dr-mei-b

[dr-mei-b]

Top Gun Maverick + The Onion

Top Gun Silliness

[dr-mei-b]

in the morning, lucius helps you get comfortable riding a horse. in the night, you don't need assistance with a ride you know well. he offers it anyway. riding; raw pnv; fluff into smut; cocky lucius, reader has braids! :P MDNI 18+ w/ LUCIUS VERUS

rome is a republic, and therefore, rome is now a home. for you and for lucius.

there is still much to be done, much that needs to change, but that burden has fallen onto the elected officials of the republic. lucius verus is not one of those officials, which leaves time in his day for other tasks such as this.

idleness still has not come natural to him.

he likes having something to do with his hands, but even then the tickle at the back of his neck and the worry cemented in his brain prevents him from being completely present in a moment. he has no other choice but to find tasks to do that occupy his entire body and soul, and today's task has been getting you comfortable on the back of a horse.

"you are tense and she is aware." he is blunt with his statements and it irks you. lucius knows he is not being very helpful currently, but he can only do so much from the ground while he stares up at you, one hand shielding his tanned face from the sun and the other placed on his hip.

"i am also aware, lucius." you even speak through clenched teeth.

lucius tries a different approach. he softens his voice, accidentally slipping into the cadence that he uses when it is only the two of you and the four walls of your home to witness the ways you both indulge in the others body.

"just breathe and take it slow. it's okay."

from the ground lucius can see the change in your body. the tension from your legs is gone and the stiffness in the back has dissipated as well. but you are not relaxed, and perhaps that is still his fault.

"i wish you would not speak to me like that when i am up here, lucius."

lucius laughs, the sound bigger than he initially intended, but it makes you laugh, too, and finally your body begins to loosen.

"just remember what i have taught you. don't second guess yourself."

and finally, there is progress being made. lucius follows you and the horse around the grounds, waiting with endearment in his eyes as you lean into the flow you have created.

by the time your feet hit the ground again, lucius thinks you have made good progress. he kisses you as he tells you so.

idleness has not come natural to lucius, he needs to be doing something at all times. except, it seems that he can submit to inactivity when it comes in this form—you above him, slowly rocking your hips in search of your own pleasure.

he watches the way you move your body to your advantage, guiding your hips back and forth with his cock completely sheathed inside of you. his body is relaxed, one hand tucked behind his head and the other resting on your hip, but his eyes are restless. they struggle to find a single place to settle on, constantly flickering from your gaze to your breasts to your tummy to where your bodies are flush together—grown patches of hair knitted.

everything about you is enchanting, how could he settle on just one part?

you have a hand on lucius' chest, holding yourself steady as you sit up tall. gone is the updo you had earlier as your hair now frames your face, strands of braids pressing against your cheeks and laying against your bare skin down your back. a couple of times you let out these pretty gasps, your face scrunched up when lucius teasingly knocks his hips up into yours, testing you and attempting to throw you off kilter. it doesn't work. you only plant your hands firmer onto lucius' chest and take him with determination.

the irony of how well you take this ride compared to the other from this morning does not evade him.

he was proud this morning, but the pride he feels now is different. it spreads a grin on his face and sends more blood down to his cock. he's trying to be still, he is trying to let you maintain control of this situation. you do not need his help, you can handle this on your own. but lucius does not want to help because you are incapable, he wants to help because it comes to him naturally.

he cannot just watch you exert yourself without aiding.

he thrusts shallowly up into you, watching the way your eyes widen with shock. he laughs a bit to himself, stroking the skin over your hip with the rough pad of his thumb.

"do you object?"

you hesitate, planting your teeth into your bottom lip. "i can handle it," you eventually say.

lucius nods. "i am aware, but do you object?" he speaks slowly, making sure you hear every single word.

you shake your head and that is all lucius needs to dig his heels into the bed, pull your torso down to his, and assist. he presses his fingertips into the flesh of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and using your skin as a grip.

when you whine and press your forehead into his chest, lucius tuts, clicking his teeth like he's calling an animal.

"look at me," he asks, your name sweetly following the request. you shakily lift your gaze until lucius' eyes find yours. not even a second later does your forehead fall to his, collapsing as if the weight of your skull was too much for you to carry.

the tips of your noses brush together as lucius jostles you with every drive of his cock. mouths wide open share air through gasping inhales and trembly exhales. you look so thoroughly spent like this, slightly different from the ethereal way you looked as you sat atop of him.

gratification floods lucius when you moan his name, eyes pinched shut as you feebly press your cunt down onto him.

his lips quirk up as he says, "tell me how you are feeling. are you close?"

you fail to answer, your head lolling to the side.

lucius, however, doesn't cease. he follows your movements, making the work he is doing below the waist more punctual throughout. "hm?" he asks, pressing the tip of his nose against yours while his arm hooks around your waist. he slows his hips down, pulling you tight against him and giving you shallow thrusts.

"c'mon," he says your name, the syllables reeking of teasing just before he slips into that same cadence that he used while you were on the horse's back.

"is it so much that you cannot speak to me?"

lucius does not know if you can even hear him over the thunderous claps of skin meeting, but he is just teasing you at this point. he does not bother hiding his grin anymore.

when you actually do try to speak and nothing comes out but garbled speech, lucius has mercy on you. he lays his head back, weaving his hands between the braided strands of your hair and pulling you to rest on his chest.

"close," you say, words muffled against his chest. "'m close, lucius."

"alright," he affirms. "you can do it from here, yeah? help me out?" he can handle it fine on his own, but he wants to see your breasts bounce as you do. he wants to see determination pinch between your eyebrows. he wants to watch pleasure take control of your body and pull your head back by your braids, dropping your mouth open as the pressure of an orgasm rocks throughout your entire body.

plus, it's good practice in a way.

[dr-mei-b]

The Office quotes that the Daggers have 100% said.

@hederasgarden @withahappyrefrain @hangmanssunnies @theharddeck

[dr-mei-b]

the way he loves you

Summary: The Dagger Squad starts to notice the subtle ways Jake Seresin shows his love for you, from quiet moments at home to stolen glances at the Hard Deck. As each of them pieces it together, they realize Jake isn’t just Hangman—he’s yours.

Warnings: use of Y/N, she/her, fluff.

Word count: 1121 (oops i got a bit carried away)

A/N: someone reposted my last “curious gazes” and requested one with all the daggers, and i’ve been thinking about it ever since. i finally got time to write it so i hope you enjoy, i’ve been loving these!!

***

Jake “Hangman” Seresin had a reputation for being bold and larger than life. To most, nothing more than a cocky, overconfident pilot, the kind of guy who never seemed to take life too seriously. But when the Daggers met you, they began to see a side of Jake they’d never expected—a side that made them realize there was far more to him than they ever realized.

And it happened in little moments, each one chipping away at the image of Hangman and revealing Jake.

***

Phoenix

Natasha had always been sharp. She could read people easily, and Jake was no exception. She’d noticed the changes in him before anyone else: how he wasn’t as quick to boast, how he lingered on his phone more often, smiling at something no one else could see.

Still, it wasn’t until that night at the Hard Deck that she put the pieces together.

Jake walked in with you by his side, and Natasha immediately noticed the way he looked at you. It wasn’t the casual charm he used on everyone else—it was softer, almost reverent.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Jake said, his voice filled with a kind of pride that made Natasha blink in surprise.

You smiled and waved, introducing yourself as Jake’s girlfriend, though you didn’t need to. Natasha had already figured it out.

She watched as Jake stayed close to you all night, not in his usual attention-seeking way, but quietly, as if he couldn’t bear to let you out of his sight. When you laughed, he leaned in just a little closer. When you spoke, he listened like your words were the most important thing in the world.

Later, as Jake brushed a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek and a soft smile, Natasha smirked and leaned over to Bob. “He’s gone.”

Bob

Bob Floyd noticed it in the details, in the quiet moments that others might overlook.

When Jake and you invited the squad over for dinner, Bob didn’t know what to expect. He’d never pictured Jake as the hosting type, but as he stepped into your cozy home, he could tell this was different.

“Make yourself at home,” you said warmly, handing Bob a glass of sweet tea.

Jake was in the kitchen, wearing an apron—an apron, of all things—as he stirred something on the stove. Bob couldn’t hide his surprise.

“You’re domesticated, Seresin,” Rooster teased, leaning against the counter.

Jake smirked without looking up. “Happy wife, happy life,” he said easily, earning a laugh from you.

“Not your wife yet,” you teased.

“Yet,” Jake said, glancing at you with a grin and tossing you a wink that made Bob’s chest ache with secondhand fondness.

Bob noticed the way you moved around each other, wordlessly passing utensils and dishes, finishing each other’s sentences. There was a quiet rhythm to it, a kind of unspoken understanding that came from deep love and trust.

When dessert came out, Jake set the plate in front of you first, brushing a kiss to your temple. Bob caught the way you smiled, the way Jake’s hand lingered on yours for just a moment longer than necessary.

Bob glanced at Phoenix, who raised her eyebrows knowingly. “That’s love,” she whispered, and Bob couldn’t agree more.

Rooster

Bradley Bradshaw noticed it during a pool game at the Hard Deck.

Jake had always been competitive, but tonight, he wasn’t playing to win against the squad—he was playing to impress you.

Every shot he made, he’d glance over at you, his grin widening when you clapped or cheered. But it wasn’t just the showmanship that caught Bradley’s attention. It was the way Jake handed you the pool cue, guiding you through your shots with a patience Bradley hadn’t thought him capable of.

“Am I doing this right?” you asked, laughing as you tried to line up your shot.

“You’re perfect,” Jake said softly, his voice so low that only you and Bradley heard.

Bradley rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the grin tugging at his lips. “You’re whipped, Seresin.”

“And happy about it,” Jake shot back, winking.

Bradley couldn’t argue with that.

Payback & Fanboy

Fanboy and Payback noticed it on the beach.

It was a rare day off, and the squad had decided to hit the sand for some football and relaxation. You’d tagged along, sitting under an umbrella with a book in hand while the others played.

Jake kept sneaking glances at you between plays, his grin growing every time you looked up and smiled.

When the game ended, Jake jogged over to you, dropping to his knees in the sand beside your chair. “Having fun?” he asked, brushing sand off his hands.

You smiled, closing your book. “Always, when I’m with you.”

Mickey nudged Reuben, jerking his chin toward the two of you. “Look at him. That’s not the Hangman we know.”

“Nope,” Reuben said with a grin. “That’s Jake. Big difference.”

Coyote

Javy had known from the beginning.

He’d been there when Jake first mentioned you, his voice tinged with something Javy hadn’t heard before: vulnerability. He’d watched as Jake navigated the early days of your relationship, unsure of himself in a way that was both endearing and rare.

At a barbecue one weekend, Javy pulled Jake aside, nodding toward you as you chatted with Phoenix and Bob.

“She’s good for you, man,” Javy said.

Jake nodded, his gaze fixed on you. “Yeah. She is.”

“You ever gonna tell her how whipped you are?” Javy teased.

Jake smirked. “She already knows, no need to say it.”

The Moment They All Realized

The squad’s collective realization came during another gathering at your house.

It was late, and the group was sprawled across the living room, laughing and swapping stories. You were in the kitchen, tidying up, when Jake disappeared without a word.

A few minutes later, he returned with a dish towel over his shoulder, carefully carrying a handful of freshly washed glasses.

“Need a hand, sweetheart?” he asked, walking straight to you.

The room went silent as the squad watched him press a kiss to your temple before helping you dry the dishes.

Phoenix broke the silence first. “Holy shit. He’s a househusband.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Jake looked over his shoulder with a smirk. “Jealous?”

“Absolutely,” Natasha said, grinning.

As the laughter died down, Javy raised his beer. “To Y/N,” he said.

You looked up, surprised. “To me?”

Javy nodded. “Yeah. You turned Hangman into Jake. And we love you for it.”

The squad cheered, and as Jake’s hand found yours, you squeezed it, your heart full.

Because while Jake might not have always been the loudest about his love, the people who mattered most could see it clear as day.

[dr-mei-b]

Sweet Surrender

Summary: Jake’s given and taken orders a hundred times throughout his career but nothing compares to the moment he realizes you liked it.  Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x F!Reader Word Count: 2.1K Rating: 18+ only. Sexual content. Authority and sir kink, praise kink and Hangman being a cocky asshole. A/N: Thank you @wildbornsiren and @whatblogisthis216 for beta'ing and @blue-aconite for the beautiful graphic. In the future I may write part 2 if my muses cooperate. Reblogs and comments feed the muse.

Masterlist ♡ Top Gun Masterlist

Jake doesn’t pay much attention when you’re first introduced with the rest of the eggheads from the Office of Naval Research. Another one of many civilian engineers working on the new plane he’s been assigned to test. You keep things professional and polite although he can tell you find him attractive. It’s written all over your face and demeanor. You’re not the only one, several of the other engineers can’t seem to string together a full sentence around him. 

You’re pretty, he can admit that much to himself, but a sweet face has never been enough on its own to hold his interest. Especially when he’s here to do a job, one he takes very seriously. The chance to be the first to fly the latest prototype jet isn’t an opportunity that comes up often. He volunteered immediately for the assignment when it came up, beating out most of his Top Gun class for the honor.

What he doesn’t bank on is having to sit through mind numbingly boring briefings and listen to the engineers argue anytime the tiniest adjustment is made. Most of his exposure to you is during these meetings but the first time you talk to him one on one is four weeks into the project.

That’s when he notices your particular….quirk. You’re following him out after the morning briefing, yammering away about the new wing design specs. He’s read your report in detail and already familiarized himself with the changes. 

All Jake wants is a moment of silence to mentally prepare himself for today's test but you keep talking. It doesn’t help that he’s got the beginning of a headache forming behind his eyes and you’re oblivious to his attempts to cut the conversation short.  

“I got it. I know how to fly a plane,” he tells you. 

“Lieutenant Seresin,” you start but he cuts you off with a look. 

“I’ve read your briefing packet, top to bottom. It was extremely thorough. If I have questions you’ll be the first person I ask. Scout’s honor,” he adds, giving you a sloppy half salute that seems to confuse you for a moment before you start talking again. 

“I just want to make sure-“ you begin and Jake sighs, annoyed.

“I got it.  Now go sit down,” he tells you curtly. 

You step back back, brows raised. Jake almost misses the way your pupils dilate and your lips part just so. 

"I'm sorry, Sir," you reply. "I..."You stammer and tug at the hem of your shirt before hurrying to take a seat. 

You watch him from behind the computer bank as he climbs into the cockpit and fiddles with the controls. He can feel you watching him as he puts his helmet on. It’s clear to him that you want his approval, even if you don’t realize it.

Fuck, that paired with the ‘sir’ and the delicious little waver in your voice spikes his interest. He waits until you’re practically squirming in your chair before he gives you a nod. Your response is immediate, shoulders dropping and the tense lines on your face easing. 

It’s not just that he makes you nervous, he’s seen that plenty of times before. No, this is different. Special. You liked it when he barked an order at you. 

–

Over the next few weeks, he watches you closely, taking note of your responses to everyone you interact with. It’s clear you crave praise from others, perking up under any compliment you receive and deflating under criticism. However, it’s your response to authority that interests him most. You’ve got a natural inclination to listen to orders but as far as Jake can tell he’s the only one who elicits that type of reaction from you.

Each encounter he has with you is a chance to test the theory he has. He catalogs the difference in your responses; when he’s softer in his requests versus an outright order. Jake sees how quickly you obey a demand to sit next to him at the next briefing, just so he can be close to you. The speed you produce a new report just for him is a powerful thing. He especially loves the way you blossom under his praise when he compliments changes you've made to improve performance.

You’re smart, undeterred when the men in the room try to speak over you. Even though you’re quiet-natured, you’re no pushover either.  He respects your determination and hard work.

The most telling moment is one afternoon when you’re loitering on the edge of the hanger as he finishes up his conversation with the flight chief. It’s clear you need to speak to him. The fact that you won’t interrupt him is just a bonus– something he knows from experience will translate well in the bedroom. 

“Come here,” he commands, crooking a finger at you. He doesn’t even have to raise his voice to have you scurrying to him. You touch your chest and fiddle with the locket you wear, twisting the thin gold chair around your index finger. Jake’s not sure if he’s just gotten better at clocking your reactions or you’re extra affected today but whatever the reason, he’s enjoying the show. 

“What do you need?” He asks. 

“For you to sign the report,” you tell him, opening the folder and pointing to the highlighted portion. 

When he takes the pen from you he makes sure to drag his fingertips over the back of your hand, watching for your reaction behind his aviators. The soft sound that passes your lips doesn't disappoint him. He thinks about what other sounds he could drag out of you. How he could get you desperate enough to beg him to fuck you. The way you’d sigh his name and -

“Sir?” Your soft voice snaps him out of his little daydream. You’re staring up at him expectantly. “I need my pen back, please.”

When he hands it back, you smile. It makes him long to pull you against him and kiss you breathless. To test out the limits of how well you’d listen to him but he knows he has to wait until the project is over. He’s not about to jeopardize either of your careers though as the weeks drag on he certainly finds himself fantasizing about that. 

You’ve caught him staring at during the morning briefings once or twice, his chin resting on steepled fingers. It’s always the same response from you, the double blink and glance away. Sometimes you’ll bite your lips and fiddle with the pencil, tapping it in rapid succession against the table. He can feel your eyes on him too and he has to repress a smirk. These morning briefings are starting to become his favorite part of the day. 

—

Two torturous months pass before the admiral visits and the project gets wrapped up. He has some innocent fun with you during that time, nothing overly mean, just enough to get you flustered and stoke the flame. His favorite form of foreplay.

The team celebrates at the Hard Deck. Alcohol flows freely and spirits are high. It turns out engineers partied harder than pilots. You only have a drink which bodes well for Jake. He needs you sober for this and wants a clear head of his own, nursing a single beer most of the night.

While he waits for an opportunity to get you alone he formulates how he wants to approach this. He doesn’t doubt his assessment. He’s rarely wrong about these things but it’s always possible you’re not completely aware of your quirk. If he embarrassed or frightened you all his waiting would be for nothing. 

After another hour or so he senses his chance. You head outside to take a quick call and Jake follows. He waits at a safe distance to give you some privacy but once you slide the phone back into your jacket he makes his presence known. 

“Lieutenant Seresin,” you greet. You look surprised to see him but pleased too. 

“It’s Jake,” he corrects, stepping toward you. 

When he presses into your space you take a half step back and then another, letting him herd you into a little alcove out of sight. You watch him curiously, maybe even a little confused. You’re not scared to be alone with him —you trust him.  

“What’s up?” You’re trying for casual but failing adorably. 

Jake’s close enough to touch you, but refrains from it. He won’t until he has your permission and understanding. He smirks and tits his head. A direct approach might be quicker but he’s curious if you’ll figure it out on your own.

 “I know your secret, sweetheart,” he whispers. 

That gets you going. You don’t seem to know where to put your hands. Nervous laughter comes next but Jake stays quiet, letting you squirm a little longer. 

“My secret?” You question. 

“It’s compatible with mine,” he hints. 

You frown, forehead wrinkling. He recognizes the expression from countless morning briefings when you were contemplating a problem. It’s cute watching your brain work in real-time to put the pieces together.  A full minute passes before your eyes dart back to his face, surprised.

He nods encouragingly and then very hesitantly you say, “Is that so, sir?”

There’s a heavy emphasis on the last word. 

“Smart girl,” he praises. 

You grin and rock back on your heels. “Well, I did design the aircraft you’ve been flying the last four months,” you shoot back. 

He can see the struggle it is for you not to smile. You’re proud of your work and should be but he can’t have you mouthing off already. 

“Don’t get smart with me,” he warns playfully, loving the way you immediately duck your head. 

“Sorry, sir.” 

You sound appropriately contrite and he smirks. 

“Look at me.” Two fingers under your chin encourage you to meet his gaze. “I want you to be honest,” he begins, watching carefully for any sign you’re not on the same page as him. “Do you want to do this?”

“Do you mean…you mean sex, right?” You ask, looking a little unsure. 

You’re so sweet that Jake slips character briefly to give you the soft smile you deserve. “Sex and more,” he confirms. “I can help you explore this side of yourself.”

“Yeah. I want that,” you tell him shyly. 

“That’s good to hear, but that’s not how you talk to me, and I think you know it.”

“I want you to teach me, sir,” you respond. 

“Better,” he praises.

He slides a hand up your jaw to grasp the back of your neck and angle your face upward so he can crush his lips against yours. He closes the distance between your bodies, pressing you back into the wall with a groan. You make a desperate little sound that goes right to his dick and grasp his biceps tightly. 

You part your lips and fuck, he’s finally tasting you fully like he’s been imagining. He loves how soft and warm you are in his arms and the way his lips slide against yours. All of his pent-up desire is out now. The hand at your hip slides down the curve of your ass to grasp your thigh so he can grind shamelessly against you. You whimper, nails pressing into his skin. He rocks his half-hard cock into the warmest part of you, needing more friction. He wants to hear you make that little sound again too. 

“Oh, please,” you gasp when you finally part. 

You sound wrecked and he thinks you look it too.The skin of your face is warm to the touch and your eyes are a little glassy. Jake's half convinced you might let him have you here and for a moment he actually considers it. He knows how good that kind of messy, quick fuck can be but tonight he wants to see all of you. To spend his time taking you apart until you’re incoherent and at his mercy. He can’t do that here. 

“Easy,” Jake whispers, running a hand down your back. “Look at me,” he instructs, smiling when you do. You’re trembling all over and he rubs his thumb over your swollen lips as he gazes down at you. “Catch your breath.”

Once you’re calm he lets go of you and runs a hand through his hair. You’re watching him, waiting to be told what to do. “Go inside, say goodbye to your friends. Then I want you to meet me out front. Got it?”

You nod and he surges forward to kiss you one more time before stepping back to let you past him. 

Fuck, tonight is going to be good he thought. 

♡

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[dr-mei-b]

Why is this the greatest thing I’ve ever read. Literally everything you write is the best 😭😭

i know you want it, do-si-don’tcha (hangman x reader)

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.

[dr-mei-b]

This is this most Hangman coded thing I have ever seen in my life ☠️😂

[dr-mei-b]

I’m dead, I literally *just* sketched out this scene for my fic lol. Running into my OC’s asshole ex at a mutual friend’s wedding.

OC: “Oh, um, this is Jake. He’s my-”

Jake: “Lover. Servant. Eternal devotee. The mortal man lucky enough to be graced with the presence of this goddess. And you must be Robert.”

Richard: “Richard.”

Jake: “Right, well I’ve heard a lot about you, Ronald.”

Richard: “It’s Richard.”

Jake: “Sorry, sorry. She’s just so damn beautiful, I lose my wits sometimes. Anyways, you look good Ricky. The blue in that tie really brings out the narcissism and soullessness in your eyes.”

Richard: “Excuse me? I-”

Jake: “Anyways, we have to head out, but it was nice to meet you, Dick. Hope you choke on that cake.”

Haha!

We must be on the same wave length, I am working a similar story with Escort!Jake where he gets the reader's ex's name wrong on purpose too!

So happy you're back to writing.

[dr-mei-b]

This is Hangman in 30 years, and you can’t convince me otherwise.

[dr-mei-b]

top gun silliness

[dr-mei-b]

“you’re a writer, right?”

me, staring at the one sentence i’ve managed to add in the last hour and the 12 open tabs on the specifics of shoes in 1845 Ireland: In theory.