Uh hi! Can I request an NSFW collage au fic of jabber x an introverted/shy fem reader with a praise kink that's like virgin and wants to ask jabber to do 'it' but is too nervous to do so?
hello! ohoho you sure can—that is an absolutely adorable and delicious idea 💖
hopefully i didn't make jabs too OOC in this one aljdasldkfjasdf since it's a college AU, i tweaked his personality to suit (so like—he's not a maniacal blade-wielding killer in this one). but i did my best to keep the general 'jabber vibe' there so hopefully it comes across that way 👀👀
also this one shot turned out WAAAY longer than i was anticipating—i was in a flow state for this one and got really into the jabber x shy!reader dynamic hehe 🤭
love me a good ol' praise kink 😩
hope you enjoyy ✧
(p.s. i was listening to this playlist while writing most of the one shot—such vibes 😩)
⚠️ CONTENT NOTICE ⚠️
This post contains NSFW content. If you are a minor, please do not read this post. If you are of age, but uncomfortable with NSFW content, please read with discretion.
College AU: Jabber x Shy!Fem!Reader
tags: [confessionsss, friends to lovers, virgin reader, praise kink, kissing, cunnilingus, fingering, penetration, Jabber calling reader 'angel' 🤭, reader's wearing a sweater and shorts]
━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━
It's okay. You can do this.
He did mention you could come to him if you ever needed anything...
You inhale slowly, then exhale shakily, trying to quell your shaking hands.
You've been standing before his door for... three minutes? 20 minutes? You can't even tell anymore.
Maybe he's not in the dorm right now... Yeah, maybe he's still out, so there's no point in even knocking, then... right?
Your lips purse to suppress a frustrated noise.
Of course he's home. You can hear the music thrumming through his door—the deep bass and chill melody intertwining. So smooth.
You'd been a bundle of nerves moving into your dorm at the start of the year.
Would you be okay living so far from home? None of your friends had chosen the same college as you—how would you make any new ones when everyone seems to have found their cliques already?
You'd spotted him at the other end of the hall—leaning against the wall like he'd already decided the dorm belonged to him, backpack slung loose over one shoulder, laughter spilling out of him easily as a small crowd gathered around. Someone handed him a drink, someone else clapped him on the back. He grinned like he'd known them all for years already.
It had taken him less than an hour to do what you'd been terrified of for weeks.
You'd locked eyes for just a second.
His gaze had flicked to you—curious, lingering a moment longer than polite, like he was filing you away as something interesting.
Panic had instantly shot to your chest.
You'd ducked into your room before he could even think about saying anything, heart hammering like you'd narrowly escaped something dangerous.
You'd spent most of that first night curled on your bed, scrolling aimlessly on your phone while laughter and music filtered through the walls.
The whole floor had turned into a first-night-away-from-home chaos party. Doors open, people spilling in and out, voices overlapping...
Life happening everywhere but where you were.
You told yourself you were fine with that.
And you almost believed it.
A loud knock had then sounded at your door before it swung open, unprompted.
"Heyy uh—anyone in here?" someone slurred, warm and loose.
Jabber, cheeks flushed, eyes a little glassy but still sharp.
You remember freezing, staring at the doorway like he might bite you. He'd blinked when he saw you, then smiled—easy, unforced.
"Oh. Hey. You're th' quiet one," he'd said, like an observation rather than a judgement, "We're all hangin' out down the hall. Thought I'd check if y'wanted in!"
Your brain had short-circuited.
You'd stammered something incoherent. You weren't sure what. An excuse. An apology. Maybe both.
All you know is that you'd shut the door on him out of panic, then spent the next hour with your hands shaking, mortified.
The next morning, there'd been another knock.
When you'd opened it, Jabber looked... wrecked. Eyes barely squinting open, coffee in hand, posture apologetic in a way that felt almost rehearsed. A couple of other students pushed him further into the frame of your doorway, ignoring his 'Okay, okay, damn!'s and 'I'm doin' it I'm doin' it!'s.
"Okay," he'd finally said to you, wincing, "Soo apparently I owe you an apology. I'm told I was 'a lot' last night."
You'd stared at him a moment before laughing just a little, surprised.
Somehow, against all odds, he'd kept stopping by after that.
Sometimes alone, sometimes peeling away from his louder friends to sit with you in the common area, lowering his voice without even thinking about it. He never pushed, never asked why you were the way you were.
And that was enough for him.
He'd tease you whenever you overthought things, would give advice when you asked for it. He'd shrug and say, "Hey, you can come to me if you ever need anything," like it was the most natural thing in the world.
You stare at his door again.
The music continues to muffle through the door, steady and bass-heavy.
Your fingers twitch at your sides.
You swallow, lift your hand...
"S'open," Jabber's voice yells back casually.
You tentatively turn the handle and open the door.
His room's the same as it always is this time of night. Purple LEDs casting their glow over everything, a random pile of clothes gathered in one spot of the floor, bed unmade, the faint hint of weed hanging in the air.
He's standing by his wardrobe, halfway through pulling a shirt over his head as you close the door behind you. Without really thinking, your eyes catch the contour of his abs bathed under the purple light—just a glimpse before his head pops through the collar and the black fabric falls over his stomach.
His eyes catch you at the doorway.
"Yo, Y/nnn," he grins, voice stretching your name like he's genuinely pleased to see you, "S'up?"
"Hi," you say softly, fingers curling into the sleeves of your jumper, "Sorry, I—was I interrupting anything?"
"Nah." He shrugs easily, tossing the discarded shirt onto the pile that's already claimed a corner of the floor, "Was just changin'. C'mon in."
You step further into the room.
The bass from his speakers hums low and comfortable in the background.
Jabber leans back against the wardrobe, arms folding loosely over his chest as he looks you over. Nothing intense about it, just that familiar, attentive ease that always makes your heart trip over itself.
"You good?" he asks, "You look... tense."
"I'm fine," you say quickly, then wince at yourself, "I mean—yeah. J-just tired, I guess."
He hums, unconvinced but not pressing, "Rough day?"
"Something like that." You glance around, buying time, then your eyes catch his hands. Your brows knit before you can stop them. "Jabber... your knuckles..."
He looks down, following your gaze. His skin's split in a few places, bruised and reddening. Nothing severe, but fresh enough to sting. He flexes his fingers once, like he's only just noticed.
"What happened?" you ask, concern slipping into your voice despite yourself.
He grins again, crooked this time, "Got into a scrap."
Your eyes widen, "A—again??"
"Hey," he laughs, pushing off the wardrobe, "Not, like, a bad one. Just a guy at a party who thought he could swing first. I let him try."
You stare at him, "...You enjoy this."
He shrugs, unapologetic, "Keeps things interestin'."
"That's not a reason," you mutter, though there's no real bite to it.
"Sure it is," he says lightly, "You jus' worry too much."
You press your lips together, resisting the urge to lecture him—something you've learned never really works anyway. Instead, you glance vaguely toward his hand, "Does it... hurt?"
"A little." He tilts his head, studying your expression, "Why? You wanna play nurse?"
Your face warms instantly, "I- no, I just- never mind."
He chuckles under his breath but doesn't tease you further. Instead, he moves to sit on the edge of his bed, stretching his legs out comfortably. "So," he says, glancing up at you, tone shifting to something still casual, but slightly more focused, "You didn't come over just to scold me about my 'poor life choices', right?"
"I- um..." You hover where you're standing for a second, then step to perch carefully on the desk chair across from him, "No. I mean—not really."
"Okay..." he says easily, "Then what's up?"
Your throat feels dry. You open your mouth, then close it again. Jabber waits. Doesn't interrupt, doesn't rush you. Just watches, patient in a way that somehow makes it worse.
"I just-" you start, then trail off, squeezing your fingers together, "You said... that I could come to you. If I ever needed... anything."
His expression softens just a fraction, "Yeah," he says, "I did."
You nod, staring at your hands like they're the most fascinating things on earth. Your pulse is loud in your ears.
"I just... needed to talk," you manage, "About something."
"Alright," he replies, "I'm listenin'."
You draw in a shaky breath.
Now you just have to actually say it.
But how do you even begin? How do you bring something like this up without sounding like a total creep??
"So..." you begin, almost too quiet to hear over the music, "You've... done 'it' before, right...?"
You swallow, "Um. Y'know. It."
He squints slightly, genuinely trying, "Define 'it'."
Your face heats up instantly, "I- I mean- like—With someone."
"Romantically how?" he asks, head tilting.
Your fingers fidget even more now, twisting together awkwardly, "Like... um... intimacy."
"Oh," he nods slowly, "...Like gone on a date?"
"No—!" you squeak, then clamp your mouth shut, mortified, "I mean- no, not dates."
Jabber raises a brow, amused now, "Okay. Not dates."
You squeeze your eyes shut for half a second, then try again, "I mean... physical stuff."
Your soul nearly leaves your body.
"N-no! Well—yes, but... more than that." Your voice drops to a whisper, "Like... what people usually do when they're... together..."
He watches you carefully, waiting for the penny to drop.
"So," he says slowly, "you're askin' if I've... been in a relationship?"
You let out a tiny, frustrated noise, "No, I mean, kind of, but also not really-"
He laughs under his breath, "You're losin' me, Angel."
You press your lips together, then mumble, "The... bedroom kind of stuff..."
"...Bedroom stuff," he repeats.
You groan quietly, dropping your face into your hands, "Oh my god."
He studies you for a moment longer, cogs turning. Then, finally—something clicks.
"OH," he suddenly exclaims, "you mean sex."
Your heart slams against your ribs, entire body going hot.
He leans back slightly on his hands, processing.
"Yeah," he says after a beat, "I have."
You nod, throat tight, eyes glued to the floor.
"...Right, so... You've done that..."
"...Uhuh," he raises a brow again, as if he's trying to puzzle together where exactly this is going.
"...And I was wondering if..."
You feel your throat tighten, like it's actively trying to stop you from asking the favour out loud.
"I was wondering if you'd... If you'd..."
You start to feel dizzy with how hard your blood's pumping. Your fingers curl tightly, stomach beginning to cramp from all the nerves.
"N-nevermind I've changed my mind it's stupid," you suddenly blurt out, springing up from the chair before immediately plopping back down as your legs turn to jelly.
"Don't get mad at me if I'm wrong..." Jabber begins quietly.
"...but... are you asking me to have sex with you?"
You stare at your fingers, watching earnestly at how they fiddle with the hem of your sweater.
"...I feel like I'm falling behind..." you eventually whisper, not looking up, "Everyone else seems so experienced already... They're all so casual about doing 'it'... and I'm... just not."
You swallow, heart hammering almost painfully within your ribs. Jabber stays silent, so you continue.
"A-and I don't want my first time to be awkward... or rushed... or with someone who expects... confidence, or—I don't know—just—experience I don't have..."
You take a shaky breath, voice coming out even quieter now, "I... I just don't want my first time to be bad... or scary. Or... something I regret."
There's still no reply, so your eyes courageously chance a glance, only to see he's staring at you with an expression you can't read.
"I-it's just that I trust you, y'know?" you stammer, head shooting back down as you wave your arms, trying to save whatever situation you've put yourself in, "You're safe, and honest, and—I knew you wouldn't judge me for this, or just disappear afterward... so..."
At this point you want to just crawl into a hole and never come out.
You purse your lips, still adamantly staring at your fingers as they press and stretch and tug at the same spot of your sweater's hem.
Then you hear him take a breath.
Your eyes widen and your head lifts.
Jabber's still leaning back on his hands, now staring half-lidded at your stunned frame. "Nah," he repeats simply, "Won't do it."
"W-why...?" you manage to whisper out, voice trembling. This is so embarrassing. No—humiliating. But then again, how did you think this would go? Did you really think he'd just say yes to sleeping with you just because you're good friends? Just because he seems like a chill and open guy? You-
"'Cause you're not tellin' me the truth."
"Or at least—not the whole truth."
"...W-what do you mean..."
"I mean," Jabber breathes through a sigh, shifting slightly where he sits, one knee drawing up as he props an arm over it. "I'm pretty good at readin' people," he says, "Hang around enough folks who lie through their teeth and y'start noticin' the gaps."
"And you?" He lets out a soft huff, almost amused, "You're... kinda an open book. Like—painfully so."
"Everything you jus' said..." he continues, voice low but steady, "I know it wasn't bullshit. I believe you." He tilts his head slightly, eyes studying you while you avert his gaze, "But that's not all of it. Is it."
"You're leavin' somethin' out," he says—not accusing, but certain, "And, how do I put this..."
"...I don't wanna be the guy you do this with if you can't say the whole thing out loud."
"I'm not gonna sleep with you for a half-truth," Jabber adds, "Not like this."
Silence settles between you. Heavy, though not sharp.
"It's your first time," he eventually continues, quieter now, "That's not somethin' I'm takin' lightly. Not somethin' I'm touchin' unless I know exactly what you're askin' me."
He shifts forward just a little, forearms resting on his knees, "So either you tell me what you're not sayin'..."
"...or we don't do this."
"...I," you start, then press your lips together again, temples pulsing.
You have to tell him. Or else he won't help you. But how will he react? What if he gets weirded out? What if he never talks to you again??
You take a long, steadying breath, gathering all the courage you can muster. You've been shy your whole life. You've missed out on so many opportunities. You've had so many regrets. All because you were just too shy—too afraid to just... go for it.
Even if you live the whole rest of your life being scared and reserved, the one thing you actually build the courage to go for...
...You want it to be this.
Your voice comes out whisper-soft, almost inaudible. So inaudible you're almost hopeful worried he didn't hear you at all.
But when your eyes finally fall onto him, he's a fraction tenser than he was before. Sitting stock still.
He blinks once. Swallows. His jaw shifts like he's restraining something.
"...Like me like what?" he asks, voice almost robotic with how strained his tone is.
"Like... like like you. As in... more than a friend?" you mumble, terrified of what his reaction is entailing exactly.
For once, his eyes avert yours, something close to worry or uncertainty touching his brow. "Since when?" he asks quietly.
"I-I don't know," you stammer, "maybe... since four months ago...?"
His eyes widen almost imperceptibly at your answer. He takes a few moments.
Then a crooked, almost disbelieving smile tugs at his mouth.
You only catch a glimpse before his hand comes up to cover it as he turns his head and looks away. He exhales through a quiet laugh, almost like he's relieved.
Your heart hammers at the sight.
"Is this a good reaction, or a 'you should leave now' reaction?" you breathe out, brows turning up anxiously.
Jabber lets out another soft laugh, finally turning back to face you. "Thought I was readin' you right," he smirks slightly. "You, on the other hand," he lightly kicks your leg with his foot, "are terrible at readin' reactions."
You feel your cheeks heat up again. "That's not answering my question," you mumble embarrassedly.
"It's a good reaction," he says reassuringly. You feel your muscles slowly relax in relief, though your stomach's still fluttering like crazy.
For a moment, neither of you says anything.
The quiet stretches—comfortable, but charged. Your heart keeps thudding like it's trying to catch up with your thoughts.
"...So," you say softly, before you can talk yourself out of it, "you... you like me too?"
The question clearly catches him off guard. His brows lift, just a fraction, like he hadn't realised you were still unsure about that part.
"...Yeah," he answers after a moment, slower now, "I do."
"You- really?" you press, disbelief creeping in despite yourself, "I mean... how? I'm not exactly..." You gesture vaguely at yourself, cheeks warming again, "I'm awkward. And quiet. And I don't—I don't do half the stuff you do."
He exhales through his nose, almost a huff, and leans back a little more, eyes flicking away from yours.
"God, you're really makin' me spell it out, huh?" he mutters.
You immediately shrink, "S-sorry-"
"No, no," he cuts in gentler, waving it off, "Just—gimme a sec."
He scratches the back of his neck, jaw shifting like he's choosing his words carefully. When he looks back at you, his expression's softer. Less cocky, more real.
"...You're easy to be around," he says simply, "You don't try to be anything you're not. You listen. You're kind. You... actually give a shit about stuff."
"And," he adds, a little more quietly, "you always look at me so... honestly."
For a second, he looks almost embarrassed by the admission. Then he clears his throat, the familiar grin tugging back at his mouth like a defence mechanism.
"So yeah," he finishes, shrugging lightly, "Guess I'm into you. Sue me."
Your lips part, heart doing somersaults at the casual way he says it—like it's obvious.
Jabber suddenly leans back on his hands again, letting out a big sigh. "Damn, Angel," he grins, "this is kinda wild."
"...What is?" you ask, still a little on edge.
"You turn me down every time I offer you a hit—" he clicks his tongue in mock offence, "—multiple times, by the way. Even offered to babysit your first trip like a gentleman."
Your face immediately burns, "I'm just not interested in weed!"
"Uh-huh," he nods sagely, "But you walk into my room at midnight and ask me to take your virginity."
You choke, "I didn't- I mean-"
He laughs, loud and easy now, waving a hand, "I'm jus' messin' with ya. Relax."
You groan, hiding your face in your hands, "You're the worst..."
"Yeah," he agrees cheerfully, then sobers just a notch. The grin softens, "But I get it."
You peek at him through your fingers.
"I do," he repeats, quieter, "You trust me. That part... matters."
The room settles again. The joking edge fades, replaced by something more deliberate.
"So," he says, shifting his weight, eyes back on you, "about what you asked me."
Your heart jumps straight back into your throat.
"I'm not gonna say yes just 'cause you're scared of bein' left behind," he continues evenly. "And I'm not gonna say no just to play hard-to-get either."
You nod faintly, hanging on his every word.
"If we do this," he says, voice dropping a little, "...it's 'cause you want me. Not the idea of gettin' it over with. 'Cause... I want you too."
His foot nudges you again, gentler than before.
"And we go at your pace," he adds, "No pressure. No expectations."
He tilts his head, searching your face, "That sound okay to you?"
You blink a few times, calming your heart so you can respond. He waits patiently. And you finally nod.
"Yeah. That sounds okay."
A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Good."
You pause awkwardly, "So... what exactly do we do now...?"
Jabber raises a brow, amused, but then softens slightly. "You could start by gettin' over here," he opens his arms up as invitation.
Slowly, you stand from the chair, trying to ignore how jelly-like your legs feel as you take one small step at a time toward him. You hover a step away from him, hands fidgeting uselessly at your sides like you've forgotten what they're for.
Jabber watches you with open amusement, arms still out, "C'mon," he murmurs, "I ain't got teeth."
You let out a tiny, breathy laugh despite yourself and take the last step forward.
The moment you're close enough, he adjusts—one arm sliding loosely around your waist, the other resting warm and steady at your lower back. Not pulling, just there. Grounding.
"See? nothin' to be afraid of," he says, standing from the bed while keeping his arms around you. You nod.
You're very aware of how tall he is now. How easily you fit against him.
"Still okay?" he asks quietly, eyes dipping to your face. You nod again, faster this time, "Mhm."
"Good." His thumb rubs a small, slow circle against your back, "You're doin' great, Angel."
Your heart does a full backflip at the praise, heat rushing straight to your cheeks. You swallow, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt without even meaning to.
A soft huff of a laugh escapes him. "Relax," he murmurs, "You're allowed to touch me, y'know."
"S-sorry," you blurt out, immediately loosening your grip.
"Hey," he says gently, tipping his head down just enough to catch your eyes, "Don't apologise for bein' nervous. S'kinda cute."
That just makes you even more flustered.
He lets the moment sit, then slowly leans in—not closing the distance all the way, though. Just enough that you can feel his breath, warm and steady, brushing your lips.
"This okay?" he asks, barely above a whisper.
Your voice comes out tiny, "Yeah."
He waits a beat longer, giving you time to pull away if you want.
He presses a soft, unhurried kiss to your lips.
It's nothing like what you'd built up in your head. No urgency, no pressure. Just warm, gentle, and...
You hesitate for half a second before kissing him back, a little clumsy, but earnest. His hand tightens at your waist in approval, thumb stroking reassuringly.
"Mm," he hums against your mouth, smiling into the kiss, "See? You're doin' jus' fine."
He tilts his head for a better angle and your heart flutters higher. Your hands have found a comfortable spot against his chest, lightly clutching the fabric of his shirt for support as you melt under his lips.
You finally part and you feel like you might faint if you're not careful.
Jabber moves to press a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then his lips move to your neck.
He grazes it with his lips first. You shiver at the sensation, then feel his lips smile against your skin at your reaction.
Light kisses trail circles along your neck, until you feel his tongue glide briefly against your skin.
You let out a small startled noise, shoulders tensing slightly.
He lets out a small, soft laugh, "Not a fan?"
"I never said that..." you pout quietly, cheeks heating up more than you thought possible.
Jabber hums curiously, then brings his tongue back to your skin, slower this time. It tickles, but... in a nice way. In a way that gives you goosebumps, and makes your nerves tingle.
A small mewl escapes your throat.
Your hands tighten reflexively in his shirt, and your face burns as you realise what just slipped out of you.
"I-" you choke, pulling back just enough to hide your face against his chest, mortified, "S-sorry- I didn't- I don't usually- I mean-"
Your words tangle over each other, panic bubbling up fast, "I didn't mean to make that noise, I swear-"
Then he laughs. Quiet, warm, only a little teasing, "Hey, easy."
One of his hands comes up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently into your hair to keep you close instead of letting you spiral.
"This is so embarrassing," you mumble.
He tilts his head, studying your hiding flushed face like it's the most fascinating thing he's seen all day. "Embarrassin'?" he repeats, brows lifting slightly, "Nah."
Your stomach flips when his thumb brushes your cheek.
"Nothin' embarrassing about bein' honest," he says simply, "Besides... Didn't sound bad to me."
Your lips part, heat pooling low in your stomach at the way he says it—a compliment you weren't prepared for.
"It's just—I've never done this before," you whisper, "I don't really... know what I'm doing."
"That's okay," he shrugs, "You don't gotta know. I got you."
He gives you a second to just breathe.
"'N for the record," he adds quietly, lips ghosting back to your neck, "you sound really cute when you forget to be shy."
You're in the middle of letting out a confused hum when the feeling of his lips against your neck suddenly draws out another soft moan from you.
You can feel him smirking against your neck again, and you half-glare at him. "You did that on purpose, didn't you..."
He pulls back just enough for you to see the grin he's absolutely not trying to hide. "Me?" he asks innocently, "Nah. You just got a really reactive neck, Angel."
Your glare deepens, "You're awful."
He chuckles low and warm, clearly pleased, "Yet you're still standin' right here. I wonder why that is..."
Before you can think of a comeback, his hands settle gently at your waist. "C'mon," he murmurs, nodding his head toward the bed, "You're gonna fall over if I keep kissin' you like that, and I don't feel like explainin' bruises tomorrow."
Your heart skips, "We're... just gonna—?"
"Just get comfy," he reassures easily, "Trust."
You hesitate for half a second, then let him guide you. He doesn't rush you—keeps his pace slow, matching yours—until the backs of your knees touch the mattress.
You sit first, then lie back awkwardly, suddenly very aware of your hands and where they should go.
Jabber follows, propping himself on one elbow over you. "Relax," he says gently, "You're doin' great."
His free hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together before he leans in again. When his lips meet yours once more, you feel your body relax again.
You're not sure if it's the fuzziness of your brain, or the deep comfort you're feeling right now, but something in you grows a little braver as you lift your free hand to cup his cheek. He breathes contentedly at the action, squeezing your interlocked hand slightly.
The hand resting on your waist slides along your torso, grazing soothing lines, occasionally moving over your stomach. Eventually, it trails up to cup your breast through your shirt. You moan slightly into the kiss, chest subconsciously arching up into his large hand.
His lips move back to your neck as his hand trails down again, slipping under your shirt. The skin-on-skin contact is addictive—you find yourself becoming greedy. Wanting more.
As if reading your mind, Jabber's hand unlinks from your fingers and moves to lift the hem of your shirt.
"This okay?" he asks quietly, gazing carefully at you as his hands keep your sweater pulled just above your bellybutton. You nod, lifting your back off the mattress to help get the top off. He pulls it over your head, soon discarding it somewhere on the floor.
You suddenly process that you're sitting on his bed with a bare chest, and find your arms coming up to cover your breasts.
Jabber tilts his head, brows raising with affectionate teasing, "You always overthink things like that. Relax—you didn't come this far just to panic, did you?"
"S'embarrassing..." you mumble.
"Fair enough," he says, fingers hooking under the hem of his own shirt, "Here, I'll make it even."
He pulls it up over his head and tosses it over his shoulder before turning back to you.
Why does he have to be so hot? His body is so toned. It almost seems unfair. He really makes the term 'washboard abs' completely literal.
Jabber's eyes follow your gaze. He grins, "Like what you see?" "M-maybe," you respond, embarrassed that he caught you staring so openly. "Well the feelin's mutual," he murmurs, coming to sit next to you on the edge of the bed.
He takes your chin between his fingers and tilts it his way so his lips can find yours again. Your hands instinctively come to settle against his bare chest. The body heat radiating between you makes you feel closer somehow—like that shared warmth is melting together, connecting you for every second you sit so close.
Jabber plants a kiss to your jaw before murmuring softly, "If we're gonna do this, we'll need to stretch you out first." Your cheeks burn up, "S-stretch me out?" The phrase sounds so lewd...
"Trust me," he says, "It'll make things go easier." He peppers a few soft kisses along the side of your face, as if to quietly reinforce the comfort behind his words.
Your fingers curl slightly against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath your palm. He hasn't rushed you once. Hasn't pushed, hasn't laughed at you, hasn't made you feel small. Every step so far has been yours to take—or not.
Your heart's still racing, but it isn't panic or anxiety or nerves anymore. It's anticipation. It's warmth. It's the quiet certainty that if you asked him to stop, he would.
You take a breath, steadying yourself, then nod once.
"...Okay," you say softly.
"Yeah?" he asks quietly, just to be sure.
You nod again, a little firmer this time, "Yeah."
A small smile curves at his mouth as his thumb brushes your jaw. "Alright," he murmurs.
His lips find yours again, and his hand slides from your jaw to the back of your head. You return the kiss with a little more confidence now, one hand propping you up while the other rests on his shoulder.
His hand moves from the back of your head, trailing down your spine, all the way to your lower back, then along the outside of your thigh. The warm touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. You relish it as it grazes up and down, then eventually shifts to the inside of your thigh.
A soft hum leaves your lips as his fingers draw lines along the more sensitive skin. They inch higher and higher, until finally—you feel them press against your clothed heat.
Your breath hitches suddenly at the sensation, pleasured noises escaping your throat as he deepens the kiss, fingers dragging rhythmically against your pussy.
The air feels cool against your mouth as it parts from his—you can almost see the steam puffing from it as you catch your breath. Before you know it, his head's tilting to kiss your jaw, then your shoulder, then your chest...
You let out a breathy gasp as he shifts, soon kneeling on the ground before you while trailing the kisses down the side of your torso, hands resting on either side of your hips. His fingers curl around the hem of your shorts and his eyes glance meaningfully up at you. You nod, no longer so nervous or afraid that you overthink things. You trust him completely.
You lift your hips slightly as he pulls the shorts down along with your panties, now completely bare before him. He plants more kisses along your thigh, gently pulling your legs apart just enough so he can continue the trail of kisses.
The heat at your core pulses every time his lips inch further up your legs. He sucks at the soft skin of your inner thigh. The anticipation's almost unbearable—but then his tongue flicks along your slit.
A loud and surprised whimper escapes your throat and your thighs instinctively try to squeeze together, trapping Jabber's head between them in the process.
Your apology is cut off by another moan as his hands hook around your thighs, keeping them in their exact place as his face buries deeper against your aching cunt. You fall back, torso arching at the pleasure.
His tongue is so warm and wet—the way it swirls around your clit and plunges into your entrance has your brows creasing and your eyes losing focus.
When his face finally pulls away, your core aches in protest. Your head's so warm and fuzzy you can barely focus on anything, gasps coming out short and shallow as you catch your breath. Only when you feel one of his fingers graze against your entrance do your eyes glance down.
Soon enough it's entering you, slow and careful while he intently watches you.
"Jus' relax," he murmurs, "That's my girl..."
But something about those words shoots a spike of pleasure through you, making your walls instinctively squeeze even more.
A small and curious hum sounds from Jabber's throat.
Without taking out his finger, he comes to sit next to your body on the bed, his free hand propping him up as he hovers over you. His dreads dangle like willow branches above you, a cheeky grin spreading across his lips, "Knew I wasn't imaginin' it."
"H-huh?" you breathe out, barely locking onto his face as his finger reaches further inside you than you've ever had anything reach. It curls up suddenly, pressing into a particularly delicious spot—you let out a long and intense moan, mouth gaping in pleasured surprise before your hand can come up to stifle it.
"You're doing so well, Angel," Jabber coos, eyes creasing in endearment.
"Mm—!" Electricity runs through your nerves at the comment. At the tone of voice. At his expression. Your lips press together as you look up desperately at him.
"Thought that was the case," he grins knowingly."
A second finger slips easily into you, thrusting alongside the first one as your walls stretch around them.
"Look at you," Jabber continues with the same tone as before, "Takin' my fingers so well—you're doin' so good!"
Your core throbs harder. You can feel something building deep in your stomach, a sensation growing through all your most sensitive nerves as he continues to finger you in just the right spot and whisper the sweetest praises into your ear.
"J-Jab-" your trembling voice attempts to form your thoughts, but all you can manage is broken segments of sentences, like a radio that's struggling to connect to a station, "I—m'gonna- I think I-"
Before you can finish, he withdraws both fingers, making your walls clench around their absence. The previously growing sensation now fades back down. "W-why..." you whine in soft frustration.
"What, you don't even want the main course anymore?" Jabber teases, but then his voice softens slightly, "You're prepped enough now. If you're ready to move to the next thing, then we can."
You tilt your head up needily. He indulges you, leaning down to kiss your lips softly.
When your lips part, your hand comes up to touch his cheek. You swallow, then avert your eyes shyly, "Let's... move to the next thing..."
Jabber's eyes relax tenderly for a moment before he stands from the mattress, grabbing you and gently dragging your body to lie more comfortably along the length of his bed.
"Alright," he says lightly as he shifts, hands still warm at your sides, "I'm just gonna prep real quick. Won't take a sec."
You blink up at him, a little hazy from the kiss, "Prep...?" you echo, curiosity poking through, "For... what?"
He pauses, then snorts softly, like he's amused at himself. "You're killin' me, Angel," he says fondly, "Uh—you on birth control?"
"Oh-" you start, then stop. Your cheeks flare hot, "N-no. I'm not."
"Yeah," he nods easily, already turning toward his bedside drawer, "Means I'm grabbin' a condom."
"...Oh," you say again, quieter this time.
Of course. Obviously. Duh.
Embarrassment washes over you and you purse your lips, "Right. That makes sense. Sorry... I didn't even think about that..."
Jabber glances back at you, one brow lifting, expression more amused than anything else. "Hey," he says gently, "don't apologise. You're allowed to not have all the steps memorised yet."
That earns a small, sheepish huff of laughter from you, "I feel like I should've known that..."
He chuckles, turning back to you now that everything's prepped and ready. "You'll know next time," he says, softening as his eyes settle on you, "Don't worry, Angel. You're good."
Somehow, that simple reassurance settles the last of the frantic buzzing in your chest.
Jabber's eyes glance over your frame attentively, "You cold?"
"Huh?" you follow his gaze and notice that you're trembling slightly. "Oh, uh... maybe a little," you mumble shyly.
At your confirmation, he reaches over to the end of the bed and grabs a blanket, slinging it loosely around his shoulders like a cape. The motion makes you blink, confused—until he shifts closer.
"I'll keep you warm," he says casually, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
He moves to climb over you, bracing his weight carefully so he doesn't crowd you, the blanket falling forward with him. Before it settles over the two of you, you notice his wrapped cock, erect and... large.
"I-is that gonna fit?" you blurt before you can think.
He pauses mid-movement, then one corner of his mouth lifts. Not smug, just fond. "It'll fit," he murmurs, "I'll take care of you, don't worry." He then lowers himself the rest of the way, the blanket finally settling over both of you.
Warmth wraps around you almost immediately—his body heat, the blanket, the closeness—all of it making your nerves transform into anticipation.
"If anything feels like too much, you tell me. Yeah?" he whispers. You nod, swallowing, "Yeah."
His lips press against yours, now familiar and easy. Your hands automatically rest on his toned shoulders while his hands gently lift your legs, preparing you for missionary.
He parts the kiss to nip and suck at your neck.
While breathy pants and moans leave your lips, you feel something new graze at your entrance. You know what it is. And with the blanket blocking your view, you're more aware and sensitive to everything you're feeling down there. The way the tip gently slides against your clit a few times, the way it parts your folds as it lines up with your entrance, then—the way your walls begin to stretch as it starts to sink into you.
A small whine escapes you as your hands move to wrap around his neck, searching for any comfort you can.
He continues pushing into you, slowly and patiently, still pressing soft kisses along your neck.
Your core tinges with a slight discomfort as he reaches halfway. Your fingers clench tightly, more whimpers leaving your throat. Jabber presses a kiss to your cheek, then connects to your lips again.
The action helps to ground you, your mind focusing on the gentle affection rather than the way your walls are stretching with every inch he pushes into you.
After a few more moments, you finally feel his hips come into contact with your thighs.
His lips pull away from yours as he lets out a dazed groan, head dipping for a second, forehead resting on your collarbone.
"Feels good..." he mumbles, collecting himself.
Your heart skips a beat, walls automatically clenching.
His shoulders jolt slightly and you feel his member twitch in response.
"What do you think you're doin' to me, Angel?" he breathes out with a laugh, lifting his head to gaze down at you teasingly, "Gonna drive me crazy at this point."
"S-sorry," you mumble bashfully.
His eyes narrow fondly, "You okay if I start movin'?"
You bite your lip, then nod.
His hips pull away, and you feel his length go along with the movement. Your breath does the same, pulling out of you at the same pace. Then, once your inside begins to feel particularly lonely, he slowly pushes back in. You feel your walls stretch around him again, this time more comfortably.
"Does it feel okay?" he asks breathily. You nod, brows arching with growing pleasure, "Mhm..."
A small breathy laugh escapes his lips, "Good. You're doin' great, Angel. Takin' all of me so well..."
His words come out in a way you've never heard before. They're breathier, slower—hazy and unguarded, like he's not entirely in control of it anymore. Like pleasure's starting to slip past his usual ease.
Eventually, once your walls begin to take his length more easily, his movements speed up a little. The pace is still smooth and slow, but now more rhythmic as his lips find yours again.
Your muffled whines fill his room as his cock reaches deep inside you, grazing against the perfect spots as it pulls out and plunges back in over and over. At this angle, his torso rubs against your clit with every shift, adding to the stimulation, pulling more pleasured sounds from your throat.
"F-feels... so good..." you manage to gasp out weakly between kisses.
"Good," Jabber smiles affectionately between breaths, "You feel so good too, Angel... Too good..." He lets out a pleasured sigh as his face comes to nestle into the crook of your neck, still thrusting into you steadily. "You're so adorable, y'know that?" he pants into your skin. His voice sounds even more vulnerable now, like he's slowly losing himself to you completely.
Your cheeks burn impossibly hotter at his words. You tilt your head to nuzzle against his head, moans floating right to his ear. "I... r-really like you..." you whimper.
He stutters mid-thrust, arms quickly wrapping around your waist and pulling you to sit up with him while he's still buried inside you. Gravity swiftly makes you sink deeper onto his cock, pulling a particularly loud moan from your throat. Your walls clench instinctively from the pleasure, making Jabber let out a surprised grunt.
"Oh, Angel," he pants, hands gripping your hips to guide you up and down his length, "you're doing so good..."
A familiar build begins to grow in your core.
"And for the record," he breathes, eyes locked on you completely, "I really like you too."
That comment brings the building sensation straight to the fore, and every time the tip of his cock kisses your cervix, your climax gets closer and closer.
His hands leave your hips to cup your face. You move your hips without needing his guidance anymore, chasing the high as your mind begins to haze over.
"C'mon, Angel—" Jabber groans, "—That's my girl. You can do it—Cum for me. You're doin'- s-so well..."
You grip his wrists and crash your lips against his, sweet release flooding through you as your walls clench tightly around him, body shivering from the pleasure. Your moans are stifled by his lips, but still loud enough to travel through his whole room as your legs lose their strength and make you sink all the way back onto his base.
The sudden move pulls an intense moan from Jabber's throat as his hands grip tighter on your face. His lips press harder against yours, cock twitching inside you, abs rippling as they tense and relax repeatedly.
Your lips part, mouths open and panting as you both idle in the afterglow.
Eventually, your spinning head catches up to you and you fall forward, slumping into his shoulder for support as your body twitches with pleasured aftershocks, finally coming down from your high.
Jabber steadies you without a word, one arm wrapping around your back as your weight sinks into him. He rubs slow circles between your shoulder blades, grounding and patient. "Easy," he murmurs near your ear, "I got you."
Your breath evens out little by little, the buzz in your limbs fading into something heavy and loose. You're still on his lap when he shifts, careful as he eases you both sideways, his cock still buried warm and deep inside you.
"C'mon," he says gently, guiding you down with him, "Let's get comfy."
The mattress dips as you settle beside each other, and he tugs the blanket back up and over you both. It smells like him—clean fabric, a bit of weed, something warm and familiar. He adjusts it around your shoulders, tucking it in like it's the most natural thing in the world.
You lie there for a while, staring at the soft purple glow on the wall, thoughts drifting back into place one by one. Eventually, Jabber pulls his hips away, slowly sliding his cock out of you. You let out a small whine, noticing how empty your insides now feel without him there. He then lies on his side facing you, propped up on an elbow, watching you with a lazy fondness that makes your chest flutter.
"You still with me, Angel?" he asks quietly.
You hum, blinking slowly, "Mmh. Just... rebooting."
A small laugh leaves him, "Figured."
His thumb brushes absentmindedly over your arm, comfortable and close. "...You okay?" he asks after a moment, more serious now. You nod, "Yeah. I'm... really okay."
He studies you like he's double-checking anyway, then relaxes, "Good. Just makin' sure."
The silence that follows isn't awkward. It's new, but also easy, like something shifted into alignment tonight. You're aware of him beside you in a way that feels reassuring instead of nerve-wracking.
After a bit, Jabber sighs and stretches his neck, "Alright. I'm gonna go clean up real quick."
You turn your head toward him, "Oh, okay."
"You wanna come too, or...?" he trails off, clearly giving you the option. You glance at the bed, at the blanket, at how boneless you feel right now, "...Can I stay here for a minute?"
"'Course you can," he says immediately.
He sits up, then pauses, looking back down at you, "Just—don't wait too long, yeah? Health 'n' safety 'n' all that. I'll come check on you in a sec."
He leans down before you can overthink it, pressing a soft, tender kiss to your forehead. It lingers affectionately.
"Rest up," he murmurs, "You did so good."
Then he's gone, the door clicking softly behind him.
You lie there alone, wrapped in his blanket, heart full and steady in a way it's never been before. The room still hums with the quiet aftermath, but instead of nerves or doubt, all you feel is warmth.
And the certainty that when he comes back, you won't be pretending that this night didn't change everything between you 💜
