JDOBSESSOR MASTERLIST
Optioned - Jarren Duran
Trade Deadline - Jarren Duran

Andulka

★
dirt enthusiast
Peter Solarz
Cosimo Galluzzi
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
noise dept.
$LAYYYTER

RMH
Today's Document
🪼

pixel skylines
AnasAbdin
taylor price

#extradirty
d e v o n
art blog(derogatory)
macklin celebrini has autism
seen from Brazil
seen from Colombia

seen from United States
seen from Colombia

seen from Colombia
seen from Brunei

seen from China

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Russia

seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany
@jdobsessor
JDOBSESSOR MASTERLIST
Optioned - Jarren Duran
Trade Deadline - Jarren Duran

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
★ 5 seconds of summer is not ok! ★
So inspired by @sotosprincess that I had to write my own story.
============================
Jarren wasn’t in a slump, but the team was struggling and he was feeling stressed. The media kept bringing up how he was the spark and asking what he could do to turn things around. He was obviously doing everything in his power to win and inspire his teammates, but it wasn’t enough. He was feeling the pressure and it was draining. His depression was becoming a distraction and it was making him miserable. It didn’t help that you were in the middle of a really busy time at work. You just hadn’t been able to see him as much.
You watched games as often as you could. It was obvious he wasn’t feeling great. His body language during the game was off. He was cursing himself at every at bat and sitting with his head down on the bench. You texted often and talked every day, but your crazy schedule made it difficult.
After a particularly hard day, Jarren was really down and he just couldn’t handle being at his apartment alone that night. He texted you as soon as he got into the clubhouse. “I really need to see you tonight.”
You were working late and didn’t see it for almost an hour. Damn. “Gimme 15 minutes. I have to finish up here and I’ll come to you.”
He answered almost immediately, “thanks babe”
You rushed through the rest of your tasks and headed out. Tried calling him while you drove, but he didn’t answer, making you worry. You hit the gas a little harder.
When you opened the door he was sitting on the sofa, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His hair was still wet, a damp towel around his hips and you could feel the heat and steam coming from the bathroom. Extra hot showers where he just stood in the spray were a ritual after a tough day.
The apartment is quiet, yet he doesn’t stir when you approach. You stand before him and he reaches out and pulls you closer, burying his face in your belly.
Your heart aches for him. You know how hard he is on himself and you try to get him to stop, but it doesn’t always work. So you do what you can. Tonight you run your fingers through his wet hair and rub his shoulders. The knots in his muscles proof of the tension he feels.
“Jarren, talk to me. Tell me what I can do.”
He lets out a deep sigh, loosens his grip on you, and leans back. “I’m just in my head. It’s not a big deal,” he tried.
“Babe, I saw most of the game tonight and last night. You may yell at yourself, but arguing with the ump, the pitcher and some jerk in the stands, all in one game, is not like you.”
He sighs again and shakes his head. “I just don’t know what to do. The guys are looking to me to get us going and I can’t hit worth shit. Never mind the error last night…”
“It’s one play. And it wasn’t your fault. I could hear you yelling you had it over the announcers and the crowd. Plus you had a triple. You’re doing great. You have to be kinder to yourself.”
He reaches out for your hand and pulls you in so you’re straddling him. His arms circle your waist as he looks up at you.
“The stress is making me nuts. My anxiety has been super high and this morning I could barely get myself out of bed.”
You instantly recognize the issue since it’s something you’ve struggled with yourself. “Jarren, it’s your depression. You haven’t been taking care of yourself because you’ve been so focused on your teammates.” You place your hands on his jaw, gently holding his face. “Baby, you have to take care of you first.”
He looks down and nods, but you see him struggling. You tilt his face towards yours and place a soft kiss on his lips.
He lets out a breath but still doesn’t look at you. “Tell me what you need, baby” you softly plead.
“I just want to feel something good. Fuck. I just want to feel anything except what I’m feeling now.”
Again you kiss him gently. It’s no more than a whisper. You stand in front of him and begin unbuttoning your dress. Jarren says nothing. Just drinks you in as you let the dress pool at your feet. Reaching behind your back, you unhook your bra letting it join the dress. You hook your thumbs into your panties, but Jarren’s hands stop you. He places feathery kisses on your hips while he peels the panties down your legs.
“Let me take care of you,” you manage to breathe as you kneel between his legs. His eyes never leave yours as you unwrap the towel. He shifts his hips forward to give you better access and you reach out and take him in your hand. He’s not completely hard, but it won’t take long. You can’t help but lick your lips. With your tongue flat, you drag it from root to tip and Jarren’s head falls back.
You waste no time taking him in your mouth. With one hand on his hip, the other works up and down in tandem with your mouth. At first you focus on the tip, looking up to gauge how you’re doing. Jarren still has his head back, eyes closed, just enjoying the sensation.
You can see his breathing has become heavier and his abs look amazing from this angle so you reach up with your free hand and palm the ridges of muscle. This causes him to lift his head and look at you with a fire in his eyes. ‘Game on’ you think before taking as much of him as possible in your mouth. You work faster, getting messy, drool lubricating your hand. You can taste pre-cum and feel the dampness building between your own legs.
When you start clenching them together, Jarren’s demeanor changes. “Fuck, baby. That turn you on? Touch yourself for me.”
You reach down and realize you’re absolutely dripping wet. It causes you to moan, which feels amazing on Jarren’s cock. “Keep rubbing, baby, make yourself cum for me.”
You obey, but your focus falters. Chasing your own high you lift your mouth off Jarren. He takes himself in hand and slowly jerks up and down. He continues to encourage you and before long you unravel, calling out his name.
Jarren leans over and kisses you. It’s feral. Heated. Like he can’t get enough. He pulls your hand to his mouth and licks your fingers clean. Pulling you off your knees, he picks you up and carries you to bed. The look on his face is carnal.
Hands behind your knees he pulls you to the edge of the bed and spreads your legs. Before you can even react, his mouth is on your core. Licking, nibbling, sucking. Your head is spinning and he has only just begun. When you thread your fingers into his hair, he looks up, only pausing to smirk before roughly pushing 2 fingers inside.
Sounds escape you that you have no control over as he curls his fingers and rubs your most sensitive spot. Hips bucking, he holds you down with his other arm. You are barely holding on to reality it feels so amazing. Suddenly, you come undone crying out words that make no sense.
When you come back to earth, Jarren’s face is next to yours. “Welcome back ,” he teases, placing light kisses on your neck and face. You suddenly realize you came twice, but he didn’t.
He sees the recognition cross your face, “I’m nowhere near done with you. I just thought you needed a break”. He kisses you again, sliding his tongue against yours while he maneuvers his body over yours.
You reach down and guide him into your warmth. It’s tighter than usual because of the strength of your last orgasm. “Fuck” he hisses. “Feels so good. Always so good.”
Primal instinct takes over and he pumps his hips in a perfect rhythm. You run your hands all over his skin, feeling the taut muscles flex. His rhythm starts to falter the closer he gets to his release. The thrusts are deeper and rougher and you feel yourself climbing again.
Without thinking you reach down to rub your clit and it drives Jarren crazy. “That’s it baby, make yourself feel good. Such a good girl for me.”
Those words push you over the edge and the grip of your pussy on his dick makes Jarren practically growl your name as he fills you.
You stroke his back while he’s collapsed on top of you. You can feel him go soft inside of you and you love that you’re still connected.
When he extracts himself from your tangled limbs and lays next to you, his body language has changed. He looks relaxed and at ease. “This is going to sound a little weird but…thank you for that.”
“You’re welcome?”
“I just mean I was trapped in my head the past few days. I needed you to snap me out of it,” he grins, “not exactly what I planned, but it certainly worked” he laughs.
You play smack him. “Glad I could help” you roll your eyes.
“I know your work is crazy right now, I guess I just needed you and I didn’t want to add any more pressure”
“Babe, being with you takes away the stress. You matter more than my job. I’m sorry I got so distracted that I wasn’t giving you what you need. But I definitely won’t complain if I get THAT treatment every time you need me.”
please write more Jarren Duran, like maybe a protective Jarren?
hi anon😏 jarren seems like a sentimental guy, so i can see him being protective over his s/o. i love writing him<333
he’s always been fast on the field, but off it, it’s different—he’s slower, careful, like he’s measuring every step to make sure you’re safe. when someone brushes too close or gives you a look that makes you uncomfortable, he’s there before you even notice it, hand finding your wrist, pulling you a little closer, eyes flashing.
“don’t worry,” he murmurs, voice low, just for you. “i got you.”
he lingers near you, arm brushing yours as if it’s instinct, leaning just slightly so his presence is constant. when the world feels overwhelming, he tucks his hand into yours, thumb brushing circles over your knuckles, grounding you.
and at night, when the quiet settles in, he still hovers, kisses your temple, whispers your name softly, draping his jacket over your shoulders even when you insist you don’t need it. it’s subtle, small gestures, but it’s all him: protective, gentle, completely devoted.
he’s the kind of person you can feel wrapped around you even when he’s just standing next to you. and it makes your chest ache, that soft, unwavering intensity he carries just for you.
Could you maybe do Jarren out on a date with his s/o like she’s a bit tipsy but he’s 100% sober
ofc!!! honestly i could see jarren becoming the responsible one in the relationship, especially if his s/o is younger. (sorry for the length, i got self indulgent LOL)
you’re leaning against him, cheeks flushed from the wine, laughter spilling out of you so easy it makes his chest ache. the restaurant’s dim, candlelight catching in your hair, and you’re animated, telling some story with your hands moving everywhere. he can’t stop staring, can’t stop thinking about how lucky he is just to be here with you.
you sip your drink again, eyes shining, and when you set it down a little too hard, he’s already steadying the glass, steadying you. “slow down, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and careful, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips—he loves seeing you happy, loves seeing you like this, soft and carefree.
when you lean your head on his shoulder, sighing dramatically about how warm and safe he feels, his heart damn near gives out. he presses a kiss to your hair, one arm curling around your waist like instinct, keeping you anchored against him. “i’ll get you home, don’t worry,” he promises, thumb brushing your side in small circles.
later, walking you out, your heels click unevenly against the sidewalk, and he laughs quietly when you cling tighter to his arm. “i could carry you, y’know,” he teases, eyes glinting, but his touch stays steady, protective, making sure every step you take is easy.
and when you mumble something about how much you love him, words slurred but so honest, he swallows hard, steadying you with both hands now. “say it again when you’re sober,” he whispers, kissing your temple, “but i’ll keep it safe for now.”
he gets you home without a hitch, unlocking the door with the key you handed over, guiding you inside with a steady hand on your lower back. you’re giggling at something he said in the car, swaying just a little, but when the door clicks shut, you turn in his arms—eyes shining, lips curved in that tipsy, bold smile that makes his chest go tight.
“you’re so handsome,” you tell him, voice a little too loud in the quiet apartment, hands fisting in his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll walk away. “do you know that? like… unfair handsome.”
his laugh rumbles low, soft against your ear as he steadies you. “you’re drunk, baby,” he teases, but the way your hands slide up his chest, slow and insistent, makes his breath catch.
“i’m honest,” you counter, tugging him closer until your lips brush his jaw. the boldness in you is unshakable tonight, fingertips grazing the line of his collar, your voice dropping. “don’t you wanna kiss me?”
his jaw tightens, a mix of restraint and want. he cups your cheek, thumb stroking over your skin, grounding you. “more than anything,” he admits, voice rough, “but you’ve had a lot to drink.”
you pout, lips brushing his thumb, and he exhales sharp when you press a clumsy kiss there. “jarren…” your voice is all soft plea, and it makes his resolve waver.
he leans in, finally, pressing his lips to yours—but it’s gentle, slow, like he’s memorizing the taste of you without taking it further. your hands curl in his hair, tugging him deeper, and he lets you, kissing you back with a hunger he can’t hide anymore.
when he finally pulls back, foreheads pressed together, his voice is low and aching. “let me take care of you, okay? tonight, that means water, cuddles, and me holding you until you fall asleep.”
you sigh, half-frustrated, half-melting, and he grins against your lips. “tomorrow,” he whispers, “when you’re sober… then you’ll see how bad i really want you.”
i’ve never drank before so i hope this isn’t inaccurate😬😬 nevertheless tysm for reading!!!

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
when is jd giving us a gq tattoo tour?? 😮💨
this made me emotional 😭🥹
Wait Until We Get Home (1)
a/n: guys. i let the freak out with this one. LET ME KNOW HOW WE LIKE THE JARREN SMUT ON HERE BC IF THIS DOES WELL I'M NOT HOLDING BACK FOR Y'ALL ANYMORE. (also tumblr is so mf stupid i don't know why i can't just post everything in one long fic ugh) word count: 3.4k warnings: smut 18+ MDNI, oral, (m and f receiving) overstimulation if you squint hard enough, rough sex, hair pulling, unprotected sex/creampie (smut will be in next part) ────୨ৎ──── You’re trying to behave yourself. Really. You are. The team claimed the entire outdoor patio of a little restaurant that Bregman recommended for the off day. It’s tucked far enough from the main street to pretend that you’re invisible. The owners closed it off just for them, so there’s no one watching but the staff. Everyone’s in shorts or t-shirts, sunglasses perched on top of their heads, plates of food scattered across the joined tables. Some of the other girlfriends and wives are there, clustered with you at one end of the table. You’re nodding along to the conversation, sure, but your focus keeps drifting to where Jarren’s sitting with Trevor, Rob, Roman, Marcelo, and Romy. His hat is backwards. And he keeps lifting it off his head to shake his curls out before putting it back on. Every time his arms raise to pick it up, you bite your lip without even realizing it. It’s not just his curls. It’s the way that his dark green t-shirt fits across his chest, stretching slightly whenever he leans forward to grab his drink. It’s the way his tattoos wind down his arms, ink catching the sunlight in a way that makes you want to lick every inch of black ink off his skin. And his fucking arms. The fabric was clinging for dear life around his biceps, and every shift in posture made them flex in new ways that had you squeezing your thighs together under the table. It’s the little things—rolling his shoulders, leaning back with one arm draped over the chair next to him, tapping his thumb against the condensation on his glass—that shouldn’t mean anything. But they do. They mean everything right now. Reagan, Bregman’s wife, is next to you telling a story about her wedding reception mishap, and you can manage to laugh at the right part, but it’s automatic. Because all you can really hear is the low rumble of Jarren’s voice from across the table, deep and casual as he talked to Trevor and Roman. You glance over, trying to be subtle. And fail. He’s already looking at you. It’s not just a glance—it’s a slow, steady I see you kind of stare. His mouth tilts at the corner, almost like he’s amused by something you haven’t said. You look away quickly, but your cheeks are already warming from the heat crawling up your neck. When you risk another peek, his eyes never even left you.
And now you see it—he’s doing the same thing you’ve been doing all afternoon. His eyes flick down to your frame before meeting yours again, slow enough that you know he’s not sorry about it. Your denim shorts leave your legs bare in the sunlight, and the cropped tank top you’re wearing keeps the heat from getting to you…but it’s also giving him a view of your cleavage and those perky tits he loves so much. Your hair shifts with the breeze, catching the Boston sun, and your makeup—though you barely thought twice about it this morning—has just enough shimmer and shine to make you look like you belong on the cover of Vogue. The way he’s looking at you makes your stomach flip. Makes you remember exactly how it feels when it’s just the two of you and there’s nothing to stop him from having his way. Someone at your table says your name, snapping you out of it. You murmur a distracted “hmm?” and get teased for zoning out. You mutter something about the heat, but when you sneak another glance across the table, Jarren’s grinning—because he knows exactly why you weren’t paying attention. And by the way his gaze lingers a beat too long, you know he’s thinking the same thing you are. Just wait until we get home. The second the two of you are in his truck, the air changes. The door shuts, the engine rumbles to life, and suddenly there’s nothing but the sound of the AC working overtime against the heavy summer heat. You settle into the passenger seat, the sunlight streaming through the windshield making your skin warm. Jarren’s quiet. So quiet that it hurts. His tattooed hand is resting loose on the steering wheel, the other draped casually over your thigh—except there’s nothing casual about the way his thumb traces slow circles against your skin. You stare out the window for a moment, trying not to think about the way he’s touching you, but the memory of lunch keeps creeping back in—his curls, his arms, the tattoos, the way he looked at you like he was already imagining what would happen when you both got home.
NEW. via victussports on instagram.
Jarren Duran NSFW Alphabet
this ended up taking significantly longer than expected, and it would not have been possible without major help from @prollywolly so be sure to check out her wattpad if you haven’t already.
if you have more jarren concepts you want to discuss, feel free to send them my way. enjoy!

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i have no words ts is so fucking funny 😭😭😭😭
Trade Deadline - A Jarren Duran Oneshot
⚾︎ Jarren Duran is used to trade rumors. Used to being the name casually tossed around in deadline talks like a chess piece. But this year feels different. This year, the rumors feel real.⚾︎
Trigger Warnings: Anxiety (Panic Attack)
Pairing: Jarren Duran x Reader (Gender Non-Specified)
Word Count: 1,300(ish)
Author's Note: If my glorious king gets traded, I'm personally traveling to Breslow's house and kidnapping him!
(joking, joking, i can't drive)
⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎
July 28th, 11:36 P.M.
The soft hum of the fan overhead did nothing to drown out the silence that followed the sound of the front door clicking shut. You were sprawled across the couch, the Red Sox game muted on the TV, half-watching the replay of the last inning when you heard it—the silence. The kind that wasn’t empty but heavy. The kind that said something had gone wrong.
You sat up as Jarren walked in, dropping his bag with an exhausted thud by the door. His face was unreadable, the kind of blank that only came after carefully choosing which emotion to bury.
“Hey, babe,” you said gently. “Good game today."
He didn’t answer. Just walked over to the coffee table, pulled out his phone, and tossed it down like it burned him. The screen lit up for a second as it landed. You caught a glimpse of a tweet before it dimmed.
"Red Sox shopping Duran, teams interested."
You didn’t say anything right away. Your heart lurched in your chest, a sharp pang of anxiety creeping up your spine. Jarren didn’t sit, just hovered beside the couch, hands flexing at his sides.
“Twitter?” you asked quietly.
He finally looked at you, but his eyes were too far away. “Yeah.”
“Is it real?”
He shook his head, too fast. “Probably not. Just one of those bullshit accounts. Trying to stir the pot.”
But his voice was tight, his shoulders tense. You knew him well enough to see the truth hidden behind his nonchalance.
"Are you sure? What did it say?"
"Boston news is saying they wanna trade me and some prospects for Joe Ryan." He mumbled, refusing to look at you in the eye.
"The Twin, right? Pitcher?"
Jarren doesn't respond, just leaning down and kissing your forehead. He lingered for a beat too long, his hand gripping your shoulders a little too hard. His lips were soft, but his smile never reached his eyes.
“Let’s not talk about it,” he murmured.
So you didn’t. But you both thought about it all night.
⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎
July 29th, 8:06 A.M.
The bathroom mirror fogged from the steam as you stood side-by-side brushing your teeth. The comforting silence of your morning routine filled the space: the rhythmic brushing, the occasional bump of elbows, the creak of the floorboards under your socked feet.
You spat and rinsed, patting your mouth with a towel, when Jarren’s voice broke through, soft and cautious.
“Would you move to San Diego? Or Minnesota?"
You blinked. “What?”
He was still brushing, eyes on the mirror, but you saw the way his brows pinched slightly. He spit and wiped his mouth, finally meeting your gaze.
“Just…wondering.”
Your heart sank. So the rumors hadn’t just been rumors. Or at least, not in his head.
You turned and leaned against the counter, facing him fully. “I’d follow you anywhere. You know that.”
He nodded, but his jaw stayed clenched. You reached out and touched his cheek, brushing your thumb over the bone.
“But it’s okay if you’re scared,” you added softly.
That broke him.
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck. His breath was warm against your skin.
“I just don’t want to be unwanted again,” he whispered.
You held him tighter, your voice thick with emotion. “You’re not. Not by them. And never by me.”
⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎
July 30th, 6:02 A.M.
You woke up alone.
The sheets were cool beside you, the faint creak of the floorboards giving away his location. You padded out into the living room to find him pacing, eyes bloodshot, a half-zipped suitcase on the floor.
Your stomach turned. “Jarren?”
He didn’t look at you. “Just being safe.”
You walked closer, touching the edge of the suitcase. “Do you know something?”
He finally looked up, eyes glassy. “No. Not yet.”
But his voice was hollow.
You crossed to the kitchen and started making breakfast. Scrambled eggs, toast, fruit. Something to ground you both.
He didn’t eat. Just stared at the floor.
You sat beside him at the kitchen island and reached for his hand. At first, he stiffened, shoulders still locked in tension. But then, slowly, he softened, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him from unraveling.
Later that morning, while you folded laundry in the bedroom, you heard a sharp breath from the living room. A choked sound.
You rushed out to find Jarren sitting on the floor, back against the couch, phone in hand. His thumb hovered above the screen, his face pale.
“What happened?” you asked, heart racing.
He didn’t respond right away. His chest rose and fell in erratic bursts. You knelt beside him, glancing at the phone. A new tweet from a Blue Jays insider: "Duran linked to Toronto in late-developing trade talks."
"I can't—" he gasped, voice breaking. "I thought it was over."
His hands trembled. You grabbed them quickly, grounding him, guiding them to your chest so he could feel your heartbeat.
“Breathe with me,” you whispered. “You’re safe. Right here. I’ve got you.”
It took a few minutes, but eventually the panic passed. He collapsed into your arms, eyes wet, body shaking.
“I hate this,” he whispered. “The waiting. The not knowing.”
You kissed his temple. “I know. I’m here.”
⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎
July 30th, 1:00 P.M.
Your phone buzzed.
Jarren 🩶
You answered instantly. “Hey—”
His voice was hushed, low. “They pulled me into a room.”
Your breath caught. “What?”
He sounded like he was in a closet. “Said nothing’s official. But… they’re working on something.”
You couldn’t form words. Couldn’t process anything except the fear in his voice.
“I—” you started.
“I just wanted you to know. Before Twitter does.”
“I love you.”
There was a pause.
Then he hung up.
⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎
July 30th, 3:58 PM
You were curled on the couch, eyes glued to the clock on your phone.
3:57.
3:58.
Buzz.
Jarren: I’m staying.
You burst into tears.
It wasn’t pretty crying. It was messy, gasping, snot-and-sobs crying. Relief crashed into you like a wave.
Ten minutes later, the door opened. Jarren walked in, dropped his bags, and didn’t say a word. He just crossed the room in three long strides and picked you up, holding you against his chest so tightly it hurt.
“I thought—” he started, but didn’t finish.
You just shook your head into his shoulder. “You’re here.”
“I’m here.”
⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎
July 30th, 10:53 P.M.
The bedroom was quiet, the soft hum of the AC mixing with the sounds of the city. You lay tangled in the sheets, your leg draped over Jarren’s hip, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.
“I thought I was gone,” he said into the dark.
You turned your head. “What?”
“I was convinced. I kept thinking—I knew it was too good to last. That I’d get traded. That they didn’t see me as part of the plan.”
His voice cracked, just a little. "Sometimes it feels like I'm always one bad week away from being disposable. Like no matter what I do, they’ll never see me as more than… temporary."
You scooted closer under the covers, pressing your palm flat against his chest, right where his heart was thudding.
“You’re not disposable. You’re a cornerstone. I’ve watched every game, every inning—you’ve made yourself undeniable.”
Jarren let out a bitter laugh. “Tell that to the front office. Tell that to Craig and Rob. They’ll trade a soul for a stat line.”
You frowned. “You’re more than your OPS. More than your sprint speed, your glove. You’re a whole person. You matter.”
He blinked rapidly in the dark. “You really believe that?”
“I do.”
He was quiet for a beat. Then, almost a whisper: “You make me believe it too.”
You cupped his face, your thumb brushing over the skin beneath his eye.
“You belong here. On the team. With me.”
He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your collarbone.
“I just needed someone to say that out loud.”
⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎⚾︎
August 1st, 7:07 P.M.
The crowd at Fenway roared louder than usual as Jarren stepped up to the plate.
You were in your usual seat, right by the dugout, wearing his jersey and chewing your nails nervously.
The first pitch came. He connected, sending a line drive into right-center for a single.
The stadium erupted.
As he stood at first base, he glanced toward your seat and pointed directly at you.
i have no words ts is so fucking funny 😭😭😭😭
Pls keep writing for jarren duran it’s feeding my delusions
ok
It’s a slow burn. You meet at Fenway, and the vibe is there immediately. He’s charming, you’re funny, both of you clearly into it—but neither of you makes a move.
You post thirst traps. He likes them but doesn’t comment. He posts gym selfies. You reply with 🥱 or “you done?” just to mess with him.
Your DMs are like:
You: “Solid game. 2 for 4. I’m impressed or whatever.” Him: “I’ll let you sing at my wedding if I hit a triple tomorrow.” You: “You wish.”
There’s this unspoken tension. Like you’re both waiting for the other to crack first. You flirt just enough to keep him on the hook, and he does the same. You know he has a crush. He knows you’re into him. But it’s a stand-off.
One Night After a Game…
You’re in the player’s lounge, sipping a drink post-show. You were the surprise guest performer, and you crushed it. Jarren walks in, still in his game fit—sweat-slicked curls, eye black smeared, cocky little grin.
He tosses a Gatorade your way and leans against the counter.
“You really like messing with me, huh?” he says.
You raise an eyebrow. “You mean existing in your general vicinity? Yeah. That’s my favorite hobby.”
He laughs, shaking his head like he can’t believe you. But then he gets quiet—his stare lingers. It’s different this time. Less joking.
“I’m serious.” His voice drops. “You know I’ve been tryna play it cool, but like…” He exhales hard. “Screw it.”
He steps closer.
“I want to take you out. Like a real date. None of this Instagram BS. I’m not playing anymore.”
You blink. Heart doing backflips. Because finally.
You smirk—still not giving in too easily. “What took you so long?”
He grins, almost relieved. “You’re intimidating as hell.”
You take a sip of your drink. “Good.”
Then you lean in, close enough to drive him insane, and whisper—
“Pick me up at 7.”
And that’s when Jarren completely folds. He walks away like he just hit a walk-off homer. Grinning like a man who finally won the game.
thinking about how jarren duran would tattoo your hand writing on his lower stomach. it would such an intimate tattoo, one that no one could see but you.
a small “devoted to you” in your cursive is stamped where his pelvic bone and lower hip meet. he had taken a quote from one of the first letters you two had sent each other at the beginning of your relationship.
it had been long distance for a few months until you moved in with him. those first few months truly solidifying your relationship. quickly after you moved in, he got the tattoo for you. he had numerous tattoos, which you loved equally but this one now held a special place in your heart.
you remember when you first saw it. you had been doing the bed, getting ready to sleep. you sat on the be while jarren was showering.
he came out with a towel hung low on his hips. you could see a peek of something black close to the edge of the towel. as he moved closer to you, you grew more curious.
you reached your hand out and he grabbed your wrist, instinctively thinking you were going to touch the tattoo. confusion all of your face, he lowered the towel in which you saw your handwriting on him.
it was still swollen with a small hint of red spread around it. but it was beautiful and very sentimental to both of you.
it was one that the fans wouldn’t see, just one for your eyes. it was for you and only for you. it was one of your favorite things to look at. to rub your thumb over and feel the skin with the ink imbedded deep into it.
you always wanted to touch it, especially when you’re on your knees for him. looking up with his hand tangled in your hair, and you can’t help look at the tattoo. it’s a small mark that shows he’s yours, completely.
it’d motivate you, making you stuff him farther into your mouth. your free hand stroking whatever didn’t fit. jarren’s head thrown back, where you could see his adam’s apple.
your tongue running over his tip, then under his shaft- tracing the veins. groans escaping his mouth as you grew more desperate. he could hear the sounds of your mouth working on him, only adding to the fire in his belly.
his large hand would push your head, feeling your throat contract around him. your pretty lashes batting up at him while your mouth was stuffed of him sent him over the edge.
he’d pull back slightly, tip still in your mouth. which is where he’d finish in, your mouth filled with his seed. which you swallow, not letting it go to waste.
his rough palm rubbing your cheek after you kiss your favorite tattoo.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
This team is so silly how can we not go to the world series
jarren in bed ;))
im ovulating pls pls excuse this insanity😭
warning! straight smut lmaooo
18+ only!! reader has a pussy but no pronouns used :)
jarren's biiiig on eye contact
“cmon baby look at me” “eyes here cmon” “eyes on me”
also lives to mark you up
if you say not in visible places he’ll stick to that but nothing makes him feel more satisfied than looking at that physical proof of the pleasure he gives you
your thighs, chest, collarbone
also big on leaving handprints, whether that's handprints on your ass or just marks from holding onto your waist that tight
and loves when you leave marks on him as well
scratches down his back, hickies, whatever you have to give he will take
but he's not just a taker
he needs a little encouragement but once you hype him up his head game will take you to new dimensions
hands gripping your thighs, keeping your legs spread for him, juices dripping down his chin, completely pussy drunk
initially he didn’t think he was that good but the ego boost he gets by getting you off from just his mouth is its own kind of high and just encourages him more
on the other hand, he goes completely slack jawed, eyes rolled back and empty brained when you wrap your lips around his cock
he swears there's nothing like it, even what you might feel isn’t your best doesn't fail to make him crazy
but he truly cannot fathom a better feeling than when he finally presses his cock into your warmth
the sounds you make and the look on your face and just the way your body responds to him
but once he's made sure you’re ok and comfortable he always sets a brutal pace
pounding into you and god does it feel good
he’ll throw in a little “this one works for you?” “feels good like this?” "yeah? is that good baby?" making sure its still feeling good and teasing you a little ofc
he has an appreciation for doggy and cowgirl but he loves being able to set a merciless pace and watch each reaction on your face
missionary is a classic for a reason!
almost always ends up with him leaning down with his head by your face
he’s able to hear all the little sounds you make
and your ears are filled with all of his encouragements and moans
you can always tell when he’s close to his high
his panting gets faster and more intense
and he really loses the ability to form any sort of coherent thought outside of the sensations running through both of your bodies
“fuck fuck fuck fuck baby fuck fuck fuck”
your moans and the tightening between your legs and your nails cutting into his shoulders and scratching down the length of his back all combine for the ultimate symphony to drive him over the edge
and in turn the white hot sensations running down the base of your spine are truly the combination of his brutal pace along with his grip on your hip and hot breath on your neck and groans into your ear
he maybe didn’t quite get it the first few times but once you suggested he try touching your clit he felt like he had the cheat code
not only does it make you go crazy and react so beautifully with
he can't get over your sounds and the way your back arches
but it makes you clench down on his dick in a way that feels unreal
he makes sure you finish before him, if only because seeing you go over the edge makes it feel so much better for him
once you’ve both caught your breath he’s the one to carry you to get you cleaned up
he's really big on communication and talking through how you’re feeling and making sure that you felt good the whole time
if you have any feedback or suggestions he will absolutely keep that in mind for the next time and check in
even when it comes to going to sleep after he’ll make sure you know how good it was for him
murmuring praise into your skin as he drifts off