#jake hangman seresin smut

[sunlightmurdock]

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, that pretty fucking smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you get your bellybutton pierced?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did you say?”

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

“I was just kidding—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neither one of you will care in a few moments.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Arms up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, honey?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We don’t have to go any further—“

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

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

“You keep condoms here?” He breathes out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just looking has your mouth running dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

…

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven

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

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

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

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

top gun masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks so good. He looks so fucking good.

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

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

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

"Really? That quickly?"

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

Also, he's hot.

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

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

The car starts.

The fucking car starts.

He's actually managed it.

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

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

He chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

Then the door cracks open.

And there stands-

You.

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

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

"You", you let out, almost breathless.

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

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

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

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

So he's fucking frozen in spot, yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He fails miserably.

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

All around him, all the time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

No, he can't.

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

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

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

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

You can't.

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

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

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

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

You know he's most definitely attracted to you.

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

You can't.

He can't.

And yet neither of you doesn't.

...

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

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

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

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

And then twice.

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

Look right at him.

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

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

So he just sits there and stares at you instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let go of the shirt as your grin widens.

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

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

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

But it isn't.

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

You've already poured him the drink.

Not that he'd been planning to say no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

He shouldn't. He can't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take a long look at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, he fucking would. You were right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can't nod quickly enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks up then and raises his eyebrows.

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

Leans... not close enough.

Instead, he grabs the hem of your shirt.

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

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

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

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

He wants to burn this image into his memory forever.

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

Fuck.

You bite down on your lip.

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

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

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

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

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

That's when the movie stops.

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

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

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

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

Which is about the last thing you can take.

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

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

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

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

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

Your fingers catch on his waistband then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your breath catches, palms stilling against his thighs.

Fuck.

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

You don't. Of course not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

Which means it's his turn.

And he doesn't hesitate.

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

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

A moment too long.

Way too long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're close. So close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're really fucking unbelievable.

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

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

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

Your throat feels way too dry all of a sudden.

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

Because hell no, you won't forget this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sets you down on the couch and smiles.

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

Then there's silence.

Absolute silence.

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

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

For the first time.

Because you just slept with Jake Seresin.

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

Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit.

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

But you can't feel bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

And goddamn, you're ogling, alright.

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

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

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

Three heads turn to her simultaneously.

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

It hits you like a tidal wave.

Oh, shit. Oh, holy fucking shit.

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

"Oh, that-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

You choke on your breath.

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

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

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

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

[topgun-imagines]

His Little Girl

Requested: No

Summary: You knew that Jake would be the best father to your baby girl. He didn't hesitate to prove it.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Pregnancy, hospitals, & mentions of blood.

Pairings: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x wife!reader

Jake Seresin was an amazing father. You thought that this would be the case, but the past few days were nothing but proof. Your entire pregnancy, Jake had been right there by your side. With every craving, every bout of morning sickness, every time you needed to feel the weight of your growing baby lifted from your shoulders, Jake was there. The whole nine months, all the way to your labour, he was the perfect husband. Not once during your 22-hour labour did he leave your side. 

Regardless of his caring tendencies during your pregnancy, somehow, Jake was even more caring the second your baby girl was born. Around 4:30 in the morning, Aimee Rose Seresin was born, weighing 6 pounds 7 ounces and perfectly healthy. You and your husband couldn’t have been more happy. Early that morning, for only the third time since you had met Jake, you saw tears filling your husband's eyes. 

When the nurses took out your little girl to do blood tests, Jake immediately ran down to get you something to eat. Jake arrived only seconds before the nurses did. He helped to prop you up and sort out your meal before Aimee was passed over to him. You watched with unlimited adoration as your little girl snuggled into his bare chest. You finished what you could have easily considered the best meal of your life before relaxing back onto your pillows. Within seconds, your eyes were slipping shut and you were drifting off into a peaceful sleep. 

You woke up a few hours later to the same sight of your baby girl asleep on her daddy’s chest. A soft smile grew on your face at the sight of your sleeping husband. Luckily, Jake had set your phone beside you before Aimee was handed to him. You snapped a quick picture and set it as your lock screen. You had never been more in love than you were now. 

Mere seconds later, the nurse walked in to check up on you. Your husband woke up slowly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “How are you doing, dear?” The sweet elderly nurse questioned as she reviewed your vitals. After only a few minutes, you were left alone again with your family. 

Your husband was standing now, walking toward you while rocking your little girl softly. Not only did Jake hold your little girl like she was the most precious thing in the world, he looked at you as if you hung the moon and the stars. In that moment, you could easily see how much he loved you. His eyes held untamed adoration as he set your little girl on your chest. 

“I love you so, so much, honey.” He whispered to you gently as he leaned down. A chaste kiss was placed on your forehead. 

The soft moment between the two of you was often one that you returned to when Aimee woke up crying in the middle of the night. However, even in those times of frustration, you knew that your husband was beside you every step of the way. 

Thankfully, you only had to stay in the hospital a few days longer before you were allowed to go home. Those few days flew by in a breeze, Jake being a large help through the whole process. You knew the history that Jake had with his father, so you were more than proud of the fact that he was already such an amazing father. The fact made you smile softly, watching your husband love on your little girl once more. 

Unsurprisingly, the ‘hot dad walk’ that you had been looking forward to since you found out you were pregnant did not disappoint, far exceeding any expectations you could have had. The sight of Jake carrying your baby girl out in her car seat had you swooning for your husband all over again. You waddled behind him slowly, happy to watch him walk away. When you finally arrived at the car, Jake made sure to let you know that he knew exactly what you had been staring at the whole time. Your cheeks were rosy the entire ride home. You sat in the back seat with Aimee, watching her sleep soundly as Jake made the slow drive home. 

Every few minutes, Jake would check on the two of you. “How are my girls doin’?” he questioned, not taking his eyes off the road. Another smile lit up your face as her tiny hand wrapped around one of your fingers. 

“We’re doing perfect Jake. She’s perfect.” There was nothing but pure awe on your face. In that moment, Jake thought the same about you. You were the light of his life; absolutely perfect just the way you were. He chose not to say anything, smiling softly at the thought of his new family. 

A few minutes later, Jake was pulling into the driveway of your home. He hopped out and pulled your door open, helping you out before he grabbed your baby girl’s car seat. She was passed over to you as Jake collected the rest of your belongings from the back seat. 

You sucked in a soft breath, grasping your husband's hand as you brought your baby girl into the house for the first time. Aimee slept soundly in her car seat, unaware of the happiness building in your chest. Your family was home. 

Together, you and Jake brought her up to the cozy nursery. Jake had spent weeks putting it together, dragging Bradley and Bob in at various times to help him assemble the furniture. The sight of three large aviators bent over pieces of a crib in a pretty pink room made you giggle more than once. As Jake emptied the contents of the hospital bag onto the changing table, you set Aimee softly in her crib. One of the tips that the nurses gave you was that when the baby was sleeping, you should be sleeping. After the exhausting few days you’d had, you certainly weren’t one to disagree. 

Seeing that Aimee was peacefully asleep in her crib, you and Jake grabbed the baby monitor and headed down the hall toward your room. Your husband pushed the door open for you, chuckling quietly as you flopped onto the bed. You offered him a tired grin. 

Mirroring your smile, Jake set the monitor on the dresser and walked toward the bed. “Hey there, pretty girl,” There was a loving look in his eyes as he climbed onto the bed beside you. His fingers began to trace delicate patterns into the soft skin of your stomach. “How’s my beautiful wife doing?” 

Offering him another smile as your eyes fluttered closed. “I’m doing amazing Jake,” You whispered, “Thank you so much.” You squeezed his hand softly. Even though you didn’t directly say it, Jake knew exactly what you were thanking him for. You may have not been able to see it with your eyes closed, but the smile on his face showed exactly how much he loved you. He didn’t have to respond; you knew he would do anything for his girls. 

A/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open! I’ll start tagging people again once I start writing more <3

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Urban Cowboy - Jake Seresin x Reader

pairing: Jake Seresin x f! reader

warnings/content: smut, unprotected p in v, mildly mean!dom Jake, teasing, jealous Jake

word count: 3.2k

The sounds of some 80s pop song echoed throughout the Hard Deck, a cheap colourful strobe light flashed around the room, its rainbow coloured beams striking random bargoers as they began to dance along to whatever was playing. It was new idea your aunt had come up with - doing theme nights at the bar once a month as a way to freshen things up and breathe new life into the military bar scene. 

Since you moved here four months ago, you’d gotten familiar with the regulars - there was Bradley Bradshaw, a man far older than he looked, with a penchant for comandeering the piano if the bar needed livening up, Natasha Trace, who had a fiery personality and often kept the other guys in their place, especially when the beers were flowing and they started flirting with unsuspecting patrons, Robert Floyd, the shy backseater who was always polite, tipped well and seemed to be the permanent designated driver on nights out, Reuben Fitch, who stood about a foot taller than you, and always had a witty comeback on hand, just in case, Mickey Garcia, who was sweet, but could talk anyone’s ear off about Star Trek, and Javy Machado, resident score keeper and pool table champion. 

Leading the group, was your Aunt Penny’s boyfriend, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell. He often would come in, finding a table at the back of the room for his squad before abandoning them to spend the evening at the bar, chatting your aunt up and offering up any excuse to come behind the bar and sneak a hand to her hip or steal a squeeze of her rear. It was sweet the way your aunt and Pete were loved up, like a couple of teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. 

This afternoon, Pete came in at four o’clock sharp, just as he promised to help set up. As he hung a couple of decorations you and your aunt had managed to find online, he turned to you and smiled, watching as you prepped the theme night’s cocktail menu.

“I forgot to tell you, another one of my guys is going to be here tonight. He’s been off training at a different base for the last few months, just landed in this morning. You’ll like him. He’s a firecracker.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying he’s a cocky asshole?”

“I wouldn’t say asshole. He’s just very…confident. I think you’ll like him though.”

“Are you talking about Jake?” Penny piped up as she looked at Pete, watching as he climbed up the step ladder to hang another decoration from the ceiling.

“Yeah, don’t you think they’d hit it off?”

“I think she might hit him.”

“What? No way. Jake’s not that bad.”

Penny scoffed and shook her head, laughing. Holding her hands up in surrender, she walked away, retreating back to the bar to begin making sure all the key ingredients to your drink menu were where they needed to be. You continued to stuff the evening’s special menus into their plastic protective sleeves, shaking your head at Pete’s attempts to try and set you up with someone from his squad. It wasn’t the first time, you’d been on a date with Bradley once before, but found the age gap was too great between the two of you, with Bradley in complete agreement that you were much better suited as friends than lovers, and on a date with Reuben, who, despite efforts between the two of you, there was no chemistry shared there. 

As five o’clock approached, you hurried into the back stockroom to change into your themed outfit for the night, pulling your hair out of the velcro rollers that Penny had helped you wrap your hair up into, creating the perfect 80s voluminous curl that would make even Christie Brinkley jealous. Your tight fitting Daisy Duke style shorts accentuated your curves, hugging your thighs and hips in all the right places, your crisp white button down shirt tied just under your bra, showing off your tanned, soft midsection. A pair of mid-sized silver hoop earrings hung from your earlobes to complete the look. Your aunt’s stash of Aqua-Net hairspray was all you needed to finish it off, stepping out the back door to shake your curls out and spray them with enough hairspray to ensure they wouldn’t budge for the night. 

You reentered the bar to find Pete’s friends piling in, the other regular patrons all trickling in and getting comfortable as they came through, turning the bar into a sea of cheesy fake mustaches and 80s style Hawaiian shirts, brightly coloured polos and coordinating Bermuda shorts, wigs and legwarmers. The evening was quickly livening up, and you got to work behind the bar with your aunt, pulling pints and mixing drinks, firing off orders left right and center as the bar filled with partygoers. 

An hour into the night, Bradley approached the bar, his aviator sunglasses perched atop his chocolate coloured curls, his loud, brightly coloured Hawaiian print shirt buttoned just enough to allow a few sparing curls of chest hair to peek out from the top. He leaned against the bar, smiling at you, his mustache neatly combed to closer resemble a style from the 80s. If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was trying to emulate Tom Selleck. You’d seen pictures of Bradley’s dad and Pete from back in the 80s, and recognized the shirt anywhere. It was clear Bradley was dressed identically to his father, and you had to admire the dedication he had to the theme. 

“What can I get you, Bradshaw?”

“Hi dollface, I’ll take a Budweiser. And a chance to take you for a spin later?”

“We’ve done this before, Bradley,” you laughed as you cracked the top off the beer bottle and slid it across the counter to him. Bradley shook his head as he sipped the frothy liquid, grinning as he set the bottle down on the counter.

“I didn’t mean you. I’m practicing. I can’t be dressed like this and not use some kind of weird 80s shit to impress a girl, right? I’m just…using you for practice. Did it work?”

“Bradley, why don’t you, I don’t know, just, be yourself?” 

“Because tonight I’m not myself. I’m some single 39 year old in the 80s trying to get a date, apparently.”

“Well then, gag me with a spoon, that was gnarly. Try a different line. One that doesn’t begin with “dollface”?”

“Got it, thanks!”

You watched as Bradley sauntered away to go try his luck with a pretty blonde over by the jukebox. You smirked to yourself as you heard Bradley start singing along to Madonna, carrying the tune with an impressive baritone that you weren’t expecting. You knew he could sing, but singing Madonna was a whole new side to him. Turning your back for a moment, you began fixing a drink for yourself, mixing together the ingredients for a Shirley Temple. You looked up to see a tall, broad-shouldered blonde man approach the bar counter, his hair slicked back, and a blonde mustache that made poor Bradley’s look unimpressive rested on his upper lip. The most stunning pair of bright green eyes looked at you, and a set of perfectly straight, whitened teeth fresh out of a Colgate commercial flashed a smile at you.

“Hi Darlin’, I’ll take whatever’s on tap.”

“Sure thing,” You nodded, trying hard not to audibly gulp at the adonis of a man standing in front of you. 

“Are you new ‘round here?” he drawled, “I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”

“Uh, within the last four months, yeah.” you nodded as you finished pulling a pint of draught for him, the frothy head of the beer perfectly resting in the glass. 

“Oh! That’ll explain it. Lieutenant Jake Seresin, at your service, m’am.” He winked, and you felt yourself melt a little at the sight of this human embodiment of a Ken doll flirting with you. 

“You’re Jake?”

“Depends who’s askin’, Honey.” His accent was thick and heavy, something straight out of those reruns of The Andy Griffiths Show that your mom made you watch when you were a child.

“I’m Penny’s niece,” you nodded, giving him your name and laughing softly as your cheeks blushed, “I moved down here to help her out with things around here while I try to figure some life things out.”

“I see,” he smirked, sipping his beer, the foam brushing against his mustache as he set the glass down. “And does that list of things you’re figuring out include finding a strong, charming, handsome Southern boy?”

“It might, do you know any?” You quipped, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your own drink, pretending to feign disinterest in the handsome stranger before you.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

“That so, hun? Who? Do I know him?”

“Not yet, but I think he sure would like to know you, Darlin’.”

You shook your head, your curls bouncing as you started to laugh, unable to control yourself. Jake was as bold as he was handsome, and you were suddenly realizing what Pete was referring to when he said that Jake was confident. He practically exuded a cocksure confidence from every pore in his body. And while that would normally repulse you and send you heading for the hills, with Jake, it felt different. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to him, his magnetic charms and graces pulling you in, and your inhibitions wearing down. However, you also knew how to deal with men like this - he was in need of an ego check, and you were just the person for the job. 

“Is that right? Well, you tell your little Southern-fried wannabe cowboy of a friend that if he’s interested, he’s going to have to stick around the bar all night. I promised Aunt Penny I’d help her make sure this night went smoothly, and I don’t need a knockoff Dukes of Hazzard cast member distracting me.” 

“Wannabe cowboy?” Jake gasped in feigned offence, clutching his chest dramatically as he slipped into an even thicker accent than earlier, “Now Darlin’, I don’t know if you know this, but you’re breakin’ my heart over here. One thing I ain’t is a wannabe cowboy. You know, I used to ride in rodeos as a kid? Was one of the best there was for under 15 year olds, ‘til I decided to join the Navy instead.”

“Oh, so you’re like, a real cowboy then,” you teased, your voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“S’pose you could say that. Only one real way to find out, ain’t there?”

“Take you to a farm and watch you wrangle cattle on horseback?” you retorted sarcastically.

“You’re funny, I like that.”

“I bet you do.” 

Jake leaned in across the bar, a smirk forming on his lips as he looked at you, his bright green eyes fixated on your lips as you spoke. His long eyelashes fluttered at you as he eyed you up, practically undressing you with his imagination. You grinned as you gestured to the sign behind you, reading that if you disrespect a lady, you owe everyone a round. 

“Watch it, Lieutenant. If you’re not careful, I’ll go ring that bell and you’ll learn a very expensive lesson.”

“Oh, Darlin’, I can guarantee, I ain’t gonna learn anything from it. I’m just dumb enough to do it again. Can’t help myself around a pretty girl like yourself.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you laughed at his relentless attempt. You knew the only reason he persisted was because you were teasing him, but at the same time, you didn’t mind the attention he was giving you. He wasn’t as tall as Bradley, or as broad shouldered, but he was built like a linebacker, with a solid frame and the accent alone was enough to drive you crazy.

It was almost 11 when Jake stopped you again, this time, outside of the stockroom when you’d disappeared back there for more maraschino cherries and pineapple juice. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, causing his pastel-coloured polo shirt to bulge around his biceps. His lips curled up in that annoyingly perfect smile once again as he stood in your path.

“Hey, Honey, need a hand with that?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you shrugged it off, shaking your head as you smirked at him, “You often follow girls into storage rooms?”

“Only the ones worth following.”

“Wow, Lieutenant, with a response like that, it’s a wonder you don’t have a trail of broken hearts following you around.”

“What is your issue, anyway? You got a thing against blondes? Pilots?”

“Please,” you smirked, shaking your head, “I went on a date with Rooster. He’s a pilot.”

“Is it ‘cause I’m from Texas?”

“No, it’s because you’re probably the most arrogant prick I’ve ever had the displeasure of coming across, actually. God, it’s like you think all you have to do is flash that stupid handsome smile and I’ll throw myself at you.”

Jake’s face fell slightly as he raised an eyebrow at you. You could tell he wasn’t used to having a girl put him in his place like this, but his crestfallen gaze was quickly replaced by that shit-eating grin he seemed to never go without sporting. 

“Honey, you’re real pretty when you get mean like that.”

“You’re impossible,” you sighed in exasperation.

“But you love it, don’t you?” 

Jake closed the gap between the two of you as he spoke, taking a couple steps closer to you. You bit your lip as you hesitated, thinking about the consequences that might follow if you acted on your desires. 

Fuck it. 

Your hands gripped the fabric of his polo shirt, pulling him down to your height as you crashed your lips into his passionately. You kissed a slow, hot trail up to his ear, a breathy moan escaping your lips as he put his hands on your hips to bring you in as close as possible, his body heat radiating on to you. 

“You gonna show me just how good you are, Cowboy?”

“Yes, m’am. I reckon I could show you a better time than any other man in here.”

Jake’s hand slipped down your curves, reaching around to cup your ass cheeks as he hoisted you up effortlessly, wrapping your legs around your waist. You quickly discarded the cherries and juice that were in your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. Jake’s lips worked their way along your neck, wet, fervent kisses that made your body squirm with pleasure, your arousal growing and burning in your stomach with each second. 

“Back door?” He murmured against your neck, his hands keeping a firm hold of your ass.

“Two steps behind me, to the left,” you panted, nodding your head as he sucked on your skin. 

It was unseasonably warm for May, the humidity hanging in the air as you left the air conditioned building. Jake pushed you up against the wall, using it as leverage as he quickly reached down to undo your shorts and wiggled them out of the way. He ran two of his thick fingers along the outside of your lace underwear, stroking the dampened fabric as he smirked to himself.

��Someone’s eager, aren’t ya, Darlin’?”

“Just shut up and fuck me, ok?”

“Now, that any way to ask for it?”

A wicked grin appeared on his face as he slipped his fingers beneath the fabric, stroking at your clit with a feather light touch, just enough to make you whine for more. 

“Jake, I swear to fuck, if you don’t take me right now.”

“Shhh, Sugar, don’t want anyone to hear, do ya? Unless you get off on getting caught,” He purred as he coaxed his fingertips inside of your dripping entrance, pumping them into you with precision.

You tossed your head backwards as Jake thrusted his fingers further into you, each movement harder and faster than before. The determined look in his eye alone was almost enough to send you over the edge. This man was hell-bent on making you orgasm, and he was on the right track to get you there within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck, s-so close, Jake,” you keened, your fingers gripping his thick blonde hair as he brought you to your climax.

“That’s it, Sugar. Look at you, you’re a mess and I ain’t even started on you yet.”

“J-Jake, please,” you whimpered, coming undone as he fucked his fingers into you at a breakneck pace.

“Speak up, sweetheart, can’t hear ya.”

Your head started to spin as he pulled his fingers out of you, causing you to whine at the loss of contact. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, he slammed his hips forwards, shoving his thick cock inside of you, causing you to cry out in ecstasy at the sudden fullness. Trying to be quiet, you secretly thanked your lucky stars that the sounds of Your Love by The Outfield blared throughout the club. Just as the chorus picked up, Jake rocked his hips forwards again, fucking himself into you with enough force to make you feel as though he might blow your back out right then and there.

“That’s it, Sugar, takin’ me so well,” Jake smirked, “What was that you said about bein’ a wannabe cowboy? Bet those other boys can’t fuck you like this, now can they?”

You were practically rendered speechless by Jake’s precise, rhythmic thrusts into your cunt, his masculine grunting and teasing proving enough to throw you back over the edge once again. Your legs began to shake and shudder while he bucked his hips up into you, his eyes full of lust and hunger as he brought you to your second orgasm of the night. Your walls clenched around him tightly, eliciting a low, pornographic moan out of Jake. 

Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging on it as you threw your head back, you screamed out his name, louder than you intended. You lost your ability to hold yourself together as Jake’s thrusts became sloppier, his own orgasm following close behind yours. 

“Fuck, am I good?” He groaned, his eyes pleading for permission.

“On the pill, you’re good,” you panted, nodding quickly as Jake let himself go inside of you, your name falling from his lips like a sacred prayer as he repeated it over and over, praising you.

“Now, how ‘bout letting a strong, handsome Southern boy take you out on a date so he don’t feel so bad about fucking you until you can’t walk a couple hours after meetin’ ya?” He grinned as he readjusted himself and pulled his clothes back up. 

“I think I can fit you into my schedule, on one condition.”

“Mhmm? What’s that?”

“Next time, you come wearing a cowboy hat.”

“Deal, Sugar, I’ll even let you wear it.” 

[theharddeck]

start the new year right (jake seresin x f!reader)

pairing: jake hangman seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: what could be worse than a delayed flight with lost luggage? driving back to san diego with your nemesis. and what could be worse than that? the car breaking down in the middle of the night, on new years eve. and of course, the motel couldn't have a 2BR room available...

word count: 8.2k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: explicit PiV sex, oral sex (f!receiving), bc of who i am as a person overstimulation, not the BEST communication/consent, but everything is consensual! it's just implied; normally i'm better about explicitly asking and confirming

A/N: happy new year, friends! what would my year be, if not ending with me sitting down with a stanley of chamomile and writing more than i've written the whole previous month? hope this new year is gentle to y'all.

Natasha: Hey girl! Just got an alert that your transfer flight was delayed? Are you good?

You: ‘good’ as in ‘safe’, ya

You: ‘good’ as in ‘en route’, not so much. They overbooked the flight and the next one they have available is Wednesday morning

Natasha: nooooooo

You: At least my luggage is on its way to SAN… I’m considering renting a car and just making the drive from Vegas myself

Natasha: I love you and I trust you

Natasha: but an overnight drive by yourself after an already-long day is not the move

You: ugh I know, but i don’t know what else to do

Natasha: …mkay i have a solution but it’s not the one you want

You: let’s have it

Natasha: jake’s flight also rerouted through LAS

You: absolutely not

Nat: you didn’t even hear the actual plan!!

You: if it involves me and hangman, the answer is no

Natasha: it’s just a five hour drive, you can be adults/play nice with each other for five hours

You: when has Hangman ever been an adult about anything

Natasha: fair point

Natasha: but he is also currently texting me saying he’s stranded

Natasha: you know one-way car rentals are stupid expensive

Natasha: and he likes to drive so maybe you could sleep on the way

You: stop being logical

Natasha: i do not want to get a call from the nevada state police when you fall asleep behind the wheel on New Years Eve in the middle of the Mojave

You: good, add a guilt trip to the mix

Natasha: is it working

Me: …

You: it’s working

Natasha: (Ryan Gosling!Ken gif: SUBLIME!) 

You: lol

You: ugh okay text me his number

Natasha: can’t believe that after 8 months stationed at the same base you don’t have his number

Natasha: mkay just sent

Natasha: you have to promise not to kill each other

// 

Three hours later, you were really glad you hadn’t made any promises to Nat that you couldn’t keep. 

Because not only had Jake insisted on renting a truck (“I need the legroom!”), and that you didn’t need to stop in Barstow for gas (“trust me, sugar, I’m an Eagle Scout–I know we can make it to east LA”), the gas-guzzling monstrosity had fizzled out somewhere between exits along the 15.

Now the hood was smoking, there was no way you were getting your security deposit back, and you were just as stranded as you’d been when you first texted Natasha from the airport. 

Only now you were in the middle of the desert, and your phone was almost dead.

Four hours later, you had walked three miles back to the last exit and were checking into a truly shady motel, straight up refusing to talk to Jake because somehow, incomprehensibly, the only room available was one with one (1) king bed. 

Four and a half hours later, you were dripping wet, trying not to shiver because the shower you took to warm yourself up had backfired, since the motel towels were basically handkerchiefs and your wet skin made the room seem extra cold. You hadn’t wanted to wear your airport clothes to bed, but since your luggage was already in San Diego, that left you with just a cropped tee and boyshorts. 

“You okay in there?”

You glared at your reflection in the foggy mirror, since Jake was on the other side of the door.

The audacity of him.

When you’d first met Jake “Hangman” Seresin, you’d been determined to endear yourself to him.

He was a couple years older than you, and pretty close to infamous after that stunt he pulled in eastern Europe a few years ago. He was ruthless and reckless and good enough to get away with both, and you’d hoped that if you befriended him, he could teach you a thing or two during your own time at Top Gun. 

And he was ridiculously beautiful, which maybe – maybe – had your admiration veering slightly into crush territory. But you’d locked that down, determined to view him platonically, and not let that get in the way of any instruction he could give. 

Of course, the first words out of his mouth had been “Honey, you gotta know there’s easier ways to get your MRS degree than to become a naval aviator.”

Your crush and respect had evaporated on the North Island breeze, and it’d been downhill from there.  

You had no idea why, but he had been openly antagonistic at any given moment since then — doubting your competence but disguising it as care for your safety, and tagging a misogynistic “sweetheart” at the end of every condescending sentence. You’d ignored him as much as you could, hoping he’d get that he wasn’t in Dallas anymore, and that shit didn’t fly with you, but that had only egged him on. 

But now you were exhausted, cold, stranded in the middle of the desert, and practically naked to boot, and he had the gall to act like he cared if you lived or died. 

“I’m fine, Hangman,” you said, swinging open the bathroom door and beelining for the bed, hoping you could get to it fast enough that Jake wouldn’t make a comment.

Or before your tits froze off, at least. 

You didn’t look over at him as you dove under the covers, trying your hardest not to think about the last time these sheets had been washed, much less bleached.

Of course, the comforter was tucked into the foot of the bed, and you wrestled with it for a few moments before giving up, and hauling the topsheet up over your body. It was paper thin, but it was a semblance of covering, and you lay stock-still, closing your eyes and hoping sleep would magically deliver you away from this situation. 

A moment later, the bathroom door opened and shut again. 

You could hear the sounds of Jake brushing his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste you had bought from the “concierge” in the lobby (a relic of a man who looked like he did Civil War reenactments for fun, and seemed highly amused by your outrage at the available accommodations). 

You would’ve passed the time on your phone, but the last of your battery had given up the ghost while you were in the shower. 

A minute or two passed, and the bathroom door opened and closed. From behind your closed eyelids, you could hear Jake shuffle over to the lightswitch, and then he stopped. 

You waited. 

He didn’t move. 

“What do you need, Seresin?” you asked, tersely. 

“Are you cold?” 

Your eyes popped open, wincing at the brightness of the lights, still overhead. A quick glance down at your body made your skin heat – your tee was skin tight, and the thin topsheet did little to cover you; you crossed your arms over your chest, hiding your pebbled nipples, continuing to stare at the ceiling and avoid eye contact with Jake. 

“You could turn off the lights,” you muttered. 

Technically, the cold wasn’t his fault. 

But it was his stubbornness that got you here, so that had to count for something. 

“I was just asking–” Jake started, and you interrupted him.

“It’s the desert in December,” you snapped, “yet, for some reason, this motel has the AC on; of course I’m cold.”

As if on cue, the machine in the windowsill rumbled to life. 

You closed your eyes. “Please, just turn off the light.”

The light switch flicked off, and if it were anyone else, you’d have appreciated the immediacy of the response.

But it was Jake, and he didn’t merit any kind of gratitude, so you didn’t say ‘thank you’.

Silence stretched. 

You heard a rustling, and a moment later, you felt something land on your upper body. You flinched, pulling the material away from you on instinct, and identifying it by touch as Jake’s sweatshirt. 

You opened your eyes, peering through the shadows of the room. The curtains were thin (you were sensing a theme here), letting in lights from outdoors, and you found Jake still standing by the door. He was digging through his backpack, clad in a white tank and boxer shorts, apparently also not wanting to wear airport clothes to sleep, but that didn’t explain why he had chucked his sweatshirt at you. 

“What is this?” you asked.

He looked up, shrugged slightly, and went back to rifling through his bag. “I run warm.”

You pursed your lips. “Jake, I–”

“I had a jacket on over it at the airport, okay? Promise, it’s not dirty.”

That hadn’t been what you were going to ask, but you paused all the same. 

You appreciated that he was reassuring you, and you did remember that he’d been in a jean jacket at the airport. You’d noticed it against your better judgment, thinking he looked like an A-List actor as he walked through the airport towards you, all broad shoulders and smiles, like you were friends. 

“Can I have a pillow?” His question interrupted your recollection, and you frowned in his direction. 

You were clearly on half of the bed, Jake could see which pillows were for him to use. Did he expect you not to have one?

You pointed to the pillow you  weren’t using, confused, and he laughed quietly. 

It wasn’t a sound you heard much from him.

Normally Jake laughed like he was proud of himself, reclining in the golden light of the world around him, blessing you all with his presence. This was a different sound, less pretentious, somehow warmer. 

“Yes, I can see it,” he said, his voice still amused. “But I need it over here, for the couch.”

You blinked.

The couch was maybe three feet long, an atrociously patterned aberration that you’d tossed your carryon onto, and not looked twice at. Jake didn’t explain anything further, but there were still only two pillows on the bed, and you couldn’t understand why he seemed to think you didn’t need more context for why he wanted to decorate the couch with one of them. 

“Why?” you asked. 

Again, that quiet chuckle. 

“Because, sweetheart,” he said, and you bristled on instinct, “that’s where I’m sleeping.”

You couldn’t have heard that right. 

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” you said.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Jake said, stubbornly. 

“That was never up for debate,” you snorted. “Jake, we’re adults. We can share the bed. You’re not going to fit on the couch.”

“I’m an Eagle Scout,” he grumbled. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“Yes, loyal, brave, clean, etc, I’m sure,” you said. “But I’m not sure how helpful you’re going to be tomorrow, when you can’t drive that monstrosity of a truck due to your back spasming from being rolled up on that couch all night.”

You watched through the shadows as Jake stubbornly tried to wedge himself sideways on the couch. Sure enough, his knees were practically bent up to his navel, and even through the darkness, you could see the furrow in his brow. 

“You could drive it,” he said, too obstinate to accept defeat.

“I will not,” you returned, “drive a vehicle that ostentatious.”  

“Says the pilot,” he grumbled.

“Naval aviator,” you shot back. “Jake, it’s an enormous bed. Get over yourself, get into it, and the sooner you settle, the sooner it’ll be morning, and we can leave.”

He deliberated, the mulish man. 

But eventually he pushed himself off the couch, clambering across the room. The bed dipped as he slid into it, and reached down for the comforter, still wedged into the bottom of the bed. You tried not to be annoyed when he yanked it free easily. It was probably just momentum, or that you’d loosened it up for him. While he was rearranging the comforter, you pulled the sweatshirt over your head, and tried to be calm about the situation. 

His sweatshirt was somehow still warm. 

It smelled amazing, like cedar and fancy cologne.

And also sweat, which you tried damn hard to ignore.

It was cozy, and you snuggled into it, and a moment later, Jake settled. Thankfully, the bed was big enough that you didn’t have to touch each other, but that didn’t mean you could ignore that he was there. 

In bed. 

With you. 

You snorted, thinking how much of a dream this would’ve been to you eight months ago, before you met Jake, and he dashed your crush to pieces. 

“What?” Jake grumbled, and maybe it was the proximity, or maybe exhaustion from the day was setting in, because his voice sounded almost gentle. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “G’night.”

“Night,” Jake said. 

You rolled onto your side, pulling your feet up under you, and folding your hands under your face, so you didn’t have to touch your skin to the pillow. Of course, that brought the sleeve of the sweatshirt to just under your face, and you were surrounded by the delicious smell of it again. 

It distracted you for a moment. 

Just a moment. 

Then you had to acknowledge that, even with the sweatshirt and the newly-added comforter, your wet hair was no match for the chill of the room. Your legs felt exposed and the sheets felt like they were damp and wet, and you tried your best to ignore it, but soon you were shivering. 

You tried to be still, you did. 

But when you heard the bed shift as Jake turned towards you, you winced into the darkness, unsurprised. 

“Sweetheart…” he started, and you shook your head, refusing to look back over at him. 

“I’ll be fine, I just need to fall asleep.”

Jake let that statement hang for a moment, just long enough for your shivering to start up again. He cleared his throat. 

“Um,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he sounded nervous, “I meant what I said earlier. About running warm.”

This time, you did turn over, trying to read his expression in the shadowy darkness. He looked…open. Like he really was altruistically suggesting sharing body warmth, nothing malicious and none of his normal teasing. 

You were suspicious, but not enough so that you could ignore that it was a better idea than freezing yourself to sleep. 

“You sure?” you asked, and Jake grunted, which you figured was as good a response as any. Actually, it was pretty damn good, because if he sounded eager, you’d be creeped out, and if he was uncertain, you’d feel guilty. But being matter-of-fact about it gave you the courage to scoot across the bed. 

“How do we do this?” you asked, and Jake reached for you. It was an easy movement, natural, enough so that it surprised you when he hesitated before touching you. 

“Can I…?” he trailed off. 

“Sure,” you shrugged, hoping you sounded half as unaffected as he did. This was fine, this was normal. Just a guy who was SO obnoxious that it made you forget how hot he was, suddenly not being obnoxious, and basically punching you in the face with his hotness.   

His hand settled on the small of your back and damn it, he was warm. His touch was soft, gentle, almost nervous, and he pulled you closer to him. You realized you’d expected him to turn you over, press your back to his front so that you’d be spooned, but instead he just wrapped you in his arms. He reached around you to tuck the comforter between you and the mattress, insulating you with his warmth. 

Your head was in his chest, and with his arms bracketed around you, your breath heated up the space between his tank and your face. He’d even managed to slot his arm under your head, so your face still wasn’t on the pillow. 

Cuddling with someone new was usually awkward, a tangle of limbs and expectations, but with Jake, it wasn’t. It was…damn it. It was pretty close to perfect.

“Good?” he asked, and he sounded different, with your cheek on his bicep, and your nose practically pressed against his chest. It was like you could feel his voice, rumbling around you, somehow more comforting for the proximity. 

You nodded, not wanting to hear anything new on your voice if you tried to respond. 

Jake hummed. 

A moment later, you realized his thumb was moving. Nothing major, just a small movement between your shoulder blades, a reassuring stroke. It was a comforting motion, gentle, and it wasn’t long before his warmth and his touch lulled you into a sweet sleep. 

You startled awake to the sound of guns. 

Not guns, fireworks. 

Damn it, it was New Year’s Eve; how had you forgotten? 

Jake stirred too, a deep breath expanding his chest, and leading you to realize his head was resting on top of yours, his chin tucked on top of the crown on your head.

“Is that–” he mumbled and how dare he, honestly, how very dare he, because he sounded great. Fuck him, for that, frankly. 

The situation washed over you, half asleep and fully cognizant of how random it was. You didn’t mean to start, but soon you were laughing, your shoulders shaking. 

“You okay?” Jake asked, a thread of concern in his voice, and that didn’t help any. 

“Just the universe’s sense of humor,” you said. 

You didn’t know how, but you knew he was confused and you should’ve been worried about how you knew that, how you weren’t cold at all, how if you looked up, you’d know what a  sleep-mussed Jake Seresin looked like, but all you could think was that this was so, so stupid. 

You took a long breath, starting to explain. 

“I just can’t believe this is how I’m starting the next year of my life,” you laughed. “Like, I’m fine, right? I’m doing alright on a career path I love, I call San Diego home, I have great friends and I’m doing as good with my family as anyone could be. And where am I on New Year’s? Stranded in a motel off an exit that’s literally not even town, cold enough that a guy who hates me is cuddling me so I can be still enough for him to go to sleep, with a dead phone so none of my friends or family can wish me a happy new year, and I–”

“Wait,” Jake pulled back, and you frowned at the interruption, “why do you think I hate you?”

You stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jake said, having the gall to look confused.   

“Jake,” you said, disbelieving. “You’re literally constantly a jackass to me. You’re constantly undermining me, doubting or heckling. You throw in a – frankly overwhelming – amount of southern charm and expect that to distract from the fact that you’re being outrageously patronizing and—”

Jake kissed you.

You weren’t expecting it, and it was so sudden that it thoroughly cut off your train of thought. All you could do was comprehend fleeting sensations and emotions. Jake’s lips were soft, the pressure of them light and teasing against yours. His arms tightened around you, like he was steadying both of you. In the same way you’d sensed his confusion, now you sensed his apprehension, and an unfamiliar determination. 

Just as quickly, he pulled back. 

“I don’t–” his voice was rough, and he cleared his throat. “Christ, I don’t hate you.”

You licked your lips, annoyed that they had the audacity to tingle in response to him.

You wanted to ask what the hell that was. 

You wanted to ask why he was looking at you like that. 

You wanted to ask what that expression meant but more than anything, you wanted him to kiss you again. 

Your arms were curled up between the two of you, and it took so little effort to curl your fingers in the front of his tank and pull him to you. His mouth was on yours a breath later, and his hand was on your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you properly. 

Of course he was a good kisser. 

Fucking of course he was, he had to be, but it was one thing to know it in an agnostic kind of way, and another to feel his lips pressing into yours. You shivered when his tongue swept over your bottom lip and when you mirrored the motion, something in his chest rumbled, and Jake parted his lips for you. 

He tasted faintly of toothpaste, and he had some kind of chapstick on his lips that was sweet, and you couldn’t get enough of him. His arms were still around you and he was so warm, so broad, and you couldn’t help but press yourself against him. When your arms wound around his neck, Jake broke away from you. You could feel his chest rising and falling quickly, and his hands fell from your back to your waist, as if holding you in place. He turned his head slightly, kissing lazily at the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, to your jawline. 

“That’s not how I wanted to tell you,” he murmured against your skin, and this time when you shivered, you knew it wasn’t from the cold. 

“You still haven’t told me,” you managed, eyelashes fluttering at the teasing brush of his lips, while you tried to look at him.  

To your astonishment and delight, Hangman blushed. 

Sheepish wasn’t an expression you were used to on him, not unlike bashful, but you thought it suited him. He looked like he was gearing up to say something and, curious though you were, you didn’t want to get into that right now. It was late, you were still exhausted, and just a few moments ago, you’d thought he hated you. 

If his expression now was any indication, you and Jake had very different conceptions of flirting. 

“Look,” you said, before he could say whatever he was hyping himself up to say, “this is probably a lot more complicated than either of us were prepared for. So, it’s the New Year…we could start it how we want the year to go.”

Jake’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled softly, a sweet expression on his face. He turned his head to kiss the palm of the hand you had looped around his neck. 

“Cuddling,” he said, at the same time you announced, 

“Orgasms.”

You would never forget the expression on his face. 

Sweetness morphed into amazement, and then quickly into hunger. 

“I can pivot,” he said quickly, and you lifted your chin. 

“You sure?” you teased, “Don’t want to strongarm you into–”

Your sentence ended with a squeal when Jake turned quickly, flopping onto his back, and pulling you on top of him. Your knee was between his thighs and you couldn’t hold back your grin as you looked down at him. Just like with this kiss, he was letting you lead, but being so clear about what he wanted. 

And who were you, to decline?

Kissing him from on top of him felt different, felt amazing. 

You could appreciate how sturdy he was, and when you relaxed slightly, you found yourself straddling his thigh. You’d been a part of plenty of dogfight football scrimmages, and Jake was never one for longer board shorts; you knew exactly how strong his thighs were. But it was one thing to see them on display, and quite another to feel them flexing between your legs. 

One of Jake’s hands was inching under his sweatshirt that you wore, warm fingers spreading across your stomach as you moved over him. 

God, he felt so good, so few layers between his skin and your core, and the pressure of his thigh between your legs was so good. You kissed him again, tongues tangling and teeth clashing, as you ground against his leg. 

When you moved, you felt the hem of his boxers slide against your leg, and sue a girl, you were curious. You shifted slightly, moving your thigh higher, and when you rocked your hips, your thigh brushed against his cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake gritted as you moved against him, and you thought maybe you didn’t mind the petname, when he sounded like that. 

You braced yourself on the pillow behind him and moved again. 

It shouldn’t be this hot. 

But it was, he was, and you felt pleasure spooling through you, just from his leg between yours, and his gentle touch against your skin. How he reacted to you, how he moved under you, it was so good, like a promise. 

“Not gonna lie,” Jake said, his voice still rough, “I really like you in my sweatshirt.”

Your mouth fell open when he pushed his hips up to meet you. 

You both stifled a gasp at the motion, the sensation with so few layers between the two of you. Jake’s hands crept higher under your sweatshirt, almost tentative, and you leaned into his touch, encouraging. His hands cupped your breasts, and your head dipped to the side in relief. He made a sound of satisfaction, just enjoying their weight in his hand, then his wrists moved so his thumbs could brush over your nipples. He rolled them, and you felt it in your core, your thighs clenching. 

“Love you in my sweatshirt,” Jake repeated, sounding dazed, “but I wanna to see you without it.”

You leaned back immediately, pulling the sweatshirt over your head. 

You missed the warmth of it immediately, but Jake’s gaze was worth it. His expression bordered on reverence, and he actually licked his lips, looking up at you. You wiggled on his thigh, heat pulsing, needing something from him, your skin prickling under his gaze. 

Jake frowned, the lust in his eyes overtaken by concern. “Too cold?”

You certainly weren’t toasty, but you couldn’t say you cared.

“I would’ve thought you’d have a solution to keep me warm,” you teased, and Jake seemed to accept the challenge. 

The hands that had been on your breasts dropped to the back of your thighs, and a moment later he had pushed you back. You were on your back, feet in the air, and Jake turned you gently on the bed so you were resting on the pillows again. You settled in, expecting him to lower himself between your thighs, and were surprised when instead he reached back for the comforter. 

Maybe you had misunderstood, he didn’t actually want…

He pulled the comforter over his head, over your shoulders, and you blinked disbelieving at a Jake-shaped figure under the blanket, moving to the base of the bed, between your legs. 

You were fairly confident, but that was a lot to ask from someone on a first date, and this wasn’t even that, and you ducked under the comforter as well. 

“Jake, you don’t have to–” you protested, realizing belatedly that there was nowhere near enough light to be able to make meaningful eye contact. 

“You said orgasms, right?” Jake said, his voice full of a familiar smugness. 

He settled at the base of the bed, crouching, and through the darkness, you could tell he was looking in your direction. His hands were intentional on your legs, letting you know where he was, giving you time to tell him if you weren’t okay with something. 

If he was offering, you were beyond okay with this. 

“Right,” you said weakly. 

His hands trailed up your thigh, his warm touch light, and his fingers closed over the band over your boyshorts. You nodded, a sound he heard because your head rubbed against the comforter.  

He kissed your thigh. 

It was a feather light touch, a brush of his mouth against the sensitive skin, but it was so gentle that it reassured you. He kissed your other thigh, then higher, and one of his hands felt up to your stomach, and he pushed, an unsubtle prompt. You lay back against the mattress, nerves and desire warring within you as Jake kissed higher.

You felt a brush of his tongue when he reached the edge of your underwear and your breath caught. 

“Plural?” Jake asked, and it took you a minute to understand his question.  

His fingers pulled at the edge of your boyshorts, peeling them slowly down, his mouth pressing gentle kisses as he revealed more of your body. He was exploring by touch what he couldn’t see, so slow and perfect it was overwhelming. 

“There’s two of us,” you managed, back to his question. “Hence plural.”

Jake laughed, a soft exhale against your skin. He’d bared you to him, and you shifted, like you were seeking his touch. 

“I know this is new for us, sweetheart,” he mumbled, a kiss to your hipbone, then the opposite, “but that’s not how this is going to work.”

You bit your lip, nervous again.

You were new to this with him, and some guys thought oral sex was some kind of prerequisite – check the box, half ass it for thirty seconds, guarantee she’ll let you hit it – but something told you Jake would be different. 

You were panting, anticipation making you breathless. 

You whispered his name and it was like he was waiting for permission, because he leaned into you. His first kiss against your pussy was gentle, just as sweet as those kisses he’d trailed up your thighs. It was so sweet it made you squirm, and Jake chuckled, a sound you felt as his breath ghosted over you. He pulled back long enough to draw an audible breath, then his tongue licked over the whole of your cunt, a long, torturous swipe that had you trembling.  

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, muffled, and your hips bucked. “You’re already wet for me.”

You reached under the comforter, your hands tangling in his hair and Jake hummed his approval before following your prompting back to your pussy. He lapped at you, learning you, and when he trailed up to circle your clit with it, you couldn’t stop the cry that escaped you. 

“That right, honey?” he asked, sounding smug, and he circled your clit with his tongue. You felt a hand slip from your hip to your entrance, rubbing over you as his tongue played with your clit. He kissed you, teased you, and when he pushed a thick finger into you while his lips closed over your clit, you moaned. 

“Feels so good, Jake,” you cried, and you felt him shudder at your voice. 

You heard it too, how wrecked you sounded, and it was his fault. Your hips were pushing up into him, chasing the suction of his mouth, the pull of his fingers. He was only a knuckle or so into you, but his finger was so wide, thicker than your own, and you moaned at the unfamiliar intrusion. 

It was Jake between your legs, Jake’s wicked smile, sharp tongue, capable hands, Jake who was working you with his fingers and mouth. He felt so good, and your body felt like it was humming to a frequency he set. 

You trembled as he sheathed a finger in you, you moaned when he sucked your clit, and when his teeth brushed over your clit, the pleasure coursing through you snapped. Your fingers in his hair tightened, and Jake groaned when you pressed your pussy harder against his face. He groaned like he wanted it, like he craved that reaction, and you came hard.  

He coaxed you through it, gentle and steady as he’d been so far, and as you came down, you pulled slightly at his hair. 

“Jake, that was–” you gasped, and you felt him laugh again. 

“Honey, what part of ‘plural’ is so hard for you to understand?” he asked.

And he pushed another finger into you. 

Your back bowed off the mattress; you were so sensitive and it made everything Jake did to you feel so much more. 

His mouth traveled down to where his fingers were pressing into you, and he curled them into you. You heard an obscene slurping sound, and your eyes rolled back as you realized he was pulling your release out of you, tasting it from his own fingers. 

“Like honey from a honeycomb,” Jake mumbled, his voice thick, and you whimpered at how he sounded. 

A moment later, his lips closed over your clit again, and your head thrashed against the pillow. 

“Jake, I just–” you panted, but he sucked again and you broke off on a moan. “I can’t, I just – fuck, give me a second– oh, that feels so good.”

Jake either didn’t hear you or he wasn’t listening. 

He was following your body, the way your hips were pushing up into him, the way your cunt was clenching down on his fingers, and it was like he was drunk on the taste of you. He suckled on your clit, his tongue laving over you, stoking you higher again. He felt so good, and you were sure you were telling him, but you were fast losing confidence in your ability to form words. 

You lost track of time, there was just pleasure, and the heat from Jake, and the way he was working your body. 

“You gonna come for me again?” Jake coaxed, pulling back to blow a long stream of cool air over your clit. You flinched, you writhed, you would do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. “I think you can do it, honey, it was so pretty the first time. This pussy is so good, doing such a beautiful job coming for me, tasting delicious and I bet you can do it again…”

Your legs felt limp as he licked over you again, tasting where his fingers fed into you, pumping them and pulling pleasure out of you. His tongue flicked over your clit, a maddening pattern, and when his lips closed, he sucked hard. It was so strong, so unreal, and you shook as you came again. 

“Ah, there it is…That’s so good, sweetheart,” Jake soothed, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your pussy, and you certainly didn’t know which was hotter. 

He continued to stroke inside of you, his thick fingers pulling you through your orgasm, keeping you grounded, keeping your pleasure coming. 

You weren’t cold anymore. 

In fact, you were burning up, and Jake didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. The moment he felt coherency return to your posture, he dove back in. You genuinely didn’t think you could stand another orgasm from his mouth, and you let go of his hair – he wasn’t listening to you anyways – and flipped back the comforter. 

God damn, he was so hot. 

He looked up from between your thighs, the lower half of his face smeared with your arousal, and he fucking licked his lips, before smiling up at you. His hair was in complete disarray, and you could tell his whole upper body was flushed from overheating, and he looked so smug, so proud, and he had every right to be. 

“C’mere,” you asked, and it was enough. 

Grinning, Jake crawled up the bed, caging you with his arms again. 

He hesitated, unsure what you were okay with, but you kissed him hungrily. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you felt a sort of possessive pride that it’d chased away the cloying sweetness of his chapstick. 

Right now, Jake tasted like yours, and you were obsessed. 

When he realized he could, Jake returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. 

Your hands smoothed over his back, curling in the hem of his tank and pulling it over his shoulders. Jake wouldn’t separate from your lips to let you pull it over his head and you giggled as he kissed you through it, like an infinity scarf. You felt up his back, hands delighting in the contours of muscles that you’d only admired from a distance, before you caught yourself. 

He was so strong. 

Warm and toned and big, intoxicating to think of him over you. Finally, he ducked his head to chuck off the shirt, and the motion lowered his hips to yours. You both groaned at the brush of his cock between your thighs, and then Jake was kissing you with fresh urgency. You hadn’t seen him yet, though he’d had his face in your pussy, and you reached between the two of you. 

You felt him over his boxers, and Jake broke off the kiss at your touch, his head dropping to your shoulder. It was like he couldn’t contain himself, and his hips pushed into your touch. You explored the shape of him through the thin cotton, your own hips rocking into him on instinct. 

Fuck, he felt big. 

You felt a small bit of wetness near the fat head of him, and you moaned as your thumb rolled over the leaking precum, rubbing his sensitive head. 

“I have a – shit,” Jake broke off, his hips rutting into your touch, and your head fell back. “I have a condom in my wallet.”

“Of course you do,” you teased, and it would’ve been more effective if you didn’t sound so needy about it. 

You turned your head to press a kiss to his cheek, then scooted out of the bed. 

The room felt freezing outside of the bed, but it was refreshing, as you darted over to his backpack. You found his wallet, and the condom inside it, and when you got back to the bed, Jake had only moved to push himself up. He was kneeling in the middle of the bed, and he shifted as he pulled off his boxers. 

“Holy shit, Seresin,” you whispered, not even caring that your voice sounded reverent. 

His cock was beautiful, thick between his thighs, bouncing parallel to the bed. Jake gripped the base of it loosely, like he had to do something while he watched you watching him, and you crawled back to the bed, still staring, kneeling so your knees almost touched his. 

“Can I?” you asked, holding up the condom. “Please, sweetheart,” Jake said, his voice so gruff and gorgeous. You licked your lips and ripped the foil, but hesitated before you pulled it out. 

“I’m clean,” you told him, sitting back on your thighs. “Um, we should still use this, but I just wanted you to know.”

Jake caught your chin between  his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to him. He kissed you quickly, short and sweet, and there was something unexpected in his eyes when he pulled back. 

“Me too, sugar,” he said, his voice deep. “Thank you.”

You couldn't be sure what he was thanking you for, but you felt like you should be thanking him. For making sure you felt good, for thinking of a condom, for making you feel so cared for. So you tilted your head, reached between you to where he was loosely fisting himself, and replaced his hand with yours. 

You pulled your hand loosely over him, obsessed with the warm feel of him, how thick he was in your hand, how heavy. Jake’s hands hovered like he wasn’t sure where you put them, and they settled on your upper arms, like he needed you to keep his balance. 

It didn’t stop you from leaning down and guiding his tip towards your mouth. 

Jake groaned, a beautiful, strangled sound, and it was lost to you when you first tasted him. 

This wasn’t the proper angle for a proper blow job, and you wanted to feel him, but you were curious, and your tongue lapped at him. His skin was scalding hot, and a pearl of precum beaded at the end of his cock, like an invitation. You licked it into your mouth, moaning at the salty, rich taste of him. 

Jake’s hand fell to the back of your head, not pushing, but like he needed to steady himself. You licked over him, acquainting yourself with him, learning the veins and sensitive spots, knowing you’d want to come back to them later. Too soon, Jake’s hand tightened in your hair. 

You looked up at him, hoping he’d like the picture of you from this angle. His jaw clenched and his eyes fluttered shut, if that was any indication. 

“Need to be inside you,” he ground out, and opened his eyes. “That mouth is so sweet, honey, gonna make this be over too soon. I want to feel that pussy.”

God, you wanted that too. 

You pushed yourself back up, pulled the condom out, and rolled it over his thick length. His thighs were shaking, you noticed, and it filled you with something like tenderness. That he’d get you there twice, then let you play with him, then say “please”, like fucking you was a privilege. 

When your hand reached the base of his dick, condom secured, he surged forward to kiss you. You swayed on the bed, kneeling in the middle of it, his hands cupping your face, yours on his waist. Both pulling, both needing to be closer, and when Jake lowered you back down, you followed his prompting eagerly. 

He settled you back against the pillows, back how you’d been when he’d driven you to the stars with his tongue, but this time his handsome face was right over you. When he settled over you, you closed your eyes against the intensity of the moment. You were both fully naked, and it felt so heavenly to have so much of his skin pressed against yours. He was warm, strong, all around you, and you needed him in you too. 

You spread your legs, letting him rest deeper between your thighs, and whimpering when his hot cock brushed against your stomach, then down. 

“Don’t know how slow I can take this,” Jake said, like he expected you to have a problem with that. 

“I want to feel you,” you told him, honestly. “Please.”

Jake kissed you again, pulling back to press his forehead to yours as he guided his dick between your thighs. 

You’d had two orgasms. 

You’d had his fingers and his tongue loosen you, you were plenty lubricated, but when Jake’s cock pressed against your entrance, you realized it hadn’t been enough. 

“Holy shit, Jake,” you gasped, as his fat head pressed against your pussy, waiting for resistance to melt. 

“Relax, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, “you can do it…You’re doing so good, just a little bit of give, come on…”

You whimpered at the new endearment, but there was no way. You felt needy, cloying. You could fit him, you knew it, but it felt—there.

He eased in, just a breath, and you felt like sobbing. It was so good, so overwhelming, so fucking tight, and you needed the rest of him. 

“Jesus, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake said, he sounded choked, and you loved it. 

“More,” you whimpered. “Please, Jake, want to feel you…you’re so big, I need more, please, please.”

“Honey, you can’t say things like that–” Jake gritted, your words driving his hips forward. 

You could tell he was trying to go slow, but the feeling of him forcing his cock into you had your legs shaking. You wanted it, needed it, and if begging was the way to get it, begging you could do. 

“Want to feel your thick cock, Jake,” you whispered, and he shivered. He was bracing himself against the headboard, and you could feel his arms shaking as he fought to keep from driving into you. “You feel so good, need to feel you so deep…want to come on your cock, please, Jake…come on and fuck me.”

He groaned like he was in pain, as he pressed deeper into you. 

He was trying to go slow, trying to be gentle, but you wanted to be mindless, you wanted your whole being centered around the deep push of his cock. You wiggled your hips, and sighed as he sunk deeper.  

“Thank you,” you breathed, and his hips punched forward again. 

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you would’ve laughed, but you were too overwhelmed. 

This was what you wanted, this was what you knew he could give you. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to your breasts, squeezing and massaging your breasts as he sank into you. You turned your head to look up at him, and found him staring, slack jawed, down at you in awe. 

“You make me feel so good,” you coaxed him. “Please, Jake…fuck me.”

Jake growled, a sound that came from deep in his chest, and his hand fell between you to brush over your clit. 

You jolted at his touch, your hips opening impossibly wider, and a hotter, stronger arousal racing through you than the steady, heavy press of him. Your hips bucked up, and you tweaked your nipples, working yourself up onto his cock rather than pressing him into you. It took a couple more burning minutes, and you were both coated in sweat by the time he was seated in you. 

“Baby…” Jake breathed, his voice a dream and you had to resist the urge to purr. He was so warm, all around you, inside you, it felt like he was grounding you. 

Then he moved.

His first pump had your back arching, your knees jolting up, your eyes flying open. Fuck, how did he reach that part of you, how was there room, how were you–

Jake laughed, a deep, dark sound. 

“That's what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asked, and he moved again. You cried out, overwhelmed, perfect.

“This what you were begging for?” Jake grunted, between strokes, “This what you were asking so prettily for, and now you have me, and what’s that, baby, can’t find your words? What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong, not a damn thing, but you couldn’t summon the wherewithal to tell him. All you felt was pleasure, pounding and sweeping, full and as good as eternal. 

“This pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart,” Jake swore, his head lowering to kiss down your neck. He sucked at the skin there savagely, needing a distraction, and you clenched around him, when his lips closed over your pulse point. “Pulling me in, so tight and warm. You look so good around my cock, honey, you wouldn’t believe… Like a dream, like a fucking wet dream, but you’re here, stretched around me, taking me so good…”

You moaned as he found a rhythm.

The headboard was banging against the wall with the strength of his thrusts, and he pounded into you. There was so much he hadn’t said, so much he couldn’t say, but he pushed it into your body, swore it to you. He soothed it over your clit with his thumb, he promised it with his thick, heavy cock inside of you, and you felt yourself falling into it. 

“Please, Jake,” you managed, begging again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything other than take the harsh fucking he was giving you, and craving it, needing it. 

“What’d’ya need, honey,” Jake groaned. “You have me here, so fucking deep, never felt this good, this right—what do you need, baby, tell me, whatever you need.”

Had the room been dark? Surely it’d always been bright light, sparking, blinding. 

Pleasure was rolling over you, suffocating, live-giving and you shook your head, moaning with every thrust of Jake’s hips. The only words you could manage were his name, and please, and it seemed to spur Jake on further. His thumb pressed hard into your clit as his hips sped up, and you felt the wave inside you cresting. 

“You’re close, honey, I can feel it, can feel how hard this cunt wants to come. Are you gonna do it, baby? Milk this cock, make it even tighter around me, want to feel that, need to feel your pussy twitching around me, sugar, please come…”

Your orgasm shattered over you, blinding and perfect. Your throat felt hoarse from your moans, or your breathlessness, but everything heightened. You felt like you were breathing with Jake, felt every hitch and gasp and shudder as he coaxed you through it. You felt like you were suspended in space, like the only thing there was was Jake’s arms around you and his cock within you and you needed, you needed, him to come. 

“Come in me, baby,” you whispered, your voice watery. “Need to feel you, want to feel how you’d fuck me to fill me, please, Jake, it’ll feel so good.”

“Fuck,” Jake shouted hoarsely, his hips thrusting harshly into you. “Oh, sweetheart, you feel too good, you’re so tight around me… I need to come, need to feel– fuck –”

You could feel his thighs shaking, his back tensing, and you turned your head to kiss him as he came. He moaned into your mouth, his whole body jerking as he emptied into the condom. You felt how strong he came, felt how thoroughly it worked through him, and it filled you with pride and satisfaction as he collapsed over you. 

You knew he meant to push himself to your side, but you didn’t let him go. 

You were just as boneless. 

You both lay there, a sticky, sweaty, mess, panting. It was like a dream, a daydream crossed with a fantasy. You were warm, comforted, sated, and the room was still cheap, the motel was still sketchy, but you were suddenly quite alright with this start to the year.  

//

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[ddejavvu]

Jake and big boobed pregnant reader him coming home and she still in her night gown and him turning the corner and seeing a pile of clothes"sweet heart whats wrong " and her giving him a look that could kill"you know what happens when you are growing a child in everything grows. Boobs grow they are huge and senstive and THEY HURT and it your fault " and you keep throwing clothes in different piles "how is this my fault "

"You and your damn breeding kink "

"You werent complain that night"

You throw a shirt at him that you both know he desvere (if this is too long ignore this part) him coming up behind you and massaging them while you lay your head on his chest"why do they have to grow " mumbling

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Jake typically gets home in time for dinner, but tonight he'd been held past midnight. It means that he's expecting you asleep when he gets home, not sitting topless on the edge of the bed with your face in your hands.

"Woah," He drawls, steps faltering in the doorway of your bedroom, "Darlin', what's the matter? And- where's your shirt?"

The questions have the same answer, and you point lazily to a pile of clothes discarded on the floor.

"And why are the tops in a heap on the floor?" He still doesn't understand, but the convictive tone he'd used doesn't sit right with you, and your head snaps up, eyes ablaze.

"Oh, you wanna know why everything's such a mess? Why the floor is dirty? Why I'm half-naked?!"

"Yes," He says, even if he knows he shouldn't, "That- it would be nice to have answers to all of those."

"It's because of you," You hiss, standing - chest still bare - to stalk towards him, an accusatory finger pointed at his own chest, "You and your stupid penis!"

"Ah," He retreats until his back hits the door, but still you follow, jabbing your finger into his chest, "Um, darlin', do you need bigger shirts?"

"My boobs can't fit in anything!" You gush miserably, "My shirts, your shirts, sweatshirts, dresses, nothing! I couldn't jam 'em into a trash bag if I tried, Jake, a trash bag!"

"Okay," He soothes, grabbing your wrists before you get the idea to strangle him, "Okay. Alright, listen. Let's go shopping tomorrow," He offers, reaching for a blanket to drape over your shoulders, "You can wear one of my brother's sweatshirts, I snagged one from him before I left home and he's a bigger size than I am. 'Should fit. But in the meantime, uh, I'll put away the clothes," He bargains, a placating smile on his face, "Sound good?"

You can't be mad at his offer; he's done everything right. But you still want to be grumpy, so you break away from him grumbling, "You and your damn breeding kink."

He bites back a smirk, bending over with his back to you so that he can mumble to himself, "Weren't complaining 'bout being bred that night, darlin'."

Two things happen in quick succession: You launch a shirt at Jake's head, and land a sharp smack to his denim-clad ass. He deserves both.

[seresinsbabe]

Happy anniversary! Can I get Hangman for List 4 with number 44, “I saw you naked once.  And now I can’t stop thinking about it" please!

Thank you!! This started out as a blurb and it well...it's definitely not a blurb anymore.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+! MDNI! Awkward encounters, awkward Jake, mentions of alcohol, mentions of masturbation, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (be smart with your parts please!)

Ash's 1K Follower Celebration

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It had been a complete accident. Jake had been distracted by something stupid Rooster had said and instead of opening the bathroom door he opened your bedroom door.

There your naked form stood still glistening with water from the shower you'd just taken. A glob of white lotion in your hand that hovered just over your chest where you'd been getting ready to apply it. Droplets of water fell from your hair, running down until they'd hit your nipples. All peaked and perky from the air conditioning that kept the home at a comfortable temperature in the San Diego summer.

He'd stared way too long. Drinking in every inch of you before he realized what he was doing. His face heating up in embarrassment as he slammed the door shut and yelled and apology.

That was a month ago and he'd been unable to wipe you from his mind since.

Not that he wanted to.

But it would a little less painfully pitiful if he could.

The images of you writhing underneath him, screaming out his name, taking his cock as deep as you could. They kept him awake at night. He'd jerked off more in the past month than he had since he hit puberty.

For the first couple of weeks after it had happened he couldn't look at you. Now he could, until you looked at him and then he was immediately jerking his gaze away from you.

It actually hurt you. The way he was doing everything in his power to avoid looking at you.

Since it happened you'd been wracking your brain as to why Jake was being this way. At first you chalked it up to embarrassment. And that made sense. He'd walked in on Phoenix's roommate. Of course he'd be embarrassed, but you figured that the embarrassment would blow over. It was fucking Jake Seresin. You were surprised he was embarrassed in the first place. Now that the avoidance continued you started to wonder if it was because of how you looked when naked. Maybe he'd found you so abhorrent that he couldn't bear to look at you.

Whatever the reason you were bound and determined to find out. Tonight was the night.

When Nix had come home earlier that week, letting you know that Rooster had invited the both of you over for a barbecue and bonfire, you started hatching a plan.

It wasn't a complex plan by any means. The only steps to it included cornering Jake when he was alone and asking him straight up why he wouldn't look at you.

Your chance came when he got up, mentioning something about need to hit the head. You waited a minute after his departure and got up yourself. Stating you were going to mix up another drink in the kitchen. No one questioning the fact that you had a full drink in your hand.

The house was empty and just as you breached the door you heard the toilet flush. A bit of the whiskey and coke spilled on the counter as you set it down in a rush to catch Jake in the hallway.

He'd thought he'd done good all night. Avoiding looking at you and preventing a tent from forming in his jeans. If he looked at you his mind would wander. The memory of the smell of the pomegranate and vanilla lotion would invade his senses and he couldn't do that in front of everyone. They'd give him so much shit.

"Why the fuck won't you look at me?" Jake jumped a bit when he opened the door. The last thing he'd been expecting was you standing there, hands on your hips and foot tapping expectantly.

"Wha-I- what are you talkin' about?" He felt his throat constrict. He couldn't not look at you and he was trying to everything in his head to keep from thinking about you naked and covered in water.

A huff of air flared your nostrils and your arms moved from your hips to cross over your chest. Jake had to look away again for a second as the movement pushed your tits up, exposing them more than the flimsy sundress already was.

"Since you saw me naked! Am I that repulsive that you can't even look at me now?!"

Huh? His eyes snapped to yours. You thought that he thought you were repulsive?

A soft grin pulled at his mouth as he searched your eyes. "That's what you think?" Jake asked, taking steps towards you. "That I saw you naked and can't look at you because you're ugly?"

"Well yeah. Why else?" You pushed back, jutting your chin up as you met his eyes.

Jake let out a sarcastic chuckle, stepping towards you again until your back hit the wall. His arms came up, caging you in on either side. Your eyes flickered between the limbs, noting the way they flexed and how it made his veins more prominent.

"Sweets, I saw you naked once," he started, leering down at you with a look you couldn't quite place, "and now I can't stop thinking about it." Jake's mouth hovered just over yours. "I can't look at you because if I do all the things I want to do to you flood my brain." His voice was low and husky.

You swallowed hard, feeling a coil start to build in your belly. Jake Seresin wanted to fuck you. Jake Seresin couldn't look at you because he wanted to fuck you so badly. You.

"Then let your brain win."

You weren't sure where the sudden boldness came from. Maybe it was the coil in your belly tightening or with the intoxicating smell of his cologne. Sandalwood and cognac. Whatever it was you knew you wanted him and you knew you wanted him to act on what he wanted.

His eyes searched yours, the green orbs darkened with lust. When he found whatever it was he was looking for he captured your lips in a heated kiss.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and he lifted you up by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. With one hand and the wall he kept you up while his other hand blindly searched for a doorknob. He didn't care what room he fucked you in, he just knew he couldn't fuck you in Rooster's hallway.

It didn't take him long to find a doorknob and before you knew it you were naked and underneath him on a mattress. Whether it was Rooster's or a guests you didn't care.

"Oh fuck!" The expletive flew out of your mouth as your back arched. Jake had buried himself inside of you, stretching your walls deliciously.

It took him a few seconds to start thrusting. So many you almost started begging him to move. Each thrust had your walls molding around his cock, clenching and unclenching in a way that had him almost seeing stars.

"So-fuck-" he faltered in his words when he hit that spot in your cunt that had you squeezing him like a vice. "Gon'be the death f'me." He mumbled, his head falling into the crook of your neck.

The mewls falling from your mouth grew louder, nearing screams the closer he brought you to the edge. Neither of you thinking about the group of people outside.

"What's taking them so lo-" Coyote's question was cut short when they heard the sound of your scream. They all knew what it meant.

"Fucking finally!" Phoenix mumbled, tossing back the rest of her drink and then throwing the beer can in the fire.

"Ah shit...I think they're in my room." Rooster groaned and slumped further in his chair. "I just washed the sheets too!"

[withahappyrefrain]

For the prompts, how about number 7. I like it when you tell me what to do? I can just imagine Jake saying that to Venus 😏

Everyone say thank you to Helena for giving me a reason to write the Jeep Wrangler fucking fic! Want to read more about Jake and Venus? Click here!

"Get in the car."

The four words are music to Jake's eyes. It doesn't matter that it's been said in a hushed, demanding tone. In fact, that makes it all the more better.

He nods, quickly getting out a couple twenties from his wallet to give to the bartender. Venus grabs his free hand, leading him away from the bar, away from all those who were trying to flirt with him.

Jake didn't flirt back, he would never. And while she knew that, it didn't stop the green eyed monster from coming out.

But rather than yelling or throwing drinks, she had found a better way to deal with jealousy.

"Get in the back." Her breathing is ragged from kissing him, hands on his chest to press him against the car door.

"I like it when you tell me what to do," Jake smirks.

"I can tell by your raging boner," she remarks, her fingers unbuttoning the top three of his shirt, allowing the silver chain around his neck to glisten in the moonlight.

With anyone else, Jake would have been embarrassed. But with Venus, it just eggs him on. Over two years now and it's still mesmerizing the effect she has on him, her effortless ability to render him so quickly.

"What can I say V," he leans down to be at eye level with her, "You're fucking gorgeous."

She tries to fight back a smile, her eyes closed, fingers seemingly frozen on his shirt.

"Get in the car before I take you right here Seresin," She mutters, trying to sound demanding. It helps that she's brushing her raised left knee against his growing bulge.

"Anything for you Venus." He places a gentle kiss on her warm cheek before opening the door, following her orders quickly.

As soon as he sat down, she was all over him. Her amber eyes remained locked on his face as she lowered herself down into his lap.

"Oh fuck," Jake groaned upon feeling her bare, wet core grind against his denim covered crotch, "W-when did you take those off?"

"When that blonde was flirting with you," Venus said before sinking her teeth into his unmarked neck.

Fuck military regulations.

Jake's head tipped back, practically presenting himself for her, "God, she was trying so hard. Can't-fuck-can't hold a candle to you V."

A whimper leaves her kiss bitten lips, her hips rolling against his at a near frantic place.

"Need you Jake," she says against his skin. A constellation of bite marks and developing bruises now littered across his pale neck.

"I-I got ya V." One of his hands cupped the back of her neck, allowing him to crash his lips against hers. The other went down, underneath the hemline of her sundress, fingers searching.

A loud moan fell from her lips when his fingers found her soaked entrance, quickly thrusting inside her. It was fast and hard, desperate pants coming from both of them quickly filling up the Jeep Wrangler.

She places a hand against the cool glass to support her as she grinds down against his fingers, thighs shaking from pleasure.

"Fuck you're clenching me so hard. Don't know if I can get a third one in," Jake chuckles.

Her available hand wraps around the silver chain he has on, tugging on it. The pressure around his throat, the way it decreases the amount of oxygen he can take in, causes Jake's cock to throb.

"D-don't know if you'll be able to put your cock in me before coming," She grunts against his lips.

"Think you just want me r-real bad V." His voice is shaking, his cock aching for some kind of relief.

"Want to ride your cock and watch you fall apart underneath me." Her hands fly to his zipper, undoing it and the top button. Jake shimmies his hips, his pants and boxers down to his thighs.

He pulls out of her, using his slick-covered fingers as lubricant for his cock. It wasn't the same with his fingers than hers. He knew if he asked she would, but that took away time Jake could spend being inside her.

She lets out a sharp gasp when the thick head of his cock brushes against her entrance. Venus wishes she would get use to it by now, the last thing Jake needs is another ego boost. But god, he's so big and it feels so good to be filled by him again.

Once he's fully inside, he stills, waiting for her to speak, to tell him it was okay.

"Jake, I swear if you don't fucking move-"

There it was.

The sound of skin slapping against skin combined with the little ah-ah-ah's quickly fill up the car, the windows now foggy from their actions.

"How-shit-how do you feel so tight every time?" Jake is barely able to ask, his head buried in the crook of her neck.

Her fingers find his blonde hair, gripping the soft strands for purchase. A witty comeback dies on the tip of her tongue when his cock brushes against the spot that makes her see stars.

Her tight walls clamp down on his cock, causing Jake's eyes to roll to the back of his head. God he loves this, loves being consumed by her and only her. The idea of someone else was absurd. Venus knew this, Jake had make it abundantly clear.

But damn if he didn't love the unexpected benefits of jealousy.

Somehow, his fingers are able to find her aching clit, drawing circles on the bundle of nerves.

"Oh fuck! Jake, fuck!" The worry of being too loud has gone out the door. In fact, she would love for one of those girls to try to find Jake, only to see her riding his cock.

The very thought causes her to increase the speed she's raising and lowering her hips. Jake's are desperately trying to meet hers, thrusting upwards.

Sometimes Venus and Jake liked taking their time, liked trying to make each other fall apart in a unspoken competition to see who would crash first.

But this was desperate. Bob and Maeve had probably returned from the bathroom (how those two thought they were slick was beyond Venus) by now. She also just wanted to feel him, to be full of him.

And Jake wanted the same thing.

She comes first, Jake having to wrap an arm around her waist to help her stay upright as she shakes against him. He keeps thrusting, wanting to prolong her pleasure, wanting to feel her tight walls hug his cock for as along as possible.

"C-c'mon Seresin. Wanna....wanna be full of ya."

Her words tip him over, the back of her thighs flushed against the top of his as he comes undone. Jake's really thankful he parked in the back of the lot, away from other cars.

Venus rests her head on Jake's shoulder, his arms wrapped around her waist, bodies pressed together. For the next few minutes, they just sit like that as they catch their breath.

"Sh...should we go back inside? Like soon?" Jake asks, breaking the silence.

Venus shrugged, "I mean, Bob and Maeve can keep themselves entertain with each other, so I'm not worried."

"If you're not worried, then I'm not worried," Jake says before pressing a kiss to her warm forehead.

[sailor-aviator]

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Twelve

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Smut (fingering, p in v), Dirty talk, Language, Flirting, Miscommunication, Fluff, Romance, Jake being an idiot. Think that's it.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Wow, okay. I told myself I wasn't going to be emotional, and yet here I am. Crying. This has been such an incredible journey, y'all. This fanfic got me through my lowest this year, and to finally see it finished now that I'm in the spot that I am? I am truly without words. A special shoutout to @goldenseresinretriever who is not only my fan club president, but one of my dearest, dearest friends. I hope I continue to do justice by these two, but I know you'll be there to make sure I do! And a shoutout to @fanficfandomlove as well! Thank you for all of your support, and I'm so lucky to count you as one of my friends! Friendly reminder that I have two writing challenges going at the moment! My Christmas Challenge and my Playlist Challenge are both still taking entries! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator! If You're feeling kind, please consider donating to my ko-fi!

Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The house was still when you entered, the afternoon light streaming through he windows and illuminating the room in such a way that it made you question reality for a moment. You clung to Jake who stood beside you, his arms strong where they were wrapped around your frame. He had almost died. You had almost been too late to save him.

You collapsed to the ground with a shuddering gasp, a sob escaping seconds later. You clasped a hand over your mouth to try and stop the noises coming from you. You had to be strong. You needed to be strong. But the sobs kept coming, wracking your body and you were vaguely aware of Jake kneeling down next to you.

“Scout,” he said gently, running a hand through your hair. “It’s okay. You’re safe. I’m safe.”

“I know,” you sobbed, reaching over to cling to him. “I know, but you almost weren’t, Jake. I almost lost you, and there would have been nothing I could have done about it.”

He was silent for a moment, letting you calm down before he continued.

“But you weren’t, sweet girl. You never gave up on me, and you made it. I’m right here with you, okay?” He cooed, helping you to your feet. He gently wiped your tears away, pressing a sweet, lingering kiss to your forehead. “But if you ever pull something like that again, I will take you over my knee, do you hear me?”

You balked, pushing away to look at him. He was grinning, but there was a look of seriousness in his eyes and you began to splutter.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am, honey girl.”

“Jake Seresin,” you growled, “I just saved your life.”

He chuckled, leaning in closer to you, and you felt your cheeks warm at the proximity.

“And while I’m very thankful for that, sweetheart,” he drawled, eyes growing dark as he looked you up and down, “it doesn’t change the fact that you put yourself in danger.”

“Unbelievable,” you groused, pushing past him and towards the stairs. You made it up the first three steps before he grabbed you, causing you to let out a shriek as he threw you over his shoulder. He gave you a swat on the rear, chuckling when you yelped.

“That mouth of yours is gonna get you into trouble one day,” he murmured playfully, walking up the stairs and towards your bedroom. Once inside, he tossed you down onto the bed where you landed with a bounce. He was on you in an instant, molding his lips over yours in a kiss that you eagerly returned. The kiss was one of desperation and relief, knowing that the both of you were alive and safe and just needing to feel one another. He nipped at your bottom lip as he pulled away, chuckling when you chased after him with a whine. He placed a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away once more.

“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” He rumbled, green eyes meeting yours. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as you got lost in how dark his eyes had become. He clucked at you disapprovingly, shaking his head. “Need to hear that pretty voice of yours, honey girl. Let’s try again. Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

You swallowed thickly, shifting slightly under the weight of his stare. “Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?” He smirked. You took a steadying breath, meeting his gaze with your half hooded one.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be a good girl for you.”

He hummed, leaning in to steal another kiss from you. His tongue delved between your parted lips, licking languidly into your mouth. You moaned into the kiss, reaching your hands up to run your fingers through the soft locks of his hair, tugging slightly. It was Jake’s turn to moan, and he pulled away, breath coming out in pants as he looked at you.

“Strip for me.”

You moved out from underneath him to stand, turning to face him as you began to undress. Jake watched you with hungry eyes as you slowly revealed yourself to him, stopping once you were standing in only your chemise. Without breaking eye contact, he moved to his feet, taking slow steps towards you. He ran his fingers over your cheekbone before cupping your jaw and kissing you once more.

“I love seeing you like this,” he whispered, voice low and gravelly. “But when I say strip, sweet girl, I mean all the way.”

Your breath hitched, eyes going wide and face heating with embarrassment. This man had seen you before, but somehow this time felt different, filled with more anticipation than nervousness like the first time. He cocked an eyebrow at you before slowly kneeling down and taking the hem of your chemise in his hands.

“Here,” he murmured, mischief in his eyes. “Let me help you.”

He slowly peeled the garment off of you, moving to stand as he did so. He pulled it gently over your head, tossing it towards the corner as he looked at you. You could practically feel the trail his eyes took as he gazed hungrily at you. He began to unbutton his own shirt, untucking it from his trousers as he gestured towards the bed.

“On the bed, Scout.”

You did as instructed, watching with hooded eyes as he stripped bare before you. Once he was finished, he crawled up the bed towards your waiting arms, meeting you in a passion filled kiss. His right hand crept up to palm at your breast, causing you to mewl into his mouth.

“Can practically smell how wet you are for me,” he growled as he pulled away, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck. Your fingers once again found purchase in his hair, desperate for something to cling on to.

His lips left a trail down your chest until they enveloped your nipple, alternating between sucking and licking. You let out a keening cry as you arched into his mouth, hands holding his head steady.

“Feel good, sugar?” He smirked up at you, nipping at the surrounding skin. “Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

“Jake!” You cried, eyes clamping shut as you squirmed beneath him. He pressed more of his weight into you in a bid to keep you still, the hard length of him pressing against your thigh.

“You feel what you do to me, honey girl?” He murmured, moving back up to capture your lips with his. This kiss was all tongues and teeth as you bucked up into him. “Feel how hard you make me?”

“Jake, please,” you whined, eyes begging as they stared at him, letting out a gasp as he snuck a finger between the two of you to press against your slit. “Need you.”

“You have me,” he cooed, pressing his finger into you slowly, earning a high-pitched cry from you as he began to slowly pump in and out. “Let me make you feel good first.”

“Jake,” you gasped, fingers moving from his hair to his shoulders, surely leaving scratches behind. “More, please.”

He slipped another finger inside of you slick entrance, scissoring them before crooking them in search of that special spot inside of you. You cried out as he found it, stars in your eyes as you called out his name, practically wailing when his thumb circled your clit and sending shocks of pleasure through you.

“Can feel how close you are, sweet girl,” he whispered, placing chaste kisses against any piece of skin he could find. “Can feel you squeezin’ my fingers. God, you’re so fucking tight. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock. Need you to come first, though. Come on, baby. Come for me.”

“Jakey,” you cried, the coil inside you snapping as your vision went white, a soundless scream on your lips.

Your breathing was ragged as you watched him slip his slick soaked fingers into his mouth, humming at the taste.

“Taste so good, honey girl,” he murmured as he looked at you, the greens of his eyes practically swallowed by his pupils. “Gonna taste you-”

“No,” you said breathlessly, causing him to frown. You shook your head as you fought to control your breathing. “Want you inside me. Please, Jakey.”

A grin broke out over his face at your words.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he chuckled, already moving to line himself up at your entrance. He ran his length through your folds, coating himself in your slick before slowly pushing in. You sucked in a breath as your nails dug into his shoulders, Jake groaning at the combination of pain and pleasure you were provoking in him.

“Shit, baby,” he gasped, head flying back as he continued to slide into you. “Can feel you sucking me in. So wet and tight. Shit.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist once he was fully seated inside of you. The two of you basked in the feel of finally having each other so close, the emotions of the past two days catching up with you. You didn’t even notice that tears began to fall until Jake was wiping them away, still seated inside of you.

“You okay?” He asked, eyes filled with concern.

“Yeah,” you nodded, cupping his face in your hand. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, nodding once more. “Need to feel you. Need you to move.”

“I’ve got you, honey girl,” he smirked, thrusting slowly into you. You gasped out, head thrown back as he built a rhythm, finding an angle that worked for the both of you.

“Always feel so good,” he groaned, nuzzling into the crook of your shoulder as his thrusts became harder. “So wet and warm. Always such a good girl for me, yeah? Made just for me. Love the pathetic little sounds you make as you’re creamin’ all over me. Makin’ a mess of the sheets as I ruin you.”

“Jakey,” you whined out, barely able to form a coherent thought as he rutted into you, the pleasure becoming overwhelming.

“What’s the matter, baby?” He smirked, pulling back to look at you and brushing a stray hair out of your face. “Too cock drunk to answer me? Am I makin’ you feel too good?”

He pulled out of you, and you cried at the loss. His hands landed on your hips as he flipped you onto your stomach, positioning you on your knees. A crack sounded in the room and you let out a gasp as Jake’s hand landed on your ass.

“Jake!” You exclaimed, eyes going wide as he landed a second blow to the other side. You could practically feel yourself grow wetter, and your cheeks heated with shame.

“You going to stay out of trouble from now on?” He asked lowly, kneading the flesh of your ass greedily. He landed another blow when you didn’t answer, and you jolted forward, but his hands held you in place.

“Jake, please,” you whined, pushing back against him in a bid for him to slip back inside you. He tsked before landing another light slap to the other side, soothing the sting before answering.

“You gonna answer my question, sweetheart? I can do this all day.”

Two more smacks resounded accompanying your moan of pleasure. You could feel yourself practically dripping onto the sheets below with how wet you were. Tears of frustration began to prickle at your eyes the longer he kept you like this.

“What’s this?” Jake mocked. “Is my honey girl a slut for pain?”

“Jake!”

“Answer the question, Scout.”

“Yes! Yes, I’m a slut for pain.”

Another smack landed on your ass, and your head fell forward onto your arms as you let out a sob.

“Are you going to stay out of trouble when I tell you to?”

“Yes! Yes, please Jakey!”

He hummed as he leaned back, admiring his handiwork. You were sure your ass was as red as it felt, and you hung your head in shame as his fingers ran through the slick that was running down your thighs.

“Who knew you’d love being treated this way,” he rasped, leaning in and licking a line up your slit. You cried out at the sensation, your hips surging back to seek out more. He chuckled as he ran his length through your folds once more. “Who knew the prim and proper lady from Baltimore was just a cock hungry slut. Is that what you want, sugar? You wanna be filled up, nice and full?”

“Yes,” you hissed, arching your back as the tip of his cock slipped into you. “Want you to fill me up.”

“As you wish,” he smirks, slamming back into you. His pace was relentless, hips slamming into yours with a force that nearly knocked you over. Jake gathered your hair into a ponytail, using it to guide you back until your back was flush to his chest. His hand drifted down to wrap around your neck, squeezing slightly and earning a debauched moan from you. He slowed his pace until he was gently rocking into you. He pulled your head to the side to face his, hooded gaze meeting hooded gaze.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, and you did as he said. Jake spit into your mouth, and a part of you knew you should be disgusted at how he was treating you, but another, larger, part entirely craved it.

“Swallow.”

You closed your mouth, swallowing. You opened your mouth without prompting, earning a wicked grin from the man behind you.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, one hand moving to guide your hips back onto him. “Love having you like this. I’m gonna fill you up so full, you’ll be leaking me for days to come, you hear me? Can’t wait for you to be all round and swollen with me, with our baby. Gonna keep you full for as long as you’ll let me. You like that? You want me to fill you up? To breed you?”

“Please,” you gasped, feeling the coil tighten in your belly for the second time. Jake released your throat, snaking his hand down to toy with your clit. You keened as the precipice approached, and you could feel him begin to twitch inside you.

“Need you to come for me, honey girl,” he rumbled, pace faltering as he neared his own high. “Need to feel you squeezin’ me and milkin’ me dry.”

You flew over the edge with a cry, the coil snapping once again as you came harder than you thought possible. Jake groaned behind you, hips stuttering as you felt spurts of warmth fill you, triggering another, smaller orgasm as you continued to flutter around him. Moments passed as the two of you rode out your highs, breathing slowing to a calm.

Jake slowly lowered the two of you to the bed, rolling to the side as you turned to face him. His skin shone with sweat in the afternoon sun, his hair sticking up every which way as he smiled softly at you. You were sure you looked a similar state, but you couldn’t find it in you to care as he cupped your jaw and pulled you into a slow, sweet kiss. His tongue ran gently over yours, and you sighed as you basked in the feeling of being there with him. He pulled away, but stayed close enough to nuzzle his nose with yours.

“I love you,” he murmured. You couldn’t help the grin that broke out across your face as you placed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I love you too.”

“I meant it, you know,” he started, eyes uncertain as they watched you. “I want to have a family with you. We’ll get married, and I’ll build us a new house. One where you and I can grow old together.”

“Do you promise?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. He nodded earnestly.

“I’ve never meant anything more in my entire life. Your aunt and uncle already gave me permission to marry you.”

“They did?” You asked, brow shooting up in surprise. You thought back to your trip those weeks ago. “Is that what she whispered to you before we left?”

“That?” He frowned, shaking his head. “No, they gave me permission after the first week of us bein’ there. No, Aunt Jo told me…”

“Told you what?” You pressed as he trailed off. His eyes held confusion as he shook his head.

“It didn’t make much sense, but she said ‘Adeline would approve.’”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, and tears flooded your eyes once more. Jake looked panicked as the tears began to fall.

“Scout, are you okay? Did I say something wrong?” He asked frantically.

“No, not at all,” you laughed, wiping the tears away. “Adeline was my mother, Jake.”

He froze, eyes growing wide as he took in your words.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “And she’s right. She would have liked you. Both of my parents would have.”

“You think?” He questioned, eyes hopeful.

“I know so.”

You sat at the bar of the saloon, head buried in your hands as you let out a frustrated sigh.

“I just don’t understand,” you said for the umpteenth time, raising your head to look at the girls that surrounded you. “Why hasn’t he proposed yet?”

“Are you two fighting about something?” Birdie asked. You shook your head.

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Maybe he’s waiting for the right time,” Penny suggested. Nat snorted, rolling her eyes.

“Knowing him,” she started, fixing you with a look, “he’s just being an idiot.”

“You don’t think he’s changed his mind about me, do you?” You whispered, fear gripping at you at the possibility. You knew that Jake had never had any intention of marrying before you came along. Maybe he had grown tired of you? Was the thought of marriage and a life together too much for him now? Things had seemed fine between you, but you were now into spring, and still no proposal. You fidgeted with the pendant around your neck. After your reunion, Jake had been quick to put it on you, chest puffed out in pride every time he saw you wearing it, which was always.

“No!” Penny assured you, resting against the bar top. “No, that boy is smitten with you, Scout.”

“You know,” Bunny spoke, causing all eyes to turn to the usually quiet girl. “If you’re really doubting his feelings for you, maybe you should try pulling back. You know, to see if he does something.”

You were quiet for a moment as you all pondered her words.

“It could work,” Penny conceded thoughtfully. “Jake is new to this kind of relationship, and asking him directly might not work. Try it Bunny’s way and see what happens.”

You nodded, moving to leave.

“And let us know what happens!” Nat called after you, earning a chuckle.

Another week had passed, and you had effectively been avoiding Jake at every turn. Every kiss dodged, every moment alone averted, and every conversation kept to a minimum. You could tell it was driving Jake crazy, but you knew he needed to be the one to confront you. How else were you supposed to know where his mind was at? Jake was kind, and perhaps he was trying to find a way to spare your feelings? No, he needed to be the one to say something.

You were carrying a bucket of feed into the barn when someone grabbed you and pushed you up against the wall. You let out a gasp as the bucket fell from your hand with a clang, your arms trapped between yours and Jake’s chest. His hands were on either side of your head as he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. You kissed him back with fervor, hands gripping onto his shirt. You had missed this. This week had been just as hard for you as it appeared to be for him.

You shoved him away, Jake stumbling back a few steps as you attempted to calm your racing mind, the both of you panting and glaring at each other.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He growled, eyes running up and down the length of you. You swallowed thickly, straightening to your full height.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, yes you do,” he snapped, pointing a finger at you accusingly. “You have been dodgin’ me left and right all week, and I wanna know why.”

“Are you tired of me?” You blurted out. All anger drained from Jake’s face as it was replaced with confusion.

“What?”

“Are you tired of me?”

“Scout, that’s a stupid question,” he huffed. When you didn’t say anything, he rolled his eyes and fixed you with another glare. “No, of course I’m not. Why would you think that?”

“Then why haven’t you proposed yet?” You murmured, bottom lip wobbling as you fought to keep your composure. “It’s been weeks since everything happened, and you still haven’t asked me to marry you.”

Jake looked at you incredulously, taking the few steps until he was standing right in front of you.

“Well, shit, honey girl,” he chuckled. “I gave you the necklace, didn’t I?”

“What?” You blinked up at him.

“I gave you the necklace,” he continued, picking up the pendant and toying with it. “Figured that was as good as declaring we were gonna get married one day.”

You stared at him, his words slowly running through your head. You shoved him back again, this time following him as you slapped at his chest and shoulders.

“Ow, hey! Scout!” He hollered, grabbing your arms to stop you. Once you realized you were immobile, you stamped your foot, glaring up at him.

“Jake Seresin,” you shrieked, cheeks warm from exertion, “giving me the necklace does not equate to a proposal!”

Now it was his turn to stare. His bewildered expression melted into one of mischief and wonder as he ran his thumbs up and down your wrists.

“Alright, honey girl. You just wait. I’ll blow you away,” he smirked, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. You hummed, melting into his touch as he released your arms to wrap his own around you, swaying the two of you side to side.

“You better,” you muttered, a ghost of a smile on your lips. You felt him place a kiss to the top of your head as he held you tighter.

“How are you feelin’ now?” He asked, running a comforting hand up and down your spine as the two of you continued to sway.

“I’m happy,” you whispered, closing your eyes and pressing your ear to his chest. His heartbeat was strong and steady, a sound you’d never tire of.

“Yeah,” he hummed, resting his cheek against the top of your head now. “I’m happy too.”

Coming January 2024...

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[mrsjobarnes]

What’s the worst thing that can happen?

Summary: Jake and you have been secretly together for 5 months, what is the worst that could happen? 

Jake Sersin x Mitchell!Reader

Word count: 1.8 k 

Warning - 18+, Angst, Fluff, Illusion to Smut

Likes, Comments and Reblogs  are welcome!

Please do not steal my work! 

“Hey, baby, I'm pulling into the parking lot now. Are you sure you don’t want to come clean and tell Bradley?”

“Y/n have you lost your mind? Rooster and Maverick would kill me if they found out I was dating you, and I don’t know about you but I’d like to live” you giggled at what Jake had just said.  

“Okay but if they ask I’m not lying anymore,” you said.

“Deal, at least if they kill me I’ll have witness” you can’t help but laugh at the stupidity of your boyfriend

“If they see how happy you make me, they can’t hurt you. That’s the perk of being the only girl but in all seriousness, it doesn’t matter what they think, you’re my boyfriend and I love you. That’s all that matters” you quickly say your goodbyes and lock your car. As you walk into the bar you look around for your bean pole of a brother. After you spot him you walk over. “Hey, guys this is Maverick's daughter and my sister Y/n!” Rooster said. Everybody went around introducing themselves when Coyote aks the million-dollar question

“Soooo are you like adopted or something because you look nothing like Maverick,” he asks. Rooster goes to answer when you cut him off. 

“Am I adopted Bradley, how could you lie to me?” you say, the group goes dead silent. He rolled his eyes, while Jake bites his lip to keep from laughing. “I’m just kidding, yeah I'm adopted,” you say. Everybody lets out a collective sigh and hardy laugh.

“Long time no see,” said Nat while she gave you a bear hug. “Seriously where have you been? '' she asks. 

“Well unlike you guys some of us have regular 9 to 5 jobs,” you say smiling. 

“Y/n you and I both know you don’t work a 9 to 5,” Bradley says. It’s true you don’t, you’re an elementary teacher so you work overtime quite often. 

“Tis true brother, however winter break is around the corner! Thank god, I love kids but some of these crotch goblins are giving me a run for my money” you say with a serious look. Everyone burst into laughter. Nat offers to buy you a round and you graciously accept. The team goes on to talk about things that you could care less about. All you care about is the joy you see on Jake’s face when he gets to talking about something he is passionate about. You know how your brother feels about Jake. they didn’t have an excellent start to their relationship but he saved, your brother, and dad. They are working on building a relationship, which makes you very happy. 

As the night goes on you end up playing pool with Jake, Bob, Nat, and Bradley. You are bending over for your shot when Bradley asks “what the hell happened to your neck and chest Y/N” he asked with a very concerned tone, ready to beat whoever did that to you. 

“Oh this, it’s nothing.” you try to play it off but Nat interjects and tells Bradley that they are hickeys. Your face turns beet red as you tried to think of a way to change the conversation. Jake starts panicking because of the conversation you had in the car. “So has anyone seen the new episode of house of dragons?” a tv show you knew Bradley liked.

“You’re not getting out of this Y/n,” Bradley says with a stoic look on his face. He has always been super protective over you. He thought that if you were seeing someone you’d tell him. To be honest he was a little hurt. 

“Its, not a big deal, I’m seeing this guy and he got carried away. It’s not my fault I’m irresistible. Plus I’m a grown woman and if you think I look bad you should see him” you say. Jake smile remembering how she got those and why it looks like his abs and back were attacked by a cat. “Now can we move on to why you still have a caterpillar on your lip,” you ask. The group erupts in laughter. Pleased with the fact that he gets to live till tomorrow Jake buys the table a round. While he’s at the bar ordering a girl comes up and strikes up a conversation with him. 

“Oh look, hangman found someone already. He was doing so well too, almost 4 months.” Javy said. Everyone lets out a chuckle.  You turn around and see Jake talking to a girl. You try hard to not get jealous because you know he is a good guy. Before anyone else could comment they saw Jake shut down the girl’s advancements and head toward the table with their drinks. “Whoah Hangman are you sick,” Javy asks. 

Jake furrows his brows “No?” he said questioning why Javy would ask that, then it dawned on him. “Oh I just don’t feel like it tonight,” he said. 

“That’s been your excuse a lot recently, are you sure you’re okay” Javy ask genuinely concerned. Jake felt trapped, he could either fess up or keep lying. He looked at you, hoping you could give him an answer. You look at him as if giving an encouraging nod.  He quickly musters up some courage. 

“I am seeing someone” Jake said with a bashful smile. You smiled as well, although it wasn’t the full truth it was a step in the right direction. The group was silent until Bob congratulated him and said it was about time. The group quickly moved conversations to talk about the most recent football game. 

You walked over to Jake and whispered into his ear “Hey do you want to get out of here and come to my place?” He gave an enthusiastic yes and told the group that he was going to head out. 15 minutes later you also bid your goodbyes to the group and raced to your house to meet Jake. 

As you pulled into your driveway and parked Jake hopped out of his car and raced to you feverishly kissing you. Once he was done he put his hand out asking for your keys. Once he had them he threw you over his shoulder giving your ass a nice smack which elected a moan from you.

—

 You are awoken by the sun streaming through your blinds. You turn over and snuggle into Jake’s chest to hide from the sun’s harsh rays. He brings you closer as if that’s possible. “Good morning darling,” he said with his voice thick with sleep and southern charm, you smile and look up at him. 

“Moring,” you say kissing him, he kisses you back like a man starved. You giggle and straddle him and kiss down his neck when you hear the lock to your front door click and a pair of boots stomping around. 

“Y/n, are you up? You are late to brunch” your dad shouts

“Hurry up im starving” shouts Bradley stomping up the stairs. You quickly look at your clock and see that it’s 12:30. You are 30 minutes late to brunch. 

“Shit shit shit” you whisper as you get off of Jake and try to find a shirt. “Uhh give me a second, i'll be right out” you shout. Whispering profanity and telling Jake to get dressed and hide in the bathroom. It’s too late because Bradley opens the door right as Jake is getting out of bed to put his boxers back on. 

“What the fuck” Bradley yells frozen in the doorway, you hear another round of feet coming up the stairs. 

“What is it, Bradley,” your dad asks sounding super concerned. Once he appears at the door and lets out a grone. They both look ready to kill At this point, but the shock has worn off of you. 

“First of all knock”, you say in a stern tone. “Second of all calm down,lets talk about this when I’m fully dressed” shutting the door in their faces. Looking back a Jake you expect him to freak but he doesn’t he just pulls you in for a kiss. 

“It was nice to know you doll,” he says kissing you again. You roll your eyes and put on some PJs. Once you are both dressed you head downstairs into your kitchen. 

As soon as you walk in they start asking questions. You hold your hand up and say “First of all stop yelling, Second would you all like coffee?” you walk towards the coffee maker and turn it on. Jake stands at the door looking ready to run if they come after him. As the coffee starts to brew you go about making your cup while Bradley and your dad just stare at you knowing not to mess with you until you’ve had a cup. As soon as you’ve taken your first sip they start bum-barding you with questions. “Okay let me start from the beginning you say” walking over to the table and grabbing Jake along the way, as you all sit down. “Jake and I met at the Hard deck 5 months ago, he was very kind and not like how you all described him,” you say looking at Bradley. 

“YOU’VE BEEN DATING FOR 5 MONTHS” Bradley stands and shouts. You give him a look that screams ‘shut the fuck up’ he quietly sits back down and you continue explaining the ins and out of your relationship. Once you are done you all sit in silence while the two men across from you process this new information. “I still don’t like this,” said Bradley. You kick him under the table and glare. 

“I don’t care if you like it, it's my life and I can date who I want,” you say looking at Jake with doe eyes. Bradley just glares at Jake 

“Does he make you happy,” your dad asks. You shake your head yes. “Then that’s all I can ask for, but I swear Jake if you hurt my baby I will kill you,” he said. 

“Yes sir,” Jake said. “She is honestly the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love her and would do anything for her.” He said kissing your forehead. You look up at him and snuggle into him. 

“Okay, then that’s all I can ask as a father,” Maverick said sincerely. You smile at your dad and then look at Bradley. 

“I'm not happy that you kept this from me, however, if you are happy then I'm happy. Just keep the PDA to a minimum please,” he said with a small smile on his face. “I'm going to text the group that you don’t have an STI,” he said looking at Jake. 

“What,” the group said collectively. Bradley explained that when Jake stopped sleeping with a new girl every night, the team got concerned and Bob suggested that he may have gotten an incurable STI. They all burst into laughter. 

“Well, why don’t you two get dressed? We can go get food, I'm still hungry and I know Bradley is probably dying” said Maverick, you and Jake agreed and went to get ready. 

“See that didn’t go that bad,” you said, handing Jake some clothes. 

“Wait till they find out that I’m moving In,” he said, kissing your neck.

[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | 2.7 | Jake Seresin x Reader

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Synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

Warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, manipulation, sucky parents, grief and manipulation, lying, mentions of pregnancy (rumours), tabloids, media, Jake’s feelings, Apollo making bad decisions <3, wc: 5.8k

…

Jake has been having weird dreams recently. No, weird isn’t the word. Downright unnerving. The kind of dreams that have you waking up breathless, and drenched in sweat, and alone. He has been here before. Not in this particular hotel room is SoCal, but in this position. Alone, and having weird dreams.

The sheet under him is damp, and he can feel one bead of sweat in particular following the length of his spine. It’s a sick kind of feeling, like waiting for a fever to break. He swallows thickly before he even begins to stir. His throat is sore and dry. His legs ache before he even attempts to stretch them

Without opening his eyes, he knows that his bed is empty.

But, even in this empty bed, filled with that sick kind of feeling, Jake would rather be here. Being awake, left with the sobriety of conscious thought, is a far milder form of torture than letting himself drift off again. Here, awake, you’re alive.

You aren’t in danger, screaming out his name and begging for his help. Even here, even awake, the sound of your voice rings in his ears and his forearms tingle like your fingertips are still digging into them.

He can barely sleep now, not until the exhaustion finally comes for him and he knocks out. Even then, even when he finally manages to sleep, he doesn’t rest. He’s met with the same dreams over and over.

This hotel room in San Diego is far from feeling like home. It doesn’t smell right. It smells like air freshener and laundry. He can hear traffic and voices in the hall. The room feels too still. Jake misses that familiar feeling of your restless sleep, your limbs all over him and your face pressing into the crook of his neck, your heart beating against his skin. He misses the smell of you, the soft perfume of your body wash that always lingers from showering with him the night before.

He parts his dry lips and lets out a long exhale. His fingers twitch at his side before he manages to lift his arm and rub at his eyes.

As much as real rest would probably heal the aches in his body — he’s not in his twenties anymore, nature keeps reminding him of that — Jake won’t let himself stay in bed. An hour after sunrise, he’s jogging along the viewpoint by Ocean Beach. He’s listening to his country running playlist that you make fun of him for.

He thinks of all the mornings he let you coax him into staying in bed. Those mischievous little smiles and your legs stretching out across the fabric, tangling between his, your hands adventuring across his muscles. He has always been an early riser, but he misses those lazy mornings. He hates himself for wasting so many — arguing with you or beating himself up for what he was keeping from you. None of it seems worth it now.

This beautiful day, this soaring sun. Clear sky, ocean air, salt on his skin. He would give it all up in an instant.

He’d give anything to come home and find you sprawled out along the couch, a straw between your lips and another one of those mischievous little smiles toying on them too, asking him, “How was the run, cowboy?”

His feet hit the pavement to the beat playing through his ears, his heartbeat starting to quicken through his chest. Faster than normal. He’s a pretty fit guy, he works out regularly. He hasn’t been sleeping well. Or eating great. Sweat beads along his hairline as he pushes himself harder anyway. A simple 5k hasn’t ever stunted him before, and he won’t let it now.

The shore passes him by in his peripheral, traffic on his other side. He wonders if you’re up yet, if this is hitting you as hard as it’s hitting him. There are a hundred and twelve days left of your father’s term, three-sixty-five after that where you’ll still have a service detail. Jake read those papers from back to front twice. Four hundred more days of this is going to kill him.

Twenty minutes into his 5k, something snaps him out of his pity party. Something to his right, barely there in the corner of his vision. He turns his head, brows drawing together. Harvard. Brigham fucking Lennox, a kid who was brought up to be just as pretentious as the people who named him that had hoped.

The Weapons Systems Officer is leaning out of the driver’s side window of a black Jeep Wrangler. Shirtless and wearing sunglasses, probably on his way to some party on the beach that Jake would have been throwing if things had gone down differently. He’s yelling something.

“What?” Jake pants out, plucking the earbud from his ear, squinting through the sun at the ghost of a friend, leaning out of the driver’s side window. Harvard’s smile practically doubles, stretching ear to ear.

“I said congratulations, Hangman!” Harvard’s East-Coast accent booms across the street. Jake’s brows draw together, his mouth pulling into a contradictory frown.

Just like that, the light turns green and Harvard lifts one of those stupid bear paws he’s got for hands and waves, then the Jeep pulls off down the street. Congratulations, Hangman. Jake stares after the car, catching his breath.

It speeds away from him with the flow of traffic, while Jake himself can’t fathom moving from this spot. There’s a twisting, tightening knot in his stomach that threatens to have him heaving on this sidewalk like a hungover teenager.

Straightening up a little, Jake inhales all the sea salt and humidity that this little patch of earth has to offer. It weighs down throat sick feeling just enough for it to sink back to the pit of his stomach. If there’s one thing that Jake will remember about his career in the Navy, it’s how those guys tick. That Cheshire Cat smile doesn’t ever mean anything good.

He stretches his neck side to side and pushes his right hand into his pocket. Jake has to lift his left hand to shield his eyes as he looks down at his phone and finally turns off the do not disturb feature. He hadn’t wanted to listen to his mother’s pity for the second time in a five year period — he loves her, but he won’t ever let her see him with a broken heart again.

Blinking, he pulls the phone closer to his face. He’s got almost nine hundred notifications pending on his Home Screen. He swipes briefly into them and reads the top text message.

Hey, man, it’s Rooster. Hope you’re doing okay. Just saw the news.

Jake squints. He didn’t even know that Bradshaw still had his phone number. Jake’s mind instantly thinks of the worst. She’s dead. He’s been gone for a week, and now she’s dead. Swallowing, he continues. His thumb pushes the notification away and unlocks the phone all together.

He opens an internet browser and moves to click on the search bar, but he doesn’t have to. It’s right there staring back at him. Headline news, highlighted on the browser. First Daughter’s illicit affair with bodyguard. Your name plastered across the front page. Then, his eyes land on it. Knocked up.

It’s a picture of you with your hand extending backwards towards Jake in a crowd. It was from before anything had even happened with you. He remembers that dress, and the way your palm fit into his. It’s got emojis edited over it, tabloid-style, babies and bottles.

“Sorry, excuse me.” Jake flinches. His head whips around and finds a woman with a stroller staring at him apologetically. It’s double-wide, and there are two twin girls sitting in the pink and white thing, staring at him too. Twins.

His eyes widen. They aren’t very old. One of them is drooling all over their fist and the other is happily making some kind of cookie turn to mush in their hand. They’re watching him intently.

He’s blocking the sidewalk. That’s all it is. That’s why all three of them are staring at him. He’s just standing like an idiot in the middle of the path.

“Yeah. Sorry. Sorry.” Jake mutters, stumbling back out of her way, turning his attention back to the phone and clicking on a link. He’s zoned out again just as quickly, brows furrowed as he studies the webpage.

Insider source. Going on for months. Fired. Cover-up. Uncovered images. He sits on the wall bordering the beach and gawks.

The leaked security feeds had nothing to do with you, even though you had figured it would all come spilling out eventually. Once the media gets a whiff of a scandal, it’s impressive what they can find. Oddly, you’re okay with the evidence that they found. You know that there must be worse out there.

The worst that they’ve got is you and Jake pictured leaving the same bathroom minutes apart in the White House. Couple of kissing pictures. Old photos of Jake guiding you through busy crowds with his fingertips brushing yours are suddenly front page news.

You might be okay with what the internet has discovered — after all, you were prepared for it. Jake, however, suddenly starts to understand why that sick, twisting feeling won’t leave him alone.

He studies these images for longer than he’ll ever admit, all of these photos of the two of you together, grainy and from a bird’s eye angle. All it does is make that feeling in his chest grow. A simmer spilling over into a full blown boil. His ears hot, his throat thick, his fingers trembling. All of these reminders of how many times he got to touch you, and he sits there by the beach not knowing if he’ll ever get to do it again. Not after this.

It’s far too nice of a day for this. Mid-morning down by the San Diego River Bikeway. Blue skies and a soft, salty breeze cutting through the warming day. Everyone carries on around him.

He stares at the image left on his phone now. It’s a picture of you as a kid, standing next to your father and looking up at him with a big smile on your face. Even then, it’s at a campaign event. He isn’t even looking at you. Right next to that, a stark comparison, is a picture of you at the party you had snuck out to in the hills. You’re wearing a cap sleeve mini dress that hugs your body like a second skin, and Jake’s standing right behind you, smiling, pointing to a table of liquor.

That’s the narrative they’re spinning, and Jake is glad.

He’s panicking, he’s sick and his head feels like it’s going to roll right off of his shoulders, but he’s so glad that it isn’t your name being dragged through the mud. Suddenly, his biggest concern is no longer whether you’re awake and missing him. You’re all alone, probably scared out of your mind.

All those mornings with you keeping him in bed, sure, they were the focus a few minutes ago. Now he’s thinking of the evenings he had spent with you wrapped tight in his arms, calming your worries, soothing you to sleep. He hadn’t once dreamt of leaving you alone with those worries ever again, much less of being the cause of them.

The two of you hadn’t exactly been careful. Jake hadn’t touched you much since the two of you had been here together, four or so weeks ago now. Not since he had gotten that phone call in the Hard Deck. But before that — there were points where the two of you had slept together four times in one day.

Jake’s feet stumble as he goes for his first step, almost tripping over himself. He picks at straws in his mind, finally starting to move, wracking his brain for answers. The downstairs bathroom near the garden in the White House — fuck, Jake hopes he didn’t make a baby in that place.

He’s still thinking about it once he’s stepping out of his car and slamming the door shut. Truthfully, he drove this route on autopilot. If Bradley Bradshaw still has Jake’s number, he probably still lives in the same place. That old bird always had a thing for the sentimental.

Speaking of sentimental, Jake’s got a bad taste in his mouth thinking about this whole thing. It’s not like, if you have this kid, it’s ever going to experience a normal life. Family Christmases seem far from possible after your dad just threatened to send Jake to jail.

He swallows softly, walking up the steps and knocking against the glass pane in the door. This place had seemed weird and old back then. A fifties style bungalow with awkward links to the city and far too much peace and quiet; it paled in comparison to Jake’s bachelor pad near base.

Now, it looks the exact same. Nothing has changed but Jake. Now, he looks at the six foot fence around the backyard and the slightly longer driveway so that it’s quiet and off the road, and it all makes sense. It’s practically perfect.

Jake blinks as the door pulls open. There he is again, for the second time in just over a month after four years of no contact. Bradley stares, eyes wide for a second as he processes who is standing in front of him. It takes a moment to register. He stiffens and grips the door handle tighter.

“Jake.” Bradley realizes, frowning slightly as he bumps the door against his shoulder, blocking the entryway with his body. He gives his old friend a quick look up and down. If there’s one person he hadn’t been expecting to see on his porch, shirtless and looking like hell, today it was Jake. “What’s up?”

“Can I use your phone? I need to make a call.”

“They didn’t have one in your… hotel room?” Bradley frowns. He nudges closer and pulls the door with him. Jake’s expression changes. So, Bradley’s got some girl inside. Jake couldn’t care less. There were times when they were deployed that Jake has heard and seen Bradley do things he’d rather not remember.

Now, he’s standing on Bradley’s front porch and ready to name each and every one of them in alphabetical order if the dumb bird doesn’t get a lot more compliant, quickly.

“I was closer to here. Look, I don’t care who you’ve got in there — can I please just make a call from your phone?” Jake rushes. Bradley sinks his teeth into the inside of his cheek and turns his head to glance through into the hallway of his apartment.

Rooster has seen the articles. He knows why Jake’s standing at his front door drenched in sweat right now. He also knows that if he was in Jake’s shoes, he would be going out of his mind right now. Hell, if Rooster was in Jake’s shoes, he’s not sure he would have survived the past four years.

“Yeah. Sure. Come in, I’ll grab my phone.” He decides finally, already feeling that this is a bad idea from the second that Jake’s foot crosses the threshold. Bradley’s back is turned for exactly six paces.

“Babe—“

Jake’s head turns as Bradley picks his phone up from the couch. His brows knit together at the sound of a familiar voice — a masculine voice. They both turn their heads to stare at the man standing in Bradley’s hallway.

Javy swallows. He shifts uncomfortably on his weight and crosses his wrists like that will hide the fact that he’s wearing nothing but a charcoal coloured pair of Calvin Klein briefs.

Jake turns his head again, and this time finds Rooster turning beet red. If he wasn’t freaking out so badly, he might have cracked a joke.

“I mean… Rooster.” Javy corrects.

“Bradshaw, phone.” Jake reminds. Rooster blinks, tossing his phone across to Jake. Jake catches it in one hand and heads back out onto the front porch silently.

These people used to be his best friends. Once upon a time, this news would have been ground breaking to him. Rooster and Coyote. This would have taken him weeks to get over. Today, he doesn’t give a shit. Truthfully, from the deepest part of him, he doesn’t care about those people in the slightest.

All he cares about is you, going through exactly what he’s going through, alone.

He taps the number in to Bradley’s phone and it rings once before it is answered.

“Sir, I told you, she won’t speak to y—“

“Allen.” Jake breathed out and the other man stops speaking instantly. This isn’t allowed. This conversation shouldn’t be happening. No one really tried that hard to prevent it though, not really. Not when it was this easy. “Put her on the phone.”

Allen swallows softly as he turns his head and looks into the living room at the furious girl on the couch. Your father has been calling you all day, and now you’re being grilled by a California press representative. You just won’t talk.

“I can’t, sir. She’s in the middle of something right now.” Allen carries on like he’s still speaking to Mr. Head of State himself.

Jake opens his mouth but then quickly decides that he has to sit down before he can say something like this outside. He stumbles forwards and drops down onto Bradley Bradshaw’s porch step. He threw up here once in his twenties. Bradley didn’t invite him back much after that. “Is she pregnant?”

“I’m not sure. Sir.” Allen answers quietly. He presses his lips together in a tight line. With how fragile you’ve been recently, you’re going to lose it if you find out he spoke with Jake today. Currently, you appear to have taken a vow of silence. You’ve been tapping away at a laptop for hours. The entire staff has tried to put you on the phone with your father several times each. You just won’t talk to him.

Allen knows why you’re doing it. You want that selfish old bastard to panic. He can’t say he blames you.

“What do you mean you don’t fucking know? — She is or she isn’t. Allen, put her on the phone, I need to speak to her.” Jake bites. He rubs at his eyes, his head is pounding.

“I can’t do that. I would if I could.” Allen answers softly. Jake could continue to argue, but he knows this old jerk isn’t going to change his mind. His fist clenches around the chipped wooden step.

His throat strains. “Is — Is she okay?”

“No.” Allen answers calmly, leaning his back slightly against the wall behind him. Shooting a quick look in each direction, he lowers his voice again. “I… I think she might have let this get leaked on purpose.

“What?” Jake gawks. For the second time today, his world is turned on his axis and he has to reevaluate all of the information he has seen before. He rubs his knuckle into the socket of his eye, shaking his head like that will unscramble his train of thought.

“She told someone. I don’t see why she would, unless—“

You’re not pregnant. If you were, you wouldn’t tell a stranger. Unless this is the same girl you told before, about you and him. Fuck, he’s not sure what you would do anymore. He doesn’t have a clue.

“Fuck. Fuck. I need to see her. I know it’s a lot to ask, but—“ Jake pushes his fingers into his head and shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He can’t pretend he hadn’t ever thought of what it would be like to have a family with you. Far in the future, he had hopes for plenty of things.

This wasn’t ever how he dreamed of finding out he was going to be a dad, he’s terrified. He can’t imagine how you’re feeling.

He needs to see your face.

“Jake. Don’t.” Allen whispers angrily, making Manny’s head shoot up. The older man turns on his heel and heads for the back door. This conversation can’t continue here, when Jake’s being this ridiculous. “What phone is this? — The house is full of staff right now, you can’t do this now. I could get her to call you. Later.”

“Yeah. I can keep the phone. Get her to call me back on this number. I swear, Allen, if I don’t hear from her today then I’m going to drive up there.”

“Alright!” Allen hisses into the phone, checking over his shoulder. He could be tanking his thirty year career just by having this conversation, much less by aiding and abetting your little affair. “I’ll figure it out. Just calm down. She’s… in a weird place right now and I don’t need you making it worse. This is going to blow over.”

“Making it— are you fucking kidding?”

The line clicks dead. Jake almost throws the phone across the front yard, but he doesn’t. For two reasons. The first, he needs to speak to you — if he doesn’t hear your voice today, he might actually go insane. The second, he knows that Rooster is watching and would be upset if Jake obliterated his phone.

Jake swallows dryly, then pushes himself to stand. Rooster and Coyote spring into action, trying to make it look like they hadn’t been eavesdropping, as Jake walks back into the living room. Javy is wearing sweatpants now. Jake doesn’t take notice of either one of them, not really.

“I need to keep your phone for today.” Jake says, offering no explanation to accompany the statement. They were listening, he doesn’t need to elaborate.

“Uh… alright. Can l… see something on there first?” Rooster asks, shooting an awkward glance across at Javy. Javy’s eyes widen as he turns to look at the phone in Jake’s hand. Jake passes it over compliantly.

Rooster perches on the arm of the couch and gets to work hiding all of the naked photos of Jake’s best friend in a secret album. Silence falls across the three of them. This is especially rough because anyone who knows Javy, knows that he’s a chatterbox. He loves to talk. He could talk to anyone about everything.

But he doesn’t know how to talk to Jake now.

The feeling isn’t good. Jake is the one who left. The one who couldn’t bare to see their faces, or hear their voices, or even think about the Hard Deck. He shut them out on purpose and most days, after he had first lost Dani, Jake had hoped he wouldn’t ever see a single one of them again.

He guesses now that maybe if he wasn’t seeing them, he could pretend that she wasn’t dead. That she was still sitting in that bar, playing pool with her friends, growing older like she was meant to.

Jake and Javy are thinking of the same thing. Dani. What things would be like if she hadn’t died. If Jake might have stayed — that’s not much of a question; he would have. He loved his life back then. But that’s all an if. Jake hates playing the ‘What If’ game. His counselor told him it isn’t healthy.

He could love his life now, maybe even more than he had back then. He doesn’t like to thing about you in the same vein as Danielle — it doesn’t seem right to compare you when you each were so different, and he was so different when he loved you and her.

He can’t keep thinking about it, it still makes him angry. So, he swallows and crosses his arms over his chest, turning his head towards Coyote. “So… you’re fucking Rooster.”

“Actually, I’m the one—“ Bradley stops talking as Jake and Javy turn to look at him together. He just smiles sheepishly, then turns his attention back to the phone.

“Actually, we’ve been dating for four months.” Javy explains, his lips tugging at a smile. He won’t quite let himself give into it. They’re both pretending that he isn’t standing there barely dressed.

Jake raises his brows. “Wow. Dating… you didn’t say anything when I was here last.”

“You didn’t tell us that you were sleeping with the President’s daughter.” Javy retaliates, this time giving into the amusement and letting a smirk plaster itself across his angled features.

Rooster looks up quickly and shoots a stern look across at his boyfriend. When they had discussed what they would say to Jake if they saw him during all of this, they had specifically agreed not to come at him head on.

Jake makes himself smile. “Dating. I guess. More than fucking, anyway.”

Doesn’t feel right to say that he might have found the love of his life, not when they all thought he had found it before.

Javy smiles back at him, arms folded across his bare chest. He gives a small nod. “So… are you really going to be a dad?”

Rooster looks up again, this time handing the phone back to Jake. Both of them stare at him now. The Hangman they knew back then would be taking this news a lot worse.

“I don’t know. I hope not.” The hope isn’t that there’s no baby because he doesn’t want one with you. That’s clear. He just can’t let you go through that without him right by your side. He wants more for you right now. He wants independence, and privacy. He wants whatever you want, and you’ve never once signaled to him that that would be a baby.

“Well… we were just going to watch the game later. If you wanted to hang out here, take your mind off things.” Bradley offers, giving a small shrug of his shoulders. Jake glances over towards Javy, then back. Then, down at the phone in his hand. It’s probably not cool to steal Rooster’s phone.

“Yeah, okay.” Jake decides quietly.

There’re a small clock in the corner of the TV screen. Jake sinks into Bradley’s couch, his arms crossed over his chest, and watches the minutes tick by. Bradley and Javy sit either side of him trying to prompt the conversation onward.

If this was a couple of years ago, Jake would be cracking jokes and this would feel as natural as breathing. Now, even breathing doesn’t feel all that natural. Each inhale feels like winding clock hands into place. Every exhale feels like he’s in flight school feeling that G-Force nausea again for the first time.

He wishes he hadn’t let it get this bad. That he hadn’t let these guys become strangers. He wishes he would have been there when Rooster and Coyote started dating, so he could figure it out before everyone else and bet Phoenix out of twenty dollars. He wonders if she knows yet.

“So, is my phone number gonna get put on a CIA watch list or something?” Rooster asks, one arm tucked behind his head and a beer in his hand. Jake almost scoffs at the idea, then stops to consider it. Maybe, actually. He turns his head to look at Rooster.

“Worried they’re going to hear all those voicemails Mav leaves you reminding you to water your plants?” Javy taunts from the other side of Jake. Jake snorts, looking between the two of them.

“You’re a farmer now, too, huh?” Jake chimes in.

“Oh yeah. Chillies, herbs, tomatoes, zucchini. He’s even got little gloves he wears when he gardens.” Javy spills, making Jake laugh for the first time. This next inhale feels softer, a little more natural. Making fun of Rooster will always feel natural.

Four hours away, your vow of silence still hasn’t let up. For the first time all day, you’ve moved from the couch. Allen had watched you stand up, slamming the laptop lid shut and tucking the thing under your arm. It hasn’t left your side in a day and a half.

If he’s right, and you’ve orchestrated this entire thing so far, he knows that it doesn’t stop with a scandal. No, you’re going right for the jugular with this thing. He trails behind you, footsteps quiet on the rug. And yet, you hear him anyway.

He stumbles as you round on him, doing his best to slow down and not completely mow you over in his stride. Those crows feet and sun-aged freckles aren’t fooling you, that stern-looking old man hasn’t ever been able to stop you doing anything.

“Why are you following me, Allen?”

He narrows those grey eyes at you and leans closer, “What the hell are you up to? — Don’t lie to me.”

Briefly, he’s met with silence. As much silence as is possible in your life. Downstairs is still buzzing with life, with phone calls. The entire house is trying to clean up the mess you made, all at once. Just like you wanted them to. Now, they’re all busy.

“I’m keeping a promise that I made to my dad.” You shrug. It’s the truth, in simple terms. You promised him you were going to ruin him, and that man raised you not to quit.

Allen looks heavenward, resting his hands on his hips. He remembers the day he met you, and how angry you were back then. Far too often since that day, he has found himself thinking of what he would say to you if you were one of his daughters. He sniffs, then exhales, dropping his neck and studying the carpet.

“I spoke to Jake today. He saw the news and he called me.” This time, when he lifts his gaze and looks at you, his jaw sets and his brows knit together. You might not be one of his daughters, but he knows you like you are. “I’m gonna let you speak to him, and you’re going to promise me something, kid.”

For the first time all day, that indifferent, angry look drops from your face and Allen sees you for what you are. Devastated. You nod your head furiously, blinking at him. “Anything.”

His expression dullens, eyes growing stormy. “You’ll drop this. Whatever you’re planning, whatever you’re doing — you’ll let it go.”

Your face blanks in front of him, then calms. You’re poker-facing him, he knows that look. He has known how to recognise it since you were young. Still, he waits for your answer.

“Okay.” You tell him, straightening out your mouth, giving him a curt nod.

Swiftly, he takes one step forwards and invades your space. He has let you get away with too much for too long. He acknowledges now, after he had retired, you would probably be dead if it wasn’t for Jake. He won’t make the same mistake twice.

“No. I’m serious. Swear to me that you won’t do anything stupid.”

If his definition of anything stupid is even remotely similar to Jake’s, you’re confident that you will have already disappointed the both of them. They would never approve. It’s not safe. But you’re not made of glass, and the things you have found could change everything.

It’s scary, really, the way you’re able to relax your face so solemnly. Allen’s been looking at that face almost every day for the last seven years, and you still manage to fool him.

“I swear. I swear that I’ll leave it alone, if you let me speak to him.”

Jake gets the call just after seven. He practically throws Coyote out of the way heading for the door. He staggers out onto the back porch and rests his hand against the stair railing, bracing his weight.

“Jake?”

For the past four nights straight, Jake’s subconscious has subjected him to nothing but your voice, strained in terror and pain, calling out for help. To hear it now, soft and calm — it feels like Jake’s lungs untwist and he can inhale deeper.

“Fuck, honey, I missed you.” He breathes out all at once, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. Faintly, he can hear the soft whimper you make on the other end. The slight sniffle. He can’t see you, and he doesn’t ask to confirm, but he knows that you’re laying in his bed. It’s not just wishful thinking. He just knows that if he got in his car and drove there now, that’s where he would find you.

He likes the idea. If he has to wake up alone, at least he knows you’re still waking up in his bed somehow.

“I miss you so much.” You tell him quietly, your eyes squeezed tightly shut, his comforter hugged to your chest. With your eyes closed, it’s easier to pretend that he’s here with you.

“I have to ask. You’re not… — You aren’t—?”

“No, shit. I’m sorry. No.” You remember, giving a quick shake of your head. “I’m not. I’m not.”

Jake exhales and takes two steps down from the porch, shuffling down, settling onto his back on the grass. “I’ve been thinking all day about it. We haven’t talked about kids.”

“No, but it’s fine. I only said—“

“I want that,” Jake tells the sky, the phone pressed so close to his ear that he can listen to you breathing. “One day, I want to hear that news and I want us to be happy. And I want it to be our news, just ours. At least for a while.”

You press your face into the cold fabric of his pillow, letting it soak up the tears on your cheeks. He listens to you breathe a little while longer. It’s not what he’s used to. If you were really here, you’d be closer. Each of your exhales would fan out across his chest.

“I…” You almost tell him that you want that too, and it’s ridiculous but in that split-second, it just sounds too daunting. After all you’ve been through. All that the two of you have faced together. You’re just too scared to tell him. “I’m so sick of living like this.”

“I know, sweet girl, I know.” Jake murmurs. He’s so close to the phone that your mind fills in that blanks and you swear you feel the rumble in his chest that you only hear when you’re laying on him.

If you ever want any semblance of the life that Jake wants to give you, something has to give. You’ve got to be brave about it. It was never going to be easy.

“I really love you.” You tell him quietly, pulling his pillow close against your body. Jake blinks up at the sky and just for a moment wishes he was back home. At least there, the sky’s dark enough for him to pick out constellations. There, he would have something to focus on other than how empty he feels without you.

“I love you too, so much. I - I can’t stop thinking about you. Tell me you’re okay. Tell me what you’ve been doing.” He’s rambling a little. Salty tears spill onto your lips as they twist into a sad smile. If he wants to hear that you’re okay, that’s what you’ll tell him. The lie comes just as easily to Jake as it had in the promise you had made to Allen.

If you’re brave now, you’ve got the chance to make things right.

…

@alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @someinsanefangirl @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter @shawnsblue @itsmytimetoodream

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

loved the beach Jake drabble!!! It got me thinking about one of the daggers ACTUALLY catching him full on in the act (if that's something you'd wanna write of course xx)

YES I DO, YES YES YES - also thank you sm, glad you liked it!!!! disclaimer for this one: i know nothing about the us military so. haha. if he'd get fired for this um. ignore it.

as always, feel free to keep requesting (here)!

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

It's risky. You're well aware.

But it's also late. And you're pretty sure no one's coming back into the locker room anymore.

So you don't say no. You don't even say maybe. You just cross your arms behind Jake's neck and pull him down to you before he can finish asking if you're sure.

You've got him out of his flight suit in half a minute, let him work his fingers into you for about two more and then mewl so pathetically into his kisses that he chuckles and gives in to your pleas.

He's thrusting into you a few moments later, your legs wrapped around him, your fingers tangled in his hair, scratching down his neck, your back against the cold metal of his locker, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down your chest - sloppy, wet and quick, all of it.

You're needy and whiny and entirely too close too fast as he rubs circles against your clit, your moans carrying far and deep into the empty room.

"Jake", you whimper, over and over, strung together incoherently as he hits all your sweet spots, groans into your skin and sinks his teeth into your throat. "Just like that."

His skin is so warm under your fingertips, so easy to drag your nails along, and he's doing everything right, everything, and you're so needy, so desperate, so close-

"Holy shit!"

Jake freezes and snaps his head around and you genuinely feel like your soul leaves your body for a second there, your heart thumping against your ribcage so hard and fast that you wouldn't be surprised if it jumped right out of your chest.

Over Jake's shoulder, you can see Bradley standing in the middle of the room, phone in his hand and door wide open behind him.

You'd been far from hearing the door open.

You'd been far from hearing anything.

Bradley's mouth has fallen open and his eyes are so comically wide that he looks straight out of an animated movie. He stares at you for one, two, three seconds too long.

You stare right back.

Nobody moves. Nobody says anything.

Then Jake presses his palms against the locker next to your head, shields your body with his.

"Get! Out!", he seethes, enough anger in his voice to snap Bradley out of his trance, who immediately throws up his arms in surrender and spins on his heels.

"I'm going! I'm going! Sorry!", Bradley calls out in blind panic, nothing short of sprinting out of the locker room with an unintelligible string of what you think are probably another few hundred sorry's.

You gawk after him for too long. Much too long.

So long that Jake drops his head against your shoulder and takes in a shaky breath.

You're panting as well, heart still racing too fast and too much adrenaline pumping through your veins. The reality of the situation takes a while to sink in.

There'd been a risk of getting caught, of course. But a risk that you'd kind of dismissed in the first place, because the squad had already left when you'd sneaked into the men's locker room after Jake.

And now... Now, Bradley had actually caught you.

He'd caught Jake fucking you against the lockers, plain and simple.

"Shit", you mutter. Jake pulls his head back and looks at you. He's still inside of you, his hands still caging you in, his lips still kiss-swollen and smeared with your lipbalm.

His eyes roam your face. You let him. You wouldn't know what else to do anyway. So you just let him take you in and slowly try to calm your breathing.

Then, softly, he presses his lips against yours - just once, touching briefly, lingering for a second too long. Your eyes flutter shut instinctively, waiting until he kisses you a second time, then a third, then a fourth, each one longer and longer and longer. You've stopped counting when his tongue brushes along your lips and you part them eagerly, scratch your nails down his neck again.

When he starts moving, you're meeting his thrusts - deliberately at first, but the desperate need for him hits you like a wave and within minutes, you're moaning again, whining and whimpering as his kisses get sloppier and his fingers drop to your clit once more.

Tomorrow, you'll have to deal with Bradley and the squad, who he's probably already texting frantically. But tonight, you'll take Jake home and he'll make you forget about all of it for a few hours.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Just What I Needed - Jake Seresin x Reader

a/n: here's the part two to Got My Mind Set On You, as requested by @mamachasesmayhem 🤍 this can also be read as a standalone fic!

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

warnings/content: literally smut with no plot. p in v, fingering, praise kink, calling Jake by his rank.

word count: 1.3k

taglist: @avengersfan25 @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @dempy @b-bradshaw @ahopelessromanticwritersworld

The car ride home from the bar had been quiet, Jake’s hand resting firmly on your thigh the whole way, his fingers grazing the inside of your thigh just enough to make you sweat. You felt a fire beginning to brew in your core in anticipation - you knew exactly what this meant. From the moment you started teasing him in front of his friends, using his attraction to you to make him lose his game, you knew what you were doing. 

Jake pulled into the driveway, pulling his hand away from your flesh as he killed the engine. He got out of the truck, and for a split second, you almost wondered if he was mad at you - you knew it was all an act though. He opened the passenger side door for you, grinning as he offered his hand out to help you down. Instead of helping you graciously to your feet, however, Jake pulled you in as close as physically possible, your back arching against the arm he’d wrapped around you for stability. He gave you a passionate kiss, the kind that left you breathless, gasping for air but all the while, desperate and hungry for more. 

He let go of your frame, your light-headedness from the kiss making you feel unsteady on your feet for a moment. As you regained your balance, you began heading for the door, Jake’s hand delivering a playful, yet firm tap to your ass as you headed up the steps. You squealed in delight at his touch, prompting him to do it again.

You giggled as you kicked off your shoes at the door, secretly thanking yourself for deciding on platforms at the last minute, making it easy to ditch them as fast as you could. Jake’s tall, muscular frame pressed into you, backing you up against the wall of the hallway. His hands wandered up and down your sides as his mouth found yours, locking you in with a passionate kiss. He nipped at your bottom lip with his teeth, grazing the sensitive skin ever so slightly. 

You moaned into his kiss as his hands reached up for your chest. He grasped at your breasts, squeezing them firmly as his large hands cupped them over your shirt. He grunted as he kissed you hungrily, lips trailing down your jaw. A mess of hot, sloppy kisses made their way to your collarbone as Jake continued to knead your breasts with his hands. His mouth peppered the tops of your exposed breast with more hungry, open-mouthed kisses, each one feeling a little more desperate than before. Jake’s actions made it clear - he needed you. He craved you. 

His mouth trailed its way back to your ear, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin as he spoke in a husky whisper. 

“Fuck, sugar, I can’t get enough of you,” he rasped as his hands made their way to your hips, gripping them tightly as he held them against his own. 

Jake got down on his knees, grinning up at you before roughly shoving your skirt out of his way. He positioned himself between your legs, his tongue licking a painfully slow, sensual strip up your wet folds, collecting the arousal that had begun to gather there. He hummed his lips against you, sending a shockwave through your body as you felt his mouth vibrate on you. A loud whine escaped your parted lips as you placed your palm flat against the table beside you to steady yourself.

“Fuck, Jake!” you cried out as he drew soft circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue. 

“Tastes so fuckin’ good, hun,” he mumbled against your skin before pressing his lips to your clit, sucking at the sensitive nub before pulling away, panting. “So fucking good.”

You could practically feel Jake’s smirk against your skin as he spoke. Your mind raced as he pressed two of his thick, long fingers into your dripping hole, thrusting them into your g-spot with precision and skill. You cried out his name again in the midst of a flurry of moans and curse words, unable to concentrate on anything but the pleasure building within you. 

You felt your thighs begin to tremble and shake as you drew closer to your orgasm, a sign that Jake had picked up on as well. You could feel him smirking against you again for a brief second before he began fucking his fingers into you harder, faster. His lips made contact with your clit again, alternating between hard, powerful sucking and slow, gentle tracing with his tongue. 

“Shit, Jake, fuck,” you managed to get out before you felt your walls clench around his fingers tightly.

“That’s it, you pretty little thing. That’s my girl,” Jake purred as he continued to pump his fingers into your core. 

He pulled them out of you, leaving your arousal dripping from you. You looked down as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with his mouth before pulling them out with a loud pop. He grinned up at your flushed face, a sense of pride in his eyes as he claimed responsibility for the mess he’d made of you.

He stood to his feet, broad hands fiddling with the belt buckle on his jeans while you tried to pull yourself together as best as you could. His belt hit the floor, the sound of the metal buckle clattering against the hardwood echoing through out the house. Jake shimmied out of his jeans and boxers, kicking them off in a desperate frenzy. He stroked his hardened length, a bead of precum forming at the tip. You smirked at him, swiping the white pearl off the head with your thumb before wrapping your hand around his cock, stroking it with just enough pressure. 

Jake grunted and pushed your body against the wall, causing you to let go of him. He roughly grabbed at your thighs, cupping your ass in his hands as he lifted you up, back firmly pressed to the wall. Jake pushed his tip past your swollen folds, groaning as he felt your pussy stretching around him.

“That’s m’girl, making room for me t’fit, huh?” he drawled, refusing to move his hips until you responded. “So tight, honey girl, you feel so fuckin’ good on me.” 

“Jake, please,” you whimpered desperately, hopelessly trying to grind your hips against him to urge him to start thrusting.

“Mhmm? Can’t hear ya, pretty girl. Speak up,” He teased as he pulled himself out of you slowly, leaving just the tip inside of your pulsing cunt. 

“Please, Lieutenant Seresin,” you whined. 

“That’s better, atta girl,” Jake praised as he thrust his hips forward, his cock pounding into you. 

He began to fuck you rhythmically, his hips moving faster and harder, thrusting deeper each time into you. Your walls began to tighten and clench around him, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as you gripped him tightly, screaming his name out. Jake let out a deep growl as he pumped into you, a sign you knew meant that he was getting close. The usually mouthy pilot could easily be reduced to nothing but a grunting, babbling, pussy-drunk mess. 

“Fuck, you feel like fucking heaven, feel so fucking good,” he rambled, his thrusts becoming sloppy and erratic as he came inside of you. 

Breathlessly, he pressed one of his palms flat against the wall as you set your shaking legs back down on the floor. His olive coloured eyes blinked twice, trying to pull himself together. Jake reached a hand up, wiping the sweat beads from his brow before raking his fingers over his flushed, rosy face. He looked at you, a glazed expression in his eyes as he admired you. 

“That’s my girl,” he said calmly, smiling blissfully as he put a hand on your cheek. He lovingly stroked his fingers across your flushed, warm skin before leaning in to kiss your forehead. 

“That’s my girl.”

[theharddeck]

can't unfeel that // Jake Seresin x fem!reader

pairing: hangman x reader (no y/n)

synopsis: jake and his FWB are going strong, totally not developing feelings, totally unaffected and happily still in friends territory...in completely unrelated news, Jake discovers a breeding kink

word count: 8k of smut interspersed with feelings

A/N: This fic is a follow up to kinda might, sorta like, love you a little bit; it’s not necessary to read that first, but it is the dynamic (if you haven’t read it, that’s where Jake discovers choking so it’s a fun time) (also the title is another line from the same song). Thank you to @gigisimsonmars for the inspo and beta-ing, and @laracrofted and @bradshawsbitch for opinions, moral support, and straight up coaching!! 💙

Warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI explicit PiV, unprotected sex, non negotiated breeding kink—friendly reminder this is a work of FICTION oh my god use protection and communicate explicitly with your partner beforehand please please please— f!receiving oral sex, hint on condescension, denied/delayed orgasm, overstimulation…if none of that phases you, there’s also swearing.

This was friend behavior; friends totally go grocery shopping together. 

It definitely wasn’t a big deal that you and Jake were at a Whole Foods, him looking for some kind of weird protein powder while you picked through cartons of blackberries. 

It was absolutely casual that he’d moved into a small house off base, and you were spending the night more often than not.

Your friends with benefits situation was continuing as expected, and the domesticity of it all was not, in any way whatsoever, throwing you off. 

You wrinkled your nose at your reflection in the mirrors over the produce section, wondering who you were convincing. In the mirrors, you saw a man with a child on his hip come up to peruse the bell pepper section, and you stepped aside to give them more room. 

“I’m so sorry to bother, but would you mind?”

You were surprised when the man spoke to you, and you turned to see him sheepishly looking between the rows of bell peppers, and the toddler who wouldn’t let go of her father, her lower lip quivering dangerously each time he readjusted his grip to reach for some vegetables. 

“Of course,” you said, pulling down a produce bag. “What can I grab for you?”

“Actually,” the man shifted the child on his hip, “could you just take her for a minute? My wife sent this massive list and I have like a dozen things I need to get, and it’d just be faster…”

“Oh,” you said, looking at the girl who looked dubiously back at you, trying not to read gender roles and expectations into someone just asking for help. “If it’ll help, sure.” 

“Thank you so much,” the man sighed in relief, handing over the child with little fanfare. The kid looked at you suspiciously, and you settled her onto your hip, not giving her a chance to second guess the arrangement. The man moved quickly down the aisle, pulling out a list to consult and grabbing different vegetables, as you narrated to the child, hoping the steady flow of information would be enough to offset the fact that she was being held by a stranger.

“Did you know,” you told her quietly, “that Brussels sprouts grow on stalks, like almonds? They look like little cabbages, and they’re technically related, I think, but they don’t come out of the ground like that. The pattern they grow in is actually called helical—which I’ve never said aloud until this moment, but it’s the same base word as helix, so I hope I got it right—around the stalk…”

You rambled on as the father continued to dart up and down the aisle, coming back occasionally to drop the bagged produce into the trolley. You heard a familiar footstep on the linoleum, and turned both you and the child towards it. 

“And that man over there,” you told her, smiling conspiratorially as Jake rounded the corner, his boots giving a distinctive cadence to his step, “didn’t believe me when I told him it’s actually Brussels sprouts, with an ‘s’ at the end.”

Jake’s face went on a journey when he found you, then registered that you were holding an unfamiliar child, and his eyes slid over to the father running frantically up and down the aisle. A strange expression settled on his face when he looked back at you, almost frowning, as he walked closer to you. 

“It’s not his fault,” you continued to the toddler, who was watching Jake with open fascination as he approached. “He’s a cretin whose unpopular vegetable of choice is an asparagus.”

“Ha ha,” Jake deadpanned as he stepped beside you, looking between you and the child with that same unfamiliar expression on his face. “What’s this?”

The father chose that moment to reappear, dropping a mesh bag of yellow onions, a carton of fingerling potatoes, a bundle of scallions, and a couple heads of garlic into the trolley, and nodding at Jake before turning back to you.

“Honestly, you’re a lifesaver,” he thanked you fervently, reaching for his kid. She went without complaint, and you briefly envied her unflappability, before you were preoccupied by other things. 

Things like Jake stepping way into your personal space, and leaning forward to brush a kiss on your cheek. You shivered, surprised by the contact, but Jake stared intently at the man’s retreating figure, juggling his daughter and the trolley, either unaware of or unbothered by the heavy gaze following him. 

“What was that?” you asked him, as soon as the man finally rounded the corner. Jake’s nose wrinkled, before he shook his head and stepped out of your personal space. He wasn’t looking at you, but held out the shopping basket towards you, showing a brown envelope labeled Organic Pea Protein on top of the groceries you’d already picked out. 

“I found the powder,” he said, his voice level, and you weren’t sure if you were crazy or if he was suppressing. But Jake didn’t look like he was going to divulge any additional information, so you reached behind you haphazardly, grabbing the first carton of berries your fingers closed on. 

“And I’ve got the berries,” you announced. You checked your selection as you dropped it into the basket, mentally grimacing when you saw you’d picked blueberries.

“You hate blueberries,” Jake said, frowning slightly. 

“Sure do,” you muttered, looking at them, before pasting a smile on your face to look back at Jake. “But we’ve committed at this point. Anything else we need?”

Jake looked at you for a long moment, then shook his head tersely. “Uh, no. No, let’s go.”

You were both quiet as you stood in line to check out, making cordial conversation with the cashier, and then fading out as you carried the paper grocery bags out to the truck. The silence was almost disconcerting, but Jake didn’t seem upset, just like he was focusing intently on something, you weren’t sure what. You were loading the groceries into the backseat behind the passenger door when you realized Jake wasn’t opposite you, and that his bags had already been loaded. You were looking around for him when strong hands closed around your waist, and Jake pulled you to him, closing the door in front of you, before pressing you against the side of his truck. You expected him to turn you to face him, but you braced yourself against the truck when he didn’t, his broad body caging you against the door. 

“Jake?” you asked softly, unsure what he needed, or was looking for, knowing that sometimes it was easier for him to feel you than to tell you. You could feel him drawing in slow breaths from the way his chest expanded against your back, and his hips pressed slightly forward at your soft question.

“Just a sec,” he said gruffly, his voice muffled as he turned his face into your hair. He wasn’t kissing and he wasn’t nuzzling; it just felt like he was grounding himself by touching you, and you knew that, despite trying to convince yourself otherwise by the bell peppers, your heart was in trouble. Because not only only did you not mind, you wish he’d let you do this more. 

You nodded, sliding your hand up the side of the truck so you could rest your face on the back of it, while you waited for him. Jake drew in a couple more breaths, and then his hands on your waist loosened, as he turned you to face him. 

You went easily, arms dropping from the truck to his shoulders, hoping if your presence had steadied him, your touch could do the same. His eyes were stormy, the green of them clouded over by something complicated, something messy, and your hand snuck up from his shoulder to the back of his head, pulling his face down to you. You didn’t kiss him, but you watched his eyes slide closed as you pressed his forehead to yours, and his shoulders dropped slightly. 

“Want to tell me about it?” you asked quietly. 

He didn’t say anything, but you felt him shake his head, his hair scratching your forehead from where it was trapped between you. 

“Want to get out of here?” you asked instead, and this time felt him nod, causing something like pride to well up in your chest, relieved that he’d trust you enough to be able to voice what he wanted.

“Okay, then,” you said, gently as you could, “ let’s go.”

Again, Jake nodded, and you felt his hands tighten on your waist.

“When we get home,” he said, his voice rough, “I’m unloading the groceries. You’re going straight to my bed, changing out of this, and into my old Staubach tshirt.”

Jake didn’t phrase it like a question, but you knew he was asking it anyway, so you nodded. You felt him exhale a long breath against your cheek, like relief, and then he released you suddenly, like he had to do it at once or he wouldn’t at all. 

He stepped away from you to open the passenger door, made sure your feet were tucked in before shutting it, then crossed in front of the truck quickly, pulling the truck out of the lot before his word choice snagged in your mind—home. 

You looked at Jake out of the corner of your eye and he wove the truck in and out of traffic. His eyes were squinted against the bright sunlight, but the expression on his face was unfamiliar to you. His jaw was clenched, and his hands were tight on the steering wheel, and when one dropped to the stick to shift gears, the movement was terse, precise. You wanted to be a more altruistic person, you did, but realistically, something warmed deep in your stomach as you anticipated what that meant for when you got home. 

 When he pulled into the driveway, Jake was out of truck before it’d fully stopped, yanking open your door and turning you to face him, on the edge of the seat. You fumbled to undo your safety belt as his hand on the back of your neck drew your mouth to his, his lips claiming yours in a hungry kiss. 

Your eyes fluttered shut and you reached a hand up to his jawline to steady yourself as he pressed you back against the seat. He kissed you hard, heavy, and you knew there was something he was saying that he wasn’t telling you, but you couldn’t quite read it off his lips. His mouth moved hungrily over yours, then he pulled himself back, pressing chaste kisses on the corners of your lips, your chin, across your cheekbones. 

“Upstairs,” he said, his voice low. “Be ready for me.”

The heat that had been curling in your belly since the parking lot fanned into a flame in his words, and you nodded mutely. Jake helped you out of the cab of the truck (a couple more kisses and a smidge more of that voice, and you probably would’ve slid off the seat), and you walked on unsteady legs towards the house. 

Upstairs, you rooted through Jake’s pajama drawer, looking for the worn navy tshirt he’d requested. You could hear the refrigerator door opening and shutting as Jake shuffled groceries around the kitchen, and you stripped unceremoniously, before pulling the tshirt over your head. The material felt soft, the hem falling just to the tops of your thighs. Jake’s footsteps sounded on the stairs and you darted over to the bed, perching on the edge of it as he came into the room. 

At the sight of you, something softened in his demeanor. 

His shoulders lost some of their tension, even as he pulled in a deep breath, looking at you. Your thighs pressed together as you fought the urge to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, no less unsettling for its familiarity. He noticed, of course, his eyes darting down to your thighs, and an almost-smile growing on his lips.  

He walked into the room slowly, each step measured, and by the time he made it to the bed you were practically vibrating with need. To hear his voice, to feel his touch, to know you’d generated some kind of reaction from him, while you sat fidgeting. 

Jake stopped in front of you, running a finger along the neckline of the shirt, and you couldn’t help but lean towards him. 

“Thank you.”

He said it quietly, and it surprised you. You weren’t sure if he meant for changing, for waiting, for understanding that he couldn’t say whatever it was, but as you met his eyes as he stood over you, you nodded an unspoken ‘you’re welcome’. 

Jake’s hand trailed down the front of the tshirt, his touch warm even through the cotton. His fingers stalled when he reached your breasts, his thumbs passing languidly over you as he confirmed you weren’t wearing anything underneath. Your nipples hardened under his teasing touch, light and unhurried, even as his eyes darkened. 

“So good for me,” Jake murmured, and his hands dropped farther. He tapped the tops of your thighs and you opened them obediently. There was no pretense here, no point in pretending his words and his authority didn’t affect you. As you parted your legs, Jake sank to his knees beside the bed, his eyes flashing as he bent level to your hips.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, his warm breath ghosting over you, the endearment falling from his lips like it was natural, even if it was only when you were like this, “is this for me?”

He pressed a feather-light kiss to your core, his tongue darting out between his lips to taste you and you knew what he meant—you were already glistening with arousal. Jake’s fingers came up to grip your thighs and he inhaled deeply as he spread your legs farther, sending a flush of color across your chest. You always felt desired with Jake, but sometimes it felt carnal, the way he needed you to fill all his senses. 

Another light kiss, another sweep of his tongue, tantalizing promises and teases for the both of you. You leaned back on your hands, braced on the bed, as Jake’s gentle touches continued. It wasn’t at all what you’d expected, this soft exploration, and your hips lifted towards him, asking for more. 

He pulled back.

You whimpered at the loss of his mouth, looking down to see him licking his lips. Jake’s chin was wet, shining with your arousal, and he’d barely touched you. 

“Jake…” you started, your body canting towards him, but his hands on your legs stilled you. 

“Asked you a question,” he mumbled, holding your eyes while he leaned in to place another chaste kiss on your cunt. His lips closed over you, his tongue curled against you, and you trembled at the dark look in his eyes. 

“Yes, fuck,” you breathed, and Jake sucked where his lips had sealed, a reward. “All for you, Jake, only you.”

He hummed, the vibration causing your head to fall back as he placed another maddeningly controlled kiss on your core. He lapped at you slowly, pulling your arousal into his mouth, savoring your taste, taking his time. You realized you were trembling, your body shaking as Jake took what he desired, finding his pleasure between your thighs. 

He kissed you, again, again, a soft trail up to your clit. When he rolled his tongue over that tight mound, your arms gave out, one of your hands tangling into his hair while you fell back to your other elbow. 

Jake chuckled against your core. 

“Need something, sweetheart?” he asked, licking a long stroke up your cunt. Your back arched and you cried out as Jake smirked into you, his tongue circling your clit. “Use your words.”

“More,” you gasped, your hips bucking into his touch. “Please, Jake, I need more.”

“More?” Jake asked, his voice low, and his teeth brushed over your clit as he sucked. You moaned, and Jake soothed you with more light kisses before you felt him shifting. A moment later, a thick finger traced along your folds, and you nodded feverishly. 

“Please,” you begged, “I need—”

“Oh she needs, does she?” Jake mused, and you whimpered as he pulled back. You felt his cheek press against your thigh as he watched his fingers pulling through you. He spread you with his hand, holding your folds apart so he could lick deeply into you. The pressure of his tongue, the sureness of his touch, it felt so good, but it wasn't anywhere near enough.

And he knew it, the asshole.

“Yes, please, I—” you broke off with a yelp when Jake pinched your clit. He leaned in to soothe it with another frustrating kiss, but your body echoed with the throbbing pulse. 

“Most people would be grateful to have their man on his knees, wouldn’t they?” Jake said, his voice muffled as his lips trailed over your core, but the teasing derision still present, sending a tremor through you. “But not you, hmm, honey? You want more.”

Your breath caught at his words; surely he hadn’t meant to say your man. 

He wasn’t yours like that, hot as it was for him to say it…but the illusion of it was enough to set your reeling. You looked down at him—hair mussed from your fingers, pupils blown wide from your taste, shoulders panting as he chose between air and more of you—and this afternoon you liked the idea of him being yours. 

“Greedy, greedy girl,” Jake chastised softly, when you didn’t correct him, but if you closed your eyes, you could pretend there was a fondness hiding in the gentleness of his voice. 

He thrust two fingers into you.

You arched off the bed, a wail falling from your lips as Jake curled his fingers inside of you. 

“And I take care of you, don’t I,” he said, kissing your cunt sloppily as his fingers worked in and out of you. “Every damn time, satisfy this needy pussy, this fucking perfect cunt.” 

The stretch of his fingers, the wet drag of his tongue, the dirty sting of his words, washed over you and you moaned as he wrecked you. 

“Yes, Jake,” you practically whined. “You’re so good, you feel so good, please—”

“That’s right,” Jake gritted, his fingers working faster. He thrust into you, stroking your walls and kissing it better with his warm mouth. You felt your thighs shaking and heat building in your center and you didn’t remember falling back onto the bed, but you didn’t remember anything other than the torturous, teasing, all consuming need that Jake was stroking between your legs. 

“Fuck, honey, squeezing me so tight,” Jake panted. “You gonna cum for me? After all that needing, you gonna let me make you feel good? Come on, sweetheart, let me have it; it’s mine.” 

His fingers continued stretching you, thrusting into you with perfect, intoxicating, precision and Jake leaned closer to your core again. His nose brushed against your clit before his lips closed around it, sucking messily, and you felt the building pressure inside of you shatter. 

You heard yourself sobbing like something in a dream, distant and echoing, but all you could feel was the tremors wracking your body, and Jake’s tongue pulling you through it. 

“Pretty girl,” Jake was murmuring between kisses. “You’re so damn beautiful, all the time, but when you come for me it’s something else. You did so good, sweetheart, so good, and you taste like fucking heaven…”

You whimpered as your head cleared, pulling weakly at his hair as he continued to kiss your sensitive core. 

Jake continued to lap up your release, unrelenting, unsatiated, and you both groaned when he eased a finger back into you. 

“How we doing, sweetheart,” he asked, and when you opened your eyes, he was watching you carefully. You realized he was holding his finger still inside of you, and it was your hips pulling him into you, rocking into his hand. 

“Good,” you whispered. 

Jake nodded, and his finger curled. “That’s my girl.”

His words soothed over you, and you felt them settle warmly over your skin, the same as when he’d called himself your man. It was probably pheromones, nothing more, but God it was a lovely thought. 

“Sweetheart…” Jake’s voice was quiet, dangerous. “You know what that look does to me.”

This was happening more often than not, little moments where you wished for more, and Jake had to remind you that that wasn’t the deal you’d both agreed to. You clenched your eyes shut again, trying to make it go away. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. 

When you looked at him again, Jake’s forehead was pursed in a frown, and he shifted his weight to climb up onto the bed. He lowered himself over you, his hard body pressing over your soft one, and his mouth found yours. He kissed you and you tasted yourself on his tongue, even in the gentle insistence of this kiss. 

Jake pulled back, his lips trailing along your jaw, your neck. 

“Don’t apologize, honey, please don’t,” he whispered against your skin. “I can’t…please don’t.”

And you pressed your lips tightly together to trap the words, but when he pulled back to look at you, you knew you couldn’t look, not without showing him what he didn’t want to see. You could feel him watching you carefully, gauging your reaction as he added another finger inside of you. He groaned when you clenched around him, his hips rocking into you slowly as yours spread wider, to cradle him. 

“Feels good, Jake,” you gasped, loving the weight and motion of him.

He sucked on your neck, nibbling lightly and letting go as he rocked into you again. “Why’d you have to do that,” he mumbled into your collarbone, “look at me like that, then tell me it feels good. Makes me want to keep you, honey.”

Your hips stuttered against his, even as you knew he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t. Before you could ask and before he could take it back, he surged up to kiss you again. There was something almost frantic in his kiss, desperate enough that you knew this was it, whatever had gotten into him back at the grocery store. 

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, pulling his fingers out of you, settling his hands on your waist, squeezing tightly to orient himself. His face was buried in your neck, hiding, even as his clothed hips rutted harder against you. 

“Tell me what you need,” you asked, one of your hands coming up to card through his hair. He shivered, this enormous pilot, shivered at your words and your touch. He pulled back to look at you again, carefully, for a long moment. 

The afternoon sun was fading, and he looked golden in your arms, crouched above you. He hadn’t pushed your hand from his hair, and you smiled when he moved his head, adjusting where you were scratching him, working up the gumption to say whatever it was he needed.

“Can we pretend?” he asked at last, his voice holding something almost vulnerable. “I…maybe I can explain it later. But for now, can we just pretend?”

You didn’t know what he meant, but, irrationally, you trusted him anyway. If this was what he needed, and you could provide it, then you would. You nodded, and he let out a slow breath, nodding back. Beyond that, he didn’t move, looking almost uncertain with what to do next, so you pushed at his shoulders lightly. 

“Let’s start here, yeah?” you prompted, pulling his shirt over his head. 

Jake helped you, shifting to his side so you both could work on getting his pants off. Then he was in his boxer briefs, and you were in his shirt, and then he pulled that off of you too. The air was thick for a moment as you lay looking at each other, waiting. 

You ran a hand down his chest, over the smooth skin and coarse hair, thickening as you trailed lower. You brushed your fingers over his length, straining against his underwear, and looked back up at him through your lashes. 

“Don’t you want to fuck me, Jake?” you asked softly. He nodded, eyes closing as you ran your hand over him again. 

“More than that,” he whispered.

He felt good in your hand, hot and thick, and you watched the outline grow as you waited for him to finish the thought. 

You felt him brush some of your hair out of your face, before he said quietly, “Want to get you pregnant.”

You froze.

When you looked back up at him, Jake was watching you closely and your heart felt like someone had it in a chokehold because that was what he’d meant by pretending?? You’d mentally prepared for some variety of roleplay, maybe even an admiral or rank kink, but this? You, just with a future together?

While your mind was screaming that it was unintentionally cruel, your body was sighing that it was so. Damn. Hot. 

You had an IUD so it wasn’t a possibility, but the fantasy was admittedly one that sent a pulse of need straight through you.  

“Color,” Jake asked softly, and you bit your lip. 

If you said no, he’d be apologetic, probably fix you a bath or go downstairs, give you some space while he fixed something from the grocery run earlier. You’d eat together, pretend it hadn’t happened, and he’d help you get back to base, whatever you needed. Unless what you needed was to be here with him, like this, only not pretend. 

It was that simple, wasn’t it: there was no way you were walking unscathed away from knowing how Jake fucked you when he wanted a future with you. 

But you looked at him, into his soft eyes that were waiting for you, hoping for you, and there was only one word in your mind. 

“Green,” you whispered. 

Jake’s eyes closed. 

The hand that had brushed your hair away settled on your neck and he pulled you to him. 

“Thank you,” he said, and before you could process that, he kissed you. 

This kiss was different. 

It wasn’t possessive, it wasn’t hungry. It was almost tender. It was gratitude, honest and insistent, pressed against your lips as Jake thanked you for something he had no way of knowing you wanted.

It was too gentle, but when you tried to deepen it, Jake held back, soothing you with soft caresses. His hands were light on your shoulders, your waist, the side of your face, embracing you with more than just his kiss. You melted into it, the gentle slide of his mouth against yours, his sweet taste, the strength of his arms around you. Jake kissed you until he felt you trust him with it, and then he rolled you both over.

He settled over you, his long body draping over yours, and you wanted to melt into the bedspread. Your arms were wrapped around him, pulling him closer to you, and one of your hands ran over his stomach to slip into his underwear. You hummed into Jake’s kiss as your fingers wrapped around his cock, warm and heavy in your hand, and his hips pushed further into your grasp.  

“Honey, hold on—” he muttered against your lips, but you shook your head. His touch was too good, there was too much unspoken, and if you let the tenderness fester unchecked, you weren’t going to be able to handle this. 

You could lean into this, you could do it. You slid your hands around his back, pushing his boxer briefs down to his thighs before your hand returned to his cock. You knew he always got a little worked up when he went down on you, and as you stroked your hand over him, precum beaded on the tip of his cock. 

“Waited long enough, Jake,” you whispered, “want you to fill me.”

Jake drew in a sharp breath at your words, and he nudged your chin with his nose, moving your face so he could kiss up your neck. His mouth was more desperate than focused; you knew he’d leave marks and you tried not to think about why you wanted him to. You shifted under him, moving to guide his cock towards your entrance, brushing against your thighs, slicked with his spit and your orgasm. 

“Sweetheart,” he groaned, words muffled against your neck, a warning and a promise as you ran his cock through your folds. “You’re so warm and I’m not even in you yet.”

“Want to feel you,” you told him, wishing your voice was wrecked because he’d asked you to pretend, not because the thought of him having you like this sent your head spinning. 

“I know, honey,” Jake said, voice low. “Just give me a sec.”

You could hear his breathing, measured like he had to count it, like it was overwhelming for him too. You licked your lips as you lined him up with your core. 

“Come on, Jacob,” you cooed, letting go of his cock and running your hands up his side, settling under his shoulder blades, “don’t you want to breed me?”

“Fucking hell,” Jake swore, and his hips slammed forward. 

Your head fell back as he shoved his cock into you, stretching you, deep and hot and sudden. You whimpered his name as your body ached in the most delicious way, stuffed, full. 

“What’d you think would happen, honey,” Jake said, his voice hoarse, but his tone sharp. His arms caged around you, and he pushed off the bed to pull out slowly.

The drag of his cock through your cunt was devastating, but not half as much as the look on his face, when you opened your eyes. 

Fuck, he looked so good.

Sandy hair in his eyes, expression strained as he held his body in check, his eyes blown wide with desire. His head dropped when he pulled nearly out of you, just the tip still in you, and you felt yourself clenching down on him, needing him. His lowered head draped his dog tags against your chest, the cold metal causing you to gasp. 

Jake chuckled, a rumble of a laugh, and the tags dragged across your chest, then trailed up your neck as he leaned forward while he pushed back into you. You looked down your body, down to where his thick cock, shining with your joint arousal, was pressing back into your entrance.  

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Jake said, and you looked up at him. “That’s right. Look at me while I feed you my cock.”

You whimpered, every impulse telling you to close your eyes, let your head fall, focus only on the stretch of his cock and your body adjusting to him. But you let your eyes burn as you looked up at him, and Jake almost smiled. 

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Beautiful girl, doing so good for me.”

Your nails raked up his back as he bottomed out in you. He felt so deep, like you could feel his heartbeat, or maybe that was just the way his chest was pressed up against yours. It felt like every inch of your body was connected to his, melting into him, as Jake waited for you to adjust. His eyes darted over your face, watching you carefully, and it warmed you just as much as his body over yours. 

“Need you to move, Jake,” you gasped, when you were ready. “Need to feel you move.”

“We’re back to need, are we?” Jake asked wryly, but he rolled his hips, pushing deeper into you before pulling himself back out. He thrust back into you, your body accepting him, craving the push and pull and the fullness of him. Jake set a steady pace, deep and thorough and you felt like every time he pressed into you it was too much, and when he pulled out, like you needed him all the more for it. 

So, yeah, you were back to need. 

“Fuck, those sounds you’re making,” Jake groaned. “You sound so good, sweetheart, I could come just from hearing you.” 

You hadn’t even realized you were whining, each thrust of Jake’s hips punching sounds out of you. A layer of sweat coated his skin, soothing the abrasion of his chest hair as he moved over your and the juxtaposition of it all—his words, his cock, his sweat, his chest—clouded your mind so all you could do was keep making whatever noises he pulled from you.

“But not today, huh?” Jake continued, pushing back into you. “Not today, because today’s not just about getting us there, is it, it’s about fucking filling you.”

You moaned at his words, nodding desperately, feeling yourself clenching him tighter at his words. God, you wanted to feel that, wanted to feel him. 

“‘s that what you want, baby?” Jake gritted, his hips slamming forward. “To be so full of me, with my seed, not just when I can give it to you like this. Fuck, you’d always have me in you, wouldn’t you, carrying me.” 

You felt yourself sliding up the bed, being pushed up by the force of his thrusts. You reached back for the headboard, finding it closer than you’d expected, pushing back to meet Jake, and he moaned.

“That’s right, sweetheart, push yourself back on this cock. You need that don’t you, to milk it till you’re full of me?”

You cried out as you nodded, needing that, just like he said. Jake swore under his breath, reaching down to rearrange you. He pulled your legs out from your hips, hooking his elbows under your thighs and easing into you again. 

“Jake, fuck,” you groaned, the new angle pushing him impossibly deeper. Pleasure curled hot in your core, stoked higher by the friction of Jake’s thrusts. Your body was still sensitive from your first orgasm, but his cock and his words had you hurtling towards that precipice again, sooner than you could’ve imagined. 

“You too, sweetheart,” he gritted, but he couldn’t know, couldn’t feel this as much as you did. 

“Jake,” you whimpered. “I’m want to come, please—”

“No,” Jake gasped, and your eyes flew open. His jaw was slack, his eyes hooded, but his expression was intense as he looked down at you. His mouth opened slightly when he pressed deeper into you again, but he gained control when he pulled back, your body protesting the loss of him. 

“No?” you echoed, and he shook his head. 

“We have to time it right,” Jake murmured, his cock shoving back into you, “if we want this to stick, honey, you have to come with me.”

Your eyes rolled back, at his words or from the steady press of his cock. “Jake—”

“Count us down, sweetheart,” Jake said, voice stern. He braced his hands on either side of you, his arms shaking as he held himself in check, but his expression steady. “I’ll get us there, but you tell me when you need it.”

Fuck, you were pretty sure you could come just then, if he told you to. But you bit your lip and nodded, rewarded by a slow push as Jake rolled his hips into you. 

“Ten…” he prompted.

“Ten,” you repeated, not sure if you could make it that long. Jake pulled back as he stroked out of you, and you heard him spit a moment before a cool wetness covered your clit. 

“You look so beautiful,” Jake whispered, his thumb brushing over your clit. “God, how unreal you’re going to look carrying my child.”

“Nine,” you gasped, your vision blurring as his finger worked over you.

“Fuck, with your stomach all round,” Jake broke off as he thrust into you sharply, “filled, carrying my child...”

His thumb moved in a circle with delicious, maddening pressure, and you moaned as his words settled over you. “Eight.”

“These tits,” Jake leaned forward, his shoulders pressing your thighs flat against the bed and his mouth closing over your breast, messily kissing you, “they’ll be fucking swollen, won’t they, as you get ready to nurse our child.”

Your back arched off the bed as his tongue worked over you, mirroring the motion of his thumb. His mouth was wet and warm and perfect, and heat pulsed through your body. You could feel everything and you keened as you tamped it down, knowing you had to wait. 

“Seven,” you managed, and Jake hummed, you could feel it. 

“So soft, swollen, and all full of milk,” Jake mumbled, switching to the other breast. “And when you’re aching and sensitive, I’ll be there for you—bet you’ll taste so sweet like that, won’t you, darlin’.”

The thought of nursing Jake was stunning, and you moaned when you realized he was sucking at you, nipping and miming milking your breasts. You felt your body tighten, your toes curling and you shook your head against the pillow. 

“Six; I’m not going to—”

“You’ll make it,” Jake soothed, releasing your breasts and shifting back, returning his attention to your clit. “You’re doing so good for me, sweetheart, I know you can do it. Just a little longer, have to make sure you’re ready for me.”

“Five,” you gasped, “I’m ready, Jake, please–”

Jake pressed more firmly on your clit, stealing your words as your breath caught. “I don’t know, honey—you’re doing so good for me, but it’s a big fucking load. That’s what you need, that’s what I need, so much fucking cum, to get my girl pregnant.”

You could only moan, surrendering to the feelings and emotions he was caressing out of you. Your skin felt white hot, and you could feel your legs trembling; it was only a matter of time before you lost control entirely. 

“Four,” you whimpered, and Jake thrust into you again. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothed, his own voice tight as he fought off his orgasm. “You’re milking my cock so good, honey, can you feel it? Feel how hard you make me, how bad I need you, how I need to fill you?”

His rhythm faltered as his pace sped up, his cock plunging into you. Jake grunted at the top of every thrust, a sound of deep satisfaction that curled through you, gave you strength you didn’t know to hold off, to wait for him, to do it together. 

“Three,” you cried.

“That’s it, sweetheart, because I do need to feel you, need to fill you, pump till you’re full of me and see me dripping out of my pretty cunt. Christ, you feel so good, you’re so good, how are you—”

Jake broke off, his hips slamming into yours, his cock reaching a place that had you seeing stars. Your eyes rolled back and you reached for him blindly, anchoring yourself with a hand in his hair, the other closing around his dog tags, moving with him as he thrust over you. 

“Two,” you moaned.

“Almost there, sweetheart,” Jake groaned. “Almost there, almost time for me to fuck a baby into you. Fuck, you’ll be such a good mama, won’t you, so smart and beautiful and glowing when you’re carrying my child, all contented because I gave you everything, always will, and you can’t leave then, not with my seed—tell me you’re close, honey, are you almost there?”

“Jake,” you wailed, your count forgotten as your body trembled, his words closing around your heart like a vice. Jake’s pace was bordering on erratic, rhythm lost, his sweat dripping down to your joined bodies every time his hips met yours. 

“Gonna give you a baby,” he gritted, “but you have to come with me, come with me now, please, fuck, sweatheart—” 

Jake came with a shout, hoarse and sharp and he pressed his hips into you. He pulsed inside of you, his hips shuddering, and you could feel his cum streaming into you, hot and deep and what you needed. His head dropped to your chest as his body loosened with his release and you felt your orgasm break over you, like a thousand fuses lit at once.

The room swam, blinding light and senseless heat, pulsing over your skin like a heartbeat, and your awareness was distilled to him—Jake. 

Jake’s beautiful groan when he finished, echoing around in your head, the holiest sound you’d ever heard. 

Jake’s hips stuttering weakly against yours, thrusting even after he’d cum, like he couldn’t stop. 

Jake’s voice, hoarse, whispering words you couldn’t discern, phrases you must’ve heard incorrectly, promises pressed against your skin. 

Jake’s hands, shaking with the force of his orgasm, but smoothing over your skin, checking you, soothing you. 

The light faded and you fell back into yourself, into your wrung out body, drenched in sweat and pleasure. The room felt hazy, heavy, and you realized Jake had matched his breathing to yours. You reached down, pushing the sweat-dampened hair off his forehead, smiling reassuringly when he looked up at you. 

You could see it on the tip of his tongue, wanting to ask if you were okay, but he held it back, and you watched him shut down the part of him that was nervous about what had just happened. 

“Hi,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. 

“Hey,” Jake said back, clearing his throat. “Um, I can get a towel—”

“Can we stay?” you asked, hoping it didn’t sound too desperate. You just needed a minute, just a moment to bask in the warmth of what you’d pretended to feel, before your mind could catch up enough to pretend it away.    

Jake hesitated for a moment, before nodding, and gently rearranging your legs, laying them down beside him before he shifted onto his back, pulling you with him. You went easily, resting on his chest and drawing a deep breath, thankful for the borrowed moment. 

He probably wasn’t pulling out to avoid making a mess, knowing a washcloth was far away, but you could almost imagine it was because he craved the closeness as much as you did. 

As you settled against his chest, one of Jake’s hands came up, absently running up and down your arm. You thought it had to count for something, the ‘friends’ part of ‘friends with benefits’, so you steadied yourself before you asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Jake’s hand stilled, then resumed its slow brushing as he petted you. You knew he knew what you meant—you weren’t asking about the sex, you were asking about before.

“Not really,” he said quietly. 

You’d expected as much. “Okay.”

Jake’s fingers drummed against your arm, and the room was quiet again. The sun was setting, casting the room in an orange light, like the inside of a lamp. 

“I mean, if you want to, we can,” he hedged, after a minute. 

You scoffed. “That doesn’t mean much; I always want to talk with you.”

Shit. 

The words had slipped out before you could stop them, and you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing you could take them back.

“We can ignore that,” you mumbled, and Jake chuckled softly, before sobering.

“If I tell you why,” he said, “can we ignore that, too?”

Ignoring and pretending, how you’d always expected falling in love to be. 

Even though no one could see you, you rolled your eyes at yourself, and your malaise. You nodded into Jake’s chest, knowing he could feel it. 

His hand was back to stroking your arm, like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. 

“You kinda looked like that kid,” he said. 

Your heart stopped. 

“What?” you managed.

“At Whole Foods,” Jake said, “when you were holding that little girl. I just came around the corner and it was like…like I saw a whole parallel life, one where someone married you, gave you kids. And I’d just walk by you in a grocery store, without knowing. Hell, even knowing, you looked like a family, like you fit together, like…”

He trailed off and your head physically ached as your mind whirred, processing his words. “Jake, she didn’t look anything like me.” “Her hair was similar,” he continued, a stubborn lilt to his voice, and you knew he wasn’t looking to be reasoned out of this. 

“Okay,” you said, wetting your lips, waiting for Jake to finish the thought.

Only he didn’t. 

He simply lay there, with you, his hand moving gently up and down your arm, seemingly content.

“So you decided you wanted to roleplay us getting pregnant?” you prompted, when it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything else. 

Jake sighed. “I hated it.”

You jolted at his words. “What?”

“Shit no, sweetheart, not that,” Jake said hurriedly. “Not what we—no, are you kidding, that was so damn hot—I meant seeing you in the store. With him. And holding her. It…I don’t know, it made me mad it wasn’t me.” 

You pulled in a sharp breath, trying to find a platonic way to interpret that. 

You could feel your heartbeat in your temples, so loud you couldn’t think, much less rationalize and you pushed yourself off of his chest. Your hips ached as you spread them again, settling your knees on either side of Jake as you looked down at him, still joined. Jake’s expression was guarded, but he let you look, shifting his shoulders on the pillows but meeting your eyes. Without your arm to stroke, his hand fell to the top of your thighs and resumed its motion there; you could tell the silence was making him nervous. 

Well, that made two of you.

“I need you to be so fucking honest with me, Jake Seresin,” you said, proud of the way your voice was steady. “What does that mean?”

A hundred emotions flashed across Jake’s face before you could name them, and then he pushed himself up, settling you firmly on his lap as he brought his eyes level to yours. 

“It should be me,” he said, “not with a kid, per se, and not just in Whole Foods, but people should look at us and see we fit.” 

And then he kissed you.

For a moment, you were frozen. 

This couldn’t be happening. 

It had to be a weird, sex-induced dream where Jake told you he was jealous of an absolute stranger, jealous enough to admit he had something dangerously close to feelings for you. 

But even as alarm bells sounded in your head, you knew this wasn’t a dream. 

Because your body was sore in a very real way, the man in front of you was flushed, his fingers digging into your thighs with nervous tension, and he was kissing you carefully, so carefully, like he could pull back at any moment if you told him to.

Like hell. 

You leaned into him, your hands wrapping around the back of his head to pull him closer to you. You felt him relax, felt his shoulders loosen and his arms wind around your waist, pulling your body flush against him. And this kiss was new, it was different, it was excitement and a little bit of embarrassment, at the foolishness of waiting so long. 

You broke away, panting, and Jake rested his forehead against yours, his chest heaving. In the orange light, he looked gilded, too good to be true, like maybe he was Midas but you didn’t care if your skin turned to metal, so long as he didn’t stop touching you.

His long lashes fluttered, and your heart flipped at what you read in his green eyes as he opened them. 

“Jesus, Jake,” you muttered, teasing, “you could’ve just told me you wanted to go steady.”

He chuckled, a warm low sound that you felt shake his body at the old-fashioned phrase. 

“Yeah,” he said, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple, “but then we would’ve never discovered you had a breeding kink.”

Your jaw dropped and you pulled back, sputtering. “Excuse me—” 

“I know, I know,” Jake shook his head, grinning, incorrigible. “But admit it: you loved it.”

You snapped your mouth shut, trapping the response that threatened to bubble out, words you hadn’t dared think, much less speak, before this moment. Jake looked at you, at your pressed-together lips and eyes that always said too much, and his smile softened. 

“I know,” he said again, quietly, and he kissed you gently. Jake’s arms were tight around you and you leaned into him, letting it—whose kink it was, what you loved, what he knew—all go, knowing there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

//

taglist: @peakyrogers @hangmanbrainrot @wildbornsiren @princessofglitterland @mandylove1000 @daggerspare-standingby @blue-aconite @abaker74 @lt-bradshaw @dempy @callsignvalley @princessphilly @aurora-whispers @mxgyver @mlibbydp @bioodforbiood @thedroneranger

[ddejavvu]

Hungman - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake's camboy endeavors are not unbeknownst to you, and one day you take him up on a teasing offer to join

Requested: ohhh how about thoughts on camboy Jake (screen name Hungman) whose best friend walks in on him after a show and he jokingly invites her to join him next time. she accepts (shocking Jake bc she’s lil miss sweet, shy, good girl) and when it comes show time he finds out just how nasty his bestie can be (I’m talking her begging him to be mean and nasty and “spank me daddy please!!!” which blows his mind). he makes bank that night and invites her back to his bed anytime. show or not.

Contents/Warnings: best friend/roommate!jake, smut (minors dni), rough sex, oral sex (m receiving), AFAB/fem!reader, ever-so-slight degradation, p in v but from the back, penetration, no mention of protection, teasing/joking daddy kink (she says it once to piss him off so it's not really a kink i don't think), camboy!jake

WC: 2.8K / navigation

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

"Jake, I found the rub you were looking for last week, it was only- woah!"

You come to a screeching halt in the doorway, watching as your roommate doesn't seem rushed at all to cover up his bare lower half. He's got a lazy smirk on his face, standing with his sweat-slicked chest on display as his hands hover almost uselessly over his dick.

"Oh, good," He nods, holding eye contact with you as your gaze threatens to slip lower, "Meat for dinner tonight. then. Sorry," He apologizes a moment too late, glancing down at his bare form, "Stream ended late."

"No worries," You give him a small smile, bag clutched tighter in your hands, "Sometimes I forget you do those things, m'never here to see 'em."

"Oh, yeah? You wanna be?" Jake chuckles, reaching for a towel while keeping one hand still over his cock. As big as his hand is, it's no use there.

"Wouldn't mind joining," You shrug, "It would be nice to have some extra pocket cash."

"Joining?" Jake's laugh is even more incredulous now, and he rubs the towel through his sweaty hair rather than wrapping it around his midsection, "Darlin', the day you join me is the day I'll keel over in shock."

--

You march towards Jake's room clad in tight lingerie, black lace snug to your skin.

"Get ready to keel over," You command, stepping over a stray sock in his doorway, "Ready to do this thing?"

"Woah!" Jake's eyes widen as he turns, clad in only tight briefs. It gives you a very intimate view of his clothed cock, and all of a sudden the fabric seems a lot tighter.

"What's the plan?" You ask, readjusting the strap of your bra, "Just, drop down on the floor and fuck like rabbits?"

"Y/N," Jake breathes, chest heaving with shock, "What- what are you doing?"

"You said I could be here," You huff, cocking a hip out and crossing your arms, making your tits pop, "What, you changed your mind? I wasn't kidding, I need money."

"You're really joining?" Jake asks, face the picture of a disgruntled Ken doll.

"No, Jake," You sneer, narrowing your eyes, "I was actually planning on going for a walk in the park. Just wanted to see if you'd join me."

"Alright, alright," Jake's shoulder slump from where they're tensed at his ears, "No need to get snippy, missy."

You see his dick twitch. He likes snippy.

After a bout of awkward silence, Jake gestures to a camera set up on his desk.

"Camera's there," He reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, "Not on yet, though. We're gonna go live, so I can't edit out your face. You got a mask, or something?"

"Nah," You shake your head, "Not unless you want me wearing your helmet."

"That's-" Another dick twitch, briefs straining to contain him, "-not a bad idea. But I probably shouldn't use government-issued equipment for porn."

"No fun," You lament, striding over to the bed and crawling onto the mattress on your hands and knees. You're fully presented to him, ass up and head down, wriggling your hips as you wait for the beep of the camera.

"So," You shimmy, "Anytime soon, big guy?"

"You're really ready for this?" Jake asks, hovering by the camera with an uncertain gaze.

"Just-" You huff, straining to meet his eye with a desperate look in your own, "Fuck me, Jake!"

His eyes darken, his jaw clenches, and you swear his briefs nearly rip.

"Okay," He murmurs, low and dangerous, and you hear the click of the camera's recording button.

"You," Jake drawls, sidling up behind you and gripping your hips in his strong hands, "Have been a very naughty girl."

You scoff at his stereotypical porno-style dialogue, playing along anyways, "Oh, yeah? What did I do, daddy?"

You hear his breathing hitch, and his fingers dig harder into your flesh.

"You've been watching my streams," He murmurs, dangerous and accusatory. Your stomach bottoms out, you have. You aren't sure how he's figured you out, but you have, and until now, you'd thought you were getting away with it. He wasn’t hard to find, and you have to give him credit for his creative screen name: Hungman.

"All this time," He hums, slowly smoothing his hand over the fleshy globes of your ass, "You've been buried under the covers in your room, those pretty little hands of yours sinking in your cunt, huh?"

Then, after a moment of silence, he hums, "Yeah?"

You nod, almost shamefully, and you're given a sharp smack to the ass in response.

It makes you cry out, and your voice blends with Jake as he roars, "Answer me!"

"Yes!" You yelp, breathing heavy as you push your ass further towards him, in search of another surge of pleasure, "Yes, I- I've been watching your videos."

"And last week," He drawls, rubbing your sore ass with his massive, rough hand, "Caught me damn near naked. You think I didn't see how flustered you were? Think I didn't notice how tense those shoulders were, huh?" Jake's large hand moves up your back, squeezing at your tight shoulder. You gasp at the feeling, his fingers prodding at sensitive muscles.

"This whole time," He stalks around to the front of the bed, cock out and hard near your face. It makes your mouth water; you nearly choke on your drool.

"This whole time you've been thinkin' about me, haven't you?" Jake asks, running a soft hand through your hair, "Fingers buried in that wet cunt of yours, stuffin' a shirt- my shirt in your mouth to stop from moanin'."

"How do you-" You stammer, but Jake cuts you off, hand tightening in your hair.

"I saw you." He reveals, "'Came in to give you your laundry. You left the door open, baby. Did you want me to see?"

"No," You shake your head, but it doesn't go far with his hand in your hair, "No, I- I didn't know you were home."

"Didn't know," Jake scoffs, dick stiff, "I walk like a damn elephant, Y/N. You knew."

"I didn't mean for you to see me," You insist, but oh, you did, "Honest, Jake, I swear!"

"Don't swear," He sneers, letting go of your hair to lean over and swat at your ass again, "This is what you wanted, baby. This is it," He slips a hand under his hard cock, pushing it towards your face, "Take it, darlin'. Take it, this is what you wanted."

You lean to the side, tongue already out in anticipation of taking Jake's dick into your mouth. But the second before you can get a taste, though, he backs away a step, leaving you open-mouthed and whining.

"Look at that," He chuckles, reaching with his free hand to grip your jaw, thumbs hollowing out your cheeks, "So desperate. You opened right up for me, baby."

"Mhm," You struggle to speak through the grip Jake has on your cheeks, "Yeah. Want your- your cock, Jake."

"Filthy," He scoffs, releasing your face to land yet another smack against your ass. You let out a broken whine through pursed lips, but you feel the head of Jake's cock bump them, and you're opening your mouth eagerly once more.

"Take it," He scoffs, "You want it so damn bad. There," He jerks his hips forward, jamming his dick so far into your mouth that it's nearly down your throat, "That good enough for you, baby? That what'cha wanted?"

"Mhm," You nod vigorously, mouth subsequently sliding up and down the shaft of his cock. "Thank you," You pant around his length, words mumbled and drooly, "Thank you, Jake."

"Good manners," He praises you with a cocky glance towards the camera, "Showing off for the audience?"

You give your hips a wiggle for the camera, and your ass jiggles with the movement. Jake groans, fisting a hand in your hair once more, "Come on baby, don't tease."

He tugs you further onto his cock with the hand he's tangled in your hair, and your throat constricts without warning, an involuntary gag. You choke, spluttering and coughing as he barely lets up, hand not only pulling your head forwards but pushing it down, too, fully taking your mouth with his hard length.

You run your tongue against the underside of his cock and curl it up around the tip. It's difficult to do with how deep he's buried inside your mouth, but you rear back against his hold and take a gulp of fresh air with the motion of your tongue. When your wet muscle flicks through his slit he hisses, hand nearly ripping your hair out.

"God," He gasps, this time using his grip on your hair to pull you off of his cock, grunting and groaning as you chase after him with your mouth, "Ease up, darlin'. Easy, I- I've gotta get inside you."

The only way you'll let him take his cock out of your mouth if is he puts it inside of you. You go limp, knees already tired and arms even worse. But nothing deters you from the excitement of being fucked from behind by Jake.

When you feel his large, rough fingers tug at the strap of your panties, you expect them to ghost over your ass. But they plunge for your cunt instead, prodding at the end of your slit.

"Ah!' You seize up, stiff as you try getting a glimpse of him, "Jake, I-"

"I don't have the patience to work you open," Jake apologizes, thumbing gently over your tight asshole, "Your cunt's already wet, darlin', just- god," His fingers hit a gush of slick and slip easily into your pussy, "I need to be inside you now."

"Okay," You nod, panting as Jake's fingers nudge roughly at your clit, "Oh, god, Jake, just- fuck me!"

"Don't make me spank you again," He grumbles, one hand guiding his dick towards the end of your slick slit, "I am, brat."

"Yeah?" You wriggle your hips, egging him on, "Can't feel you yet. Maybe you don't have as big of a dick as I thought, cowboy."

Jake chooses to show, not tell. In a quick second, his cock is rammed so far into your cunt, you see stars. Your only warning had been the soft stretch of his thick fingers, but this, this is rough, aggressive, demanding.

"Feel it now?" Jake spits, leaning over your back to sneer against your ear, "'S rippin' your pretty little cunt open, darlin'. Still think it ain't that big?"

"Use it," You grunt, gritting your teeth so that you don't moan. You don't want him to have the satisfaction of getting to you, "Move. Fuck. Me."

You're not the only one good at following orders. Maybe it's the navy training in him, but he's obedient, but he rears his hips back, his thick cock dragging deliciously along the walls of your wet, hot cunt.

He sets a merciless pace, jackhammering his hips into your own hard enough to split right through your cunt and jam his dick up through your throat. His balls slap against your thighs, and the speed at which he rams into you shakes the bed, his headboard slamming repeatedly against the wall.

"There," He grits, breath hot against your shoulder "You happy? You're pretty demanding for a bitch on her hands and knees."

"Harder," You beg, finally letting a strangled moan slip through your lips, "Harder, Jake, I need more!"

"Gonna fuck you through the wall if I go harder," Jake scoffs, nipping at your earlobe. He reaches up to pinch your clit between two rough fingers, twisting and teasing the oversensitive bud, "What about that, baby? That better?"

"Ah! Yes," You gush, drilling your hips backwards as Jake's pinch turns to circles over your clit, "More, Jake, I need- I need more!"

"More," He mimics you, bumping his lips into the side of your temple so that you turn and raise your head to try and meet him. It's killer on your neck, but it's the only way you can mouth desperately at his lips.

"So damn greedy. Is that what you were moanin' into that shirt of mine, darlin'? Beggin' for more, for the real thing?"

"Yes," You pant, lips pressing desperately to his own, over and over again from that awkward sideways angle you're barely able to reach, "Yes, Jake, I- I need you!"

"Tell them," Jake urges, parting from the sloppy side kiss he'd attempted and grabbing your face in his free hand. One is still circling your clit, but that means that his weight is on you, and you're barely able to hold yourself up with him on top. He yanks your head to the side, putting your drool-covered chin and fucked-out face on display. He's wearing a cocky smirk. but you can't see it, and only when your face is in position does he plant his hand back on the mattress and take his weight back.

"I need you, Jake," You moan, pathetic and desperate to the camera. You feel Jake's dick twitch inside of you, and his fingers circle faster at your clit. It sends a surge of arousal so powerful rolling under your belly that you nearly cum right then and there, but it fizzles out to wait for another wave.

"Ah! I need you," You repeat, babbling with a half-open mouth now, "I need you, I need you, I need you so bad, Jake!"

"Agh," He grunts, teeth biting and nipping at your bare shoulder as his hips jerk forwards even faster, a near-impossible pace, "Yeah? Yeah, oh fuck, scream for me, baby, come on."

His cock is rock hard, leaking, twitching, and slamming into your most sensitive spot. You let a steady flow of whimpers and moans fall from your lips, but as Jake's dick pistons harder in and out of you, they turn to screams.

Jake's cum floods your cunt. There's no other word for it than flood, it gushes from his tip and gets slammed into your cunt, having nowhere to go but out. You feel it ooze around his shaft, and it's sticky and hot against the walls of your cunt as he chases his high. He does fuck like a rabbit, hard and fast, and the feeling of him milking his dick in your pussy sends you over the edge with another rolling surge of pleasure.

"Ah!" Your mouth hangs open, eyes squeezed shut and thighs trembling with both the force of your orgasm and the effort of holding yourself up. Your climax makes your cunt spasm, and Jake feels the way your cunt squeezes his cock, clenching relentlessly and sporadically as you get fucked through your own high.

"Oh," He pants against your back, lips pressing to your dewy skin, "Oh- Oh my god,"

"Fuck," You hiss, finally slumping forwards where you'd been arching your hips backwards to get more of Jake's length in your cunt, "Oh, fuck! Jake," You breathe, "I- God, that was good."

"Mhm," He hums, dick still nestled snugly inside your cum-filled cunt as he takes a moment to breathe. His hand falls from your clit, and his forehead presses to your back before he breathes, straightening up and alleviating the pressure of his weight against you.

You have no problem collapsing your elbows and letting yourself slump to Jake's mattress. You're drained, and you can barely remember to keep your face turned towards the camera as Jake pulls out of your cunt. Once he's out, you let your knees straighten, your hips falling to the sheets below.

"Jesus," Jake huffs, thumbing at the puffy lips of your cunt and smearing some of his cum against your ass, "I made a real mess of you, darlin'."

"S'okay," You grunt, too spent to care about any clean-up, "Just- turn off the camera and come lay with me."

You do hear the click of the camera, and a few stray keyboard strokes. But your eyes drift shut, and they only reopen when you feel something warm and wet against your cunt.

You almost wish it was Jake's tongue, but it's not. You're too tired for that now, you think, but it's a suggestion for a later date.

It's a washcloth, and you must have been too hazy to hear the sink water running from the bathroom. Jake cleans up your puffy, stiff entrance, placating you with a warm hand on your thigh when you squirm and hiss at the sensitivity.

"I know," He croons, wiping away the last smear of his cum against your ass, "I know, darlin'. It's over now, you can sleep."

"No," You whine, reaching blindly for him, "You too, cowboy."

"Alright," He chuckles, soft and tired, "C'mere."

He tugs you to one side of his bed, and crawls over you to the other. He gathers you in his arms and you let him, limbs going limp as he tucks you against his chest.

"We made a ton of money," He informs you, lips dotting against the tip of your nose. He rubs his large hands over your back, a soothing gesture that helps you slip further towards sleep, "Come back any time, baby. Camera or no camera."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[mothdruid]

Fuck You, Hangman

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x fem!reader

summary: jake had always pissed you off, but today was the final straw. but who knew you had some type of fondness for the resident ass. and even though you never accepted his apology, you might have accepted him. 

wc: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, smut, minors dni, vaginal sex, oral sex (m to f), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names (sweetheart and darling), dirty talk, hate sex turned soft???

a/n: howdy howdy, hangman has been plaguing my mind for a little over a week now. so here we are. i hope you all enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it! 

If looks could cause harm, there would currently be a hole in the back of Hangman’s head. The two of you had graduated together, and you hated him still the same. His laugh, snide comments, and cocky attitude always had you on the edge. You weren’t much of a people person to begin with, but god did this man make you fucking hate people. 

“Ain’t that right?” 

“Shut the fuck up, Hangman.” The words came out of your mouth before you could even think. Your eyes connected with Fanboy’s before fleeting over to Rooster’s. Rooster shot you a look of concern while you stared at him. 

“What was that? Got something to say?” Hangman boomed as he stood up. You rolled your eyes, hearing his baritone voice grate against your ears. You got on your feet, deciding you had to show your own dominance.

“Yeah, I do. You need to learn when to shut the fuck up.” Hangman’s lips curved down in frown as he stopped in front of you.

“That’s rich coming from someone who doesn’t really talk.” You glared at Hangman, grimacing at his words.Payback and Fanboy snickered at the commotion, glad you were finally standing up to Hangman. 

“Not everyone likes to listen to you, Bagman.” Phoenix added in. 

“That true, Viper?” Hangman asked you. He leaned into your space, trying to get right up near your ear. You shifted slightly, trying to show your irritation as he started to talk. “Cause if it was, why didn’t you say anything prior?” 

An irritated look covered your face, clearly showing that you were down with his bullshit today. You placed your hand on his shoulder and leaned in near his ear. “Cause I thought I could deal with it. Shocker, I can’t. I'm tired of your cocky attitude and inflated ego." 

You could hear a small snicker from Rooster after you spoke, which caused Hangman to turn his head. Rooster gave Hangman a fake apologetic look before he turned back to you. "That so?" 

"Stop playing dumb, Bagman. You know that all of us have an issue with you, even the 'quiet' ones." You quoted the word quiet with your fingers while you spoke. Jake crept somehow closer to you, your faces only mere inches away from each other. 

"Loner feels more like the right word for you, not just quiet." Hangman said with a smirk. 

"Fuck you, Hangman." With that you spun around, gathered your items and left. Nobody contested your leave, not even your instructor. 

~

“That was uh, quite the outburst.” Your eyes drifted up from your drink to Rooster. You rolled your eyes at him before downing your drink. “Come on. Even I know that it could have waited till after.” Rooster signaled to the bartender, asking for a tall draft beer. 

“Roo, you of all people know how much I hate him. Ever since the first day of training, it’s just-”

“His ego. I know, I know.” Rooster snickered before taking a swig of his beer. Your hand drifted up, silently asking the bartender for another one. The two of you sat chatting for a moment, watching as the hard deck filled up with more people. It had been months since the two of you talked, seeming as this was your first time stateside in a while. Being in Europe had been fun but it just wasn’t the same. 

“Well look who it is.” A hand hit you in the back, a greeting of sorts. You turned to see the only person you could care less for right now. A bright smile covered Hangman’s face, a toothpick sticking out from between his teeth. His hand stayed on your mid back, shifting slightly lower to the small of your back. A heat radiated in your cheeks, the heat from his hand was the only thing your brain could focus on. You rolled your eyes and quickly distracted yourself with your drink. 

“What do you want?” Bradley’s voice had a standoffish nature to it. Hangman turned to him with a slightly off grin. Jake had barely even started to talk and he was already starting to irritate you. 

“I came to apologize, what else would I be here for?”

“Maybe to gloat about yourself.” You tilted your head to look at Jake, wanting to see his reaction to your comment. Jake’s smirk faded a little bit while Rooster chuckled in the background. 

“Sorry Viper, not today. That’s on my schedule for tomorrow though if you were interested.” Jake joked back. At least he was seeing the humor in the situation. After you chugged down your drink you placed some cash under the glass. 

“I don’t want it.” You locked eyes with Jake as you hopped off the bar stool. Your hand collided with his shoulder, patting the firm shape before walking past him. Jake stood there staring blankly forward. Many people had talked to him like this before, Rooster and Phoenix both had long-term issues with him. He couldn’t place why you specifically bothered him so much though. He looked over at Rooster who was sipping his beer. Bradley raised his eyebrows before speaking. 

“Don’t ask me.” Hangman rolled his eyes before turning around to leave the bar. 

The warm air of the night wasn’t as refreshing as you thought it’d be. The sun was starting to set as you walked down the sidewalk, headed towards your rental. Irritation swirled through your mind as you thought about Hangman’s words. Why the fuck did he suddenly decide to apologize? He never wanted to apologize for anything. All you kept reminding yourself was that you were almost home and away from this whole situation for the time being.

As you rounded the corner to your street your home came into view, with it only being the third house on the street. That’s when your thoughts were interrupted by a, sadly, familiar voice. “Hey!” You looked over your shoulder to see Jake trying to catch up to you. You rolled your eyes as you picked up your pace, trying to make it home before he caught up. You shoved your hand into your pocket, grabbing your keys at lightning pace. His footsteps became louder as he got closer. 

“I already said what I had to say.” You griped while unlocking your door. You turned around only to see him right behind you. A sour look took over your face as he eyed you up.

“I didn’t.” 

“I told you I didn’t want to hear it.” The cool air of your home mixed with the outside warmth as you opened your door. You didn’t want to hear what he had to say, but a part of you was nagging to hear it. You walked through the doorway, pausing for a moment before turning around. Jake’s eyes were like emeralds as the sun cascaded on them. The two of you sat there staring for a few moments before you finally spoke again. “It better be a good apology.” 

Hangman nodded, shocking you that he didn’t have something smart to say for once. A woodsy scent filled your nostrils as he walked past you, a soft metallic smell clung to him too. “Shoes off.” Those two words were all you could manage out as you realized you now had Jake in your living space. The situation you were trying to avoid was now in your home. Jake nodded as toed off his shoes. It was rare that you got to see him in civilian clothes, the green flight suit and tan service uniform was all you ever pictured him in. Those outfits always somehow looked flattering on him, which is why his loose t-shirt and jeans looked so nice on him. Were you actually checking him out?

“So,” his voice pulled you back from thoughts, “about earlier today.” 

“What about it?” You questioned as you walked past him, placing your keys on the small hook in the hallway. 

“I’m sorry.” Hangman said, staring at you intently. 

“And? Do you want a cookie for that?” You led him out into your living room, neither of you taking a set. The wrinkles between his eyebrows were a sign of confusion, but you knew irritation would be something to follow soon after. Jake Seresin always got his way, but this time you didn’t care what he wanted. For a moment a part of you wondered why you let him in if you weren’t going to accept his apology. 

“No, I’m trying to be nice.” A soft chuckle passed your lips at his words. “Was that funny?” 

“A little bit.” His face went blank, signaling his irritation was starting to set in. “What?” You started to walk over to him, standing only a few inches from him. “The Hangman says he is trying to be nice. It’s a bit comical.” Jake stared down at you, green orbs burning into your own. “You’ve been an ass the entire time I’ve known you, and now you want me to magically accept an apology? No, I’m good.” 

“Then why did you let me in?” Jake prodded. He stared at you, seeing the orange hue of the sun hit your skin through the window. The room was covered in a cascade of orange. Frustration was starting to boil in him, the longer he stared at you the more frustrated he was getting. But he knew there was something else weaved into that frustration. He watched your eyes flick to his lips then back up. 

There was a slight hesitation from the both of you before it happened. His lips were on yours in a heartbeat, battling for dominance. His hands latched onto your waist, pulling you into him then snaking up your back. The cotton collar of his shirt was bunched into your hands as the kiss continued. Jake’s hands squeezed on your flesh, one hand snaked up your back while the other rested on your waist. 

Adrenaline coursed through the both of you as your make out session continued. The hand on your back moved up to the back of your neck. Jake threaded his fingers into the hair at the base of your head. He tugged your head back, breaking the kiss. “Is this the real reason why you invited me in?” 

“Heh, fuck you.” Jake smirked before smashing your mouth back to his. A clash of teeth and tongue pursued, both of you putting your all into the kiss. One of your hands let go of his shirt and moved up to rest on the back of his neck. The two of you slowly started moving, making your way over to your couch. The two of you collided onto the couch, Hangman sitting up as you climbed into his lap.

Jake’s hand skimmed your waist, slowly lifting up your shirt. Even in the heat of an unbroken kiss, he was still asking for permission. You nodded into the kiss while straddling him, feeling him start to harden against your ass. His hand ghosted up the underneath of your shit, not taking it off quite yet. Jake let out a loud groan when his hand grabbed at your bare chest. You pull back from the kiss as you're grounded your ass, rolling it down on his hips. 

His other hand found its way under your shirt, one hand kneading at your breast while the other kneaded and directed the rolling of your hips. Jake let his head fall back for a moment, focusing on the way you rolled your hips on him. “Holy fuck.” 

Without warning Jake leaned up while grabbing at the bottom hem of your shirt. He lifted it up and you quickly obliged, helping him remove the article of clothing from you. Jake quickly moved forward, kissing at your newly unclothed collarbones and chest. Your hands ran up through his hair as you silently thanked the choice to not wear a bra. One of his arms wrapped around your back and pulled you closer. His tongue flicked one of your nipples before taking it into his mouth. 

“You always go braless?” Hangman smirked as he took your nipple back into his mouth. He let out an intentional moan as you rolled your hips again. The vibrations touched your core as he continued worshiping your breasts. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” The words came out of you like venom. As much as you enjoyed your current situation, the frustration from earlier wouldn’t let up. His hands slid down to your ass, grabbing at it over your bottoms. He started directing your hips in a swirling motion. You leaned back, putting your hands on his knees while you rolled your hips to his rhythm. 

“That green jumpsuit likes to hide the fact you look like a goddess.” The compliment warmed your heart oddly, helping to subside some of your frustration. Jake leaned over to you again to kiss the spot between your breasts. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips as he peppered your sternum with wet kisses. 

Suddenly he pulled you forward, making you collapse into his chest. A haste took over your mind as your fingertips touched the cotton of his shirt, reminding you that he was still fully clothed. “How about we take your shirt off? Gotta see if you look just as good as you do in the jumpsuit.” 

“Trust me, I do.” Jake grinned as your hands darted for the bottom of his shirt. He helped you remove it, shucking it off and tossing it behind the couch somewhere. An audible moan escaped you as you stared at his chest, the orange glow cascading down it slightly. Fuck, it was almost painful to know that you had been missing out on this mans body. “Like what you see?”

You rolled your eyes at Jake’s comment before you wrapped one arm around your waist. Jake picked you up before setting you down on the couch. You scooted up the couch slightly as Jake positioned himself between your legs. It was now his turn to roll his hips. His, now, fully hard cock pressed hard against your clothed core. The whine that came from you had Hangman grinning from ear to ear. “So much for accepting my apology.” 

“This doesn’t mean I'm accepting it.” You spat back at his words. Irritation scratched at the back of Jake’s mind, why did you have to be so fucking stubborn? He smashed his lips into yours again while rolling his hips into yours. One of his hands had a death grip on your hip. The other was near your head, his elbow propping him up above you. The hand on your hip moved to your thigh, hiking it up on his waist. 

Both of your arms were wrapped around his neck, one of your hands trying to hold onto his back. Neither of you were fully nude but everything felt dirty. Who knew that thee Jake Seresin could be this sinful? You broke the kiss by rolling your head back, giving him an invitation to attack your neck. But instead of taking the bait Jake sat up, leaving you cold against the couch cushions. 

Jake rested his hands on the top of your pants, fingers tugging at the belt loops of your pants. For a moment you saw him, the soft Jake that Rooster told you about once. The Jake that actually cared about what other people thought about him. His eyes flicked from your eyes to your waist and back up. “Is this okay?” 

Your hands trailed down to rest on top of his. Then you went to the button of your pants, undoing it then the zipper. “I didn’t invite you in for an apology.” You sat up slightly, putting a hand on the back of his neck and pulling him closer to you. “Jake, fuck me.” 

All you heard was a heavy breath before he smashed his lips into yours. His thumbs hooked into the waist of your pants, messily trying to get them off. You lifted your ass as he pulled them down your legs, helping him as much as possible without breaking the kiss. He made quick work of your panties too before he settled on his knees. He started to trail kisses down your neck and chest while his hand drifted to the apex of your thighs. His finger slipped between your folds easily, wetness gathering on his digits quickly. 

“Is this what I do to you all the time?” Jake whispered against one of your breasts. You let out a moan as he slipped a finger inside of you and he latched onto your breast. He swirled his tongue around your nipple, flicking the wet muscle against it every now and then. His middle finger pushed in and out of your cunt, slowly driving you crazy. 

“Hangman, please.” Hearing his call sign oddly made his cock twitch. It had to be the context, right? Maybe your comment about his ego wasn’t too far off. He decided it was something he probably shouldn’t feed into, at least not right now. 

“You can use my name.” 

“What if I don’t want to?” Guess he was going to have to explore it. 

He added another finger while starting to travel further down your body.Your fingers dug into his scalp as his lips pressed against your pubic bone. All Jake could now focus on was how tight you were squeezing his fingers, making him wish it was his cock inside of you. Jake used his other hand to part your folds before lapping at your clit. 

You weren’t sure how much longer you could last with his tongue flicking on your clit. His fingers felt so good inside of you, prodding at the sensitive area inside of you. It sent waves of pleasure to your nerve ending, preparing you for what was about to come. Within mere moments and another flick of Hangman’s tongue you were coming. His call sign was all you could say, making him wish he was balls deep inside of you already. His fingers kept working you while he lapped at your clit. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging his mouth away from you. 

Jake let out a groan when you pulled him up into a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. He removed his fingers from you and brought them up to your lips. You took them both into your mouth before one of your hands moved to the front of his pants. The thick outline of his cock made your insides flutter. With one hand you undid the button to his pants, slipping your hand inside of his boxers. 

A simple ‘fuck’ was all Jake was able to get out once he felt your hand wrap around his cock. The soft feeling of your palm and fingers stroking him made him rest his head on your chest. His hips had started rocking into your hand, craving more. He quickly gripped your hand and pulled it out of his pants. He pushed you back against the couch while barely pushing his pants and boxers off his ass. 

Another make out session had started when you felt the head of his cock slide between your wet folds. It brushed against your clit, sending shivers of pleasure through you. You arched your back, pressing your tits up into Jake’s chest. The skin to skin contact felt heavenly. You felt his cock press into your entrance. A gasp escaped you as he sunk deeper into you. The feeling of being split open was all you could then of until he was settled inside of you. 

“How are you still this tight?” Jake whispered. He pulled his hips back slightly before pushing in again. Jake sat up a little bit to watch you. Your back was arched and mouth agape. As he started to thrust into you a string of moans started to emanate from you.  

“Fuck, Hangman!” You reached out to touch him, your hand brushing against his chest while the other gripped the side of the couch. It had been months, maybe a little over a year since you had anyone see you like this. Let alone thinking Jake would ever see you like this. Jake grabbed both of your wrists and leaned over you, pinning them to the arm of the couch above you. 

“That feel good? Like when I fuck you?” Jake spat with heavy breaths in between his words. You nodded fervently, moaning loudly. Your hips rolled into his thrusts while you wrapped them around his waist. Hangman kept fucking into you, each thrust harder than the last. The head of his cock was slamming directly into that sensitive bundle inside of you. Your walls kept quivering around him, squeezing him abruptly before relaxing for a few seconds.

Without warning you suddenly felt empty, Jake had pulled out of you. You went to speak before he let go of your wrists and grabbed your hips. “You have to fucking ride me. That’s the only way this is ending.” 

Jake pushed his pants and boxers lower down his legs, the articles of clothing settling around his ankles. A smirk tugged at your lips as you sat up, pushing him back against the couch as you climbed into his lap. You grabbed his cock and guided it back inside of you as you settled into his lap. The both of you moaned in unison as he bottomed out inside you, filling you up to the brink once more. “I fucking hate you.” It was the only thing you could think of to say as you started to ride him. His hands landed on your hips, helping to guide them on his cock. 

“I have a hard time believing that, sweetheart.” The two of you continued to moan and groan as you rode him. A sharp smack cut through the air, followed by a gasp. You let out a moan when Jake spanked you again, your movements becoming quicker. The rough grasp of his hands on your ass was intoxicating. You leaned back, planting your hands on his knees as you rode him. Jake let out a loud groan as he watched you, putting everything on display to him. 

The view of his cock easily sliding in and out of you was maddening. His hands skated from your ass up to your waist, one of them trailing up your chest to your breasts. A moan escaped you when he rolled one of your nipples between his thumb and finger. You let your head fall back as the burning in your thighs started to become too much to ignore. 

“I got you darlin’.” Jake leaned up and snaked his hands up and around your back. Your chest was now pressed flush against his own. Your hands moved to his neck and shoulders, holding on as he started to fuck up into you. A string of moans fell from your lips as he watched your face contort with pleasure. 

“Fuck, Jake!” Hearing his name in between your moans made his thrust hard. He could feel you getting closer, your insides clenching around him tightly. Lips latched onto your jawline as you felt your climax creeping closer with every thrust. 

“That’s it, let go. Give it to me.” Jake whispered while nipping at your jaw and neck. His thrusts didn’t let up as you tumbled over the edge. Your walls fluttered around him as a white hot pleasure seared your body. The head of his cock kept pressing into that sensitive spot inside of you. 

One of his hands moved between the two of you, his thumb pressing on your clit. A choked sound came from you as he started rubbing your clit, trying to get you to come at least one more time. The pleasure from your current orgasm was intensified as Jake rubbed your clit. Your legs started to quiver as he thrusted into you. Somehow, another orgasm was already creeping up onto you. “Jake! I-”

“Come on, I know you can.” Jake’s words were almost like a challenge. A nod was all you gave before your moans became borderline screams. Jake’s thrust immediately started to get sloppy, your walls becoming impossibly tight around him. “I’m gonna come. Do you-”

“You better not pull out now, Seresin.” Jake groaned while you gave him permission to cum inside of you. The grip on your body tightened as his orgasm arrived, his cocking twitching inside of you. You haphazardly tried to roll your hips, milking him of everything he had. 

Both of your movements settled as Jake leaned into the couch, you leaning into his chest. His hand drifted up and down your back, tracing small patterns. The sun had disappeared by now, a darkness surrounding the both of you. Jake tilted his head, looking at your face resting on his shoulder. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple, making you stir and sit up in his lap. Your hands rested on his pecs while you sat there. 

“Hmm?” Jake hummed as he started to feel himself soften inside of you.

A soft smile drifted to your lips as you stared at him. An irritation pricked at the back of your mind, but you pushed it aside. An odd fondness swelled in your chest as you looked at him like this. The side of Jake nobody ever got to see. His fingers trailed up your thigh, swirling little circles on your hips. 

“I- I just didn’t really picture this.” Gesturing between the two of you. Jake let out a small chuckle with a nod. 

“You’re telling me.” Jake let out a heavy breath when you lifted up, his now flaccid cock pulling out of you. It felt weird being empty now. You felt his cum start to fall out of you, making you move for the bathroom. The light of the bathroom illuminated the hallway because you didn’t bother closing the door. Jake rested back against the couch before getting up to join you in the bathroom. 

A soft knock on the frame of the door caught your attention. You looked up to see a fully nude Jake Seresin. A heat filled your cheeks for some reason, seeing him so natural made your heart flutter. “Washcloths are underneath the sink.” Jake smiled before grabbing on, wetting it with warm water. You sat there on the toilet for only a few more moments, watching him clean himself. 

The two of you made your way back to the living room. Jake started to fish for his clothing, finding his boxers and slipping them back on. The both of you sat on the couch in silence for a moment before Jake spoke up. “I’m assuming this stays a secret.” He looked at you, waiting for your reply. He assumed the answer would be yes but a part of him begged it wouldn’t be. 

“I don’t know, Jake.” His hand rested on your bare thigh, which you covered with your own. The two of you looked at each other, a small laugh came from the both of you. You shifted closer to him, resetting your head on his shoulder. 

“I get it if you don’t want others to know.” Jake understood that he wasn’t the most liked person out of their cohort. It didn’t really bother him but he didn’t want you to get shit for it.

“I’d never hear the end of it.” You whispered into his skin as you placed a small kiss on his shoulder. “But I don’t want to think about that right now.” You took his hand in yours and brought it up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. “You can stay the night, if you’d like.” 

“That good, huh?” He snickered while looking at you. 

You stood up and gathered your shirt and underwear, slipping back into them quickly. Jake smiled as he watched you. He started following you down the hallways as soon as you gestured. “Don’t press your luck.” 

“More than I already have?” Jake snickered as he caught up to you. His arms wrapped around your waist, his lips peppering your neck. You wrapped your arms over his while turning your head to meet his lips. It was a soft kiss he gave you. A smile covered your lips afterwards as warmth swelled inside of you. 

“Fuck you.”