#soft jake

Demons fulfill their contracts. They stay until their obligations are met. That’s how this works.

So why does it feel like Jake isn’t in a rush to leave?

Why does it feel like he’s making himself comfortable?

Why does it feel like he’s lingering for reasons he hasn’t said?

The thought makes something tighten in your chest, something you don’t know how to name, something you don’t know if you want to name.

So you shake it off.

You let it sit in the back of your mind, ignored but not forgotten. And instead, you focus on the one thing you have been wanting to ask for a while now.

Jake doesn’t flinch when you break the silence.

"What exactly do demons do all day?"

He hums, tilting his head, fingers still tapping lightly against the couch. "Depends on the rank."

You raise a brow. "Ranks?"

He nods. "Higher demons oversee contracts, lower demons cause mischief. Middle-rankers like me? We get the fun jobs."

You don’t miss the smirk tugging at his lips, the way his golden eyes flick toward you, waiting for you to ask. So you do.

"And what exactly is a fun job for a demon?"

Jake leans back against the couch, stretching lazily before answering. "Tempting humans. Making deals. Ensuring your kind makes bad decisions." He grins. "Turns out, you don’t need much help with that."

You roll your eyes. "Rude."

"It’s a talent."

You huff, taking a sip of your drink before continuing. "And what happens when a human makes a contract with a demon?"

The question shifts something in the air. It’s small, subtle, barely noticeable—but it’s there.

Jake sets the remote down, his expression shifting just slightly. "Depends. Some sell their souls. Others ask for things that come with... consequences." His voice dips, turning quieter. "Demons are bound by the contract, but humans rarely read the fine print."

Your stomach tightens. Because there is something unspoken in his tone, something weighty, something that lingers between the words.

And then—you ask the question that changes everything.

"And what about you? Have you ever… taken a soul?"

The silence that follows is thick.

Not tense. Just... heavy.

Jake doesn’t answer right away. His golden eyes flick toward you—not sharp, not defensive, but measured. Considering.

"I don’t take what’s not given."

His voice is quiet. Too quiet. And something about the way he says it makes your chest ache.

Because you believe him. It doesn’t sound like an excuse nor a lie.

It sounds like a rule. A choice. Something he decided long ago.

Suddenly, you don’t know what to say. Because you had assumed.

Assumed that demons—all demons—did what they wanted without care, without guilt, without restraint. Assumed that Jake, for all his arrogance, for all his teasing, for all his smug confidence, was just like the stories told him to be.

But now?

Now, you aren’t so sure.

Now, you are realizing that there are things about him you don’t understand. You are realizing that Jake is not what you thought he was. The realization settles between you, thick, unspoken.

And for the first time, Jake is the one who looks away first. He reaches for the remote, flipping the channel without a word.

And just like that—the conversation is over.

But the weight of it stays. That’s when you realize—you don’t want to dance around it anymore.

You have a wish.

Tonight, you’re going to use it.

Later that night, when the apartment is quiet, when Jake is distracted, when the weight of the earlier conversation lingers in the air like something unfinished—

You speak your wish into existence. Without giving him time to react.

"I wish that the demon before me would be compelled to reveal the single biggest regret in its entire existence... and then forget they ever said it."

The moment the words leave your lips, you feel the magic take hold.

Jake freezes. His body tenses. His golden eyes widen—just for a second—before they glow. The reaction is instant, uncontrollable, something even he cannot fight.

Then, in a voice you have never heard before—

He speaks. His voice is not teasing. His voice is not cocky. His voice is not Jake.

"I regret trusting a human."

Your breath catches.

Jake’s face is blank—not guarded, not hesitant, just blank, like the words are being pulled from him without his control, like he is only realizing what he’s saying as the words leave his mouth.

"I thought they were different." His voice is quiet now, distant, like he isn’t in the room anymore. "I thought they wouldn’t betray me."

Something cold and sharp lodges itself in your chest.

"But they did."

Your stomach drops.

Jake exhales, his golden eyes unfocused. "And I learned that demons don’t get second chances."

The words hang in the air.

Heavy. Unshakable.

And then he blinks. His body relaxes. And you watch—heart pounding, breath uneven—as the magic washes over him, erasing the moment from his mind.

His golden eyes refocus, flicking toward you lazily, like nothing just happened. Like he hadn’t just revealed the single most painful thing in his existence.

"What?" He raises a brow. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

You cannot speak. Because you remember and he doesn’t. Because now, you are the only one who knows.

And Jake?

Jake will never know what he just told you.

You should drop it. You should pretend you didn’t hear what he said.

But you can’t. Because it stays.

Because you cannot ignore the weight in his voice, the ache beneath the words, the way his golden eyes darkened with something too heavy for him to name.

So you ask.

Soft. Careful.

"What did you mean by that?"

Jake freezes.

It’s subtle, quick, but you see it. His fingers twitch slightly where they rest against his knee. His golden eyes flicker—not glowing, not sharp, but guarded.

He smirks.

"What are you talking about, angel?" His voice is smooth, too smooth, like he’s buying himself time, like he’s already backpedaling.

But you don’t let him.

"You said you regret trusting a human."

Jake’s smirk falters—just barely, just for a second. Then it returns.

"Did I?" He tilts his head, feigning confusion, but there is tension in his posture now. "Doesn’t sound like me. I don’t regret anything."

You don’t blink.

"Liar."

Jake goes still.

For a moment, he doesn’t answer. He lets the silence stretch, lets it breathe, lets himself consider if this is something he is willing to share.

He exhales. It’s sharp, controlled, but not enough.

"It was a long time ago." His voice is quieter now, lacking its usual teasing weight. "Before I became what I am now. Before I—before all of this."

Your breath catches.

"Before you were a demon?"

Jake hesitates. Just slightly. Then he nods.

Well, this is bigger than you expected. Because Jake wasn’t always like this. He wasn’t always what he is now.

"I was human once."

The words settle in the air between you. You don’t speak and if you do, he might stop.

Jake leans back against the couch, one arm draped lazily over the back—but there is nothing lazy about the way his fingers dig into the fabric, like he is grounding himself, like he is holding onto something invisible.

"I had a family." His voice is slow, careful, as if he’s reaching for a memory he hasn’t touched in a long, long time. "A younger sibling. A home. A life that was… normal. As normal as things could be back then."

Jake doesn’t speak like someone recalling fond memories. He speaks like someone remembering the way something was lost.

"We didn’t have much, but we had each other." His golden eyes darken, his gaze unfocused, staring at something you cannot see. "And for a while, that was enough."

"But life isn’t fair." His voice dips lower, softer, more bitter. "Especially not to people like us."

"Someone made a deal."

The words hit harder than they should.

"Not me. But someone close to me." His fingers tighten slightly, his jaw clenching. "They were desperate. They wanted a way out, a better life. And they thought…"

Jake stops himself. Then, after a long, painful pause—

"They thought they could trust the demon that offered it."

His golden eyes flicker, his expression harder now, sharper, filled with something raw. "They didn’t read the fine print."

You swallow. "And what happened?"

Jake laughs. But it is not amused.

"They were tricked." His voice is even now, controlled, but you can feel the weight beneath it. "The deal cost more than what they were willing to pay. And when it came time for payment… the demon didn’t care that they had regrets."

A pause.

A slow, aching pause.

"They died, angel."

Your heart clenches.

Jake exhales, slow and measured, but you see it now.

The anger.

The bitterness.

The guilt.

"I tried to stop it." He lets out a sharp breath. "I tried to fight it. But humans? We don’t win against demons."

A bitter chuckle.

"And then I died too."

The words land softly, but they shake something in you, something deep, something raw. You don’t react at first—not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t. Because Jake has never spoken about his past like this. Because this is not the same demon who taunts you, teases you, smirks lazily from across the room like nothing in the world can touch him.

Right now, he looks like something did.

The golden glow of his eyes is dim, unfocused, as if his mind is caught somewhere between then and now. His posture is different—his usual arrogance stripped down into something quieter, something more vulnerable. His fingers tap idly against his knee, too controlled, too rhythmic, like he is forcing himself to stay in the present, like he is not used to telling this story out loud.

"Jake..." Your voice is soft, barely above a whisper, as if saying his name too loudly might shatter whatever fragile thread is holding this moment together.

He doesn’t look at you right away. And then he does.

His golden eyes flicker toward yours, and there it is—that moment of hesitation, of realization, of knowing that you are going to say something he does not want to hear.

So he looks away.

"Don’t." His voice is low, softer than usual, but steady. "Whatever you’re about to say—just don’t."

But how could you not?

How could you hear something like that—feel something like that—and pretend it didn’t matter?

How could you pretend that he didn’t matter?

The space between you feels too wide, too empty, too wrong.

Before you can stop yourself—before you can even think about whether this is a good idea or not—you move.

Instinct. Warmth. Comfort.

You close the distance, arms wrapping around him in a way that feels natural, like something you were always meant to do. Something he was never meant to expect.

Jake stiffens immediately.

It’s quick—a sharp inhale, a slight tensing of his shoulders, a flicker of disbelief that you can feel through the way his breath catches.

"What are you doing?" His voice is quiet, slightly uneven, like the words come out before he can think about them.

You don’t move.

"Hugging you."

Another pause. A slow inhale.

Then—softer, quieter, more uncertain than you have ever heard him—

"Why?"

Your arms tighten slightly, just enough for him to feel it, just enough to remind him that you are here.

"Because you need it."

Jake exhales—a shaky, uneven breath that he tries to cover up, but you hear it anyway.

"I don’t—"

But he doesn’t finish the sentence. Because, deep down, you both know it’s a lie.

Slowly, finally—He leans into you.

At first, it’s hesitant. His arms stay loose, his body still tense, like he isn’t sure if he should return the embrace, like he is still holding onto the instinct to pull away.

But something shifts. His fingers twitch, his breath hitches—a fraction of a second, barely noticeable, but you feel it.

He holds you back.

Firm. Solid. Tighter than you expected.

Like he is grounding himself in this moment.

Like he doesn’t understand why you are doing this, but he doesn’t want you to stop.

Like he is terrified that if he lets go, this will never happen again.

Your arms tighten in response, offering warmth, offering steadiness, offering something he has not had in a long, long time. For the first time, Jake lets himself be held.

Neither of you speak. Then softer than before, quieter, like he doesn’t want to say it out loud—

"I should have done more."

Your fingers curl slightly against his back.

"More?"

His voice is lower now, rougher, like he is pulling the words from somewhere deep. "I should’ve stopped them. I should’ve found another way. I should’ve—"

He stops. Swallows.

"I failed them."

Your chest tightens. Because you hate that he thinks that.

So you do something neither of you expect. You pull back just slightly—just enough to cup his face between your hands. His golden eyes widen, flickering with something unreadable.

Your touch is warm, steady, grounding. And when you speak, your voice is just as steady.

"You tried."

Jake doesn’t move.

"You fought for them. You did everything you could. That’s not failure, Jake. That’s love."

His breath stalls.

His golden eyes lock onto yours—uncertain, searching, like he is trying to find something in your expression that he doesn’t know how to name. Your thumbs brush softly against his cheekbones, the warmth of your touch melting something in him, something he wasn’t ready to let go of.

"You didn’t fail them, Jake."

He exhales—slow, shaky, uneven. Then he leans into your touch. Eventually, Jake shifts.

Not abruptly. Not like he’s trying to escape. Just… slowly. Like he doesn’t want to move, but he knows he has to. His arms loosen. His body pulls back—not too far, just enough to put space between you again.

His golden eyes meet yours, they look softer. Not broken. Not shattered. Just… softer.

Then he smirks.

Lazy. Arrogant. Almost normal.

"Getting attached, angel?"

You roll your eyes. "Oh, shut up."

But Jake doesn’t move and neither do you.

Because something is still lingering between you. Something that wasn’t there before. Something neither of you are naming just yet.

The room feels quieter than before, the air between you thicker, heavier, but not suffocating. Just... different. The weight of his past still lingers, a ghost that neither of you can fully shake, but for once—Jake doesn’t seem like he’s drowning in it.

You hesitate, watching him carefully, searching his expression for any trace of the sharp walls he usually throws up. But they’re not there. Not completely.

His golden eyes flick to yours, studying you with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. And then, before you can say anything, before you can even think of breaking the silence—

Jake sighs. A slow, deep breath, like he’s shaking something off.

He moves. Not away, not out of reach, but just enough to lean back against the couch, head tilting against the cushions, arms stretching lazily over the top.

Like nothing happened. Like the past ten minutes weren’t something that neither of you will ever forget.

Like he didn’t just let you hold him.

And yet—his hand lingers. Just barely. Just a slight brush against yours as he moves, a ghost of a touch that he doesn’t pull away from.

"You’re warm, angel," he murmurs, voice smooth again, casual—but too quiet. Too real.

You blink. "Uh. Thanks?"

Jake chuckles, shaking his head.

And just like that, the moment shifts. Not erased. Just... tucked away.

But even as the conversation drifts into something else, even as Jake starts flipping through channels on the TV like he isn’t completely wrecked, even as he pretends that nothing has changed—

You both know it has. Neither of you say it. But you both feel it.

Tonight, you let it stay.

back to the list ⋆˚࿔

taglist : @firstclassjaylee @tya0 @limerenceisserenity @lavendersloane @nodoubtily @rairaiblog

“Mommy!” You heard your daughter, Maya Jane, yell as she ran inside the house you shared with your husband, Jake. You two had moved to Texas before your first child, Daniel, was born, and now you two lived blissfully with your four kids. With her brothers in tow, Maya ran up to you and grinned with her hands behind her back. 

“Mommy-”

“Mommy, guess what?!” Your twins, Ben and Henry, began to pull down on your arms so that you could be at eye level with them.

“Ah, ah, careful,” Jake stepped in and gently helped you down. “Remember, Mommy’s pregnant so we have to be gentle with her.”

“Sorry, Daddy,” the twins said in unison. 

Ben also made sure to press his face onto your stomach and loudly say, “Sorry, Isaac and Ivy!!” After stepping back, Ben bounced on his toes while Henry came and wrapped his arms around one of yours. 

“Ben!! Henry!! Ugh, stop!! I’m trying to give Mommy her flowers!!” With a gasp, one of Maya’s little hands flew out from behind her and clasped over her mouth. “BENNN!! You made me ruin the surprise,” she whined.

“What did I do?” Ben asked.

Quickly losing control of the situation, Jake interjected. “Why don’t you guys give Mommy her present now?” 

“Okay, Daddy!” Daniel yelled, stepping forward to hand you a bouquet of wildflowers. “I picked these with my brothers!” He proudly declared.

“Well, mine are better because they’re from the flower shop and they’re pink and Mommy likes pink and- here, Mommy!” Maya said all at once, forcing the flowers into your other hand. “Mommy, Mommy, you like my flowers, right? They’re pink. Pink is our favorite color.”

“I picked that one,” Henry loudly whispered in your ear, pointing to a wildflower that was arranged about an inch taller than the rest of them. 

“I love flowers!” Ben added, bouncing off the walls. “I like blue flowers and red flowers and pink flowers and orange flowers and I HATE green flowers but I like purple flowers…” Ben trailed off as Jake looked on with tired amusement. 

“Well? Daniel pressed, “Do you like them?”

Tearing up, you smiled first at your babies and then up at your husband, who took the bouquets from your hands. Pulling the kids close, you kissed them each on the tops of their heads and squeezed them until they were giggling and pushing themselves out of your grip. “I love them. I love them all so much. "And," you added, “I love you all so much, my sweet babies.” 

“I love you, Mommy,” each kid said in turn. 

Looking up at Jake, the kids wrapped in a hug once more, you mouthed the words I love you to him.

“I love you too, baby,” he whispered, eyes full of love. 

“Daddy!” Maya harshly whispered. “Daddy, come here!” She waved her dad down to join you on the floor.

“Maya Jane,” Jake said, “if I get down there then I’m not getting back up.”

“You know what I think we should do, then?” You said to the kids, reaching up your arms for them to help you up. “I think we need to just go to Daddy.”

Jake was sick, and though it wasn’t the worst he’d ever felt, it ranked up there. Mostly because he very rarely caught anything. 

The one bright spot for you in his whining was that he finally let you dote on him. Usually, he insisted on taking care of you. While it always made you feel special, you sometimes wished he would let you do the same for him without turning it around. You knew it stemmed from his discomfort with genuine, focused attention, but that didn’t stop your desire to just love on him.

When he was sick, everything flipped on its head. He was so soft and clingy, and you had even managed to get him to lay with his head on your lap.

Both of you had long since stopped paying attention to whatever show played on the TV--Jake because he had fallen asleep and you because you couldn’t stop looking at him. 

Your fingers combed through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He hadn’t ever let you touch his hair before, always claiming he had spent too much time styling it. His golden locks stuck to your fingers, sweaty from his slight fever, but you could still tell how soft it was. You scanned his face, noting happily how the flush was fading from his skin at last.

“You don’t have to stay,” he murmured, shifting his head to press his face against your thigh.

“I like being here with you,” you replied softly, brushing a few strands of hair back from his face. 

He hummed, tipping his head into your hand when your movement stalled. “Keep going, please? Feels good.”

You obliged, and he drifted back to peaceful sleep.

A week later, you still couldn’t get the feel of his hair out of your mind. He had recovered quickly after that one day and hadn’t let you touch his hair since then. Not that you had asked.  You were too nervous to ask and you weren’t sure why.

Tonight, however, it looked like you might get to anyways. Jake came to your apartment from a long day of flight maneuvers and plopped down on the couch, dropping his head onto your lap with a grunt. You leaned down to kiss the side of his head.

“Hey, handsome,” you greeted him quietly.

“Hey, darlin’,” he returned, the words muffled by your shorts.

“Long day?”

Jake grumbled an affirmative as he shifted around to find a comfortable position. You smiled softly at him, though he couldn’t see it. In an effort to comfort him, you squeezed his shoulder then traced your hand up and down his spine.

Internally, you debated whether you actually dared to muss his hair. He still seemed disgruntled, shifting around every few seconds. It was possible that he would only get more upset if you messed with his carefully styled hair. On the other hand, he might actually relax like he had when he was sick. And it was already a little messed up from how he flopped down…

Coming to a decision, you let your fingers slide up his neck and into his hair. You took a moment to revel in being right about how soft his hair was. Something about the slow, steady movement set you even more at ease than you had been, and it did the same for him. Jake took only moments to settle, the tension finally bleeding out of him.

You allowed yourself a triumphant grin as you massaged his scalp. He was nearly purring in your hands. While you had expected him to relax, you had not expected him to enjoy it quite this much.

You were glad he was letting you fiddle with his hair. You hadn’t had the best of days either, and between his warmth and the steady weight of his head in your lap, you were unwinding there on the couch too.

Eventually, you both needed to go to bed, and you had to shake him gently awake to move. Jake was always holding you when you were in bed, but tonight he was even cuddlier than normal. It was like playing with his hair unlocked the softest side of him. He nuzzled into your neck as you fell asleep together.

You weren’t sure if he was even aware of the extra soft side. So instead, you just took advantage of every opportunity to play with his hair without pointing it out to him.

Those opportunities seemed to come at an ever-increasing rate when you moved in together. Tonight, for example, you had come home to find Jake in the kitchen making dinner. You had offered to help, but he just chuckled and lifted you onto the counter.

“I’m almost done,” he had told you, pressing a kiss to your lips before moving back to the stove.

You might have grumbled more if you weren’t so happy to just observe him in the golden light of the early evening. The light complemented his bright grin so perfectly and you couldn’t help but think that he was sunshine personified. 

It seemed especially true when he paused every few minutes to kiss you silly. He started to pull away to go to the fridge, but you pulled him back to steal one more kiss. You swallowed his laugh gladly, giggling yourself when you let him go at last.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he teased, shaking his head at you as he opened the fridge.

“Wait, you think I’m cute? So embarrassing,” you returned. “For you, I mean.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I love you.”

“Wonder all you want.” You shrugged, hiding a sly grin. “You’re stuck with me now.”

He stopped by you again on his way back to the stove, resting a hand on your thigh. “And I thank my lucky stars for it every day, gorgeous.”

You couldn’t resist the urge to lift your hand to his hair, brushing a lock back from his face. It was rather fitting, you thought, that his hair matched the golden light that he brought into your life. Jake’s grin softened, though it was no less bright.

“I love when you do that,” he said quietly, sliding one arm around you to pull himself closer. “I don’t want you to stop, but I really need to stir that pan before it burns.”

“Good thing I’ll still be here when you finish with that.” You combed your fingers through his hair one more time, nudging him to tilt his head down so you could kiss his forehead. You sighed as the warmth of his arm left you. “You told me once that you didn’t like people touching your hair.”

“I… yeah, I was wrong.” Jake looked over at you. “But I only like it when it’s you. It’s relaxing.”

“I’ve noticed. You are the softest man I’ve ever seen when I play with your hair,” you admitted. He looked a little bashful, so you hurried to reassure him, saying simply, “I love your secret soft side. I adore you, Jake Seresin.”

He pulled the pan from the stove and turned the burner off, crossing the distance between you in a few long strides to hold your face in his hands. “It’s too early for me to propose, isn’t it?”

“Maybe just a smidge,” you said, ducking your head a little to hide a laugh, “but I think we’re on the same page about going in that direction.”

“I love you so damn much,” he said, then cut off any reply with his lips on yours.

You returned the affection eagerly, winding your arms around his neck to hold him to you. Not that he needed any convincing to stay close. Jake’s hand moved to your thigh, his grip tightening to mirror your fingers tugging in his hair.

“Dinner’s getting cold,” you mumbled when you parted to breathe.

He recaptured your lips briefly before responding. “Don’t care. We can reheat it.”

You kissed him twice more. “But you put so much work into it.”

“But I wanna kiss you,” he pouted for a second, nudging your nose.

Your hand in his hair tugged him back just enough to really look at each other. The sight of him was something you didn’t think you could ever tire of, especially like this. His hair was messy from your fingers and everything about him emanated warmth and love. You hoped he could see just how much you loved him too.

Time away from Jake was always hard on both of you, whether you were separated for a day of work or for weeks or months of deployment and assignments. Jake especially found it hard to sleep without you playing with his hair.

Naturally, that meant that he shuddered in your arms when you hugged him and your hand found its way into his hair. You just smiled into his shoulder and held him tighter. Neither of you mentioned any damp patches that may or may not have appeared on your shirts.

Late in the evening, in the privacy of your own bed, you lay on your side, facing each other. His arms were warm and secure around you, holding you to his chest. You tilted your head closer to him, tracing the side of his face. 

You could see him fighting to keep his eyes open as he watched you. On one of the rare occasions he had gotten to call you, he’d mentioned he had trouble falling asleep, so it made you happy to see him relaxing so quickly.  It also was difficult not to smile just from having him in your bed again. Your hand traced higher up his face, up to brush back some of his hair.

“Marry me?” The words slipped out of him, barely a whisper.

Stunned, your mouth opened and shut a few times soundlessly before you finally responded. “Do you mean that?” You were almost afraid it was just a side effect of post-deployment exhaustion.

“I mean it, sweets,” he huffed a soft laugh, curling his arm tighter around you. “I have a ring, and I’m still going to officially propose later. But I can’t wait any longer to know, so what would you say?”

“Yes.” The answer to his question was so undeniably simple. You loved him so much that there was no other answer. “Yes, Jake. Yes!”

His lips were on yours in a heartbeat in an excited, albeit sleepy, kiss. You tasted his smile, tangled your fingers in his hair, and pulled him closer. You kissed lazily, slowly processing everything that had just happened.

He murmured your name when you pulled apart at last. “I have no idea what I did to deserve you.”

“You’re pretty special, Seresin,” you replied softly, nudging his nose with your own.

His thumb rubbed slow circles on your hip, and you could feel by the rhythm that he was starting to fall asleep again. “Love you,” he mumbled, fading fast.

You played with his hair a little longer, just until his breathing evened out, then shifted to set your arm around his middle. Your final thought as you drifted off was that you couldn’t wait to spend forever with your sweet sunshine of a man.

Top Gun Taglist:

Don’t imagine that you’re reading a book on the couch, laying there on your stomach just having a relaxing afternoon.

Don’t imagine that Jake wanders in carrying your favorite mug filled with coffee prepared just the way you like it.

Don’t imagine that he sets the mug down on the coffee table before crawling on top of you, nestling his head into the crook of your neck, leaving trails of kisses up to your jaw and cheek.

“Whatcha reading, angel?” Jake would coo in your ear.

Don’t imagine how this would tickle causing you to giggle, and how Jake would smile with those beautiful teeth of his at the sound of your laugh.

“Oh nothing, just one of my very normal dark romance books,” you’d tease.

Don’t imagine how he’d cup your cheek and turn your face toward him to plant the sweetest and most passionate kiss on your lips.

Don’t imagine getting lost in it as he deepens the kiss, exploring your mouth further with his tongue.

“Mmm… Interesting. Any good inspiration?” he’d say breaking the kiss and smirking as you now feel him grow hard against your ass.

“I can think of a few things I’d like to try, but you know what I need right now instead?” You’d ask innocently, giving him your sweetest doe eyes.

Don’t imagine Jake running his hands through your hair, massaging your scalp as he says, “Tell me, baby. What do you need from me?”

“Want you to make love to me, Jakey. Slow and gentle. Please? Can you do that for me?” You beg.

Don’t imagine that Jake would huff out a soft laugh as he responds, “For you? I would do anything for you. Gonna make you feel so good you’ll think you died and went to heaven, angel.”

Don’t imagine how Jake would then gently flip you over and undress you both while kissing every inch of your exposed skin.

Don’t imagine how you’d sigh and whimper at the feeling, goosebumps rising all over.

Don’t imagine Jake on top of you as he makes love to you slow and deep, making sure you feel every inch of him.

Don’t imagine how you’d both moan into each other’s mouths, swallowing the sweet sounds of each other as he hurls your body closer and closer to the edge.

Don’t imagine how you’d both fall apart simultaneously, bodies tingling in complete and total euphoria.

Don’t imagine trying to catch your breath as you finally come down from that high, laying there silently as he holds you close. Bodies pressed against one another, his weight completely resting on you.

“That was perfect, Jake. Exactly what I wanted. Exactly what I needed. I love you so much.”