Falls.

One misstep, a strong gust, the loss of balance in any capacity and its all over. The best friendship that your father has ever had, thrown away because you made a pass at a man far too old for you to begin with.

Then, Jake’s fingers break their almost surgically precise pattern. The tips stretch just slightly under the fabric of your tank top, reaching for the silken skin of your stomach. It’s brief, before they retreat to the safety of circling the skin that you’ve chosen to expose. You drop your gaze, watching all five of his digits follow their intricate pattern, and stretch under the cotton white of your top once again.

Maybe Jake notices that you’re watching him, or maybe he finally notices it himself, but he stops all at once. Fingers pulling back to rest platonically against your hip, green eyes trained seriously on the television, his lips stretched into a flat line.

“It’s okay,” You whisper without turning your gaze away from the screen. Jake doesn’t look at you. He feels your fingers brush across the top of his, curling through the digits, linking them together. “It’s okay, Jake. You can. I won’t say anything.”

Your parents aren’t going to be home for another eleven days. What’s Jake supposed to do until then, ignore your existence? — Avoid you entirely?

He wants this, and you’re on to him, giving him permission.

“Honey,” It’s caught somewhere between a sigh and a groan, an exhale of restraint and desperation all at once. He wishes he could at least pretend he’s half interested in this movie. “Don’t talk like that.”

Your brows draw together, eyes going wide as a child in the movie creeps through the house, headed for the master bedroom. Bloody sheets on the bed. A smashed plate on the floor. Jake’s hand gripping your hip. The child inches forwards, the music swells, a chill rushes down your back. In frame, the little girl rounds the edge of the bed and someone leaps out, bloodied and frenzied. Jake hasn’t been paying enough attention to gather who.

Neither one of you will care in a few moments.

The surprise makes you jolt, leaping up from your spot against Jake’s stomach, sitting upright all of a sudden, grabbing onto his forearm for support.

“It’s alright, cutie,” Jake breathes out in soft amusement, rubbing a heavy circle on your back. That’s the first thing he called you. When he’d seen you struggling to lift the icebox in the garage. Let me get that for you, cutie. And now, he has the nerve to pretend like it’s just you that has led the two of you here. “Maybe we should turn it off now, huh?”

Your heartbeat is already thudding in your ears and there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep after any of this. Fuck it. You turn, brace your palm against his shoulder, and take the dive.

Jake has thought about what those pretty lips feel like. Every time they stretch upwards into those pretty smiles, each time you sink your teeth into the bottom one. He should be prepared, in theory. Is there any way to prepare for something like this?

“Sweetheart…” Jake mutters against your lips, eyes screwed shut, hands reaching out for your hips. Pained, he gives a slow shake of his head. “Come on, we can’t do this.”

“But do you want to?” Your lips graze his. He feels the way you arch your back, knocking your chest into his, angling yourself in a way that just begs him to grab hold of your waist and drag you into his lap. You close your mouth, pecking softly at his still lips once more. “If you didn’t know my dad… you would. Right?”

Yes. Of course he would. He would be insane not to. He’s driving himself insane trying not to.

“But I do, and… and he trusts me.” Jake turns his head just slightly, but his hands reach for you. His big hands find your hips and grab onto them tight, hard. He just holds you right there. There’s got to be some kind of way he can regain some of the power here.

“I trust you.” You tell him, kissing his jaw tentatively. Delicate fingertips skim along the throbbing vein on the left side of Jake’s throat, reaching for the nape of his neck. Soft, slow kisses lead a trail to his earlobe, passing plains of stubble and angled bone. “I know you won’t hurt me, and I know you want me. It’s okay, Jake, I want you too.

“Fuck.” Jake swears, dropping his head forwards to rest against the curve of your shoulder. His fingers dig into your hips harder and harder. By the time Jake drags you forwards, his grip is so tight that you would have no choice but to follow. You fall into his lap, lips parted and eyes wide as Jake’s deep pine coloured eyes study your face.

You wait for him to speak again, but he doesn’t. Not for a long time. His fingers stretch up from your hips, reaching under the fabric of your tank top, extending across your bare abdomen. He stretches the brushed cotton further, taking it up with a gentle touch.

“Your father would kill me.” Jake muses as his fingertips graze the underside of your breasts, his eyes solely on your face. You smile back at him, only partly because your father is an airline pilot who couldn’t bench half of what Jake does on a good day.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

Jake grits his teeth. It has started to rain outside now. That storm that channel four had promised is starting to roll in. The movie will be over soon. The rain will be the only sound on this entire street. This house is completely empty, beside the two of you. He exhales through his nose and pushes his hips up. He’s half-hard under you, and giving you another disapproving shake of his head.

“Little fuckin’ minx…” Jake curses you, his words fanning out across the span of your exposed neck, hot and cold all at once. “You get off on teasing me like this, or something?”

A smile works its way across those pretty lips. Jake could see more of that smile than he sees sunsets and he would still be pretty damn content. Your nails rake softly through the almost buzzed fade at the back of his head as you give a shake of your head.

“Well, it’s not teasing if we take care of it,” Your shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug as Jake’s fingers trail further upwards, taking your tank top with them and exposing your breasts to the cool autumn air. The rattle of the air conditioning unit that your dad tells you not to mess with reminds you of the real culprit as your nipples harden and perk with the exposure. You lean back, bracing each of your hands on Jake’s knees, arching your chest out, letting Jake see the newly exposed skin. “If you’ll let me.”

His eyes are pretty when he smiles. When he’s staring at your tits, they’re hooded and hungry, a shade of green that threatens to draw you in and hold you captive. What a happy captive you would be. His hands grab at both of them at once, squeezing roughly at the supple flesh.

All at once, his mouth is on yours too. He’s sucking at your bottom lip, growling into your mouth. He smells of smoked wood and he tastes of scotch. It paints half of a picture. A lonely man sitting in his home alone on a Saturday night, burning a candle given to him by a girl half his age and drinking liquor older than he is himself.

You’re straddling his hips now, your bare thighs squeezing into the fabric of his grey sweatpants, pulling yourself closer with each hungry kiss. Jake’s touch is experienced, expert; he pinches softly at your nipple, anticipates the way your mouth will draw open in a soft gasp, and licks into your mouth the second that it does. He sucks softly at the tip of your tongue, revelling in the feeling of your soft breasts in his hands.

“Arms up.”

You’re such a good girl. The way that you comply with a wordless grin and bite at your lip once the tank top hits the floor has Jake in even more trouble than he was before. He kisses softly at the space between your tits, pushing them together in his hands, opening his mouth and pressing his tongue into your skin.

Men like boobs. Big boobs, small boobs — your shared gossip sessions with friends in college always led to the same conclusion, men don’t care. They bite, suck, grab regardless of size. It shouldn’t be anything new. But then Jake reaches your left nipple. His right hand palms at the underside as his tongue swipes in a circular motion, just before his lips clasp around the sensitive bud.

You know he’s watching you through those esurient green eyes, but you find yourself playing right into his capable hands anyway. Any leverage you may have had in seeming like his charms don’t work on you are washed away with the dulcet tone of your first moan. It spills from your lips, your nails pressing into the nape of his neck as Jake sucks expertly at the sensitive skin.

He pulls away with another ravenous exhale, something between a sigh and a groan. His hands feel heavy on your body as they paw at your chest with a capability you’ve never encountered before. His cologne is expensive and mature, a smokey blend that has you intoxicated and enthralled. His mouth is wet and eager, but oh, so slow as it explores the areas of you he has dreamt about.

The rain outside is growing heavier, like it’s learning to mimic the deepness of each of your breaths. The movie must have finished by now. Neither one of you is going to check.

His stubble prickles, rough and masculine, abrasive compared to the adept caress of his tongue. His right hand grabs forcibly at the nape of your neck, drawing the sweetest little squeak from your already open lips. You knew he would be better than the guys you’ve been with before, but not like this. He hasn’t even touched you yet.

Jake’s lips seem to pinpoint each and every nerve ending in your chest, sucking and licking at your skin through feverish kisses. The tenderness seeping away each time a breathy moan falls from your mouth, fanning out against his clothed shoulder. He pulls away from the top of your breast with his teeth, already knowing, in his years of experience, that that’s going to bruise.

Jake lifts his head, letting his eyes drift shut as you lean forwards and press your mouth to his neck. He can feel your nerves in your trembling fingertips, in the way your chest shivers when it brushes his, in the way your lips suck at his pulse point. But you’re doing so well. Dragging your lips along the length of his neck, biting softly at the skin just above his collarbone, feeling him shiver at the sensation.

“Off.” You demand, grabbing at the bottom of his t-shirt, feeling him grin against your jaw. He complies wordlessly, grabbing at the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head.

You’ve seen Jake shirtless plenty of times, wandering around his property or opening the front door without shame. You’ve always wondered what those muscles, that dusting of golden chest hair, would feel like up close. Forgetting that you’re being watched, your hands explore his toned torso. The line down the middle of his stomach, the sharp divide of his collarbones, the swell of his pecs.

“What’re you thinking?” Jake asks, brushing your hair back from your face tenderly, concern coating his features.

A bashful smile spreads across your cheeks as you watch your fingers ghost along the thick muscle of his shoulder. “That you’re really hot.”

Jake breathes out a chuckle, reaching up and grabbing at the back of your neck to cradle you against him as he pushes up from the couch and turns quickly, planting you on your back and covering your body with his.

“That smile is gonna get me in big trouble, sweetheart,” Jake wastes no time in pressing his mouth to your stomach, holding you by your waist as he sucks filthy kisses into your skin to mark his path downward. “You know that?”

“I know.” You answer back, just to tease him this time. Jake stops at your waistband as you giggle, looking up at you through hooded eyes with a devilish grin on his face. He drags his teeth across your hip, hooking his fingers into the sides of your shorts and tugging them down your legs.

“God, honey, you weren’t wearing panties this entire time?” Jake exhales, eye-level with the most intimate part of you and completely unashamed. Your mind fumbles for an answer, lips getting into position to finally respond when he leans forwards and licks a stripe through your soaked core. Then, he moans. His hands grab fistfuls of your soft waist and he goes in again, lapping hungrily at your excitement, groaning against your sensitive skin.

“O-Oh… Jake.” Your voice trembles, knees trying to press shut around Jake’s broad shoulders. He grabs firmly at your thigh, closing his lips loosely around your clit, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud and making you jolt against him.

“Yeah, honey?”

“That feels really fucking good.” You tell him, closing your eyes finally.

“Attagirl. Just hold on, girlie, I’m gonna get you there.” He promises without once diverting from his apparent mission. If he’s as devoted to the Navy as he is to making you cum at this exact moment in time, the military is lucky to have him. You’re soaked, excitement pooling between your legs. Jake already knows he’s going to spend tomorrow cleaning this couch, and he wishes he cared enough to make better decisions.

“Look at this,” Jake breathes out as his gaze falls back down to rest between your legs. He couldn’t care less about the fucking couch. You swallow hard, practically aching for his touch. You’ve waited so long already. His index finger dips between your folds, his brows raise as he gathers your excitement on the tip of it. “Making such a fuckin’ mess for your old man’s best friend. Dirty fucking girl.”

He can’t see the way his words make you grin, but he can feel the way you reach for his hair and tug softly at those blonde roots, begging for more. He’s more than happy to give it to you. Jake groans against you, working his tongue in soft circles around the throbbing bundle of nerves. His eyes are still on you. Your eyes are closed — if you look him in the eyes then you’re going to get all embarrassed, and you’ll be damned before you let someone ruin how good this feels. Especially not yourself.

Jake’s hand trails up your naked torso, pawing at your rising and falling tits as you pant into the chilled air, sweat beading on your skin.

He’s gentle between your legs. More gentle than he could be. Pressing his stubbled mouth firmly against your core and working his tongue against you, each languid movement making you keen into him. The tip of his nose bumps your clit periodically. It feels like your head is spinning.

Dragging his mouth back up to your sensitive, throbbing clit, his free hand slides between your legs, he dips the tip of his index finger into you, then slides it in up to the knuckle and curls. Just testing the waters. It’s enough to earn him a moan, enough to have you grab a fistful of his short blonde hair, ensuring that he doesn’t get ahead of himself and lose pace with his mouth.

He slips his ring finger into you alongside his middle whilst his tongue works confidently along your core and back up to your clit. He lets go of your thigh and rests his forearm across your stomach, keeping you nice and still for him. Maybe he should feel ashamed of himself for how much he’s enjoying this.

All of those times he enjoyed the sound of your laugh, and sat with the afterthought of how much he’d enjoy the sound of your moans. It’s hard to be ashamed when it turns out he was right.

He scissors his fingers inside of you, making you gasp louder this time, pulling against him. You tug at his roots, he moans against your clit. You both shiver, and not because of that now thundering storm. Jake’s tongue flattens as he drags it along your core. He pulls his fingers from you and puts them immediately to work, taking over the pace on your clit, burying his face between your legs, curling his tongue into you.

Jake growls against you, his cock growing now uncomfortably hard in the confines of his sweats and his fingers and mouth switch places once again. After all the time he has waited, he doesn’t deny himself the pleasure of looking up at you, writhing at the feeling of him between your legs. All that does is make his sweats feel even tighter again. His fingers fuck into you mercilessly, curling and twisting, making you keen into his touch and arch your back and gasp all at once.

You cum with his name on your tongue and your fingers in his hair. The comedown feels like weightlessness. Jake doesn’t bother to ask if that’s the first time a man has made you feel like that, the adoration in your eyes as he comes in to kiss your mouth tells him everything he needs to know.

His mouth tastes like you, his chin is wet with your slick and his cock is straining against the grey cotton of his sweats, pressing in to your stomach. Jake’s fingers brush your hair back softly from your forehead, a sudden calmness in the green of his eyes as he studies the peaceful euphoric smile on your face.

“We don’t have to go any further—“

“Stop trying to be a gentleman.” You huff, lifting your head and kissing him hard, hooking your legs around his waist. Drawing him closer, you’re both painfully aware that the only thing stopping him from touching you is his sweats. “I want you.”

Jake pauses for a moment. Rain slams against the windows, and the television goes dark as it passes into standby mode. His hands squeeze softly at your waist, eyes darting downward at your naked body under his. He would be a damn idiot to say no to everything he has been fantasising about.

“You keep condoms here?” He breathes out.

Your eyes light up before him, gleaming with mischief. You give a confident nod of your head as a cunning little smirk spreads across your lips.

“There are some in my parents’ bathroom,” You can tell right away that he doesn’t like that idea, but that’s okay, option two was by far your favourite anyway. “Or, you could just cum in me. I won’t tell.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jake drops his head forwards to rest against your naked chest, panting out a dry laugh. His fingers bruise into your middle as he starts to consider the choices that have led him here. Once he feels composed enough to look you in the eye again, he lifts his head and squints seriously. “You did not just say that.”

“I want you to. I’m on birth control anyway.” Long gone is the nervous girl standing on his porch and asking him to fix her lights. There’s a devious, lustful look in your eye and Jake’s pretty damn sure there’s magic in that look. All he knows is that it could make him do just about anything you asked of him. “Please?”

Jake swipes his thumb along the curve of your jaw, studying the depths of your irises for just a moment. He leans forwards and kisses your bottom lip, sucking at the plush skin, pulling away with his teeth. You swallow as he sits back, pushes his sweats down his legs and frees his swollen cock. From under him, you’ve got the perfect view.

Every ridge and valley in those impossible abs, each follicle of hair that lines his tanned chest, trailing down below his navel and sitting neatly around his pubic bone, trimmed just as neatly as his navy-standard hair cut. His cock is a good size, considerable even when he’s got one of his large hands wrapped around its base. Wide too, throbbing red at the tip, bending just slightly to the left.

Just looking has your mouth running dry.

Fisting his cock, Jake sits back on his heels and lets his gaze fall down to your glistening core once again. He looks down at your pretty face, then lowers himself between your legs, pressing his chest into yours, kissing you dizzyingly hard.

“You want it?” Jake asks one last time.

“I want it.” You answer him, smiling softly back at him, squeezing your thighs around his hips.

You’re looking up at him with such trust in your eyes that Jake can barely stand it. His heart thuds in his chest as he guides the tip of his cock between your folds, hesitating just briefly. There’s already no coming back from this. There’s no way to make up for the things he has already done. You’re so special, and he wants this so bad.

Your mouth sucks softly at his throat, quiet, pleased sounds spilling from your lips as he grinds the tip of his cock against your sensitive clit. Jake kisses your shoulder softly, then lowers his head to rest there as he drags his cock down to your warm entrance. You gasp softly as he presses into you, pushing forwards until he’s buried and stretching you open completely.

“Oh,” You whimper against his earlobe, pressing your nails into the swell of his shoulder blade. “You feel really fucking big.”

“So fuckin tight.” Jake grunts, his throat thick with desire as he stills inside of you, thumbs bruising into your hips. “Sweet fucking girl. Feel like you’re made just for me.”

This makes you smile into the curve of his jaw, humming in soft agreement as he starts to slowly rock his hips. Lightning flashes outside of the window, and it doesn’t matter one bit. The rest of the world is a million miles away. In here, it’s just the two of you.

“Oh fuck,” Jake shivers, eclipsing your throat with his hand, pulling you in for a heavy kiss, licking into your mouth as he drags his hips back until it’s just the tip. You gasp sharply against him as he snaps his hips forwards until he’s buried into you completely once. “Fuck. You like that?”

“Yeah. I want it like that.” You whimper into his skin, hugging your legs tight around his hips. You moan eagerly against his lips, the sound catching in your throat as he squeezes at the sides of your neck and drives his hips forwards sharply, drawing an excited squeak from your parted lips.

Jake grunts, rocking himself into you hard and fast. He’s waited so long for this, and so have you. The way you’re clawing at his back makes him want to give it all to you. Leaving feverish kisses along your collarbones, he fills you over and over. You curl both legs tighter around his waist, leaning your head back as far as you can against the couch cushion to give his lips better access to your throat.

The living room is filled with the sounds of your sex. Your desperate moans, panting and hard. Jake’s pleasured grunts, muffled softly by the curve of your shoulder. His skin slapping yours. It smells like him, smoky and mature. Sweat beads along his back and his forehead as he keeps up that merciless pace, fucking you so hard that you couldn’t tell him your own name anymore.

Jake pulls back just enough to grab the backs of your thighs and pin them to your chest, hooking your knees over his shoulders, filling you even deeper than before, making you cry out.

“Jake!” You beg, babbling incoherently into the curve of his shoulder as he goes right back to the pace he set before. Fucking you hard and fast, scrambling your brain to the point that the only thing on your mind is the ravenous way he’s staring down at you.

Your walls are squeezing around him perfectly and the sounds you’re making are just driving him insane. It’s been a long time since Jake felt as crazy about someone as he feels about you. He pants into the crook of your neck as his fingers tug at your hair, making you moan out even louder.

“I’m gonna cum — fuck, honey,” Jake grunts out like he’s been punched, his eyes screwing shut as he reaches between your bodies and rubs uniformed circles around your clit. “Are you close? — Can you cum one more time for me?”

“Yeah,” You breathe out, already trembling as you squeeze your thighs tighter around him. “Just—“ You don’t have the words, so you just reach out and grab his hand. Jake swallows hard as you wrap his open hand around the column of your throat and look up at him with that big, trusting look in your eyes again.

He grits his teeth as he squeezes at the sides of your throat, watching your sweet face contort in pleasure. Your hand dips between your legs and replaces where Jake’s had been, rubbing feverish patterns on your clit. Your stomach tightens in knots, your breathing grows heavy and Jake’s cock drives into you at just about the perfect angle each time. You open his mouth to warn him, but it’s already too late. You couldn’t find the words if you tried.

All you can do is grab onto those thick shoulders and cry out his name against the salty skin of his neck. Jake slows just slightly, offering you some reprieve through your sensitivity. Trying to be a gentleman once again. The brain fog starts to clear, you lift your head and press your lips to your earlobe.

“Cum in me,” You pant out, grabbing his shoulder to steady yourself. Jake groans against your chest, nodding his head feverishly. “Just like that, Jake, please.”

He’s relentless, fucking your through the sensitivity of your post-orgasm haze hard enough that grabbing onto those broad shoulders is the only thing that keeps you down to earth with him. Jake groans desperately. He wraps an arm under your back and pulls you as tight against him as physics will allow. You gasp softly, taking your lip between your teeth as he fills you, his cock throbbing against your walls. He seeks out your lips and kisses you hard, somehow more desperate now.

“Fuck, honey…” Jake breathes out, pressing a lazy kiss to the curve of your jaw. He makes no effort to move at first. “You alright?”

“Better than alright.” You answer contentedly, a soft smile toying at your lips as lightning flashes outside once again. Jake chuckles tiredly, lifting his head and kissing your lips.

He sighs, moving slow as he slips out of you and looks down at his cum dripping from between your legs.

“Oh, shit!” You realize, sitting up quickly and trying to reach around Jake for something to clean it with. He hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you tight against him. Truthfully, from the moment that you had laid your head on Jake’s abs, you hadn’t thought once about the consequences of fucking him right here in this spot.

“Forget it, I’ll — I’ll fix this,” He tells you calmly, already regretting that he’s going to have to live with what he has done on this couch. “Come on, cutie. Let’s go take a shower.”

It’s clear that this is foreign territory for you. Not the sex, but what comes after. He didn’t get up and leave. He didn’t run away with regret for what he did. He ran soap across your body and found your pyjamas for you.

You swallow softly, walking to sit on the edge of your bed. Jake runs a hand along his stubbled jaw as he lingers in the doorway to you room. You can’t help but notice that he got dressed again. Including his shoes. He looks you over, sitting there in fresh pyjamas, staring at him with that worried little look on your face.

He hasn’t ever seen your room here. It’s probably the one room in the house he has never been in. He’s been wondering what it’s like.

But that isn’t why he’s standing there. He sighs softly and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I should go — I mean, Ace is over there by himself.” Jake says quietly. You nod at him. You should probably say something too, but truthfully, not all of your words seem to have come back into your mind yet. “Are you coming with me?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I don’t wanna leave you over here by yourself after that weird ass movie.” Jake answers you with a shrug of his shoulders. “I figured you could just spend the night. If you want.”

Your mouth twitches at the corners as you push yourself up from the edge of your bed, nodding eagerly at him. You’ve got eleven days until your parents get back in town, and Jake permitting, you’re planning on making the most of that.

…

#jake hangman seresin #Jake hangman Seresin smut #Jake hangman Seresin x reader #Jake hangman Seresin x y/n #Jake hangman Seresin x you #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin fic #Jake Seresin smut #Jake Seresin x you #Jake Seresin x y/n #Jake Seresin x reader #dbf!Jake

[ddejavvu]

how about more dbf!hangman?? maybe you’re rooster’s daughter and he’s having a barbecue at his place and at some point he’s like “jake go grab more beers from the fridge in the garage” and you offer to help him and once there you give him some good old head 🤭🤭

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters), minors dni.

It takes approximately half a second for you to chime in with an, 'I'll help!' when your dad asks Jake to grab a handful of beers from the garage. It takes impossibly less than that for your dad to gripe about how you never offer to help him.

And it's a good thing that he's so occupied with his mumbling and grumbling, because he doesn't notice the hand that Jake slips over the small of your back as he holds the sliding door open for you, offering you passage into the air conditioned house from the sweltering back patio.

The garage is on the other end of the house, past the kitchen and the dining room. You're silent as you walk through each room, shoes tramping over two different grains of wood, and finally cracking open the creaky door to the garage. You whirl on Jake, sliding the dog door behind his legs shut in case anyone hears you and gets suspicious. You don't have a dog, but the previous owners did, and you're regretting their home modifications. Open doors really put a damper on fucking in secret.

"Hurry," Jake comments, perfectly content to reach to his left for the refrigerator like you're not on your knees at his feet. You pry at the zipper of his jeans, palming him hurriedly through his boxers as he cracks a beer open with his teeth.

He's unable to act so nonchalant when you peel the waistband of his boxers down, though, and kitten lick the tip of his half-hard dick. All of a sudden he's stiffening a lot faster, and his head nearly cracks the curtain-covered window panes laid in the door behind his head.

"Shit," He hisses, stuffing the mouth of his beer bottle between his lips to shut himself up. He takes a swig, one that's audible as it slides down his throat. He draws a lungful of oxygen in after his sip, sighing shakily as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

"Let's go, baby," He urges, the fingers on one hand holding three beers; one is his, opened and missing a gulp, and the other two are sealed for other guests at the barbecue.

He tangles his free hand into your hair, pushing you forwards onto his cock so that it nearly hits the back of your throat. He fucks your face like a toy, dragging your head back and forth along his length so that you need only keep your mouth open for him.

"Yeah- fuck," He snaps, hearing a gag from the back of your throat as you choke on him. He takes another swig of beer, muscling it down his throat, forcing his system to process it so that he doesn't give himself away with a hearty groan. You've blown Jake so many times, you know all the right buttons to press. You flick your tongue coordinately this way and that, hands coming up to massage his balls until, within barely two minutes, you've got him twitching, on the verge of blowing his load straight down your throat. He's still dragging your mouth up and down the length of his dick, and there's something exhilarating about knowing he can move you however he wants.

"Come on," He pants, even though you're at his mercy, and he can take what he wants, "Come on, baby, 'gotta get back. Just- mmf, yeah, keep goin' like that, right- hnngh! There!"

All it takes is a soft roll of your tongue through his slit, something that isn't easy to time as he face-fucks you. But when you achieve it his hips jerk, and he muffles his groan into his beer as he cums.

You're barely able to wrench yourself away from him before he cums down your throat, and you catch it hastily in your mouth instead. You want to taste him, want to feel his cum coating your mouth, and he steadies you as you rock on your knees from the momentum.

"'Atta girl," He pants, watching you swallow his cum, then lick his cock clean, "Hurry up, babydoll, we don't got all day. Gotta get these back out there r'else someone's gonna figure us out."

"I know," You hum, tucking him back into his boxers and zipping his fly, "I- I want more tonight, Jake. Sleep over, pretend you're drunk and crash on the couch."

"I'll see what I can do," He murmurs soothingly to your frantic pleas, letting you pry the beer bottles from his hands. He reaches for new ones, bumping the fridge door closed with his hip, "I know you need more than that, but we gotta be smart about this. Now c'mere, you smell like sex."

"Hm?" You tilt a questioning gaze his way, and he knocks back another gulp of beer, cheeks pudged with the liquor as he drags you closer by the collar of your shirt. He kisses you firmly, spits the stuff into your mouth, and you wash away the taste of his cum with it.

It's a much less pleasant taste, but a safer one to go with.

"Good," He hums, after watching you swallow the mouthful. He kisses you once more in reward, sweeter than the first time, and nudges you towards the door.

"Lay low. Just keep bringin' me beers, and I'll see if I can pass out here for the night. If I do," He corners you in the kitchen, throwing a narrowed gaze towards the backyard where no one happens to be watching you at the moment, "Then be in bed before your dad crashes, wearing that pretty little red number I got you. He'll think you went to bed early, and I'll wait until he's sleepin' to come up and join you. Understand?"

You nod obediently, and with one last glance at the backyard, he kisses the shell of your ear, "Good. If anyone asks, I gave you a sip of my beer."

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #dbf!hangman #dbf!jake #jake seresin au #hangman au #jake hangman seresin au

[sugarcoated-lame]

kricket please i had this thoight and i just know you’ll understand it

dad’s best friend, jake seresin. OR! best friend’s dad, jake seresin.

i meannnnnnnnnnn

SEB MY BELOVED ❤️❤️ this has been sitting in my inbox for… way too long and I am SO SO SORRY that it’s taken me so long to get around to answering it 😭 (truthfully I started writing something for it and completely forgot about it, and just found it while going through my drafts today haha 🙈😭😭) BUT today is also your birthday, so what better time for me to finally finish this hehe 🥰

AAAAAAAAAAAH OK

I had to go with dad’s best friend Jake, because I just feel like he would be the biggest tease, and he’d be so smug when he sees the affect he has on you.

Maybe you’re just back from college, and Jake has always known you’ve had a bit of a crush on him since he moved into the neighborhood a few years ago and befriended your father. He could see the way you’d always blush and stumble over your words whenever he’d so much as say hi to you when he was hanging around the house with your dad. The way your leg would bounce nervously under the table and you’d go quiet when your parents would seat him next to you when they’d have him over for dinners.

But now you’re older, a little more confident— and sure he still makes you blush, but now you’re not so afraid to be a bit bolder when it comes to your dad’s best friend. And you make it your mission to make him just as flustered.

Wearing your cutest, more risqué outfits whenever you know he’s going to be around. Going for a swim when you know Jake is coming over to help your dad out back with some yard work and lying out in the sun on a lounge chair in a pretty little bikini, your body on display just for him, glistening as water droplets glide across your smooth skin.

Leaning over him and brushing your arm against his when you go to reach for something at the dinner table. Relishing in the way Jake’s hungry eyes follow your every move no matter how hard he tries to fight it, that strong jaw of his that you’ve always wondered what it’d feel like to press little kisses to, clenching along with his fists anytime you brush past him. His cheeks still going a bit red despite the cocky smirk that fights to grow on his lips whenever you catch him staring.

It’s only when your parents are away for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary that something finally happens between you and Jake. Your dad asked him to check in on you while they’re away, and when you answer the door to in a too-big t-shirt that reaches your mid thighs and makes it hard for him to tell if you’re wearing shorts underneath it, face free of any makeup and showing off your natural beauty, hair in a messy bun with loose tendrils beautifully framing your face— looking absolutely irresistible and offering him a beer, Jake knows that he’s a goner.

You bring Jake his beer and tell him that you were just watching a movie and he’s welcome to join. The tension between the two of you is palpable as you silently watch the movie, nothing but the sounds of your quiet breaths and the movie playing on tv filling the room.

This is the first time you’ve ever been truly alone with him and Jake can see your confidence wavering as you sit on opposite ends of the couch, watching your leg bounce nervously as you try to your hardest to focus on the tv screen and not on him.

You jump when you feel a warm hand cover your knee to stop your fidgeting, looking down at it before turning your gaze towards Jake and seeing that signature, devilish smirk on his lips that never fails to make your cheeks feel hot.

“You nervous about something, honey?”

There’s a teasing lilt to his voice, your too-quick squeak of NO and the way you wince at yourself afterward telling Jake otherwise and only make that grin of his grow wider.

“C’mere, sweets.” His big hand glides up from your knee to your thigh, leaving goosebumps in its wake as Jake helps to guide you closer and closer to him until you’re hovering over his lap, your hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders.

“You want this, darlin’?” His face is serious as he searches yours for any hint of hesitation, fingers brushing across the smooth skin of your cheek and causing you to whimper as you lean into his gentle touch.

“Yes, I want it— want you, Jake.”

His large hands trail down the length of your sides and you can feel the warmth of them through the thin fabric of your t-shirt as they wrap around your waist, pulling you down securely onto his lap.

Leaving you breathless as his signature cockiness returns, smirk taking over his face and mirth in those pretty, hooded green eyes as Jake leans in to whisper,

“Oh I know you do, honey.”

One hand cradling the back of your head, the other tenderly squeezes at your waist and pulls you flush against his chest as Jake pulls you in for a bruising kiss. The movie long-forgotten, this is just the beginning of a not-nearly long enough weekend spent learning each other’s bodies, figuring out what makes the other tick and fall apart, with Jake taking you on nearly every surface of your parents’ house and making you feel oh so good.

hehe thank you so much for this delicious thot, my love! I hope you enjoy this little birthday present from me 🥹 happy birthday babey, ilysm! 🥰😘💐💜💕💜💕💜

everyone go wish @sebsxphia a happy birthday <3

#seb <3 #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin blurb #jake seresin fic #glen powell #jake seresin imagine #top gun maverick #dbf jake #dads best friend Jake #my writing #whewww #dbf jake lives in my mind rent free #I am never going to shut up about him

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

just a little update on what's coming up!!

- honey girl chapter six is in the works, halfway done !! i'm thinking i'm gonna give you a break from all the angst in the series in this chapter... but no promises... <3

- I have a jake seresin x floyd!reader fic that's half written. it's soft and sweet and gentle... I love it, personally

- professor!joel miller x student!reader has been sat half finished in my drafts for months. this needs to be finished because it's fucking delicious

- 2 or 3 cowboy!spencer reid mini fics and headcanons are in the works

- I also have a chibs x reader kind of soft dom light brat tamer fic that's almost done

- web of lies chapter two is like 1/4 done... i'm sorry for deserting this fic!! idk what happened!! but it'll be finished soon... <3

as always, feel free to let me know which you'd like to see first!! or feel free to ask any questions you might have about any of these. much love <3

#honey girl chapter six #honey girl #web of lies #professor!joel miller smut #professor!joel miller #dbf!bucky barnes #dadsbestfriend!bucky barnes #jake seresin x floyd!reader #spencer reid x reader #spiderman!spencer reid #chibs telford x reader #chibs telford smut #cowboy!spencer reid smut #cowboy!spencer reid

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven

Dbf!Jake Seresin x fem!reader 12k words (.....yes. 12k. i-)

summary: Flirting with the guy who fixed your car turns out to lead to much, much more when you find out he's actually not just some random guy, but your new neighbour and father's new best friend, Jake Seresin.

a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. this is entirely based on my new fixation on dbf!jake. i have so many thots. so many that they led to a 12k oneshot lmfao. anyway, as always, a list of things to watch out for:

pet names used in an unholy way, safe sex (i fucking managed to finally give them a condom whooooohoooo), oral sex for the both of them (yes i also wrote a blowjob. this is unbelievable i know), dom!jake, some praise kink, a smidge of strength kink at the end. a lot of begging. as always. mention of shower sex. mostly vanilla. jake fucks in missionary because he wants to be nice for his first time with her. if there's ever a sequel i swear to god he will be the most unholy fucker ever

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The first time Jake meets you isn't the first time he's supposed to meet you. He's supposed to come by for dinner that evening, to finally get to know the daughter your parents have told him so much about. And it's not his fault that he meets you seven hours earlier that day. Not really.

Because the pictures your parents had kept showing him were all old. Mostly childhood photographs, some from your graduation, but none recent enough to connect the dots.

So it's really not his fault that he doesn't recognise you when he sees you standing there on the side of the road, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder, the hood of your car all the way up. With how wildly you're gesturing, Jake guesses that you're not particularly close to fixing whatever problem you have.

You're wary when he pulls up behind you and opens his door. It's rarely a good sign when random men prey on very obviously helpless and distressed young women. But Jake doesn't even get closer at first, just stands there in the opened car door and asks if you need any help. For a little moment, you debate whether it's worth the risk. Then your father's voice rings out from your phone and you decide that there's not much this guy could do to you in broad daylight on a well used street with your father on the phone.

So you tell him the truth. Yes, you most definitely have a problem. The way he makes sure it's okay for him to come over and take a look calms you even more. He's considerate and careful and maybe you're actually lucky and he's just a guy who genuinely wants to help.

He steps out from the door and walks up to you and honestly, for a moment there you're startled. He has to be in his forties, but damn, he's attractive. Suddenly you're glad you picked your sundress over your sweatpants this morning.

You let him lean over your car and take a closer look.

"If he can't help, I'll just come pick you up and we'll call a tow truck", your father says after you've filled him in on what's happening. Honestly, you'd really rather not have to call a tow truck though, because that's just going to cost you a bunch of money again, which isn't particularly the way you want to spend it.

Also, this guy leaning over your car - and you're not even denying that you're very much eyeing him up - seems like he actually knows what he's doing there.

He takes a minute or two before he comes up again. He's smiling, which you take as a good sign. He opens his mouth and you hear what he's saying - but because you have no clue what it is that he's trying to tell you, you just nod along. You're not a mechanic, you don't know the goddamn terminology. Something something battery, something something fuel pump, whatever. You take the time to notice his accent instead.

The good news is he thinks he can fix whatever he's found, but you'll still have to get it checked out later on.

He walks back to his own car, rummages around and comes back with a toolbox and an unopened water bottle.

"It might take a while", he tells you as he offers you the bottle. "Feel free to turn on my radio."

You take the waterbottle and bite down on your lip to keep from grinning. He's sweet. Goddamn. Because you've deemed the whole thing safe, you tell your father goodbye and hang up - you honestly just want a bit of privacy to stare at this hunk of a man who's bending over the hood of your car again and offering you a very... good look at his backside.

It's summer. He's wearing a wife pleaser, which is reasonable in these temperatures, but the sight of his forearms working almost makes you feel like he knows what he's doing by wearing it. Does he have a wife to please, though? He's old enough to have kids - your age, maybe a few years younger. He's about as old as your dad. If he has a wife, maybe he's wearing it for her. Maybe she likes the way his biceps flexes just like you do.

You squint at his hands as you uncap the water bottle and take a sip. There's no ring as far as you can see. Would it be entirely unreasonable to assume he's... single?

It's been a minute, maybe, when you decide it's probably awkward for you to stand there and watch him, so you go with his suggestion and lean into his car, palms bracing against the seat to reach for the radio.

You turn it on, switch through a few channels until you find one you like and turn the volume up. Because it's probably just as awkward if you stay in his car - if not bordering on creepy - you step around the opened door and settle yourself against the hood. Your thighs stick to the warmed metal, but that's something you're willing to deal with.

Your eyes cling to him as he works. You don't know what the hell he's doing, you just hope he knows and you're not left with an even worse problem after. But he doesn't seem like that type of guy. And since he's seemingly unmarried... You don't stop yourself from staring.

Fuck, maybe he has a girlfriend, not everyone gets married at thirty. Not everyone wears their wedding ring either. But a girl can dream, right? And you're dreaming, for just a few minutes. You allow yourself to dream.

He looks so good. He looks so fucking good.

Sandy-blond hair, cut short, but not too short, broad, broad, broad shoulders... those arms, that back.

When he straightenes and looks at you, greasy fingers and a triumphant grin on his lips, you also have to admit that he's got chiseled fucking features. You swallow hard and do your best to pretend you haven't been ogling him.

"All done", he says. You raise your eyebrows.

"Really? That quickly?"

He grins and takes a step back, offering you to take a look yourself. You bite back a smile and push off the hood of his car - your hips are swaying as you walk, yeah, but as far as you're aware, he's single and just fixed your car for you, for free, in less than fifteen minutes.

Also, he's hot.

"Looks no different to me", you admit. He lets out a chuckle.

"Try it", he says, reaches for the hood and pulls it down as you slip into the driver's seat. You look up to him through the windshield before you turn the key in the ignition and-

The car starts.

The fucking car starts.

He's actually managed it.

You turn the key back and shake your head in disbelief. If he hadn't accidentally stumbled upon you, you'd probably have had to call the tow truck by now. Instead, you reach for the glove compartment and grab your purse.

"How-", you start as you climb out of the car seat again, shutting the door behind you. "How the hell?"

He chuckles.

"Actually, don't tell me", you interrupt yourself, throwing your hands up. "I don't even want to know. Here."

You reach into your purse and pull out disinfection wipes, offering them to him. He takes one with a smile and a drawled thanks and cleans off the grease on his hands before folding it up and letting it disappear into his pocket.

"So you're my knight in shining armour today", you say, biting down on your lip. Fuck it. You're gonna find out here and now whether or not he's single. "Otherwise I'm sure the tow truck would've cost me a hundred bucks - at least."

"Yeah, probably", he agrees, his eyes dropping to your mouth for just a second.

"Well, then", you smile, as coyly as you can manage. "How can I thank you?"

And just as you hoped, he stills, taking you in - maybe for the first time, you're not sure. His eyes rake down your body, your cleavage, your waist, your legs. His lips tug into a grin, but when he looks back up at you, he's serious.

"No worries", he tells you. "I'm not the tow truck."

He's not pushing you. Actually, he's doing the opposite, and you're not a fan. Maybe he isn't single after all. Maybe he does have a girlfriend. Or a wife. Or maybe he's not interested. Maybe... but you can give it a try, right? Just one try.

"I can't just drive off", you argue, blinking up at him a little more, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Fuck, are you really doing this? Your breath catches for a moment. But then again, if he isn't single, you're just gonna get into your car and never see him again. So who cares? "How about I give you my number?"

Your heartbeat quickens as he looks at you and straightens up. He's still grinning. You can't quite figure him out.

"I'm forty-seven, darling", he chuckles. You try your hardest to ignore how that pet name sounds, all sweet and intimate and god, you'd do a lot to have him say it again.

"So?", you ask and raise an eyebrow. "Does that mean you don't have a phone?"

Jake shakes his head with a chuckle, but you keep looking up at him so seductively, keep smiling so flirtatiously that he can't help himself. You're wearing such a pretty dress, such a dainty necklace around your throat. And you're serious about this.

He's had younger women flirt with him, yes, but usually five, ten years younger at most - and even that's been a while, because he isn't going to bars every night anymore.

You're really young. You're too young. You're, what, twenty-six? You can't be much older.

But you're stunning. Gorgeous eyes, kissable lips, glossy and plush and for just a moment, Jake loses himself in the images his mind seems to produce immediately when he looks at you - has been, from the second he'd spotted you through his windshield.

He's old enough to know better. But he still reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone.

...

The first time Jake officially meets you is seven hours later when he knocks on your parents' door and takes a step back to wait for it to open.

"That's gotta be Jake, someone get the door!", your mother's voice calls out, and it takes a few seconds until he hears soft footsteps coming down the hallway.

Then the door cracks open.

And there stands-

You.

You're smiling widely for the entirety of two seconds. Then your face falls.

Jake feels like the rug is pulled out from under his feet. He tumbles deep down a dark, dark hole as he stares at your pretty eyes, all shocked and wide, mouth open.

"You", you let out, almost breathless.

"You", Jake echoes, in quite the same tone.

Within seconds, you're stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind you and holding out your hand in front of you, as if to keep him a safe distance away.

You're quick, almost stumbling over your own words as you come to conclusions and try to grasp all their consequences. Jake has a hard time even listening to you. He's frozen in his spot, barely comprehending the entire situation.

The young woman that had so unashamedly flirted with him this morning - that he had most definitely flirted back with - is his neighbour's daughter. His friend's daughter.

So he's fucking frozen in spot, yes.

He's frozen even as you're ushering him into the house with a smile on your lips that's just a bit too wide. He's frozen as he sits down at the dinner table and frozen as your mother offers him a beer. He's frozen as he settles on the couch after and as your father turns on a football game. He's frozen as you scoff at the tv and disappear up the stairs.

Your father asks him what's wrong, but there's no way Jake can tell him.

Even without your lecture on the porch, there would've been no way he would have admitted that he's got your number saved in his phone, "Twenty-five" with a winky face emoji behind it.

So he says he hasn't been all that well - maybe getting the flu or something.

Which is bullshit. He doesn't get sick. He's been sick two, maybe three times in all his life.

But he does think he'll be sick when you take your last step down the stairs half an hour later, in pajamas that barely cover anything - satin or something, he's too focused not focusing on your bare skin to notice anything except your bare skin, really. You just traipse over to the kitchen on tiptoes, eyes glued to your phone, hushed voices reaching his ears when you talk to your mother before you reappear in the living room.

"I'm going to bed", you announce, phone clutched tightly in your hands. "It's been a long day."

Jake can't hear your father's answer. He can't hear the commentator or the cheers from the tv. He can't hear anything, not when you're standing there in the doorway, when he's concentrating so fucking hard on not looking at you.

He fails miserably.

His eyes rake down your body so scorchingly hot that they burn holes into your skin. You have to swallow hard at his expression.

You're not tired at all, actually. Yes, it's been a long day, but if anything, you're buzzing with adrenaline. Which is worse. Because the entire dinner long, you've just had to sit there and stare at him and not do anything about it.

So you're aching to finally hide away in your room, to crawl into bed and contemplate what the fuck is happening. And, just maybe, to dip your fingers into your pajama shorts and think about his shoulders, his arms, his jawline...

Jake manages to grunt some kind of 'goodnight' before you flee - but he doesn't manage to drag his eyes back up from your stomach, all exposed and on display for him. And he doesn't manage to hide it from you.

...

He sees you often over the following weeks. He's been over at your parents' house almost every day for the past six months anyway, and that doesn't change just because you've come back home. Your father still invites him for football games, your mother still talks him into coming over for lunch or for dinner or both and whenever they're outside tinkering on something, he's being called to help.

And - because of course, it's your house as well - you're there, too.

All around him, all the time.

At first, it's innocent. You walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water and smile and say hello. You sit on the couch on a call with a friend and wave at him through the window. You come back from a walk with the dog and ask how he's doing before you disappear inside.

But then there come moments... Moments in which you lie down on a sun lounger in a skimpy bikini while he's painting the fence with your father, sunglasses high on your nose, a book in your hands, rubbing sunscreen into your skin and biting your lip when he can't help but look at you. Moments in which you brush up against him in the kitchen with a giggled 'Sorry', your mother's back turned to you as she grabs milk from the fridge, his fists clenching at his sides, his coffee cup held decently in front of his crotch. Moments in which you sit next to him on the couch and have to lean over him with a lengthy apology, your father just disappearing into the bathroom, your palm high enough on his thigh to stagger into the inappropriate.

The only time he's safe is at work. And even then, you're on his mind constantly.

Those pretty dresses you wear all the time, low-cut in the front and so short they hardly reach past your mid-thighs, in all colours of the rainbow. Those skimpy tops with the flowers on them and jeans-shorts or skirts he's more than once noticed are actually skorts.

He shouldn't be attracted to you. It's so wrong on so many levels. You're too young, much too young, twenty-two years younger than him. And - worse - he's best friends with your father.

He can't be attracted to his best friend's daughter. He simply can't.

It's wrong. It's so, so wrong.

But he can't help himself. He can't help himself when you brush up against him, when you touch him, when you look like that right in front of him.

He doesn't know how he survives those first weeks. He doesn't feel like he's alive, really. Every waking thought is of you - of you and of how wrong it is that he can't stop thinking about you. That he keeps imagining what it would be like to hold you, to kiss you, to-

No.

No, he can't.

Even though you're making it practically impossible for him.

And it's not like you really know what you're doing either. But ever since the car incident that very first day back home, you've been picturing those arms, those shoulders - and after the first time you caught sight of him working shirtless on some project in the backyard with your father, those fucking abs. All glistening, sweaty skin, that v-line, that happy trail...

It's not your fault he's starring in all of your late night fantasies now. It's his. It's his because he shouldn't be allowed to look that fucking good, to smell and sound and feel that good, when you can't have him. Because of course you can't.

He's twenty-two years older than you. He's your dad's new best friend.

You can't.

You can't flirt with him like you want to, you can't have him, because it would be wrong. But you also can't not.

You don't mean to taunt him, not at first. At first, it's just instincts. Talk to him, get his attention. But the more you're around him... the less you can control yourself.

You want to then. You want to graze your fingers across his thigh when your father isn't looking, you want to suck the straw of your drink into your mouth while you blink up at him, you want to accidentally drop your spoon and bend over in front of him. You want to because you know he wants you to.

Even though he doesn't say it, even though he forces himself to turn away when you walk by him, you see the way he looks at you. You catch him staring, you catch him eyeing you up and down. You notice the tick in his jaw and the way his fists clench at his sides. You watch his knuckles turn white as he grabs the neck of his beer bottle and takes a deep sip.

You know he's most definitely attracted to you.

Because even if you imagine half of those things - there's still the car incident. There's still your number saved in his phone. There's still 'darling' on your mind. Mostly the way he's repeated it since then, two or three times maybe, each one inspiring more sinful bedtime scenarios.

You can't.

He can't.

And yet neither of you doesn't.

...

Your parents are away when it happens. Your dad has to go on a trip for work and he takes your mother with him, surprises her with an extra weekend of romance just for the two of them. They're gone by Wednesday morning and won't be back until Sunday afternoon and even though you're twenty-five and have experience living on your own, they've asked Jake to check in on you, just to make sure you're okay.

The first time he 'checks in on you' is involuntary. He's just come back from work, it's Wednesday, 3pm, and he's sitting down on his back porch with a beer when he spots you.

He really doesn't mean to. He hadn't even known you were there.

But the fence between your house and his isn't high and so it's only natural that his eyes flick over to your garden once.

And then twice.

Because you're climbing out of the pool in the tiniest black bikini Jake has ever seen in his life, looking like some angelic, biblic, ancient goddess - your hair in a messy bun, droplets of water running down your bare skin, muscles working as you pull yourself up the little ladder and put both feet against solid, dry ground, leaving wet footprints with every step you take until you grab your towel, sling it around your shoulders and-

Look right at him.

Your lips tug into a flirty grin. You wave at him, your hand lingering in the air a second too long before you wrap the towel tightly around yourself and tread towards the fence. Jake can't do anything but watch you go and swallow hard.

The other option would probably be to drag you into his arms and ravage you until your throat is sore from screaming his name.

So he just sits there and stares at you instead.

"Hey there", you greet as soon as you're close enough to the fence that he can't look past your belly button anymore.

"Hey", Jake says and for whatever reason, his voice sounds raspy even to himself. Your grin only deepens.

"Do you have plans for dinner yet?", you ask. You bat your lashes at him innocently as you dry off your arms. "I was going to order take out."

So that's why three hours later, Jake rings your doorbell, in a black button up he spent twenty minutes picking out. The last time he'd spent that long in front of the closet, he'd been about fifteen years younger and about to go on an actual date. This isn't an actual date. This is anything but a date, because he's only supposed to check in on his best friend's daughter. He's supposed to look after you. Keep you safe.

But you open the door in an oversized, washed out band tee and smile so stunningly that he forgets what he's supposed to do in about half a second.

There's a moment of silence as Jake stares at you. He knows that damn band tee.

"Is that... mine?", he asks in disbelief as he waits for the sight to sink in, which it does not do. His mind blanks completely. It's not just that it's oversized and that you look like you're drowning in it, which already has him imagining the way he could flatten his palms against your stomach and feel for you in that heap of fabric. It's also that he knows this fucking shirt because he's been wearing it for the past ten years.

You look down like you're just realising what you have on, not like you'd almost had a heart attack when you'd seen it in the laundry basket, squealing so loudly that your mother had come in to check on you. Jake had worn that shirt the same day and apparently forgotten to put it back on when he'd gone home, so your mother had put it in the laundry.

She hadn't realised that you'd stolen it for yourself before she could wash it. She probably hadn't paid it that much attention.

You had though. And tonight had felt like the perfect occasion to wear it.

"I found it in the laundry", you say truthfully, looking up at him with big eyes. "Dad said it wasn't his so I just took it. Maybe a mix up. Do you want it back?"

Your fingers reach for the hem of the shirt down by your thighs, tugging mindlessly up just a tiny bit. Jake almost stumbles over his own words with how quick he is in denying you.

"No, no, keep it", he reassures. "Keep it."

You let go of the shirt as your grin widens.

"Okay then", you say softly, turn around and leave the door open so Jake can get in. You stroll into the kitchen, crack open the fridge and grab the freshly made iced tea while Jake closes the door behind him and puts away his shoes.

It could have easily been awkward. Honestly, Jake isn't sure that it's not. But it doesn't feel like that. It just feels... heavy. Drowsy. As though you're moving in slow motion, looking at him over your shoulder with a sultry grin. And in his shirt as well. His fucking shirt, it's unbelievable.

You're smiling at him over Chinese take out food with the radio playing softly in the background and the dim kitchen light on and it could have been almost normal, almost nothing, almost just a friendly dinner with his best friend's daughter.

But it isn't.

It isn't because you're leaning over the table and stealing a spring roll from him, grinning at him when he starts to protest. It isn't because you're pushing him back down onto his chair when he wants to get up and help you clear the table, leaning most definitely too close to him to grab his plate and bending most definitely too far down to put it into the dishwasher. It isn't because you're opening a bottle of whiskey, pouring him one and only then asking if he's going to stay and watch a movie with you.

You've already poured him the drink.

Not that he'd been planning to say no.

You're not close to him on the couch, not really. You're a respectful distance away as you put your own drink onto the table in front of you and grab the remote. You're still a respectful distance away as you scroll through a bunch of movies and ask him if he's got any preferences - besides football, of course.

But when you decide on a movie, on one of those rom-coms he'd never watch willingly, you're draping your legs over his and brushing your hair away from your face and he has to swallow hard.

His hands drop to your bare skin almost instinctively. He can't keep them off of you, not when you're this close to him, not when you're offering so prettily. It's like he has to touch you, has to brush his thumbs across your ankles.

This could all be normal. This could all be usual.

Jake doesn't bother paying attention to the movie. It's not like he could possibly pay attention to it, not when his fingers are running up and down your soft skin. So he doesn't really mind that he misses their first kiss, even as you look up from the drink you're refilling with a gasp and wide eyes to watch.

Jake just watches the way your hair frames your face, those droplets of iced tea on your lips before you wipe them off. He's sure he could taste them if he tried to.

You lean back into the couch then and stretch and your shirt - Jake's shirt - rides so far up that he catches sight of your underwear. Fuck.

He has to grab onto you hard so that he doesn't launch himself right on top of you. His mouth is dry all of a sudden, so dry that he has to swallow. You blink up at him as you feel his hands clench around your ankles, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to keep from grinning.

He needs a few seconds to even look up at you. It's like his eyes are glued to that expanse of bare skin at your hip, clinging to the thought of you in your underwear right before him. You're always wearing shorts. You're always wearing shorts. You're always fucking wearing shorts.

Shit.

He shouldn't. He can't.

But his hands brush up your calves and he does look back at you then, which really isn't better, because your lip is still caught between your teeth and your expression is so sinful that he has to bite down on his own tongue.

"Jake", you breathe, all soft and quiet and that's it. That's his breaking point.

You can't just say his fucking name like that, not in his shirt, not while presenting him such a good look at your underwear, and expect him to be okay.

"Fuck", he mutters, then he's on you.

It's an uncomfortable position. You're half turned to him, half away, your legs are still thrown over his lap, which means he can't really push close to you, but his lips are against yours, so firmly, so passionately that you can't care, not right then.

Your eyes fall shut and you kiss him back with the same fervor, the same heat, the same fucking desperation to finally feel him. You part you lips almost too eagerly, too quickly, just so he can stroke his tongue along yours. His hands dig into your thighs, grabbing you tightly, and your arms cross behind his neck to drag him down to you - just that your legs are really in the way now and you have to try and pry one from his lap so that he doesn't crush it, which isn't all that comfortable and takes a while too long to still be sexy. You hardly mind. Jake doesn't either, only pulls his knees up to the couch to climb on top of you.

The whole thing is complicated and annoying and decidedly too time consuming, but his lips are on yours and he's pressing against you, catching himself with a palm against the couch cushions and lowering you to lie down, every single touch frenzied and hurried and hot. Heady and heavy and horny.

You're dragging your hands through his hair, tugging, pulling, scratching your nails across his scalp. He's grabbing your hips with his free hand, grasping your thighs, tangling his fingers in your shirt and digging them into your skin.

You're grinding against him. Not softly, not carefully, not secretly. You're wrapping your legs around him and grinding against him, almost without realising it - you need to be close, you need to be closer. You need to move. You need to feel him.

At the first moan you let out, Jake stills. When you breathily add his name, he pulls back entirely.

It's cold and empty without him, cold and empty and confusing as he settles back on his ankles, panting and wide-eyed. Your arms and legs drop to the couch as you try to catch your breath.

"No", Jake mutters. "We can't."

You push yourself up onto your palms, chest still heaving as you look up at him. Your cheeks feel so hot that you're sure they're embarrassingly red by now and your mind is still hazy with what just happened -

Jake had kissed you. He'd kissed you and you'd kissed him back.

And now he isn't kissing you anymore and you're absolutely not alright with that. You need him to kiss you again. You need to dig your hands into his hair and feel him knead your thighs again. You need to find out what it's like to rake your nails along his arms and scratch down his back.

"Jake", you breathe, staring at him all wide-eyed as he shakes his head and inches even further away from you. He seems like he's in a trance. You repeat his name more forcefully and reach out for him - but he only shakes his head again and runs a hand down his face.

You still for the entirety of two seconds. Then you sit up, inches closer to him than necessary, and toy with the hem of your shirt. You've got a hunch that giving and taking the sight of your underwear will only help your case here.

"Why not?", you ask as you watch his eyes drop down, just like you'd wanted. His breath catches.

"You're twenty-five", he begins, his voice a bit too rough to sound unaffected. "And I'm friends with your father."

You take a long look at him.

"Would you if you weren't friends with my father?"

You bite down on your lip and blink up at him as prettily as you can manage. You're quite sure you know the answer. Especially with that car incident... With your number saved in his phone. With that smug grin you still see in your fantasies.

He hadn't been too concerned with your age back then.

"I am friends with your father", Jake says, all the while struggling to drag his eyes back up your body.

"But if you weren't", you go on, not ready just yet to leave this be - because you know that if you back down now, you'll never get a chance again. Not like this. Not with him. "If you weren't friends with my father. Would you?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw. You hold your breath - one, two, three seconds. Then he's on you yet again and this time, this time with no end in sight. Not as he pushes you back down onto the couch and sets both his palms down next to your head. Not as you wrap your legs around his waist and work the buttons of his shirt, fingers moving so frantically that you slip up more than once - not that you care.

You're kissing Jake. After what has felt like an eternity of teasing and quietly flirting, you're finally kissing him, touching him, feeling him. On top of you, all around you.

Yes, he fucking would. You were right.

His shirt finally unbuttons and you can hardly push it out of the way quickly enough to run your hands down his chest - exploring his collarbones, his abs, that fucking happy trail that has been driving you insane ever since you saw it for the first time. Your fingers brush bare skin, warm, hot, bare skin, before they catch on his waistband. He grinds his hips onto yours as you draw your fingertips along his belt and swallows the moan you so pathetically let out.

You're just about to get to work on opening his belt buckle when he shifts his weight onto one hand and grasps your wrist with the other, pulling an inch away from you as he does so, lips parting in sticky intoxication.

"Jake", you mewl, but when you blink open your eyes he's already shaking his head softly and- grinning. Grinning that smug grin that you've been dreaming of. The one you haven't seen since the very first time you met him. Not with your dad around or directed at anyone else, no. The grin that takes your breath away right then, and you can't even tell why.

It's confident and cocky and cheeky and so, so very, very sexy. Fuck.

You stare at him with wide eyes and parted lips, too caught up in taking him in to notice how he's bringing both your hands up over your head.

"If we're doing this, I'm doing it right, darling", he mutters, all low and rough and the pet name has you clamping your thighs even harder around him. "And only if you want me to."

You can't nod quickly enough.

"I need you to tell me, baby", he grins, exposing those pearly whites that you'd very much like to feel biting into your neck or something. "I need you to say yes."

"Yes, Jake", you push past your lips, breathless and panting and desperate. Desperate for him. "Please."

His chuckle reverberates in your own chest. He runs his hand down your side and rubs a soft circle against the bare skin of your hip, catching on the flimsy fabric of your underwear.

"Already begging for me", he mutters with a grin, his fingers hooking into your waistband. Your hips buck up into his and a moan drops from your lips and Jake just keeps on grinning. Keeps on running his thumbs along your hip bones. "That easily."

You can't even deny it, deny him. You need him to touch you and you need him to do it now.

"You're lucky I want to taste you, because I'm sure it'd be fun to tease you", he chuckles, holds you down against the couch as he sits back on his ankles, keeping your legs spread and the dark spot on your underwear right on display for him. "I could keep you here all night."

You're not sure what excites you more - the promise of all night or the tasting you part. Either way, you bury your hands into your own hair and tug hard to keep yourself from sitting up, pushing him onto his back and riding him into oblivion. He wouldn't let you anyway, you're guessing.

Jake runs his free hand down the inside of your thigh and you really have to concentrate on not moving then. Every touch, every brush and every stroke sends shivers down your spine and pools in your core, heating up each inch of your skin.

When he reaches your underwear once more, he hooks his second thumb into it as well and tugs. Your jaw clenches. God, you've gotta keep still, you've just gotta wait-

He looks up then and raises his eyebrows.

"Please, Jake", you breathe, before he can even say anything. His eyes drop again and he pulls your underwear down, down, down, pushing your knees together to slide them off your legs and you're holding your breath, holding your breath in this intoxicating mess of a moment as he parts your thighs again and leans in. Leans closer.

Leans... not close enough.

Instead, he grabs the hem of your shirt.

"As much as I like that you're wearing my shirt", he mutters, already pushing it up and exposing your stomach to him, "I want to see you."

You let out a pathetic little moan, loosen your hands from your hair and pull his shirt over your head instead, dropping it down onto the floor without looking or bothering where it lands. You're not really bothered about anything besides getting Jake's mouth on you right now.

You're dripping already, dripping down your own thighs as he takes you in - all naked, all bare in front of him, soft skin and smooth curves, chest rising and falling with your heavy breath, eyes half-closed, lips parted and kiss-swollen.

It's wrong. He shouldn't. But he's already gone too far and now, now, with all of you for him to see, to touch, to feel, he can't go back. He can't ever go back.

He wants to burn this image into his memory forever.

"Jake", you whisper, voice just as soft and silky as the rest of you and he snaps out of his trance, runs his fingertips over your stomach, studies you as your breath catches. He leans down again, but his eyes are fixed on you still, focused even as he presses a kiss to your hipbone, then to the inside of your thigh. His teeth graze your skin and his fingers brush against the underside of your boobs.

Fuck.

You bite down on your lip.

Jake thinks he might be in heaven as he palms at your breasts, swiping his thumbs across your nipples and watching your expression change ever so slightly. He breathes against your wetness and his eyes flicker down to finally look at you, dripping for him. His fingers still for just a moment.

If he does this, there's no going back. He's crossing a line that he can never uncross.

But in all honesty - he's already long crossed that line.

So he flattens his tongue against you and tastes you. And you throw you head back and let out a moan that's so filthy that he can't even be bothered to care about what fucking lines he's crossing anymore. He just buries his face in your wetness and basks in the way your eyes roll back into your head.

Your hands dig into his hair all by themselves, tug and pull and push him closer, further into you. You taste heavenly. You are in heaven. You're in heaven with Jake between your legs, brushing his tongue through your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth and groaning into you. He's running his fingers over your breasts, palming and grasping at them, circling and tracing.

That's when the movie stops.

You hadn't even realised it was still on, to be honest, but now, in the silence, your moans echo three times as loud. Jake bathes in the sounds you're letting out. You're absolutely gorgeous like that, teeth tugging at your bottom lip, cheeks flushed, eyes fluttering closed before you blink them open again to look at him, to watch him as he lays between your thighs.

You're soaking in the way he swipes his tongue against you, the way he palms at your skin. With every touch and every brush, you can feel the knot tightening. Can feel the tension in your limbs growing. Can feel the way your legs are starting to clamp tighter, tighter and tighter around Jake's head.

He's so good at this. He's so fucking good at this.

Your grip on his hair tightens so much that you're sure you have to be hurting him, but he doesn't show the slightest hint of wanting to tell you off for it. No, quite the opposite: he pushes further into you and groans his approval.

Which is about the last thing you can take.

Your legs cramp, your hands drag at his hair, your back arches, your head hits the armrest of the couch and Jake guides you through your high, eyes set on you, focused and fixed on you, watching every single reaction you have to him, drinking in the sight of you, drinking in your moans. You're pushing back against him, panting and clawing at him, lips parted and eyes shut tightly as you take in a shaky breath and sink slowly back against the couch.

The air is heavy. Heavy with your emotions, heavy with your orgasm, heavy with your moans.

Jake pulls back slowly, softly, draws his hands down to your stomach to rub circles onto your skin - significantly warmer now than before. You're still breathing heavily, legs unhooking from around his head only reluctantly. Honestly, you wouldn't have minded if he'd just decided to stay down there for the next three to five business days. But you also don't mind as he pushes himself up and presses a kiss to your lips, because he tastes like you and you get to hook your arms around his neck and pull him even further down onto you.

With his half-bare chest pushed against yours, his tongue runs along your lips and you open willingly up to him. More than just willingly. Because with him on top of you, his lips sticky and syrupy on yours, not wanting or not able to part from yours, there's already anticipation running in your veins, wetness pooling in your core again, the urge to wrap your legs around him and grind against him growing and growing with every second that he's kissing you.

You draw your hands down his throat, push his shirt out of the way and brush your palms down his bare torso, all hard abs against your fingertips. He's in such good fucking shape you could truly be running your hands up and down a washboard right now. It feels unfair that he's more than twenty years older than you and somehow fitter.

Your fingers catch on his waistband then.

"Jake", you whine softly against him. "Please, I need you."

He groans, drops his head down to your neck and for a second, you just hear him breathe - all hot and heavy before his lips graze your skin.

"Fuck, you can't say that, darling", he mutters. "You don't know what you do to me."

His belt buckle feels cold against your fingertips, so cold against your sticky, sweaty skin.

"Show me", you whine, beg, plead. He's not teasing you, not taking his time, he's not waiting or edging or anything, and still- Still, you're so fucking desperate. He's finally got you here, finally, and as much as you're sure you'd enjoy his teasing... You just need him to fuck you. Now.

Jake chuckles breathily as he raises his head to look down at you. There's that grin again. That fucking grin.

Then he plants that grin onto your lips and you moan softly, hooking your fingers into his belt and pulling hard. You've just started loosening it successfully when he sits back onto his ankles, leaves you cold and lonely and fully naked on the couch. You mewl.

"Jake-", you let out, but he's already standing up, climbing off of the couch and you're sitting up as if in trance, just to follow him, whatever it is that he has in mind.

He slips off his shoes before he starts to work his belt and then lets that fall to the ground too. You reach for him instinctively, drawing your fingertips along his thighs as he pops the button of his jeans and pulls down his zipper, but when he hooks his thumbs beneath his waistband and tugs down, something snaps inside of you.

"Wait", you whisper. "Let me."

You reach out for him and graze your fingers along his waistband, taking a breath as your eyes flutter up at him. He swallows hard, lets his arms drop to his sides and nods heavily. God, he looks so fucking attractive. His hair all messy, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed solely on you. You make sure to work quickly, almost frenzied, hurriedly pulling down his jeans and taking his briefs right with them. You won't spend unnecessary time on unimportant things.

Your breath catches, palms stilling against his thighs.

Fuck.

Jake's hand twitches, then clenches into a fist. But he stays right where he is, doesn't move an inch. Everything in him screams at him to run his fingers through your hair and guide you closer to him - but he doesn't. He won't. Not tonight, not right now. Right now, he wants to give you every out he can. Just in case you want to take it.

You don't. Of course not.

Not when you can see just how much he's holding himself back.

So instead you lean down and kitten-lick his tip. His hand flexes, again, and even though he lets out a deep groan that will surely echo in your head for the next two weeks, he stays still.

You just wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and take him into your mouth.

He has to close his eyes and tilt his head up to keep from bucking into you. Damn, it hasn't even been that long since he got blown. And he didn't react like a teenager then. But something about your warm, wet mouth, something about the way your dainty fingers reach around him, something about how you eagerly take him so far that he hits the back of your throat, something about that soft little gagging noise you make just before you pull off of him to breathe in deeply-

Fuck, you're making this really hard for him.

"Jake", you mutter, your hand still working him. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, looks down at you sitting there on the couch, completely naked, eyes all wide and cheeks flushed and so fucking stunning. His fingers brush along your forehead, tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

"Jake", you repeat, a little more breathlessly this time. "Don't hold back for me. I won't break."

His jaw clenches again, but you just blink up at him, the weight of your words heavy between you. His eyes roam your face for any sign of uncertainty - then he nods. He'd like to disagree, though. He's more than afraid he'll break you.

You're so young, so sweet, so fragile.

Just not innocent. And you feel like you have to remind him of that - of your more than obvious flirting, of your sultry grins and half-naked hints, of your number sitting so unashamedly in his contacts.

So you lean in again, pull your free hand from his thigh and grab his wrist instead, dragging it away from your cheek and planting it on the back of your head as you wrap your lips around him. He takes a shallow breath and your hand drops back down to his thigh. There's one, two seconds in which your eyes just flutter closed and your nails dig into his skin-

Then, finally, fucking finally! Jake tangles his fingers into your hair and pushes you into him. You loosen your hand from around him and put it against his other thigh, allowing him to pull you closer and closer. You breathe deeply through your nose as Jake groans above you - and it takes everything in you not to grin. Instead, you just let him guide you, blink open your eyes to look at him and try to ignore the arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. He looks so fucking good, it should truly be forbidden, because now you have to press your legs together and steady your palms against him.

Jake feels about the same. His breathing is heavy, his grip on your hair firm, and his eyes are set on you - on how he disappears inside your mouth, again and again, your spit coating him, your throat tight. He can't help but push you down, one time, two times, and pull you back, three times, four times, then push you down and pull you back again. And again. And again. He can hardly concentrate on how good you're making him feel when you're looking that fucking sinful.

Shit.

Before he can come right then and there in your mouth, he tugs you off fully, his jaw clenching involuntarily at the soft whine you let slip. But you can barely be truly bothered when he leans down and presses his lips to yours instead. You're not bothered about anything, really - about anything but his tongue against yours as you cross your arms behind his neck and draw him in, your hands dragging into his hair, your mouth moving desperately against his, sloppily, silently begging him for more.

Jake steadies his palms against the back rest and pulls away heavily, breathing hard as you open your eyes again to look at him - half-lidded, all languid and slow. He swallows hard.

"Do you-", he starts, his voice low and rough and you nod, letting your arms drop from around him to point at the side table.

Have a condom, he'd wanted to ask. In any other situation, he'd have one himself, but something about bringing condoms for a check in on his best friends daughter would have felt incredibly wrong.

"In my makeup bag", you say, your voice thin and breathy as he stretches and reaches for the lavender coloured pouch, unzipping it and looking for the condoms between all the brushes and lipglosses. He can barely pull one out before your fingers close around it, before you've carefully torn it open. He drops your makeup bag back onto the side table right as you straighten up to press a kiss to his lips - almost innocent, almost, if it weren't for the taste of him on your tongue. Then you press a kiss onto his collarbone. Then one right onto his abs. Then one just above that happy trail that has been driving you fucking insane. And then, then, you run your tongue over his tip again before you roll the condom onto him.

Which means it's his turn.

And he doesn't hesitate.

He's not rough in the way he pushes you onto your back on the couch, no, he's smooth with it, hands running along your skin as he cages you in, as he rests his arms next to your head - but he's firm nonetheless. He takes control easily, moving you how and where he wants to, claiming your mouth, pressing his lips to yours. You let him. More even, you relish in giving in to him, in giving him control, in letting go, in trusting him. You bathe in his kisses, in his touches, in his soft grunts as he guides himself into you.

"Jake", you whine against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, eyes falling shut. The stretch is delicious, heavenly. He fills you slowly, dragging his lips down your throat as you tilt your head back and let out a filthy moan. Your legs wrap around him, pull him closer. His teeth graze your neck, drawing a moan from you as he settles. He gives you a moment to adjust.

A moment too long.

Way too long.

Even with his lips on your skin, with your nails dragging down his neck, digging into his shoulders, even with him inside of you, you need more. You need him to move. Right fucking now.

"Jake", you mewl, your eyes fluttering open. He raises his head to look at you and- Fuck, good lord. You've messed up his hair and his pupils are wide and his cheeks are red and he looks fucking heavenly. So heavenly that your breath catches. You forget what you wanted to say for a moment. Then his thumb brushes your cheek and you remember.

"Move", you breathe, digging your fingers into his skin and wrapping your legs around him tightly. You need him to move. But his lips tug up in that grin again and, as quickly as you can, you add- "Please, Jake."

His grin widens as he looks down at you, all pretty and desperate, clenching around him, lips parting in a silent moan. It would be so easy to tease you, so easy to make you beg and plead for him... And you'd look so gorgeous doing it. You're already so eager to please him.

But not tonight. Not right now. Right now, he just needs to make you feel good. So he leans down, presses a kiss to your lips and moves. Finally.

You open up to him eagerly, letting him run his tongue along yours, moaning into him as he thrusts into you. Deep and languid, hitting all the right spots like no one has before. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

You're really doing this. He's really doing this. You claw at his back, scratch down his skin, sure to leave bruises as he pulls his head up to look at you, to watch the way you arch up into him. Your skin glistens with sweat, your lips part to let out a breathy mewl and the coil in your stomach tightens, tightens, tightens.

Jake shifts his weight onto one arm, frees a hand to brush his fingers through your hair, tugging, tilting your head back, exposing your throat to him. You moan at the ceiling as he drops a filthy kiss onto your collarbone before he lets go of your hair again, trailing his hand down your side instead - and his hand is so fucking big, so big as he draws it down your body, brushing his fingertips over your boob, sweeping over your hip, grasping your thigh. You pull him down onto you, crash your lips back onto his hard. You need to feel him, you need to kiss him, you need to hold him right now. You need him. You need this.

He smoothes his fingers down your skin until they catch on your clit.

"Jake", you moan into his mouth, pathetic even to your own ears. He only grins into the kiss and circles your clit as he thrusts into you, again and again and again, your legs clenching harder and harder and harder around him before he pulls away, pulls even further away even though you chase after his lips, his eyes roaming your face as you squeeze yours shut tightly.

"Look at me, darling", he drawls, his voice low and raspy, his fingers rough against your clit. "Look at me when I'm fucking you."

You let out some kind of deranged moan at his crude wording, opening your eyes and blinking up at him because there's no fucking way you can deny him. Not when he calls you darling like that. Not when he thrusts inside you just right. Not when the view of him, messy hair and grinning and all, has you clenching around him this hard.

You're close. So close.

"Atta girl", he mutters, and that does it for you.

Your legs cramp and your lips part again to let out a gorgeous little moan that Jake swallows up immediately, slotting his mouth over yours and drinking up the way you clench around him. It takes everything in him not to come too. You're so fucking pretty and you're clenching so fucking perfectly around him, but he needs to make you feel good first, he needs to make you come first, he needs...

"Jake", you mewl, face scrunched up, back arched, as he guides you through your second high of the night. "Fuck, fuck."

He's grinning when you come down. You grab his hand and pull it away from your clit. It's too much right now, too much. It takes a second for you to even realise that he's stopped moving entirely, too focused on watching you, on drinking up the sight of you, tousled hair and red cheeks and parted lips and all. You look like an angel, so fucking heavenly that he can't believe his eyes, not really.

"Jake", you mutter, slurring his name so prettily and pulling him in for another kiss, your arms loose around his neck, your fingers lazily brushing through his hair. "Come for me?"

It's barely more than a breath, barely more than a whisper onto his lips, but he hears it, oh, he hears it. He lets out a groan as he draws away again, his eyes roaming your face. You're unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.

You're asking him to come for you. Begging him to come for you.

And there's no grin in sight, no smug smile, no hint of trying to take control of him - it's not a command, not even close, you're actually, genuinely pleading, your eyes half-lidded and barely focusing, just needing him to feel good now, too.

You're really fucking unbelievable.

He can't remember ever having a woman ask him to come.

He kisses you so hard you become dizzy, pressing his lips onto yours and tangling a hand into your hair. He pushes impossibly closer, thrusts back into you and pulls another string of moans from you, bordering on incomprehensible, hardly more than breaths, mewls that he swallows before they can flee into the empty air of the living room.

His own breathing comes in pants, his muscles clenching and tensing and he's there quicker than he thought he'd be. He's close, really close, and that's when you decide to dig your teeth into his lip and tug and fuck, he's there, alright. He's done then. He spills inside you with a groan, pulling back right as you flash him a dazed grin, eyes fluttering open to take him in.

Your throat feels way too dry all of a sudden.

You don't think you'll get this image out of your head ever again, this image of him coming undone on top of you. It's burning itself into your memory while you watch, never to be forgotten.

Because hell no, you won't forget this.

"Fuck", Jake groans, his voice all rough and hoarse and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips again, slow this time, almost soft. He brushes a thumb down your cheek, lightly cups your jaw and pulls you even closer, your skin warm beneath his fingers.

You tighten your arms around his neck a bit, keeping him firmly there, firmly on top of you, firmly inside of you. But he makes no move to leave, anyway. Just runs his tongue tenderly along yours, unhurried and gentle, and holds you close. You don't know for how long. He could've kept you there for eternity and you wouldn't have minded. How could you mind, basking in the afterglow like this, with his skin sticking to yours, his fingers grazing your cheek, his lips brushing against yours? No, really, you could've stayed there for the rest of forever.

But he pulls back after a while, of course, and pulls out, too. You let out some kind of disappointed mewl, but that's about everything you can do before he gently grasps your wrists and pulls your arms from around him, smiling in a way you can't even begin to complain.

"Lets get you cleaned up, darling", he says softly, carefully helping you sit up, his hands everywhere but nowhere nearly long enough.

You sigh dramatically, blinking your eyes open to look at him, even as you let him pull you up. Your legs feel like pudding. You feel like pudding.

"If we have to", you give in, smiling as Jake grins and shakes his head at you.

"We have to", he chuckles, hauls you up into his arms and waits for you to hold onto him before he carries you into the bathroom - seemingly fucking without any problem whatsoever, as if you weigh nothing at all to him.

You bite down on your lip and rest your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut to not have to look at him while you contemplate his strength. He should not be this fucking strong. He should not be allowed to be this fucking strong.

"Careful", Jake says, his voice low, as he sets you gently down on the toilet seat. You flinch away from the ice-cold seat against your thighs, fingernails digging into his shoulders for one, two, three seconds before you relax and settle down.

Jake lets go of you just as softly, steadying you until he's sure you won't just fall right off the toilet. He turns and you look up, his back right there to stare at, a smile tugging at your lips again - goddamn, he looks way too good, holy shit. You barely hear the garbage can open and close as he throws away the used condom, then rummages through the drawers until he finds a washcloth that he can soak in luke warm water.

He turns with a smile, grabs your chin tenderly and presses a kiss to your lips, just one, all sweet and languid, so unlike the rest of his kisses. You hardly notice that he's cleaning you off as he kneels down in front of you, simply because you're so entranced by him. God, but he really looks like he's fucking glowing, you hate him for having this effect on you.

He wraps his arms around you again - did he put the washcloth away? fuck, did you miss that? - and you cuddle close, almost (but just almost) letting out a pleased sigh. Fuck, he's so broad and so strong and so comfortable...

He sets you down on the couch and smiles.

"Wait here for me, darling", he mutters, bending down to pick up your shirt (his shirt, really) and slide it carefully over your head once again. You hug yourself close and settle deep into the couch as Jake disappears. His steps echo through the house.

Then there's silence.

Absolute silence.

You rest your head against the headrest and close your eyes, your fingertips absentmindedly drawing circles against your heated skin.

And in this quiet emptiness... the reality of the situation finally sinks in.

For the first time.

Because you just slept with Jake Seresin.

Jake Seresin. Your neighbour Jake Seresin. Your dad's best friend Jake Seresin. Twenty-two years older than you Jake Seresin.

Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit.

This actually happened. This actually fucking happened. You slept with Jake Seresin. And somehow... somehow- Somehow you can't feel guilty. You can't feel bad or ashamed. Not like you should. And you definitely should. Because this is Jake Seresin, not some random frat guy. This is forty-seven year old, your dad's best friend Jake Seresin.

But you can't feel bad.

You really do try, for the entirety of a minute or two, while somewhere in the back of the house, a door is opened and closed again. But you still can't feel bad. So you don't.

Jake comes back with a water bottle and his briefs back on, which you can't help but feel disappointed at. He sits down on the couch next to you and hands you the bottle.

"Drink", he nods, so you uncap it carefully and take a sip. It's charming, really, how the first time you'd met him with your car broken down, he'd also handed you a water bottle. A grin tugs at your lips involuntarily. It's just coincidence, you know that, but there's something incredibly sweet about the way he's seemingly always made sure to keep you hydrated. There's something sweet about him, simple as that, with how softly he's cleaned you off and settled you down on the couch after.

You put the bottle down on the table and turn to him.

He looks almost normal again, almost like before. He's still nearly naked though (which you certainly aren't complaining about), and his hair still looks like he's just walked straight out of a hurricane. He raises his eyebrows at you as you take him in.

"We should probably talk about this", you say, your voice cracking halfway through. You're not sure you want to talk about it. And with the way Jake's face falls... yeah, he doesn't seem to, either. But he still straightens up and brings some more distance between the both of you.

Maybe that's smart, actually. Maybe. But then again, you've already done everything you could to try and feel bad, so instead of doing the reasonable (you're already way past the reasonable anyway) and pushing further away from Jake too, you stretch out a leg and drape it over his lap again.

A muscle in his jaw ticks and he grasps your ankle almost immediately, as if there's no other choice but to touch you even while he's trying to keep his distance.

"But", you grin, scooching a little closer as an idea forms in your mind, "You know, I still have to shower. Chlorine is so bad for the skin unless you wash it off. And I did spend quite a while in the pool today."

...

It's Monday afternoon and even hotter than the weeks before. You're sitting outside, sunbathing in the fifteenth layer of sunscreen of the day, with sunglasses on that hardly seem to do anything and wearing nothing but a bikini because god, you're fucking melting. It hasn't been this hot the entire year.

The only really good thing about the scorching heat is that Jake, for lack of swimming pools in his garden, is doing sets in yours. You're incredibly glad for your sunglasses, because even though your mother is sitting right next to you, burying her nose in another of the novels she'd checked out from the library two weeks earlier, you can ogle Jake without worrying that she'll catch you.

And goddamn, you're ogling, alright.

It's not like you haven't stared at him enough. Over the past five days, you've barely been doing anything else. Well, except for those times you'd had your eyes closed and his lips on yours, of course. But still, you don't really feel like you could ever possibly get enough of staring at him.

And right now, right now, with the way he climbs out of the pool, arms tensing and flexing, water dropping down his skin, his hands running through his soaking wet hair...

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You bite down on your lip and press your thighs together. God, if you aren't careful, you'll have to disappear into the house and shower early, because you're sure you could not pass the dark spot on your bikini bottoms off as sweat.

Jake turns away to grab his towel and starts to dry off and you're already mulling over how you'll phrase the message you'll send him (something along the lines of 'tell my parents you need to use the bathroom' with a shower selfie attached? You've already sent him way worse things while he'd been at work) when your mother suddenly gasps.

Three heads turn to her simultaneously.

"Jake!", she chokes, her book sinking down into her lap. Jake raises his eyebrows at her, just as clueless as you are. She parts her lips and then clamps her mouth shut again, apparently lost for words. "Your back."

It hits you like a tidal wave.

Oh, shit. Oh, holy fucking shit.

You should've noticed earlier. Much earlier. You should've- God, he'd known, too, hadn't he? But you'd been the one to stare at his back long enough that you should've noticed. Yesterday. You should've noticed the long, red lines running down his skin. Your long, red lines running down his skin. Fuck, fuck-

"Oh, that-"

Jake stumbles over his own words for the first time ever since you've met him. His eyes find yours, for just a moment or two, and you can see the panic in them. It's the second fucking day your parents are back. The second fucking day. And you're already messing up, you're already-

"I knew it", your mother grins, clapping her hands together and letting out a laugh that startles you so hard you flinch. "I knew you were a womanizer after all! I mean, looking like that, there's no other way-"

"Honey!", your father gasps, and she giggles and throws her hands up. But he's grinning too and you know him well enough to say he isn't really mad that she's complimenting Jake.

"Sorry, sorry, just saying." She chuckles to herself and grabs her book again, her voice dropping to a mumble. "I can't believe it though, we go away for five days and suddenly he's hooking up with someone! I think we need to stop inviting him over so often if we want him to find somebody."

Your father laughs and gets up to offer Jake a beer.

"You didn't happen to see who he brought home, did you?", your mother asks, her voice almost too casual to really be casual as she turns her head to look at you with raised eyebrows.

You choke on your breath.

"Um-", you start, but your father already rolls his eyes and saves you without meaning to.

"You're not nosy at all", he chides, resting his beer bottle against her foot. She tugs it away and shakes her head at him.

"Just curious", she grins. "Just curious."

Yeah. Just curious. You pray to god that just curious won't one day expose the little secret you've got going on with Jake. Next time, you'll really have to be more careful with your nails.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #dbf!jake seresin #dbf!jake seresin smut #x reader #dbf!jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

dbf!jake x innocent!reader (maybe who's still a virgin) and finding out he has a corruption kink i can't ...

i let this sit in my inbox untouched for so long because i couldn't decide whether or not i'm into it - but currently i'm experiencing something of a writer's block, soooo. i've decided to give it a try lmao

tw: dbf!jake has a corruption kink, reader is VERY innocent, it's not explicitly stated she's a virgin but it's very much implied, dom!jake, this is less smut and more talk actually but anyway, mentions of oral sex, also good girl

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

You pull back from Jake with wide eyes, panting - embarrassingly so - and clutching at his shirt, angling yourself away. He's turned on, you can feel it, can feel him, pressing into you, pressing against his jeans. And you're wet, you're soaked, you can feel that, too.

It hadn't even been supposed to go this far. It had been a kiss, just one, all sweet and intimate while you'd watched tv. And then there had been a second one. And a third. And somehow, you'd ended up in his lap, pulling at his hair and whining into his mouth. But the moment you rock against him and feel his bulge... You have to pull back.

"There's no rush, darling", he mutters, trailing his fingertips down your cheek and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "I won't do anything you don't-"

"What if I do?", you breathe, clenching your hands into his shirt to keep them from trembling. You don't even know just why they're trembling - maybe because you're so nervous, or maybe because you're so turned on.

"You do?", Jake asks with raised eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

You bite down on your lip and nod.

"Are you really sure?", he asks again. "Because if you're not-"

"Fuck me, Jake", you breathe, your cheeks heating up, your breath quickening. God, had you really just said that? Had you- Holy shit, you'd really just said that. You'd never said anything like that. Never. You'd barely even come close to thinking it.

Jake's eyes widen. Then his hands tighten around your waist, so hard that you gasp out a breath.

"What did you say?", he mutters, dragging his fingers down to your hips. You chew on your lip and stare at the air next to his head. Anywhere else but at him. Anywhere else but at his eyes. There's no way you can repeat yourself. No fucking way. You can hardly believe you said it in the first place.

"I asked you a question, darling", Jake repeats, and even though you try your best not to look at him, not to see that grin tugging at his lips, you can hear it in his voice. "What did you say?"

"I-", you start, stop, and then take a deep breath. No, there's no way. Absolutely no way.

"Come on, speak up", he urges, his hands trailing lower and lower until his fingers circle against the bare skin of your thigh. His thumbs draw below the hem of your dress, then away again. "I know you can."

You dig your teeth into your lip and let your eyes flutter shut, trying to forget absolutely everything at all - the way his fingers feel, how hard he is, how wet you are - to ignore that this is really and truly happening. Pretending it's your imagination makes it a tad easier. A lot easier, if you're completely honest.

"Fuck me, Jake", you whisper, your breath catching.

His fingertips trail up, up, up your thighs-

"And now look at me", he says, his voice so low he's basically growling, not an ask, not even close, but a command, an order. If this is how he sounds at work, barking instructions left and right... "Look at me while you're asking me to fuck you."

"Jake-", you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut even harder. You can feel yourself growing wetter by the second. Fuck, his tone is sinful. And the way he's ordering you- But you just can't, you can't do it.

"Look at me", he repeats as he hooks his thumbs into your panties and tears another little gasp from your lips. Goddamn, you're so sweet. And there's something about your embarrassment, something about how you're unknowingly, unwillingly rocking your hips into his, something about how hard you're trying to not show your desperation, something about how at the very same time, you've already asked him to fuck you twice now.

You need him. It's obvious. And it's so fucking cute, it's adorable, how you both want and don't want to act on it. You're so unsure. And still-

Still, even despite all of your nervousness, you blink open your eyes and look at him, parted lips and flushed cheeks and all, your hands fisting his shirt. Because he's given you an order. And you follow his orders.

"Fuck me", you whisper, so quietly that he can just pick up on it.

His grin widens.

"Good girl", he rasps.

A moan tears from your tongue. Good girl. Holy shit. You'd only ever imagined hearing that, you'd never thought you'd actually get to. Which is why you never could have prepared for how hard it hits you - your legs clamping around his thighs, your eyes fluttering shut again, your hips bucking against his. Fuck.

Jake grunts as you rock so openly against him, his thumbs circling the bare skin below your panties, staggering into the inappropriate. It'd take him less than a moment to find out that you'd shaved this morning.

"Fuck me", you repeat, a little more confident now, and something about it steals his breath. "Please, Jake."

It takes eating you out and teaching you how to suck him off for him to understand just what about you affects him so much. He admits it in between desperate kisses a minute later - you deserve to know, to decide for yourself whether or not you've got a problem with it. You don't, of course, and he finds out a second later as you rock back against his hard-on and whine into his mouth. No, you certainly don't have a problem with it in the slightest.

#x reader #jake seresin x reader #dbf!jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun hangman #dbf!jake seresin #jake seresin smut

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

dbf!Jake with a little bit of grey in his hair I'm 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵 I don't know why that gets me but it does

you understand!!! you get it!!!! I swear this has fueled hours of my daydreams about him, I'm incredibly hyped to share those haha

jake refers to himself in third person once in this, and even though every time i read or write that i have to think about caesar and immediately hate it, jake would absolutely 100% do it so.

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

It's late as you stumble through Jake's doorway, your keys clanging against the wall and your shoes thumping to the floor. You can hear the tv playing in the living room, shouts and cheers that have you guessing he's watching a sports game.

You tread through the hallway and knock softly on the doorframe, a bit unnecessarily because Jake's head is long turned to you.

"Hey there", you greet, and you can do nothing at all against the smile tugging at your lips.

"Hey there", Jake echoes, at least an octave deeper than you. His eyes rake down your body - you're still in your work clothes, which is unusual. "D'you want a drink, darling?"

With a sigh, you push off the doorframe and pad over to the couch. Jake puts his beer bottle down on the table.

"No, I'm good. I don't need a drink", you mutter, letting yourself drop right onto his lap. He's freed his hands for a reason after all. "I just need you."

One of your palms steadies against his chest, the other brushes down his jaw, fingertips dragging circles against his skin - against his stubble, it's been a few days since he's shaved (and that truly is your favourite look on him) - as his arms wrap around your waist and pull you tightly to him.

"I'm here", he says with a smile.

"Yeah", you breathe, smiling right back at him. God, he turns your insides into mush. "I know."

He holds you close and settles back against the couch, his eyes focused on yours, content to have you on his lap, to have your hands on him. You can feel him relax by the second as your fingertips trail up and down his face - his jaw, his cheek, disappearing into his hair.

Suddenly, you still.

"Jake", you breathe and swallow hard. "Are you going grey?"

"What?", he mutters, his arms loosening from around you to grab for your thighs instead.

"You're going grey", you repeat, and pray you don't sound half as stunned as you feel. "Baby, you've got a grey streak."

Jake's hands tighten on you. If there was any way, any way at all, to look away from the strand of grey you'd spotted in his hair, you would - but you can't. You can't. There's absolutely no way you can drag your eyes off.

He's going grey. Your boyfriend is going grey.

"If you joke about how old I am now, I'll call your father", he mutters, but there's less joke in his tone than there should be. It takes you a second to realise why.

He's worried.

He's worried you're understanding just how old he is, that it's somehow bothering you, that it's turning you off.

The problem you are having is about the opposite.

Jake's grey streak doesn't turn you off. It turns you on.

You don't know why. You can't explain to yourself why. You don't really want to, either, because you're sure that's just going to end up being some fucked up psychology deep dive. It doesn't matter anyway. What matters is the way your legs clamp tightly around his, the way your fingers fist his shirt.

"Jake", you whisper, finally managing to drag your eyes away from his hair and to look back at him instead. He truly does seem worried - it's just hard to concentrate on that when you feel tingly and hot all of a sudden. But something in his expression changes the very moment you glance at him anyway. You think you can guess why.

You've never been all that good at hiding your emotions. And Jake had read you like an open book from the very beginning on.

Maybe your eyes are glazed over or half-lidded or something, maybe your cheeks are dusted pink, maybe your pupils are blown wide - you'd have to check a mirror to be sure, but you know that there must be something, something he sees that has him raising his eyebrows, that has a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're into this", he says, almost as though he can't really believe it.

You bite down on your lip and your eyes flicker back up to the grey in his hair.

"And what if I am, old man?", you mumble, playing at his age after all, trying to get at least a bit of leverage back, even though you already know you'll lose it just as quickly again.

Jake proves you right almost immediately - you can't even comprehend how fast he's turned you around, got your back pushed against the couch and your chest pressed to his.

"You like your old man", he mutters, his breath tickling your skin as you try to calm your racing pulse. Your old man, fuck. That shouldn't make your heart stutter the way it does. "And his grey streak too."

#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #dbf!jake seresin #dbf!jake seresin x reader #x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #hangman x reader

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

how about dbf!jake getting jealous? maybe over a younger guy? (who maybe even thinks he's her dad???)

OHMYGOD YES

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

Jake can't breathe. His chest is so tight it feels like someone has weighed him down with bricks. He wants to look away. He wants to look anywhere else. But there's no way he can take his eyes off of you. You, or the guy who's talking to you.

He'd only gotten up to order fresh drinks at the bar. He'd been gone for barely two minutes, but when he turns to check on you, there's already a guy standing in front of the little booth the two of you had claimed - and even from here, Jake can see that the smile you've put on is entirely fake.

It takes him exactly five seconds to decide that he can't care less about the drinks. He pushes through the crowd, rams his elbows into way too many people and ignores all of their insults completely. None of that matters.

"Is there a problem?", he growls when he's just a step away from the fucker talking to you. The guy turns to him and has the audacity to only look mildly surprised. He's young, that's the first thing Jake notices. He's about your age. Then Jake notices his service khakis. And then he notices nothing about the guy anymore, because he looks down at you and notices you - the way you're blinking up at him with wide eyes and seem visibly relieved he's back.

"No, sir", the guy says, before turning back at you and smiling. "I was just asking for your daughter's number."

Daughter.

Jake freezes.

Your phone hits the tabletop hard.

Both of you are too stunned to say anything. Your mouth opens and closes without a single word forming on your lips. Jake doesn't even feel like he exists for three seconds. Daughter. Yeah, damn, you're young enough to be his daughter. His daughter. His daughter. His daughter.

"Oh, I'm-", the guy frowns. "Did I say something wrong?"

You clench your jaw and get up, even as Jake keeps standing and staring and not saying anything at all. His mind is reeling. This entire thing would be way easier if the guy was an asshole. Then, maybe, Jake would just revisit his youth for about two minutes, knock the fucker out, throw you into the back of his truck and take you home. But the guy's not an asshole, not really, and the word daughter keeps running through Jake's head in an endless loop.

"Yes", you snarl, grab your phone and your purse and climb out of the booth. "Good night."

You tuck your arm into Jake's and want to pull him with you through the crowd and out of the bar- but your touch seems to suddenly un-freeze him. Within the blink of an eye, he's wrapped his arms around you and slotted your mouths together.

You let out a surprised squeak that melts into a pleased moan, your arms crossing behind Jake's neck all on their own, pressing closer, pushing against him-

"Oh", the guy says. He'd told you his name when he'd come over. You'd forgotten already. You don't really care about it anyway because Jake has his lips on yours, his hands on your waist, his fingers digging into your hips.

He pulls away far too quickly. You're disoriented for a moment too long, your heart hammering, your skin buzzing with heat. God, this man-

"Less dad and more daddy, I get it", the guy grins, and now he is starting to seem like an asshole. A muscle in Jake's jaw feathers. He draws his arms away from you and pulls yours off of his neck.

"Less petty officer, more admiral", Jake says. He doesn't give the asshole another glance. That barely navy fucker doesn't deserve another glance. "Let's get you home, darling."

#x reader #jake seresin x reader #dbf!jake seresin #dbf!jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #top gun jake seresin #top gun hangman

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Dad's Best Friend - Jake Seresin Masterlist

this is a masterlist with all my dbf!jake x reader works. yes, this was necessary lmao. they piled up and because they kind of all play in the same universe, i wanted them on a seperate list

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

⭑ is for allusions to smut † is for actual smut ▸ is for a little bit of angst     the rest is just pure fluff!!

Oneshots

† Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven - Flirting with the guy who fixed your car turns out to lead to much, much more when you find out he's actually not just some random guy, but your new neighbour and father's new best friend, Jake Seresin.

Blurbs

Grey Streak - You spot the first grey streak in Jake's hair and somehow, that gets you going.

Let Me Give You a Facial - Turns out, Jake likes being pampered just as much as you like pampering him.

⭑ Jealous - When a young petty officer hits on you at the bar, Jake gets a bit jealous.

† Caught (Almost) - It's really bad timing when your father walks through the back door while Jake is on his knees for you.

⭑ Innocent - You're very much ready to finally let Jake fuck you. Jake finds out he very much likes to teach you how.

⭑ Workout - Jake works out in the garage, and that's really just eye candy on a silver plate.

Aftercare - It shouldn't surprise anyone that Jake is the king of aftercare.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #dbf!jake seresin #dbf!jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #x reader #nav #masterlist #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut #hangman x reader #dbf!jake seresin smut

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

thinking about dbf!jake keeping in shape and you joining him for a work out

jake is fucking everything and dbf!jake is even more than that someone find a genie so i can wish for this please and thank you <33

i went a bit off-prompt but whateverrrrr!! mentions of sex, that's it, no other warnings here

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

"God", you mutter, biting down on your lip as you stop to behold this hunk of a fucking man right in your line of sight. He's sweaty and half-naked, his skin glistening, his muscles bulging. God, truly. Holy fucking shit. It's unbelievable that he looks like that. He's unbelievable.

"Just Jake", he grunts, pushing himself up into a plank and tilting his head up to look at you, flashing you one of those disarming grins. "But I'll take it, darling."

You shake your head with a chuckle as you lean against the doorway to the garage, letting your eyes trail over his back, along his arms, down to his legs before he's pushing himself up and straightening his back, offering you an even more charming look at his abs.

"Sometimes I feel so inadequate next to you, oh my god", you breathe - and you know you should meet his eyes, but you're too mesmerised to do that. You've seen him work out before. That doesn't mean it hits you any less hard.

"Don't say that." He shakes his head and walks over to you, reaching for your waist and pulling you with him into the garage. "You're gorgeous."

"Yeah", you whisper, your teeth digging into your lip as you rest your palms against his chest. Fuck, he's all rock-hard abs. You really need to get it together. "But you're ripped. And twenty years older than me. I don't think that's fair."

Jake chuckles and tugs you even closer to him, his hands splaying out against your waist. There's an inexpressible urge to rub your legs together. It takes way too much strength not to than it should.

"Darling, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen", he mutters, his eyes so fiercely on yours that there's no way you could possibly look away. He wouldn't let you anyway. He doesn't let you now. He's got you all wrapped up in him.

"Thanks", you breathe, your lips tugging up even as your eyelids flutter. "But that's not what I mean."

Jake raises his eyebrows and grins down at you.

"There's always room for two in here", he mutters, pressing the softest of kisses to your lips. You let out a hum as you smile at him.

"What, you want to fuck me in your gym?"

Your tone may be ironic, but truly, you can't say you haven't fantasised about it. There's barely anything you haven't fantasised about when it comes to him.

Jake chuckles and brushes a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"I was thinking a workout", he grins, leaning down to you again, his lips so close to yours that your eyes flutter shut in anticipation. "But I wouldn't mind that either."

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #dbf!jake seresin #dbf!jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

thinking about "twenty-five going on fourty-seven" dbf!jake where they're hooking up at it at his house when her dad comes in from the open backdoor and almost catches them together

HFGAGZFGAK YESYESYES THIS IS MAKING ME GO CRAZY OMFG- i swear the amount of times those two must've almost been caught!

Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven | top gun masterlist

i imagine this is two, three months into your 'relationship' already? like, at least. and jake and your dad are at the "back door's open any time for you" stage of their friendship already, so it's not uncommon for your father to just appear in his living room. but also he's at work, as far as you're concerned, and your mother's away with friends, so when jake gets home, you're already planted on his couch, your clothes discarded somewhere in his bathroom and a towel wrapped around you, fresh out of the shower.

there's no reason at all to use the spare key he'd given you to walk over to his house and shower there. no reason except for the face he makes when he sees you, which is worth every ounce of strength it takes you to put on an innocent expression.

maybe he hasn't had the chance to actually touch you in a few days. maybe he's been coming home later than your parents and the closest things to sex he'd gotten are dirty chats and a sneaky kiss in the hallway.

so he's on his knees within seconds and has his mouth on you before you've said much more than hello, his hands tugging away your towel and palming at your skin.

you're close quickly, almost embarrassingly quickly, and you're just about to reach that high when your father's voice rings out from the back door.

the adrenaline rush would be unbeatable, let's be honest. horror movies pale in comparison.

jake leaps to his feet within nanoseconds and stands just in time as your father steps in, but you're still busy throwing the towel back over your body.

jake's voice is coarse and shaky as he greets your dad, who frowns at the sight of a woman on the couch before you finally secure your towel with trembling hands and turn around to him.

he'd be perplex, of course, because it's an incredibly strange situation to walk in on - but, thank god, you manage to swallow hard and then come up with some kind of story about the shower water in your bathroom having been ice-cold and not having warmed up even after five minutes of standing there and freezing up, so you'd just come over here to ask jake to take a look at it. literal five seconds ago.

you really don't fucking know how your father actually believes that, especially because you can't possibly have sounded sure of yourself in even the slightest. but thanks to whatever higher power out there, he does, and even lets jake take a look at the utility room. magically, jake fixes the problem before your father can even walk up the stairs and assess it.

you take two showers that day. and don't get to come once.

#dbf!jake seresin #x reader #dbf!jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #top gun #top gun x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

thinking about pampering dbf!jake like- forty-seven year old jake seresin, who's always kept in shape and everything but whose skin care routine consists of throwing water at his face every night and putting on lotion once a week, sitting in your bed with a movie or a podcast on, you in his lap applying a face mask to his skin 😍🥰

ahdjhddj this is so incredibly sweet omg :') feel free to keep the thoughts coming <33

Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven | top gun masterlist

Jake turns to you with raised eyebrows. You've been staring at him for the past five minutes, intensely enough to burn holes into him even as he'd focused on his phone - some work email important enough to try and ignore your staring until he'd sent it.

"Yes?", he asks, puts his phone to the side and you grin.

"Let me give you a facial", you plead, eyes wide and nose scrunched, your fingertips running up and down his arm. "Please."

Jake almost chokes on his own spit.

"What?"

Your mouth falls open in shock.

"No! Oh my god, Jake! No, as in face masks and lotions!"

It takes your best doe eyes and a few delicate kisses against his jaw to get him to agree, but nonetheless, fifteen minutes later you're straddling his lap and gently exfoliating his skin.

You've pushed your headband into his hair and built a tower of skin care products on the mattress next to him. He's sure they'll topple down any moment now, though you don't seem concerned. Really, you aren't concerned, because you're fully focused on brushing soaked cotton pads down his face and marvelling at his features.

Honestly, you hadn't thought it'd be this easy to get him to agree. And you wouldn't have been surprised if he'd turned up the volume of the tv or got out his phone again. But Jake just watches you - his palms running up and down your thighs, a small smile playing on his lips.

He hadn't expected to enjoy this as much as he does. Not because of the products you're applying, more because you're planted on his lap and your fingers are working circles into his skin. You're all concentrated, lips parted and eyes fixed on him, and he can't help but imagine letting you do this to him every night.

Which is impossible, of course, because in three to fours hours, your parents will be back and he doesn't know when's the next time he can even spend an evening with you.

But still - he'd happily let you do it as often as you wanted to.

He likes your fingers on him. You like having your fingers on him. He likes you on his lap. You like sitting there. He likes looking at you. You like looking at him.

So maybe, just maybe, you take a lot longer than necessary to finish. Because you enjoy this way too much to stop. And because you know you won't get to do it again any time soon.

#jake seresin x reader #top gun #x reader #jake hangman seresin #dbf!jake seresin

[sunlightmurdock]

the road less traveled | j.s

a space for all of our thoughts and musings about apocalyptic!dbf jake

warnings: zombie au, smut, large age gap - unspecified but around 20 years, swearing, graphic violence, death, all the things you would expect from an apocalypse au. 18+, minors dni.

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Vol 1. Pre-Apocalypse

Vol 2. The Cabin

how it began the first kiss

Vol 3. The First Survivor Camp

first time you’re intimate having to be quiet people discovering their relationship

misc.

pregnancy and the apocalypse sleeping arrangement

#apocalypse dbf!jake #this is purely bc I don’t want these ideas to get lost and not a series #dbf!jake #dads best friend jake #jake Seresin #jake hangman Seresin #jake Seresin au #jake Seresin x reader #jake Seresin x you #jake Seresin smut

[sunlightmurdock]

You just put apocalypse dbf!jake in my head and now I won’t be able to think of anything else for foreseeable future.

It’s not a want but a need

okokokok so!! in a situation where dbf!jake is still exactly that, he’s just your dad’s best friend when this shit all starts. He’s the first person you run to when the news starts advising everyone to go home and stay there, since your parents are away.

Jake knows better. He always knows what to do. You made the right choice in going to him. He’s calm and collected, telling you to pack light and don’t open your front door until he comes to get you. Even when you’re panicking about being able to ever find your parents again, Jake is taking your face in his hands and drawing you in close, swearing to you that he’ll get you back to them if you just trust him.

And so you do. He puts you in his truck and loads the bed with a few light supplies. You make it out of the city early on the first afternoon, and drive out to your dad’s little cabin in the mountains — it’s safer to hole up out here than in the city, Jake says. The communications don’t go down right away. They go down at 3am, while Jake is sitting awake on the couch with one hand on his gun, you sleeping in the bedroom behind him. All of the news and radio stations at once, just static.

Of course, this makes things feel all the more dire, but he can’t keep it from you. The first day is the worst. Being so far from everyone is a good thing, Jake says, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. You can see him bristle at the sound of every car on the road a couple of miles away. Sound carries up here.

The whole ‘sleeping in shifts’ thing doesn’t quite work when Jake won’t sleep, either. Not when you can’t protect yourself. He sleeps in maybe forty minute intervals, if he’s lucky. He spends almost all of the first three days awake, watching over you, watching the supplies he brought start to dissipate.

There’s a lake that’s fishable, and a stream with water that you can boil. Jake doesn’t let you out of his sight, but he does teach you how to fish.

Your first encounter with one of the infected comes after maybe a week up there, some hitchhiker who had died on the highway and wandered through the woods. Miles out of the way, neither one of you were expecting to be found quite so quickly. It happens when Jake is storing the boat and you’re walking off ahead of him, hauling your bounty back towards the cabin.

Jake hears your scream and his heart drops. He races up the makeshift path to find you on your ass, scrambling backwards as the torn up thing claws at your boots. He kills it in front of you and puts you on your feet again. You’re in shock, really. It’s the first one you’ve seen up close — you almost died — this is all so real.

Back at the cabin, Jake holds you while you cry until you fall asleep in his arms. He lies awake with the realisation that he cares for you in a far deeper way than he should. When he thought he lost you earlier… it wasn’t just because he feared losing his friend’s daughter.

In that moment, he knows he’ll do anything to get you through this, no matter what that takes.

#dbf!jake #apocalypse au #dads best friend Jake #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x y/n #Jake Seresin smut

[sunlightmurdock]

Dads best friend Jake cornering you to kiss you at midnight at your family’s New Year’s party!

eeeek because you just know that from the moment he saw you all dressed up, you would be the only thing on his entire mind. He’s fumbling conversations with your dad and their shared friends because he’s having to watch you be introduced to sons of mutual friends. He’s staring like a teenager.

It would be absolutely eating the two of you up, getting through the holiday period undetected. All he wants is to wrap an arm around you and stick like glue to your side, make everyone else in this place wonder what the two of you could possibly have in common.

He enjoys keeping it to himself. The intricacies, and inside jokes, the things that make it love instead of the little affair everyone will think it is. But fuck, he just wishes he could touch you.

By midnight, you’ve got a warm kind of buzz to your skin that’s drawing him to you like a moth to light. A magnetism that couldn’t keep him away even if he was the strongest man in the world.

As a cousin of yours points to the clock and reminds you to fill your drink, Jake’s eyes go wide with opportunity. He waits for you to go and follows discreetly.

From the second that you’re being turned around and crowded against the kitchen counter, you’re beaming — you’d been wondering if he would say anything to you. He leans forwards and kisses your mouth softly before the countdown has even started, tasting the fizz of the champagne on your tongue.

Outside, the party continues to chant their way through the countdown while you’re draping your arms around Jake’s broad shoulders and smiling at him like the lovesick fool that he turns you into.

As the clock strikes midnight, you grab his face and pull him in. He kisses you dizzingly hard, arms wrapped securely around your waist. Minutes pass before Jake pulls back and nudges at the tip of your nose with his, eyes still closed, wrapped around you, before whispering, “Happy New Years’, baby.”

#Jake Seresin #dbf!jake #jake Seresin smut #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x you #dads best friend!jake #thots night (: