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#misskielwrites
theharddeck · 3 months
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do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)
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pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)
synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.
word count: 10.4k
warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.
A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!
You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone. 
It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit. 
But. 
You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.
Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app. 
Quickie During the Rodeo
After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]
Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do. 
You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play. 
Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones. 
You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena. 
There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you. 
“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy. 
“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.
You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer. 
“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter. 
“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering. 
You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.  
“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”
His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip. 
Why did guys in real life never moan? 
It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure. 
“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”
Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low. 
“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”
It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only. 
His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you. 
How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste? 
You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy,  acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin. 
Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.
“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.” 
Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his. 
“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”
Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.
“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?” 
You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper. 
You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you. 
“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”
You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.
“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper. 
He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him. 
“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?” 
You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds. 
Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.
Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you. 
“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”
Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you. 
Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly. 
“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”
You wanted to be his good girl. 
Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy. 
“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?” 
His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against. 
“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”
Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.
A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded. 
“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.” 
You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect. 
“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”
You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–
“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”
You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there. 
“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow. 
Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.  
Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to. 
Rhett was groaning softly in your ear. 
“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”
The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set. 
There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you. 
An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door. 
“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”
You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.
“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”
“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.
You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time. 
Some might even say, with a pep in your step. 
“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed. 
You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat. 
The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly. 
Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on. 
You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing). 
When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.
You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person. 
Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets. 
The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration. 
The hours in the room flew by.
By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.
It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.
"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze. 
It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too. 
It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise. 
It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips. 
It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago. 
“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.” 
Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock. 
Bob was BullRiderRhett.
The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms. 
(Yes, you had an annual subscription).
(Yes, you deserved it). 
When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal. 
In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.
How had you never noticed before?? 
Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?
You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot. 
A knock on your door startled you. 
“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically. 
“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”
You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door. 
“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??
Could’ve been worse, you mused. 
You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.
“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it. 
He looked the same. 
The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you. 
Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills. 
His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them. 
And now you were thinking about that.
“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral. 
He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away. 
“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”
“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”
It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse. 
So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room. 
You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced. 
“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t. 
He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room. 
“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.
You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again. 
You had to say it.
You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it. 
You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep. 
“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react. 
He didn’t, not really.
He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation. 
“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.
“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.
“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”
You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”
Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”
And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?
“What?” you managed again. 
Bob looked at you.
It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you. 
He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly. 
It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him. 
Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”
It was still Bob. 
But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway. 
Of course he did. 
He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately. 
Objectively, Bob was the best. 
You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you. 
“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.
That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you. 
He pushed himself off the bed. 
He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either. 
Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.
“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”
“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”
It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay. 
He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it. 
“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question. 
Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break. 
You kissed him. 
You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer. 
He was so soft. 
The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him. 
You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.
You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention. 
“Can I show you?” you asked. 
He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.
“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry. 
His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely. 
It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous. 
This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him. 
You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard. 
You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.  
It was ridiculous that you were already turned on. 
You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze. 
You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently. 
“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.
You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.
“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you. 
“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”
Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually. 
And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked. 
You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob. 
“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”
It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.
“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered. 
The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them. 
“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”
It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett. 
“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.
“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”
You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard. 
It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.
“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”
You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him. 
“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need. 
“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”
You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch. 
“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission. 
You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations. 
“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”
Were you whimpering?
You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing. 
“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”
You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing. 
“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”
You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it. 
“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric. 
“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”
A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob. 
You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again. 
“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob. 
“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering. 
“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.
“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”
Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob. 
When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking. 
“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did. 
He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled. 
You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him. 
“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.” 
He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him. 
It was better with him. 
His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing. 
“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”
He sounded so good. 
His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there. 
You felt like you were floating. 
Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him. 
“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“
You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.
“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.
He was like sunshine, wasn’t he? 
Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life. 
You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”
Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right. 
“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”
When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips. 
You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you. 
He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself. 
The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner. 
His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin. 
Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin. 
“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned. 
“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.” 
Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had. 
“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless. 
“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”
His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered. 
He wasn’t done, either. 
“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…” 
Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses. 
He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.
This sweet man. 
He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace. 
You loved the feeling of his skin. 
He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you. 
Fuck. 
You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders. 
“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric. 
“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”
He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself. 
While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him. 
He found the condom.
You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick. 
Holy. Shit. 
He looked like a work of art. 
A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big. 
“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.
You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.
“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”
Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl. 
“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky. 
And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat. 
“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”
At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again. 
“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it. 
“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact. 
“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you. 
“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him. 
You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them. 
“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”
You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking. 
You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster. 
“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much. 
He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly. 
“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot. 
“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”
You broke off when he pushed into you. 
A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more. 
Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn. 
Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect. 
Fuck, he felt so good. 
You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon. 
Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked. 
You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.  
“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”
“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”
Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.  
“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”
You couldn’t do anything. 
You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop. 
“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.  
“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”
You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”
Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??
The sounds in the room were dizzying. 
Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core. 
He knew, somehow. 
The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher. 
“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising. 
“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…” 
He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him. 
“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”
You moaned as his words coaxed you back. 
He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop. 
“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant. 
Bob’s hips stuttered.
You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him. 
“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”
You rolled your hips. 
Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you. 
It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you. 
Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips. 
“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”
You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher. 
And then. 
And then he got close. 
He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you. 
You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it. 
When you came back, you were on your side. 
You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.  
“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction. 
“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”
You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 
You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.
//
tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover
chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙
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theharddeck · 3 months
Text
start the new year right (jake seresin x f!reader)
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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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theharddeck · 10 months
Text
i was supposed to sweat you out (rooster x f!reader)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x fem!reader (no y/n)
synopsis: reader is totally not jealous that her FWB is being hit on at the hard deck.
word count: 3.8k
warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: spitting, 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-- explicit PiV sex, a bit of dumbification, m!receiving oral sex
A/N: help i blacked out and wrote almost 4k of rooster smut who even am i listen, i also know it's not original, but i wanted to write frantic territorial sex and this is where it got us. also...don't think too hard about the parallels between this and can't unfeel that okay i'm too repressed to process tysm also yes title is from glitch by TAS
You weren’t jealous. 
Jealous was for people with feelings, and if you had feelings about fucking your team lead, then you were stupid, in addition to giving Uncle Sam everything he needed to court martial you. 
So, no, you weren’t jealous. 
But the tightness in your stomach as a girl sat next to Rooster on the piano was awfully uncomfortable. 
She wasn’t even out of line, that was the worst part. She looked nice, she looked like a decent human, and she was pretty, if you were into the girl next door kinda look. 
Which Rooster historically was. 
She was sitting at a perfectly respectful distance, her sundress was a perfectly respectful length, her face was open and curious and pure and it made you want to stomp over to the piano in the middle of the Hard Deck, and rub yourself all over Bradley’s hawaiian shirt until he remembered that as pretty as she was, he liked himself around you better.
You made yourself look away, tipping your wrist so the soda water and ice remaining in your glass rattled around.
He wasn’t yours. 
You knew he wasn’t, just like you knew jealousy was irrational, but it was hard because sometimes…sometimes he acted like it though. 
Like when you nearly passed out from cramps and he’d brought over a spare set of sheets while he washed yours, and then wedged himself around you in your tiny bed, so you could know you weren’t alone in the pain. Or when he left a lemon lavender cupcake in your locker, even though no one was supposed to know it was your birthday, because you hated the way people made a big fuss out of nothing. Or the way he looked up at you, awestruck and beautiful, every time you came on his fingers, sobbing his name. 
You set your glass down on the bar, louder than you intended, but suddenly everything seemed loud. You didn’t have to stay here, in fact, you needed to get out. Out of the Hard Deck, away from the bright lights and happy people being happy, and no one moping over their fuckbuddies who definitely didn’t have feelings for them–
When the back door opened, you breathed in deep, cool air rushing off the sea and over you and bringing a momentary reprieve. The door swung shut behind, and as it closed, the din of the bar muted, and you let that breath out slowly, wrapping your arms around yourself. You just needed a minute, a moment to calm the hell down, and forget about the distracting man at the piano whom you had no business being distracted by.
You heard the door creak open behind you and you tipped your head back to glare at the universe at large, because without turning around, you knew exactly who had come outside after you. 
“Hey,” Bradley’s voice was just gentle enough to make your heart clench, because it wasn’t his fault that he was so impossibly kind, it had you falling in love with him, “you okay? You ran out of there pretty quick.”
“I’m fine,” you said, sounding just as prickly as you felt, pushing down any sense of flattery that he’d been aware of your presence, and your leaving. 
“You sound fine,” Bradley said cheerily, coming to stand beside you. You wanted to laugh with him because you both knew you were being dramatic, but you also wanted to shove him like you were 5 on a playground, too full of big feelings to know how to handle them. 
“I said I’m fine, Bradley,” you bit out. “Go back inside, okay, I’m fine.”
He was quiet for a moment, and when you looked over at him, you knew it was a mistake. He was watching you carefully, his brown eyes focused and concerned, a divet in the middle of his forehead where his brows were squished together, making him simultaneously the cutest and hottest, and also the most annoying, for being so handsome while he was clearly worried. 
“Honey, we gotta talk about it–” he started, but the endearment broke something inside of you, the way he said it like he meant it, like this was real. 
“I’m not your honey, Bradley,” you snapped, turning to face him fully. “We’re friends, right, that was the whole deal, so let’s not pretend like–”
Something flashed in Bradley’s eyes and a moment later his large hands cupped your face as he crashed into you, kissing your gasped breath out of you. 
It wasn’t your fault your knees nearly buckled. 
It wasn’t your fault that the hands you meant to push him away with instead curled into the material of that stupid technicolor shirt, pulling him closer to you. 
It wasn’t your fault that he tasted like heaven, like rum and coke and intoxicating, and months of habit had you chasing his taste with your tongue. 
You didn’t realize you were walking backwards until your back hit the outside wall of the Hard Deck, and still Bradley covered you. His neck was bent at a horrible angle to meet your lips, but he didn’t seem to mind, melding his body into yours, pressing into you with a familiar urgency. 
His tongue traced over your lips and you opened for him, a whimper escaping you when Bradley hummed with appreciation. His hands slipped from your face to behind your head, his knuckles protecting your head from the scrape of the brick wall, and he rocked into you before pulling back. 
You felt his breath against your lips and you opened your eyes slowly, needing a moment before you could focus on him. 
Christ, he was just so pretty. 
Hair unruly from your fingers, cheeks flushed from kissing you, chest rising unsteadily and his tongue darting out to wet his lips, like a tease. 
“Now,” he said, his voice gruffer than it’d been a minute ago, “are you done riding my dick for something I don’t even know I did wrong?”
It was an expression.
You knew that, of course it was an expression, but Bradley was pressing you into a wall with his demigod body, and he’d said it in that voice, the one you knew how it felt against your skin, so all you could manage was, “Can I?”
For a moment, Bradley looked confused, bless him. 
Then he huffed out a disbelieving breath, like you were too good to be true, lifting a hand from behind your head to rake it through his hair, before looking back at you. 
“You mean that, don’t you?” he asked, his voice somehow even lower. “Out here in the open, you’d let me fuck you?”
You shivered at his words, nodding stupidly, and were rewarded by another kiss. This one was just as unexpected as the first, but Bradley’s lips gentle against yours as he coaxed an answering softness out of you. 
It was too sweet.
Too tempting, too delicious, to let yourself have tenderness that you knew wasn’t real, and you needed to get a hold of yourself, fast. 
Bradley was still being so damn gentle, so it was easy to push his hands away from you, sink to your knees on the sand-covered asphalt outside of the bar. Bradley fell forward, catching himself on the arm braced on the wall, his forehead resting in the crook of his elbow. 
“Honey, you don’t have to–” he started, but his hips bucked forward when your fingers started undoing his belt. 
“I want to,” you told him, meaning it too much to care how breathless your voice sounded. 
Your hand slipped into his pants, palming his length over his briefs and you both groaned softly. He wasn’t fully hard, not yet, but that was better anyways, let you work him up. He was warm, heavy even at half mast, and it took everything in you not to purr when you pulled him out. You looked up at him, tilting your head. 
“Help me out?” you asked coyly, sticking your tongue out, and Bradley’s hips jutted forward again when he realized what you were asking. 
“You’re something else,” he murmured, his voice a heady mix of arousal and wonder. The hand that wasn’t keeping him from hitting the wall traced down your cheek, ending at your jaw and tipping your chin up. 
You were already salivating and when Bradley spit, you moaned, your thighs clenched together as you drooled your combined saliva onto his cock. Bradley grunted, then whispered something to himself as you smoothed your hand over him, the glide made easier by your spit. Already, you could feel him stiffening, and you readjusted to take him in your mouth. 
It was never a gentle fit. 
Bradley was the kind of thick that he always stretched out your jaw, but, God, did you relish it. As your lips wrapped around the head of his dick, Bradley moaned, the most beautiful sound. You loved how vocal he was, loved how he sounded, how he felt. You tightened your lips, tongue swirling over the tip of him, teasing until you tasted a hint of salt in your mouth, and then it was your turn to moan.  
You tipped your head back, encouraging him to slide him deeper into your mouth, your fist twisting around the portion of his cock that didn’t fit in your mouth. 
“Shit, honey, that mouth…” Bradley gritted, his voice muffled in his arm. The hand that had tipped up your chin went around to your cheek, and his hips shifted again when he could feel you hollowing your cheeks out. 
The motion pushed him deeper towards your throat and you gagged, but kept him in your mouth, soothed by the shaky cadence of Bradley’s breath over you. 
“So damn good for me, aren’t you, honey?” he breathed. “So warm and tight; feels so good…”
Your thighs clenched again, and you felt yourself growing wet as his praise washed over you. You held your breath, determined to take more of him, and Bradley grunted as you pulled on his cock with your hand, feeding him into your mouth. 
“Need more, honey?” he asked, somehow still cocky, though you could hear the tremor of desire in his voice. “God, you love being stretched on my dick, don’t you?”
You moaned instead of nodding, wishing it wasn’t true but also wishing he’d push deeper. Your hands flexed on his thighs, still covered in his jeans, but so thick and warm, even through the denim. Fuck, the size of him was overwhelming–his heavy cock in your mouth, those muscled thighs under your fingers…you held your breath and you let go of the base of him. 
Bradley let out a choked gasp as you took him deeper, your nose brushing his pubic hair as he slid down your throat. You were gonna lose your voice and be so damn sore, but it was worth it for the groan that ripped out of Bradley. 
“Fuck fuck fuck–” he gritted, all cockiness gone as he let go of your cheek, bracing himself against the wall. You knew it was taking everything to not rut into you, and you half appreciated it because you weren’t sure you could take it, but you almost wanted him without restraint, just using you, lost in you. 
You hummed around him, and Bradley made a sound you’d never heard before, like a whine and gasp, and then he was pushing himself off the wall, pulling out of you, and wrapping his hands under your arms, pulling you to your feet. 
“Fuck, honey, you wreck me,” he rasped, kissing you almost angrily. You whimpered as you opened for him, and you felt his tongue sweeping through you, searching for his taste in your mouth. 
You felt so empty, too much air and too little of his cock, and you reached for him between you. You felt him jolt when your hand closed around him, stroking over him, and then Bradley was reaching between both of you, shoving his hand into your underwear. 
“How wet am I going to find you, honey? Bet you’re just drenched aren’t you, just that hungry for my cock–fuck.”
Bradley broke off when his fingers swept into your panties, and you gasped at the glorious contact. 
His fingers were so good, thick and long and calloused just right, and he was absolutely correct: you were all but dripping for him. Bradley pulled his fingers through your folds, pulling your arousal up to your clit and petting gentle circles around it. Your head fell back against the wall at his ministrations, perfect to the point of painful, almost forgetting you held his cock in your hand. 
You tightened your grip around him, and Bradley grunted before he matched your pace with his fingers. You felt your knees shaking, and Bradley wound another hand around your ass, before lifting to brace you against the wall. With your feet off the ground, your balance was entirely dependent upon him, and it brought new pressure to the pattern his fingers were tracing over you. 
His touch was maddening. 
Light and knowing, direct and perfect, enough to drive you wild with pleasure but not to get you there, and he knew it. 
“Bradley,” you whispered against his mouth, begged, and the bastard chuckled, but he pulled his hand out of your panties, just long enough to push them to the side, before pulling his lips away from you. 
“Shit, honey, I don’t have a–”
“In me, Rooster,” you snapped, surprised and yet absolutely not surprised by the fact that your eyes felt full. You were desperate for him, it was embarrassing, but you needed him so damn bad, for reasons you didn’t dare say, and if he waited for something else, you didn’t think you could bear it. “Please, fucking please, I need you–” 
“Shh honey, you’re okay,” Bradley soothed, one of his hands brushing your hair away from your face, a gentle thumb wiping at your eyes. His gentleness made you more desperate, your hips canting towards him. “Are you sure?”
“So sure, please,” you whimpered, your face feeling hot, your thighs shaking. God you were coming undone, like you were just a giant nerve ending that was just need, desperate, hunger, desire. 
“Course, honey,” Bradley soothed, his lips brushing against your cheeks, kissing your tears away, his tongue caressing your skin. “I’ve got you, baby, you’re okay.” 
You didn’t think you were, but then his thick cock was at your entrance and you could’ve sobbed in relief. He was hot, you could feel him leaking and you needed him to be so deep inside you. You tried to work your hips down on him, but Bradley’s grip on you was stern, and you couldn’t coax him any faster.
As it was, it still felt like too much. 
The stretch of him, the closeness, the way he knew just how to soothe you and fuck you and none of it was real and even when he slowly worked you down onto his cock, you were still shaking. 
“Please, please,” you whined, trying to move, and crying out in frustration when Bradley didn’t succumb. “Shit, Bradley, please, fuck me like you mean it.”
He growled, fucking growled, the sexiest sound out of a litany of choices, and Bradley’s hips jerked back before he drove into you. Your head hit the brick wall, he was so perfect and he hit you just right, so good, and almost perfect enough to drown out the thoughts in your head. 
“Like I mean it, huh,” Bradley grunted, pulling out, the drag feeling like suction with how wet you were, how tightly you were clenching around him. “Like I mean it when I say you’re killing me, is that what you mean? Like I’m going insane every second this pretty pussy isn’t tight around me, like I can’t think straight if I don’t have the taste of you on my tongue, or know the taste of me isn’t on yours?”
He punctuated each question with a thrust, fucking the answers out of your head, and all you could think was yes and more and please. 
“Oh you like that, don’t you, baby?” Bradley said, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he lifted you higher up the wall. Your back scraped against the bricks but you didn’t care, you couldn’t focus on anything other than the perfect drag of his cock inside you, so close to you. “I think you like that, I think you like knowing how much you own me, how in my head you are, how even when it’s me filling you. You’re fucking everywhere, all around me, all the time.”
His thrusts pushed you higher, bits of sand and brick grating at your skin and it grounded you, centered you so you didn’t come undone at the words coming out of him. 
You were still thinking too much. 
He was so deep, so good, but you still…you reached for him blindly, one of your hands finding one of his, bringing it to your throat. 
“Fuck, honey,” Bradley groaned, his fingers tightening slightly and you traced your hand down the back of his hands, moaning when you felt the veins on the back of his hand. He didn’t squeeze tight, just enough to remind you he was there, and that he could, and just the thought had a coil tightening in your core, tingles spreading through your toes and fingers. 
“Bradley,” you whimpered, tears squeezing out of your eyes. “Baby, that feels so good, feels like yours, please–”
Bradley moaned into your skin, his lips latching onto your pulse point and sucking, and you keened, your back arching off the wall. The stretch of his cock was pulling your panties across your clit, and the driving press of him inside of you was so good, you could barely hear what he was whispering. 
“Is that what you want, honey?” he whispered into your skin. “Want to be mine? That’s what it feels like, honey, it feels like my pussy is so wet for me, dripping for this cock. It feels like my clit is so swollen, so desperate for attention; it feels like my girl’s gonna come on my hard fucking cock…”
Yes, yes that was what you wanted. 
You were already his, he didn’t know it, but hearing him say it had your mind going hazy, and your thighs trembling. 
“That’s fucking right, baby,” Bradley groaned, “I can feel you clenching down on me, can feel my pussy getting even tighter for me. This doesn’t feel like friends, baby, it feels like my girl’s about to come on my cock. 
You were lost, swimming in a sea of heat and sensation and Bradley’s words and you were pretty sure you were wailing, praying no one in the Hard Deck could hear you, but even if they could, you weren’t stopping. His cock was so deep in you, hitting you just right, and you knew what you needed to cum. 
“In me, Bradley,” you managed, your voice a weak whine. “Need to feel you come, please, fill me up with it.”
“Oh, fuck, honey,” Bradley choked, his hand tightening on your throat and his hips working faster. His pace was bruising, overwhelming, perfect and hard and you felt everything in you winding tighter.
“Of course you want my cum, fucking of course, if it’s my pussy, then that’s where it belongs isn’t it? That’s how you should be, stuffed so fucking full of me, dripping out of you, marked like mine, fucking mine–”
He was groaning, gasping, his hips speeding up and driving into you, and all you could do was take it, like it was what you were made for. You were boneless, euphoric, and when you felt Bradley’s hips stutter and his head drop to between your breasts, your orgasm broke over you. Bradley sagged into you, hips working weakly as he thrust his cum into you, and you felt it everywhere, marking you, like he said. You couldn’t breathe without him, only knew you were still vertical because he was holding you, and you felt so warm, so held, so full. 
His. 
You didn’t realize your eyes had closed until you were aware of Bradley asking you to open them. Your feet were on the ground, even though your legs were like a newborn deer, and your back was braced against the wall. Bradley was bent in front of you, brushing away your tears with the back of his hand. 
“Talk to me, honey,” he said softly, and you heard his voice like an echo, “need to know you’re okay.”
You nodded slowly, which mustn’t have been convincing, because Bradley was still fussing over you, like he hadn’t fucked you halfway into a new religion.  
You knew when he saw your back because of the sound of dismay that burst out of him, and then he was pulling off that damn Hawaiin shirt, brushing gravel off your back while your head hung low between your shoulders, still trying to remember how to breathe. 
Satisfied that he’d at least brushed the grit out of your skin, Bradley draped his shirt over your shoulders, protecting them, before guiding you to lean back. He licked his lips as his gaze tracked over your face, and you watched him convince himself to say something. 
“Did you mean it?” he asked quietly, but this time you heard him more clearly. “Would…would you want that? To be mine?”
It was your turn to stare. 
How could he doubt it? How was there any question? Not only after what you’d just begged him for, but before then, always, he had to know how good he was, and how all anyone wanted was to be in the light of his sunshine. 
“Obviously,” you said, your voice coming out as an alarming croak. “But we can’t, we–”
Bradley hugged you. 
It wasn’t what you expected.
After everything you’d just done, instigated by stop-talking kisses, there was something astonishingly intimate about Bradley wrapping you in his arms, enfolding you in his embrace, and you felt him relax when your arms hesitatingly wrapped around him too. He was warm, smelled like fresh sweat and you buried your face in the soft cotton of his undershirt. He held you tightly, and you thought he might’ve pressed a kiss to the top of your head, but then his hand was smoothing over your back, gentle, comforting. 
“We’ll figure it out,” he said, softly. “Together, okay?”
You nodded, knowing he could feel it, and he held you impossibly closer. It didn’t solve it. There were still fraternization rules, still some kind of unofficial vetting process you knew Mav and Ice would put you through, not to mention Penny…but as Bradley held you, you let it be enough.
And maybe it was enough, because, as your body hummed with the reminder of it, you were his.
//
tagging: @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @mxgyver @withahappyrefrain @teacupsandtopgun @lewmagoo @nancyxsorbet @sebsxphia @laracrofted @roleycoleyreccenter @sushiwriterhere @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @callsignvalley @wildbornsiren @hangmanshoney idk most people follow me for hangman and coyote so hope i did okay by roo
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theharddeck · 1 year
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can't unfeel that // Jake Seresin x fem!reader
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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
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theharddeck · 1 year
Text
you stole my heart right off of my lips (jake seresin x f!reader)
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pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin xfem!reader
synopsis: jake and his girlfriend act out his admiral kink (that's it that's literally the whole fic)
wc: 5.4k
warnings: the usual, y’all know the drill—this fic is 18+ due to explicit content, minors please DNI— m!receiving oral sex, rank kink, some degradation and condescension, overstimulation (idk if crying is implicit in that but yes, reader is overwhelmed, folks), unprotected PiV sex, and, le piece de resistance, dirty talk and swearing
a/n: i wrote this in one rabid afternoon, as a follow up to can't unfeel that, which itself is a follow up to kinda might, sorta like, love you a little bit. it doesn't super come up, but reader is a pilot, just like Jake...ty @gigisimsonmars for giving me the idea to work this kink into their established relationship, @bradshawsbitch for letting me brainstorm at you and also making sure i didn’t get carried away, and that one anon who suggested 🐈 slapping.
You paused outside Jake’s office door, smoothing your hands over the crisp white cotton of the apron you wore. It happened to be the only thing you wore, save a pair of heels that normally only made appearances for high school friends’ weddings. 
On the one hand, a generation of suffragettes were pinwheeling in their graves. 
On the other hand, it was your six month anniversary of being official, you were about to act out a fantasy Jake’d shared a few weeks ago, and sorry to those ladies, but if they had six feet of naval aviator on the other side of the door, they'd do the same.
You drew in a deep breath and knocked on the office door, before pushing it open quietly. 
The room was quiet, the clacking of keys echoing as Jake typed away on some kind of report or another. He didn’t look over at you, but his jaw clenched lightly when he heard the door close, already in character. He wore his khaki uniform, which you’d both agreed to pretend had extra stars on the collar and stripes on the sleeve, and square glasses perched on his nose.
“Not right now, honey, I’ve got to get these done.” His voice was lower, pitched that way, an air of authority in the terse words that sent a flush of heat over your skin.
“But I’m bored,” you said, a pout in your voice, “since your promotion, you’ve been holed up in here; I never get to see you.”
“Baby, I–” Jake looked up from the computer, and his jaw slackened as he took in your getup. 
“Jesus, woman,” he said, reverently. 
You smiled triumphantly, toying with the hem of the apron, waiting for him to regain his composure. He cleared his throat, but when his eyes flicked up to you, there was concern in them. 
“Is this okay,” he asked quietly, sounding almost nervous, “like, I know we agreed, but…”
You shifted on your heels, causing the apron riding up your thighs; it was sweet that he was concerned, but when you started dating a military man from Texas, you knew the 1950s housewife schtick would be easy ammunition. 
“Is it working for you?” you asked.
Jake’s jaw clenched again, and his eyes darkened as they ran down your body. “I mean, yeah,” he muttered, torn between embarrassed and turned on.
“Then it’s not too much,” you told him. 
Jake looked at you for a moment longer, and then he nodded, more to himself than to you, turning back to the computer. The room was quiet as he started typing again, and when he looked back at you, his stern composure was back in place.
“If you wanted to see more of me,” he drawled, not pausing his typing, “you’d let me finish my work without interrupting me, so I could finish faster.”
You pushed away from the door, sashaying across the office. 
Each sauntering step brushed your breasts against the crisp material of the apron, combining with the cold of the room to stiffen your nipples. You knew Jake clocked it, his eyes darting over from behind the glasses, even as his head remained angled towards the monitor, keeping a pretense of focus. You walked to behind his desk, turning his chair by the back of it to bring him eye level with your tits. He drew in a sharp breath, and he leaned towards you almost instinctively, before his hands tightened on the arms of the chair.
“It’s not an interruption,” you said lightly, sinking to your knees, “if you keep working.”
“Honey…” Jake’s tone was stern, but he did nothing to stop you as you crawled under his desk. 
The chair squeaked as he turned himself back to the computer, and you settled back on your thighs underneath the desk. It was more cramped than you’d anticipated, but nothing you couldn’t work with. A moment later, you heard the keys start up again, and you lifted your hands to Jake’s thighs. 
Through the fabric, his legs were warm, and your thumbs ran up the inseam along the inside of his pants, rubbing lightly. Jake always sat with his legs spread, a menace on airplanes, but you knew what was between his thighs, so you never complained. Even now, you saw the impression of his cock grow more prominent against the seat of his pants. Smoothing your hands over his thighs, you licked your lips as your hands trailed higher.
“Baby,” he warned, but you didn’t stop your ministrations. It truly wasn’t your fault; you loved the feel of him.
“Come on, Admiral,” you teased, hearing his breath catch at the title, “you can multitask. You’ve been working so hard…let me make you feel good while you finish your reports.”
Your hand made it to the tops of his thighs, splaying out over his hips before your fingers teased his hardening cock. Jake grunted as you traced a nail down the length of him, and he shifted in the seat as your other hand toyed with the zipper. 
“Fine,” he muttered. “You can keep my dick warm while I finish this paperwork.”
You rolled your eyes to yourself, amused that he was taking the angle of letting you give him head. That said, there was something particular in his cadence, as he bit out the words, but you didn’t dwell on it.
“Thank you, Admiral,” you said, dryly, as you unzipped his pants. 
You wondered absently what nonsense Jake was typing into the computer as you slipped your hand into his pants, humming contentedly to yourself as your fingers closed around him. 
Jake drew in a sharp breath as you pulled him out, but he kept typing, shifting his hips slightly while you pushed the slacks down over his hips.
You ran your hand over the hair on the top of his thighs, smoothing over him and then coming up to grip the base of his cock. You fisted him loosely, reveling in the feeling of him hardening further in your hand. You spit into your palm, running your saliva up his length, and you bit your lip when your fingers couldn’t close around him. 
Fuck, he was so thick. 
Hot, heavy in your hand, and you knew how well he’d fill you, stretch you…but not yet. 
You pulled your hand up his length, your thumb brushing over his head. A pearly drop of precum leaked from his tip and you cooed at the sight, before your thumb pulled the fluid down to mix with your spit. Jake shifted slightly, the clacking on the keyboard faltering, but he continued typing as you admired your (ha) handiwork.
“I said you could keep me warm; what part of that was unclear?” Jake asked, his voice sharp as you continued to tease him instead of taking him into your mouth. Something about the cadence was familiar, and it snagged in your subconscious before recognition flashed. 
Holy shit. 
He was mimicking the way Cyclone talked. 
A wave of fondness washed over you at the respect and borderline idolatry with which Jake regarded Admiral Simpson. It was so sweet, and a complete contradiction to the lackadaisical way with which he pretended to regard authority. 
But when your boyfriend’s hand darted under the desk to curl around the back of your head and pull your mouth towards his cock, all thoughts of your commanding officer fled from your head. No, all there was room for was Jake–the musky smell of him, the heat and length of him, the way your mouth was watering as you leaned towards him.     
You reached out with your tongue to lick at him, tasting the salt of his precum as your tongue swirled over his head. Jake let out a low sigh, and your thighs clenched together at the taste of him. Your lips closed over his head, your tongue running along his frenulum as you took him deeper into your mouth. 
“Good girl,” Jake muttered, and you whimpered around his cock as his words sent a pulse of heat through you. He was heavy on your tongue, his salty taste filling your mouth and you pushed yourself further up him. 
When he hit the back of your throat, you gagged, and Jake cursed softly. But he didn’t pull back and neither did you, so after a moment of counting your breathing, you relaxed your throat and took him deeper.
When your nose brushed against the hair at the base of his cock, you moaned, shifting your thighs. 
You felt so full of him, his cock blocking your airflow and setting the world a gorgeous kind of hazy. After you’d held him in your throat for a minute, you pulled back, loving the drag of his cock through your mouth. You released him with a soft pop, spit dripping from your mouth to his tip and your core clenched at the sight. 
God, it was such a pretty cock. 
Thick and long, slightly curved, a long vein running along the side of it. You traced along the vein before you worked over him with your hand, twisting around the base. You licked your way up the length of him before feeding him back into your mouth, working him with your lips and hand together. You could hear Jake’s breathing growing uneven, the sound of his ragged breaths making the ache between your thighs almost unbearable. You drew in a deep breath before taking him deeper, determined to focus on him. You took him to the back of your throat a few times, before Jake’s hand reappeared at the  back of your head.
“Nah, baby,” Jake said, his voice stern, through his breathlessness. “We said no distractions. Now that I’m all slicked up, you’re going to cockwarm me.”
You whimpered, but nodded, knowing he could feel the motion from his grip on our hair. A moment later, his hand was gone, as you relaxed your throat to take him deeper. 
You gagged twice before he was fully seated, but you were determined, and Jake’s soft moan when your nose brushed against his stomach was worth it. 
You were breathing through your nose carefully as he sat heavily on your tongue, your mind going blissfully blank. Your eyes were streaming, and your jaw ached, but it felt so fucking good to have him like this. You felt so full, content and warmed by having him in you, and you blinked slowly, willing yourself to remain still. 
“Such a good girl,” Jake praised, and you heard the stapler click as he rearranged some papers, “choking on my cock while I finish working.”
You whimpered as you felt moisture pooling between your thighs, leaking out of you. Time felt like maple syrup as you sat there, thigh burning, jaw aching, anchored by the weight of Jake’s cock in your mouth. Saliva was dribbling out the corners of your mouth, breathing was a thing you had to trust your subconscious to do; if you thought about it, you were going to choke.
Which was how you ended up accidentally swallowing. 
You couldn’t help it, your throat bobbing over Jake’s cock, and you heard him drop the stapler as his hips jerked forward. You choked, Jake swore, and you heard his glasses clatter on the desk before he was pulling you off him, his hands gripping your upper arms as he pushed his chair back and pulled you out from under the desk. 
You gasped, pulling in air, eyes streaming as you looked down at Jake as he leaned you against the edge of his desk. You whimpered at the look on his face, the green of his eyes nearly lost in the black of his pupils, a red flush over his skin, his jaw tight. 
“What part of ‘do not distract me’ is so hard to understand?” he growled, and you fully whined, shaking your head. Your lungs were still recovering, your skin felt aflame, and you felt so empty, after having had him so deep in you just a moment ago. 
“I’m sorry,” you rasped, your voice hoarse and Jake lifted his chin as he arched an eyebrow. He reached down, flipping up the hem of your apron, and your body jerked as cold air swept over your skin. 
“Jake–” you gasped, but he silenced you with a look as he reached between your thighs. 
He palmed you roughly, his thick fingers spreading through your folds and your hips canted towards his touch. When his hand pulled back, his fingers glistened with your arousal, and he hummed, a low sound that vibrated through  his chest. 
“That doesn’t feel like sorry, baby,” he said, low, and he pressed his fingers against your mouth. He smeared your arousal over your lips, and when you moaned, he shoved his fingers into your mouth. 
“Suck,” he said, and your eyes fell closed as you did, tasting how wet he’d made you, how badly you needed him in you.
“Such a dirty girl,” Jake muttered, pulling his fingers out and returning them to your cunt. “So needy for me, aren’t you? I said you can keep me warm, and you just had to fuck your face onto my cock, didn’t you?”
His fingers pulled through your folds again, gathering more of your slick before he raised his hands to his own lips. You both groaned when he licked his fingers, him at your taste and you at the expression of rapture on his face.
“So fucking sweet, baby,” Jake groaned.  “How am I supposed to stay mad at you?”
You didn’t have words, couldn’t think of any, could only whine at how empty you felt, how badly you needed him, any part of him, whatever he’d let you have. Your eyes hadn’t stopped streaming and you realized you were actively crying, your body wound tight from his touch and his words, and he’d barely touched you.
“Where’s your words, baby?” Jake taunted, his hand falling back to your core. “Sucked my cock so good, you can’t even ask for it again?”
Your hands were clutching at him weakly, and you moaned when Jake palmed you, his broad hand cupping you, and he hummed, approvingly. 
“Baby girl,” Jake said, his thumb flicking over your clit. “I try to work hard, provide for you, but you can’t leave me in peace…have to be choking on my cock, and even that isn’t enough, is it, you need my fingers now, don’t you?” 
You nodded, feverishly, body shaking, and you moaned in relief when he pushed a finger into you. His thick finger speared into your cunt but he barely gave you time to adjust before he added another, and you would’ve fallen back except Jake shot to his feet, planting himself between your legs and pulling you into his upper body.
You draped against his chest weakly, tears leaking into his khakis, whimpering when his fingers curled deeper into you.
“Taking me so well, fuck,” Jake muttered, scissoring his fingers inside of you. “You got so fucking wet from choking on my cock…shit, baby, listen to that hungry pussy.”
The sounds echoed around his office, his fingers pulling through your juices, and your ragged breathing.
“Please,” you whimpered, begged, the unrelenting press of his fingers driving you higher and higher, “please, I’m so close…”
Jake scoffed, adding a third finger roughly, making you wail. “What, you think you deserve to cum, baby?”
You sobbed, either from his words or from the stretch of him, you couldn’t tell. Your thighs were beginning to shake, and Jake laughed again; his hand curled at the back of your neck, cradling you gently, while his other hand was driving you mad between your legs. 
“Interrupting my work,” he said, “dressed like a little slut, practically begging to suck me off and now making a mess on my desk? You think you’ve been good enough to cum?”
You shook your head against his chest, and Jake chuckled darkly. 
“Luckily for you, darlin’,” he muttered, turning his head to press a kiss into your hair, “I want to fuck you more than I want to punish you. So you’re going to come on my fingers, so I can get my dick wet, okay?”
God, that sounded so good. 
Jake was stroking deep into you, and his thumb brushed over your clit, causing your body to convulse around him. 
“That’s it,” Jake soothed, unrelenting. “I know you’re close, let me feel it, baby, come for me so I can fuck that pretty pussy, make room for me, come on now–”
He pressed down on your clit and you moaned, your body collapsing against him as your orgasm ripped out of you. You felt your body go boneless, distilled to the pulsing pressure Jake had stroked between your legs. You might’ve screamed, you might’ve fainted, the office a kaleidoscope of heat and sensation but before you could recover, Jake was already moving you.
“So fucking beautiful, my needy, gorgeous girl. You did so good for me, baby, and you’re going to do better, now, c’mere…”
He sat back down in his office chair, pulling you onto his lap. You went without reservation, limbs still numb from the force of your orgasm, body lax enough that Jake could feed you onto his hard cock, bobbing between you.
Fuck, the stretch of him. 
You felt him in every fiber of your being, enormous and pulsing and what you’d been aching for. Jake groaned as you pressed down onto him, gravity and your orgasm easing the stretch, but still slow. Your heels dangled above the floor, his hands on your waist and his cock deep in you, grounding you like an anchor. When your hips met his, you weren’t sure you could breathe, you felt so absolutely full of him. 
“You with me, darlin’?” Jake asked gruffly, smoothing a hand over your hair as he settled. His voice was tight, and you clenched down on him at the sound of it. You nodded wordlessly, finding strength to push yourself off his chest to look up at him.
“Feels so good, Jake,” you whispered. 
“That’s a good girl,” he said softly, brushing a featherlight finger across your cheek, wiping some of your tears, before his back straightened.
“Alright, baby,” he said, voice low, back into the fantasy, “you wanted this cock so bad, are you gonna fuck yourself on it?”
You felt yourself clench down on him at his words, craving the motion of his cock inside of you. But when you reached down, your feet couldn’t touch the floor, and you couldn’t find leverage to push yourself off of him, much less fuck him, like he’d asked. You tried rolling your hips, but the smallest motion had your clit brushing up against his stomach, overwhelming to the point of pain, combined with how stuffed you were with his cock.
“Can’t…” you managed, frustration lacing your voice, trying to rock your hips again, but the movement produced the same effect. “I need to feel you but I can’t—”
“Shhh,” Jake soothed you gently, his hands smoothing from your hips to under your ass. You whimpered as his strong fingers gripped you, spread you, guided your motion over his lap. With your legs spread over his, when he flexed his hips, he pushed so deep in you you swore you could feel him in your throat. Gentle enough to keep you grounded, deep enough to keep you breathless, Jake fucked you slowly.
“Have to do everything for you, don’t I, princess,” he murmured, his voice low in your ear. You wanted to protest, but it was true; you felt wrung out and weightless and he was the one who got you that way. 
Jake laughed, shortly. “Goddamn, I love it though. This cunt is so tight, squeezing me so good, and it’s so hot knowing you’re so weak for it you can’t even get yourself off, nah, you need me for that too…”
Your fingers wound into his hair as you clung to him, drunk on the feeling of his thick cock inside of you, his strong hands lifting you.
“Need you,” you babbled, repeating his words and Jake grunted when you pulled his hair. His hands drifted up from your ass to the small of your back where the apron was tied. 
“Get this off, baby,” he ordered, and you let go of his hair to mess with the tie around your neck as well. 
The apron fell to the floor and Jake hummed in approval as he leaned back to look at you, naked and writhing in his lap, your heels dangling above the floor. 
“How the fuck did you think you couldn’t be a distraction, baby?” he murmured, leaning forward. His hands returned to your ass, lifting you again, as his mouth closed over your breasts. You moaned, your head falling back, as he pulled one of your nipples into his mouth. He laved his tongue over you, sucked at you, teased you with his teeth and licked over you, and you were lost in the swirling sensation. Your body was still tingling from your first orgasm but when he rolled your nipple between his teeth, you felt it like a chord tied straight in your cunt. You knew you could get there again, but you knew it would entirely overwhelm you. 
Unfortunately, Jake knew it too. 
“What’s this, baby,” he mumbled into your breast as he kissed his way to your other nipple. “You’re already feeling the next one coming, aren’t ya, that needy cunt going to come for me again?”
You shook your head, determined to stave it off, but Jake laughed darkly, his lips closing over you and his cheeks fucking hollowing as he sucked you hard. 
“Too bad it’s not up to you if you come, is it, princess?”
He released you from his mouth, blowing cool air over your breasts and you moaned at the contrast. Jake was back on you in a moment, licking and laving and sucking and nipping at you, and soon your hips were bucking down to meet him, even as your body screamed in protest. 
“That’s right, darlin’,” Jake encouraged, another slow thrust that had you seeing stars. “Chasing after me, even when you think you know better. Don’t be stubborn, baby, let go.”
You moaned, lifting your head to look down at him. What you saw when you opened your eyes—Jake’s hips thrusting his thick cock into you, his eager tongue lapping at you, his hair glued to his forehead by his sweat and his green eyes dark with desire—you couldn’t help it. You ground down onto him as your orgasm overtook you, slow and breathless and wrecking you. Wetness leaked between your thighs, your legs and core quivering, and you were crying again, or maybe you’d never stopped. Maybe you’d only ever been on Jake’s lap, his body worshiping and working yours, taking and giving, demanding and pleasing. 
“Fucking hell, baby, you feel so damn good,” Jake groaned, and you pulled him off your chest, needing a break. Jake obliged and leaned back, looking up at you with hooded eyes, jaw slack as you continued to clench around him weakly. He wore the smuggest expression on his face, even though you could see the tightness in his shoulders, as he kept from thrusting into you harder. You knew you looked absolutely wrecked, sweaty and fucked out, but he looked at you like you were the prettiest thing. 
He thrust up into you, slow and easy, more to keep control of his rhythm, but it pushed a final tremor out of you. You ground down onto him and Jake’s eyelashes fluttered, the prettiest sight.  
“Best feeling in the world, baby,” he muttered, his hands smoothing up and down your back, “that sweet cunt fluttering around me. Think I want to feel it again.”
His words barely registered through the sated heat clogging your brain, but you shook your head, weakly. 
“It’s too much, Jake,” you whispered. “I can’t—”
His hands froze on your back and the smug expression slid off his face before you realized your mistake. Jake pulled out of you, settling you on his thighs before landing a stinging slap on your clit. 
You wailed, your body aching from the loss of him and smarting from the slap, not hard enough to hurt but pointed enough to sting. His thumb soothed over you, massaging your swollen clit and it ached, it was perfect, it was too much, you needed more. 
“Please, I’m sorry, please,” you begged, not knowing if you were asking for him to stop or pleading for him to touch you again, and Jake smirked before his hand connected with your pussy again. You moaned, head spinning, body molten and when Jake lifted you again, you could’ve wept in relief when his hard cock pushed into you again. 
This time his pace was harsh, unrelenting, so fucking deep and strong and you felt like he was rearranging you.
“I am not,” Jake practically growled, gritting out words between deep strokes, “fucking you this good to be treated with disrespect.”
You couldn’t find words, couldn’t react beyond the sounds babbling out of you, as his cock thrust into you. 
“And I am, aren’t I, princess?” Jake panted, his pace increasing. “Fucking you so good. You’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow, not going to be able to do anything without thinking of how deep I am inside of you, so show some fucking respect and call me by my title.” 
He was driving into you, his hips merciless, and your mouth hung open as you shook your head, desperately. 
“Use your words, baby,” another stinging slap to your clit, and your body jolted. Your traitorous body, overwrought and overwhelmed, rose to meet him as Jake’s thick cock pushed deeper into you. 
“Admiral,” you cried, your body writhing, rejoicing, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Admiral.”
Jake groaned, and he pulled you down sharply onto him. His hips were pistoning up into you, his chest heaving as he drove into you, and all you could do was hang on to him. 
“That’s right, angel,” he gritted. “Fucking your admiral like a bitch in heat, and this cunt is gonna come for me as many times as I want, because I know how to satisfy her. Whose pussy is this?”
His words ripped over you, filthy and so perfect, and your body reacted to them beyond reason, clenching down on him. You felt raw and you felt healed; you felt like his. 
“Yours,” you sobbed, “it’s yours, Admiral, yours.”
“Fuck,” Jake choked, and fell back against the chair again, guiding your hips as he continued to rut up into you. “You sound so pretty, baby, why does it sound so good to hear you say it?”
You moaned, wordlessly, your hips responding to his guidance. You could feel yourself dripping onto his thighs, drenching the khakis and marking him. Rationale had fled, in its place was pulsing desperation, a searing need for more of Jake, to be consumed by him.
“Please,” you managed, begging. “Please…”
Jake moaned, a long sound that had your stomach clenching and sent another impossible gush of wetness between your legs. 
“Yeah, darlin’?” he panted. “Fuck, you feel so good, what do you need?”
Your whole body was trembling, completely overwrought and on the edge, but his words soothed something deep inside of you. Though the world descended into fire, Jake would take care of you. 
“Need you to come,” you sobbed. “Please, please, need to feel you—”
You felt impossibly fragile, scattered, but it was okay when Jake’s warm hands smoothed over you. His fingers gripped you tightly and he pulled your hips flush against his as he thrust into you. 
“‘Course, baby,” he groaned, “asking so sweetly, and you’ve been so good for me, you’re always so good for me, fuck —I’m gonna give it you because I know that’s what you need, oh fuck, here it comes, baby—”
You came before he did, his words washing over you in a wave of white hot heat before you even felt his cock twitch inside of you, pumping you full of his cum. You didn’t scream, you didn’t cry; you had nothing else to give and your body shook as you came, obedient, unraveled by Jake’s touch. You were lost, drowning in sensation and the frantic beating of your own heart, unwound and put together by the man in your arms. You felt him around you, vaguely, like a concept. Hands smoothing over your skin, warming you and cradling you, checking you were okay. 
“Oh, baby, baby, you did so good for me,” Jake was saying, his arms wrapped around you. You snuggled into his chest, knowing he knew that now you were sentient again, how close you wanted to be to him. “Fuck, I don’t deserve you.”
“Not true,” you mumbled into his chest, thinking of how impossible it was that he knew just how to turn you inside out, wring every last drop of pleasure from your body, make you feel cherished even when he was taunting you. Your eyes felt heavy and your body was exhausted; you slumped against his chest and reveled in the tight grasp of his arms around you.
“A little true,” Jake mumbled back, kissing your hair. You nestled into him, emotionally contented, but physically becoming increasingly aware that you were stark naked in a cool office. 
You were vaguely aware of Jake taking care of you—noticing the goosebumps on your skin, pulling some tissues out of a drawer to wipe up his cum as it leaked out of you, soothing you when you whimpered as he pulled out. You insisted you were fine, but he insisted on carrying you to the bathroom, setting you gently on the countertop as he ran a washcloth under the warm tap, and set about cleaning you up properly. 
Once you were taken care of, he stripped out of his uniform carefully. He was pretending not to watch you, but you noticed his smug expression fading slightly into concern as you stayed quiet, uncertain if it was sated contentment or discomfort. When he walked back over to you, you brushed his hair away from his forehead, smiling reassuringly. 
“I’m good, baby,” you told him, and his shoulders dropped in relief. 
He leaned back against the counter where you were perched, his shoulder almost touching yours. The fact that he wasn’t pulling you both into the bedroom, for cuddles and sleep, told you there was something else on his mind, so you waited for him.
Finally, he cleared his throat. “The apron thing…you know that’s not…I mean, I don’t think of you like…”
He frowned, tripping over himself as he tried to find the words. You leaned over a bit, nudging his shoulder with yours. 
“We’ve had this conversation before, Jake,” you told him, “it’s about what’s hot, not what’s morally upright. I know you don’t think of me as a sexpot in heels, just around to get your dick wet.”
Jake huffed, but he smiled. 
“Well, not just that,” he mumbled and you shoved him, but you both laughed, before he sobered again. “I just…I don’t know, I know you’re not an accessory to my career, or something. I didn’t think about it before, but like, you could be whatever you wanted to be, you know? Like if you wanted to be a housewife, or if you wanted to be an admiral, you could do it, a hundred percent.”
He was rambling, you knew it, and you cut him off with a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Are you trying to mansplain feminism to me right now, Seresin?”
Jake snorted. “Even I know better than that.”
“Okay,” you smiled. “Jake, in case the three orgasms didn’t give it away, I was into that too.”
He looked at you for a long moment, before his eyes dropped. 
“Yeah?” he asked, a sweet kind of nervousness on his voice that made you lean forward and kiss him. 
“Yeah,” you whispered against his lips. 
You felt him sigh, finally accepting your reassurances, and the soft look of adoration on his face had you feeling like crying. You’d done enough of that today, though, so you cleared your throat, sitting back. 
“So, a housewife, huh?” you said, raising an eyebrow. “Funny way of proposing, Jacob.”
His jaw dropped, and you laughed at his shocked expression, shoving at his shoulder again. “I’m obviously kidding,” you told him, amused, and a smile worked over his features again. 
Jake’s smile grew, the longer he looked at you, but an unfamiliar expression was in his eyes behind it. 
“Obviously,” he echoed, before he pressed his lips together and shook his head. “You know I love you.”
You did, and your heart soared just as much hearing it as it had the first time he’d said it. 
“I know,” you told him, leaning forward to kiss him again quickly. “I love you, too.”
Jake hummed contentedly, and a moment later, he’d pulled you off the counter. He walked you to your bedroom, and you snuggled into his chest, loving the way you could hear his heartbeat.
You’d heard somewhere that human hearts match, that if you listened to a heartbeat for long enough, the rhythms would sync. You didn’t have to take your pulse to know that yours was beating in time with Jake’s, echoes of each other, happy and strong, matching. 
//
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theharddeck · 4 months
Text
santa baby (been an awful good girl) // coyote x f!reader
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pairing: javy coyote machado x fem!reader (no y/n)
synopsis: coyote dresses up as santa + reader is only human = reader and coyote get it on in santa's workshop
word count: 6.6k
warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: unprotected sex, explicit PiV sex, a bit of dumbification, slight overstimulation, lowkey desecrating the concept of christmas but like in a hot way
A/N: i...i have no excuse. thinking of javy being dorky during sex has effectively ruined me. merry chrysler
The second Sunday in December was the tree-lighting at Miramar. 
The event entailed, of course, the lighting of the tree at the center of base, but also a crafts market, an ugly-Christmas sweater competition, and breakfast-for-dinner, but most importantly: a meet and greet with Santa. 
While it wasn’t required attendance for any of the Service members, most everyone who wasn’t on leave found some way to be involved. You found yourself at the cookie decorating station, trying to teach kids a modicum of restraint, and sneaking glances at your boyfriend over in Santa’s Workshop. 
That’s right, Javy Machado – distinguished Lieutenant, Louisiana’s finest, and your personal hero – was currently drowning in red velvet and faux ermine, dressed up as jolly old Saint Nick. His diamond-sharp jawline was hidden behind a monstrosity of a fake beard, but he had managed to master the twinkle in his eye. The night was winding down, but he showed no waning energy, just endearing interest in each and every child that made its way into the small structure. 
You could just barely see him through the front window of the Workshop, but every time you looked over at him, your heart fluttered. 
It was the way he hunched his shoulders, clearly trying to diminish his size to make himself seem less intimidating. 
It was the way he met each child’s eye, exuding comfort and kindness. 
It was how after a couple of minutes, even the shyest child seemed to relax against him, how their smiles brightened and their giggles echoed around the family center. 
You knew Javy was a total sweetheart, but it made you so proud to see how special he was making this Christmas for each of these kids, some of whom were having a dark season with their parents being deployed. 
There was a clatter and you looked away from the workshop to find RJ, one of Payback’s kids, looking guiltily up at you, holding an entire paper plate covered in Snowman sprinkles. The faint outline of a sugar cookie was visible under the blue-and-white pile, but not by much. 
Good thing it was only the ninetieth time this had happened today. 
“Happens all the time,” you said brightly, keeping your voice happy so the kid wouldn’t panic, and thinking of a diversionary topic. “Did you see Santa already?”
RJ nodded, willingly distracted. 
“He said he’d get me a Lego set!” he said, the slight lisp in his voice absolutely adorable. “A Lego set!” you repeated, folding the plate slightly so that you could pour the excess sprinkles into a dixie cup. “One of the Star Wars ones??”
“Yep!” RJ told you excitedly, his eyes widening, the sprinkles dilemma forgotten. “With an X-wing, so I can have a plane, like Daddy!” 
You finished pouring off the sprinkles, and turned the still-overly-sprinkled-but-now-recognizable-as-a-cookie plate back to RJ. He grinned up at you through a missing tooth and you couldn’t help but smile back. 
Payback might be nearly as bossy as Mav when you were up in the air, but he did have damn cute children. 
You were halfway through helping RJ with a sleigh-shaped cookie when the Christmas music they’d been cranking turned off with reverb, and someone cheerily announced over the loudspeaker that it was time for the festivities to draw to a close. Overhead lights turned on, dispelling the ambiance created by thousands of christmas lights, but you were halfway through the cookie, so you two kept working on it. 
What were they going to do? 
At some point, Reuben came over with a couple wrapped packages tucked under his arm, giving you a grateful look for keeping an eye on his son. 
The only warning you had was RJ’s reverent gasp and the widening of his eyes before you felt familiar hands on your waist and an unfamiliar beard scratching your neck. 
“Santa,” RJ breathed, and you tried to delicately step out of Javy’s grasp as he realized he couldn’t exactly greet his real-life girlfriend while there were still kids who believed in the magic of Santa within eyesight.
Javy cleared his throat and you pressed your lips together to hide a smile as you watched your boyfriend stand up straighter under the boy’s worshipful gaze.  
“RJ,” Javy said, his voice pitched lower than normal, to disguise it, and you noticed he was avoiding Reuben’s gaze pretty determinedly. “Doing some serious cookie decorating, I see?”
RJ nodded animatedly, holding up his plate to show “Santa” and nearly tipping both cookies off it in the process. Reuben dove for it, and you tried not to laugh, leaning lightly against Javy. You noticed absently that he must’ve taken the suit padding out, because you could feel his stomach through the red velvet.
Unfortunately, when RJ looked up from his plate, he noticed your lean, as well as Javy’s hand on your hip. He frowned, his small forehead wrinkling, and he tipped his head up at Javy. 
“That’s Coyote’s girlfriend,” he told Javy archly. 
“Uh,” Javy stalled, and you again found yourself fighting the urge to laugh, “yes. And…that’s why I want to steal her away for a moment. Coyote’s been a really good boy this year, and I want to talk about what kind of present he would want.”
RJ’s eyes narrowed, and he was about to say something else, before Reuben gave an exasperated sigh. 
“For God’s sake,” he muttered, reaching for RJ’s cookie plate, effectively poaching the boy’s attention. 
“Let’s show these cookies to your Ma, yeah, Junior?” he asked, before turning back to you and Javy. “And you two– behave.”
He spun on his heel, and RJ waved enthusiastically to you before following his father happily, and you turned to Javy, smiles breaking over both of your faces. 
“Not your most graceful, lieutenant,” you teased him, but Javy was already looking around the recreation center. 
With the overhead lights on, and the Christmas music off, it was rapidly emptying. Teams had already been tasked to come in tomorrow to clean it out, so for now everyone was clearing out, trying to get their kids home before the sugar crash set in, and Javy’s gloved hand found one of yours. 
“Come on,” he said quietly, in his normal voice, and you followed him instinctively when he tugged lightly on your grasp. 
You were surprised when he led you back over to Santa’s Workshop, and you ducked into the entryway. 
It wasn’t a large space, something constructed of red and green painted plywood pieces, barely big enough to accommodate Santa’s throne. The throne itself was a replica of the Iron Throne that Fanboy had paid a preposterous amount for, and had been convinced to donate to the greater good. He had then had to be led away from in agony, as Army Wives sanded down the pointy edges, and repainted the swords as candy canes.
“Nice digs, Santa,” you said wryly, your sentence ending on a squeak as Javy pulled you into his arms. 
Kissing him with the fake beard was funny, but his mouth was distracting enough that you soon forgot. 
You melted into him as you always did, your hands pressed against his broad chest. Javy’s strong arms banded around you as he kissed you hungrily, like he’d been waiting, like he’d been missing you. He tasted like peppermint, like the candy canes the “elves” (Natasha and Jake) had forced on him any time he started looking bored. 
When he pulled back, you were breathless, blinking up at him slowly. 
Javy smiled at you softly, his own chest rising and falling underneath your hands. He was so unbelievably handsome, always, but you loved his sweet smile. 
Especially how it looked from this close. 
“Hi,” you whispered, and Javy groaned, leaning down to kiss you again. 
His tongue swept into your mouth, and your knees almost buckled, causing you to cling to his shoulders. He was so strong, so big, and you knew he loved holding you, nearly as much as you treasured being held.  
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered against your lips, and you felt your skin heat. You were just wearing a festive sweater under a pinafore-style skirt, aiming for comfort and festivity over something that accentuated your figure.
“It’s just a–” you tried, but Javy made a disapproving sound and kissed you firmly, interrupting your rationalization. 
“Beautiful,” he insisted, after a moment, and you nodded dazedly. 
Javy hummed, approving, and he shifted to pull off his gloves. A moment later, you felt his index finger under your chin. He tilted your head up towards him, and his kiss turned gentle, indulgent. 
“I could feel you watching me, you know,” Javy murmured, between kisses. 
 You shivered when his thumb brushed over your jaw. 
“Hard not to,” you managed to say. 
Javy laughed, a low, warm sound, that you felt like a caress. 
“What is it, honey,” he teased, brushing light kisses up your cheek, and ducking his head to reach behind your ear, “the red velvet doing it for you?”
You let out a breathy gasp when you felt his teeth ghost over your earlobe. 
“‘Course not,” you mumbled, but it didn’t sound convincing. 
It actually wasn’t the red velvet. 
It wasn’t even how sweet he had been with the kids, which was pretty darn sweet. 
“What was it?” Javy asked, as he kissed down your neck. 
You shivered as his tongue and teeth teased you. When he reached the collar of your sweater, he nosed it aside, and sucked lightly at the space where your neck met your shoulder.
“The glasses,” you blurted. 
You felt him hesitate, and he pulled back, looking at you amusedly. 
“The glasses?” he echoed, and you tried not to squirm. 
“Well, and the beard,” you admitted. “Not the actual aesthetics, just, like, the idea of them…the idea of older you. Silver fox Javy, you know, graying and—”
With a whoosh, the overhead lighting in the recreation center shut off. 
You turned to look out the window, surprised to find that no one else was left in the recreation center. They had cleared out quickly and the large room was suddenly dark, except for the lights strung around the “roof” of Santa’s Workshop. 
When you looked back at Javy, his teeth gleamed as he smiled.
His hand trailed down his arm till it tangled with yours, and he pulled you deeper into the workshop. 
“Javy, we should go–” you started to protest, but you broke off when he sat on the throne. 
The twinkling lights cast a golden glow into the otherwise dark room, and even in the shadows, Javy looked so damn sexy. He shifted in the seat, his thighs spreading, and planted his boots on the ground. He still held your hand, and you really did feel like you were standing in front of a throne, a queen to his king.
“It’s just us, honey,” he said, his voice deep, and you were having a hard time coming up with a response. Not when he looked this good, not when he was looking at you like that, not when you could already see the outline of his hardening dick against the inside of his velvet suit. 
God, what a thought–velvet and Javy. 
Your mouth practically watered, and when Javy tugged lightly on your hand, you let him pull you. You stood between his spread legs, the throne tall enough that you barely had to bend down to kiss him. This kiss was impossibly slow, leisurely. 
Javy’s hands trailed down your body, settling under your ass as he pulled you closer to him. You whimpered as his touch pulled you flush against him, his body hard against you, and his fingers gripping the flesh of your ass. Your own hands ran over his chest, around the back of his neck, anchoring you to him.
His big hands kneaded your ass, and you whimpered against his mouth when he guided you slightly sideways, against where his dick rested on his thigh.  
You felt your kisses turn lazy as he overwhelmed you. 
His big hands, his strong thighs, his hot cock, his broad chest…you felt your knees weaken as the kiss deepened. 
Javy knew, and he pulled back, giving you space. His hand found yours again, and he led you from between his legs, before reaching under your skirt. 
His touch was slow, certain, as his fingers trailed up your thighs to your waistband, where he found the edge of your tights, and slid them down your legs. He went slowly, and you were grateful for it; your head was spinning and you didn’t feel like you could catch your breath. You watched as he pulled the tights down your thighs, prompting you to step out of your shoes first. 
“Here, honey,” he prompted, guiding you to balance on the thick toes of his boots, so you wouldn’t have to stand on the floor, before he peeled your tights off. 
That thoughtfulness, combined with the determined carefulness with which he undressed you, sent another wave of arousal for you, and you followed his instruction without thinking. 
His hands were back on your legs then, reaching under your skirt again, up and up, and you shivered when his hands ghosted over the front of your underwear. 
“Were you telling the truth?” he murmured, his voice low, and you pressed your lips together to trap a whine inside your throat. “Am I gonna find you worked up under here?” 
You weren’t sure until his fingers pressed between your thighs. 
And then you moaned, you couldn’t help it. Javy’s fingers pressed into your center over your panties, his touch collecting your arousal and you felt the drag of wetness between his finger, the thin fabric, and your skin. 
Javy hummed his approval, and his pleasure had you bowing into him. 
“Javy,” you whispered, not sure what you were asking for, but certain he would know. 
“C’mere, baby,” he said softly, pulling you into his lap, his hands not leaving your panties, but still keeping you covered by your skirt. He guided you over his thighs, your legs spreading to rest in his lap, and you immediately were obsessed with the feeling of velvet stretched over his strong thighs. 
You looked up at his expression, and you felt your heart flutter. 
Christ, he was so beautiful. 
His expression was one of intense focus, but the panes of his face were so gorgeous, all the more for the fondness between the both of you. 
You pressed yourself up to kiss him, knowing you’d stumble over finding the words to tell him. Javy’s lips were so soft, his mouth so gentle, and the hand that wasn’t under your skirt cupped the back of your neck. The tenderness in his touch coupled with the strength in his hands was a heady combination, and you melted into his arms again. 
After a couple long, sweet kisses, you felt his hands move against you. 
You broke away from his kiss, breath catching as Javy dragged a thick finger over your now soaking panties. 
“You’re so warm here,” Javy murmured, his voice almost reverent, and your hands splayed over the red coat, grasping whatever you could. The pressure of his hand and the deep timbre of his voice were enough to drive you mad, and he knew it. 
“You feel so good, honey, so inviting…” Javy continued, and he pushed your panties aside. 
You whimpered at the first brush of his fingers against your core, slickened by your arousal, and warm against your skin. Your fingers scrambled to undo the red coat, fumbling with the buttons until you had the jacket undone, and you could feel the familiar cotton of his white undershirt. 
It wasn’t enough, you needed his skin. 
“Off,” you mumbled, and Javy chuckled as you pulled weekly at the bottom of his undershirt. It took some maneuvering, but you got the jacket off, then the undershirt, and then decided the beard and hat – while they had their charm – needed to go as well. 
And then you were breathless for a whole other reason. 
“You look like a damn fireman calendar,” you told him, your voice somewhere between amused and chagrined at the perfection that was a shirtless Javy Machado in red velvet pants and thick black boots, reclining in a garish throne. You decided that indulging the fantasy couldn’t hurt, and you guided the suit jacket up over his shoulders again. You tipped your head to the side, regarding your amused boyfriend.  
“Some mom in New Jersey would lose her shit,” you told him honestly, and it probably should’ve made you jealous, but it made you just so damn thankful he was all yours. 
You watched Javy’s abs contract as he laughed, pulling you back to him, and you smiled as he kissed you. You loved that it was like this with him – playful and fun, as well as just so fucking hot. 
It only took a moment for the laughter to fade from your kiss, and Javy’s hand was back inside your panties a moment later. 
He pulled a finger through your folds and your head fell back at his tease. He gathered your arousal with his finger, pulling his hand back up to the top of your slit. He found your clit easily, a familiar path, and when he pressed firmly, your legs jolted. 
“You’re Coyote’s girl, aren’t you?” he said thickly, and you wondered if he was thinking back to what RJ had said, or if he just liked the thought of you being his. Either way, you nodded weakly, overwhelmed by the pattern he traced over your clit. 
Javy turned his head so he could kiss your neck again, his lips pressing into you, tongue teasing you in a motion that mirrored his fingers at your core. You leaned into him, loving his strength and his focus on you. His hand, his mouth, his broad chest, all had your head swimming, and building up a heat within you. 
Your hips were moving, rocking into him, and you felt empty, needy. 
“Answer the question, honey,” he murmured into your neck, and he pulled back his hand to readjust. 
“Yes, Javy,” you breathed, forming the words feeling like a gargantuan effort, “yours.”
“Damn right,” he said, and then a finger was pushing through your folds as his thumb traced over your clit. 
You moaned as he pushed into you, a steady intrusion and just what you wanted. You rocked your hips into his touch, seeking more, deeper, and Javy chuckled. 
“Easy, baby,” he said softly, and you shook your head. 
“Need you, Javy,” you protested. His finger was thick, brushing into you, but you knew it wasn’t enough, knew it wasn’t what you needed. He grunted, shifting again, and then another finger was between your legs. Javy’s hand on your hip angled your hips downward, and your mouth fell open when he lifted his palm so you could grind your clit against it. 
His fingers inside you were pressing deep, stretching you, and you welcomed the width of them as you ground into his palm. 
“Baby, fuck,” you panted, and you felt his hips jerk up into you. 
Which had the opposite effect than what he had intended. 
Because his fingers were good, and his hand was good, and everything felt so fucking good– but you knew what was between his legs. And his hand wasn’t enough. 
“You need to be fucked, don’t you, honey,” Javy asked hotly, his voice low in your ear. You nodded desperately, your hips working against his fingers eagerly. He’d fill you so good, fuck you so full, and you needed it, needed him. 
You were overheating in your sweater, nearly wild with wanting him so bad, but you were taking everything he’d give you, always would. 
“Please, baby,” you whispered, and it sounded like a whine. You felt his hips press up again, an unintentional response, and your hips worked faster. 
“‘s too fast, sweetheart,” Javy said, but it sounded like maybe he was trying to convince himself too. “You’re not ready…”
You moaned, your head dropping to his shoulder. 
You knew he was right, knew you had to be worked up to taking his cock, but you wanted to be full of him, wanted to feel like his, wanted him to push everything else out of your mind with his dick. 
“Please,” you whimpered, unafraid to beg, and you felt Javy’s breath catch. 
“Cum for me first, honey, come on,” he said determinedly, and you would’ve scowled at him for his stubbornness, but he was working your body so fucking well. 
His fingers were pressing deeper inside of you, searching for the spot that would tip you over the edge. He knew when he found it because your whole body seized, and he fucking cooed, pleased and proud. His fingers worked faster inside of you, his palm grinding back into your clit, and you felt your body hurtling towards completion in spite of yourself. 
You whimpered his name, and Javy soothed you, his other hand falling to your ass again. He pressed you into him, shushing you as you trembled, and it was too much, too fast. 
Your orgasm broke through you, heat crashing over you as your boyfriend rocked you in his lap. You were shaking, you were pretty sure you were babbling, as Javy worked you through your orgasm, his strong fingers pulling steadily inside of you. 
You shuddered as you came down, the world fading from technicolor to the dark light of the rec center, and the ringing in your ears quieted enough to hear Javy murmuring praise into your ear. 
“So beautiful, honey, always so beautiful when you come. Fuck, you did so good, coming on my hand like that, such a good girl for me, always so good…”
You were pressed into his chest, and you snuggled closer to his warmth, temporarily sated. You felt Javy shift his hand, pull your panties back down before sliding his hand out from under your skirt. A moment later, you felt his chest vibrate, and when you pulled back to look, his eyes were closed, head tilted back, his fingers between his lips.  
“So fucking sweet,” he said, almost to himself, licking your orgasm off his fingers. You felt your core clench at the sight of it, at the everything of him, and you tilted your head up to him, needing his kiss. 
Javy acquiesced, and you both moaned when his tongue swept into your mouth, sharing the taste of your release. It was so hot, everything he did was so hot, and impossibly, you needed him again. 
You reached down between you, your fingers skating over velvet until you found his cock. He was fully erect now, trapped against his thigh, and when your fingers coasted over him, Javy’s breath caught. 
You hummed when his hips pressed up into your touch. 
Even without your body moving to encourage him, his thighs pushed his dick towards your hand, and you loved the feeling of him. Even through the soft material, he was so hard, so thick, and you were desperate for him. 
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Javy panted, and you loved it when he sounded like that, like he was barely clinging to sanity. 
“Don’t want to wait,” you trailed your hand up to his tip. You couldn’t feel the details of him through the suit, but you knew his cock, you knew where he was sensitive, and Javy groaned as you traced over him. He mumbled something into your sweater, but you couldn’t hear it. 
“Please, Javy,” you whispered, and he groaned again. 
His hands were on your waist, and they tightened when he pulled back. You were surprised by the truly forlorn look on his face when he looked up at you, and your hand paused, suddenly concerned. 
“I don’t have a condom,” Javy said dejectedly. “I’m sorry, honey, it felt pervy to put it in a pocket around all the kids and I–”
“We don’t need one.”
You didn’t mean to say it, but as soon as the words were out, you knew you meant them. You’d been exclusive for a couple months now, and you were tested regularly, and you trusted him. The more you thought about it, the more you wanted it– the more you needed it, the more you knew it was exactly what you needed.
Javy was so still underneath you. 
He was looking at you so closely, hope and caution warring in his expression. 
“Are you absolutely certain, honey?” he asked, and the way he was double checking was all the confirmation you needed. 
You leaned down to rest your forehead against his, loving the way his eyes followed you, even this close. You lowered your head to his, pulling back slightly when he reached up to kiss you. 
“100%,” you said against his lips, and Javy moaned, something deep in his chest, the hottest sound you’d heard. 
He surged up to kiss you, and you felt dizzy from the lingering taste of you on his tongue. When he pulled back, you were both breathless, just shy of giddy.   
“You want me to fuck you bare, sweetheart?” he asked, and his soft question made you shiver. 
“Please,” you managed, and Javy huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. 
“You’re gonna let me into that pussy raw?” he breathed, and you squirmed in his lap. You wanted him so badly, needed to feel him, just him. “Gonna let me fill you up, feel this cock press all the way into you?”
“Javy,” you moaned his name, fully wanton, unable to say anything else. 
Your hips were already rocking into him, craving the stretch of him. 
He seemed to understand, guiding you back to stand on his boots, while he shifted, sliding the suit pants down his thighs, along with his underwear. The red velvet pooled over his boots, brushing the tops of your feet, but you barely noticed. Instead, your eyes were trained between his thighs, where his dick was resting against his stomach. 
He had such a pretty cock. 
Long and heavy, curved slightly to the side, a plump head that felt absolutely unreal when it breached you. You were practically salivating for it, and you pressed your thighs together as you balanced on his boots. 
“Now you,” he prompted, and he helped you out of your sweater and skirt. A moment later, you felt Javy pull your panties off, now with no worry for the suit. 
He dropped the thin fabric to the ground and you stepped out of it, his fingers curled up to cup you. God, you loved how he touched you, so certain and steady, like him. You clutched his shoulder for balance, and Javy’s hand tightened over your pussy, pulling him to you by your pussy. 
You might as well have been on a leash. 
You could feel your legs trembling, you wanted him so bad. He guided you back onto his lap, your legs spread over his thighs again, but it was different now, because you could feel him. When you settled, your core brushed against his hot cock, and you both hissed out a breath. Desperation seemed to build between you, and Javy finally, finally let go of you, reaching down to hold his cock steady as you lowered yourself towards him. 
“Give me that pussy, baby,” he commanded, his voice low, and you wanted nothing more. 
When you felt the first press of his fat cockhead between your legs you felt like weeping. It was the smallest brush, but he was so thick, so broad, a promise. You held your breath as you lowered yourself down, a high-pitched moan working out of you when the head of him was fully inside you.  
“Ah, honey,” Javy breathed. 
It sounded like he was praying, and you understood, because it was just the tip of him, but already you were dizzy with how full you felt. 
You looked between the two of you, at the vision of his fat cock pressing into you and you moaned again. You looked so good together; it was amazing that he fit, that you could take him. You could feel his eyes on you, knew he was watching your face as you were watching where you were joined. 
“It’s so good, Javy,” you whispered, your fingers tightening on his shoulders. Your nails were probably leaving marks, not that either of you cared. 
“That’s right, sweetheart,” Javy said, his voice hoarse, “it’s so fucking good. How does my dick feel inside you, just me, so close to you?”
Your eyes closed and your jaw fell slack as pushed yourself farther onto him. The stretch neared on painful but nowhere near painful enough to make you stop. You felt him, like he said, you felt so close to him. It felt perfect, like you were made for this stretch.
“Halfway, baby,” Javy encouraged, and you practically choked at his words. 
Fuck, you thought you were farther along than that; it felt like you’d gotten farther along than that. 
But when you opened your eyes, there were still inches left of his cock, thick, searing length that you needed to fit inside of you. Javy’s hands rubbed encouraging circles on your back, and you realized your thighs were shaking. It felt like you were boiling, melting, but you knew you couldn’t stop, knew you needed to take all of him. 
Still, you couldn’t stop your whimper, “It’s too big, baby.”
Javy’s hips jerked up at your words, and his head fell back against the throne as he forced himself down, to be still. You both groaned at the ground that gave you, and Javy’s chest rose and fell rapidly. 
“You can do it, honey, you’re doing so good for me, so damn good,” he gritted, and you loved him so much. 
Loved that he was fighting for control but he still found breath to encourage you, soothe you, care for you. Your face felt wet, from sweat or tears, you couldn’t tell, but you made it the final few inches. 
When your shaking thighs met Javy’s legs, you both let out a trembling breath, and Javy wrapped his arms around you tightly. 
“Just stay here for a moment, sweetheart,” he whispered, and you lay your head on his shoulder, resting. 
You were so full. 
So sated, so absolutely content, like all you ever wanted to be was in this moment. You wanted to wrap this feeling up, remember it forever, this closeness. This perfection. 
Javy’s hands were still moving slowly up your back, his fingers pressing gently over you. You recognized he was breathing deeply, whether to help you monitor yours or because he needed to be controlled, you weren’t sure. 
You felt out of your body. 
You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, but it was long enough for the stretch to ease and your body to adjust. As you accepted him, as you welcomed him, your head cleared slightly, and you became aware of the gnawing need at your core. 
You needed him to move. 
You shifted in his lap, just slightly, and Javy’s breath punched out of him, as you clenched around him. 
“Jesus, honey, warn a man,” he choked, and you smiled. 
“Can’t help it,” you said, honestly, “just feels too good.”
“You’re telling me,” he murmured, turning towards you. 
He kissed you slowly, languidly, his tongue pressing between your lips as he gently pushed his hips upward. You felt your limbs go lax; he wasn’t even pumping but he was so damn deep inside you. It felt like a caress, something gentle and sacred, and you rested on him. 
He pressed up again, and he broke the kiss, his warm breath coasting over your lips. 
“Feels fucking unreal, honey,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re so tight, so wet. God, I can feel every inch of you like this, feels like heaven.”
You hummed your agreement, turning your head to kiss along his jaw. Your lips brushed over his jawline, your tongue tasting his sweat, kissing him lightly as he rocked slowly into you again. Time felt like molasses, seeping so slowly by, and everything was distilled to the press of his hips into yours, of his cock straining inside of you. 
You whispered his name, and his hands slipped from your back to your waist. 
“Need something, honey?” Javy asked, and you whined in response. 
He was slow and steady, unhurried, stoking that heat inside of you. It was perfect, it was killing you, you needed more.
“Do you think,” Javy’s voice was still breathless, but took on a teasing lilt, “you were naughty or nice this year?”
You swatted at him weakly, his chest already huffing as he laughed. 
“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled, turning to a moan at another gentle rock.
“You know I’d know if you’d been bad or good,” he said, amusing himself even as you squirmed on his cock. “I’ve got a list.”
“I swear, Javy–” 
“Do you think you’ve been a good girl for Santa?”
God, he was such a dork, but he was also so hung, and you couldn’t handle both at once. But then Javy’s hands wrapped under your ass again. Before you could sigh in relief, he lifted you up, strong arms fully pulling you off his dick, and then thrusted up into you. 
You screamed. 
You couldn’t help it, you felt it so much, so deep, so fucking full of him, and Javy’s proud laugh turned to a groan as you clenched around his cock. He’d scrambled your brain with his dick, that was the only explanation, because you were moaning and you felt every limb shaking, and you needed him to do it again. 
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted someone to hear us,” he chastised you gently, and you whimpered at his words. 
You both knew no one was left in the rec center, probably not even the parking lot, but fuck if the idea of someone walking in on you fucking your boyfriend on this throne of his didn’t turn you on even more.  
Javy sighed, something awed. “Is that it, honey? You want someone to see you? Want someone to walk in on you milking this bare cock? Want someone to watch me shove it so deep into your pussy, see how badly you need it?”
He lifted you again before you could respond, his strong arms pulling you up and then bringing you back down into his lap, his cock thrusting deep into you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only want more, need more. You felt something drip out of your mouth, realized belatedly you were literally drooling. 
Javy swore when he felt it, too, and his hips moved faster. He held you steady as he pushed up into you, slamming his hips up to meet yours. 
It was fast, it was rough, it was so, so deep, and you could only think that you needed him to keep going. 
Javy was grunting with each thrust of his hips, a gorgeous sound that had your mind racing. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass as he drove into you, so deep, and you scrambled for purchase, your hands clinging to the back of the throne, anything for leverage as he pumped into you. 
“I wouldn’t care,” Javy said, almost growled, and you felt your core clench tighter on him at that tone in his voice. “Fucking Simpson could break in now, honey, and I wouldn’t care, I couldn’t stop. You think anything could stop me now that I’ve felt this bare cunt around my cock? Nah, it’s too good, it’s so damn good. Fuck, honey, you feel—”
He broke off, and you felt his teeth bite into your shoulder, grounding himself as he drove into you. Vaguely you knew you were close, knew it in an abstract scientific way, because you could barely string two thoughts together, much less words. 
You could only cling to him, to your sweet, strong, Javy.  
“Riding me so good, baby,” Javy mumbled into your shoulder. “Being so good for me, honey, you’re always so good for me. My best girl, my beautiful, best girl. Sweetheart, I’m close, are you close?”
You nodded, or maybe you wailed, but you knew he could hear you, because his thrusts got more frantic. His thrusts were getting shorter, and you realized it was because he couldn’t reach as deep as he wanted, as fast as he wanted. Javy made a noise of frustration and his thighs flexed, then he was lifting you. 
Still impaled on his cock, he shifted you, turned you, and then your back was pressed against the cool surface of the throne. Javy was between your legs, then, and you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him back into you. 
“Please, baby,” you whimpered, and Javy groaned in response. 
“Anything, fuck, you know that, sweetheart, anything,” he whispered, and then he grabbed the throne. 
All you could do was take it. 
Lie in the space between his arms, between his legs, clinging to him as Javy gripped the throne for leverage and thrust into you. You were held firm as he thrust into you, the new angle causing his dick to brush against a spot inside you that had your toes curling. 
“Right there, Javy,” you cried, and you felt him press deeper, determined. 
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he panted, as his hips slammed into you. “God, you feel so good, I’ve got you… I know you feel good too, come for me, please..feels like fucking home in you, please honey, I need to feel you come–”
The throne was shaking with each of his thrusts and he pulled you even closer to him. Your body shook with each rutt of his hips, but as you molded to him, your clit brushed against the hard wall of muscle that was Javy. His cock hit that spot deep inside of you, your clit rubbed against his skin, and it was overwhelming, it was everything, it was enough. 
“Come with me,” you gasped, begged, feeling a blinding heat at the tips of your toes. Javy groaned, and you knew he wanted to protest, but as your body seized, you felt him tense with you.   
You cried out as you came, exhausted and overwriting and flying, but you felt it, felt him. Javy surged up to kiss you, his mouth locking on yours. You were too tired to kiss, too poised to respond, but so was he. And as you tipped over the edge, as you cried against his lips, Javy’s strong hips stilled, and you felt his chest heave as he pumped into you. Then you were warm, so warm, feeling his cum spill inside of you, feeling the world burn around you. It was everything, you and him, locked together and spiraling, shaking. 
You were so full. 
Javy collapsed against you, somehow finding the strength to push himself onto the throne beside you. You fidgeted, squirming until you were once again in his lap, panting and shaking, as Javy held you tight while your orgasms rolled over you. 
You were grateful for the Christmas lights. 
They were a gentle light, soft when you opened your eyes, illuminating Javy’s profile like a poem. Sweat slicked between both of your bodies, and you didn’t want to think about the state the suit was in. You could feel Javy’s heartbeat through his chest, a pounding rhythm, strong and steady as he was. 
You should get up. 
But you snuggled deeper into his chest, relieved by the deep breath you felt him draw. You both basked in the muted light, the warmth of each other's arms, and you decided the feeling was also the answer to Javy’s question– you’d been nice.
.............
Tagging some mutuals, some folks who asked for it, and general lovers of Javy: @daggerspare-standingby @blowmymbackout @teacupsandtopgun @mandylove1000 @callsign-fangirl @cheekymcgrath @goldenseresinretriever @mxgyver @laracrofted @coyotesamachado @wildbornsiren @bradshawsbitch @sebsxphia @roosterforme
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theharddeck · 2 years
Text
i know you want it, do-si-don’tcha (hangman x reader)
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Pairing: hangman x reader (no y/n)
Synopsis: hangman and his girlfriend walk home in the rain after a night at a dance hall, and warm up back at the airbnb.
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), bit of a praise kink (it’s Jake; you’ve got to), daddy kink if you squint (it’s Jake, you’ve GOT to), overstimulation, swearing for sure, lmk if I need to add anything else
Length: 5.8k
Title is from this song by Tanner Adell, and images are edited from Pinterest
On paper they seemed nice—refreshing! The land needs it! At least it’s warm out!—but when you and Jake pushed open the barn doors at the Broken Spoke at just after midnight to sheets of pouring rain, you would have to dissent.
Walking to the dance hall had seemed like a good idea when you and Jake left the airbnb some five hours ago. It wasn’t far, and parking was going to be a mess, and you were both in boots anyways—Jake in the ones he’d gotten for graduating college, you in the ones he’d gotten you just before the trip.
Walking to the dance hall had seemed like a good idea when you and Jake left the airbnb some five hours ago. It wasn’t far, and parking was going to be a mess, and you were both in boots anyways—Jake in the ones he’d gotten for graduating college, you in the ones he’d gotten you just before the trip.
The light brown leather was soft and they fit too perfectly for them to be off the shelf, but the fact that they didn’t have to be broken in meant you didn’t push Jake too heavily for details. You were grateful for that now, as you stood in front of streaming rain, wondering if the gorgeous leather was going to survive the night.
“We could call an uber?” you suggested, having to shout to be heard over the downpour.
“In downtown Austin, at midnight?” Jake called back, and when you looked over at him, his eyes were sparkling with laughter. You could see him trying to hold it in, knowing your aversion to rain, but he looked like he wanted to burst out laughing.
“We’re walking back in this, aren’t we?” you sighed, and Jake pulled you into his side, letting out his laugh.
“Afraid so, sweetheart,” he said. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and your arm curled around his waist reflexively.
You held out your hand from under the awning and the rain hit it with such force that it actually splashed back onto you. It was a warm night, late summer in Texas still pushing 80 degrees even though the sun had gone down hours ago, and the rain felt slightly cooling.
It could be worse.
You’d left your phones back at the airbnb, and it was just water.
You tilted your head to look up at Jake. His eyes were slightly squinted at the splash of water, a sheen of sweat from line dancing still on his skin. His five o’clock shadow was always more pronounced on the second day, and so tonight you could just see the beginnings of stubble across his jaw.
He really was too handsome to be real, especially when he looked down at you, his green eyes intense as always. His head tilted a little, like he hadn’t expected you to be looking back at him, and you smiled reassuringly, squeezing his waist.
“Okay,” you said, blowing out a long breath. “Let’s do it.”
Jake tightened his arm around you, before his hand fell from your shoulder, across your back, to hold the hand closest to him.
“Let’s do it,” he repeated, and the two of you stepped out from under the awning.
You couldn’t stop the squeal when the rain washed over you, absolutely unrelenting. It was cooler than you’d expected, sharp and hard, and it shot new energy through your veins. Jake seemed to reacting similarly, jumping back and forth to acclimatize himself to the water as his clothes soaked through. Water streamed off the brim of his hat, down over the black button down he was wearing, plastering it to his body.
You knew you looked a fool, drenched like a wet dog in the rain, just staring at your boyfriend, but he looked like a music video from the early aughts. Broad shouldered, white teeth, flashing grin as the water splashed off of him. His dark jeans stretched over thick thighs that could make you salivate on any given day, but now had water running down them, denim tight like a second skin. Jake kicked at a puddle, boots sending up a spray of water and as he laughed at the cascade in the streetlight, you felt your heart swell.
His unbridled joy was a beautiful thing, especially for its rarity. When he was on duty, he bore responsibility heavily, masking it under overconfidence and driving jibes. But this Jake—the one who laughed when he was soaked to the bone, unbothered by rain in the middle of a parking lot in Texas—this one was special to get to see.
He turned back to you, and you smiled softly at him, lashes heavy from the rain.
Jake pulled the hand he still held to draw you to him; you fit easily under his arm as the two of you started walking. Your arm around his waist, his over your shoulder, and you skipped a step to matched your pace to his.
Left - right - left - right, steel-tipped toes through puddles of rainwater.
A moment later, you felt something warm on your forehead as Jake settled his hat on your head. It sat low on you, resting on your ears rather than your temples, but it stopped the rain from falling into your eyes, and when you looked up at Jake, he was running a hand through his hair to fix it. His hair was getting long, flipping over the crown of his head, and the ends curling up almost to his shoulders.
Jake’s eyes narrowed to protect them from the rain, and water ran unprotected down his face. Your heart flipped at the little gesture, unprovoked and unexpected, but entirely natural to Jake, to look after you like that.
Thoroughly soaked, you didn’t hurry as you walked back. You were both drenched, so there was no point in running, and the night was warm enough that you didn’t worry about the chill.
A couple cars slowed as they drove by, trying not to splash you both, and you were content to walk in silence. There wasn’t much to say, and your arms around each other seemed a pretty perfect cap on the evening.
One truck honked as it drove by and you felt Jake look at you before cursing quietly under his breath. A moment later, his arm fell from around you and he started unbuttoning his shirt; you looked down and understood why.
Your yellow sundress had been opaque in the evening light when you’d left the airbnb, but soaked through, it was nearly transparent. The skirt was the perfect twirling length, falling to just above your knees, and the thick straps were wide enough to hide your bra straps, but the rain pressed it against your skin, and the red of your bra was clearly visible, as well as the black line of your panties.
“Jake, it’s fine—” you started, when you noticed he was glaring after the truck, unbuttoning the wet fabric with less finesse than normal.
“Not a word,” he said, looking sharply at you.
You closed your mouth.
He pulled off the button down, peeling it off his shoulders and wrapping it around you like a cloak. It wasn’t so oversized that it swallowed you, but he hung it stubbornly over your shoulders, buttoning it deliberately. It was too wet to feed your arms through it, and so it ended up like a cloak or a straightjacket, but Jake’s expression harbored no room for discussion. His brow was furrowed in concentration, jaw tight, and when he finished, you went up on your toes to kiss him before he stepped away.
His lips were warm, rain water coasting down his cheeks, and you felt him relax slightly as your mouth brushed against his.
“Thank you,” you whispered against his lips, and he grunted. You raised your eyebrows, still extended on your toes, weaving slightly till his hands came up to steady you while you waited.
“Welcome,” he said, begrudgingly. You could tell he didn’t like the idea of other people being able to see you exposed like that, just as he knew you didn’t want him to go all territorial about it. Sometimes it was hot, sometimes it was something that rubbed you wrong, because he had to know he was all yours. You could be stark naked on the street, and the only eyes you’d care were on you would be his.
You smiled, kissing him again quickly, then settled back into your boots.
“Besides,” you said, starting to walk again and gesturing at his chest, “pretty sure this is a more graphic image than what I was rocking.”
Jake looked down at himself, at the white undershirt that was absolutely translucent against his tanned skin. You could see the texture of his chest hair, the darkness of his nipples, the contours of his abs, looking like he was an Amercrombie model. Jake shrugged, unphased by his body being on display, and reached down to where your fingers peeked out from the confines of his shirt to tangle your hands together.
You walked on together.
The shirt wrapped around you was still warm from his body, and the contrast stoked something inside of you. He’d been so patient all night, guiding you through the foreign dances, never minding when you stumbled over his boots. He’d twirled you in his strong arms, made you feel light and beautiful, and reminded you how good it was to be on his arm.
To be his.
You turned down the street of your airbnb, and Jake dug around in his pocket for the key. He never let go of your hand, and that light contact had your body humming for more.
Jake got the door open, flipping on a tabletop light and propped it open with his hip as he reaching back into the rain for you.
A shiver worked over your skin as the water flowed over his skin, the sharp lines of his jaw, shoulders, arms, and Jake’s eyes clouded with concern as he noticed the tremor, and he pulled you quickly into the house.
“Baby,” he said quietly, voice chastising and caring at once, “why didn’t you say you were cold?”
He closed the door behind you, his long fingers undoing the buttons of the shirt he’d put around your shoulders. Absently, you knew you should help him, but he didn’t seem to mind, so you stood in a dripping pile in the mudroom as he reached the end of the column, and pushed the garment off your shoulders. It fell with a splat to the tile, and your newly exposed skin prickled with awareness.
Jake made a sound in the back of his throat like concern, and his hands skimmed down your shoulders from where he’d pushed the button down off you, finding the zipper of your dress under your arm. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder as he undid the zipper slowly, and another shiver worked over your skin.
You could feel warmth radiating off of him, through the translucent white of his undershirt, through the stretched denim of his jeans. You leaned slightly towards him as the material of your dress slackened as the zipper came undone.
“Jake—” you started, but he shushed you as he guided the straps down your shoulders. The dress pooled on the floor around your boots, his motions slow and gentle, his touch warm.
Jake stilled at the sight, and you felt his gaze travel up your body, his hands coming to your waist.
“Ah, sweetheart,” he sighed, and his thumbs smoothed over the skin of your stomach as his perusal fluttered beneath your skin. You watched desire flash in his eyes, his jaw clench at the sight of you, but then determination to care for you chased it away.
You whispered his name again, as your hands drifted over the thin cotton of his shirt.
“I know, baby, I’m hurrying,” he said, misunderstanding. Jake leaned into your touch as your hands smoothed over his shirt to his shoulders, but he turned his head when you rose up to kiss him. Undeterred, you pressed your lips against his cheek, his jaw, trailing down to his neck.
You loved the way his stubble prickled under your tongue, rough texture where there was usually smooth, and the rain water tasted sweet on his skin.
“You’re shaking, angel,” he muttered, voice strained as your tongue skated along his jaw. “Come on, stop that, let me take care of you.”
You shivered again, biting back a whimper as your mind ran through the many ways in which he could take care of you. Jake read your shiver as emphasis that he needed to work faster, and his hands tightened on your waist, holding you steady as he pushed away from you. You could see his eyes dilated from desire, but he still knelt in front of you, lifting one of your feet to pull off the boot. Your hands rested on his shoulder, fisting the thin cotton there as you leaned back against the door for balance.
His skin was warm like a furnace, and you wanted to curl up into his chest, warm your body with his.
“Jake, please—” you tried again, and the look he shot up at you as he pulled off your boot was frustrated.
“I know, sweetheart, let me just get these off of you, then I’ll get a blanket—“
“Jake,” you interrupted, “it’s not the cold.”
He stopped at your words, eyes flitting up to yours in confusion, before falling over your body. The goosebumps over your skin, the slight shivers, the uneven breathing—you watched it dawn on him that this was your reaction to him, not the rain.
He sat back on his thighs, looking up at you. His eyes were dark, his jaw loose, and he finished pulling off your other boot.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner, baby?” he asked, the slightest reprimand in his voice. His hands trailed up your legs as he leaned forward, not breaking eye contact, to press a kiss against your stomach, “You know I would’ve been on my knees way sooner for you.”
You whimpered, you couldn’t help it, and you saw his eyes darken.
“Tried to tell you,” you whispered, as his hands skimmed over your skin. His touch felt like sparks as he reached your underwear, fingers teasing along the edge of it.
“My pretty, needy girl,” he murmured, his fingers dipping under the hem as he started to pull them down your thighs. “Am I gonna find you wet under here, sweetheart?”
You squirmed as the material dragged across your skin, and then Jake exhaled slowly as you were bared to him.
“Angel,” he groaned, looking up at you, and before you could ask what, he ran a finger through your folds. Your body jerked at the contact, hand fisting his tshirt and your eyes falling closed. Jake pulled his hand away and you heard him hum as he brought his finger to his mouth, tasting you.
“What was it that got you this ready, baby?” he asked, voice low, as he returned his hand. He ran his finger through you, feeling, teasing, pulling through the wetness there and reveling in it. “Was it the dancing? Knowing every man in that hall was jealous of whose arm you were on? Was it those assholes in the truck, getting a glimpse of my girl—“
“You, Jake,” you interrupted, your hips chasing after his hand, knowing it was what he wanted to hear, knowing it was true. It wasn’t dancing, it was being in his arms; it wasn’t being exposed, it was him covering you. “Only you, baby.”
“Damn straight,” Jake muttered darkly, and his hand dropped as he leaned forward to bury his face in your cunt.
Your head hit the door as your back arched when his tongue speared into you. Jake’s hands gripped the back of your thighs, spreading you, and his mouth worked over you. Normally he’d tease you with kisses, brush his lips around your inner thighs and wait until you begged before he met your desperate need, but tonight you felt the urgency in his mouth, the possession.
He licked you hungrily, tongue flat and broad, before he worked his way up to your clit. When he stroked over the tight bundle of nerves you felt your legs weaken, leaning back against the door heavily, and Jake hummed against you. The vibration felt heavenly, but it was him, it was knowing he knew how good he was making you feel, that sent another rush of arousal through you.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake mumbled against you as he lapped at you.
“Feels so good, baby,” you told him, and you let go of his shirt to reach up for his head. You brushed your hand over his forehead into his hair; his eyes fluttered as your nails scratched into his scalp and tangled your fingers into his hair.
Jake let go of one of your thighs to reach between your legs, his hand stroking between your folds as his mouth returned to your clit. His lips closed over you, his tongue circling, tasting, and he pressed a finger at your entrance.
His broad, calloused finger felt so damn good, pushing steadily and your hips canted forward.
“Shit, baby,” Jake whispered. “Look at you, pulling me in like this.”
You felt shameless, your body wanting more and more and more of him, and when you looked down to see your arousal glistening on his chin as he watched you, tightness coiled in your core.
“Jake, you look so good,” you had to tell him, your voice wrecked, and his eyes shot up to you. His eyes were blown wide and his chest puffed slightly at your words and he added another finger.
You moaned at the delicious stretch, at the look of wild pride on his face.
“You like how I look like this?” Jake asked, increasing the speed of his fingers, feeling your legs shaking. “You like how your man looks on his knees, how fucking gone he is for you, for your taste, for those little whimpers you’re making?”
His words curled over you and you nodded frantically, lost in sensation. Jake curled his fingers inside of you, knowing where you ached, and when his mouth returned to your clit, you gasped, pulling at his shirt. If he kept this up, you were going to come, and you didn’t want it to end yet.
He chuckled darkly but followed your pulling, rising up to stand in front of you. Taller than you again, and still in his boots, one of his hands rested on the door beside your head and the one that had been between your legs traced over your lips. You opened your mouth obediently, and Jake groaned when your tongue licked over his fingers, tasting how good he’d made you feel.
“Right back at you, darlin’,” he said. “I can’t think straight, not with you looking like this.”
He pulled his finger from your mouth, caging you back against the door, and he dipped his head to kiss along your jaw, down your neck. He found a spot that made you whine and when he sucked, your hips bucked forward; you both moaned when your heat met his thigh.
You ground against him, knowing you were making a mess, but the drag of wet denim against your core was nothing short of intoxicating. The rough friction, with the soft pull of Jake’s mouth at your neck, had you whimpering, and Jake’s hands dropped from the door to undo your bra. You vaguely registered it dropping to the floor, and the cool air on your skin before Jake’s big hands covered your breasts. His palms were warm, his fingers rough, and he squeezed as you rutted against him.
“Yeah, baby?” Jake pulled back slightly to ask, his panting breath on your neck. “You gonna get yourself off on my thigh?”
Shit, you probably could.
Just the thought of it sent another wave of arousal through you, and Jake groaned quietly as he felt the slide of you grow slicker against his jeans. He pushed his hips back into you slightly, and your hands scrambled to pull at his tshirt. You needed his skin, to feel him against you, and Jake released you so you could pull the thin cotton off of him.
His skin glowed golden in the dim light, tan and warm and your hands pushed over his chest, reveling in the feel of him. You could feel his breath stutter at your touch, and your hands turned downward.
“Baby,” Jake warned, as your fingers brushed through the hair below his navel.
“Baby,” you teased back, and then your breath caught when you felt him through his jeans. Jake’s hips bucked forward as you pressed your hand over his length. You could feel him, hard and hot, and you ground into his thigh, knowing how good he would stretch you, fill you.
Jake groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder and his hands bracing on either side of the door as you worked over him.
“Tell me quick, darlin’,” he said through a clenched jaw. “You feel too good and you’re not even fucking touching me yet; if you want to come on something other than my cock, tell me now.”
You whimpered, his frank words only spurring you on. You reached up to undo his belt buckle, then got the zipper just low enough that you could slide your hand inside his boxers to feel him. You both moaned when your hand closed around him, hard and pulsing, the tip already leaking precum.
“That last,” you managed to say, “I want that, Jake, please—“
“Thank fuck,” Jake gritted, and he reached down to pull your hands from him, lifting them above your head. With one hand, he held your wrists against the door and with the other, he hastily jerked down his pants. Still soaked from the rain, they only made it halfway down his thighs, and Jake abandoned them to get back to touching you, running his fingers between your thighs again.
“You’re so wet,” he murmured, and his brow furrowed slightly as he looked back up to check in with you. “Are you sure you’re ready for me, baby? We could—“
“I’m ready, please,” you breathed, your body canting away from the door. Normally you’d work up to taking his dick but tonight you wanted him now, bad enough to risk the immediate discomfort.
“Baby…” Jake started, but trailed off with a chuckle when he saw your determined glare. “Alright, alright.”
His hand drifted from between your legs to pump over his cock, working your wetness and his precum together, and you whimpered as he lined himself up to your entrance.
“Please, baby, please—“ you pleaded, and Jake slammed into you.
Fucking hell.
You knew he was big, you were reminded every time, but your body slacked against the door as he pushed himself into you. You wanted to push back, press your hips into him, but you were burning with the stretch and all your body could do was work to accommodate him.
“Sweetheart,” Jake soothed, letting go of your wrist to brush a hand across your forehead.
You squirmed, try to find an angle to alleviate the stretch and Jake choked when you worked farther onto him.
“Darlin’, you’re so tight, stretching so good for me…”
You felt drunk, you felt like you were floating above yourself, the only thing tethering you to this plane was the ache between your thighs and Jake’s voice. Your head rolled and Jake knocked the hat off your head, so his hand could rest between your and the door, cradling you.
“Talk to me, baby,” he said, and you opened your eyes to see his face so close to yours, watching you closely.
“You’re trying so hard not to say that you told me so,” you tried to laugh, but your voice was tight between pain and pleasure.
“I’m being pretty heroic right now, I think,” Jake chuckled, but you saw the tightness in his shoulders as he fought to keep still.
God, he was so good to you, checking in and holding himself off to make sure you were okay. It was a tight stretch, and it was uncomfortable in the moment, but his care was so sweet and you knew it’d be just that—a moment.
“I’d be mad if it wasn’t so damn good,” you whispered, and Jake’s hips jerked forward at your mild praise before he reigned himself in.
“Baby—” he warned, but you pulled your wrists from his hand to trace down his sides, feel his measured breath as he fought to keep from pushing into you harder.
“Thought you wanted to fuck me, Jake,” you pouted, and Jake groaned as his resolve crumbled.
“Alright, baby, hang on,” he gritted, and for anyone else it would’ve been the cheesiest line, but with Jake it was a warning.
He pulled out slow, the stretch heavy both ways, then pushed back into you, hard. The hand he had behind your head, protecting you from the door, held you in place as he shoved his cock up into you, and you cried out.
You felt so full, and then he pulled back only to push in deeper. He set a punishing rhythm, and your hands grappled for purchase, feeling his back flex under your fingers as he thrust up into you. Each stroke drove you against the wood door and you felt your skin dragging against the raw surface but it grounded you, something other than the pulsing fullness inside of you.
Jake lifted one of your legs to wrap around his waist and you moaned as it changed the angle. He pushed impossibly deeper into you, using your thigh for leverage, and ground against your clit at the top of his thrust. Jake’s breathing had gone uneven, and knowing he felt it too had you clenching tighter around him.
It was too much, it was everything, it was so fucking good you couldn’t handle it.
“Breathe, baby,” Jake gritted. “You feel so fucking good; stay with me.”
“Jake,” you sobbed, not even knowing what you were asking for. His hips stuttered when you said his name, and he drove into you harder.
The force of his thrusts lifted you off the ground, your leg on his waist hanging in the air and your tiptoe only barely grazing the ground when Jake pulled out. He was fully supporting you, fucking you into the door and each scrape of your back against the wood felt like the only countermeasure to the immense pleasure he was wringing out of your body
“So pretty, baby,” Jake groaned, and when you opened your eyes, his were dark, mouth open as he looked down over you. His panting breath was warm on your skin, and he shifted again, pushing you higher against the door so he could lower his mouth to your breasts as he pumped into you.
You let go of him to clamp a hand over your mouth to cover the scream that wanted to escape.
“None of that, baby,” Jake said immediately, pulling back from your chest. “I want to hear every sound you make, every noise my girl makes on my cock; that’s mine.”
You whimpered but nodded, dropping your hand, and Jake went back to your breasts. His tongue laved over you, teasing and sucking, and you felt the tightening in your core spread to your spine.
Jake released you from his mouth again, his head falling between your breasts. “I can feel that cunt tightening around me; are you getting close, darlin’?”
“I’m so close, Jake,” you cried. He thrust harder, grinding at the top to press against your clit, and you moaned loudly. He was so good, so strong and so big inside of you and you were swimming in it, so close…
“Fuck, baby, you sound so pretty,” Jake groaned. “My baby sounds so good working herself on my cock, doesn’t she?”
You nodded frantically, you were his, his, and he felt so damn good. You were so close, and Jake knew, he always knew.
His hand fell from the door to pull you tight down onto him, pushed with his dick deep inside you, not even a breath of space between your bodies. Jake used that closeness to grind against you, not pulling out, his pelvis over your clit, the pressure unbearable.
“Give it to me, baby,” he said, his voice as tight as his body, wound, waited for you. “Need to feel you come, baby, need to feel that cunt flutter around me, so come on, baby, come for your da—“
You shattered before he could finish saying it.
You keened, your body pushing off the door and spasming as waves of pleasure pulsed through you. You felt it in your fingers, you felt undone and baptized, white hot and unreal, and it sent you tumbling. Your throat felt raw and didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Jake’s careful hands, gently wiping under your eyes.
“You did so good, baby,” he whispered, and you realized your body was trembling at the force of what he’d just pulled out of you.
“Baby, you’re shaking,” Jake said, concern and pride mixing in his voice.
“‘s your fault,” you mumbled, tucking your head into his neck.
God, he smelled good, like sweat and rain, and the stubborn remnants of his cologne from hours ago. Your eyes felt heavy, your body even more so, and as you relaxed against him, you realized he was still hard inside of you.
You pulled back to look at him, his corded muscles pressing you into the wall. His jaw was clenched and he was breathing carefully through his nose, his nostrils flaring, but his hand on your cheek was gentle, controlled.
Damn, you loved this man.
Only he would take you dancing, laugh in the rain with you, fuck you up against a door without making it out of his boots, and yet tenderly wipe your tears before he finished.
“Baby,” you said softly, lifting a hand to run your fingers through his hair again. Jake leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment when you scratched at his scalp, and he hummed.
“Anything,” he whispered. “Tell me what you need, angel, anything.”
“I feel empty, baby,” you told him, “need to feel you come.”
Jake huffed out a breath, and you slid a little down the door as he twitched inside you.
“Sweetheart, you’re gonna kill me,” he groaned. “I’m trying to make sure you’re okay, not—”
“I’m okay,” you assured him, leaning down to kiss him. When your lips met his, he drew in a deep breath, surging up to meet you, and you rolled your hips experimentally.
It was the most you’d been able to move yet, your body loosened by your orgasm, and the sensation had both of you freezing.
“Shit, baby,” Jake breathed.
“I know,” you whispered back. He was so deep inside you, it felt like you could feel him in your throat, but when you ground down on him, it was an entirely new sensation. You were too sensitive still, you weren’t going to come again, but it felt fucking incredible, and if Jake’s labored breathing was any indication, he felt the same.
“Sweetheart—“ Jake gritted, and you moved again. You pressed your forehead to his, sharing air as you swiveled your hips over his, fucking down onto him slowly.
Jake moaned against your mouth, a low, broken sound, and you wished you could trap it in a locket, the sound of your man, absolutely wrecked for you.
“Want to feel you, baby,” you whispered, lifting slightly to kiss his jaw, his neck, back to his lips.
“Christ—” Jake’s control snapped and his hands gripped your hips so tightly you knew he’d bruise.
He moved you over his cock, pistoning into you, and you drove your hips down meeting him. You felt his rhythm increase, and you knew he was close; your hand in his hair tightened, pulling slightly, and he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as he pumped into you.
“You’re taking me so good, sweetheart,” he panted, and as his words curled through you, you clenched on him again. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
Jake’s hips stuttered when you tightened and he reached down to circle his thumb over your clit. Your hips jerked when he touched you, and you moaned.
“Baby, it’s okay, it’s too sensitive, I don’t need to—“
“Who knows what you need?” Jake’s words were as forceful as his hips, driving into you. You whimpered as his fingers brushed over you, pleasure spiraling from your core, your body winding up again.
The sounds of Jake slapping into you echoed around the mudroom, punctuated by your breathless moans and his hoarse grunts. Your body hadn’t fully come down from your first high, and you found yourself gasping as he drove into you, pushing you back to that brink again.
“Asked you a question, baby,” Jake said. He leaned forward, pinning your hips to the door. You couldn’t move, couldn’t shift against him, could only open your hips wider as he moved over you, inside of you.
“You do,” you whined, legs beginning to shake again. At your words, Jake circled your clit again, his thrusts growing
“That’s right,” Jake said, almost growled. “And what my girl needs is to come with me, yeah? To milk my cock so she doesn’t feel so empty anymore.”
“Please, Jake,” you begged, as your body wound tighter. He’d driven you so high so quickly that you knew the crash could be violent, and when Jake pressed a gentle kiss to the underside of your jaw, you were off like a Roman candle.
Jake was muttering rough praise against you, but you couldn’t hear him past the ringing in your ears, the way your world blurred, and then finally, finally, the twitching of his cock as he emptied inside of you. Jake came with a shout, slumping against you and the door, his body sagging as he pumped into you. As your skin cooled, you shivered again, this time actually from the cold.
Jake felt it, because of course he did.
You thought he’d pull out of you, but instead he leaned down and lifted your other leg around his waist. You protested feebly, but he silenced you with his lips, lifting you into his arms as he carried you towards the bathroom.
What a picture you made in the mirror’s reflection.
Your hair, tangled and wild, your body absolutely bare except for the marks left on your skin by your lover. Jake was still partially clothed, his jeans now around his knees as he shuffled you into the room, his golden skin shining with sweat. He set you down on the vanity, and he reached around you to turn on the tap to warm up a washcloth.
You smiled at him, sleepy and happy, and he grinned back, quick and easy. You saw his dimple appear on his cheek, and your heart felt like it was absolutely sopping with contentment, and you thought that maybe there was something redemptive about summer rain after all.
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theharddeck · 1 year
Text
yours (jake seresin x f!reader)
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pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)
summary: after returning stateside just in time for Javy's wedding after a long deployment, Jake and his girlfriend make up for lost time.
warnings: 18+ minors DNI -- explicit sex, folks. we've got cockwarming, dirty talk, unprotected PiV sex, f!receiving oral sex, condescension, dumbification if you squint, creampies (yes, plural) (it's been a long time for jake okay, no judgment) and the normal disclaimer--be safe and hygienic when having not-fictional sex pls (i.e. writing this made me want to chug a pint of cranberry juice)
note: this fic is the smutty followup to this fluffy fic I wrote for @roosterforme 's #love is in the air tgm challenge, based off the song yours, by russell dickerson. you don't have to read it, but it's sweet.
wc: 6.2k
previous fic
//
“Sweetheart…honey, wake up.”
You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the darkness of the truck, Jake standing in the open door, looking like he was trying to hide a smile. 
You hadn’t meant to fall asleep. 
But the emotions of the day– the joy of the wedding, the sweet relief of having Jake home, the exhaustion of being emotionally “on” as you helped coordinate things throughout the day– had taken a toll on you, and as soon as the truck had pulled past the cobblestones and onto normally paved road, you'd fallen asleep. 
You rubbed at your eyes, grimacing when you realized you were probably smudging whatever was left of your mascara all over your face. You felt groggy, you felt grumpy, and you felt guilty that you’d fallen asleep while Jake drove both of you home. 
“You should’ve left me in the car,” you grumbled. “I could’ve slept the whole night.”
Jake laughed, adjusting the truck door slightly so he could reach past you to undo your seatbelt. “Sweetheart, in what reality was I gonna leave you in the car in our driveway?”
“One where I’d be asleep right now,” you mumbled, knowing you were cross, but unable to stop the grumpiness. You hated naps, you hated unintentional naps, and you especially hated that you’d made Jake drive home essentially alone. Especially when he was probably twice as tired as you. 
“Alright,” Jake said soothingly, like he was trying not to laugh, and you let him turn you so your legs were out the door. You knew you should grab your heels but just the thought of putting them on was too much, and Jake seemed to know it. He turned around so his back was to you, nudging between your knees against the side of the bench seat. 
“Hop on,” he instructed.
“Jake, I can walk–”
“‘Cause you can doesn’t mean you have to,” he said. “Now come on, I want to carry my girl home.”
Your heart fluttered in your chest and you scooted to the edge of the seat, climbing onto Jake’s back like a koala. This position was one that you’d determined months (and a handful of insecurities) ago was no problem for him to carry you in, and you snuggled into his back as he walked up the driveway to the house.
“You smell nice,” you mumbled sleepily into his neck, and you heard Jake’s breath catch as your breath puffed over his skin. 
“Thanks,” Jake said, an amused lilt back in his voice. “You feel nice.”
“Weighted blanket,” you agreed, undoing your arms from around his neck to fit the key into the lock as he leaned forward slightly, “all the physicians agree.”
Jake pushed open the door to the house after you'd unlocked it, ferrying you over to the side table for you to drop the keys with a clatter. You settled your head back against his neck, letting him carry you where he willed. 
God, you’d missed this. 
Just being with him, this close. Your arms around him, held up by his strong hands under your knees, your skin pressed against him. It always felt overwhelming when you had him back, in the most bittersweet way. So profoundly grateful that he’d come back, so achingly aware of how long he’d been away. 
“Missed you,” you whispered into Jake’s hair, followed by a soft kiss against the nape of his neck. 
Jake’s steps faltered and a moment later his hands lowered your thighs as he bent his knees, returning you to the ground. The moment your feet touched the hardwood, Jake turned, his hands still holding yours in place around his chest and he kissed you. It wasn’t to be sexy, it wasn’t riotous, it was assurance—he knew what you meant. He felt it too. 
Your arms tightened around him, pulling him closer to you, and Jake’s hands framed your face, cradling you, like you were precious to him. He pressed deep kisses to your lips, then moved your face so he could kiss up your cheek, your forehead, and then gentle kisses over your closed eyelids. Then he pulled you into his chest again, his head settling on top of yours as he squeezed you tightly, grateful for the lack of distance. 
“Missed you too, honey,” he said softly, his voice thick.
You held him tightly, your arms stroking up his strong back, happy to be wrapped up in him. A part of you wanted more– it’d been so long–but you’d also fallen asleep on a twenty minute drive. And Jake had to be even more tired than you…no, there’d be time enough for that in the morning. 
You pulled back slightly, looking up at Jake. 
Neither of you had turned on the lights when you came in; his face was illuminated only by the moonlight filtering in through the windows down the hall. And yet he was so familiar to you, the shadows in front of you falling into recognizable patterns. Even in the darkness, this was your Jake, home to you, and you could both rest.   
He smiled at you and you smiled back, before poking at his boots with your toe. 
“I could go straight to bed but we’re pretty gross, aren’t we?” you asked, as Jake leaned down to take them off. He wavered a little as he balanced between legs, and you reached a hand out to steady him. Jake shot you a grateful look as he dropped the boots unceremoniously, then he nodded. 
“I trust the hotel, but you were barefoot a lot, there.”
You wrinkled your nose, looking at the dark soles of your feet. “Shower?”
“Sounds great,” Jake said, and the two of you you walked towards the bathroom. 
You started the shower and Jake pulled out a couple of towels from the hallway closet, before joining you. You turned your back to him as he stepped into the room, and he came up behind you, kissing your shoulder lightly as he undid the zipper of your dress. Slate blue chiffon tumbled to the floor and you stepped out of the cloud of it, careful to not get dirty footprints on it. You clipped your hair up—no way you had the energy to wash it tonight, and you didn’t want to sleep on wet hair—and stepped into the shower, waiting for Jake. It wasn’t a large shower, but it didn’t need to be, not with how close the two of you wanted to be. The steam added to the surrealness of this evening. The romance of the wedding, the softness of the empty dancefloor, the familiarity of the two of you in this home that was both of yours. 
You washed each other gently, sudsy bubbles and soft hands, motions slow as exhaustion crept up on the both of you. It took longer than it should’ve, pausing for wondering kisses, wandering touches, just reassuring each other that you were here, you’d made it. Jake shook his head like a Labrador, sending water droplets flying and you helped him wash the sweat out of his hair, giving him a fake mohawk and goatee of soap bubbles before he rinsed them off. When it was finally time for Jake to turn off the spray, you weren’t sure if the warmth over your skin was from the hot water, his touch, or the deep contentment coming from your heart. 
God, you were a sap. 
You pulled on one of Jake’s sweatshirts and he tugged a tshirt over his still damp torso, towel-drying his hair in a motion so aggressive you were amazed he had any hair still on his scalp. You brushed your teeth with your free hands tangled together, unglamorous but needing the contact with each other. Together, you pulled the throw pillows off the bed, and when you settled into the bed, your body going spineless at finally being able to rest, Jake reached over to pull you closer to him. 
You went easily, sliding an arm between the cool mattress and him, and tucking your knees between his. Jake sighed, something deep like contentment as he pulled you into his chest. You felt one of his hands smoothing over your outer thigh, petting you, and you wriggled closer. 
You needed to be closer. 
Every inch of you was pressed against, wedged beneath, slotted between, your boyfriend, but it still felt like you couldn’t reassure yourself he was there. 
“What do you need, honey?” Jake asked softly, his voice a rumble against your skin and you shivered. 
“Closer,” you whispered, hoping it made sense. You didn’t know what you needed, but it was clawing at you, like panic, that he was finally back with you, finally here, and you couldn’t settle into it. How many nights had you cried yourself to sleep in this empty bed? And now he was back with you, but you felt restless, unmoored. 
“Shhh, you’re okay,” Jake soothed, and you pulled in a deep breath, willing yourself to listen. You felt him shifting beside you, but you stayed clinging him, trusting him. He untangled himself from you slightly, pulling back to tug his tshirt over his head and you nuzzled your cheek against the hair of his chest. Jake’s hands were gentle against your stomach as he prompted you to slide the sweatshirt over your head, and then you could feel him sliding your panties down your legs. Once you were both naked, your heart felt like it was slamming against your ribcage, relieved, still needing more.
“Please, baby,” you whimpered, and you felt Jake nodding. 
“I know, darlin’,” he said gently, and he leaned away from you to reach into the bedside table. A moment later, you heard the cap of the tube of lube, and then Jake’s breath caught as he pumped his hand over himself. 
“You’re okay, honey,” he reassured you, and your hips canted towards him, “just a little longer, okay?” 
You knew you weren’t ready, that this was still gonna be a hell of stretch after so long, but you needed him. Blessedly, Jake’s hands pulled you on top of him, hips straddling his as your torso pressed up against him. 
“Gonna be so close to you, darlin’,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek quickly, before reaching between the two of you to guide his cock towards your entrance. He slid between your folds and your breath lodged in your throat in relief, and then he was pushing into you. 
Fuck. 
Even with the added lubricant, the pressure of him was sharp and strong, and your hands fell to the mattress around him, pushing back against the soft covers. 
“Jake,” you moaned, breathless, overcome. He wasn’t fully hard, having just worked himself up quickly, but the stretch was still more than you were used to. You were panting as you both worked your hips down to meet his, your walls slowly letting him in. Jake’s breath was coming in controlled bursts as he tried to keep himself in check, and you felt like you could feel your heartbeat in your fingertips, you were so aware of your body. 
“I know, angel,” Jake gritted, his voice tight, and you felt your core tighten in response. This wasn’t about anything other than closeness, but you always had a bit of a pavlovian response to that tone from him. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart, just a little more.”
You pressed your lips together to trap your whimpers inside, and pressed yourself down farther. When your thighs brushed his, you wanted to sob in relief. You felt stretched, full, aching and absolutely held. This was what you needed: Jake overwhelming you, grounding you, reminding you that you were here with him. 
“Thank you,”  you whispered, your voice hoarse, and you lifted slightly to press kisses to whatever skin was closest to you. Jake’s hands tightened on your thighs, and you bit back a moan as you felt him jerk inside of you, as you shifted. 
“‘Course, honey,” Jake said back, and he pulled your arms back between you. He folded his arms around you, wrapping you up, warming you as you warmed him. You felt your panic fade, shrinking away in the overwhelming presence of Jake, good and strong and all around you. Your head was draped against his chest, and when you breathed in, all you could smell was him. When you shifted your hips slightly, you ached with the fullness of him. He was everything and it was perfect, and your eyes felt heavier as you finally were able to relax. 
“Love you,” you mumbled into his chest, and you felt, rather than heard, Jake’s deep sigh of contentment. 
“Love you too, baby,” he rumbled.
You felt amazing. 
You felt full and sleepy, like you were finally out of your body, and yet the feeling of Jake around and in you was the realest thing you’d known. The steady thumping of Jake’s heart under your was soothing, and you felt yourself slowly drifting off to sleep. 
You shifted your hips to settle down further, but Jake’s reaction had your eyes flying open, as his breath punched out of him, as his hands shot from your back to gripping your hips, holding them still. 
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, before you could process his reaction. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just—it’s been a while and you feel good…I’m good, sorry, go to sleep.”
Well, now you weren’t going to do that.
Because now you were aware that it wasn’t just exhaustion that was overwhelming you...it was that Jake was fully hard inside of you, stretching you completely. It was that his breath was controlled, measured, like he’d tried to stop himself from panting and this was the only way. His hands were tight on your hips, his legs tensed underneath you, as your sweet boyfriend was determined to lay still so you could sleep, while his entire body was radiating tension. 
“Okay,” you mumbled, appeasingly, biding your time. You waited for Jake’s grip on you to loosen before you rolled your hips again, and this time, Jake’s thighs bucked up into you before he could stop himself. 
“Jesus, fuck, woman,” he swore, and you giggled, unable to hide your amusement. 
It was sweet, what he was trying to do, borderline heroic, but you were a simple woman. You’d missed him, you had him, and it was incredibly flattering that this closeness affected him in a different way than it did you. 
You moved your hips again, fucking down on Jake slowly, and the man below you groaned, a broken sound that might’ve been the prettiest thing you’d ever heard. 
“Baby,” he started, his voice hoarse, “that’s not what this is for, I just want you to be able to sleep, knowing I’m here. I’m fine, it’ll—”
He broke off when you clenched down on him, not moving your hips but tightening around him. 
“You feel fine,” you told him, your own voice breathier than you’d anticipated. He felt better than fine, he felt borderline euphoric, but he was trying awfully hard to be noble, and you didn’t want to push it. 
“Sweetheart,” he warned, his hands tightening on your hips again. You could feel your body reacting to him, warming in a new way. You wouldn’t get off with him, not with how primed he was, but you wanted to feel him. Wanted to be the one to make him feel good. 
“Sweetheart,” you parroted back to him. “You can fuck me, Jake, if you want.”
He fully moaned, one of his hands dropping from your hip to press over his eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s not what I wanted, wanted our first time back to be so good for us—”
He was babbling, already halfway gone, and your heart swelled at his sweet confession. 
“This doesn’t count, baby,” you reassured him. “Come on, want to feel you.”
You could tell he wanted to protest, wanted to be stoic about this, but you rolled your hips again, and his words faded into his pleasure. 
“How do I feel, Jake?” you murmured, pressing your hips tightly to his, and kissing your way up his chest. 
“So fucking good,” Jake gasped, his hips starting to buck up into yours. He found a rhythm quickly, desperately, like he was sprinting towards something he’d been following for months. 
You hummed as he worked deeper into you, relishing the stretch, the feeling of him moving under you. 
“Baby, you feel so good,” Jake told you, his hands coming up to cup your tits, squeezing them as he rutted into you. “God, I missed you so much—fuck, honey, just like that—you feel so good, darlin’, missed you so fucking bad—”
He was practically whining, and you licked at his collarbone lazily. He was so good to you, gentle and patient, and it felt so deeply gratifying to be the one to bring him pleasure. 
“Fuck, honey, I’m sorry, it’s so good—” he moaned, his chest heaving as his thrusts grew sloppy. You felt pride coursing through you-- you’d made him like this, your body, so quick to push him over the edge. His hips shoved into you, pushing his cock impossibly deeper into you, and your hips widened to welcome him. 
“That’s it, honey,” you encouraged him, your own breath going shaky as he drove into you. He was so thick, pressing so deep, and you felt so good having him in you; you needed to feel him find his release. 
You knew Jake was close because his grunts morphed into soft cries, little whimpers he only let escape when he was too overstimulated to notice. Those delicate noises were like music to your ears, and you kissed your way up his neck; when you brushed your teeth against the shell of his ear, Jake stiffened. His entire body went tense and his breath cut off harshly as his hips shoved deeper into you as he came with a silent groan, and then it was you moaning, drunk on the feeling of his warm cum spreading inside of you. His hips thrust weakly into you as he rode it out, and you looked up to catch a glimpse of him like this. Sweat had plastered his hair to his forehead, and his chest was heaving, absolutely spent, his face frozen in pleasure, gorgeous. 
“You did so good, baby,” you whispered, pushing yourself off him lightly to brush at his hair. He made a noise that might’ve been your name, might’ve been another subconscious moan, but you adored the sound of it. 
He cleared his throat, and tried to say something but you shook your head, not understanding as you tried to make out what he was saying. 
“I asked,” he mumbled, after another minute, one of his hands reaching around to the back of your neck, squeezing lightly, “if you’re trying to kill me?”
You snickered at his dramatics, scooting up to press a kiss against his jaw. Jake turned his head, catching your lips with his own, and you felt his smile against your mouth. 
“Poor man,” you teased, settling back into his chest. The hand on your neck tugged jokingly on a bit of the hair at the base of your neck, and you grinned, appreciating the comfort between the two of you. 
You could feel his cum seeping down your thighs, and it felt amazing to be so full of him. You knew you should get up, clean yourself up, but he felt so comfortable that you didn’t think you could handle that right then. 
“G’night,” you murmured into his chest, patting the pectoral closest to you in what you hoped was a soothing manner, but was honestly entirely for you. 
At first, you thought Jake was clearing his throat again, but then you realized he was chuckling, a soft sound that shook you lightly, as you lay on top of him. 
“Now sweetheart,” Jake said, the hand around your neck coming up to tilt your chin towards him. You looked up at him, curious, and the look in his eyes sent a bolt of dark heat through you, even through your exhaustion. “I know I’ve been gone a minute…but surely you don’t think that much has changed.”
And you knew he meant that you hadn’t gotten off, but truly you didn’t need it. You were dripping with the reminder of his orgasm, that was plenty for you, tonight. You guys weren’t quid pro quo about it, and you knew your orgasm ratio was normally higher than his, and that he took that as a point of pride– but it didn’t mean you had to cum tonight. 
“Jake,” you shook your head, licking your lips. “That’s very gallant of you, but we can…tomorrow. We can—”
You cut off with a squeak as Jake flipped you over, his hands capturing yours and bracing them on either side of your head. He fixed you with a long look, daring you to challenge him again, and he lifted himself off of you slowly. 
“Need you to hold my seed in you, honey,” he said, thoughtfully, looking down at your naked body, spread under him, still joined. “Can you do that for me?”
He didn’t wait for you to answer, his softened cock sliding out of you before you could process his requested. You whimpered at the loss of his warmth, but tightening your core to hold his cum inside of you, thinking absently of the sheets you didn’t want to change. 
“Good girl,” Jake praised softly, looking down at you. His hands let go of yours, trailing down your body and ghosting over your breasts. Between the cold night air of the room around you and the soft touch of his fingers, you felt your nipples tighten, pulled to alertness before he even touched you. 
“So pretty, aren’t you?” Jake murmured, his hands spreading over you. Your back arched, instinctively, pressing your breasts into his hands, craving the calloused heat of them. Jake chuckled, but he acquiesced to your request, his broad fingers spreading over your breasts and his thumbs brushing your nipples. His touch was light, teasing, and it felt like a dream after so long without it. 
“Jake,” you breathed, as his hands worked over you. You felt your core relax and regretted it a moment later when you felt some of his cum drip out of you. You whimpered, tightening again, determined to do as he’d asked, but his hands on your chest were pulling your attention. 
When he lowered his head to lick at you, you broke again. Your hips fell farther open and you whined at the sensation of his cum leaking out of you. But Jake’s mouth was warm, his tongue broad and firm, the perfect pressure against your nipples. You felt his teeth graze against you, felt it like a live wire to your core, and you forgot what he’d asked, forgot anything but the feeling of his mouth against you. His soft lips, teasing teeth, soothing tongue worked over you, stroking your pleasure higher, and you ground up into him. 
You didn’t realize one of his hands had left your breasts until you felt him at your entrance, and then he broke away from you suddenly. 
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, an air of disappointment in his voice that made you want to beg, do better, be good. “What happened?”
As he asked, he pulled his finger through your folds, gathering up his cum, mixing with your new arousal between your thighs. The sound of it was deafening, pornographic, overwhelming and you realized you were panting. 
“Feels too good,” you managed, gasping as his fingers slid through you again. “Jake—”
“That won’t do, darlin’,” he chastised gently. “Come on, baby, you know better. You can’t be this gone already, I’ve barely touched you.”
Had he only just? 
It felt like he’d been touching you for years, forever, but the way your body was reacting, you knew it was longer. You moaned as his fingers worked over you again, and you realized he was pushing his cum back into you. Fucking his release back into your cunt with his wide fingers, and you clenched down on him as his digits worked your entrance. 
“Have to do everything for you, don’t I, angel?” he asked, but you heard the pride in his voice as he took in the sight of you below him, taking him. 
“P-please,” you whispered, not sure what you were asking for, and Jake made a soothing sound in his voice. 
“Easy, sugar,” he soothed, pulling his hand out of you.
You clamped down again, achingly empty, but pried your eyes open to watch him. Jake lifted his hand to your mouth, his fingers tracing over your lips until you opened for him. Your tongue darted around his fingers, tasting his release and your arousal and you moaned at the taste of the two of you together. Fuck, it’d been so long, and Jake’s eyes darkened as he watched you.
“That good, huh, baby?” he asked.
You nodded, your tongue cleaning his fingers, and Jake pressed them back into your cunt again. You expected him to spread you on his fingers, but instead he pulled them out, lifting them to his own mouth. He was on his knees between your legs, and when he tasted you, his eyes fell shut. 
“Fuck, honey,” Jake groaned, his voice like gravel. He swayed slightly, like it shocked him, like it was overwhelming, like his need was a palpable thing, and you felt your body pulsing with desire. 
“Jake, please,” you whined, your hips canting towards him. “I need to feel you, need something.”
His eyes opened, and your breath caught at how wide his pupils had blown. His hand fell to between your legs, and your head dropped back when he palmed your cunt, possessive. His thumb tripped over your clit and your legs jolted, but he didn’t press his fingers back into you. 
“God, this pretty pussy,” he mumbled, to himself more than you. His thumb brushed over your clit again and your eyes screwed shut, overwhelmed. “This pretty, perfect, pussy.”
And his voice was different this time, and you felt the bed shift, but you didn’t realize what was happening until you felt his tongue where his fingers had been. 
You sobbed out his name, your hand tangling in his hair to pull him deeper into you, but Jake moaned, fucking moaned, like this was for him. His tongue spread you, and you realized he was lapping at you, licking his cum out of you, chasing the taste of you together. Your hips bucked up, but Jake banded a forearm across your waist, holding you down while his tongue fucked into you, devouring you. 
You felt devoured. 
Your entire body was aflame, ignited by the pull of his tongue, the pressure of his mouth. His lips were spread wide over you, his tongue pulling at you, pulling from you, and his nose brushed against your clit as he adjusted to get deeper into you. This was different than the stretch of his cock, this was his adoration painted against your inner walls, a declaration of hunger and desire that had your thighs shaking as you fought against the tight hold he had on you. 
“Darlin’ you’re sweeter than anything,” Jake said against your pussy, his throat thick, voice heavy. You moaned at the sound of it, moaned at the feel of it, of him between your legs. “Fuck, honey, I missed this. I can feel you shaking, are you close, baby? Please say you’re close, I need to taste more of you.”
He lifted a hand to between your legs, spreading your open with his fingers as he fucked you with his tongue. He felt amazing, he felt like everything, and his words drove you closer to release. 
“I’m close, Jake,” you gasped, your voice reedy. “Baby, you feel so good…”
“That’s it angel,” Jake muttered into you. “Let me make you feel good, baby, want to taste it, need to, fuck, honey–”
You felt his shoulder against your thigh and you lifted your head to look down at him, moaning wantonly as you realized he was pressing himself against the bed. His face buried in your cunt, your boyfriend was fucking himself raw against the mattress, drawing his own pleasure from yours, and the thought of it made the pressure coiling in your stomach snap. 
You collapsed back into the bed as you came, your hips writhing against Jake’s firm grip, and you heard him moan as he tasted your release. 
“Oh, fuck, baby,” he moaned into your cunt, “God, you taste so good. Look at you, sugar, doing so well—holy shit, baby, you’re so good for me…”
You felt your body shaking, you felt his tongue pulling your release out of you, and you felt warm, like the air around you was humming. You whispered his name, trying to pull him off of you, but Jake pushed you away easily, continuing to lap at you until he was satisfied. 
He finally pulled back, pressing wet kisses against your thighs, and you felt the world reorienting. How had you made it this long without him? Without his sweet kisses, his soft touch, the sweet heart behind all of it, that beat for you, and made you feel so cherished? Your body was buzzing, light and satisfied, but it wasn’t enough, you needed him again.
You reached down for him with boneless arms, grabbing weakly to pull him up to you. 
“C’mere,” you begged, not caring how desperate you sounded, nor minding the fond chuckle when Jake crawled up to you. 
“See,” he drawled, sounding pleased with himself, “wasn’t that better than just drifting off to sleep and–”
You cut off his question when you pulled him down to you, tasting your joint release on his lips. He tasted good but he felt even better, his strong arms caging you in, his hard body hovering over you, like he was careful. 
“Need you again, baby,” you whispered against his lips, drawing back to kiss up and down his jaw, feeling almost frantic with it. “Need you like the first time, Jake, please.”
Jake groaned, his body pushing against you as he processed your words. 
“You sure, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice dropping deeper, even as one of his hands came up to frame your face, checking that you were okay. His eyes were soft as he hovered above you and you nodded sharply, reaching down between your bodies. You both gasped when you hand closed around him, thick and hard again, between you. 
“So sure,” you whispered, kissing him again, “I need to feel you in me, please, Jake, please—”
“Okay, honey, okay,” Jake hushed you, reaching down to pull your hand away. You wound your arms around his neck—had it only been earlier tonight when he’d held you like this on the dancefloor?—holding your breath as you waited for him. 
And then he was there. 
His thick cock was right at your entrance, heavy and full and pushing, and when you bowed away from the bed, your breasts pushed against Jake’s crisp chest hair. You moaned, and he sunk deeper into you. Just a few inches, a few heavenly inches, but your head tipped back, reveling in him. 
“Baby…” Jake groaned, his hips rocking slightly as he pushed into you, and you nodded, feverish. 
“It’s so good, baby,” you reassured him, clinging to him. He pulled out a little, gathering leverage, and when he pushed deeper into you, you started crying, you couldn’t help it. 
“Honey?” Jake stilled, concern coloring his voice. 
“It’s okay, I’m okay,” you said quickly, pressing your hips up to him. “It’s that good, Jake, shit, give me more, please…”
He groaned, his head dropping into your neck, and this time he didn’t stop until he was seated. You lay there for a moment, chests heaving together, soaking in the closeness and the fullness and the perfection. You were trembling, every part of you shaking, rejoicing, but you needed him to move. 
You meant to ask him to move, beg him to move, but when you opened your mouth, you couldn’t make it form words. Jake’s hips jerked forward, and your breath caught in your throat at the fierceness of it. You whimpered softly and Jake’s hands spanned your hips, pressing you into the mattress and holding you steady as he pulled out of you. 
The ache was just as good this way, just as noticeable and heady, and you whined at the drag of him. Jake’s laugh was low this time, breathy, and when he pushed back into you, just as slow and steady, he shook his head. 
“Thought you were all tough earlier, didn’t you, baby?” he asked, his voice gruff. “Getting me off easy earlier? And now look at you…too needy to even ask for what you need.”
Your nails clawed into his back, pulling him into you, an unspoken request, but Jake knew, he always did. 
“Come on, baby,” he said, pushing deeply into you. His hips ground against yours, his pelvis rocking against your clit, and he laughed again when your eyes rolled back. “You should’ve thought of this earlier. Because I already got mine; I could fuck you all night like this.”
Heat rushed over your skin; you knew he was right. Shit, he was right, he’d done it before. He could hold you on the edge for hours, blubbering and begging, and he’d be just as in control as he was now. You felt your mind going blurry at the prospect of that, of being at his mercy, being his toy for the night. 
“Oh, sweet girl,” Jake crooned, pulling back. “You’d like that, too, wouldn’t you?”
You nodded, distant, your body bowing off the bed to follow his cock, grateful for anything he’d give you. Fuck, he was so good to you. Always taking care of you, looking after you, giving you everything you needed, even after months of being away from you. 
“That’s what I thought,” Jake said, and he slammed his hips back into you. 
You keened, your back arching at the push of him, perfect. Jake groaned when he felt you clenching around him, and he settled into a rhythm over you, pumping his thick cock into you, reveling in the needy sounds he was pushing out of you. 
“You sound so fucking good, angel,” Jake panted, his hips driving into you. “God, you feel amazing, milking this cock. Honey, you’re gonna make me cum again, fill this pussy up again, aren’t you?”
You felt tears leaking out of your clenched shut eyes, and you were no longer conscious of the sounds you were making. All you could focus on, all you knew, was the divine push and pull of Jake’s cock, ramming in and out of you. He was rutting against you, hard and deep and the most delicious rhythm and you felt white light creeping up around you. 
You moaned, begged your tongue to form his name as his body worked yours higher. He felt so good, strong and hot and right, and you were too scattered to manage it, your moans echoing brokenly around the room. 
“You’re perfect, baby,” Jake groaned, his voice getting tighter as his hips worked faster. “How did I get so lucky, huh, how is this perfect baby mine? Fuck, honey, I missed you so much, can you cum for me again, angel? Let me feel you—oh, shit, honey—please, let me feel it.”
His hips were pistoning into you, hitting a spot that had you seeing stars, and you were pretty sure your nails were drawing blood, but you couldn’t stop. Your body was tightening, almost there, almost fucking there, and then you felt Jake’s hips stutter as he got closer to his release, and it pushed you over the edge. 
You came hard, with a wail that might’ve been soundless, clinging to him like he was the only thing that could keep you sane, which maybe he was. You felt his body tighten over you, his arms cage around you protectively, and knew he was proud of you even though you couldn’t think, couldn’t hear him. He was whispering something in your ear, his own voice hoarse, but you couldn’t hear it over the pounding of your heart.
You felt him go still over you, felt his cum spurt inside of you in hot ropes, felt full and sated and perfect, and like you never wanted to be anything other than this. Under him, full of him, your heat beating with his. 
Jake groaned, catching himself on his forearms before he collapsed over you, but you pulled him weakly until he draped his large body over yours. Your blood was rushing in your ears, your whole body was shivering, but you needed this, needed him. 
Jake was breathing heavily, his sweet breath puffing next to your ear, and you nuzzled into him. You’d have to get up, eventually, get cleaned up and take care of the sheets. You had to sleep, too, finally catch up on the thing your body had wanted since before you left the reception. But you lifted a hand to the back of Jake’s head, running your fingers through his hair, relishing the way his chest vibrated as he practically purred into your touch. 
“Welcome home, lieutenant,” you whispered, softly, wildly thankful to have him home, and knowing that him being here was what made it home for you too.
//
tagging: @bradshawsbitch @laracrofted @hangmanbrainrot @sometimesanalice @withahappyrefrain @daggerspare-standingby @mxgyver @callsign-fangirl @datemephoenix @roleycoleyreccenter @teacupsandtopgun @bradshawseresinbabe @mandylove1000 @stargazing15 @fuckyeahhangman @lt-bradshaw @gigisimsonmars @wildbornsiren @emorychase
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theharddeck · 1 year
Text
talk with my hands, maybe take it real slow (jake seresin x fem!reader)
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Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)
Synopsis: Jake's roommate has a new tattoo and can't stop itching at it...what kind of friend would he be, if he didn't help distract her?
Warnings: this fic is 18+, minors please DNI – we go pretty quickly into smut, featuring the usual--explicit oral sex (both receiving, bc we're feminists like that), and then also PiV sex, including but not limited to, condescension, overstimulation (bc what's the point of fiction if we're not wringing multiple orgasms out of our self insert?) and creampies (do not have unprotected, unnegotiated sex pls)
Length: 7.8k
A/N: sorry about the moodboard being lacluster; I couldn't find a tattoo pic that wasn't on a size 0 thigh or white, so we went without
You hadn’t considered yourself to be a person with particularly awful self control, but then again, you’d never had a tattoo healing on your inner thigh, driving you mad with the need to scratch at it. It’d been 3 weeks since the appointment and your ink was probably 95% healed; the redness had faded entirely and a couple raised patches of roughness were all you had to show for the fact that it was new. Which somehow made the incessant need to itch all the more frustrating, because you were pretty sure it was mostly phantom at this point. 
“Listen, honey, you gotta chill.” Jake’s voice interrupted your inner monologue, from his seat on the couch across the living room. 
Your roommate had started in hard on the Southern pet names when he’d seen that they’d flustered you. Honestly, there was precious little the man wouldn’t do, if it meant making you unnerved. You two didn’t have what you’d call a friendship, but the playful Something between the two of you felt safe and fun. Even if it did mean that Jake seemed to take a little more pleasure than he should’ve, in the face of your pain.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” you replied drily, “are the literal thousands of abrasions on my skin irritating you?”
Jake rolled his eyes at your melodrama. “I can feel you thinking from over here, and it’s taking up real estate that belongs to Maya Hawke,” he gestured to the TV where the latest season of Stranger Things was playing.  
“It itches,” you mumbled, hearing the complaint in your voice and knowing it was pathetic, but too over it to care. 
Jake cut you a long look, like he also heard it, and was embarrassed for you. “Want me to get you some ice?” he asked, and it was sweet of him to offer, but…
“We’re out of ice,” you sighed. “I went through the last two trays in, like, record time, and they’re refreezing now.”
“We have like fourteen trays,” Jake frowned.
“Yeah, well someone,” you paused meaningfully, “drastically depleted our resources when he decided to have a bourbon tasting over the weekend.”
Jake had the grace to look guilty for a  moment. Then it was his turn to sigh dramatically, lifting his arm to the back of the couch and swatting at the cushion next to him. “Alright, kid, c’mere.”
In retrospect, you probably should’ve asked why, or at least deliberated for half a second before doing what he asked. In reality, you pushed off the settee you’d been lounging on, and flopped ungracefully onto the couch next to Jake. You shared a bathroom with the man and he’d seen you on the second day of your period; dignity was a distant memory. 
Still, it didn’t prepare you for Jake pulling your legs apart with one of his large hands, and spreading his fingers over your tattoo, all while calmly turning up the volume of the TV with the remote in his other hand. 
“Jesus, Jake,” you choked out, telling yourself the goosebumps erupting over your whole body were entirely because of your surprise, and not any other reason. “Buy a girl a drink first.”
Jake chuckled, somehow managing to shake his head at you while not looking away from the TV. “You’re the one who’s always telling me my hands are cold as ice.”
Had you said that?
It sounded like something you’d say.
But Jake’s hand on your leg felt anything but cold. Okay, no, if you separated your brain from—well, from anything—you could recognize that his fingers were quite cold, and it was incredibly soothing having them over you. His thumb was brushing lightly over your skin, while the rest of his hand stayed still, and you knew that ice cubes couldn’t do that, but damn, it would’ve been great if they could. You settled back into the couch, relaxing into the soft material and the relief brought by Jake’s hands.
It was a wonderful two minutes. 
Good to know that that was how long it took for the fourth law of thermodynamics to kick in, and for Jake’s fingers to warm up after extended contact with your skin.  
Then a new problem was presented—you couldn’t scratch at yourself without scratching him. You shifted slightly, to see if you could get any type of friction, but Jake’s touch was light enough that he moved with you. You snuck a glance at Jake’s profile, still fixed on the TV screen, and his expression could best be described as incredibly pleased with himself.
“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you muttered accusingly.  
“Absolutely,” he said, smugly. “You could fidget up a storm over there, but here you have to just deal with it.”
You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from sticking your tongue out at him petulantly. You folded your hands in your lap, determined to ignore the rising propensity to scratch at yourself. At some point, you’d sunken into the couch until your shoulder was pressed against Jake’s arm, and you shifted so your cheek was resting against him too. His tshirt was soft, and he smelled clean, like a freaking linen candle, which was annoying, because it didn’t help clear the riotous tangle of thoughts rushing through your head.
You did stop fidgeting, though.
“Atta girl,” Jake said quietly, his thumb still moving over your thigh.
Was it hot in here?
It had to be hot in here.
Because this was Jake, your roommate, who’d never shown an ounce of interest in you, being calm as anything with his hand literally on your thigh, and saying things that would’ve sounded like come ons from anyone else.
You tried to focus on the TV, and whatever ridiculous shenanigans the children on it had found themselves in, pulling a deep breath through your nose.
(Immediate mistake, because of said linen candle bullshit). 
On the TV, Nancy’s hair got frizzier, Steve’s life got shittier, and all the while your leg was getting itchier and itchier.
You reached to press a hand over the skin distractedly, forgetting momentarily that Jake’s hand was there until you encountered his fingers instead of your skin. He turned his hand over, his knuckles pressing against your skin while his fingers intercepted your own.
“Where’re you going?” he asked, voice lightly mocking, and you wrinkled your nose. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t affected, his hands so close to your burning skin, and he still had the wherewithal to tease you for your poor impulse control.
“Jake,” you whined, trying to untangle your fingers, but his grip was unrelenting, “I’m not gonna scratch, okay, I just need to do something.”
He looked down at you, which you had to admit, was a hell of an experience when your head was practically on his shoulder. 
He blinked slowly, looking at you closely before he opened his hands, letting your fingers go. You pulled your hand back, eyes closing in relief when you pressed them against your skin. It wasn’t as good as scratching, but the pressure helped, and you shifted your fingers—and your nail accidentally dragged against your skin. 
Which was pretty much the worst thing that could happen, because it was like a tease and it shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but you were half a second away from clawing up your thigh when Jake’s hand closed around your wrist again. 
“Seriously?” he asked, amusement coloring his tone. 
“Just let me,” you pleaded, trying to pull your wrist back. “It’ll take like two seconds and then it’ll hurt and I can stop.”
“You could also get infected or mess up the ink placement,” he said, and you stopped pulling for a moment.
“When did you learn so much about tattoo care?” you grumbled, and Jake chuckled again. It sounded different this close to him, deeper. 
“When my roommate decided to mark up the inside of her leg,” he replied easily. “Now don’t you have a lotion or something you can put on this?”
“I do, but it doesn’t help,” you said, annoyed that he was right. 
“Well, let’s at least try it, yeah?” Jake asked, and you rolled your neck, sighing. 
“Fine,” you pushed yourself off the couch. 
You felt Jake’s eyes following you to the bathroom, so you didn’t scratch at your leg, not wanting to hear more of his teasing. You found the jar of lotion, dropping back onto the couch as you unscrewed the lid. 
“It’s just gonna be sticky and leave white marks on the couch,” you groused, looking confusedly over at Jake when he held his hand out. “What?”
“What do you mean, what,” he retorted, like it was obvious. “I’m not gonna let you do this; you have zero impulse control.”
You were too stunned to resist when he plucked the lotion out of your hands, dipping his fingers into the jar. 
Had you said that the worst thing was an accidental nail brush against your tattoo?
That wasn’t true. 
Because the actual worst thing was having to sit there, pretending everything was fine and normal, as your ridiculously hot roommate started spreading Aquaphor on your inner thigh. 
Jake was nothing if not thorough, his long fingers smoothing the cool lotion over your skin, pressing slowly into you and fucking kneading into your thighs, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that he was entirely serious. Gone was the teasing condescension, the knowing look, and in its place was an unfamiliar gentleness. 
Jake’s head was bent, some of his perfect hair falling in front of his eyes, as he properly tended to your leg like he was a nurse and these were doctor’s orders. Like he wanted to be absolutely careful as he looked after you, like looking after you was even something he did. You swallowed, forcing your breathing to remain even. 
This was fine, this was normal. 
This was absolutely not complicating the tenuous relationship the two of you had, and wasn’t causing you to read into the pet names, the caring, the fact that his big hand was literally between your legs. 
He had to stop, or you had to stop, because now was not the time to be thinking risque things about your roommate, not when he was genuinely being sweet and trying to help.
“I think that’s good,” you said, hoping Jake couldn’t hear the tremor in your voice. 
Jake tipped his head to the side, considering his work, then nodded to himself, satisfied. He rubbed his hands together, wiping the excess lotion on the backs of his knuckles, and screwed the lid of the jar back on. You were readjusting on the couch when he leaned across you to leave the jar on the coffee table and when he shifted back, one of you messed up, because his forearm brushed against your chest. 
“Uh, sorry,” Jake said quickly, “I wasn’t—”
He was interrupted, of course.
Because you could tell yourself you were fine, everything was fine, all day long, but turns out that the slightest, accidental brush of Jake against your breasts had an ungodly whimper spilling out of your mouth before you could stop it. 
He froze. 
Shit. 
“Shit,” you said aloud, hands covering your face in embarrassment, “no, I’m sorry, that wasn’t—uh, we can ignore that—I don’t know what’s going on with me, sorry to make it weird, it’s not your fault—”
You stopped babbling when Jake’s hands closed on your wrists, and, for the upteenth time that night, you let yourself be guided by him. When he pulled your hands away, your breath caught at how close he was, and the unfamiliar expression on his face as he looked between your eyes. 
“I need to know right now,” he said, his voice serious as anything, “if you’re apologizing because you’re embarrassed, or because you didn’t mean it.”
You pressed your lips together, not trusting what sounds would come out of your mouth with Jake’s hands holding your wrists, and his eyes this intense. Whatever he read on your face had Jake’s lips parting, a shaking breath drawn in through them, before they thinned in a lazy smile. 
“And here I thought I was the perv, taking any excuse to get my hands on you, darlin’, when you’ve been wanting me just as bad.”
Your jaw dropped at his blunt words, but what, were you going to say he was wrong? 
Jake’s head cocked sideways when you didn’t say anything, and he guided your hands to the back of his neck, before letting go of them. Your fingers wound around his neck, the ends of his hair brushing your thumbs, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something before this—whatever ‘this’ was—went any further.
“Probably worse,” you admitted, not even trying to hide the breathlessness in your voice, “if I’m honest.”
Jake’s eyes darkened and his grin grew wider. “If that’s how honest sounds, I think I want to hear more of it,” he said.
Fuck, he was going to ruin you.
“Kiss me and find out?” you managed, and Jake huffed out a laugh before reaching for you again. His hands settled on your waist and he lifted to drag you towards him. 
“Yes ma’am,” he whispered before his lips crashed into yours. 
You were still reeling from the title, and how you liked the sound of it a little too much, but Jake’s mouth against yours drove that thought from your head. He kissed you like he’d wanted it for longer than you could’ve expected, his teeth biting at your lower lip, his tongue soothing after it. You shifted to help him as he pulled you towards him, both of you gasping when you settled in his lap. You were thankful his flannel pajamas could stand a bit of residual lotion, just as you were thankful for the pressure of his hands on your waist, fingers pressing into you and pulling you closer. Jake licked at the seam of your lips and you opened for him; when his tongue swept into your mouth, you felt it in your core. And suddenly, or maybe not suddenly, maybe finally, after months of build up, you were desperately needy. 
Your fingers pulled through his hair, and Jake’s hips pressed up when you pulled lightly on the strands. At the motion of his rolling hips, your pajama shorts pressed tightly into your core and the friction felt like building, and Jake broke away from your mouth with a gasp. His hands tightened on your waist, holding you still, and while you appreciated his restraint, you wanted to feel him again. 
You whispered his name as he trailed kisses down your neck, and your breath quickened when he found your pulse point under your jaw. Jake hummed, the vibration echoing over your skin, through you, and you realized he was muttering things against your skin. 
“D’you know how hard these last three weeks have been,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed kisses to new goosebumps, “with you always in those tiny shorts, saying it’s because you can’t have tight clothes over your tattoo?”
You felt lightheaded at the idea of Jake wanting you this whole time, maybe longer, locking it away and refusing to act on it because he didn’t know what you felt.    
“It’s true,” you managed, and Jake laughed, a puff of warm air over your skin. 
“And if that wasn’t enough,” another kiss, another soft suck, “you’ve been so whiny, haven’t you? Always pouting, always needy, making me wonder how you’d sound…”
Your eyes were closed, your world distilled to the heat of his mouth, the heat of his words. You pulled at him, needing his mouth over yours again, and Jake obliged. He was so much softer than you expected, gentle but firm, and he tasted so damn good. 
With him distracted, you rolled your hips again, rewarded by the friction over your core, and you could feel Jake hardening in his pajama pants. It was addictive, and you sought him out again, pouting when Jake stilled your hips again. 
“Baby,” he murmured, and heat shot through you at the pet name, not one he’d used jokingly before, “what was the point of the lotion if you’re going to grind it off against my flannels?”
“You can reapply it later,” you rationalized, but Jake shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. His lips were swollen, his cheeks reddened, and you loved the look of him like this, almost dazed. 
“C’mon,” he prompted you, and guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you managed, and Jake’s hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs. You were between his spread knees, and his hands played with the hem of your shorts before he pulled them down your legs, taking care to not scrape them over your tattoo. The air felt cold on your exposed skin, and Jake swore quietly as he dropped the shorts, staring at you in your underwear with something that felt dangerously close to adoration. 
He leaned closer, and at first you thought it was so he could be more gentle with your fragile panties, but then he pressed a kiss to the outside of your thigh and you jumped, pushing him away, embarrassed again. 
“You don’t—” you started, pursing your lips, “um, you don’t have to…do that. We can—”
Jake’s hands smoothed over your thighs, coming around to cup under your ass. Had you said his hands were cold earlier? You were sure they were burning, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched. 
“Nah, baby,” he whispered against your thighs, his nose brushing the soft skin there, as his hands squeezed you, “nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming ‘bout for months.”
Well, fuck, when he put it like that…
“Okay, then,” you said quietly, weaving your hand into his hair again, and Jake flashed a smile up at you. 
“Okay, then,” he echoed, and his fingers pulled your underwear over your hips. He scooted to the front of the couch, a motion that should’ve been cute for his enthusiasm, but instead was simply devastating. He looked so good like this, eager and hungry, and your breath caught when he licked his lips, your hips canting towards him. 
He didn’t look away from you. 
His green eyes locked on yours as he leaned closer, not pausing when his tongue crept past his lips and you were the one to break, your head tipping back when he licked you. His tongue was flat against you, like the first taste of ice cream, and your head spun at the shamelessness of it. You whimpered when he pulled away, and Jake’s breath was warm as he leaned back again. 
“There’s that sound I was after,” he murmured, his soft words a cutting juxtaposition to his filthy tongue. 
He teased you with soft licks, lapping at your arousal that’d only grown since he’d first touched your thighs earlier tonight. His hands snuck around to pull you apart, spread you on his fingers like he needed his tongue closer, tasting you and drinking you. He was unhurried and it was maddening, and you pulled at his tshirt distractedly, needing to feel his skin.  
“Ah, honey,” Jake muttered as he pulled back. “You taste so good, fucking unbelievable.”
You opened your eyes to find his chest heaving, his eyes dilated and your slick smeared across his chin. He looked so good like this, drunk on you, and you imagined you looked nearly as wrecked. He leaned back to pull his tshirt over his head, and your fingers smoothed over broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, as it was bared to you. 
He tossed the shirt aside and a moment later he was leaning back into your cunt, nuzzling your clit with his nose as his tongue lapped at you. Your knees nearly buckled at the sensation, and Jake groaned, the vibrations only increasing the intensity of the feelings flooding you. His strong hands held you up, spread before him, and he lifted his mouth to tease at your clit. You whined when his tongue rolled around you, alternating tight circles and slow, and your eyes rolled back when he closed his lips and sucked. 
“Jake, oh my god,” you gasped, feeling your stomach tighten. It was too soon, you knew it, but you also couldn’t fight it, and it was practically crashing over you—
Jake pulled back. 
You whined in confusion, looking down to find him looking up at you, a familiar expression of smug awareness on his face. He turned his head to press a gentle kiss to your thigh, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. 
“Told you I’ve been waiting on this for months, honey,” he teased, another wet kiss slightly higher on your thigh. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”
Nothing about this felt easy. Not the way he had your body primed for release, every nerve wound tight, not the way you felt it slipping away, and your desperation only climbing. 
You whimpered his name, too gone to be embarrassed by how fucked out you sounded. 
“Aw, baby…” Jake cooed, and you saw his shoulders shift as he repositioned. Before you could anticipate his next move, a broad finger was stroking through your folds, and you cried out, your hands flying to his shoulder to steady yourself. 
“So pretty like this,” Jake soothed, pulling his finger through you, stroking back over you, the pressure perfect, but not enough, “needy. Desperate.”
“Jake, please,” you cried, appalled to find real tears were pushing behind your eyes. After being so close to release, then being denied, then held steady wherever his fingers pulled you, you couldn’t be responsible for the way your body was shaking.
“Bet you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?” Jake said, voice even and unbothered. He added another finger, still not entering you, just teasing over you, languid. “You’re all proud when you’re strutting around in those shorts, cute when you ask for help, but not like this, huh? Like this, you know who’s in charge.”
Any response you had was cut off when he plunged both fingers into you. 
No warning, no easing, just sudden pressure and thickness and your body tightened around the sudden intrusion, unrelenting and unexpected and fucking perfect, and you couldn’t stop your orgasm as it ripped through you.
“Oh, fuck,” Jake groaned, as he recognized your walls tightening around his fingers. “Thatta girl, come on, give it to me.”
You moaned, your core clenching as your denied release rolled over you, scalding and strong and you felt it in your toes. You didn’t know how you were still standing, you knew the sounds pouring out of you were unbridled, and Jake was proudly talking you through it. 
“So beautiful, baby, you’re doing so good,” he said, his other hand stroking up your neck to support your head. You turned your head desperately, pulling his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it, needing to be grounded. 
“Fuck, baby,” Jake moaned, and his fingers kept their pace inside you. You felt the edges of your orgasm soften as he worked you through it, and as the fingers not in your mouth brushed against your cheek, you realized he was wiping away tears. You were shaking, it was perfect, but his fingers inside you were pressing deeper and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to push you higher again. 
“How we doing, honey?” Jake asked, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes. He was watching you carefully, and he pulled his thumb from your mouth so you could answer him.
“Good,” you whispered, through the clearing haze, “really, really, good.”
Jake hummed, tilting his head as he considered you. His fingers scissored inside of you, and you clenched down on him, hands grasping his shoulders. 
“Then I think you should give me another,” he said, smile growing as your eyes widened. 
“Jake, wait—” you protested, but you went without opposition when he pulled you back to the couch. His fingers paused their exploration but he didn’t pull out of you as he guided you onto your back, propping your knees up carefully. 
“Have to be gentle with that thigh,” he said, his voice growing husky as he settled between your legs. He stroked his fingers again, and your core clamped down on them, still not fully returned from your first high. Any other protest you had died when he bent down again, his mouth returning to your cunt. 
You’d had his tongue, you’d had his fingers, and they’d made you cum like you hadn’t in months. And now suddenly you had both at once, and you were pretty sure it was going to cost you your mind. 
“Jake, fuck,” you keened, your back arching off the couch.
Jake didn’t respond, too busy lapping up your release and thrusting into you. His tongue traced a maddening pattern over your clit as his fingers pressed deeper into you, stretching you.  
“You taste even sweeter like this, baby,” he mumbled into you, and you moaned as you felt his words. His fingers brushed something deep inside of you and you couldn’t breathe; you reached for Jake’s hair, pulling desperately, hoping he could read how impossibly taut you were. 
“You know something,” he mused, like it was the calmest thing in the world, “you came so quick, didn’t you? Came once you had something fucking you, and it was so beautiful, honey…but I never got to hear you beg.” 
“Jake,” you whispered, his name the only word you could manage, the only thing you could say with his fingers brushing that spot and his mouth just a breath away from you. 
“Nah,” he said, his voice low, “I know you could do it so prettily. Won’t you do it for me, sweetheart, won’t you let me hear it? Let me make you cum again?”
He kissed you again, his mouth light and teasing, brushing caresses over your mound but not where you were aching, throbbing, for him. His fingers slowed, torturously, pushing you closer but not fast enough, and you felt your eyes filling again. What was he asking for?
What was anything, what did he need?
“Jake, please,” you gasped, your voice thick. “Please, please—”
“Please what, baby?” Jake asked, another soft kiss. “What do you need?”
“I need to cum,” you practically sobbed. “Please, need it so bad, please, Jake—need you so bad, need you to—”
“That’s right,” Jake practically growled, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it. “You need me. And I’ve got you, honey, so you can let you go, since you asked so nicely, and I’m gonna take care of you…”
His forearm was banded across your waist, holding you still as his fingers found that spot inside of you, pressed up against it, and your thighs shook as your second orgasm bowled over you. Jake’s tongue was over your clit, then his lips closed, and when you thought you might be ready to let go of the high, he sucked, and you fully shattered. You could feel your nails raking into his back, feel his responding groans through the mouth still pressed to your cunt, as your world dissolved into white heat. It swept over you and you stopped trying to ride it, just let yourself be thrown, buffeted by Jake’s mouth, Jake’s fingers, Jake’s soft words.  
“Fucking gorgeous, baby, you did so good,” Jake was murmuring into the skin of your stomach. His fingers were still inside of you, gently rocking but no longer trying to stimulate you. It would’ve brought tears to your eyes, if they weren’t already streaming, how tender he was being with you. The whiplash was incredible—how quickly he’d brought you to orgasm, how easily he’d denied you, how thoroughly fucked out you were, now that he’d given it to you. 
God, and you hadn’t even had him yet. 
“Jake,” you croaked, your throat hoarse, and he lifted his head to look up at you. 
“What is it, honey?” he asked, voice soft. He was propped up on his elbows, and he shifted slightly, pulling his fingers out of you. You pressed your lips together to stop a whimper from escaping and trying to ignore how empty you felt, and watching quietly as he wiped his hands absently on his pajama pants before looking back up at you. 
You lifted a hand to brush away some of his hair that’d fallen into his face. You shifted slightly, pulling the hem of your tshirt down to wipe at his chin, clean him up a little. It was rough, not the intended purpose of the garment, and Jake laughed a little at the clumsiness of the action, pressing his jaw into your cotton-covered hand, to help you as you wiped at his face. 
You bit your lip, more to stop yourself from smiling so wide it made you hurt, looking down at him, propped up on his elbows 
He looked proud. 
He looked content, and it made your heart swell uncomfortably in your chest, that he’d look like that after taking care of you. But the longer you looked at him, something like doubt flickered behind his eyes and he cleared his throat, looking away. 
“If…” he started, and he shook his head, like he was clearing the fog after a night out. “Uh, you know, if that’s too much…or not what you wanted, or something, we can just say it was a distraction. You know, to get your mind off the tattoo.”
You hadn’t thought about the thing in what felt like a lifetime.
More importantly, you saw Jake still wasn’t meeting your eyes, like he expected you to say that that’s all this was, and he was worried you’d see too much if you were looking at him when you said it. It broke your heart, that he would push away his own repressed feelings, if it meant protecting yours. 
Although, to be fair, you’d both been more honest in the last thirty minutes than you’d been in the months before, so it was probably on you, as well as him. 
You carded your fingers through his hair again, waiting.
It took another couple seconds, but Jake steeled himself and looked back at you. 
You hadn’t realized you’d missed the green of them. 
In the height of everything, they’d been hooded and dark, the bright color nearly lost in his blown pupils. But like this, clear and sweet, you thought you might like this better. 
“It wasn’t too much,” you said, simply.
Jake’s shoulders dropped, just slightly, and you saw him wanting to contest it, and so you shook your head. 
“I think that’s a conversation for later,” you said gently, “when we’re both a little more clothed, hmm?”
“Oh,” Jake said, his head turning quickly as he looked around for your pajama shorts. “I can reach—”
You wanted to roll your eyes and you wanted to pinch him, just a little, to get him to listen to you. “That’s not what I meant,” you corrected. “I’m not…I’m not ready to be done. Besides, we han’t gotten you off yet.”
“Oh, that’s okay, that’s not what this was about,” Jake said quickly and you tilted your head, pushing yourself up to sitting. 
Jake was still between your spread knees, your faces close together now, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a quick reassurance before you reached between the two of you. 
Jake jumped when your hand slid over the front of his pajama pants, and you felt like cooing. Even through the thick cotton, you felt him respond to your touch. The fabric had to be adding to the illusion, because he felt enormous under the flannel. 
And it was very gentlemanly that this was for you, that he didn’t want this to be a thing about reciprocity, but in a much more tangible way, he’d made you feel infinite, just a few minutes ago. If you could do the same for him, you imagined you’d probably feel just as proud as he had, to see you come undone.
“What’d you say,” you asked innocently, your fingers trailing up the length of him, “about distracting me?”
When you looked back up at Jake, his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, deliberate, like he was holding his breath. 
Sweet man. 
You leaned back up to kiss him gently, waiting for him to kiss you back. It took only a moment, and you bit back a moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. You kissed him softly for a minute, gentle lips, gentle tastes, coaxing. When you pulled back, Jake’s lashes fluttered before he opened his eyes to look at you. 
“I don’t know,” you lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think I’d be pretty distracted if I were choking on your dick, Jake.”
“Jesus,” Jake whispered, and his hips bucked into your touch. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to–”
You licked your lips, his words from earlier coming back to you. “Nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming about for months.”
Jake surged forward, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you to him. You tasted his longing in this kiss, the tight reins he held himself in check with, and how desperately he wanted to give them to you, if only for a moment. You wanted that, and maybe for a little longer. So you kissed him for a moment more, then slid off the couch, settling between his knees like before, but this time, he stayed with his back against the back of the couch, and you were on the ground. 
“Wait,” he said, leaning over to grab a pillow, and gesturing for you to use it under your knees.  
Forget rolling your eyes or pinching him, did you want to marry him?
You shook the thought out of your head, settling on the cushion and reaching up to help Jake slide the pajama pants down. He hooked his boxer briefs along with them, and once they slid past his hips, his cock sprang free. 
“Holy fuck, Seresin,” you whispered, looking up at his face. Jake shrugged, a kind of bashful you hadn’t seen him before. One of his hands fisted his cock loosely, like he needed something to do, and you reached up to pry his fingers away. 
No wonder he walked around like he did. 
As you wrapped your hands around him, replacing his fingers, you couldn’t deny a fresh wave of arousal washed over you. His wasn’t the longest dick you’d seen, but he was thick, a dusty rose color that you’d kill for a lipstick match of—which just made you think of why you were waiting so long to get him in your mouth. 
But he’d teased you, and when you glanced up at Jake, his hands clenched at his sides, his stomach tight, you figured he was due for a taste of his own medicine. 
You kissed up his thighs slowly, loving the contrast of wiry hair over smooth skin, and when you got to his cock, you let out a warm breath over the tip. As you watched, a smooth drop of precum appeared at the edge of his cock, and you frowned in mock sympathy, knowing how worked up he must’ve been from finishing you, while denying himself. 
“Bet you’d beg something pretty yourself, Jake,” you teased softly, licking at the drop of moisture and pulling his salty taste back into your mouth. You hummed, immediately salivating for more, but Jake’s hips jerked up as he choked in a breath.
“Darlin’...” he said, his voice low, and you had mercy on him, not needing to hear the words to know how badly he wanted this. 
“Good thing I’m nicer than you, hmm?” you asked, before you licked at him again. 
Jake’s head fell back limply as you tongued his tip, teasing the sensitive head before you licked up the length of him. This was supposed to be for him, but as you were here, you were lost in the exploration of him—the gorgeous weight of him, the musky scent of him, the rich taste, and the sounds he was making. 
You kind of loved how quiet he was being, when it was clearly costing him dearly. 
It meant that when he did burst, it was going to be loud, and you wanted that break. You kissed your way lightly back to his tip, before opening your mouth and pulling him in. 
You’d been joking earlier, about it being distracting, but fuck. The ache to your jaw was immediate, your mouth open as wide as it could to accommodate his thickness. But it felt so good, deeply satisfying, to be able to hold him like this. Warm and thick in your mouth, stretching you—you moaned around him, imagining him filling you. You hollowed your cheeks lightly, sucking, and Jake groaned above you. 
There it was. 
You pushed yourself deeper onto him, holding your breath and fighting your gag reflex, and Jake’s hands shot out to hold the back of your head, his breath a low moan that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. 
You clenched your thighs together, the sound of him and the weight of him had you feeling so empty, while you knew you were physically stretching to your limits. You pulled off of him, a trail of saliva falling from between your lips and his tip, and Jake swore softly at the sight. 
“That mouth, baby,” he groaned, and you felt his thumb trace your lips, smearing your spit across it. You opened your mouth, holding out your tongue and Jake groaned again, feeding his cock back into your mouth.
You felt like he could see straight through you.
That was how it felt, his eyes boring into you as his cock stretched your jaw and his hips pressed slowly deeper. Your nostrils flared and your eyes were streaming again, but you wanted this, wanted him, wanted him to find his release in you, as you had in him. You couldn’t take him all the way down your throat, not now, although you relished the idea of training, so you found a rhythm that seemed to work for both of you. 
Jake’s hips rose slightly to meet you, as you bobbed your head up and down his length, alternating sucking and swirling your tongue over his tip. Your other hands stroked the part of him that you couldn’t fit, squeezing and pulling and you heard Jake’s breathing getting heavier. You were lightheaded, overwhelmed by him, but you couldn’t stop, not for something as simple as air. 
The stretch of him was so good, unrelenting and perfect, and the steadiness with which he held himself in check, it felt like a promise. It made your core ache, throbbing and empty, but you reached up to play with his balls. One of your hands cupped him lightly and then Jake was pulling you off of him. 
You choked at the sudden influx of air as Jake set you back on your thighs, his hands smoothing over your face as he checked you were okay. You couldn’t remember a time you’d felt better, lightheaded and dreamy, but you nodded obediently in answer to the unspoken question, and Jake pulled you to standing. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, but you knew with absolute certainty that you’d follow him.
Mercifully, it was just around the couch, and when you understood his plan, you whimpered slightly, hoping you could take it. You braced your forearms on the armrest of the coach, rocking back on your hips, presenting your ass to him, and Jake was already behind you, covering you. His long arms draped over yours, pressing you into the couch, even as his knee worked between your thighs, spreading your legs. You moaned when you felt his cock slap against your thighs, and one of Jake’s hands fell to between your legs to cup your cunt. 
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, voice somehow both rough and awed. “Is this new? You work yourself up, getting me off?”
You meant to say ‘obviously, asshole’, or ‘as if you didn’t know it’, but what came out was a truly pathetic, “Jake, please…”
He chuckled, his body stretched over yours, and the sound broke off when he guided his cock towards your core. 
“Honey, you’re so wet and warm, fuck. Need to be in you, baby, need to feel this tight cunt—”
“Do it already,” you cried, rewarded by another deep laugh from Jake, and then you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because that thick cock was pushing into you. 
It was a good thing he was holding you up. 
Your body was shaking to accommodate him, already loosened from your orgasms and his fingers, but the stretch still bordered on painful, and you dropped your head to your forearms as he pushed into you. You weren’t doing anything, you were simply there, letting him fuck into you slowly, and you couldn’t think of anywhere better to be. 
“Fuck, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned, and you knew he was trying to go slow, but that didn’t make the stretch any more attainable.
“Need you,” you managed. “Please, Jake, want to be full—”
His hips slammed forward and you cried out as he bottomed out into you. 
You felt impaled, you felt him in your throat, you felt like this was everything you could want and you trembled but held him in you. You felt full, and it was so, so good.  
“Honey,” Jake gritted, “I’ve got to move, but I need to know you’re okay.”
“I’m good,” you whispered, “let me feel you.”
He groaned, another gorgeous iteration of that sound, and when he pulled back, you clawed at the edge of the couch. It was like he was shifting your center of gravity, but the pull was re-orienting. You had no choice but to surrender to it. 
Your whole universe was balanced on the edge of the sofa. 
Jake’s thick cock, stuffing you. Jake’s strong chest, pressed against your back, his arms holding you up, pulling you to him. Jake’s sweat, dripping off of him and onto you, sweet and sticky and heady. The pull and push of him, overwhelming and deep, remaking you. 
You weren’t going to cum from this; it was too much, but it was too good to stop. You’d already had yours, and you could hear how good it was for Jake, could feel it in the tight clench of his hands and the short length of his thrusts. 
Jake groaned, a throaty sound that jolted through you as he pulled you back onto his dick.
“Sweetheart you feel so good…is this what we’ve been missing out on? This tight as fuck cunt, that I can just feel clenching around me? Touch yourself, honey, I need to feel you come again, want to feel you come on my cock.”
You couldn’t be sure if you were crying or babbling, but when Jake told you to play with yourself, you summoned your boneless limbs to do as he asked. 
When your fingers brushed your clit, you immediately pulled back; it was too much. 
“I can’t,” you gasped, hands falling back to brace against the couch. “It’s too much, Jake, I can’t–”
“Poor baby,” Jake gritted, and one of his hands smoothed down your back before dipping around to your stomach and finding his way to your clit. Your knees buckled and your hips jerked away from his hand, but a moment later you were pressing into him, needing the perfect pain of his touch. 
“Honey, you’re doing so good,” Jake’s voice was tight. “God, you feel unreal, clenching down on me like that. Are you gonna cum again? Is this pussy going to cum for me?” 
“Jake,” you sobbed, his name the only prayer you could manage.
“That’s it, baby,” he soothed, his touch gentling, even as his hips sped up. “I’m almost there; I know you are too. Where can I come, honey, where do you want me–”
“Jake,” you moaned, your head thrashing from side to side. It was too much, it wasn’t enough, but you knew you needed him. “In me…please..Jake...”
“Holy fuck,” Jake groaned. “Baby, are you sure I–”
You bucked back into him, the thought of losing his heat and his presence nearly unbearable. “Need you,” you whimpered. “Jake, please–”
“I’m right here,” Jake’s hips pistoned impossibly faster. “Fuck, I’m here, I’ve got you. Shit, honey, you feel so good, you’re gonna make me cum, baby, please–”
He ground his hips deep into you and rolled his fingers over your clit once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out and you felt Jake grunt as he caught you, his hips pounding into you a couple more times and he stilled with another beautiful moan as he pumped his release into you. You felt him, hot and pulsing inside of you, and you wanted to curl up into that feeling forever—warm, full, safe. 
Jake summoned some kind of strength as he turned the both of you, him settling onto the ground and you on his lap, your cunt clenching around him, like you still couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving. You turned into his chest, and Jake wrapped his arms around you, cradling you, somehow knowing how intense that had been and that you needed the warmth of his chest before you could come back down. 
You were shaking, incredibly exhausted but deeply satisfied. And as you drifted back, you became aware of the tangible things around you—Jake’s chest hair prickling your face. Stranger Things still playing, on the TV. The cool air in the room around you, the sticky remains between your thighs. 
You lifted your head to find Jake looking down at you, his expression careful, like he was worried what he’d see. Your eyes closed again, and you managed a smile before you turned your face into his chest again, pressing a kiss to whatever was closest. His hands were locked around your back, but you could feel his thumb brushing over your skin, lightly. And it was wild, that that was what had started this all, and if you’d had the energy for it, you would’ve laughed. 
You could deal with the repercussions later, what this meant for your roommate situation, if your thigh was any worse for wear, any of that. Because that motion, that comforting gesture that Jake didn’t even seem to be aware he was doing—that meant that this was always where you were gonna end up. 
//
tagging: @bradshawsbitch @callsign-fangirl @laracrofted @datemephoenix @mandylove1000 @withahappyrefrain @gigisimsonmars @babyonboardfloyd @blue-aconite @mxgyver @hangmanbrainrot @lt-bradshaw @wildbornsiren @fuckyeahhangman @double-j @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @teacupsandtopgun @thedroneranger
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theharddeck · 5 days
Text
your love is the love i need || chapter 4/4
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pairing: javy machado x femme reader (no y/n), callsign Cross
summary: Javy keeps his promise to feed and fuck Cross.
warnings: 18+, minors please DNI – y'all know who and how I am, so we have dirty talk, explicit PiV sex, f!receiving oral sex, overstimulation, truly just a smidge of body insecurity (like not even a full paragraph, just the natural ramifications of existing in the same space as Javy Machado), i don't even know the tag/tropey name for it, but he's too big/some discomfort/some coaching to fit? size kink of course follows, but that defs happens.
length: 6.7k
A/N: took me approx 900 years to finish it BUT WE DID IT thank you to everyone who cheered for, beta-ed, sent HCs, sent vibes, or anything else to make this fic happen. i'm so glad we all fell so hard for this version of Javy; I just adore him.
chapter one / chapter two / chapter three
The day seemed to last forever. 
Jake flew especially recklessly, Mav took personal offense at that, and everyone suffered the consequences. Hours of drills led to hours of debriefing, followed by exhausted locker-room showers and when you finally, finally, made it off base, you were almost too tired to remember Javy’s promise. 
Almost. 
Tonight, after I’ve fed you…
You were cooking asparagus on the stove, and you snuck a glance at Javy, melting butter in a pan beside you. He’d followed you back from the base, and looked seventy different kinds of handsome, standing in your kitchen. An apron was stretched across his chest, covering his turtleneck and slacks, and you were glad you’d changed into a pretty dress. It wasn’t how you normally dressed off base, but you liked the contrast the two of you made–dressed fancy, barefoot in the kitchen, cooking. 
Every now and then, one of you would move past the other, and the lingering touches let you know you were both excited about the night. 
Dinner came together quickly – gnocchi and asparagus in browned butter and sage, and Javy made a show out of pulling out your chair for you. You pressed your lips together, trying to quell the sappy smile that threatened to overtake your face. Who pulled out chairs anymore?? Javy did – Javy who’d brought groceries, who looked like a GQ cover model, who listened when you spoke and made you feel like there was no place he’d rather be. 
A part of you had wondered if there’d be any lingering awkwardness after this morning, but that hadn’t been the case. You’d just fallen into a rhythm of being near each other that felt so natural, and you’d be nervous it was too-perfect, if you didn’t trust Javy so much. 
After dinner, you slipped into the living room to change the vinyl in the record player, and a moment later, you heard the tap in the kitchen. 
When you came back into the kitchen, Javy was standing at the sink, doing dishes like it was natural. 
“We can use the dishwasher,” you protested, feeling bad that he’d essentially made you dinner while you boiled water for vegetables, but he just shook his head. 
“Won’t take long,” Javy shrugged. “Might as well, you know?”
So of course, you grabbed a dishtowel. 
And this was the dangerous part: doing dishes. Because it didn’t feel like a date, it felt like everything you wanted. Because nights out were glamorous, but someone to clean a kitchen with? Someone who’d bump his elbow against yours, just to make sure you knew he was there, was curious how you were doing. You thought of what he’d said this morning, before everything, about how perfect waking up had been, and you shook your head at him, when he handed you the last plate. 
“I need you to ruin it,” you told him. 
Javy frowned, confused. “Ruin what?”
“Tonight,” you said. “It’s literally the perfect first date, and it’s setting impossible expectations.”
Javy grinned, a lazy smile that was just shy of proud. “Perfect, huh?”
You couldn’t even give him a hard time; it had been. You handed him the towel to dry his hands and started moving around the kitchen to put away plates. 
You didn’t hear him move, but after you’d put the glasses back in their cabinet, he was right behind you when you turned around. One of his warm hands closed around yours, and he pulled you into the middle of the room, shuffling slightly, and the music from the record player filtered into the room, now that the sink wasn’t running, and dishes weren’t clattering. As Jake Isaac sang about waking up to forever, you smiled against the front of Javy’s sweater. 
“This is the opposite of ruining it,” you said into the cashmere, and his chest shook as he chuckled. 
“That was kind of the point,” he said, his voice a soft rumble. 
Of course he was a dance-in-the-kitchen person. 
It wasn’t the most elegant, but it was sweet and gentle, and you loved that he’d made this moment for you both. After the frantic intensity of the morning, after the grueling longevity of the day, after the classic romance of dinner, this was just the perfect nightcap. 
The song faded into another, and Javy spun you slightly in his arms. You smiled to yourself when he twirled you back into him, you back to his front, his arms wrapping around you like a hug. It was the kind of dance that made you feel like you were on a film set in the 40s, all glamorous and elegant, despite what the stars of the time looked like. You swayed together, arms crossed in front of your chest, and you felt his head lower to rest his temple against the side of your face. 
The record faded, and Javy spinned you back. You went out, following his lead, and when he pulled you back to him, the kitchen was quiet as you stood facing each other. You tilted your head, looking up at him. So handsome, so perfectly beautiful, in the dim under cabinet lights. 
He stepped closer to you, moving slow because he was a tease and knew how close desire was lingering under the surface for both of you. His long fingers curled around the back of your neck, prompting you to come closer to him, and you did. He smiled just before he kissed you, something like relief in his eyes, and you understood when his lips brushed over yours.
He kissed you gently, like he was determined to enjoy it, like this was the indulgence he wanted for the night. You felt another hand settle on your jaw as he cradled your face, like you were precious, and your hand slid over the soft material of his turtleneck, resting on his chest. It felt like a fairy tale kiss, romantic and sepia-toned, and you loved it.  
When you broke apart, you were only breathing slightly harder than normal, it’d been that sweet. You looked up at him, your lips tingling and your heart beating fast, and you knew it was time–you wanted good on that promise. 
You weren’t sure what your expression looked like, but whatever Javy read on it had him pulling you back in. 
This kiss was different– charged, hungry. When Javy’s tongue swept over your bottom lip, you opened for him, and he hummed in approval. He deepened the kiss with a confidence that had your head spinning, and your hands crept up from his chest to smooth over his shoulders. His had fallen to your waist, and his big hands were holding you tight to him, and you loved that you could feel how close he wanted you. 
You didn’t break the kiss, but you did step back, pulling him with you. Javy followed you automatically, and you felt his step falter when you took another, walking backwards. 
“You sure?” he asked, his voice a whisper against your lips, and you nodded instead of speaking. You wanted this, and him checking in only confirmed that. Your fingers twined together and he followed you to your room; when you pulled him, he sat on the edge of your bed. 
You liked him here, his soft eyes and broad body taking up space that you always thought of as yours. You stepped between his spread thighs, close as you could get to him, and Javy’s hands trailed up your legs. His touch was light, almost reverent, and goosebumps prickled in his wake, as his fingers traced higher. When his hands trailed unobstructed to your waist, his breath caught, and his fingers traced back over your hips, double checking, before Javy’s hands gripped your hips loosely. 
“Are you serious?” he whispered, his voice almost gruff, and when you tipped your head to the side, shrugging lightly, and Javy groaned. 
Not wearing panties had apparently been the move. 
His hands spanned from your hips to the curve of your ass, and Javy leaned up to nudge the neckline of your dress down with his nose. Your head tipped back as he pressed wet kisses over the upper curve of your breasts, his hands gripping you tightly, almost possessive. Before long you were squirming, entranced by his soft touches, but needing more. 
You reached back to unzip your dress and Javy stilled, sitting back. You tried not to be nervous, but when the zipper reached the bottom stop, you couldn’t make yourself move to push the dress off your shoulders. You had a decent amount of self confidence, but Javy was…Javy. The kind of perfect that wouldn’t show imperfections if he were on a billboard in Chelsea, much less in the muted light of your bedroom. 
You looked into his eyes, read the desire and admiration there, and you bit your lip, suddenly shy. Javy sat up straighter, pressing his mouth to yours in a reassuring kiss. He was so sweet, his mouth felt so good, and you felt his kiss reassuring you. 
“Let me see you, gorgeous,” he murmured, and you nodded, shaking your shoulders so the dress fell. Javy kissed you as the dress pooled over his hands, still gripping your ass like he couldn’t let go of it, and you felt the last of your worries melt away. He wasn’t here because he expected you to look a certain way, but because he wanted you, period. 
He let go of you to let the dress fall, and the moment it was over his hands, he pulled you closer to him. His mouth trailed down the edge of your bra, his tongue teasing under it to lap at your skin, each caress a promise. The feeling of his tongue over, around, through, the lace was maddening, and your hands gripped his shoulders. Javy kissed between your breasts, and then he kissed you over the bra. You clamped your lips shut to trap a whimper as you felt his tongue teasing you through the lace, and you reached back to undo your bra as well. 
“Beautiful,” Javy breathed, and then his mouth was on you again. His lips moved over your breasts and his hands tightened on your ass, and you felt every touch, ever caress. His tongue flicked over one of your nipples, and you squirmed, lifting your head to look down at him. 
His eyes were closed.
As he kissed you, as he felt you, Javy’s eyes were closed like he was lost in the pleasure of pleasuring you, and your desire ratcheted higher. His teeth scraped over your nipples, and you were ready for more.
“Jay,” you gasped, and he made a sound low in his chest, like approval. 
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he asked, pulling back slightly to look up at you. Your heart flipped at the sight of him, his lips swollen from kissing you, his eyes hooded from his own desire.
You tried to think of a way to say ‘everything’ that wasn’t terribly cliche, but came up blank. Whatever was written on your face, Javy’s jaw clenched when he read it, and he smiled up at you. 
“Get on the bed then, yeah?” he said, and you scrambled to follow his ask. 
Javy stood up, pulling his sweater over his shoulders in a movement that looked like it should be in an Ambercrombie TV spot. You couldn’t believe this man was in your room, and you settled back against the comforter, 
“Jesus, baby,” Javy said, his voice lower than you’d heard it before, “What you do to me…” 
Your thighs pressed together tightly to hide your arousal, and how bad you needed him, just from some light petting and kisses. You didn’t even need to ask what he meant, you knew, and you felt the same. Javy undid his belt, holding eye contact as he pulled it from around his waist. 
You thought he’d crawl over you, but instead he closed a hand around your ankle, and pulled you. You squealed as he yanked you down the bed, and before you could register what he was doing, he’d knelt beside it, spreading your thighs around his head. 
“Been waiting all day for this,” he said quietly, more to himself than you, and you propped yourself on your elbows to look down at him. Not that he was looking at you, he was just staring at your cunt, spread before him, arousal pooling and he hadn’t even touched you. 
“Please, Javy,” you whispered, and his eyes fluttered, before flashing up to you. His lips spread in a smile, and he held your eyes as he leaned into you. His breath ghosted over you and your mouth dropped open, you were panting, near breathless in anticipation, and you still weren’t ready for when he touched you.
Your head fell back against the mattress as Javy licked you. A moment later you felt his hands on your thighs, pulling you apart and holding you in place as he practically drank from you. His tongue spread your folds, traced over you and your back arched when he found your clit. He moaned, sending vibrations through you, and you shivered. 
“Fuck, honey,” Javy said, “You taste so good.”
You moaned at his words, and a moment later he was back between your thighs. His tongue teased, stroked, pulled, and when he sucked, your body keened. His elbow pressed across your lower stomach, pining you to the bed, holding your thighs apart with his shoulders as he ate you out. He learned the caresses that you responded to, and then you were nothing but responsive. He licked and you trembled, he kissed and you whimpered, he sucked and you moaned. He had no right being this good, but he was better, and your hips grinded into his mouth, needing him. 
“Javy,” you cried, squirming when he didn’t let you move. 
“Need something, baby?” Javy teased, and your eyes rolled back at the thickness in his voice. 
“Want to come,” you whimpered. “Please, you feel so good–”
“Anytime you want, honey,” Javy soothed, his voice muffled by your pussy. God, how were you gonna get through drills with him, now that you knew how his voice sounded when he was swallowing your arousal. It was so hot, he was so hot, and you felt restless, desperate. 
“Jay,” you whimpered, and his hands shifted. They slid up your thighs, wrapping around the backs of your knees and he folded your legs back, pressing you into the mattress. 
He had you practically bent in half, a position more a testament to his strength than your flexibility, and you felt your core tightening at the absolute power he had over you. You moaned as his mouth closed over you again, slurping obscenely, like you were a feast spread out for him and he was starving. 
And he was drinking from you like this was for him. Like burying his face in your pussy was all he wanted, all he needed, and he was just as desperate for it as you were.
“Come for me, baby,” he mumbled into your cunt. “Let me taste it, been desperate for it since this morning, but now it’s mine, let me have it–”
His tongue and his words pushed you higher and when his mouth closed over your clit, sucking, you shattered. Your orgasm swept over you, thighs shaking, mewling sounds falling from your mouth and Javy fucking groaned into your cunt. 
“Fuck, honey, you taste so good,” he moaned. “So beautiful, such a pretty pussy, and you did so good for me...”
You were obsessed with how he sounded, how he felt and your orgasm ebbed into a tide of needing him, more of him. You reached for him as your head cleared, pushing him away from your still throbbing pussy, and pulling him up. 
God, you loved how his shoulders felt under your fingers. He was so warm, supple, and you knew how good his hugs were, but you were ready for another kind of embrace. You reached for his pants with shaking hands, and Javy chuckled at your enthusiasm before helping you. As his pants slid down his thighs, he reached for the pocket, but you stayed his hand. 
“I’m clean,” you said, your voice hoarser than you thought it’d be. Maybe you’d been making more noise than you thought. If the way Javy’s eyes darkened as he heard it were any indication, he liked how you sounded like this. 
“Me too,” he said, after a moment. 
“Then I don’t need that,” you said, lifting your chin at the slacks, and the condom presumably in a pocket somewhere, “if you don’t.”
You hadn’t realized much Javy was a creature of motion until the moment, when he went completely still. 
“You want me,” he said, his voice so fucking low, so hot, “bare inside your pussy?”
The temperature of the room shot up 15 degrees, you were absolutely sure of it. 
“Please,” was all you could manage, and then Javy tackled you. 
You would’ve laughed, but you were too distracted by how much of his warm body was covering yours. Strong arms, broad thighs, tight stomach, all pressed up against you, as his mouth found yours for an eager kiss. 
You tasted yourself on his tongue and you moaned into his mouth, your hands covering as much of his skin as you could reach. You felt his muscles ripple under your touch–shoulders, back, abs–as you smoothed over his body, trailing down to his boxers. 
After the amount of time he’d spent with your ass earlier, you figured it was only fair to return the favor. Your fingers snuck under the edge of his boxers, slid around to push them over his butt, squeezing experimentally as you did. Javy’s hips slammed forward at your caress and you both gasped. 
He felt huge. 
Maybe it was the angle, him over you, maybe it was the fact that he was between your thighs, but you were breathless at how he felt. You rolled your hips and you groaned as you felt the hard, hot, length of him press against your core, even through the thin cotton of his boxers. 
Javy shucked them off the rest of the way and when he resettled between your hips, you glanced down. You could feel yourself salivating at the sight of his hard dick against your stomach. Everything about Javy was beautiful, you knew that already, but it was one thing to watch him take himself into his hand across a kitchen, and another to see his fat cock against your body. You felt hyper aware, needy, like your whole body was begging to feel the stretch of him, and when Javy pushed off of you to line himself up, it took everything in you to not try to work yourself onto him early. 
When you looked back up at Javy, you were breathless for another reason. He looked fond and smug and amused all at once, and you were just so infatuated with his handsome self. You were trying to come up with something snarky when he moved, his cock sliding between your folds, teasing both of you. Your eyes fell shut at the perfect motion. He was so thick, so hot, it was going to be a hell of a stretch, but you were desperate for it. 
He pulled back, and then pushed against you again, and you actually whined. He laughed, amused, and lined himself up, and then neither of you were laughing. 
When his cock breached you, you couldn’t lay still. 
Your hands scrambled over the bed, scratching sheets and needing to be grounded, anchored, something to help you take the gorgeous pressure of his hot dick. He felt so good, so big and so steady, and your mouth fell open as he pressed in. 
“Fucking Christ,” Javy swore, his voice sounding gone. “You’re so tight, honey, shit.”
You whined, trying to cant your hips to take him, willing your body to give. Your skin felt hot, feverish and you worked your hips for a moment, desperate. He was bigger than anyone you’d been with before, but you’d also already come, and surely it’d be fine–Javy moved again and you winced at the pressure.
This couldn’t be happening. 
You pressed your lips together, knowing you were wet, knowing it was going to be a stretch…but the discomfort only grew.  God, how was this happening? You wanted him so badly, you knew he’d feel good, but Javy pulled back to press into you again and your stomach dropped. 
“Wait,” you gasped, your hands curling into fists against his shoulders. Javy froze, immediately, and it only made you feel worse. You hated this, you wanted to be good enough, you wanted to feel him, why couldn’t you just take it. 
“Cross?” Javy asked, worry clouding his voice and you felt awful. 
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, embarrassed, covering your eyes with your hands. You knew it wasn’t your fault, or even his, but you still felt like you’d done something wrong, like you should be able to just take him. 
“Hey, hey,” Javy said softly, and he pulled out gently, but you couldn’t stop the wince when the pressure eased. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”
You felt the bed shift as Javy moved, settling to sit against the headboard, and immediately pulling you into his arms. You went easily, preferring hiding in his chest to hiding behind your hand, and Javy’s arms were reassuring around you. He was so warm, and you appreciated that he didn’t seem at all frustrated, only concerned that you were okay.  
“Cut that apology shit out right now,” he murmured against your hair. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
You knew he was right, but you hated that you felt this way. Your body was throbbing, desperate to take him, wanting to feel him, but you just…couldn’t. You felt yourself calming down as he continued to hold you, and you could tell Javy felt you settling too. 
“Do you want to stop?” he asked, and your heart thumped, knowing he would. God, he was such a good guy, to jump straight to suggesting you guys stop, rather than trying to find alternatives. 
“I don’t,” you said, truthfully. “I want to be able to take you, I want to keep trying, but I also don’t want it to hurt.”
“Baby…” Javy pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you hated that you could hear in his voice that he felt bad. 
“Can we try another position?” you asked, before he could start apologizing for something that was no more his fault than yours. 
“Whatever you want,” Javy agreed, and you pulled back to look at him. He meant that, he really did. You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his cheek, smiling sheepishly as you pulled back. 
“Why don’t I try being on top?” you suggested.
Javy’s eyes closed and he drew in a slow breath through his nose. 
“Have I told you lately you’re my dream girl?” he asked, and you smiled. 
“I don’t think you’ve told me ever,” you pointed out, not at all bothered by the fact, flattered by it, more than anything. You pushed yourself off his chest, swinging one leg to settle over Javy’s lap, and you were stilled by his hand on your chin. When you met his eyes, his expression was one of utmost sincerity. 
“You are my dream girl,” he said, and despite everything – the fact that you were naked, the fact his head had been between your thighs, the fact his cock was leaking precum between you – that was what made your skin heat. 
You reached between you, your finger running over the length of his dick. 
“Even if I can’t take this right now?” you asked, hating the uncertainty in your voice. 
“No matter if,” he corrected, “you can’t take this right now.” 
His breath caught as your finger traced a vein, but he didn’t look away. He meant it, you realized, and it only made you more determined to take him. You could do it. 
Javy leaned back against the headboard and you positioned yourself over him, guiding his cock to your entrance. You licked your lips and pressed down until it hurt–only a short distance, but it wasn’t as overwhelming this time, because you were entirely in control. 
Javy’s hands smoothed down your side, settling on your ass again, and your lips quirked into a smile, amused that Javy Machado was an ass man. You worked your hips slightly, trying to stretch yourself out, and reached between your thighs to play with your clit. 
Javy groaned.
You looked up at him, but he wasn’t looking at your face; his eyes were glued to where your hand was rubbing over your clit. 
“Such a pretty pussy,” Javy mumbled, almost entranced, and you smiled at his sweet admiration. You spread your fingers into a v, feeling around where he was pressing into you, smoothing back up to your clit. 
“Can’t believe–” he broke off, shaking his head. “I got to see you come this morning, and then on my face, and now I get to watch you work yourself onto my dick.”
He said it like it was an honor, like you weren’t working yourself onto the biggest cock in Uncle Sam’s navy, like it was his privilege. His admiration warmed you, worked through you as your fingers brushed over your clit. You felt your knees slide further apart as you were able to take more of him. The extra inch felt like yards, but it felt so good, so right, to take him into you. 
“You’re doing so good, baby,” he promised, and you realized his hands on your ass were lifting, helping. He was taking some of the weight off your thighs, literally holding you in his hands, so you wouldn’t be pressured to take him too fast. 
“So big, Javy,” you panted. “God, you’re stretching me so good.”
Javy’s hips pushed up slightly at your words, and it stung, but with your hand working your clit and the way he was holding you steady, it was more pressure than pain. 
“You can’t talk to me like that, honey,” he warned. “I’m trying real hard to be gentle here, you can’t talk dirty to me and not make me mess up.���
A part of you wanted him to mess up, wanted him to just ram into you, and you could deal with it later. Another part of you relished the stretch, accepted the slow burn of sinking onto him torturously slow. You felt hyper aware of him, of you, and every millimeter of him that you took, only made you want him more. 
“You talk to me then,” you muttered, and Javy huffed out a laugh.
“What do you want to hear, huh?” he asked. “How fucking good you feel? How hard I am for you, how I feel like I’m throbbing for you, how bad I can’t wait to be inside you?”
Your fingers worked faster, and you moaned, bearing down. “Yeah, that’ll do.”
“We’ll get you there, honey,” he soothed, his cock easing into you, slow and thick and fucking perfect. “With how good you feel around my dick? Honey, we’re not gonna stop. We’re gonna train this pussy, soon enough, she’ll be able to take me.”
You whimpered at the thought, at the mere concept of being so stuffed with Javy’s cock that eventually your body would just adapt to it. You shifted your hips on principle, determined to take more of him, and Javy chuckled. 
“And then can you imagine the hell we’ll get into? Quickies in the shower after a long day of drills, in the back seat of a car–fuck, baby, to think I could slide into this pussy whenever I want, ready for me, to take me–”
He pressed deeper, a motion that bordered on painful, but soothed by the sweetness of his words. You wanted that, so badly, for your body to always be ready for his. Javy pulled back, just slightly, rocking into you, and you whimpered. 
“Feels so good, Javy,” you whispered, feeling yourself sink lower. 
“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he said, leaning forward to brush loose kisses over your skin. “You’re so beautiful, so good, and working so hard to take my dick.”
His words sent goosebumps over your skin, and you wondered if you should be embarrassed by how much you wanted to be good for him. 
It took a while. 
You didn’t know how long, but eventually you realized that though you were still shaking, you were no longer hovering. You were in Javy’s lap, your arms curled between your bodies and your hips pressed flush against his, his cock entirely inside of you. 
He felt…unreal. Enormous, like you could only breathe when he did, but so fucking good. 
“I did it,” you breathed, and when you looked up at Javy, he was grinning down at you. He looked proud, he looked pleased, he looked so damn pretty you wanted to never leave his lap.
“How’s it feel?” he asked, and you took a moment to bask in his pride. 
“Pretty good,” you teased lightly, and Javy had the expected reaction of affronted indignation. 
“Pretty good,” he sputtered, like it was sacrilege. “Wanna try again?”
You shook your head, smiling, and it was knocked right off your face when he lifted his hips. It wasn’t a thrust, it wasn’t like he’d pulled out, but Javy pushed up into you like he was doing a hip press at the gym. Your jaw dropped open as his thighs flexed under your ass, pushing impossibly deeper into your cunt. 
“So full,” you gasped, and Javy grunted like that was an acceptable answer. “Fuck, Javy, you feel so big. I can’t– feels like you’re everywhere; I love it.”
“That’s better,” he muttered, his voice dark. “Because you feel like fucking everything to me, honey. So tight, and warm, fitting me like a glove after you worked so hard to stretch this pussy over me.”
You did feel stretched and his words sent pulses of heat through you. The burning stretch of him eased as your body tingled with arousal, wanting to feel him, needing to feel him. 
“Need you to move, Jay,” you whispered, and Javy’s hips punched up in response. 
“You need me,” he repeated almost to himself, and you both moaned when his dick slid out of you partway, before he fed it back to you slowly. “That’s right, sweetheart, first you were embarrassed because you couldn’t take it, but now that you have this cock, you just want more?”
“Please,” you whimpered, astonished to find you were actually close to tears. You wanted that, wanted him, wanted the stretch and the pressure and the motion of his hips. You tried to lift yourself off of him, but your legs were shaking so bad, so overstimulated by the fullness of him in you, but you were desperate for it. 
“S’okay, baby,” Javy practically purred, his voice sweet and dark and deep. “I’ll help you.” 
His hands closed around your waist, gripping you tightly. He lifted you off his cock, pulling his hips back and then bringing you back down into him. You moaned at the sensation, perfect and overwhelming and so strong, feeling every gorgeous inch of his cock. 
“Feels so good,” you mumbled, and Javy groaned. 
“Honey, you have no idea,” he grunted, and he lifted you again. 
It was slow, it was impossibly deep, but it was everything. You felt drunk on the deep stretch of him, the way you could feel his eyes on you, the way every breath he took you felt against your skin. You felt so connected to him, so overwhelmed by him, and the slow press of his cock. He pulled you forward, rocking your hips down into him and when your clit brushed against him, you jolted. 
“That’s it,” Javy encouraged, pushing his cock deeper, and you felt your body trembling. “Honey, you’re doing so good. You feel so fucking good around me, I can’t–”
He settled into a rhythm, pulling you up and bringing you down, bruising your clit and fucking you against gravity. He moved you over him like a fleshlight and you had no control over your body, the sounds spilling out of you. He felt so good, so slow and steady and deep; it was perfect and you were overwhelmed. 
“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, amazed to find it was true. Just from the steady press of him, the deep pressure, the teasing brush of your clit, you were somehow there again. 
“Ah, please, honey, let me see it,” Javy groaned, and he buried his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms around him, clinging to him as he moved you over him, your body climbing higher. 
You felt him everywhere, like a heartbeat, like your pulse, and you crested before you could realize it was there. Your body felt liquid, like it would never stop shaking, like this was what you were made for, to take his cock like this. Your head swam as you slumped into him, your hips throwing your pussy at Javy as your orgasm worked through you, your body pulsing and sated.  
The room was a dreamlike haze as you came back to yourself. 
You were on your back on the bed, and Javy was hovering over you, and your breath caught in your throat as you realized his arms were shaking with the effort to hold himself still. 
God, he was so beautiful. 
His perfect body, his incredible strength, had nothing to the beauty of his heart, the way he had worked you through that and was now carefully watched you, smiling hesitantly when he realized you were back. Your throat felt hoarse and you swallowed slightly before lifting your hips weakly. 
Javy’s breath punched out of him and his eyes clenched shut as he dropped to his elbows over you. 
“Sweetheart…” he groaned, and his voice sent tingles over your skin. You loved how strung out he sounded, how he was holding on just by a thread, and you wanted him to come undone. 
“Fuck me, Jay,” you whispered, and his eyes opened, looking between yours. 
“Yeah?” he asked, his voice hoarse, and you needed it, suddenly. You nodded, pressing your lips together, wanting it more than anything. You knew you were adjusted to his size, for the immediate future at least, and you wanted to know how he’d feel finding his pleasure in you, driving into you when his release was the goal, wanted to be the reason for it. 
“I can take it,” you whispered, and Javy surged up to kiss you. 
It was messy, mostly gasping breath and clashing teeth, and then his arms wound under your back, and his hands wrapped around your shoulders as he settled into you. You were just about to think that it was a sweet embrace, when he started moving. 
Javy pulled out of you and slammed back in, and you cried out. 
Gone was the gentleness with which he’d coaxed you, gone was the steady control, the gentle pace. In its place was a gnawing, gaping desire, and you could feel how badly Javy needed this. You moaned with the thrust and it seemed to spur Javy on. He pulled back and pushed back in again, just as deep, just as strong, just as perfect. 
Fuck, he was so big, filled you so damn well like this, and how he was moving made you dizzy. He settled into a punishing pace that left you breathless, but who needed air, when you had dick this good? 
He was everywhere. 
Pressing you into the mattress, shoving his cock into your cunt, clutching you to him, overwhelming and everywhere and everywhere. You couldn’t tell where he stopped and you began, felt like an extension of his pleasure and the thought nearly sent you out of your mind. 
“How is it still so tight?” Javy grunted, and you moaned at the tremble in his voice, like he was just as awed and exhausted as you were. “Fuck, honey, you’re so perfect. Taking me so damn well, pulling me into this hot cunt, it’s so good–” 
His hips slammed into you, each stroke brushing your walls and making you feel so full. His body weight over you felt like the only thing grounding you, and you moved with him, for him, all for him. The room was thick with the smell of your shared sweat and your cum, and Javy’s panting breath in your ears was the perfect chorus. 
You could feel Javy getting close, could feel his thrusts go from determined to desperate and you were lost in it. For how well he’d fucked you, how carefully he’d held you, you needed him to come. Heat spiraled through you, your mind blanking as you realized you were whining with each sure stroke he made. 
“Need you to come,” you whimpered, breaking off when Javy’s hips stuttered. “Please, Javy, feels so good, need to feel you–”
Javy arched his back to kiss your neck. His teeth closed over your skin, his tongue laving over you, and you moaned. 
“You know how to make that happen, sweetheart,” he whispered against your neck, and you shook your head as his meaning sunk in. 
“I can’t,” you managed, even as your thighs started shaking. He’d pulled so much pleasure from your body, and you didn’t know if you could survive another wave…oh, but how he sounded. His soft grunts, the growl in his voice, the heavy sound his balls made as he pushed into you. 
“I think you can,” Javy said, closing his lips and sucking. You keened, your body overwrought and unmoored, just orbiting around him. His strong hands, the taste of his sweat, the rhythm of his hips, the only things that were real. 
His hands on your shoulders tightened, crushing you to him and something in the angle changed. He brushed a different part of you, deeper, softer, and your breath caught.
“Just there?” Javy asked, proud and breathless. “That’s the spot that’ll get this pussy to come again?”
“Javy–” you moaned, as he hit it again, and again.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Javy soothed, his dick driving into you. “You’ve done so good for me, this pussy has been so fucking good, and I know you can do it again. Let me feel it, honey, let me feel this tight pussy come for me one more time, fucking take it, come on.”
He was fucking you into the bed, his thighs and his words reorienting your world. You felt so full of him, so precious and receptive and you knew that you might never recover from it, but if he asked you to come again, your body would do it. 
“Baby,” you whimpered, and Javy groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. 
“I’ve got you,” he mumbled into the bed. “Ah, shit, honey, you feel so good. Like you were made for me, to take this cock–oh my god, yes, that’s it, just like that…”
“Take me,” you begged, “Please, Javy, I need–”
“Yes, fuck,” Javy groaned, his thrusts turning frantic. “Kiss me.”
You didn’t know where he found the strength but he surged up to kiss you, pressing your lips together as your bodies writhed together. You pushed and pulled together, breathing from each other and for each other, and the heat burned impossibly hotter between you. You felt light-headed, you felt close and Javy moaned as you tightened around him. You whined against his lips as you came, your orgasm cresting over you, and just moments later, Javy shouted as he came. He was so wonderful, his body thrusting into yours, his hips working you both through it, his groans growing louder as he emptied into you. 
It felt right, it felt final, as his warm cum thrust into you, and you turned your head to find him again. 
This was a lazy kiss. Indulgent and sloppy, exhausted and messy, and you smiled when you felt Javy come back to you, returning the kiss slowly. You liked that his arms were still around you, that his dick was still inside you. You felt held, treasured, at peace. 
You kissed Javy gently, another realization brewing in your mind. 
Here, with this man, you felt at home. 
//the end
taglist: @laracrofted @mxgyver @callsign-fangirl @cheekymcgrath @blowmymbackout @daggerspare-standingby @javihoney @sebsxphia @princessphilly @roosterforme @rae-gar-targaryen @hangmanssunnies @blckgrl-sunflower @beyondthesefourwalls @callsignspark @sushiwriterhere @taytaylala12 @katiedid-3 @stoptaking-the-good-names @passion-persistence-patienc-blog @hangmanbrainrot
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theharddeck · 1 year
Text
the best me has his arms around you (jake x f!reader)
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pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x fem!reader
summary: after a long deployment, Jake and his girlfriend share a slowdance after Javy's wedding. this fic was created as a part of @roosterforme 's #love is in the air tgm challenge 💕based off the song yours, by russell dickerson
warnings: none! just some soft, wedding-provoked, feelings if y'all want a part 2 with welcome home smut, do lmk
wc: 1.3k
It was a beautiful wedding.
The evening was cool, illuminated by twinkling lights strung around the courtyard of a historic hotel in Old Town San Diego, weaving among colorful strands of papel picado. Coyote and Cross had said their vows in the golden afternoon and the party had been going strong ever since. You were now at the point in the night where jackets were draped across the backs of chairs, beside high heels that had been unbuckled and abandoned, as guests were too tired to keep up appearances, but having too good of a time to call it a night. 
You liked the height that your heels had given you, but your arches were suffering the consequences; Jake had known you would want to stay on the floor so he’d pulled you into his arms and balanced your bare feet on top of his cowboy boots. The thick leather was sturdy under your toes, and you locked your elbows around his neck and let your boyfriend dance for the both of you. It was more a sway than a dance, a soft and comfortable rocking as Jake moved you around the courtyard. You pressed your face into the soft material of his dress shirt still somewhat disbelieving that he was back. 
He and Javy had been deployed at the worst time, the two of them barely making it back overseas in time for rehearsal dinner. You’d seen Jake last night, but they’d both been exhausted from the travel, and bridesmaids and groomsmen were bunking together anyway, so tonight was the first time you really felt like you had your boyfriend back. 
“You wanna sit down?” Jake asked quietly, his voice rumbling against your cheek. You shook your head against his chest, not wanting to break the moment. To be here, to hold him, to be held—it didn’t matter if your feet were bleeding raw, you’d have stayed. 
So you did stay. 
The DJ wound down, reading the energy shift, moving to softer songs, even taking slow dance requests. Older couples were drifting away, the bride and bridegroom quietly bidding everyone goodnight, until the only ones left were the ones who needed the quietness more than they needed the tradition. Jake’s hand was smoothing up your back slowly, playing with the chiffon gathered at the small of your back. 
Cross had done well in picking bridesmaid dresses that weren’t awful, and you felt more like a Grecian goddess rather than a bridesmaid cliche. You felt Jake’s hand lift, and turned your head to see Harvard and his girl waving goodbye to him as they headed out. Brigham tipped his hat—his actual stetson, since apparently your boyfriend wasn’t the only cowboy in this place—at Jake and when the DJ’s next pick sounded notably more country than the previous selection, you knew it was Brigham’s doing. 
Jake’s arms tightened around you as a steel guitar echoed around the courtyard, and you settled back into him. You’d probably need to call it a night soon; it’d been a long couple of days, and you needed to get back into a rhythm before rejoining the real world after the haze of reunions and the wedding. But for now, this moment was perfect, and you didn’t want to end it. 
Jake coughed quietly, like he had something stuck in his throat but was trying to be quiet about it. Your hand slipped from around the back of his neck to his upper back when he kept coughing, and your brow wrinkled as you pulled back, the peace of the moment evaporating when you saw Jake’s face was red. 
“Let me get you some water—” you started, but Jake didn’t let go of you.
“It’s fine,” he said hoarsely, trying to pull you back into him, but you shook your head, stepping off his shoes. 
“Jake, it’s not; let me—”
Jake huffed, running a hand over his chin, smiling sheepishly at you. His eyes were watery, and you were wondering if you should grab something other than water, when he let out a long breath through his nose.
“It’s the song, honey,” he said, voice gravelly, and you blinked at him. 
“What?” you asked, reaching up to push some of his hair out of his face. As he looked down at you, you realized him clearing his throat was to hide a rush of emotion. Jake pulled at you gently, asking, and you stepped back into his arms, giving him the space he needed to tell you what was going on. 
“Just glad I’m yours, sweetheart,” he whispered into your hair, turning you slowly around the floor.
Your heart clenched at his simple words, overflowing at having him here, having him at all. It was always hard for him to be away, it always hurt, but this sweet man? Made it all worth it.
And he’d scoff at the adjective, probably pull up his shirt to flex his abs or wiggle his eyebrows suggestively while reminding you of his other winning attributes. 
But past all his bravado and charm, past the way he seemed determined to keep people at arm’s length to protect them, past his need to remind people of how good he was, worried they wouldn’t think it unless he told them, past it all, he was a good man. You were just grateful you were the one he let close enough to find it out. 
You wrapped your arms around him again, letting the lyrics of the song settle over you as Jake swayed both of you. 
I came to life when I first kissed you
The best me has his arms around you
You make me better than I was before
Thank God I’m yours
Jake was humming along to the song, and you felt the vibration through his chest. You tightened your arms around him, your eyes closing as you leaned into his chest. 
It felt like peace, being here with him. 
Rocking slowly, held in the cradle of his arms. If you breathed deep, you could catch the remains of his cologne, determinedly lingering hours after it’d been applied, but stronger was the smell of his sweat. Soft and sweet, the familiar scent that’d long washed off the sheets and pillowcases in your shared home. 
The thought of it sent a wave of deep contentment through you and you pulled up to look at Jake. Both of your eyes were a little misty, and as the last notes of the song faded out, you leaned up to brush a soft kiss to his lips. Jake’s hands tightened slightly around your waist, but his lips were gentle as he returned your kiss, like he also felt the reverence in this moment. 
You pulled back, heart nearly bursting at the sight of him this close. The soft shadow of his lashes, the way his nostrils flared as he pulled in a deep breath, the way his once-perfectly-styled hair now fell slightly in his eyes.
You reached up to brush the golden strands away from his face, your fingers tracing from his cheekbone down to his Cary Grant chin, teasingly poking at the divet there. Jake’s mouth twitched into a smile, before he caught your hand in one of his, brushing a soft kiss against your knuckles. It was your turn to smile, then, a reaction you couldn’t stop any more than you could your next breath. 
“Take me home, Lieutenant?” you asked softly, and Jake lowered your hand from his lips, but his fingers stayed entwined in yours. You walked around the few couples remaining on the floor, and when you got to your table, you picked up your heels while Jake draped his suit jacket over your shoulders. 
The cobblestones were cold under your feet as you walked back to the car, but your hand was held warmly in Jake’s, his jacket settled on your shoulders, and you knew it was you—you were the lucky one, to be his. 
//
smutty part two (please check your warnings and minors DNI!)
//
tagging: @bradshawsbitch @callsign-fangirl @laracrofted @mxgyver @princessphilly @hangmanbrainrot @wildbornsiren @datemephoenix @fuckyeahhangman @lt-bradshaw @double-j @teacupsandtopgun @gigisimsonmars
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theharddeck · 1 year
Text
as if it doesn't turn you on, just to say it
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basically I saw @hangmanapologist 's post (💙) and immediately opened a Google doc. the s t u n n i n g Rhett/Lewis edit is from Robyn as well!!
pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!reader
summary: you convince Bob to dress up as your favorite show for a Halloween…and he looks way better than you could’ve prepared for
warnings: 18+ minors please DNI!! smut, swearing, explicit unprotected piv sex, explicit oral (m!receiving) sex, and mild sacrilege.
unofficial tag list (lmk if you want to be added or removed, i just tagged people who are equally feral for bob or who were nice to me once about my work): @wildbornsiren @peakyrogers @javihoney @fuckyeahhangman @thedroneranger @princessofglitterland @gigisimsonmars @thedroneranger @laracrofted @bioodforbiood @winterrebel04 @javihoney @withahappyrefrain @rhettabbotts @roosterforme @bradshawsbitch
Bob’s voice was muted as he spoke through the bathroom door. You stood in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom, rubbing absently at your red lipstick, a matte liquid product that stuck to your lips with apparently industrial strength. You hoped the same could be said of the boob tape you were placing entirely too much trust in, for something that was $16, and from Target. You tilted your head at your reflection, pleased with the overall effect.
Rationally, you knew it was just a black jumpsuit—a halter neckline, a wide pant leg, a strategic opening over the breastbone—but with the red lipstick and fake cigarette, it felt like a suit of armor. 
Rationally, you knew it was just a black jumpsuit—a halter neckline, a wide pant leg, a strategic opening over the breastbone—but with the red lipstick and fake cigarette, it felt like a suit of armor. 
It was as if Phoebe Waller Bridge herself was your fairy godmother, and had appeared in a thought bubble in your subconscious to tell you that you looked smashing, or something equally British and charming.
And, since your boyfriend had been convinced to don a matching costume, you were ready to see his look for the night. 
“What do you mean?” you called, fussing with the approximation of Fleabag’s haircut you’d achieved with an array of pins.
“It just looks like a priest’s robe,” Bob’s voice came through the door again, confusion and indecision in his tone. “I’m really not sure what the effect is supposed to be.”
You smiled to yourself. “Why don’t you let me tell you how effective it is?” you asked. 
You heard the bathroom door creak open, and Bob’s head stuck out of it. His costume was hidden by the door, but his eyes met yours in the mirror, before running down over the jumpsuit. 
“You look amazing,” he said softly, and you smiled as you turned to face him. His compliments always settled over you like sunshine, warming you from your skin inwards, his sweet conviction brokering no room for argument.
“Thank you,” you smoothed your hands over the front of your slacks. “Can I see yours?”
Bob’s nose wrinkled slightly, and he turned his head sideways, leaning against the door, using it like a shield. 
“I just look like a priest,” he complained meekly, “while you look so hot.”
“A million fanfics would suggest that those are not mutually exclusive,” you cajoled. “Come on, let me see it.”
Bob sighed, opening the door, and while you wished your reaction was for the sake of dramatics, it was entirely lacking in pretense. 
He looked so good. 
You’d known Hot Priest would be a great costume for your boyfriend, since the Andrew Scott trifecta of broad shoulders, big hands, and a soft smile was practically custom-made for Bob. But you hadn’t been prepared for just how well it would suit him. 
The high white collar was stretched across his throat, emphasizing the width of his neck, and leading down to his shoulders. The black robe was unassuming enough, but it wasn’t enough to hide the definition of Bob’s shoulders and chest. If anything, it highlighted them by contrast. You’d always been attracted to the dichotomies within Bob—his strength and his softness, his gentleness and his discipline—and the vestment was putting them on blast.
He looked like a good man who fucked, and you must've had quaker ancestors, because it was really, really working for you.
The only other exposed skin was his hands, which was a whole other blessing. 
He had great hands. 
His long fingers were fidgeting under your perusal, and you dragged your eyes back up his body as Bob waited for your verdict. His hair was a little longer than normal, and you noticed the ends of it curling up around that damn collar, and you were practically itching to run your fingers through it. 
“Alright,” Bob grumbled, somehow uncertain as to how to interpret your reaction, “let’s have it.”
“Babe,” you shook your head. “I literally cannot even tell you how good you look.”
Bob’s eyes narrowed behind his glasses, looking down at himself. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” you assured him. “Like… like the female gaze personified; it’s actually ridiculous.”
He pushed his glasses up on his nose, shifting between his feet and pulling at the collar. 
Just that simple motion, a long finger tucked under that white fabric, and you wanted to call Penny and tell her you were sorry, but you and Bob actually couldn’t come to the Hard Deck’s Halloween party tonight. 
Instead, you crossed the room, determined to be PG, and wound your hands around his neck, smiling up at him. “Thank you for agreeing to this,” you said. 
Bob’s hands came around your waist easily, his shoulders relaxing as he felt the press of your body against his. 
“Of course,” he said automatically, and you knew he meant it. He was simple like that—if it would make you happy, he’d do it. You squeezed your arms a little tighter around him, and Bob immediately adjusted his grip, always willing to match you.
You shook your head, looking up at him fondly. “You’re too good to me,” you told him, honestly. 
“You make it easy,” Bob said, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.  Bob’s hand ran up and down your spine slowly, a soft touch allowed by the open back of the jumpsuit. You snuggled into him, grateful and enamored and a hundred other things much wholesome than your reaction to his costume. You stayed that way for a long moment, wrapped in each others’ arms and your own thoughts, quietly charging before you’d face the adventure of Halloween with the rest of the dagger squad.
+++++
“We are good friends,” you announced, as Bob locked the door to the apartment, some four hours later. 
“Absolutely top drawer,” Bob agreed. 
The two of you had braved a costume contest (Jake and Javy won), obligatory thematic drinks (neither you nor Bob loved the taste of gin, but you couldn’t do Fleabag and not sip G&Ts), and Rooster playing his entire repertoire of spooky Halloween songs on The Hard Deck’s piano (twice). 
It had been fun, it had. 
It had also been exhausting. 
You kicked off your heels without finesse, and Bob sighed tiredly as he leaned over to undo the laces of his dress shoes. You smiled at the image of him, his large body bent over in the small hallway to arrange the shoe rack; he lifted a hand in your direction without looking up, and you slid your heels over to him with your toe. 
He looked up at you, smiling briefly, and his thumb brushed over your ankle in acknowledgment as he arranged your shoes next to his. 
You held out a hand to pull him up and he took it, straightening and stretching his back as he rose. His arm draped loosely over your shoulder as you walked down the hall, his fingers still playing with the hand you’d offered him. 
“The costumes were a hit,” he mused. “I couldn’t believe how many people had seen that show.”
You nodded, knowing he could feel the motion from your head on his shoulder. “It won like forty Emmys, with good reason.”
“Alright, you have great taste,” Bob teased softly. “No need to rub it in.”
You laughed as the two of you tried to fit through the bedroom door at once, not quite small enough to make it through without some maneuvering. Once through, you rose up on your toes to press a kiss to Bob’s cheek. 
“Thanks again,” you whispered. “For doing the costume thing.”
When you settled back on your heels, Bob followed you, his head ducking to capture your lips again. 
It was one of your favorite things about Bob, that he kissed you just to kiss you, to say any number of things he meant, with simple affection. He broke the kiss softly, his forehead still against yours, and one of his hands tucked some of your hair behind your ear. 
“You don’t have to thank me for doing something that makes you happy,” he said quietly, and your heart just melted. He was so special, so sweet without even trying. 
“Love you,” you said simply, and Bob hummed, before kissing you again. 
“Love you, too,” he said. 
You stood there for a moment, smiling sappily at each other, before Bob laughed to himself. “Although, maybe next year, we go for a costume that I can wear more than once?”
“I mean,” you shrugged, looking at his costume appreciatively, “let the record show that I am all for you bringing this look out, unprompted, whenever you want.”
Bob chuckled. “I’ll bear that in mind. Come on, let’s get changed.” 
He leaned in to kiss you again quickly, but your fingers tightened on the front of his robe when he pulled back, an idea streaking across your mind. 
“Or…” you trailed off, not sure if you wanted to open the door, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you considered. Bob’s hand eased its way up the side of your neck, his thumb tracing across your lip until you released it. 
“Or?” he prompted, quietly. 
“Or you could keep it on,” you said in a rush.
Bob’s hand on your jaw stilled, and he pulled back slightly to look at your face. Whatever he saw had his eyes widening, his breath catching, and then his mouth curved into a small smile. 
“Thought you were tired, honey,” he teased, his thumb brushing your cheek.
“I am,” you admitted, pausing. “But I know a good way to get me to sleep.”
Bob laughed against your skin, a fond sound, before bending down. His lips trailed warm kisses across your collarbone as his hands slipped behind you to undo the jumpsuit. You knew what he was doing, giving you time to decide if you wanted to get ready for bed or for sleep, since either would need you out of the jumpsuit, but your body responded to his touch without rationale. He hummed when you leaned into his touch and he pulled back to look at you.
“Incorrigible,” he said, and you smiled, unbothered. 
“Is that a no?” you asked.
Bob’s fingers were still fiddling with the fastenings of the jumpsuit and you knew you could help him, but you liked how close he was, how his hands felt, how everything had felt since he opened the bathroom door hours ago, looking like this. 
“It’s not a no,” he whispered. He got the final clasp and the garment fluttered down your body, pooling around your ankles. 
Bob’s hands immediately smoothed over you, his touch warming your bared skin, and you shivered at the contrast. His long fingers ran up your sides, his broad palms settling over your breasts; you leaned into his touch as he lifted them, your eyes falling shut as you breathed his name.
“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Bob asked softly. “I know we watched the show together, but how much are you wanting this to draw from it—is this roleplay, just the idea, what–”
“Anything,” you whispered, your voice breathier than you expected. Bob’s hands tightened on you, at your eagerness, and when you looked up at him, you saw the desire in his expression. 
“Okay,” Bob said, his voice soft, as he pressed another kiss to your lips, reassuring. “You just tell me if it’s too much, okay?”
You nodded, appreciating him checking in, but knowing you didn’t need it. You’d always been able to be honest with Bob, about what you needed or wanted, and you knew this wouldn’t be any different.
He lifted his chin, his eyes running down to your mouth as he licked his lips, before saying in a low voice, “Kneel.”
You whimpered.
Actually whimpered, a sound that ripped out of you at the perfect contrast of your doting boyfriend with the steely command from the show, one that brokered no discussion. Bob’s eyes darkened at the sound, but he raised an eyebrow, and you complied, sinking to the floor of your bedroom. You saw his jaw clench at the immediacy of your response, but that was the only indicator that he was affected, every other component of his expression radiating control. 
“Good girl,” he said, and your lashes fluttered at his low tone. Bob’s nails brushed across your forehead as his fingers ghosted over the top of your head, settling at the back of your scalp. 
“Or maybe not,” he said, in that same, low tone, a hint of unfamiliar condescension creeping in, “you got on your knees awful quick there, honey.”  
Your head tilted back at his touch, one of your hands coming up to balance yourself by resting on the front of his thigh. Through the black cloth you could feel his strong thighs, tensing under the brush of your fingers, and when you looked back up at him, he was watching you through half-closed eyes. 
“So pretty,” he said softly, almost to himself. “Take it out.”
You reached for him eagerly, finding the buttons in the robe and undoing them to find the loose slacks underneath. Your hands were nearly trembling with excitement as you felt the hot length of him through his trousers, and Bob drew in a sharp breath when your fingers brushed over his erection. Bulge was such an unglamorous word, but it was only accurate as you ran your hand over the length of him. You couldn’t help but lean forward to press a kiss against the straining material of the trousers. 
Bob groaned quietly, a faint sound that streaked ribbons of heat through you, and you returned to your initial prerogative. When you finally pulled him free of the vestment, you sat back on your thighs, admiring his thick length in your hand. Long and broad, veins tracing up the side of it, a drop of moisture pearled at the tip, and you were practically salivating as you leaned towards him again.
Your hand angled at the base of his cock and you licked your lips as you leaned towards him, but Bob’s hand on your hair tightened, pulling you back. He held you in place and you looked up at him to see him shaking his head. 
“Ask me nice,” he said, his hand tightening in your hair. His jaw was slack but his eyes were sharp as he watched you, wanting it as bad as you did, knowing how begging would make you feel. 
“Want to taste you,” you whined, a breath away from him. You wanted the weight of him on your tongue, your lips stretching around him, your name on his moan when you made him feel good. “Please, Bobby.”
He shook his head, readjusting his grip on your hair. 
“Who?” he asked, his voice low.
“Fuck,” you clenched your thighs together, as his words rolled over you. “Father,” you tried, and Bob groaned, a long low sound. 
“That’s right, baby,” he gritted, and his hips snapped forward.
Your mouth had been open, tongue eager, but he pushed past your lips so quickly that you barely registered the salty taste of him on your tongue before his thick cock was pressing at the back of your throat. Tears pricked at your eyelids, but you hollowed your cheeks as Bob pressed into your throat, your hands steadying yourself on his thighs again. 
You moaned around him, feeling your panties growing damp at the weight of him. He was so big, and he was trying to stay still, but his cock twitched in your mouth, little pulses that had your thighs quivering. 
Bob pulled back, all the way out of your mouth, and you gasped in a breath of air when his cock pulled free. With his hand in your hair holding you steady, he traced your lips with his cock. The swollen head rubbed against your lips, your saliva ran between your mouth and his cock, messy.
“Baby, this mouth,” Bob moaned. “You gonna let me fuck it?”
“Please,” you whispered, another pulse of arousal going through you when your polite boyfriend swore, opening your mouth wider as Bob dragged his cock against it again. 
“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Bob said, and he pushed back into you again. 
You held your breath as he eased into you, stretching your jaw and pushing back into your throat. When he was seated, you heard him sigh, something breathy and beautiful, and you swallowed obediently. His hips jerked forward as you tightened around him, and his other hand came down to hold the side of your face. 
“Doing so good for me, beautiful girl,” he praised softly, as he pulled back. He held you in place with his hands, his thighs pumping his cock into your open mouth, and your eyes filled with tears as he choked you on his cock.
He was so big, something you often forgot due to the gentleness with which he handled you, but when he got like this, it was unavoidable. His hands nearly spanned the back of your head, his thumbs coming forward to wipe your tears as they spilled out of your eyes, his large cock blocking air through your throat. You moaned as his thrusts got faster, knowing he loved this enough to be rough, to be wild for once, that your body was the vessel he was using for his pleasure. 
When you looked up at him, he was looking down at you, his eyes dark and cheeks bright with color. 
“Fuck, baby,” he panted, and you whined at the obsenity, “you’re taking me so well, honey, making me feel so good, that pretty lipstick stretched around my dick—”
Your head was swimming from the lack of air and his praise, and your hands tightened on his thighs, as his head fell back. He hit the back of your throat one more time, and another, and then he pulled out of you sharply, your body weaving when he let go of your hair. You looked up at him through streaming eyes, and Bob groaned looking down at you. 
He moved fast, his hands hooking under your arms and practically dragging you over to the bed. You still felt hazy when you landed on your back, the comforter soft under your body, and a moment later Bob lowered his body over yours. 
“Bet you’re all ready for me,” he said, his voice hoarse as his hand slotted between your legs. He jerked your underwear aside and you both groaned when one of his long fingers pulled through your folds. Bob’s head fell to your shoulder, and you felt him press a soft kiss there, even as shudder worked over his upper body. 
“What got you this wet, huh, baby?” he asked, his voice muffled by your skin, his other hand reaching up to pull off his glasses and set them on the nightstand. “You like being on your knees for me this much? Feeling my cock in that pretty mouth, knowing how well it’ll fill this cunt?”
His fingers pulled through the moisture between your thighs, rubbing through you and teasing your entrance. You gasped when he dragged your arousal up to your clit, pressing tight circles around it as your back arched off the bed. 
“Bobby, please, yes—”
He was gone a moment later, ripping your panties down your legs before he pulled you down to the edge of the bed, your legs hanging off of it as he stood between them. Your hair splayed around you, and you watched as he dragged his cock between your folds, still wet from your mouth. When he notched the head at your entrance, your head fell back, and he began to push it in. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you onto him, and you heard him breathing sharply through his nose, keeping himself under control. 
“Baby,” he gritted, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you onto him. “Feels as good as sin, this hungry pussy. So wet and tight, pulling me in like you need it...”
You moaned at his words, your hands flailing over the sheets, needing something to hold onto as Bob pushed himself home inside of you. You wanted to sob from the fullness of him inside you, how you could feel him through your whole body, practically feel his heartbeat. 
“I do need it, I do,” you babbled, the stretch of him overwhelming and perfect. “Please, Bobby, move, I need you—”
“You’re doing so good, baby,” he whispered, and you reached for him blindly. You clutched at his chest, his shoulders, your hands curling into the robes and moaning when you remembered what he was wearing. 
Bob laughed darkly, pulling his hips back slowly. His thick cock dragged against your warm walls and you could feel yourself clenching down on him, craving him. 
“The robes are really doing it for you, huh, baby? Thinking of driving all the piety out of a man’s head because he needs this tight pussy more than he needs his god?”
His words were accompanied by a harsh thrust and you cried out as Bob picked up a brutal pace. His hips slapped into yours, his cock stretching you, and his hands tightened on your hips. 
He leaned down to kiss you, his lips clashing against yours as he bent your legs back to reach deeper inside you.
“You like the thought of that, don’t you, baby,” he growled, his teeth dragging across your collarbone, “the thought of being so under a man's skin that he can’t wait a minute more without being buried inside of you? Needing to hear those sweet sounds you make while he’s fucking you, begging him to save you from the ache between your thighs?”
 His cock was dragging into a deep part of you, brushing against a spot that had you seeing stars. Your legs were trembling from the tight angle but you thought you might die if he didn’t keep going, didn’t save you, just like he said. 
You whimpered when his lips closed around your pulse point, biting enough to mark you, and Bob pulled back to look at you. His face was flushed, red and sweating, the most beautiful sight in the world. 
“Love you like this,” you moaned, your legs shaking. “Fuck, Bobby, you feel so good, I need you—”
Bob groaned, his head falling beside yours as he rutted into your harder. His tight collar scaped against your neck and you wound your arms around his neck. As his thrusts pushed your body up the bed, his lips found yours again, dragging against you sloppily.
“No amount of holy wine could wipe the taste of you off my tongue, baby,” he gritted against your lips. “Need the sounds of my baby coming undone around my cock; ‘s better than anything else in the world.”
Your eyes rolled back as you clung to him. You felt like sobbing, you felt like your skin was on fire, like the only thing tethering you to this pane was the unrepentant press of his cock deep inside of you, his strong arms around you, his lips against you. 
“Cum for me, honey,” he moaned, his voice sounding broken. “Make me sinner and saint, baby, let me feel it.”
You screamed, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm shattered over you. Your head lulled back, you felt the fabric of the robes rending between your fingers as you pulled desperately at Bob. Pleasure rolled over you, white hot and almost painful, all-encompassing and as close to holy as anything you knew. 
Bob groaned as you tightened around him, your cunt pulsing as your orgasm wrecked you, pulling him with you.   
“So good for me, baby,” he groaned, his hips pistoning faster, and you whined weakly, your body sensitive but needing this closeness, and his climax. 
“Want to feel you, Bobby,” you whispered. “Please, baby, want your cum…”
His thighs were trembling and his chest was heaving against yours as he got closer. He ground his hips into yours, his fingers tight enough on your hips to bruise, his breath puffing into your shoulder. 
“Asking me so sweetly, honey,” he gritted into your neck, “of course, anything for you, anything, baby, fuck—”
He came with a choked groan, his body tensing as he held himself over you, his hips bucking as he finished. You whimpered at the full feeling, his cock weakly fucking his cum into you, your combined climax leaking out of your core. The room was hot and Bob’s harsh breathing seemed to echo around it; you thought dazedly that that was your favorite sound in the world, the reminder that we was here, breathless, after being with you. He made to roll off of you, but you clung to him, wrapping your shaking legs around him and pulling him tightly to you. 
The robes scratched against your chest, but we came willingly, turning slightly to wrap his own arms around you, holding you close. 
“Beautiful girl,” he mumbled into your hair. His voice was so deep, so tender, and you drew in a breath, running your hands through his long hair. He nuzzled into you and your arms softened, loving the warmth that came from being with him. 
After a moment, you felt his chest shake. You pulled back to look at him, confused to find him silently laughing, and Bob smiled at you gently, pushing some of your sweat-matted hair away from your face.
“That’ll be fourteen Hail Marys,” he teased, “and at least a dozen Our Fathers, don’t you think?”
You rolled your eyes and swatted at his shoulder but your boyfriend chuckled, rolling onto his back and pulling you with him. 
“Worth it,” he whispered, his eyes bright and honest as he leaned up to kiss you again, soft and playful, "so damn worth it."
682 notes · View notes
theharddeck · 2 years
Text
kinda might, sorta like, love you a little bit (hangman x reader)
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Pairing: hangman x fem!reader (no y/n)
Synopsis: hangman's fwb convinces him to try something new
Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, swearing, sex, choking kink, some asphyxiation, breathplay, slight slight slight degradation (mostly condescension, but if that's a no for you, maybe this isn't the one)
Length: 4.5k
title from yet another tanner adell song bb.
for @fuckyeahhangman , also welcome to my baby tag list @peakyrogers @winterrebel04@callsign-valley 💙
It wasn’t often that you saw an expression of absolute shock on Hangman’s face, his pretty jaw slack and his eyes wide, blinking owlishly at you, uncertain if he’d heard you correctly when you told him you wanted him to choke you.
You were out on the tarmac, running post-op inspections on your planes, and, like always, you and the golden boy were the last ones out. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but you’d come over to his F-18 after your inspection was done, to find Jake half-out of his flight suit and up to his elbows in grease, and the sight had ripped a confession out of you. 
You were out on the tarmac, running post-op inspections on your planes, and, like always, you and the golden boy were the last ones out. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but you’d come over to his F-18 after your inspection was done, to find Jake half-out of his flight suit and up to his elbows in grease, and the sight had ripped a confession out of you. 
Jake processed your words slowly, setting down the wrench he’d had in his hands, bracing himself on his bent knees to stand up. 
Fuck, his hands. 
He had broad palms and long fingers that looked entirely too good wrapped around a yoke.
You knew what else they’d look good around.
But no one expected that of you. 
You were the sweet one, the pilot who wore tinted chapstick and baked when she got stressed, so everyone thought they had you figured out. Just because you weren’t intense like Phoenix or Halo, everyone thought you were just the sweetest thing.
And you could be.
You could also be…more.
Jake’s expression cleared as he walked over to you, curiosity replacing the surprise in his eyes, as he got closer to you. 
“Did I hear that right, sweetheart?” he asked, and your stomach flipped at the intensity in his expression. 
You lifted your chin stubbornly as Jake got closer to you, holding his gaze and not saying anything else. Jake licked his lips, the motion bringing your eyes down to his mouth, as he smiled slightly, leaning towards you.
“You want me,” he whispered, his breath warm on the outside of your ear, “to choke you?”
All told, you were really proud of yourself for not melting into a puddle on the tarmac when he repeated your words back to you in his low drawl. 
“Yes please,” you breathed, relieved beyond measure that no one else was around to see you go weak in the knees at six words from Hangman. 
Jake hummed, a sound so deep in his chest it almost sounded like a purr. He pulled back to look at you, his fair eyes squinting in the afternoon sunlight. “And you thought you’d just tell me, in broad daylight, when I can’t do a damn thing about it?”
In your defense, you hadn’t meant to tell him. 
Then you’d spent the afternoon listening to him bark instructions to the rest of the team in the air, and come by his F-18 to find him with his messy hair, wrestling with the landing gear with hand tools, and it had slipped out of you.
But he didn’t know that, so you smiled, lifting a shoulder casually. “Just wanted you to know,” you told him, unaffectedly.  
Jake knew it was bullshit, his eyes narrowing even as his own smile deepened. 
“I’ll see you after dinner,” he backed away from you, turning towards his aircraft and muttering over his shoulder, “otherwise I’ll do something that’ll get us both court martialed.”
A shiver went through you at his words, but he was right—this wasn’t the time or place for considering the ramifications of what he’d asked you.
Later, you pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down to stop yourself from biting your nails as you sat perched on the side of your bunk, looking between your watch, your phone, and the clock over the door. Dinner had come and gone and it felt like hours ago, and doubt was eating away at you. 
What you had with Jake was good—very good. 
No strings, no complications, no complaints. He treated you like something fiercely desirable, and it had been good…but you’d been on drills with him as team lead.
You knew how intense Hangman could be. 
You knew how Jake sounded when he wanted something, you knew how he went after something in the sky with zero thought for anyone that couldn’t keep up. And you always heard that roughness when you started, but somewhere between working you two up and collapsing after the fact, he reined himself back to something gentle. 
You were so tired of gentle.
But maybe he wasn’t being gentle, maybe he wasn’t holding back on you; it wasn’t what he wanted from your arrangement. 
Maybe he wasn’t here yet because he wasn’t sure, maybe he was trying to figure out a way to gently—
The door handle turned, and you looked up sharply as Jake let himself into your room, shutting the door behind him. He leaned back against the door, and you heard the snick of the lock as he flicked it behind him. He’d showered since dinner, and his hair was still damp, the edges falling to just above where a worn sweatshirt hung loosely across his shoulders.
He had great shoulders.
It was a weird thing to notice in a man, but on Jake it wasn’t just that he spent a ton of time at the gym, it was how he carried himself. Proud and confident, cocky enough to be annoying, if he wasn’t good enough to back it up.
He tilted his head back against the door, looking at you, his eyes glittering in the low light. 
You waited for him to say something, but he just looked at you, over the Eagles tank you’d cut the sleeves off of, your pajama shorts riding up on your thighs, crossed over each other as you sat primly on the bunk.
You licked your lips nervously, and Jake swore under his breath, rubbing his hand over his jaw, his eyes darting down to your tongue. 
“If you don’t want to, you should tell me,” you blurted, and Jake’s eyes snapped back up to you.
“Don’t want to-–” he parrotted, breaking off on a short laugh. “Baby, there’s precious little I don’t want to do to you.”
His words settled over you, his rough tone exactly what had sparked all this. 
“Okay,” you said, standing up slowly. 
Jake’s eyes raked down your body but he stayed by the door. He sighed, exasperated, and you crossed the room as you waited for him to tell you what was going through his mind. He crossed his arms, frowning down at them. 
“I don’t want to accidentally hurt you,” he admitted.
You blinked. You were moments away from making a joke about whether or not Jake knew his own strength, but he wasn’t meeting your eyes, which settled heavily over you. 
Was this something deeper?
“Jake…” you started, and he looked back at you, lifting his chin defiantly. In his eyes, you saw a guardedness that you hated, that you wanted to chase away. 
“Hey,” you said, pretty stubborn yourself, “I trust you.”
Jake’s jaw clenched, and you knew the only thing keeping his eyes locked on yours was the determination to not be the one who looked away first. 
“I trust you,” you repeated. 
He sighed, a long, drawn out sound. He didn’t look convinced, but you figured that was a longer conversation than you were equipped for. You reached for him, your fingers trailing down his forearm to one of his hands, fingers loose in front of him.  
“I trust you,” you said again, and you lifted his huge hand to your neck. 
Jake swallowed, eyes looking between yours, then at his hand against your throat. He drew in a long breath, adjusting to the prospect and letting you settle into it as well, and a part of you relaxed when you saw him do the same. 
Fuck, just having him here was better than you’d expected.
His fingers were broad and warm, and they spanned across your neck, covering so much more of you than you’d anticipated. His strong fingers, hands that kept a fifteen-ton machine in the sky, just over your windpipe—it was overwhelming to think about, and he hadn’t even pressed down.
Jake’s thumb traced up the side of your throat, and you knew he could feel your pulse, as it rapidly quickened.
“Baby…” he started, concern and hunger warring in his eyes. 
You tilted your head back, pushing your throat further into his hand. 
“Try me, Hangman,” you whispered.
His jaw clenched, then released, and then his fingers curled slightly around your throat. He wasn’t squeezing, wasn’t anywhere close to cutting off your airflow, it was just a tightening of his thumb, and a pressure from his other fingers. Still, you couldn’t stop your eyes from fluttering closed, at the promise and potential from that simple touch.
Jake let out a slow breath, and when you opened your eyes to look at him, his chin jerked to the side. The concern was gone from his expression, replaced by soft awe as he looked down at you.
“Shit, sweetheart,” he muttered. “You really want this, huh?”
And there were a couple of ways you could answer him. 
You could tell him yes, plead for him to keep going. You could lean further into his touch, pull him closer, ask for more. 
Or…
You reached for Jake’s other hand, the one not around your throat. You meant for the movement to have finesse, but as soon as your joined hands brushed the bottom of your tank, Jake knew where you were going with this. His eyes darkened as you set his hand inside of your pajama shorts, and he followed through on your unspoken instruction. Jake hummed quietly, curious, his eyes following his hand as it traveled between the thin fabric and your body, reaching towards the apex of your thighs. 
“Sweet thing,” Jake breathed. “No underwear tonight?”
You shook your head, steadying yourself on his chest as his hand moved over you, the backs of his knuckles brushing over your skin as he deliberately lingered. He turned his wrist and his fingers pulled over your center, causing you to shudder.
Jake inhaled sharply, his lips parting as he looked back at you.
“Baby, how long have you been this wet?”
He pressed a thick finger through your folds, and your eyes fell closed as he pulled it back towards him. You knew you were unsteady on your feet, but you knew that Jake needed to feel how badly you wanted this, wanted it with him.    
“Baby,” Jake said again, and you looked up at him, so close to you, his pretty face stern and focused. You wet your lips, looking back at him, and waited. 
His eyes narrowed, and then he pressed harder with the hand at your throat. Your knees actually buckled, and Jakes clicked his tongue, shaking his head. 
“I’m not even squeezing that hard, baby,” he said, a hint of condescension in his tone that had your skin heating. “Use your words, come on.”
Fuck, this was what you wanted.
For Jake to lean into the power he had over you, to control your pleasure, to command it out of you. 
“Since I saw you on the tarmac,” you whispered, voice raspy, and Jake’s hand on your throat loosened, his thumb running up the side of your neck, soothing. 
“See, that wasn’t so difficult,” he murmured, and your hips jerked forward when his hand worked over your core again. Jake added another finger to the pull, rubbing lightly over your clit before dipping back between your legs. You whimpered when he pressed his middle finger into your entrance, a slow intrusion that had you clutching at his forearm. 
“Fuck, baby, you’re practically dripping,” Jake said quietly, his voice tight. “Pulling me in like a damn vice.”
His fingers felt so good, working over and in you, and his voice was always the perfect addition. You widened your legs, wanting more of his touch, and Jake chuckled, a low and pleased sound. 
“On the bed, baby,” he said, his voice low. “I want to see you.”
His thumb brushed your neck again and then he let go of you carefully, pulling his hand out of your shorts. You would’ve protested, but he immediately set to peeling off his sweatshirt and pushing down his pants, and your mouth felt dry at the sight of him. You scrambled to comply, pulling your tank off and kicking the shorts down, before falling back to the bed. 
You landed on the edge of it and a moment later Jake was on top of you, every inch of his hard body pressed into yours. He was warm and so close, perfect, and his hands grazed up your body to hold your wrists tightly, before he kissed you, hard. 
His mouth moved over yours hungrily, and your lips parted for him, a moan slipping out of you at the first sweep of his tongue. You relaxed under him, moving your hands to check his hold on your wrists, but finding them secure. Jake’s grip tightened when he felt your wrists flex, and his hips ground into you, slow. 
The drag of him, heavy and hot and so close, was perfect, and your moan was muffled against Jake’s mouth. He lifted slightly to turn your head with his nose, nuzzling into your neck to kiss you sloppily as he ground himself over you again. 
“Jake,” you cried, unable to process how good it was, how quickly.
“That’s how I feel, baby,” Jake said, his voice sounding almost angry. “You look so fucking good, and then knowing what it is that got you this messy for me, fuck–” 
He broke off, his hips driving into you again, and your head tipped back against the mattress. You could feel your arousal dripping between your thighs, and the thought that Jake might feel a fraction of as frantic as you did, was overwhelming. 
Jake pushed away from you, leaning off the bed, to reach back for his discarded sweatpants. He fished a condom out of one of the pockets, rising up on his knees to roll it over his length, and you pushed down the irrational disappointment that rose up inside of you. 
It was good to be safe, especially when you guys weren’t anything. 
Still. 
The additional layer, so early on, seemed like a harsh reminder of just how transient this thing between you was. 
“Ah, sweetheart, don’t make that face.”
At Jake’s words, you quickly schooled your expression, looking back up to meet his eyes, and smiling automatically. 
“Gone,” you told him flippantly, but Jake looked at you for a long moment. 
He wasn’t careful, nothing so precious, but he held your eyes until the last moment when he leaned down to kiss you again. Your own eyes slid closed as he brushed his lips against yours, soft kisses, a gentle asking of permission. 
You met him, you always did, and eventually his mouth grew firmer, more insistent, as he settled over you again. Your hands roamed up his sides, over his strong shoulders and over his back, where you could feel him moving over you. You pulled at him, wanting him closer, loving the way you could feel his muscles working as his body hovered over you. He shifted, propping himself on his elbows so he could reach over to grope your chest. 
Grope was the right word, absolutely lacking in finesse, wanting to feel your soft skin under his fingers, as much and as soon as possible. Your back arched into his touch, pushing your breasts into his broad palms as Jake kissed you firmly. He pulled back, making his way down your face, your neck, your chest, and you lay back against the bed, gasping. His kisses were feather light, then nibbles, then he laved at you with his tongue before his teeth scraped against your nipples. 
One of your hands drove from his back to his hair, tangling in the coarse strands and pulling when his mouth sent ribbons of pleasure to your core. Jake pulled back to look at you, and your stomach clenched at the sight of his swollen lips, flushed cheeks, his color high from chasing your pleasure. 
You smiled at him, dopily, and his teeth flashed before he went back to your chest. While his mouth worked one breast, his hand worshiped the other, pulling and pressing and kneading and squeezing, lifting when his mouth switched between the two. His hips were gently rocking into yours, his cock lengthening against your stomach, and the awareness of him felt like a tease. 
You reached down to wrap your hand around him, and Jake’s hips stuttered as you took him in your hand. 
He felt heavy, and Jake’s next kisses felt more like bites, as he was distracted by your touch. You pulled your hand up his length, whimpering at how thick he felt, how your fingers couldn’t touch around him, how good he would stretch you. How full of him you’d feel, his hips rocking into yours–
One of Jake’s hands fell to your waist, gripping at the flesh there, and you realized you were grinding up into his thigh. He shifted, pressing down into you, and guiding the motion of your hips as you rolled against him.
“That’s it, darlin’,” he said, his breath warm against your chest. “Love feeling you working yourself up, waiting for this cock.”
His words had you fisting him tighter, and Jake’s hips jerked. 
“Impatient,” he muttered, reaching down to push your hand away from him. 
You resisted the urge to whine in protest, assuaged when you felt him reaching between the two of you to guide his cock to your entrance. He dragged his tip against your folds, and you fisted the hand in his hair, pulling sharply enough that Jake grunted, his forehead resting against your sternum.
“Stop teasing,” you gasped, and Jake laughed darkly against your skin. 
“Come on, sweetheart,” he said, pushing his cock through your folds maddeningly slow, making no move to push deeper, “I know you can ask nicer than that.”
“Please, Jake,” you cried, not even embarrassed of how quickly you switched to begging. He was right there, you knew he’d fill you so good, and you’d been waiting for so long for this. “Need your cock, baby, please.”
“You need me,” Jake repeated smugly, accompanied by another slow drag.
“Yes, I do,” you whimpered. “God, Jake, please–”
“You always ask so prettily when you’re aching for me, baby,” Jake murmured, pulling back and shifting to line himself up to you. You turned your hips up, gasping with relief when you felt his head pressing into you. You moaned brokenly, the slow push filling you with a perfect ache, as Jake eased his cock into you.
Fuck, he filled you so well. 
You felt yourself stretching, stretching, his hot cock searing you as he pushed against your walls. You could feel your thighs trembling as Jake’s hips pressed you into the bed, the intrusion steady and immutable. Jake kept pushing until he was fully seated, his thighs tight against yours, and you feel dizzy with how good it is. 
“Now she’s quiet,” Jake said, his voice strained. “Stuffed with my cock like my baby wanted, and now she’s got nothing to say.”
“It’s so fucking good, Jake,” you whisper, and he groaned quietly. “You’re so good.”
“That’s right, baby,” Jake said, pulling back slightly. When he rocked his hips back, his cock dragged along your inner walls, raking a moan out of you. He pushed back in, still slow, still intoxicating, and you waited for your body to adjust to him.
“Shit, darlin’, you feel too good and you sound too wrecked; I can’t—” Jake broke off as he bottomed out inside of you. “Alright, angel, take a deep breath.” 
You pulled in a breath without question, but it immediately punched out of you when you felt Jake’s hand come back to your neck. His hand settled lightly, similar to his first touch, just finding you, feeling you. He pulled out of you, and when your body bowed off the bed, chasing after him, Jake pressed his fingers down, and a whine tore out of you.
Jake jolted at the sound, his hips grinding forward at the sound. 
“You’re so fucking hungry for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he gritted, and his thumb pressed harder. “God, I can feel this cunt just pulling me in, baby.”
You clenched down on him, his words driving you higher, as the stretch of him eased and you were able to take him deeper. It felt so good, his cock, his hands, and his words creating the perfect storm. It was just what you needed, him controlling every element of your pleasure like this, owning all of it. 
“You’re doing so good, baby,” Jake praised, his rhythm speeding up as your body relaxed further against him. “ I feel you clenching on me, every time I squeeze just a little bit tighter, fuck, why is that so hot, baby—”
Your eyes fluttered as he pumped into you, one of your hands running up Jake’s arm to encourage him. He still was holding you more in place than anything, just a suggestion of pressure, and even that bit was so damn good, but you wanted more. 
Your fingers closed over his hand on your throat and you squeezed over his fingers. 
“Shit, angel,” Jake groaned, his hips jerking harder as he tightened his hand experimentally. “Are you sure?”
As his grip tightened, you felt a buzz spread over your body, and your eyes rolled back at the intensity of his touch. 
“Jake, baby, fuck,” you rasped, barely intelligible, but he heard you or knew what you meant, because his thrusts got even deeper. 
“You like that, baby?” Jake asked, driving into you. “My hand on your throat, my cock so deep in your cunt, pushing the air out of you?”
Your eyes were screwed shut as sensations bowled over you, warm and hazy and so damn good, and your hand rubbed his forearm encouragingly. Between his rough thrusts and his firm grasp on your throat, you felt utterly possessed, taken, like the answer to the driving need pulsing through Jake could only be found in you. The buzzy sensation spread and you moaned, or you meant to, but sound wasn’t coming past Jake’s hand, and you felt your body lightening, even as the pull at your core got more leaden. 
Fuck, you couldn’t be there already, could you?
You vaguely felt Jake pull back to look at you, but you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t think, only hazy pressure and need coiling through your body. You felt your arms going slack, not just from oxygen deprivation but from the reality that Jake was absolutely possessing you. Owning you, fucking you hard enough for the both of you, living up to the trust he hadn’t wanted you to give him.
You opened your eyes, squinting up at him through the haze of pleasure and pressure. 
His face was flushed over you, shoulders and jaw tight with exertion, but his eyes were bright and careful, watching you. You let go of his forearm, reaching up to brush some of his hair away from his face, holding his cheek for a moment. 
Jake’s head dropped slightly for a moment, his pace slowing as he recovered, looking up at you and shaking his head. 
“I told you not to look at me like that, angel,” he said quietly, and you shook your head because it wasn’t the same. 
But you saw when determination set in behind his eyes, and he reached under you to lift your hips. Your back bowed off the bed as the angle changed, Jake’s thrusts lodging impossibly deeper inside of you as his pace increased. The buzzing got more intense as he pressed down harder on your throat and Jake’s hips snapped into yours as he fucked into you. You could sob from the intensity of it, how hot and desperate it felt, how heavy and feral, and then he dipped his head to your neck. 
“Baby, you feel too fucking good; I need you to come,” he groaned, and you nodded as best you could against his hand. You were close, you knew you were close, and hearing the desperation on his voice was pushing you further.  
“Come on, angel,” Jake said, and he fucked into you faster, deeper, and he let go of your throat suddenly. 
You gasped in a deep breath, the haze evaporating as oxygen rushed through your veins. Everything that had been muted felt acutely intense, biting and sharp, and you sobbed out a moan as your orgasm shattered through you. It felt almost painful, like noonday sun bursting through midnight. You collapsed back onto the bed, boneless, your chest heaving and your body shaking. 
“Fuck, angel, that was the most beautiful thing, fucking unreal, you’re so good, baby,” Jake choked, his thrusts growing more desperate. “You did so good, baby, giving it to me like that, fuck, baby—”
Jake buried his face in your chest as he came, his long moan vibrating across your body, as he pumped into you. His hips continued to work as he came, driving into you and wringing his orgasm out as he worked through it. You wanted to run your hands through his hair, smooth over his strong shoulders and repeat his words back to him—the most beautiful thing, so good, how he did so good. But your limbs were absolutely molten, numb against the bed as you trembled quietly, still recovering. 
Jake’s hips stilled, and the room seemed silent after the sounds of your combined panting and moans. The air felt warm, dreamlike, or maybe that was your body still adjusting. You became aware that Jake’s hands had started moving slowly across your skin. Without lifting himself off your chest, his fingers were smoothing, carefully exploring, spreading across you as he checked over you. 
“Need something, Hangman?” you asked, your voice sounding rough. At the sound of it, Jake drew in a sharp breath and pushed himself off of you, propping himself up to look at you. 
“Just want to make sure you’re okay,” he said quietly, and his eyes were intent as they followed his hands, still roaming over you.
“Honestly, Jake,” you said, clearing your throat, “I think ‘okay’, is a disservice to how I feel right now.”
Jake smiled, something quick, his eyes crinkling even when his lips pursed. He still looked uncertain, which did things to your heart that you didn’t want to contemplate, so you offered him a smile of your own. 
“I feel like jelly; I don’t think I can come up to you,” you told him. “So will you just come here?”
He grinned, bright like starshine, and crawled up the bed. His lips were gentle when he kissed you, and you kissed him back languidly. 
There was a lot of the night left, and a lot of uncertainty left, but you put into your kiss all the things he didn’t want to hear you say–the things you hoped he knew, the things he didn’t want to believe, and the way that you’d never for a moment doubted whether his hands were the right place to put your trust.
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theharddeck · 1 year
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your love is the love I need || chapter 1/4
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pairing: javy machado x femme reader (no y/n), callsign Cross
summary: Cross and Javy are very good friends. Javy might've let it slip to his mother that they're more. A little fake dating never hurt anyone, right?
warnings: 18+, minors please DNI – no smut in this chapter (there defs will be in later chapters, and I never want someone to be caught off guard) but there is an attempted roofie-ing in this chapter.
length: 6.2k
A/N: literally the biggest shoutout in the WORLD to @daggerspare-standingbystandingby for talking me off a ledge, and also line editing, and also depth. @bradshawsbitch and @laracrofted thank you for always brainstorming with me 💙
Saturday
“Cross, get in here; I need a stand-in.”
You’d been looking for a glass for your cherry coke in cabinets at the Miramar Family Center, but at Hangman’s call, you grabbed a straw and jogged back over to the pool table. Bob folded a napkin and slid it across the table as you got closer and you smiled at him gratefully before setting the sweating can down on it.
“Tapping out already, Hangman?” Phoenix asked from across the table, where she was wiping chalk over the end of her pool cue. 
“You and Avalone wish,” Jake drawled, smiling wanly at the group. “Nah, I’ve got to pick something up; I’ll be right back.”
He tossed his pool cue at you without looking and you considered letting it clatter to the ground, but you grabbed it out of the air, trying not to read into the gesture too much. 
You were a recent addition to the squad; when Fanboy had decided he wanted to try piloting again, they’d needed a WSO to fly with Payback. Having only been a teammate for a couple months, you were still finding your footing with the group. Everyone had been welcoming, of course, but there were times that you felt the little idioms and questions were a type of test. Tests that you were determined to pass, not just for the sake of assimilation, but because this was a team you were genuinely proud to be a part of, and you wanted them to know it. 
“Am I solid or stripes?” you asked, looking down at the table, confused by the seeming lack of structure on the felt.
“We’re playing cutthroat,” Payback said, looking after Hangman with a grimace, for not giving you any context.
“We’re 11-15,” Coyote said, because of course he and Jake had been a team. He swiped the chalk that Phoenix had been using, and as he dropped it into your palm, his fingertips brushed yours. You tried to ignore it, it was just an accidental brush, but your skin prickled anyway, and you looked away quickly.
“1-5,” Phoenix cut in, pointing between her and Fritz. 
“6-10,” Payback finished, lifting a fist in Bob’s direction, as the WSO held up a clenched hand obediently.
“Cool,” you said, deciding if you wanted to take on the pilot who held your life in his hands any time you got in the back of an F/A-18, or Phoenix. 
Which, honestly, wasn’t even a question.
You surveyed the felt once more, before seeing a clear shot for the 9 ball, walking around the table to take it, and shooting Bob an apologetic look as the ball clattered into the pocket.
“I knew I liked you,” Natasha cooed.
“Yeah, I don’t know why we bother,” Payback sighed to Bob, who shrugged, both of them good-naturedly.
“Atta girl,” Coyote crowed, and Phoenix nodded approvingly and you grinned at her, rather than risk looking at him. Not with the butterflies that erupted in your stomach at his completely platonic praise. You were on the same team, it was nothing more than that, and now was so not the time for your relentless crush to make an appearance.
Pool wasn’t really your game, and you weren’t at all surprised when you botched the next shot, flustered by the nearly six feet of Abercrombie model at your shoulder. You backed away from the table as Billy stepped up, apparently next in order. 
You swiped your soda from the table by Bob, crossing the room to perch on the side of a sofa and wait for your turn again, or Jake’s reappearance, whichever came first. 
Your eyes flitted over to Javy, as they always seemed to, when you weren’t actively trying not to. It wasn’t your fault he was magnetic. 
All easy smiles and broad shoulders, deep protectiveness and unabashed confidence, just as good as Hangman and Rooster and Phoenix, less likely to call attention to it. The way he’d look deep at whoever was talking to him, nodding along as he gave them his full attention. 
At present, that person was Phoenix, and Javy’s shoulders dipped as he hunched his back slightly, to get closer and hear her better. You played with the end of your pool stick, watching as their heads tilted together, quietly commenting on the table as Fritz lined up a shot.
“It’s a statistical impossibility, right?” Halo whispered, appearing next to you on the couch. “For them to be that pretty and that good of pilots?”
You followed her gaze to the trio around the table and shook your head, agreeing. 
“The worst part of it,” you mumbled back, “is that they have the audacity to be decent people, so we can’t even do the easy thing and dislike them for being perfect.”
Halo clicked her tongue against her teeth, fiddling with the plastic cap of a water bottle. 
“That’s why they need us,” she mused. “You, me, and Bob: subverting expectations as gorgeous backseaters.”
You snorted, before Callie’s words registered, and you looked over at her, your voice teasing when you asked, “Bob, huh?”
She shrugged lightly, even as a pretty flush bloomed on her cheeks.
“Completely impartially, of course,” she said, sheepishly. You smiled reassuringly, bumping her shoulder with yours, and she tilted her head as she looked back at the table. 
“How’s that view from your glass house?” she asked, sweetly, making you nearly choke on your soda when you saw she was looking pointedly at Coyote. 
“Is it that obvious?” you asked.
“I mean, it was a guess, but that just confirmed it,” Callie smiled broadly, before sighing again. “I think crushes on other pilots is the particular curse of Wizzos—we know better, but we think we’re smart enough to get around it.”
“I’ll drink to that,” you muttered, bumping your soda can into her water bottle, memory taking you back a couple months to a night just like this one. 
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It was your first day in San Diego; you’d caught an early flight and were able to move into your off-base apartment and walk around North Island for a bit, exploring before you’d meet your detachment the following morning. As the sun sank over the Pacific, you walked along the beach, enjoying the warm sand and cooling air. You could hear a piano in the distance, something you assumed was the effect of a bluetooth speaker until you realized it came from a bar a little farther down the beach, and you redirected your footsteps towards it. 
The Hard Deck smelled like sweat and good beer, and you clocked a couple different types of badges as you scanned the room. There was a good chance someone here would recognize you tomorrow, so you asked for a coke from the older man behind the bar, settling on a stool and looking around.
There was a man with a mustache and aviators (Indoors. At night.) at the piano, his head cocked back as he worked through the greatest hits of the 60s. Beside him, a stunning woman in a tight bun stood shoulder-to-shoulder with an impossibly tall man, also with a mustache, both of them singing along enthusiastically. A pool table was nearby, a couple more uniforms draped across it, and two men were playing darts against the wall closest to you.
Well, one of them was playing darts. 
The blond man was clearly in his element, sinking bullseye after bullseye, and the man beside him seemed content enough to let him play it out. It wasn’t so much a competition, as it was one man showboating, and his friend humoring him.
The louder of the two was making jokes about his odds, calling shots before he took them, and every now and then his partner would quietly say something that would make his shoulders laugh enough to miss his shot. Their conversation faded into the noise of the bar as you turned on your stool, looking around you. When you came back to the bartop, you noticed a man sidling up to a younger girl a couple stools down from you. 
She was rebuffing him as gently as she could, and he seemed to be taking it pretty well—until she turned to chat with someone over her shoulder, and he dropped something in her drink while she was preoccupied. 
Your jaw dropped; that’d been clear as day. But the bar was crowded, and she’d been distracted by her friends, and your heart lurched when she reached back for her drink without paying attention. 
“Hey, wait!” you called down the bar, and she turned to look at you. Along with the half of the bar, you assumed, but you slid off the seat rather than check and see how much of an audience you had. The girl frowned at you, an unfamiliar face yelling at her, but whatever she saw in your expression held her attention for the moment it took you to get down to her. 
“Sorry,” you said, quietly as you could, when you got closer to her. “I didn’t want to make a scene, but he definitely put something in your drink.”
“Oh my gosh,” the girl set the drink down on the bar, glaring at the man. “What the hell, you creep!!”
“I didn’t—,” the man’s face flushed, and he looked angrily at you before at the people around him, placatingly. “Hold on, you can’t just go around accusing—”
“It’s not an accusation if it’s true,” you said, turning to the bartender. “Are you the owner?”
He shook his head, looking over your shoulder at some of the other patrons, then set down the tap he was pouring. “I’ll get Penny.”
“Now, hang on Jimmy,” the creep sputtered. “I-I didn’t do anything, you can’t prove I—”
“Drink it, then.”
Everyone turned at the deep voice, as someone else stepped towards the bar. You recognized one of the men from the dartboard, the quiet one, and he crossed his arms as he came up behind you. 
The creep’s expression paled as he took in the tall frame of the pilot behind you. “I mean, it’s her drink, I’m not–”
The girl slid her drink down the bartop, in front of the man. “Go on.”
A door slammed in the back of the bar and a moment later, a slim brunette woman let herself behind the counter. She stalked behind the bar, looking sharply at you. 
“You saw it?” she asked.
You nodded, and her jaw ticked. She planted her hands on the bar, looking the creep clearly in the face, like she was memorizing it, before she covered the drink with saran wrap and handed it behind her to Jimmy. 
“You’re gonna wait in my office until the police get here,” she told the man, her voice level. “And when you leave with them, you will not set foot in this bar again. Understood?”
“Police?” the man echoed, his eyes going wide. “Hold on, this is all getting blown out of proportion, all I did was—”
Penny jerked her head to the side, and you felt a hand on your shoulder for a moment as the quiet pilot brushed by you to reach for the creep. The blond man was with him, suddenly, and they unceremoniously hauled the creep away from the bar.
Penny pursed her lips together, looking meaningfully over at the piano, and a moment later, some Elvis song was playing through the bar. Penny checked in with the girl, pulled some receipt paper out of the printer and had her write down her contact information, in case the police wanted to follow up with her. She waved you down as well, and you came over. 
“Don’t think we’ve met before,” she said brusquely, holding a hand across the bar. “I’m Penny.”
“Nice to meet you,” you said, shaking her extended hand and giving her your name. “You handled that really well.”
Her jaw clenched again, as she shook her head. “Hate that I have to handle it at all. Thanks for saying something; what’re you drinking tonight? It’s on the house.”
“Oh, thanks,” you shook your head, pointing to your abandoned coke, “but I’m not drinking; I have an early day tomorrow.”
Penny hummed, looking you over. You had the uncanny feeling that, even without your uniform, she somehow knew you were Navy, which detachment you were in, and—given another minute or two—she could guess your callsign. 
“Better get your information too,” she said, sliding the receipt paper down the bar, “in case they want a statement from you. Include your CO; I can probably put a good word in edgewise.”
You scribbled your information down, wondering what ties she had to the Navy, but not doubting for a moment that they were strong. Her mouth twitched as she read over what you’d written, blooming into a full smile as she looked up at you.  
“Well, that’ll be easier than I thought,” she said, almost to herself, before walking over to the tap to pour you another coke. “So, what brings you to North Island?”
You chatted with her until the police came and she excused herself to go deal with them. You were finishing your coke when you realized the two pilots were back by the dartboard, the blond one having sunk three bullseyes and performing what appeared to be a victory shimmy.  
He looked like a Ken doll, like someone had manufactured him in a Mattel factory, then turned him to life and told him he could do anything a real boy could do. 
You laughed to yourself at his antics, and watched while the quiet one collected the darts and took his stance for his turn. His first dart landed on double 16—solid, except it couldn’t beat 3 bullseyes.
You’d wanted to thank him for helping out before Penny got there, and this was as good a chance as any, so you hopped off the barstool and crossed towards the darts wall.
“Hey,” you said, inelegant but effective, appearing behind the two of them, turning to look at you in surprise. “May I?”
The blond man made a sound in the back of his throat like he was both shocked and thrilled by your presence, and he nodded like of course you could butt in. You looked over at the quieter one, trying to pretend he wasn’t the most beautiful person you’d seen in your life. 
They’d both looked great from a distance, but up close, he was somehow even prettier, and as you looked at him, the corners of his mouth turned up in a hint of a smile. It was like he liked the weight of your eyes, which was terribly flattering, and you found yourself wanting to smile back. You looked away quickly, back to Ken Doll, thinking about the accent you’d heard in his bragging earlier. 
“Texas?” you asked, to distract yourself.
He raised an eyebrow. “Six generations back.”
You hummed, before holding out a hand to the quiet one. 
“The lady will shoot for her own hand,” Ken Doll said, like he was quoting something, a laugh in his voice as you felt two darts drop into your palm. 
“Pick that up from Medieval Times?” you asked.
“Brave, actually,” he muttered, before smiling sheepishly, “my sister’s kids love that movie.” 
“What do they call you?” you asked, turning the darts over in your hands. It was a guess, but the way his eyebrows raised slightly when he registered the cadence of your question confirmed you were right.
“Hangman,” he said, lifting his chin over your shoulder. “That’s Coyote.”
You looked over at him. “Hey.”
He smiled, slow and easy, and you looked away before you messed up your shot. You focused, let it go, and Coyote whistled. 
“Triple 20,” he said.
“Triple 20,” you agreed, looking back at Hangman. “Want to see it again?”
Hangman’s eyes narrowed as he did the quick mental math, and beside you, Coyote crossed his arms across his chest, laughing quietly. It was a warm sound, and tempted though you were to turn and see it, you let go of the last dart and watched as it landed next to your first. 
“Look at that; Coyote wins,” you wiped your hands on your jeans, smiling at a shocked Hangman.
“Damn,” he said quietly, then grinned. “I like you; you can stay.”
You snorted as he strolled lazily across to the board to pull out the darts, before you turned to look at Coyote, who was watching you already. He had deep brown eyes, eyes that looked kind, like they laughed easy, like they didn’t miss much. 
“Anyways,” you said, apropos of nothing, clearing your throat. “I came over here to say thanks for backing me up at the bar.”
Something like surprise flashed across his face before he could stop it. He shrugged like anyone would’ve done it, like it was nothing special to believe women, to support a stranger the same way he’d supported his friend all evening, and in that moment—before he knew who you were, before you knew his actual name, before you’d spoken more than a dozen words to the man—you fell hard for Javy Machado. 
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“Bob, you’re killing me,” Payback groaned, and you jerked out of the memory. Apparently, Fritz’s turn was done, Bob biffed it, and Phoenix lifted her hand in an “after you” gesture as Coyote stepped up to the table. 
He walked slowly, and you tried to be impartial like Callie’d said, but it was damn hard when his shoulders filled out his khakis like that. He walked a slow circle, frowning at the spread and you shifted the pool cue in your own hands, telling yourself to stop staring and continuing to do just that.
“Duckie,” a soft voice called across the room, “if you don’t take the shot already, we’re going to be here all night.” 
Javy dropped the pool cue with a clatter, turning to find the voice. You spotted Jake the same time everybody else did, his chest puffed out proudly as he escorted an older woman on his arm. She wore warm gray senegalese twists, dangling turquoise earrings and a wide smile you’d recognize anywhere.
“Momma?” Javy asked softly, then a grin split his face as he sprinted across the room. His mother opened her arms as Javy rushed into them, carefully bending his tall frame to enfold her, before straightening and spinning her around. Their laughter echoed around the room and a couple claps of applause went up. 
Jake slapped a hand on Javy’s back as he stepped around them, walking over to the pool table to give them a minute together. Phoenix smiled lightly at him, a soft thing that you doubted any of you were meant to see, before she cleared her throat, looking back at you.
“See, this is why we put up with him being an asshole as much as he is,” she told you, shaking her head at Jake. “He’ll leave you out as bait if it gets him a shot at a bandit, but he’ll remember your mother’s birthday, burn his visitor passes, and fly her across the country to surprise you.”
“Take it easy, Nat,” Jake said lightly, resting his knuckles on the pool table and surveying the game’s progress since he’d stepped away. “You’ll ruin my reputation.”
Phoenix shook her head before lining up her next shot, and Jake pushed away from the table to come stand next to where you and Halo were seated on the couch.
You bumped his shoulder with yours as you both looked back across the center, where Javy and his mom were walking arm-and-arm towards your group.
“That was awful sweet of you,” you told him quietly, not wanting to “ruin his reputation” as he put it. 
“The fact that you don’t sound surprised means Phoenix’s lies are taking root,” Jake muttered, but you heard the pride in his voice; he was pleased with himself for pulling this off.
You looked away from the pair over to Jake, who held out a hand for you to hand him his pool cue. You passed it to him, tipping your head, holding onto the other end of it.
“So there was absolutely no altruism involved in reuniting your best friend with his mom?”
“You wound me, Cross,” Jake said drily, but he lifted his chin at Javy’s mother, who was smiling broadly up at her son, her eyes shining as she patted at his uniform proudly. “Give it a sec; let’s see if it pays off.”  
You weren’t sure what that meant, but you felt your expression turn soft at the clear fondness between Javy and his mother; somehow you always knew he’d be a momma’s boy. Her neck was craned at a sharp angle to look up at him, but both of their smiles were wide as they broke into the group. 
“Guys,” Javy said, his voice nearly giddy, “this is my mom. Momma, this is the group. We’ve got Payback, Bob, Phoenix, Fritz—I guess you already know Jake—Halo, and Cross.”
You all smiled and waved as Javy pointed you out to his mother, and her kind eyes followed Javy’s hand around the circle. You thought you might’ve imagined they lingered a little longer on you, but then her smile grew wider as she looked back at Javy. She elbowed him, then looked back at you.
“Now, Javy,” she chided gently, “I know that’s not how you introduce me to your girlfriend.”
The group stilled, and Jake pulled in a deep breath through his nose, his own smile turning decidedly smug as he pushed away from you, taking the cue with him. 
“And there’s your answer, Cross,” he said out of the side of his mouth, going over to the pool table and lining up a shot.
You wet your lips as your eyes darted from Mrs Machado up to Javy. 
His expression was a strange mix of shocked, mortified, and pleading, and you weren’t sure what Jake had done to land the both of you in this predicament, but you knew you weren’t about to spoil this reunion for Javy.
“Mrs. Machado,” you smiled, pushing away from the couch to come and hug her. “I’m so excited to get to meet you.”
Of course, she hugged like an angel. 
She was just a little shorter than you, and she held you like you were something precious she was excited to have in her arms. When you pulled back, her hands settled on your elbows and she beamed up at you. 
“Oh, aren’t you just the loveliest,” she smiled, and her voice sounded like the happiest thing. “You know, I told him, I did, when he started talking about the newest wiz—oh, what is that abbreviation?”
“WSO,” the group chorused.
“WSO,” Mrs. Machado nodded, grateful for the prompt. “Yes, well, when he started talking about you, I asked him if you were a nice young lady, and he insisted that you were just friends, but I just knew, you kept coming up in conversation and, well, I knew it was something more. And then sweet Jacob…”
She broke off to smile kindly at Hangman, and when you looked over your shoulder, Callie and Natasha had cornered him threateningly, but he looked too smug to be intimidated. Under Mrs. Machado’s eyes, they smiled charmingly, but their stance didn’t change. You appreciated them coming to your defense, but it did make you wonder how many people seemed to know about your crush.
“Yeah, sweet Jacob,” Payback deadpanned from the other side of the table, before assuming his role as Resident Adult of the squad. “Mrs. Machado, can we get you something to drink? I know lines at the base access point can be awful, maybe a glass of water?”
“Oh!” Mrs. Machado looked between Reuben and the kitchen, then at you. You smiled reassuringly, pulling your arms free from her. 
“I’ll be here,” you said, then reached over without looking, turning away. “Hey, Jay, can I have a word?”
“Yep, figured,” Javy muttered, as your hand closed on the lapel of his khakis, pulling him after you. 
“You both are doing my push ups after the next of Mav’s drills,” Payback hissed under his breath as your paths crossed.
“Done,” you said quickly.
“For sure,” Javy said, stumbling slightly as he tried to follow your shorter stride as you pulled him to a corner of the Family Center. You figured the group would be watching you so you turned your back to them, pulling Javy to stand in front of you.
“Wait, you’re his backseater,” Javy smoothed down his lapel, frowning over your shoulder in Reuben’s direction. “If he’s doing them, you are too, and 400 pushups isn’t—”
“You’ve got, like, 15 seconds to tell me why your mom thinks I’m your girlfriend.”
You probably could’ve handled it with more finesse, or at least not interrupted him. 
Javy’s hand came up to rub the back of his neck; if you didn’t know better, you’d say he was nervous, but there’s no way that was real, so you just waited on his explanation. 
“Okay, so she means well, my mom, but every time we talked, she’d be asking about if I’d met a nice girl, or telling me how one of her friends had a kid in town, that I should meet up with or—”
“15 seconds,” you reiterated, trusting in Reuben’s vamping ability, but the man was only mortal. 
“Right,” Javy swallowed. “Uh, so it’s just…one day she was just going on and on, and I said I’d asked someone out, and she wanted to know who and you were the first person I thought of.”
You blinked.
“Not like that, not like I’d planned on asking you out or something,” Javy rushed to say, which shouldn’t have stung as much as it did, but damn. He must’ve realized how that sounded, too, because he winced. “I mean, not like that, it was just the easiest lie that she’d believe and she was never supposed to be here and meet you and—”
You crossed your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him. “How do you think this is going?”
“Yeah, not great,” Javy mumbled, his hand falling to his side.
“Awesome,” you muttered. “So now that we’ve established how it’s just a matter of me being the easiest lie, you didn’t want her to meet me, and you wouldn’t actually ask me out—”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Javy said stubbornly, even though it was what he’d just said. He looked frustrated, and you couldn’t tell if it was towards your reaction or something else but when he opened his mouth, the words got stuck, because he just sighed.
Javy drew in a deep breath, looking over your shoulder. You knew when his eyes landed on his mom, because his whole face softened, and his shoulders drooped slightly. 
“Tell me this,” you said, weighing your words carefully, “is this for her or for you?”
“For her,” he said, with conviction, and when he looked back at you, your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes. It was honest and deep, something selfless and that scared him too, and you believed him. 
“She gets worried about me,” he explained. “What she and my dad have is special…when me or my siblings don’t have that, she gets worried. Like, it’s something she prays for. I know she’s proud of me and my career and all that, but I think a part of her will always think something’s missing, unless I’m with someone.”
You looked over your shoulder to find Mrs. Machado in the kitchen, smiling happily at Rueben as he made her some tea. She had this aura of comfort around her, that of being loved and known, and wanting it for everyone around her. It wasn’t an energy you were super familiar with, but you could understand that it would be heavy for someone like Javy to bear.
And this was a terrible idea—you were gonna embarrass yourself at the least, potentially break your own heart at the worst—but you couldn’t say no.
“Okay,” you sighed. “So, how do we do this?”
Javy’s eyes closed for a moment in relief, and for a second you thought he was going to reach for you, but then he held himself steady, his hands clenching at his sides.
“Thank you,” he said quietly. 
You nodded, already regretting this, knowing if you could do it again, you’d choose the same result, every time.
“Yeah,” you said, rubbing at your temples briefly before looking back up at him. “Um, I guess, how much do you want me around? I’m sure you guys want time for just the two of you.”
Javy seemed to think it over. “I’ll probably take her to dinner tonight—she’ll invite you, but I think we can get you out of it. If…do you want to do breakfast tomorrow?”
Somewhere a trickster god was chortling, thrilled by Javy asking a question you’d never expected to hear, and in an entirely different context.
“I can do breakfast,” you said. 
“Great,” Javy said, a full smile growing. “God, thank you. Great.” 
And somewhere that same trickster god rolled their eyes, because you were a simpleton who’d do any number of ridiculous things to see that smile again. 
Javy squeezed your shoulder lightly, moving to go around you before stopping himself and stepping back.  
“You’ve never called me ‘Jay’ before,” he said, his expression curious.
And you hadn’t, never aloud. But in your texts to your girlfriends back home, you referred to him by his initial, just in case someone ever stole your phone.
“Yeah, well," you deferred, "Duckie was taken, so…”
Javy’s nose wrinkled as he tried not to laugh, and there it was, that smile again.  
“I had a stuffed duck, when I was a kid,” he explained. “Took it everywhere with me, like some kids have their blankets…Momma always told me she loved me like I loved that duck, and it kind of stuck.”
“That’s adorable,” you said, honest. 
Javy waved a hand, like it wasn’t anything, and then he looked back at you.
“I like it,” he said, something different in his voice. “Jay.”
You weren’t sure what to say to that, so you pressed your lips together and shrugged. Javy looked at you for a moment, then he tilted his head towards the group. You turned with him, following him back to the group, telling yourself it was going to be fine. 
Of course, that was until Mrs. Machado insisted that they drive you home. 
Thankfully, you were able to convince her to take the passenger seat, so as Mrs. Machado and Javy talked quietly, the soft music on the speakers kept their conversation from reaching you in the backseat. You leaned your head against the glass of the window, trying to recall the cross streets from memory, rather than think too hard about any part of tonight. The car was in park for a minute before you realized it was idling in front of your apartment. 
“Oh, sorry,” you said quickly, sliding off your seatbelt and leaning forward to brush Mrs. Machado’s shoulder lightly, “it was so great to meet you. Thanks for driving me home.”
“Of course,” she beamed over her shoulder at you, reaching back to catch your hand in hers, and squeezing. “I’m so glad we’ll get to visit more tomorrow.”
You smiled back, then let go of her, sliding down to the seat to the door. As you unfolded yourself out of the backseat, Javy’s hand appeared on the car door, holding it open for you as you climbed out. He shut it behind you, walking beside you towards the door of your apartment. 
You looked up at him out of the side of your eye. 
People shouldn’t be pretty from this angle but he was. The moonlight seemed to highlight his long lashes, and the soft shadow they cast over his face.  
“You don’t have to walk me,” you said under your breath, once you were out of hearing range of the car. 
“Nah,” Javy said, his voice lower rather than quieter. “Momma knows I’d walk my girl to the door.”
It wasn’t a long walk up the driveway, but you seemed aware of every step. Or maybe the world just froze when Javy said my girl. 
You glanced over at him again, admiring the way he looked perfectly at ease, his hands tucked into his pockets, steps slow to match your pace. You thought about how sweet his mother was, how excited she’d been at the prospect of spending time with you tomorrow. She was probably watching from the car now, and it did somewhat soothe the guilt in your chest, knowing that someone else had set a precedent for her, and she wouldn’t be too disappointed when her son calmly told her you had broken up.
“That’s good that she’s met others,” you said, climbing the first step to your porch, “it’s less intimidating to know I just have to be an average.”
Javy made a soft sound, something between a hum and an exhale, shoulders rising slightly in a shrug. “Actually, you’re the first since the Academy.”   
You stopped on the step, turning to find Javy watching you closely. With the added height, the two of you were almost eye level, and your stomach flipped. His brown eyes seemed to glitter, something soft like starlight in them.
“But you said…” you trailed off, realizing Javy had said it was how he would be, not how he’d been. “Literally how is that possible?” 
Javy smiled easily, looking back at the car, then back at you as he lifted his chin. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”
You smiled back, you couldn’t not, even as you shook your head, despite the heat crawling up your neck because you didn’t realize you’d said that out loud. He was too bright to leave you unaffected, so you stood there on the step, smiling like a fool at a man who somehow had no idea how much of a marvel he was.
Which is when you realized you were staring again.
“Well,” you said, looking away, taking another step up the porch, “thanks again for the ride home. And walking me up here, and I guess…I’m gonna go inside.”
“Oh,” Javy said it quietly, like he hadn’t meant to, like you’d surprised him. He nodded, and you waited for him to say something else, as he looked over his shoulder at the car, but then his easy smile was back again. “Yeah, no worries. Actually, thank you, right?”
You were pretty sure the moonlight was playing tricks on you. 
Because there was something in Javy’s expression that you hadn’t seen before, something that looked like uncertainty, something almost like wondering. The extra step put you almost taller than him, your faces closer than you’d expected. Javy blinked slowly, his gaze darting down to your mouth before he stepped back a half pace, like he’d remembered something. 
It had to be the moonlight, or you were seeing things.
But you were the first person that’d come to mind when he’d needed a lie, and that had to count for something, right, and he’d looked for a moment like he was trying to think of a reason to keep you on the porch.
You reached for him, your fingers curling around the back of his neck and the slightest pull was enough for him to take back that half step, then more, closer, which was enough for you to know it wasn’t just the moon, and you kissed him.
Or you meant to.
The moment your lips brushed against his, Javy’s hands were on your waist, his long fingers spreading across your lower back, his body heat seemingly burning through the thin fabric of your shirt, like he needed to hold onto you. And then you weren’t kissing him, because he was kissing you, something that you couldn’t quite believe was happening. It was slow and soft and absolutely devastating, as unrealistically perfect as only Javy could be.
And then it was over, just as quickly as it had happened.
Javy’s lips lifted from yours, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before he pulled back entirely. Still two steps down, you liked how he looked, looking up at you.
“I’ll wait till you get inside,” Javy asked softly, his voice like velvet, and you nodded, very uncertain if you could find words. You rested a hand on his shoulder to lean down to wave at the car, and Mrs. Machado, who was practically beaming back at you, before letting go and walking up to unlock the door. You let yourself in, turning just inside the frame to find Javy still watching you.
“Night, Jay,” you said. 
Javy’s lips parted at the nickname, then he smiled at you, bright as the noonday sun. 
“Night, Cross,” he said. His hands were in his pockets and he took a step back from you, waiting for you to shut the door. You did, leaning your back up against it, and waited for the sounds of the car starting and them driving away. 
Now, what the hell had that been about? And, more importantly, how were you supposed to survive tomorrow?
//
next chapter
taglist: @peakyrogers @mxgyver @princessphilly @hangmanbrainrot @wildbornsiren @roosterforme @blowmymbackout @datemephoenix @fuckyeahhangman @lt-bradshaw @double-j @callsignvalley @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @rosiahills22 @andrewrussgarfield @teacupsandtopgun i don't have a coyote list yet bc this is my first writing for him, so if any of you folks would like to be not included, please do let me know!
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theharddeck · 1 year
Text
my forever, every day (rooster x reader)
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Pairing: rooster x fem!reader (no y/n)
Synopsis: rooster and his girlfriend get sidetracked on a drive down PCH.
Warnings: 18+, minors please DNI, swearing, sex, oral sex (m receiving), squint-and-you-miss it rank kink, also praise kinks bc of who i am as a person...anything else, y'all lmk
Length: 4.9k
the title is a lyric from bronco, by the driver era . this one was written for @jadore-andor (happy birthday, my dear!!) and tagging my loves @peakyrogers @winterrebel04 @blue-aconite 💙
Bradley’s unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt flapped around his shoulders and your hair blew around your face as you leaned back into your seat after turning up the volume on the old radio. The heavy bass provided the perfect driving music as the Bronco rolled down the 101, and you hummed along as the winding freeway took you south.
It had been the perfect day off.
You’d both gotten a little more sun than you probably should’ve, and there was sand all over the floorboards, but it had been an absolutely perfect day off. Breakfast tacos, then lazing around on a beach in San Clemente, then an ice cream from the shop at the end of the pier and now driving back down to San Diego in your swimsuits while the sun sank over the ocean—what more could a girl ask for?
The bass faded and when you heard the first notes of the next song, you recognized it, too. You looked at Bradley suspiciously; normally, his music tastes skewed much more Indie Rock than Pop Punk, and the last four or five songs had been much more your speed than his.
“Bradley?” you asked.
“Yeah, gorgeous?” He looked over at you, raising an eyebrow. 
“I love all of these songs,” you said, and it wasn’t really a question, as much as it was a request for an explanation.  
“Well, yeah, that’s kind of the point,” Bradley said. His hand slipped down the wheel to flip on his turn signal, while keeping his other arm stretched over the back of the bench seat.
You waited for him to finish merging lanes before you asked, “What do you mean?”
Bradley glanced over at you, then leaned forward to grab his phone, connected through an adapter to a cable to the cassette tape that would let his phone play music through the vintage console. On his screen, you saw a Spotify playlist, simply titled: “For Gorgeous 🖤”. 
Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at it, then back up at your boyfriend, his eyes on the road. Behind his sunglasses, you could see them flicking to you, not like he was nervous, but like he was gauging your reaction.
“You made me a playlist?” you asked.
“I mean,” Bradley said, shifting in his seat, “it’s not, like, a big deal. You just were so excited for your day off, and this perfect beach day that you wanted, so I thought it’d be good to end it with music you like.”
You scrolled through the playlist, recognizing most of the songs as titles you’d either shared with accompanying stories, or songs that were a part of memories the two of you shared. 
“Bradley Bradshaw,” you said fondly, setting his phone back in the cupholder, next to the empty ice cream cup from the pier. “The old school romantic.”
He scoffed, pushing up his sunglasses again, and the hand that was over the back of the bench seat flicked down to tug lightly on your hair. You wrinkled your nose, reaching up to grab his hand and pull it into your lap. You wove your fingers between his, your free hand tracing over the veins on the back of his hand. 
You lifted his hand, after a moment, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, before settling it back in your lap.
“Thank you,” you told him. “Today was wonderful.”
Bradley squeezed your hand, his fingers brushing the tops of your thighs against where you held him.
“Of course, honey,” he said. 
The song ran out and you went back to playing with his hands. You loved his hands, you were a simple girl like that, and his were enormous. Broad fingers, calloused palms, and always warm, always available to you.
The next song picked up, and you frowned for a moment, before you recognized it. 
A memory flashed through your head—your blue sundress pushed up to around your hips, Bradley’s jacket on the floor of the bathroom of The Hard Deck, the lock digging into your back as your boyfriend lost himself between your thighs. Him whispering into your cunt that he couldn’t wait until he could take you home, he’d do this better later, that you tasted better than he could’ve imagined, and holding you on the brink of orgasm until the rest of the bar sang along with the guitar riff, covering your keening moans when you finally came apart on his tongue. 
In the present moment, you looked over at Bradley, unsure if that’s why this was included on the list, to see a spot of color on his cheeks, his hand tightly clutching the steering wheel. The hand you still held was deliberately loose, but every other inch of him was radiating tension, and you’d place money on the fact that the same memory was running through his mind.
You tried to keep a laugh out of your voice when you asked him, “You didn’t think this through, did you?”
“Shut up,” Bradley muttered without malice, shifting in his seat.
You bit your lip to hide a grin, and continued to watch his growing discomfort. His wide shoulders were tense, and he lifted one of his knees to hold the wheel steady while he wiped his palm on the front of his board shorts.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Bradley said, without looking at you to confirm what expression you wore. You pressed your lips together to trap a giggle, before looking deliberately out the window, giving him a break. 
The sun sank into the horizon and the world slipped into the blue haze of twilight as the song played out. Another one came on, something soft and sweet, and you started tracing Bradley’s hand again. This song was one that had gotten you through his last deployment, one you’d looped while you cleaned the empty apartment, or rereading his last emails. Bradley’s thumb rubbed against your palm comfortingly, and you knew he knew.
The lights flipped on on the side of the road, soft circles of light cutting through the blue haze of the evening, as the guitar strings faded. Another song picked up, a beat set by a bass, and unfamiliar lyrics. You frowned, looking back at your boyfriend.
“What’s this one from?” you asked.
Bradley lifted a shoulder noncommittally, focusing on the road. “Dunno,” he said, “just made me think of you.” 
You hummed in acceptance, listening to the lyrics. It wasn’t an indictment or a compliment, and you leaned across the seat to take Bradley’s glasses off his nose as the night got darker.
“You don’t need these anymore, do you?” you asked, sliding them into your hair to hold it out of your face. 
Bradley squinted on principle, but didn’t fight it as you stole his aviators to use as a headband. You looked out the front of the car, at the tail lights ahead of you flickering on, and you felt him watching you.
“What?” you asked, looking back to meet him. Even in the dim light, you could make out the deep brown of his eyes, flitting between the road and watching you.
After a long moment, he cleared his throat. 
“You really don’t remember this song?” he asked. His voice was low, curious, like he held a secret, not like he was disappointed, so you answered honestly and shook your head.
Bradley nodded, then the corner of his mouth lifted into a smile. “Guess I’d better remind you, then,” he said.
You tilted your head. “Wait, I thought it wasn’t—”
Bradley leaned a little to the side, looking under your lowered visor at a sign flashing by on the roadside. 
“Hold on, gorgeous,” he said, reaching over briefly to tug on your safety belt, before throwing the Bronco into a lower gear, slamming on the brakes, and turning off the 101. 
You squeaked as the truck pitched to the side, reeling into an overnight campsite off the beach. It was one of those that you got access to via a statewide membership, and Bradley kept the car registered in case he and the guys wanted to go on a trip; tonight it meant he could just wave authoritatively to the park ranger in the box, and drive you guys through.
“What the hell, Rooster,” you gasped at his impulsiveness, but he was silent as he drove to the back of the lot. The car lurched to a stop and he was out of it before it fully stopped moving, his long legs eating up the distance from the driver’s side to the passenger’s door. He yanked open your door, reached around you to undo your safety belt, and pulled you to the edge of your seat. With one massive hand, Bradley spread your legs, settling between them, and he wound his other hand through your hair, tilting your head back to kiss you hungrily. 
You whimpered in surprise and Bradley took advantage of your parted lips to deepen the kiss. He kissed you like he did everything to you—with measured intensity, determined thoroughness, and sweet honesty. His lips were soft, knowing the perfect pressure and pull to tempt you deeper into his arms, and on his breath you tasted the cherry chocolate of the ice cream you’d split back in San Clemente. 
Your arms wound around his neck, pulling you nearly out of the Bronco and against your boyfriend’s tall frame and he made a sound of approval deep in his throat. You felt it through his chest, and the hand in your hair pulled his aviators out of them before he ran his fingers slid down the exposed skin of your back, skimming over the ties that held your bikini top up.
When Bradley pulled back a breath, you were both panting, lips swollen, a little drunk chasing the taste of each other.
“You still don’t remember?” Bradley asked, his voice low, rough, the rasp of it sending a tremor through you. 
You shook your head and Bradley’s eyes darkened, even as he smiled.
“Backseat, sweet girl,” Bradley said, stepping back out of your space, but you still felt his touch all over your skin. “Now.”
And, what, were you gonna say no to that?
You kicked off your sandals, leaving them in the front seat as you slipped under Bradley’s arm, and into the door he opened to the backseat of his car.
You heard Bradley chuckling at your haste as he followed behind you, pulling the door shut and then hauling you into his lap by your thighs. 
You landed gracelessly, straddling him in the hunched space, and a moment later, his mouth found yours as he kissed you again. It was different like this, just as delicious but closer. Thighs over each other, stomachs against one another, limbs cramped in the tight space as you scrambled for purchase in each others’ bodies. Yours settled on Bradley’s shoulders, and you could feel his strong arms shifting, running over you, and then gone. You pulled back questioningly when Bradley’s hands lifted from your skin, to find him hastily shrugging out of his Hawaiian shirt. 
“Presumptive,” you teased him, leaning in to kiss his neck while he tried to pull the shirt out from where it was trapped between him and the seat. You felt his chest constrict when your lips brushed against his pulse point and he yanked the shirt out from behind him sharply. 
You expected him to toss it to the side, but instead, he fixed the garment around your shoulders, feeding your arms through it and buttoning one of the buttons across your chest. It was the opposite of what you expected from him, but when Bradley seemed satisfied, he surged towards you again, kissing you deeply. As his lips moved over yours, you felt his hands smooth over your skin, reaching under his shirt to untie your bikini. 
Now that made more sense.
A couple quick tugs later, and your bikini fell to the floor of the Bronco; you broke away from Bradley’s mouth with a gasp when his warm palms came up to cup your breasts. 
“Presumptive, she says,” he muttered against your lips, kissing you almost harshly. “I think you meant ‘possessive’, gorgeous.” 
His thumbs brushed over your nipples, teasing them into hardened points against his calloused fingers and the loose brush of his shirt. You squirmed in his lap, his words reminding you just how exposed you were.
“Babe, do you think—” you started, and he interrupted you with another kiss, with another pinch under his shirt. 
“You think I’m gonna let anyone else see my girl?” he asked, his grip on you tightening.
His possessiveness sent another bolt of desire through you, and you leaned into his touch, pressing yourself into him. Bradley seemed more than happy with the motion, his fingers working over you and his lips latching onto your neck again. 
When he grazed your skin with his teeth, your hips bucked into him, and you both moaned at the contact. You were both still in your swimsuits, but you could feel the outline of Bradley’s cock against your thigh, through the thin material of his swimsuit. One of Bradley’s hands fell to your hip, helping to guide your motion as you moved over his thigh. His legs were so thick, strong under you and tensed like this, and the dragging movement rubbed your swimsuit against your core, and Bradley let out a long breath as you moved over him. 
“That’s it, honey, feels good, doesn’t it?” 
You pressed your lips together, nodding, your hands coming to rest on his stomach. You could feel how tightly he was clenched, wound, just letting you use his body to seek your own relief. This man, this enormous, powerful man, letting you rut against him just because it felt good. 
“Ah, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful,” Bradley whispered, and when you looked up, he was watching you closely. His head was back against the headrest, and his eyes were hooded as his hands guided your movement, admiration shining in them. “You have me feeling like a damn teenager, not waiting till we get home because I need to feel my pussy before then.”
You whimpered at the crude way he described you as his, but you rocked your hips again and it was true. You were his, entirely and completely, and you were needy. 
“Babe,” you whispered, your voice thin as you rocked against him, needing more. 
“I’m here, gorgeous,” Bradley told you, and one of his hands lifted to slip inside of your swimsuit. You looked down, couldn’t help yourself, moaning at the sight of his thick wrist against your stomach, his big hand stretching the black material of your swimsuit. 
Your body jolted when he dragged a finger through your folds, and Bradley moaned when he felt the wetness gathered there. You were scratching him, your nails scrambling for purchase against his skin, as his finger pulled your arousal from between your thighs to rub over your clit. He felt so good, heavenly, unhurried and overwhelming and Bradley continued to guide your hips over him with the hand on your thigh. The slow motion dragged you against his finger, and he shifted his wrist to keep a finger against your clit but reach between your legs to push two fingers into your cunt. 
“Oh my god,” you moaned at the intrusion, the stretch another kind of overwhelming, and you felt Bradley still.
“You know better than that, sweet girl,” Bradley said, his voice low. “What do you say when I’m between your legs?”
“Bradley,” you whimpered, your hips rocking, trying to get his fingers deeper inside of you, but his hand remained frozen. 
“Say my name like you mean it, honey,” he said slowly, moving his wrist again, repositioning.  
“Bradley,” you all but sobbed, needing friction, needing something, needing more of him, “please, baby, please, I need to—Bradley–”
“That’s better, gorgeous,” he said approvingly, and then he shoved a third finger into you. 
Your thighs jerked, hips automatically pushing away from the intrusion, but Bradley held you steady, not waiting for you to adjust before his fingers were moving inside of you. 
You moaned as his long fingers reached deep into you, and you heard Bradley laughing quietly to himself as he leaned forward to kiss the curve of your jaw gently. The soft pressure of his lips was a wild juxtaposition to the merciless stretch of his fingers, and you writhed over him, desperate. His fingers curled inside of you, his thumb pressing steadily on your clit, and you ground against his hand, wildly chasing your pleasure.
“So pretty,” Bradley murmured. “Such a pretty pussy, taking my fingers so well. You know you have to, have to stretch her out so my cock will fit.”
You moaned, nodding dazedly, your hand falling to his swim trunks to find the cock in question. 
Fuck, he was so hard.
Just from your pleasure, just from the press of your body against his; you moaned as you slid your hand over the length of him. Bradley let out a choked breath when you squeezed him over his trunks, and then he let go of your hip to brace himself, lifting you and his hips so you could slide the trunks down his thighs, and you couldn’t help the whine that escaped out of you. 
He was so fucking strong, and when he sank back down, his cock bobbed in his lap, and you reached for him eagerly. Bradley moaned when your hand closed over him, warm skin against warm skin, and when you looked up at him, he licked his lips, his mouth slightly agape, watching you. 
“You gonna jerk me off, honey?” he asked, his voice rough. “Work that cock up to fill you, while I stretch my pussy out to take me?” 
You whimpered, bringing your hand up to your mouth to spit on it, before sliding your hand over his cock. A bit of precum was already leaking out of the tip, and Bradley swore softly when your thumb reached up to grab the pearl of moisture, mixing it with your spit as you worked over him.
You would never get tired of the sounds your boyfriend made. 
He was never shy about talking to you, telling you what he wanted, how hot you made him, but it was his moans and groans that got you off. You loved when he sounded undone, knowing you were the one pulling those gorgeous sounds out of him, and you tightened your grip around his dick as you worked over him. 
“Fuck, sweet girl,” Bradley groaned in response, his head dropping to your shoulder. He curled his fingers inside you, and you whined when he realized he was matching his movements with your hand over his cock. 
“What do you think, gorgeous,” he asked gruffly. “You think you’re ready for me?”
You licked your lips, looking down at the length of him in your hand, swelling larger with every pull of your hand over him. You were never really ready, not before an orgasm, but you wanted to be stretched over him, more than you wanted to be ready. 
“Please, Bradley,” you nodded, rising up on your thighs for Bradley to undo the strings of your bikini bottoms as well. It joined the top on the floorboards of the Bronco, and Bradley hummed to himself as he took you in, wearing only his shirt, rutting against his thigh and working his cock in your hand.
“Love you so much, sweet girl,” he said quietly, and your heart clenched at his soft admission, in the middle of a frenzied pitch. 
“Love you too, Bradley,” you whispered. You leaned in to kiss him quickly, settling back down on his thighs, and pulling your hand over his cock again. “So are you gonna fuck me about it?”
Bradley’s eyes fluttered as your grip tightened and your words settled over him. When he opened them, you could barely see the brown of his irises, his eyes were blown wide. 
“Christ, you’re perfect,” he groaned, and then he batted your hand away, lifted your hips and impaled you on his cock. 
You didn’t mean to scream. 
But his thrust pushed all the air out of you, and all you could think was him, Bradley, Bradley, and you realized you were moaning it aloud, like a prayer.
“You’re so fucking tight, gorgeous,” Bradley gritted, his hands smoothing over your shoulders, his voice tight as he held himself still, waiting for you to adjust.
Not like you could do a damn thing. 
Your body felt like it was on fire, full and stretched and absolutely alight with desire, every inch of you pulsing for him. You needed him to move, you needed to adjust, you needed him, that was what you knew. 
“You’re doing so good for me, sweet girl,” Bradley whispered, one of his hands coming up to pet your hair. You lowered your head to his shoulder, feeling molten, past numb, like being draped over him was the only way you wanted to stay forever. 
Bradley was still running his hands over you, and you could feel his breath coming in measured pulls, as he tightly held onto control.
After a couple more moments, you felt a little more grounded, more adjusted. You became aware of the way your shaky breathing was echoing around the car, the windows fogged like Titanic, your sweet boyfriend holding himself in check until you told him you were okay.
“Bradley?” you asked weakly, reaching up slowly to cup the back of his head, even though you still didn’t feel like you could lift your head. 
“Yeah, gorgeous,” he breathed, and your heart swelled at the care in his voice.
“I want to feel you, babe,” you told him, and you felt a shiver work through his body.
“Thank fuck,” he groaned. 
He rocked up into you, a broken cry easing out of you as he pushed even deeper, your thighs widening to accommodate him. 
“That’s it, sweet thing,” Bradley moaned, and he pulled out before thrusting into you. 
The drag of him was absolutely heaven, thick and rough and reaching that deep part of you that only he could. You moaned as he set a rhythm against you, his strong thighs flexing to drive up into you, splitting you, completing you. 
“Baby, it’s so good, you’re so good, you feel—fuck, baby,” you babbled, and Bradley groaned.
He guided your hand farther up his scalp, twining your fingers into his hair and you pulled slightly. His hips thrust harder and you whined at the ferocity of it, the perfection of it. 
“That’s it, gorgeous,” Bradley groaned, “taking me like you were fucking made for it, moaning on my cock like it’s all you wanted.”
In that moment, you weren’t sure if it wasn’t. 
The whole world was this Bronco, wrapped in your boyfriend’s arms, feeling him pushing into you, the air thick with both of your sweat and sex and the moans you couldn’t stop from pouring out of you. 
Bradley drove up into you, and his hands fell back to your hips, guiding your movement against him. At the top of your stroke, your pelvis pressed against his and your clit rubbed against him, and it sent white heat curling through your body. You were gasping and writhing and each sound you made seemed only to spur your boyfriend on, as he drove you higher. His thrusts were slowing, hitting deeper, and you felt your legs start trembling at the intensity.
“Are you close, baby?” he asked, almost growled, his voice close to your ear. “Tell me you’re close, gorgeous, you feel so tight, and I can’t—”
“Yes, shit, Bradley, I’m so close,” you moaned, your body pulsing, begging, trembling. 
“Give it to me, baby,” Bradley ordered, his voice sharp in your ear, his thrusts unrelenting, as your legs drew up, involuntarily. “Come on this cock, baby, let me feel it, let me feel you–”
You came with a wail, your climax crashing over you like a wave that sent you tumbling. You might’ve choked, you might’ve cried, all you knew was the white hot heat pulsing through your body, leaving you limbless and sated in its wake. 
You came back slowly, the darkness of night seeping in through the fogged windows of the Bronco, and you became aware of your boyfriend slowly moving your hips still, working you over him, coaxing you through it. 
“Bradley,” you whimpered into his neck, and you felt his chest expand.
“You did so good for me, sweet girl,” he said, his voice soft, just on this side of undone, “so fucking good.”
“Baby…” you chided him gently as understanding dawned that he still hadn’t come yet. You moved your hips slightly, and Bradley’s hands held you in place sternly. 
“Gorgeous, I’m so fucking close, but you were so sensitive, just give me a—” 
Summoning strength you didn’t have and ignoring Bradley’s futile protests, you slid off of him, swallowing a moan when you felt wetness drip down your thighs as you moved. There wasn’t a ton of room in the backseat, but there was enough that you could lower yourself to the floorboards between your boyfriend’s knees, look up at him through sated eyes, and open your mouth, holding out your tongue.
“Fucking hell,” Bradley breathed, and you would’ve smirked, but what you wanted more than anything was to make him come. 
So you leaned forward, tongue teasing just the tip of him, before you opened your jaw and took Bradley’s cock in your mouth.
He hit the ceiling of the Bronco, a stream of curses ripping from his lips as your mouth closed around him, humming slightly. Fuck, the weight of him. He was so broad, fat and thick in your mouth, and you tasted yourself on him, tasted how thoroughly he had fucked you, and you couldn’t help but moan around him.
“Baby, baby,” Bradley groaned, his thighs flexing as he held himself back. “Baby, I’m too close, I can’t be gentle—”
You pulled back with a pop, a stream of saliva falling from his cock to your mouth, and Bradley let out a sound that was almost a whine. That pretty sound had you reaching between your legs, brushing your fingers over your still sensitive core, just at how good he sounded. 
“Fuck my mouth, Lieutenant,” you told him, and his eyes fluttered, before you added, “Please.”
His head fell back against the headrest and he groaned, a sound that went straight to your core. You took him back in your mouth, your tongue tracing the underside of his cock, and you felt a large hand settle at the back of your neck. 
You whimpered when Bradley gathered the hair there, and started to guide you. Your eyes fell closed and you loosened your jaw, surrendering to the act of it. Yes, you were on your knees and it was your mouth around his dick, but the sounds pouring out of Bradley, the stern hand he kept on the back of your head, it felt like he was worshiping you. 
He was so heavy on your tongue, and it was sloppy, but when Bradley started pushing your head faster, you worked your hand faster between your legs. He sounded so good, he tasted so good, and when you moaned you couldn’t have said if it was from the way he was pulling your hair, the building pressure between your thighs, or how good he tasted.
“You’re fucking perfect, gorgeous,” Bradley groaned. “Are you going to come again when I come? Is my pussy going to come for me, on my girl’s fingers while I fuck her mouth?”
You gagged, tears streaming down your face, and when Bradley moaned your name on a final curse and came down your throat, you climaxed on your fingers like he’d said. 
Bradley’s thighs were shaking as he pumped down your throat, his hand in your hair smoothing over your hair and then curling under the back of your neck to haul you back up to his lap. Your limbs were shaking from your second orgasm, lungs heaving from how he’d choked you on his cock. Bradley dragged his lips over you, whispering praises and pressing kisses to everywhere he could reach, just shy of delirious. 
You could relate. 
The Bronco was steamy and humid, and it felt like your own little world. A sphere where the only thing that mattered was your sweet boyfriend, the honest perfection you found in each other, and the strength to care for each other even when you couldn’t explain it.
Eventually, Bradley carded his fingers through your hair, and pulled his swimsuit back up. He left yours on the floor, and buttoned his shirt over you carefully, continuing to finger comb your hair.
When you drove out of the campsite, the ranger avoided both of your eyes.
As you turned back onto the 101, Bradley kept your hand in his, driving with his knees when he needed to change gears. The music picked up again as you drove on, and, remembering, you turned to him. 
“So, what was that song?” you asked, still uncertain. 
In the moonlight, your boyfriend smiled, his eyes flashing as he lifted your hand to his mouth to press a kiss to the inside of your wrist.
“Don’t you remember, gorgeous?” he asked, voice still low. “That song was playing the time we pulled off the 101 so I could fuck you in the back of my Bronco.”
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theharddeck · 1 year
Text
california coast in your green eyes || chapter 1/5
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Pairing: Jake Seresin x Julie Floyd (OC)
Synopsis: Bob's older sister gets the news that his plane went down during a training drill, and shows up at the hospital at the same time as an arrogant pilot.
Warnings: is this the first fic I've posted without warnings? I guess swearing?
Length: 3.7k
A/N: crossposting from ao3, so if reading on there is easier, here ya go!
“Name, please?”
The MA inside the booth at the base access point didn’t look up as Julie held her ID out the window of the car. 
“Julie Floyd,” she said, proud of the steady way her voice carried, betraying none of the anxiety tightening her throat. 
“Julie Floyd,” the MA intoned, starting to type into the database. He made it through half of her name with his index fingers when his words registered.
“No, sorry,” Julie shook her head. “It’ll be in there as Julia, with an “a”, Julia Floyd.”
The MA sighed, backing up over the letters at a pace that it would be flattering to call glacial. 
Julie made herself let go of the steering wheel, counting her breathing as the search ran. 
Inhale - two - three - four, exhale - two - three - four. 
She flexed her fingers in her lap; she’d been clutching the steering wheel since she’d left her shift at Rady Children’s Hospital, after getting the call she’d been fearing since Robbie enlisted.
Robbie’s going to be fine - two - three - four, will this database fucking hurry up - two - three - four.
The computer gave a self-satisfied chirp as her picture popped up on the screen inside the booth, and Julie sat up sharply.
“There it is,” she said, hands back on the steering wheel, impatient, “matches my ID and everything.”
“Sure does,” the MA drawled. He clicked around on her profile, looked down at her ID, and didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry, despite the way Julie’s foot hovered dangerously close to the accelerator. “And who are you here to see?”
“My brother,” Julie said. “Lieutenant Robert Floyd.”
The MA nodded, his mouse hovering over the note on whatever profile of hers he was viewing, that confirmed as much.
“Hmm,” he hummed.
Julie thought she might crack a tooth. “What is it?” she asked, voice as patient as she could manage. 
The MA shook his head. “Sorry, but I don’t see you on the list for visitation today for your brother—”
“My kid brother,” Julie said, knowing interrupting was high on the list of Things Not To Do To The Man Who Gets To Decide If You’re Allowed On Base Or Not , but past caring, “whose airplane swallowed a pelican and crashed somewhere between here and Nevada, and who’s being monitored in the infirmary right there.”
She didn’t look away from the man as she pointed to the nondescript white rooftop behind a couple of other buildings inside of the base.
The MA followed her hand, then looked back at her, appraising. 
Julie knew what he saw—someone way too tall for both the Camry she drove and the purple scrubs she wore, curly hair pulling out of a hurried French braid, brown eyes just crazed enough to indicate that she knew how thin of ice she was treading on, but was going to keep on treading whether it held her or not.
He opened the gate.
Julie smiled a tight-lipped thanks, taking back her ID and a parking badge before rolling up her window and pushing the Camry up to the 25mph speed limit as quick as she could. 
Robbie’s going to be fine - two - three - four, please park the car without totalling it so you can go in and see for yourself - two - three - four. 
It was late afternoon, getting closer to evening, and parking was hard to come by, as folks had already settled into the evening. When Julie found a spot, she hoped the parking slip she left on the dashboard was a strong enough argument against the 15-minute Parking Only sign in front of it, and jogged towards the infirmary.
The nurses here know what they’re doing - two - three - four, having a panic attack in public will help no one - two - three - four. 
Julie blew out that last breath for a little longer, then pasted a smile on her face as she pushed open the doors of the infirmary. The nurse at the desk was a civilian, and gave her the room number with an empathetic expression, along with a warning that they were still running diagnostics, and she might not be able to go in yet.
Julie followed the winding hallways, feeling her heartbeat pounding in her sneakers. They squeaked on the linoleum and when she got to the holding room, the door was closed. Julie glared at it for a moment, and then folded herself into one of the chairs in the hallway, pressing her shaking hands together. 
He’s fine - two - three - four, he has to be fine - two - three - four. 
She pushed out of the chair, absolutely unable to sit still. She paced the floor in front of the room, her steps silencing as she focused on rolling her sneakers against the wax, learning the pattern. There were fourteen linoleum rectangles between the door to Robbie’s room and the next one, and Julie crossed them quickly, turning sharply at the end of her pace, and sweeping down to the door on the other side.
Agnostically, intellectually, she knew that the lack of activity was good. 
As an OR nurse herself, Julie knew that if something were dangerously wrong, there’d be a rush of personnel swarming in and out of the room. But the hallway was quiet, and the room behind it was quiet, and it was all quiet, which was good, except quiet meant the only thing Julie could hear was her thoughts, which were loud to start with—
“Not exactly the most reassuring sight.”
Julie stopped short, her sneakers squeaking as she turned to find a man halfway out of flight coveralls stalking down the hallway. He was tall, maybe even taller than her, and the echo of his boots matched the slight Texan accent she thought she’d heard on his voice. 
“Pardon?” Julie managed, not making sense of his words. 
“A man hears his team go down on the radio, comes to check in on ‘em, and finds the nurse on the verge of a panic attack in the hallway,” the man said. He shook his head, as he got closer, the calmness in his tone belying the tense set of his shoulders. “Doesn’t exactly instill confidence, does it?”
Julie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 
“These aren’t regulation—” Julie started, then cut off when the man’s eyes flitted down to run over her not-Navy-issued scrubs; she crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t work here.”
He processed that information well, in that he seemed to not process it at all, continuing on his path. He stopped in front of Robbie’s door, looking like he might knock, and Julie moved with years of nursing instinct, putting herself in front of the door to stop him from disturbing.
“Doctors are still finishing their assessment,” she said, tone professional, before the consequences of her movement registered.
It was a thin hallway to start with, and in wedging herself between this stranger and the door, she’d left barely any room at all between them. They were nearly eye level, and this close, Julie noticed his were green, stark against the tanned skin of his face. She also noticed there were some smudges on the white of his undershirt, and a thin veil of sweat coasted across his neck, as if he really had rushed here from wherever he’d been when he heard the radio call. His shoulders went back slightly, and when she looked back up at him, he seemed both disproportionately pleased and unsurprised to have caught her looking. 
The man raised an eyebrow, making no move to step back. “Thought you didn’t work here,” he said.
His voice sounded different this close. 
Not deeper, but like she could hear the way amusement colored it richer. Julie resisted the urge to clear her throat, and tipped her head to the side, looking pointedly at his still-raised hand. 
“Doesn’t mean I don’t know the breaks,” she said, pleased with how unaffected her voice sounded. 
“And the breaks say I can’t check in on my friends?”
Julie’s eyes narrowed for a moment; she knew next to nothing about this man, but she doubted he was the type to befriend someone as shy as Robbie. And just a moment ago, he’d called them his team…
Ah, he’s here for the pilot, then.
Robbie hadn’t told Julie much about the pilot he flew with, but Julie knew she was damn good, and if the woman was half as pretty as her Instagram, it made sense that the cowboy was here for her. 
Mystery solved, Julie lifted her chin. “The breaks say you don’t barge into a patient’s room while people who know what they’re doing are in there.”
He watched her for a moment longer, then shrugged, stepping back. Julie would’ve gloated, but she was interrupted by the sound of the door opening behind her. The doctor stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him, and looking between Julie and the pilot.  
“Oh, visitors,” the doctor said, bereft of enthusiasm. “Not much to see—we’re holding them overnight for observation, but they should be just fine. Nothing broken, no concussions, just fading adrenaline and routine soreness/bruising that come with landings like that one. A nurse is wrapping up their vitals, but when he’s done, you’re welcome to visit briefly. Do try to let them get some rest.”
The doctor nodded, then stepped between the two of them before continuing down the hallway. Julie stared after him, relief crashing over her as his words sank in. 
Nothing broken, no concussions, just fine.  
Robbie was going to be okay.
It’s what the infirmary had told her, when they dialed his emergency contact number and found an overbearing older sister on the other end of the line, but to have it confirmed, to have it verified by a doctor who’d just come from the room—
“Didn’t think I’d miss it, but maybe you should try that panic breathing again.”
Julie glared at the pilot, hating that he was right—she did need to breathe. She pulled in a breath, promptly choked on it, and held up a hand in his direction to warn him to not say a word, rather than assure him she was okay as she coughed.
Not that he even cared.
Not that she cared that he didn’t care. 
Inhale - two - three - four, please don’t further embarrass yourself in front of the arrogant pilot - two - three - four.
The world felt like it was tipping back onto its globe stand and when Julie opened her eyes, she figured she must be still oxygen-deprived, because there was no way the pilot was looking at her with concern. 
The door creaked open, emitting a lanky nurse. 
“He fell asleep, but if you want to go in, you can,” he told them, leaving the door open as he continued down the hall. When Julie looked back to the pilot, his expression was changed, replaced by nonchalant ambivalence.
“You gonna pass out on me,” he asked, “or can I go see my team?”
Julie straightened, running a hand over her hair, wishing absently that she’d used her waiting time to re-braid it. Robbie thought she was stressed out enough, without her showing up looking like she’d stuck her fingers in an electrical socket. Her eyes flicked out to the shoulder of the man’s flight suit, finding the insignia there before she answered. 
“Your concern is touching, Lieutenant,” she said wryly, and she turned to step into the room before he could. The room was dark, the curtains drawn and most of the light was coming from the hallway, now blocked by the pilot as he followed her in. 
As the nurse had said, Robbie was asleep. 
His face was sideways on a stack of hospital-standard pillows, and Julie felt her heart settle seeing him there. He had a couple of scratches across his face, nothing too deep, and he seemed mostly unharmed, as the doctors had promised.
Julie crossed the room to pick up the clipboard at the edge of the cot, reading through the listings the nurse had left.
He seemed okay. He was going to be okay. 
Julie flipped to another page, pressing a hand over her still pounding heart. 
“Phoenix.”
“Hangman.”
Julie looked up at the hushed exchange. The woman in the bed parallel to Robbie’s was beautiful, even with exhaustion under her eyes and a couple matching scrapes, and she lifted her chin as the man from the hallway stood at the foot of her bed.
“Coyote with you?” she asked.
“Nah,” the lieutenant looked down, and if Julie didn’t know better, she’d say he looked sheepish. There seemed to be a fair share of history between the two of them, not all of it amicable, and Julie wasn’t sure what it meant.
The woman hummed, processing that. “Rooster doing okay? Must’ve been rough over the radio.”
The lieutenant laughed, a short sharp sound, rubbing his jaw with one of his hands. “Y’all are the ones who went down, Phoenix; don’t worry about Rooster.”
“So what does it say, is he okay?”
Julie realized the question was directed at her when both of them turned to her. The woman’s dark eyes were intense and Julie nodded, setting the clipboard down as quietly as she could. 
“He’s good,” she told her, mirroring their hushed tones to keep their conversation quiet and Robbie sleeping. “Want me to check yours?”
She shrugged, and Julie crossed the room to the other bed, picking the clipboard. 
Natasha Trace was the name at the top of the sheet, so Julie assumed Phoenix was her callsign.
Her stats looked comparable to Robbie’s, her blood pressure sitting a little higher, which tracked. Julie scanned down the rest of the page, and she felt her neck prickle as she continued to read. When she looked up, she saw the lieutenant hadn’t moved from his position at the foot of Natasha’s bed, and was watching her intently from just over her shoulder. She could feel how close he was standing, and his gaze was just as intense as Natasha's had been, but it felt different. 
“Do you mind, Houston,” Julie mumbled, flipping to the next page and refusing to look at him. 
“Dallas,” he said, and she could hear the smirk on his voice, “but I won’t hold it against you.”
Julie’s eyebrows lifted, scanning the chart. “God forbid someone thinks you’re new money, right?”
Natasha snorted and they both looked up at her. 
“I was worried for a second,” she shrugged, “thought you came in with him.”
“I’m just here for Robbie,” Julie said, setting down the clipboard. “And your chart says the same as his: overnight monitoring is just protocol, and you’ll be good to go the moment they release you.”
Natasha nodded. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, no problem.” Julie walked back over to Robbie’s bed, trying to stop herself from fussing with the pillows under his head. 
There was a small table by the headboard, and Robbie’s wire glasses were folded on top of them. The lenses were smudged, and Julie picked them up, cleaning them with the hem of the top of her scrubs. The room was quiet for a moment, just a moment, before the pilot cleared his throat again.
“ Robbie , huh?” he asked, curiosity in his voice.
Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t any of his business how she was related to her brother, especially since he couldn’t decide if they were teammates or friends, and Natasha’s reaction seemed less friendly than either.
“Yep,” she said, noncommittally, switching to the other lens.
“You know,” he continued, doggedly, “the guys and I were trying to figure out what Bob stands for and—”
Julie wished she were holding something a little less precious than Robbie’s glasses, so she could have chucked it at the man, or at least slammed it down on the table.
“He’s named after his father and his grandfather, asshole, and I know this kind of thing is routine for pilots like you, but if you could give me thirty seconds of silence to process that my baby brother is actually doing alright after crashing into the side of a mountain, that would be great.”
Their voices had been hushed since they came into the room, but the beeping of machines around them seemed extra loud in the silence following Julie’s outburst. The light was still behind the pilot so Julie couldn’t see his expression, but he held up his hands in a placating gesture.
“You’re Jules?” Natasha asked quietly.
“Julia,” she corrected, her chest feeling tight at the nickname her family used for her, surprised to hear it from Natasha. “Um, Julie’s fine.”
Natasha had a strange expression on her face. 
“He said you’d be freaked,” she said, almost smiling. “Asked the nurse if he could change the emergency contact so it would go to your folks and you wouldn’t panic and come over here.”
Julie shook her head, looking down at her brother. “Lucky for him that they didn’t; I would’ve been even more pissed if I’d heard it from them.”
Natasha shifted on her bed, then looked back to the lieutenant. “Hangman, want to get me a Snickers or something?”
The man blinked. “What?”
“Skittles are fine, too, or a Reese’s. Vending machine’s at the end of the hall.”
Julie looked at the lieutenant, waiting to see if Natasha’s play would work.
He rolled his shoulders, crossing his arms. “I know what you’re doing, but I’m letting it happen,” he told Natasha.
Julie felt his eyes on her, but she looked down at the glasses, and after a moment’s hesitation he left the room. Natasha sighed, a sound that wasn’t really meant to be heard, and she pushed herself up slightly in the bed.   
“The button’s by your left wrist,” Julie told her, getting the firm impression that Natasha accepted help even less than she asked for it.
Natasha grunted, then rolled her eyes, forgoing adjusting the bed to push herself up to sitting. She was a couple inches shorter than Julie, and even in her hospital gown, she had an air of intensity about her that was intimidating. Julie left the glasses back on the table and leaned against Robbie’s bed to face the pilot. 
“So what did you want to say to me?” she asked Natasha. 
The other woman looked over at her, then past her to the bed, her expression softening when her gaze landed on Robbie.
“I’ve got two brothers,” Natasha said. “Twins. They’re twelve now, you know, not like we grew up together. Not like…”
She trailed off, and Julie knew where the comparison was going. She wasn’t interested in placing blame any more than she was in getting an apology, plus she figured whatever she wished hadn’t happened, Natasha wished it harder.
“He called me when they pulled him to TOPGUN,” Julie said quietly. “I don’t know any more than I’m supposed to, obviously, with everything about this mission be classified, but I know he’s real proud to fly with you.”
Natasha cleared her throat. “Me too. He’s sharp and he’s sweet, which is more than I can say about most of my peers.”
Julie smiled, and she imagined both of them were envisioning a Texan lieutenant. 
Natasha smiled too, a tentative thing, then she sobered. “I don’t carry being his pilot lightly. That…that’s all I wanted to say to you.”
Julie looked at her, and their gazes held. In Natasha’s eyes, Julie saw her hunger and her determination, but underneath it, that duty she felt. To her brother, to the team, and Julie knew that was better than she could hope for.
“Thank you,” she said.
Natasha nodded. 
She lowered herself back to her elbows, then all the way back to the bed, wincing as she adjusted.  
“Hangman’ll be back in a minute,” Natasha said to the ceiling. “I’d apologize for him, but he’s always like that. He’s damn good, and walks around like he knows it.”
Julie figured as much. 
“Saving this one,” she tipped her head back to indicate to her brother, “most pilots seem to have that in common.”
Natasha grinned, not offended in the slightest that she hadn’t been excluded from that generalization. 
“Unfortunately for all of us, Hangman’s actually right; he is the best. Unless Rooster can get out of his own head…” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “You don’t need to know this. Anyways, if you want to take a lap, I’m sure Hangman will be gone when you’re back, and you can wait on Bob to wake up.” 
Julie could appreciate a bit of strategy. 
She stood, looking down at her brother’s sleeping form. She brushed some of his hair off his forehead, a motion pulled from memory. 
“I left my car in 15-minute parking,” she told Natasha, “let me find it a permanent spot. You need anything while I’m up?”
Natasha waved a hand airily, her eyes already closed. “I’m good; I have a vending machine candy on the way.”
Julie nodded, her hand falling to her side as she walked away from the bed. 
Outside in the hallway, she paused for a moment, her back pressed against the wall of the room she’d just walked out of. Her eyes closed briefly, and Julie dropped the vestiges of composure she’d held in the room. He was okay, and he was going to continue to be fine. Meeting Natasha had only confirmed that. 
Julie blew out a slow breath, opening her eyes, and stepped away from the wall. She started down the hall and then remembered the direction she’d come from, and switched, heading back to the parking structure. As she approached a corner, she heard boots echoing on the linoleum, and checked the bubble mirror hanging above the blind corner to confirm who was walking towards her.
“Lieutenant,” she said calmly, stepping aside and not breaking her stride as she rounded the corner.
“Julia,” he said, equally nonplussed.
Julie turned sharply, stopping before the corner obscured him. 
“No one calls me Julia,” she called to his retreating back. “It’s Julie, to you.” 
He turned around, a Twizzler hanging out of his mouth. She noticed he had unopened bags of Skittles, Reese’s cups, and a Snickers, all of Natasha’s requests. He pulled the red candy out of his mouth like a cigar, pointing it at her. 
“It’s Jake, then,” he said, and took another bite of the Twizzler, somehow managing to smile around it, “to you.”
Julie turned again and he did the same, walking away from the corner and the rounded mirror and the man whose boots echoed down the empty hallway. 
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