#bold pilot

[kamil-a]

(relistening to a s2 ep) more attention on how sayer cannot see but takes in visual data by being informed of it. "i can see that you are 5"2 with brown eyes and a dark complexion" like presumably thats in her file and so it knows her eyes are brown. so it "sees" brown. if you upload a jpeg to it it can identify the picture probably because it reads the knowledge of whats in the picture. at that point is there even any difference. if you upload an image of a color and say can you reproduce the hex code i bet it could. and yet it doesnt "see". and does it need to?

[theradioghost]

inexpressible joy of discovering that they sell ink refills for your favorite pens

[angelic-blurryface]

tw for uh. blood and getting stabbed and gore and blood. sorry to um everyone 😔🤲<3

[shujidun]

like okayyy boyfriends!!!

josh tattooing tyler’s thigh (source)

[clancy-in-trench]

I'm laughing at myself cause before the album dropped I prepared a memo then looked at it after and

It's fucking empty

[fatmaclover]

i promise ill watch more mythic quest tonight i just am so sick at the thought that i could see even more of myself in ian. he makes me sick. after sitting with myself ive decided i hate how much we r alike. i cant help but love him for it but god i despise him

[random-racehorses]

Random Real Thoroughbred: OLD BOLD PILOT

OLD BOLD PILOT is a chesnut horse born in The United States in 1970. By CALL TO COMBAT out of LABIO. Link to their pedigreequery page: https://www.pedigreequery.com/old+bold+pilot

[suzannahnatters]

Last night I remembered another of my favourite Tolkien wifeguy facts.

So in Western mythology we've often personified the Sun as masculine and the Moon as feminine. Off the top of my head: The Sun is associated with purity, reason, scholarship, illumination, constancy, dragons, gold, and masculinity. On the other hand, the Moon is associated with darkness, silver, impurity, flux, change, uncertainty, fickleness, and femininity.

You can see all this imagery being adopted, eg, in the Mozart opera THE MAGIC FLUTE, in which a benevolent scholar wizard (with solar imagery). straight up kidnaps the daughter of the evil, passionate Queen of the Night so that she can be properly educated in Enlightenment rationalism, purged of all those icky feminine night/lunar influences, and turned into a good submissive little wife for the scholar's young disciple. Guys the music slaps but the story is SO gross and misogynistic.

Anyway, what does this have to do with Tolkien? I'M SO GLAD YOU ASKED.

In Middle-Earth, Tolkien does a GENDERSWAPPED Sun and Moon. The Sun is She, the Moon is He. And, like, it's not that he just thought "oh how can I make this mythology Different" - he really thought this through. In THE SILMARILLION, Tolkien tells us that the Sun and Moon are two vessels made from the last flower of Telperion and the last fruit of Laurelin, the Two Trees which once gave light to Valinor. Two Maiar were chosen to pilot these vessels. The pilot of the moon is Tilion, a hunter of Orome, and the pilot of the sun is Arien: "Arien the maiden was mightier than he", a spirit of fire whom I strongly suspect to be an unfallen Balrog.

Now, just as in our world, the Moon in Middle Earth has a reputation for waywardness and unreliability. Because, get this, apparently Tilion falls in love with Arien: "But Tilion was wayward and uncertain in speed, and held not to his appointed path; and he sought to come near to Arien, being drawn by her splendour, though the flame of Arien scorched him, and the island of the Moon was darkened."

And I just. Here's Tolkien, standing up in the face of centuries of unveiled misogynistic symbolism and saying, "oh, we've got two celestial entities, one of which is powerful and bold and glorious, and the other famous for being kind of lame in comparison? SOUNDS TO ME LIKE A SWAGLESS LOVER BOY ABANDONING HIS DUTIES TO WORSHIP HIS GODDESS. I MEAN OBVIOUSLY. WHAT ELSE COULD THE EXPLANATION BE"

[clonecaptains]

too good to be true

a jake ‘hangman’ seresin x shy!reader fic

warnings: alcohol mention; self confidence issue mention; slight innuendo if you squint; she/her pronouns used; no use of y/n

word count: 2.6k

summary: a handsome pilot has been making eyes at you all night - and you can't even begin to wrap your head around it. you wouldn't know what to say - but you better make it quick - he's on his way over!

a/n: thank you for the love on my previous fic! hope yall enjoy this one! jake's been living rent free in my head!

You didn’t want to go, but you couldn’t say no to your friend. She needed your support on this one. It’s her cousins’ birthday. Her cousin that she has a very strained relationship with. She hopes coming to this party at the Hard Deck might be a sign of good faith. You weren’t holding your breath; you didn’t exactly care for her cousin either. Another reason you didn’t want to go.

The good thing about this though – besides getting to spend time with a good friend – was admiring the view. The Hard Deck is a Navy bar. It’s full of naval officers and aviators, especially on the weekends.

80’s classic rock plays overhead and as the night goes on you decide you’re glad you came after all. The dimly lit atmosphere is comfortable, full of earth tones and Navy memorabilia. You and your friend quietly watch, from a distance, a handful of pilots playing pool. There’s one in particular that catches your attention. All the pilots in the place look handsome – you think that must be a requirement for joining the Navy. But this one – the tall blond one – stands out.

You made eye contact once, and quickly shifted your gaze. You saw him smirk a little and that sent butterflies into your tummy. You meekly sip your drink and dare to look back at him. You watch him walk around the pool table, looking for his next shot to take. He’s deliberate in all his actions. Confidence is in his movements as he lines up his shot. His gaze flicks up to you and gives you a little wink – making his shot without looking at the table.

Your friend elbows you in the side giggling, “He’s totally into you!”

“You think so?” you feel your face warm and take another drink to diffuse the tension. “He can’t be,” you shrug her off.

“No, I really think he is,” she squeals. “He’s coming over here.”

Your heart stops when you look over at him again. His eyes are on you as he hands his pool cue to his friend. The motion is swift and precise. Something about him not looking to pass it over while he looked at you sent electricity down to your toes.

“What do I do?” you hiss to your friend, watching him walk towards you. His smile grows and you couldn’t help but match it.

“Hi ladies,” that perfect smile is thick on his voice when he reaches your group. The birthday girl makes her way over to him. She’s quick to make her presence known. It burns you inside watching her. You admit you’re jealous of her boldness, and how she makes heads turn. That’s never been you.

“What can we do for you sir? Did you come over to wish me Happy Birthday?” she asks him, batting her eyelashes and touching his bicep.

You can’t watch her flirt with him, knowing that she can have whoever she wants in this place. You were silly to think he was interested in you. Makes the quick moment of butterflies turn into a pang of disappointment in your stomach. You take another sip of your drink and try to tune her out. Staring at the damp ring left on the table from your drink doesn’t help quite like you wish it would. You look up to see him give her a good-natured smile.

Then his eyes cut over to you while he answers her question. “Actually, I came to talk to that one-“ and he points to you.

“Me?” you look around as if he were somehow pointing to someone else.

“Yes ma’am,” he smiles and walks closer to where you’re sitting. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Your friend all but pushes you out of your seat to go towards him. And when you step forward, you get a good strong whiff of his cologne.

“Hi,” he smiles. You smile sheepishly at him. You know the other girls are watching every moment of this, but you don’t notice them at all. The room could be on fire, and you wouldn’t know. Though the heat from his gaze is so hot you think the room might actually be on fire. “Can I buy you a drink?” he asks again when you don’t answer.

You’re gawking. You didn’t mean to but he’s so handsome, especially up close. The “yeah!” that comes out of your mouth is very eager and you want to bury your head in the sand outside the bar. But he seems to love watching you get flustered.

He offers you his arm and your face warms putting your hand in the crook of his elbow. Your fingers touch the warm, taut skin over his bicep, and you can’t believe this is happening right now.

“Happy Birthday,” he tells the birthday girl again brushing past her. You wanted to turn around so badly to see the look on her face, but you were focusing too hard on not tripping over your own feet.

The handsome pilot guides you towards the bar asking, “what are you drinking?” His eyes flick down to your hand still clinging to his bicep. Maybe it’s just your imagination that he flexes it for you before you shyly let go. Your cheeks warm telling him your drink order. His face is so close, and you’re hypnotized. His eyes on you sends a thrill to your heart and anxiety to your stomach. His mouth is so sexy you can’t help but linger on it. You panic knowing you aren’t subtle, and he can see you looking at his mouth.

Doesn’t seem to stop his smile from growing.

He knows.

He repeats your drink order to the bartender, and you feel a lurch in your stomach. The bar seems louder than before, and you feel a little clammy. He turns from ordering and puts his hand on your lower back.

“What’s your name darlin’?” he asks with a gentle smile. You barely hear or register his question because you tell him at the same time you need to use the ladies room. His smile is easy, despite the look of concern in his eyes. Do you really look that nervous?

Your dash to the bathroom is a blur. Passing rowdy patrons and feeling like you might lose the contents of your stomach right there on the bar floor.

Making a beeline for the sink once you’re in the bathroom, you grab some paper towels. Wetting them you pat your face and the back of your neck. You feel silly, but this has never happened to you before. No one like him has given you the looks he’s giving you. You know you could tell him you’re a little nervous, but what if he only likes really confident women? What if that’s a turn off? What if he expects you to put out? That makes you panic even more. How do you tell him you don’t do this kind of thing? Even the thought of kissing him makes your head spin.

Then you look in the mirror. You notice every flaw and your self confidence that was pretty high a minute ago plummets. You can’t go back out there to him.

So, you don’t. Tears stain your cheeks as you duck out of the bar without a word to him. Your heart is pounding as you leave, and you already feel regret. But your anxiety is winning. You can’t go back in there NOW after it’s been so long and you’re crying.

You don’t even tell your friend that you leave until you are at home. You know she would make you go back in there and talk to the hottest guy in there. The one who wanted to buy you a drink.

The one that you don’t even know his name.

You start to cry harder. What if you never see him again? Maybe that would be better? You feel bad for leaving so quickly without telling him. And you don’t know if you could face him again.

So, you text your friend through your very conflicted emotional tears. Her answer is full of typos and doesn’t make much sense. She’s drunk. You’ll talk to her about this tomorrow.

You get ready for bed, and you don’t even know what you’re doing. You’re on autopilot. Pilot. Oh yeah. Pilot. You scream into your pillow and cry until you give yourself a headache. Maybe you’re being ridiculous. Maybe you should have just accepted that he did want to talk to you instead of letting your own self doubt get in the way. And then you ruined it. You left that no name handsome pilot standing there with your drink wondering where you went. Thinking he did something wrong.

That’s when you decide you’ll go to the bar again tomorrow night. He’s got to be in there on a Saturday, right?

You barely sleep, and the whole rest of the day your stomach is in knots. The only question on your mind is what if he’s not there? What if he’s not there and you ruined your chance. You’re not sure if he’s looking for a relationship or a hook-up. But you’d like to find out! What if he is someone you start to date? That’s how people meet right?

You think about his mouth again. His handsome smile. The shape of his mouth. How badly you wonder what it’s like to kiss those lips. He’s gotta be a good kisser.

Most of your day is spent agonizing over these questions. You talk to your friend a LOT about this. She comes over and helps you pick out an outfit and she agrees to go with you tonight. That way you won’t have to go alone, and she can hype you up.

Thrill and panic are fighting a war in your belly. Your heart has been racing. Ice is pumping into your veins while you get ready. You’re wearing a simple black dress – it’s the most flattering to your figure. And you spend longer than you think you ever have on your makeup and hair.

“You’re gonna knock him off his feet when you show up looking like that to apologize,” your friend smiles looking at you over your shoulder in the mirror. It’s only right then before you’re about to head out the door that you don’t even know what you’re going to say to him.

You don’t live far from the bar, and you’d rather just go on ahead than sit at home to wait even more.

Music and the sound of patrons talking and laughing inside spills outside. There’s a breeze blowing on you before you walk in and you’re grateful for the fresh air before stepping through the entrance.

The place is busy tonight as you expected, but it doesn’t take you long to spot him. He’s by his buddies at the dartboard. He must have scored because he gives his buddy a high five and a couple other guys cheer.

“There he is come on,” your friend grabs your elbow and tugs you in his direction. Your knees shake and your heart is pounding. What are you going to say? You have about 30 seconds to figure it out.

With your heart in your throat, you step closer, he still hasn’t seen you. But one of his buddies does.

“Hangman,” one of them hits your handsome stranger on the arm and nods in your direction. He turns to look over his shoulder and when he realizes it’s you – that big grin splits his face. He turns further and steps closer into your space.

“Left me hangin’ last night,” he comments taking a sip of his beer. Someone behind him chuckles at the pun from his callsign.

“I’m sorry about that. I panicked. You make me so nervous,” you’re saying all this before your brain can catch up. You faintly heard one of the guys make a little “oooOOooOO” noise, and Hangman smacks his friend on the chest with the back of his hand. You don’t miss the look of pride in Hangman’s eyes at your comment despite him not wanting his friends to tease you.

“Me?” he teases playfully and gets even closer. You can smell the mint on his breath from the gum in his mouth. “Come on,” he clicks his tongue a little and nods his head in a direction away from the guys.

He puts his hand on your lower back – last night it sent you into a panic – but this time you let him. You like how it feels. His touch is very light, and he gently guides you to a quieter corner of the bar.

“I really am sorry,” you start back up again. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and-“

His eyebrows raise, he wants you to finish what you were going to say. He enjoys the flustered look on your face and the way your pupils dilate before he gives you relief.

“I know, your friend told me. Showed me your texts. Particularly liked the one about how I was the ‘most handsome man you’d ever seen.’” He gives you a little wink.

You weren’t sure if you were going to kill your friend or if you owed her your life now.

Then he said your name, you can only assume he saw on the text messages from last night. “I didn’t mean to make you nervous, even though it’s cute as hell.”

“I was just surprised that you came up to me. You could have anyone you want in here.” You motion with your hand around the place.

“Maybe I don’t just want anyone. I wanted the adorable girl who checked me out all night and was too shy to come say anything. Got in my head, made me damn crazy.”

“Really?” you whisper smiling up at him.

“Adorable,” he smiles.

“I thought about you all night when I left. I was so mad at myself, but I didn’t know what to say.”

“All night?” he smirks and your face warms. You might be embarrassed as his insinuations if you didn’t love how much he was looking at you. “I thought about you too.” He takes a swig of his beer, and now you really feel your skin get hot wondering if he means what you think he does.

“I was worried I startled you. Then your friend showed me what you said. I don’t think she was fully aware of what she was doing,” he laughs, “she told me all of it before I could say a word. But I’m glad she told me to come back tonight.”

“I’m glad too,” you smile reach up to fiddle with his uniform shirt sleeve. “Did she really show you all of them though?” you whine a little. “Even the kiss one?”

“Even the kiss one,” he confirms with another dangerous smirk. He puts his hand on the wall behind you, effectively trapping you between the wall behind you and the wall of muscle in front of you.

“Something about wanting to kiss this sexy mouth?” he teases. You hang your head with an exasperated groan. “Hey,” he lifts your chin with his finger. “I’ll kiss you,” he’s whispering now. His lips are so close to yours and you couldn’t form a coherent thought if you tried. All you know is how good he smells and how loud your heart is pounding in your ears.

“If?” you whisper back – your mouths almost touching.

 “If you agree to go out on a date with me tomorrow,” His grin is so sly, and you are enjoying every moment.

“Yes,” your whisper is barely audible, but it’s enough.

Enough for him to close the very small gap between your lips. His hand cradling the back of your head now holding you to him. You whimper in his mouth and when he pulls back you gasp softly.

“I don’t even know your name,” you smile up at him.

“Jake,” he whispers against your lips before kissing you again.

[mcgregor]

"This is Anakin Skywalker: The most powerful Jedi of his generation. Perhaps of any generation. The fastest. The strongest. An unbeatable pilot. An unstoppable warrior. On the ground, in the air or sea or space, there is no one even close. He has not just power, not just skill, but dash: that rare, invaluable combination of boldness and grace.” ― Matthew Stover, Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Hangman Trying To Convince You To Go Out With Him

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Beer, flirtations, and teasing

Word Count: 1.4k

(A/N:) Wow! Look at me having a Top Gun idea in what seems like forever! I always love going back to movies I wrote so much for! But sometimes it takes a hot minute to get imagine ideas, but I had this idea a few weeks ago and it's been a little bit of a pain to get it from my brain into a post. But I finally succeeded and hopefully this makes the Hangman/ Glen Powell fangirlies happy! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Taglist: @chaoticcassidy, @the-marshals-wife, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

The Hard Deck was more rowdy than it had been in awhile. With the Top Gun pilots celebrating a hard won victory, them and everyone on base had came in to celebrate. It was busy enough that Penny called in backup to help serve the rambunctious pilots who deserved every drink they ordered. It wasn't often that she called you in, but when Penny did you knew that the night was going to be a crazy one. You had a reputation amongst the pilots, as being no nonsense and out right refusing any advances towards you before the navy men even finished a sentence. While the rumors kept the majority of would be suitors away, it only made the top pilots in Top Gun more bold.

With drink orders coming in so fast that you were barely able to keep up with them. Penny stayed close by picking up the orders you couldn't handle and ringing up tabs. You didn't pay much attention to the people that came to the counter until a familiar uniform caught your eye.

"Give me just a second and I'll be right with you," you handed off two beer bottles before setting into opening several more.

"I'll wait all night for you if that's what it takes," the pilot replied.

You stiffened, recognizing that voice. He was a notorious flirt and never knew when to take no for an answer. It wasn't your first time dealing with him and this moment would not be the last either. No matter how many times you shot him down he always kept coming back, always cocky and sure of himself.

A few moments ago...

Hangman didn't know the definition of the word defeat and he had his eye on the prize. And that was taking out the most difficult female bartender in the Hard Deck's lineup.

"Dude," Coyote tugged on Hangman's arm stopping the pilot in his tracks. "When are you going to give up? She's shot down more pilots than Maverick has and Rooster crashed and burned just last night with her."

"That's Rooster," Hangman scoffed. "I'm different."

"No you're not. What is this the third time you've tried?"

"Fourth."

Coyote rolled his eyes but watched Hangman walk away.

Now....

"Oh great," you sighed, "it's you again."

Hangman chuckled leaning against the counter, trying to get as close as possible. You took a step back, removing the last bottle cap a little violently and passing the drinks out. Grabbing more you glared at him sending a cap flying in his direction.

"Aren't you glad to see me," Hangman asked.

"Not particularly. I don't have time for you."

"And here I thought that the whole world had time for me," he smirked.

Rolling your eyes you turned away, another group of people calling for your attention. But still though you had walked away, Hangman stayed. His eyes never leaving you, watching you closely. You tried ignoring him, but when that didn't work, you glared. That only made his grin widen and he gave you a little wave. You slammed glasses down a little harder than necessary as your patience was wearing thin.

"Why do we have to do this every time?"

"Because," Hangman purred, "I don't like taking no for an answer."

"I noticed."

Watching you intensely while you grabbed another bottle of beer, you removed the cap and took Hangman's hand. His fingers immediately curled around yours and you slapped them back open, causing him to jolt before you placed the cold glass bottle in his palm, then wrapped his fingers around it and waved your hand in a 'shoo' motion. Digging some money from your tip jar, you put the cash into the register, 'Shoo. It's on me. Have a nice life Bagman."

Hangman laughed, defeated once more but not done in the slightest as he made his way back to the pilots crowding into one corner of the bar. Laughing at him and pointing fingers in his direction. What they didn't know was he was wounded, but not crashing and burning just yet. He saw that glint in your eyes and he had to sink the hook in a little more and he would have you.

Hours later and Penny flipped the sign and locked the door. You were finishing cleaning up the last bit of the bar when a check was waved in front of your face.

"Thank you so much for coming in and helping out," she said taking a seat.

"No problem," you replied putting the check in your pocket.

"I see Hangman has taken quite a liking to you," she grinned mischeviously.

"Ugh," you rolled your eyes, "don't remind me."

"He's not a bad guy."

"Sure if you like egotistical pilot maniacs. He's very obnoxious."

"Isn't that what makes him charming?"

"Absolutely not!"

Penny laughed before taking the rag from your hands, "Go on and go home. It's getting late."

"Let me know whenever you need help again."

Penny waved and you made sure to lock the door behind you. She wasn't lying that it was getting late as the sun had long ago set and quiet had settled over the beach. It was always a little creepy, especially the walk to your car. Normally you weren't scared but it was just a little off putting when no one was around and anything could happen.

"Leaving already?"

A voice sounded close by your shoulder causing you to jump and spin around. Hangman started to laugh at your startled expression, causing you to start punching him in the shoulder.

"Don't do that to me!"

"I was hoping you'd jump into my arms instead, I wasn't taking into account that you're a fighter. Can you please stop hitting me now?"

"Depends," you were fuming, "are you ready to stop being a jerk?!"

"Not particularly."

"Then I'm not done beating you yet!"

He let you get in a few more whacks before grabbing your fist and keeping a firm grip on it. You sucked in a breath, gaze flickering from his face to your joined hands back again to his face. He never stopped smiling.

"C'mon let me walk you to your car," Hangman cut the silence. The tension eased from your body and you tried yanking your hand away, only for him to tighten his grip. You huffed but relented, though you did start to protest when he intertwined your fingers together.

You could admit to yourself, that you did feel better that you weren't walking alone in the dark. Hangman had been waiting, not wanting to give up just yet as he really did like you. He just enjoyed aggravating you because you were so easily riled up.

"If you felt uncomfortable walking alone you could have said something to me," he mumbled rubbing at his neck.

"I appreciate it," you looked away squeezing his hand. "Maybe you aren't that major of an egotistical jerk."

Hangman laughed, releasing your hand so you can grab your car keys. "That makes me feel better then."

You unlocked the door and he opened the driver side door before you could even reach for the handle. Ushering you in he closed the door, letting you get buckled before leaning against the door. You rolled the window down and he stuck his head in.

"Thank you," you picked at the threads on the steering wheel.

"You're welcome," he tapped his fingers against your arm. "Does this mean that I'm growing on you?"

"Possibly."

"Think you could stomach a date with me?"

"I'll think about it."

"A kiss for your knight in a pilot uniform," he pointed to his lips.

"Absolutely not," you laughed rolling the window up causing him to hurry up and yank his head out. You backed up leaving Hangman in the headlights as he waved at you. For such a smug Top Gun pilot he could actually be really sweet. He wouldn't give up and you could respect that so for the first time you broke down.

Quickly rolling the window back down as you drove away you yelled out the window.

"Hey Bagman! Pick me up here tomorrow evening and buy me dinner!"

He laughed loudly, "It's a date!"

"Sure it is!"

You drove off, leaving an extremely happy pilot behind.

[shockercoco]

Whiskey

Major John Egan x reader

Warnings - few swear words, flirting, alcohol

Word count - 1418

a/n - it's been sooo long, mainly because I've been focused on doing applications to transfer colleges. I also didn't know who to write about for a while after farleigh, lol. I hope you enjoy :)

“How much longer are you going to be back there?” your friend groans from the other side of the bar. The bar staff requested extra hands since a large number of pilots and crew had arrived, and for some reason you volunteered to help out. 

“I have another hour left, and then I’m finished,” you say as you hand the guy next to her his drink. She just groans in response. “Plus, you said you were planning on ditching me and finding someone to entertain you for the night.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same when I’m doing it alone.”

“You do realize I’m not the only person you know here, right?” You tell her as another uniformed man walks up to the bar.

“Can I get a round of whiskeys and a ginger beer, please?” the man asks before your friend could answer. You nod and get started on his order.

“Ginger beer?” you hear your friend ask in a judgemental yet light tone.

“Don’t worry it’s not for me,” the man lets out a small laugh. You hand him his drinks on a tray, and he thanks you before walking away.

“You may not be the only person I know, but you're the only one I really like. But I’ll leave you alone to do your job and make my way to where that man just went,” your friend nudges her head in his direction. After following him with your eyes you give her a ‘really’ look once you spot the table and she gives you an innocent shrug in return.

The table is surrounded by nothing but higher ups. It also happens to include the inseparable best friends Major John “Bucky” Egan and Major Gale “Buck” Cleven.

“Maybe once you get Major Egan you’ll be able to put in a good word for me with Major Cleven, or if I get to Cleven first, I could put in a good word for you. We could do the whole double date thing. Their names have a nice ring to it don’t you think?” 

“Lower your voice,” you shush her as you glance around for any listening ears. All of the men in the bar know one another in some way, and word travels fast.

“What? You’ve had a crush on the guy for the longest time, and you do nothing about it every time he flies in,” she tells you. “If you ask him out and he turns you down, it's not like you have to see him for long.”

“I’m sorry, have you met me? What makes you think I would ever go up to a guy and ask him out?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I guess I’ll just have to be bold for the both of us. Can I get a shot before I go, I’m going to need some liquid courage to take these men on.”

“Take your shot and go,” you say as you wave her off with your hand after placing her shot down in front of her. She takes her shot and wanders off, but not before giving you a smirk. You just playfully roll your eyes in return.

You don’t realize how much time goes by with the constant swarm of men coming up to the bar, but when you decide to look up at the clock on the wall you notice you only have ten minutes left until you're free. It has pretty much slowed down given the fact that most of the men were already drunk out of their minds, but the room was far from quiet.

“Next time it’ll be me who knocks his ass out,” you hear a voice say as they come up to the bar you currently had your back to.

You turn around confused, planning to question the person, but you freeze a little once you notice Major Eagan infront of you. You feel yourself panic a little given the fact that this is the closest you’ve ever been to him. He must see your confused expression though because he begins to explain himself.

“Sorry not you, I was talking to one of my buddies. He knocked some brit out on the first punch,” he says, but not before quickly adding, “It was well deserved though, the man was a prick.”

You just nod in response, not knowing what to say to that other than, “Can I get you anything, Major?”

“Yes, whiskey please,” he smiles as he leans his uniform covered arms on the bar top.

“You wouldn’t happen to belong to the table that requested all those whiskeys tonight would you?” you ask as you turn around to grab a bottle and glass. You also try to keep your hands steady and your face as neutral as possible.

“Guilty,” he lets out a small laugh as you set his drink in front of him. He doesn’t reach out to touch it, but keeps those blue eyes of his on you. “Got a problem with whiskey?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Because I could’ve sworn you made a face when I said it,” he tells you, but there’s no attitude behind it. Good observation skills on his part, bad concealing skills on your part. He is a soldier after all.

“Oh, you caught that,” you let out a little laugh as you try to busy yourself with something behind the bar. As much as you would like to keep talking to him – because you would most likely never get the chance again – you kind of wish he would walk away so you could control your sweating. Your friend would probably slap you if you turned this interaction down though.

“Yeah, is there a story behind it or you just don’t like whiskey?” 

“I just don’t like it,” you say, and it’s true. You feel it’s way too strong, especially to be drinking so casually.

“You have one of the best whiskeys sitting on that shelf behind you, and you're telling me you don’t like it?” you’re not looking at him, but you can hear a playful tone in his voice. If only your friend could see you now, wherever she is.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Uh huh,” he replies in a tone that tells you he doesn’t believe you. “When are you able to leave from behind there?” he motions to you behind the bar. 

You take a glance up at the clock at the wall and notice you’re not supposed to leave for another three�� minutes. But, then again, a cute guy is standing across from you so who cares?

“Now actually,” you respond.

“Well then pour yourself a glass, and I’ll drink it with you,” he tells you, and you feel your stomach flutter. It also could be that you’re nauseous from being so nervous.

“This sounds an awful lot like peer pressure,” you joke and he lets out a laugh. 

You do as he says and pour yourself a glass because what the hell. He raises his up as a form of cheers, and you do the same before you both tilt your heads back and drink. You pull a face as the liquid burns going down your throat; he just laughs. 

“You really don’t like it,” he says as you set your glass down.

“I prefer sweeter things like wine. You know, the stuff that doesn’t taste like acid,” you say, and he just lets out another laugh at your response.

“Well I’ll remember that for next time,” he says, and you almost drop your guys’ cups, which you just picked up to put away.

“Next time?” you pause before looking up at him.

“Yes. I’m going to be here for a while, and I figured the two of us could do something,” he tells you like it was obvious,” Without any whiskey involved of course.”

“And what makes you think I want to?”

“Because you just spent the past ten minutes having a conversation with me. Oh, and your friend told me to come over here since I helped her get with my buddy Buck,” he gives you a smirk.

Your heart practically slaps the ground, and you feel like you actually might throw up. Part of you isn’t surprised because you were never going to do anything about your crush and your friend knew, and the other part of you is shocked because what happened to girl code?

“Well now I definitely don’t want to,” you tell him, half joking, as you resume cleaning up.

[thewulf]

Lost and Found || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if I could request a Jake x Reader. I was thinking a good friends situation where they were both interested in the other but didn’t want to mess up their friend group dynamic and so they never said anything. And of course they were each oblivious to the fact they were into each other,.. Read Rest Here

A/N: Ahhh sorry anon, this took forever to write as I was feeling uninspired. Turns out I just needed to watch TGM and whew! I forgot how much I love Jake Seresin and the TGM crew :) Hope you guys enjoy!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2k +

T/W : Angsty in the beginning

The air in Virginia was thick with the scent of saltwater and fresh possibility when you first noticed the cocky Lieutenant who was making a beeline towards you. It was a humid afternoon on the naval base, and you, a newly hired trauma surgeon, were immersed in your work, lost in the world of medical charts and patient files. And just as you were about to get up, he walked in with a cocky grin and an air of self-assurance that demanded attention. You knew the type, he had to be a pilot. They just had the air about them.

"Hey there, beautiful," he greeted you with a wink, his voice carrying across the room with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. Yeah, he was a pilot. Only they had the reassurance to be so fearless on a first interaction.

You raised an eyebrow at his boldness, unimpressed but intrigued by his approach. "Can I help you with something?" you replied, your tone cool and collected. You knew how to deal with his type. Be dismissive. Ignore them and eventually they’ll get bored enough to leave you alone.

The blonde-haired man slid into the seat opposite you, his grin never faltering as he leaned in closer. "Just couldn't resist the chance to introduce myself to the most captivating woman on base," he said smoothly, his words dripping with charm.

A chuckle escaped your lips, though you tried to suppress it. That was a new one for sure. "Flattery will get you nowhere Lieutenant," you responded, a hint of amusement in your voice.

He grinned in response, undeterred by your playful resistance. His eyes flashed down to your chest which displayed your rank and last name. "Ah, but I'm not just trying to flatter you Lieutenant Commander. I genuinely want to know the name of the woman who's been keeping me up at night," he admitted, his tone sincere but laced with playful arrogance.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his persistence. "Well, in that case, I suppose you'll have to earn it," you teased, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. For whatever reason you were having fun with this interaction. It wasn’t often you would give these Navy boys much time but there was something about him. Something that had you setting down your charts to get a good look at him.

Jake leaned back in his chair, his expression turning thoughtful. "Fair enough," he conceded, his gaze locking with yours. "I'm Jake, by the way. And you are?"

You maintained a playful smile, keeping him guessing as you decided to reveal just a fragment of yourself. "I'm a trauma surgeon," you replied cryptically, letting the mystery linger in the air. It was then that you noticed how handsome he was. Blonde, clean-cut hair and deep green eyes… who wouldn’t swoon for that?

Jake's eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise, his cocky demeanor momentarily faltering. "A trauma surgeon? Now, that's impressive," he remarked, a newfound respect coloring his tone. "Here I am, just a pilot, and you're out there saving lives and I take them."

You chuckled softly at his dark humor, appreciating the humility that so rarely came from the pilots you had known in the past. "It's not a competition," You assured him, feeling a sense of something beginning to form between the two of you. No wonder he was so cocky. He was striking and a pilot to boot? It should’ve been over then and there, but he drew you in further than you had ever intended.

Jake nodded, his gaze lingering on you with a newfound sense of admiration. "I know, but still...what you do is pretty incredible. Badass even.” he said earnestly, a genuine warmth in his voice.

As the conversation continued to flow between you, a comfortable exchange began to form, fueled by mutual respect and a shared sense of adventure. And though you kept him guessing with your playful evasions, there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel drawn to Jake – to his confidence, his charm, and the undeniable spark that crackled between you. And so, as the afternoon sun cast long shadows across the mess hall and the sounds of laughter filled the air, you found yourself fascinated by Jake, captivated by his irresistible charm and magnetic personality. Little did you know, this chance encounter would be the beginning of a friendship – and perhaps something more – that would change the course of your lives forever.

Over time, you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't quite explain. Despite the demands of your respective roles on the base, you made time to see each other whenever you could – stolen moments between shifts, late-night conversations beneath the stars, stolen glances in the dimly lit corridors of the barracks. Everyone knew of the two of you. Clearly in love but too stupid to do anything about it.

But beneath the surface, there was an unspoken tension between you, a lingering sense of longing that neither of you dared to acknowledge. You were both fiercely independent individuals, committed to your careers and reluctant to jeopardize the fragile balance of your friendship with something as unpredictable as love. So, you buried your feelings beneath layers of professionalism, convincing yourself that it was better this way – safer, more practical, less likely to end in utter heartbreak. But no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, the spark between you refused to be extinguished, flickering to life with each passing glance, each fleeting touch.

Then, on a random Tuesday afternoon, Jake dropped a bombshell that shattered the delicate equilibrium you had worked so hard to maintain. "I'm being reassigned after this deployment," he confessed, his voice tinged with regret. "To Miramar."

As Jake's words sank in, a heavy silence enveloped the room, suffocating you with the weight of what his departure truly meant. You had been through so much together over the past three years. The highs and the lows, the laughter, and the tears. And now, faced with the prospect of his absence, you couldn't help but feel as though a piece of your heart was being torn away.

"Miramar? To Top Gun?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper, betraying the ache in your heart. You knew it was everything he had been working towards. And you knew how damn good of a pilot he was. It just surprised you how soon he was getting sent there. He must’ve been the best of the best.

Jake nodded. His expression somber. "Yeah. It's everything I’ve been working towards, but..." His voice trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken, hanging in the air like a heavy cloud of regret.

But all you could feel was a sense of loss. For the friendship you had built, for the moments you had shared, for the possibility of something more that now seemed out of reach. "I'm so happy for you, Jake. You deserve it. You deserve the whole world." You forced the words out, though they felt like shards of glass tearing at your soul. A single tear escaped your eye, tracing a silent path down your cheek.

Jake reached out, gently wiping away the tear with a look of utter despair in his eyes, as if he couldn't bear to see you cry. "I wish you could come with me," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a longing you knew mirrored your own. He grabbed for your hand joining his fingers in with yours.

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, threatening to spill over at any moment. "I know," you replied, your voice thick with unshed tears. "But I'm still in the middle of my fellowship. I can't just drop everything and leave. No matter how badly I want to." Another tear escaped as you realized what this meant. Your little bubble of happiness was going to vanish in an instant.

Jake nodded in understanding, his grip on your hand tightening as if trying to hold onto the moment for just a little while longer. "I know," he murmured, his gaze filled with a mixture of sadness and longing, mirroring the storm of emotions raging within your own heart.

Then, as if trying to lighten the mood, he flashed a small smile. "You know, I used to dream of being a Top Gun pilot when I was a kid," he confessed, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Never thought I'd actually get the chance to fly jets like that."

You couldn't help but smile through your tears, touched by his vulnerability. "You've come a long way from your childhood dreams Jake. I knew you’d be able to do it. If anybody could, it’s you," you remarked softly, a sense of pride swelling within you despite the ache in your heart. Because he did deserve it. He may have come off as an arrogant asshole at first, but he was anything but that. He was your best friend. The man who looked out for you over himself time and time again. You loved him but you held it close to your chest. Because you did love him you had to let him go. Let him go live his dreams.

And as the reality of his departure settled over you like a dark cloud. You couldn't help but wonder how you would ever find the strength to say goodbye to him. As you sat there together, holding hands beneath the harsh fluorescent lights of the barracks, you realized that no matter where life took you, no matter how far apart you may be, the bond you shared with Jake would endure – a constant reminder of the love and friendship that had blossomed in the unlikeliest of places.

After Jake's departure, life on the base took on a different rhythm. The days stretched into weeks, and the weeks into months, each passing moment marked by the absence of his laughter, his warmth, his unwavering presence by your side. Despite the distance, you and Jake still found solace in occasional phone calls and sporadic messages, though never as often as you wished.

On an ordinary day, your world was turned upside down once again. Your commanding officer called you into his office, his expression serious as he delivered the news. "Doctor Y/L/N. I have some important news for you," he began, his tone solemn. "Due to some unforeseen circumstances, we've had to make some adjustments to our staffing plan. You're being reassigned."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a sense of unease settling over you. "Reassigned? But I thought I was heading to Austin for my next rotation. Replacing Doctor Warmack." you replied, trying to mask the anxiety in your voice. You had plans. You were moving to Texas. You had a house picked out. A life you were planning to start. But then again, you were in the military. You should’ve expected this.

Your CO shook his head, his expression unreadable. "Plans have changed. Chula Vista is in urgent need of a trauma surgeon of your caliber," he explained, his words sending a jolt of shock through your system.

Upon hearing the news of your reassignment to Chula Vista, a whirlwind of questions surged within you. "Sir, may I ask where Chula Vista is located?" you inquired tentatively, your voice betraying a mix of curiosity and apprehension. You hadn’t heard of that base. And you could’ve sworn you knew all the potential bases you could’ve been assigned to.

Your commanding officer, a seasoned veteran with a weathered expression, glanced up from his desk, his gaze thoughtful. "Chula Vista is a city just south of here, part of the San Diego metropolitan area," he explained as he pointed to the map of the states, his tone carrying a sense of gravitas. "It's home to several military installations, including Naval Air Station North Island and Naval Base Coronado. It's also in close proximity to Marine Corps Air Station Miramar.”

The mention of North Island and Miramar sent a jolt of emotion through you, memories of Jake flooding your mind with a bittersweet intensity. "Chula Vista also supports Top Gun operations, among many other military endeavors," the CO continued, his voice steady as he provided further context.

You were heading to exactly where Jake was. A shiver of anxiety ripped through you as you processed his words. “Thank you, sir," you replied, a mixture of gratitude and anticipation swelling within you.

As you turned to leave, the weight of the news settled over you, mingling with a newfound sense of purpose. Chula Vista, a city steeped in military history, a place where your path will intersect with Jake's once more. And though uncertainty loomed on the horizon, there was a glimmer of hope shining through. The possibility of reconnecting with Jake and the chance to explore what the future held in store.

As the days passed and your departure drew nearer, you found yourself grappling with a dilemma: should you reach out to Jake before making the move to Chula Vista, or should you let fate take its course and surprise him? The months of silence between you weighed heavily on your mind, leaving you uncertain of where you stood with him. Would he be glad to hear from you, or would your sudden reappearance only complicate things further?

Part of you longed to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed between you and reconnect before the distance between you grew even wider. But another part of you feared rejection, feared that your efforts would be met with indifference or worse… that Jake had moved on without you.

In the end, you couldn't shake the feeling that fate was leading you back to Jake, guiding you toward a reunion that was long overdue. And so, with a leap of faith, you made the decision to keep your plans a secret, to let the element of surprise be your ally. With each passing day, your anticipation grew, your excitement mingling with a touch of nervousness as you prepared for your move to Chula Vista. And as you boarded the plane bound for your new home, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held in store for you, for Jake, and for the bond that had endured despite the trials and tribulations that had threatened to tear you apart.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Hard Deck. You found yourself seated at the bar, engaged in conversation with Penny, the owner of the establishment. The ambience was relaxed, with the murmur of chatter and the clinking of glasses providing a soothing backdrop to your discussion.

Penny, a vibrant and charismatic woman with a penchant for storytelling, leaned in with genuine interest as she got to know you. "So, what brings you to the Hard Deck? I haven’t seen you around here before," she asked, a playful twinkle in her eye.

You offered her a warm smile, appreciating her genuine curiosity. "Just got here a week ago. I've heard so much about this place from my coworkers," you explained, gesturing to the bustling bar around you. "They all recommended it as the must-visit bar in Miramar."

Penny's eyes lit up at your mention of coworkers. "Ah, you must be part of the base personnel then," she observed, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips.

You nodded, a sense of camaraderie forming between you. "I am! I'm a trauma surgeon over at the hospital in Chula Vista," you confirmed.

At the mention of your role, Penny's expression shifted, her eyes widening with recognition. "Wait a minute... are you Y/N? Doctor Y/L/N?" she asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

Surprised by her sudden enthusiasm and knowing of your name, you nodded cautiously. "Yes, that's me. But how did you...?" you trailed off, curious about Penny's sudden change in demeanor. Her excitement was palpable, you could feel it in the air.

Penny beamed at you. "Oh, Jake talks about you all the time! You're one of his favorites," she revealed, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes.

A warmth spread through your chest at her words, touched by Jake's apparent fondness for you. "He does?" you asked, unable to conceal the smile that tugged at your lips.

Penny nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely! He's always mentioning how talented and dedicated you are. He won’t admit it… or he doesn’t recognize it, but that man is head over heels for you, Doctor," she added with a playful wink.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Penny's teasing, feeling a flutter of anticipation as thoughts of Jake filled your mind. Little did you know, your reunion with him was just moments away, and the excitement of seeing him again filled you with a sense of joyful anticipation. Penny's mischievous grin widened as she caught sight of your reaction. "Oh, don't try to hide it, Y/N. I can see that spark in your eye," she teased, nudging you playfully.

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of nervous energy coursing through you. "Alright, you caught me," you admitted with a grin. "I'm looking forward to catching up with an old friend."

As you sat at the bar, lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the door swinging open, admitting a group of pilots. It wasn't until Penny nudged you once more and whispered excitedly that you looked up, your heart skipping a beat as you caught sight of Jake among them.

Before you could react, Jake's eyes locked onto yours, a look of sheer astonishment crossing his face. In a flash, he broke into a wide grin and dashed toward you, weaving through the crowd with purpose. You barely had time to register what was happening before Jake was upon you, pulling you into a massive bear hug that lifted you off your feet. Laughter bubbled up from deep within you as he spun you around in a whirlwind of joy and excitement, the world around you fading away as you surrendered to the moment.

"Y/N!" Jake exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine delight as he held you close, his grip on you tight and unyielding. You couldn't help but laugh along with him, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a familiar cocoon. In that moment, it didn't matter who was watching or what anyone else thought. All that mattered was the sheer exhilaration of being reunited with Jake, of feeling his arms around you once again.

"What the hell are you doing here without telling me, Doc?" Jake exclaimed, his voice filled with mock indignation as he held you close, refusing to let you go.

You laughed, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you at the familiarity of his embrace. "Surprise?" you replied, unable to keep the grin from your face as you met his gaze.

Jake shook his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Well, consider me surprised," he admitted, his tone playful as he finally set you back down on solid ground. “I have to say, this is the best surprise I've had in a long time." As you stood there together, wrapped up in each other's arms, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Despite the years that had passed since you last saw each other, it felt as though no time had passed at all. As though you had simply picked up right where you left off.

As the warmth of your embrace lingered, Jake's eyes remained fixed on yours, a softness settling over his features as he took in the sight of you. His hand remained firmly on your shoulder, his touch comforting and reassuring.

"I've missed you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. "More than you'll ever know." You felt a swell of emotion rise within you at his words, the sincerity in his voice stirring something deep within your heart. Despite the distance and the time that had passed, the connection between you felt as strong as ever – a testament to the bond you shared.

Before you could respond, Jake's gaze softened even further, a flicker of determination shining in his eyes as he made a decision. Without hesitation, he reached for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a silent gesture of solidarity. "Let's catch up," he suggested, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want to share."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face at his eagerness to spend time together. "I'd love that," you replied, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of reconnecting with Jake.

As you stepped outside into the cool night air, the sound of laughter and music fading into the background, Jake turned to you, his expression earnest. "Y/N, there's something I need to say," he began, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You looked at him, curiosity piqued by his serious tone. "What is it, Jake?" you asked, concern flickering in your eyes.

Jake took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "I've thought about this moment for so long, wondering if I'd ever get the chance to tell you how I feel," he confessed, his gaze unwavering as he met your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, anticipation building within you as you waited for him to speak. "How you feel?" you prompted, unable to contain the hope in your voice.

Jake's lips curved into a tender smile, his eyes shining with sincerity. "Y/N, I've been wanting to tell you for so long, but I've been too afraid," he admitted, his voice filled with vulnerability. Before you could respond, he took a step closer, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek gently. "I want to be with you, Y/N," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "I want to make up for lost time and see where this goes."

Your heart fluttered at his words, and as you gazed into his eyes, you found yourself lost in the depths of his sincerity. His vulnerability touched you in a way you hadn't expected, and you felt a surge of affection for him that was impossible to ignore. But before you could respond, Jake took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving yours. "May I kiss you?" he asked, his voice soft but filled with determination.

Your breath caught in your throat at his question, surprised by his respect and thoughtfulness. You nodded eagerly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Please, Jake," you replied with certainty, your voice barely above a whisper. "Of course."

As Jake's lips met yours, a surge of warmth flooded through your entire body. It was as if every nerve in you ignited with a newfound energy, responding to the tender, loving touch of his kiss. Your senses were overwhelmed by the sensation of his lips against yours, soft and yielding yet filled with an undeniable passion. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the sweetness of his embrace. His lips moved against yours with a gentle rhythm, each kiss sending sparks of electricity coursing through your veins. It was one of those kisses filled with longing and desire, a silent confession of the feelings that had been building between you for so long.

Your knees threatened to buckle beneath you as the intensity of the moment washed over you, but Jake's strong arms wrapped around you, holding you close and steady. His touch was both comforting and electrifying, grounding you in the present moment even as you felt yourself swept away by the sheer emotion of it all. His hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer to him as if he could never bear to let you go again. They were warm and reassuring, tracing the curves of your spine with a tenderness that left you breathless. For the first time in your life, you felt utterly and completely cherished, as if you were the most important person in the world to him. Because you were and he was determined to show you that.

As the kiss deepened, the world around you faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you in your own private cocoon of love and desire. It was a moment you would treasure forever, a testament to the depth of the connection you shared with Jake.

When you finally pulled away, your lips still tingling from the sweetness of his, you found yourself lost in his eyes once again. As you gazed into Jake's, feeling the weight of his gaze and the depth of his love, a sense of peace washed over you. It was as if all the pieces of the puzzle had finally fallen into place, and you knew, deep in your heart, that this was where you were meant to be.

With a gentle smile, Jake pressed his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered softly, "I am never letting you go again." His words filled you with a sense of warmth and belonging, reassuring you that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together. While you gazed into the depths of his soul, you knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your story together.

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[zipper-ghost]

Based on a fic I'm working on where Kim and Harry have to go undercover at a gay club

Read the fic on ao3

(lines in bold are Harry’s skills talking. I haven't specified but you can guess)

A chill wind whips their faces as they step onto the precinct roof. They huddle together, facing each other, Harry’s broad body blocking the wind which would snuff out the lighter flame. Kim lit his cigarette and then lit Harry’s. Harry recently switched from Menthols to Kim’s brand of chestnut-flavored cigarettes. Kim hasn’t asked about it even though he noticed.

As the smoke fills his lungs Kim’s whole body visibly relaxes. A softness falls across his expression, his gaze grows distant. You don’t know if it’s the ritual of smoking at the end of the day or the nicotine. The smoldering end of the cigarette is reflected in Kim’s glasses, as are you. They lean against the railing and watch the sunset over the horizon in silence. Harry waits for Kim to start. 

The jingling of Kim unzipping his jacket makes Harry stand a bit straighter and bite the filter for his cigarette. 

“Shall we start?” Kim says taking out his notebook and flipping it open. 

You nod, trying not to linger on Kim’s now exposed collarbone. 

“How do you think the investigation is going?”

“Bad.”

“Kmn, we seem to have hit a dead end. Even though we’ve made contact with the suspect the name he has been using in the club scene seems to be an alias. And his tattoo doesn’t seem to be related to any known gang or criminal organization. We are still waiting for the lab to get back to us about the particular strain of hallucinogen that was in the victim’s system.” 

“It’s worrying…”

“What is?”

“Well, the drug the victim overdosed on- it’s not something we’ve come across before. There is a chance that there will be more overdoses like this.”

“We can look into who the suspect’s supplier might be.”

“He might not have a supplier here.”

Kim glances at Harry. “Why do you say that?”

“The suspect is Seraise. They said he was bragging about being an aerostatic pilot on leave. Maybe he brought the drugs from the Safre empire, would that be possible to find out?”

“I can look into it.” 

For a moment it is silent except for the sound of Kim’s pen on paper. A motor carriage speeds across the street below. Sodium street lights are switched on as the sky grows darker and stars begin to appear one by one. 

“How long do you think we have until he returns to Safre?”

Kim taps the page with the back of his pen. “It’s hard to tell. He has been here awhile, might be any day now.” 

“He probably won’t come to that club anymore,” Harry adds.

Kim’s eyes crinkle. He is smiling though only you would notice. 

“No,” Kim says, “not after you scared him off.”

“I didn’t scare- I am perfectly capable of flirting.”

“Sure, you are,” Kim replies around his cigarette, his flat words dripping with sarcasm. 

“I am! I was just not his type is all. He must be into twinkles-”

“Twinks,” Kim corrects. “Like our victim.”

“Hm.” Harry exhales a plume of white smoke that dissolves into the night. 

“So Kim, what’s your type? Twinks, bears, otters, cubs, tigers, rabbits?”

Kim’s face remains unreadable but his shoulders tense, the pages of his notebook crinkle under his grip. 

He answers after a brief but notable pause. “I don’t have a type. And you made up the last few at the end.”

“Everyone has a type! Are you saying you have no preferences when it comes to who you find attractive?”

“I’m more interested in personalities.”

“You’re such a fucking liar. Come on Kim.”

“Enough detective. We are still in the middle of our briefing and this is irrelevant to-”

“This is relevant to the case,” Harry insists. 

“Fine,” Kim says begrudgingly. “If I had to describe it, it’s say my taste in men is … questionable.”

“Questionable? What does that mean?”

“It means I’m attracted to men who are bad for me or impossibly out of reach. Now if you are satisfied can we get back to the case?”

Harry smiles. If you are smart about it, you could get more information from Kim. “Well your answer was kind of a cop-out but I’ll let it go for now.”

Kim furrows his brow at Harry, a look that says ‘Don’t you dare.’

You feel your knees buckle under the force of Kim’s glare. You grab the railing with one hand. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me about my type?”

“I don’t have to. I already know.”

“What? How do you already know?”

Kim turns back to his notebook and pretends to read. “Because it is obvious. You like them young, waifish, and pretty. Someone mysterious and fragile, someone who you can save.”

Someone to be your redemption. 

“That- that's not true- not everyone that-” Harry stutters. Kim’s blatant description of Dora throws you off kilter. Talking about her is taboo. Even though Kim knows about her and what she did to you he had never brought it up. He knows you still have nightmares of her. 

“Well, just in Martinaise there was Klaasje, Lilienne, the smoker on the balcony, and-”

“Wait- the smoker on the balcony?”

Kim raises an eyebrow. “You were smitten. You went on and on about him, ‘he is such a good listener, I felt heard when I talked to him. He smelled so good, how can someone smell so good?” Kim covers his mouth to hide his condescending grin. 

A formless darkness claws inside you. It feels terrible to be judged, to be teased, but you can’t quite put into words what you are feeling, or why

“You sound jealous,” Harry snaps back. 

Kim sighs. “I’m not jealous. I’m a detective and I notice patterns of behaviour.”

“Well you're plain wrong in this case. You’re not like that-”

“I’m not like what?” 

“Like…” Harry’s breath stutters in his chest. Kim isn’t like Dora or Klaasje or Lilienne or the smoker on the balcony. He isn’t like them and still…

You look at Kim’s cigarette and feel a pang of jealousy. You wish to be that cigarette cradled between his lips. You want to burn into ash, you want to be the bitterness on Kim’s tongue. You want to be the smoke filling his lungs, the nicotine flooding his bloodstream. You want to be Kim’s addiction, you want to be part of him, deep and inextricable. 

“I…” A tidal wave of desire crashes through you but you can’t say the words.

Kim snaps his notebook close. “I guess we’ve reached the end of the briefing. Our conversation is no longer productive.” He tosses his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and crushes the lit ember beneath the heel of his boot. 

His face is unreadable as usual but Kim is upset. 

Damn it. You’ve fucked up Harry. 

Harry follows Kim down the stairs from the roof. 

“I’m sorry Kim, I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“I’m not angry Officer. It’s late and we won’t any more progress today, you should go home early.”

He is lying, if he isn’t mad he wouldn’t call you ‘officer’

[devotional-dwams]

Talk to me

Summary: Crosshair is being a dick, when is he not? But he’s not usually a dick to you, and frankly, you’ve had enough. Crosshair x GN reader (although the nickname “princess” is involved), love confessions. Prompts are in bold and are from the brilliant @novelbear, thanks hun!!

Word count: 1660

Warnings: Crosshair being huffy??? Idk. Reader cries but it’s only slight.

Authors note: Ough my boy. My boooy. Idk if you can tell but I love Crosshair, and so I was bound to write for him eventually. This is set pre-order 66 :))

It wasn’t difficult to notice Crosshair’s sour mood. He had been grumbling for days, and in the tight confinements of the Marauder, there wasn’t a lot of space for his grumbling to fill. Albeit, it was mostly indecipherable huffs, but it was enough to have everyone avoiding him for worry of making him feel worse. You watched him now, his figure sat hunched in the corner as he twirled a toothpick between his teeth and polished his rifle.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m listening.”

“No you weren’t. But I shall continue anyway,” Tech adjusted his goggles as he spoke.

Truthfully, you had been listening but then thoughts of Crosshair had clouded your mind, and your attention drifted away from the man under the console. Tech was in the middle of fixing the panelling, and you’d taken the free seat next to him in order to try and distract yourself. It wasn’t that you were interested in the sniper… maybe that was a lie. You had decided to go with the excuse of worry should anyone ask why you couldn’t take your eyes off him. As if Hunter would believe that, you huffed.

“-and really I, what?” Tech stuck his head out from underneath the console.

“Nothing.”

He picked the spanner up, pointing it at you as he spoke. “I dare say your mind is on Crosshair again.”

You crossed your arms. “No! What makes you say that?”

“Do I really need to go through that list of reasoning? Hold this wire.”

You held your palm out, holding the heavy wire that Tech placed in it. Really it felt more like a plug than a wire, but you conceded. “I’m just worried. He’s been too quiet.”

“He’s always quiet.”

“Yeah but usually he’ll have some kind of sarcastic quip to add. I haven't heard one in days.”

Tech reappeared, holding his hand out for the wire, which you passed to him. “And you miss them, I suppose? How sweet.”

“Tech!” you giggled as embarrassment bubbled up, slapping his arm as you did. From the corner of your eye you watched Crosshair get up and leave the room. The door whooshed behind him. “Don’t talk so loudly, you dolt.”

“I may remind you that you continued this conversation rather needlessly. We all know you’re in love with him.”

The day wore on and you came to the realisation that Crosshair was avoiding you, and if not, ignoring you. It had come as a bit of a slap in the face considering you always tried to be kind to him. The bunk beneath your back felt colder than usual, and in the end you got up, wrapped a blanket around you and headed to the cockpit. It didn’t matter to you that the lights weren’t on, your feet had the path memorised and you easily avoided any object in your way. When you came to the pilot and co-pilot seats, you halted in your tracks. Crosshair sat in one. His feet were propped up on the console, and his arms were crossed. As you turned to go, the floor beneath you creaked and his eyes opened.

“Sorry, I didn’t know- uh, sorry.”

He said nothing, only letting his gaze drift back over the windows in front of you. A sudden flare of anger rose up inside you. He’d been dismissive of you all day and when you apologised, he once again ignored you. You approached him, wrapping the blanket tighter around yourself in order to keep out the chill.

“Actually, no. Talk to me.”

“What?”

“Talk to me. You’ve been ignoring me all day, and I wanna know why.”

“None of your business.”

“Well I’m not moving until you tell me what’s wrong.” You stated, stubbornly sitting in the co-pilot seat beside him.

Silence enveloped you both. This was the problem the two of you shared; neither of you would admit when you were wrong. When you’d first joined the Batch, needing a lift and ending up friends with the strange bundle of clones, Wrecker had laughed. It’s like a nice Crosshair, he’d said. The sniper had sneered at that, elbowing his brother and insisting he was nice. What Wrecker said had stayed in everyone’s minds as it came apparent that he was right. You were a good shot, sarcastic, and most of all, stubborn. But you were chatty, open about how you felt, and you always made sure everyone was involved. When Crosshair would slink away to be alone, you’d find him and offer him a cuppa. Something soon shifted in the balance of the Havoc Marauder, but the issue remained in your shared stubbornness. Neither of you would admit how you felt- despite how apparent it was to all on the ship.

“You know,” you pulled the blanket up to your chin, “when we get to Ord Mantell in a few days, I’m so looking forward to going for a walk. My legs feel all cramped in here.”

Crosshair said nothing, still staring at the brilliant blues of space through the window.

“We could go for a wander if you want? Get some air from the others?”

“Why?”

“Well, I thought it might cheer you up.”

He turned to you, lip curled. “I’d not dream of tearing you away from your boys, princess.”

You were taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play games with me, Y/N. You’ve been drooling all over Tech recently. You’re like a dog trailing behind its master,” he turned his face away from you. “It’s pathetic.”

You had been spending a lot of time with Tech recently, that was true. His rambles had always interested you, and so when he noticed you were down about Crosshair’s sour mood, he’d suggested having a chat in order to distract you. Oftentimes it worked, your mind getting lost in the information Tech taught you. Yet you still couldn’t shake the concern you had over Crosshair, and the worry about the strain on your friendship. What had you done wrong? At his harsh words, you felt your eyes water. While he was cruel, Crosshair hadn’t spoken to you in such a manner before.

“You don’t mean that.” You muttered.

Crosshair stood, tired of pretending that he was fine. As he made to move past you, his eyes caught your hands as they brushed your face. When you sniffled, he realised what was happening.

“…are you crying?”

“No, shut up.”

“You are.”

“Fine, okay maybe I am.” You stood as well, blanket dropping into the seat. Your finger jabbed hardly into his chest when you spoke. “But it’s only because you’re an asshole.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, princess.”

“Oh stop with the princess thing. You know something Cross, you act all high and mighty but if you were actually nice to me, maybe I’d talk to you more too. And what the hell is wrong with me hanging out with Tech? He’s been cheering me up, you idiot.”

Crosshair blinked. “Cheering you up? Why?”

“Because I’m in love with you, you dumbass! And these last few days you’ve been treating me like shit,” you finger jabbed into his chest again, and he stumbled backwards slightly. “And you’ve been ignoring me all fucking day.”

Your chest deflated. Crosshair could essentially see the fire burning out of you. Your voice was a mumble when you spoke, your head dropped to your chest. “So just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

At the sight of your crumpled figure leaning against the seat, his heart shattered slightly. He’d done that. He’d made you cry. And what’s more, you loved him. You’d finally admitted what the two of you had been dancing around, you loved him.

He sighed, massaging his temple. “I’m sorry. I got…”

“Got?”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Tech.”

Something lit up in your mind. He was jealous? All his grumbling and death stares were because of the watchful green eyed monster on his mind? You pressed your fingers to your lips, giggling.

“You were jealous.”

“No, shove off.”

“Oh, you were so jealous.”

He went to cross his arms, but you took hold of his hands as he spoke in a small voice. “Maybe a little bit.”

“And why were you jealous, Cross?”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“With the misery you’ve put me in, I think I deserve to tease you a bit. So, go on.” You nudged his forehead with yours. “Why?”

“Because I want all your attention on me, happy?”

“Why’s that?”

“Karkin hell, do I really have to spit it out?”

“I would appreciate that, yes.”

Crosshair fell silent for a moment. The tension in the room was palpable as he found your eyes, his hands in yours pulling you closer. “Because?” His nose brushed yours, his voice a hushed murmur. “I’m in love with you.”

“Oh, I-“

Crosshair’s lips landed on yours. The kiss began roughly, a harsh press against each other. Yet soon it melted into something sweet, and when he pulled away you found yourself chasing after for another kiss. Crosshair happily complied. When you parted, you nudged your face into his shoulder as he hugged you. It was extraordinarily unlike the clone you’d come to be so soft for, and yet somehow incredibly him. His hands were wrapped right around your waist, his nose in your hair. You felt him sigh happily.

For the moment the two of you would stay in your bubble, content in the long awaited admission of your feelings. In the morning, the crew of the Havoc would gently tease you both, laughing at the lovestruck expressions you wore for each other. Even Echo would poke fun at his little brother. And later still, you’d guide Crosshair to a semblance of comfort in being soft for you around his vod. For now though, it was enough to know that Crosshair was sorry, and that your feelings were shared.

[ohworm-writes]

「✰」 ━━ AS GOOD AS I DO

RATING R - Restricted [ Content warnings : 18+ mdni, smut, dom!Nikolai, fem!sub!virgin!reader, alcohol consumption, strong language, thigh riding, heavy make-out session, praise with heavier degradation, oral fixation, fingering, size difference, loss of virginity, corruption kink, p in v sex, mirror sex, hair pulling, spanking ]

SYNOPSIS You didn't know that it was a military bar, so you had no warning about all of the pent up soldiers that have their eyes on you and your friends. As most of them leave to have fun of their own, you don't. Why? Because you're a virgin. To your luck (or loss), a particular Russian pilot has his eyes set on you, and he intends to make the most of your first time that will have you crawling back for more.

WORD COUNT 11.3k (Too fucking much.)

The cold air bites harshly at your exposed skin, sinking its fangs in deep, forcing a shiver up your spine that makes you tense and makes way for goosebumps to break out all across your skin, the hairs on your body standing on edge as you roughly rub at the areas in hopes that the friction will do its job properly in warming you up.

It does, if only momentarily, give you a small sliver of reprieve and the opportunity to bask in the warmth before it’s cruelly yanked away the very second you halt your movements, letting that frigid cold seep right back in and settle deep into your bones, comfortably making a home for itself there.

From the exterior, the bar hardly looks... appealing, should we say? The exterior reeks of piss, stomach acid, and sex—a combination of scents that makes you scrunch up your nose in disgust and discomfort—and the building itself is hardly any better, the paint chipping and cracking all over the place with the brick looking as if it’ll crumble with so much as a gust of wind.

So, with a deep, heavy breath, you push open the old, creaky wooden door and take a step inside, immediately being greeted with a rush of warmth and the smell of fresh food and liquor. Lively, half-drunken chatter fills the air from the bar’s patrons, with some groups seated along the bar and others at tables scattered across the hardwood floor; nearly everyone within the establishment has one or more people to be paired with, leaving nobody alone.

The people, though, aren't exactly who you expected to see. When your group of close friends initially invited you to come out with them for a night of drinking near one of their flats, far off along the outskirts of the bustling city, you really had no reason to refuse the extended offer. After all, you hadn’t seen some of them in months, so this would be the perfect opportunity to catch up, no?

Well, it is. But nobody thought to tell you that you’d be walking right into a military bar.

Apparently, according to one of your friends, there’s a base just a few kilometers down the road, and, given that this is the closet bar in the vicinity of it, it’s where every active-duty soldier and veteran comes. They make up ninety percent of the bar’s patrons, too, so you and your friends are some of the few groups that aren’t associated with the military. Well… yet.

And not that there’s any issue with it being a military bar, of course! It’s just that… you aren’t exactly accustomed to dealing with such… bold personalities. 

While your friend group does, in fact, consist of a few colorful characters and then some, the other patrons at the bar are a little too much for your taste. You’re used to your friends making crude jokes, being loud and rowdy, and playfully flirting with you and everyone else, but when it comes to others? You aren’t exactly prepared.

You and your friends are sat around a large wooden table near the very center of the bar, a number of large splits cracking down the length of it, with one of the legs being propped up by a book due to it not being long enough to reach the floor. At least the chairs are somewhat comfortable, even if they’re nothing more than metal barstools with a bit of cushion on them.

The alcohol is fairly cheap, to everyone’s delight, especially when it’s actually good. You’d think, with the state that the bar’s interior and exterior are in, that the drinks and food would be equally as abhorrent with mold or bugs or something disgusting, but no! The food is cooked through and seasoned well, and the drinks are as they should be. So, none of you can really complain when the main attraction is enjoyable.

You all talk about anything and everything: who is sleeping with whom, what co-worker or boss got exposed for something or other, whatever celebrity drama is happening at the moment, what show or movie someone saw recently that you just have to watch. It’s a mixture of small talk and deep discussion, with the conversation flowing smoothly as everyone enjoys their food, drinks, and the company that surrounds them.

Until the first soldier approaches.

He’s young, no older than twenty-two—even that might be a bit of a stretch—dressed fully in uniform, the green camo pants he wears tucked neatly into a pair of black boots with a fitted shirt clinging tightly to his skin, emphasizing his physique. He isn’t bad-looking per se, but he definitely isn’t your type. 

He walks over by himself with a smug, self-assured grin plastered on his face as he approaches one of your friends who sits directly across from you, giving you a perfect view and earful of the interaction as you take a sip of your liquor, watching as he puts his hand on the back of her chair, speaking in a hushed whisper.

“Hey there, pretty girl. You look bored over ‘ere with all of y’r friends. I could make y’r night more interestin’, y’know. You interested?”

Okay. Wow. Starting off strong.

And before you even know it, she’s giving a sheepish smile to the rest of you, apologizing and excusing herself from the table as she grabs her coat and purse from the back of her chair, waving you and everyone off before turning and hurriedly trailing behind the man like a lost puppy and out towards the car lot outside, no doubt ready and willing to get in some action of her own before the night is through.

And that’s just the beginning. After another half hour, all of your friends have either grabbed their things and said their goodbyes to go home with the soldier of their choice for the night, or they left to the bathroom or back alley, only to come back with a limp to their gait, bruised lips, marks, tousled hair, and fucked-out eyes. And if it’s the latter, it only takes them a few minutes before they leave, just like their formers.

It’s not like you haven’t had your fair share of men and women alike trying to court you, either. In fact, there have been four different people who have come up to you throughout the night and have tried their hand at seducing you, whether it be shitty pick-up lines that they use or bold flirtatious remarks, some even trying to trail an eager hand across your shoulder or back as a means to further entice you.

But you haven’t failed to turn each and every single one of them down, polite as you may try to be. It’s for two separate reasons, you deduce. One is that the people who are coming up to you aren’t exactly your type, be it in terms of the way that they look or their personality, while the other reason is… slightly more straightforward.

You’re a virgin.

So, to you, it’s no surprise that you’re adamant on turning down everyone that comes up to you to try and, for lack of better wording, try to get into your pants. Your other friends who have already been approached and taken up their offers for a good fuck, be it bent over the bathroom sink, pressed up against the brick wall in the alley outside, or going home to enjoy that ecstasy in a bed, intend to spend their nights well.

They’ll be having more of a “good night” than you will, even though they’ve all wished you well with some variation of that phrase.

So, here you sit at an empty table, nursing your drink with a soft sigh, bored out of your mind as you trail your pointer finger around the rim of the glassware in a slow, calculated manner. You can’t help but feel a bit left out. Again, not as if you haven’t already been given a multitude of chances and offers that you could have taken up hours ago, but none of them—to you, at least—seem to be someone worthy of taking something as intimate as your virginity away from you.

To hold it in their palms like a trophy or medal to display with smug, overzealous pride. To flaunt, to brag about, and then to ultimately forget, because to them, your virginity doesn’t matter. It’s something that can boost their ego for a momentary period of time before shrugging off and away because it didn’t matter and wasn’t important.

So, no, you decide. None of the overconfident, liquid courage-fueled bastards are worthy of taking your virginity away from you. Thus, you only have yourself to blame for your “lack of action," so you can’t complain about it any longer when you’ve dug in your heels and chosen to stick firmly by your decision, now can you?

That is, until a particular Russian man donning aviators and a brown leather flight jacket downs his shot in one go and stands, beginning to take slow, confident strides in your direction from his previous seat positioned at a small table in the far back corner of the bar from behind you, with four men urging him on with a few whistles and cheers.

Not that he has any need for encouragement or prayers, of course.

You don’t even notice him as he approaches, because you’d assume with a man of his size and stature that you’d at the very least be able to hear his footsteps, but no. He’s completely silent until he’s right behind you, one hand holding onto the back of your chair in a casual manner while the other splays out right beside your drink as he leans into it, both next to you and behind you all at once.

You can feel his hot, vodka-soaked breath fall heavy against the exposed skin of your spine even when his mouth isn’t anywhere near you yet, still maintaining some level of control over himself and his actions. You’re unable to see the way he catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he grins, thoroughly amused with the way a shiver crawls up your spine, right to where you had felt the ghost of his breath just moments ago.

That, and the flames of desire that flare up and burn behind his eyes.

“I cannot help but notice that your friends left you behind all by yourself. So cruel to do that to someone like yourself.”

You can only assume that sarcasm laces his tone with the way he puts emphasis on certain words or the way he speaks with a specific lilt, but that couldn’t be the furthest thing from the truth. He means every word he says, so, if anything, it’s pure and unbridled amusement and honesty that lace his words and the way that he speaks.

Because he does think that it’s cruel that all of your friends have left you alone with nothing more than a quick, uncaring, departing word or phrase before they rush out to follow behind and fuck some other mindless soldier who, more than likely, has already had their fair share of the bar’s civilian patrons. Your friends don’t mean anything special to those soldiers, as unfortunate as it is, but that fact in and of itself is what separates him from those men.

Even if, yes, he’s in just as much of a desperate need to get off as they are.

You have to fight against the urge to roll your eyes at his words, your pointer finger continuing to drag lazily along the rim of your glass as you work to ignore him, not exactly up for trying to craft another excuse as a means to reject whatever proposal of having sex you assume he’s come up with, content with picking up your drink and finishing it off with a slow, steady breath, letting the liquor burn down your throat with indifference.

But, unfortunately for you, that only furthers his intrigue. So, with a smirk that slowly begins to spread out wider across his lips, even if you still don’t turn to see it, he chooses to take his shot and make a move. Or, rather and more accurately put, he makes an executive decision that he won’t allow you to refuse.

“Let me buy you a drink, да? Keep you company.”

And, just as stated, he doesn’t allow you to refuse him or turn down his offer like you had done with the others, already waving and making a few hand gestures at one of the servers, calling out to them for a refill of whatever you had been drinking and to place whatever your tab had been under his card, pulling out an empty chair, and taking his place in the seat beside you, getting to see that smug smirk for yourself for the first time.

And now your in it.

He’s… surprisingly pleasant to be around, you come to find out as you begrudgingly begin to converse with him. At first, you still try to ignore him, not even touching the new drink as it’s set in front of you just yet, keeping your eyes trained on and tracing the different rings in the wood table, but, in coming to the conclusion that he isn’t going to leave you alone, you start talking.

The conversation is forced when it begins, consisting of quick responses from you that lack any emotion or indication that you want to keep speaking. But he’s patient, and he waits, and he shifts his approach to asking questions that you can’t just give one to two word responses to, forcing the conversation into something of value. And only then does it begin to flow, slowly blending into something smoother—something that you can enjoy.

You learn his name, Nikolai, tasting it on your tongue with a sip of your drink, letting the flavors and tastes seep into your palette and glide down your throat until you feel it pool and fester in the depths of your stomach. The way you say his name makes his own cheshire-esque grin wifey further, his eyes crinkling with a flicker of undeniable mischief. It’s dangerous, but it draws you in just like a siren to a sailor.

He keeps the conversation civil at first, not wanting to scare you off just yet when he’s barely captured your attention, asking a few generic questions and molding them into something of substance, giving a few answers of his own and straying away from keeping them vague, trying to be as specific as he can afford to allow as a means to keep your attention drawn in on him. 

But after you finish your drink and he moves to order you another without question, he gets bolder.

Brushes of his fingers against your bare skin, remarks and words heavy with innuendo, heavy heated breaths that fan across the space between you both, and purrs that make your head spin in the best ways possible. It’s equally overwhelming as it is underwhelming. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s doing it better than you could have ever anticipated, drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

You’re in over your head before you can even comprehend what’s happening.

“Come on, лапушка … let me give you a better night than your friends could ever even dream of having.”

His voice is heavy, as is his accent, his body turned to look at you with his face no more than a few centimeters away from your own, one of his hands busied with trailing his fingertips lazily up and down the exposed skin of your forearm, barely even touching it at all, while the other rests atop your thigh, the warmth from his skin seeping through the fabric of your pants as his thumb brushes back and forth in a methodic motion.

Nikolai’s staring down at you with these half-lidded eyes that you can barely even make out through his dark aviators, his breathing coming out in slow, shallow exhales, weighing heavy in his chest as he drags his tongue across his bottom lip, gently cocking his head to the side with that same smug look that hasn’t left his face or lips since he first started to speak with you, danger dancing behind his eyes.

A warning and a question wrapped into one, questioning if you’re ready for a man like him.

You look up at him, searching for as much as a flicker of that same cocktail of overzealousness and egotism that you so easily caught in every other person’s eyes as they presented you with a similar offer, seeing you as nothing more than a warm body to accompany and please them for the evening. To be able to decline him, turn down his offer, and go home for the night… to be able to forget about him and this before you let it get out of hand.

But you can’t find it. He wants you, yes, that much you can tell, but not in the same way that they did.

“Okay. Yeah… sure. Yes.” You tell him, stumbling over your words messily, but he doesn’t seem to care about it in the slightest. That smile of his edges with danger as he effortlessly moves his hand, grasping onto his aviators, taking them off and hooking them onto his shirt, his other hand leaving your thigh as he moves you in front of him, moving his hand to the small of your back to guide you around the bar towards one of the bathrooms near the back.

He stands tall from behind you, confidence radiating from his very being as he casually walks, uncaring of all the eyes that stare down at the two of you from all across the establishment as the watch, knowing full and well exactly what’s about to transpire, even if you don’t. His friends, the four, sat at the table just a few feet away from the bathroom door, sending him sly smiles and nods of approval. One of them, a bearded man wearing a bucket hat, holds up his wrist and taps at his watch, sending Nikolai a knowing look even as he grins just like the rest. You don’t exactly know what it means, but it doesn’t seem to phase the Russian in the slightest, rolling his eyes as he opens up the bathroom door, the hinges creaking loudly as it arches open, ushering you inside as he follows suit, letting it close with a groan, the lock clicking.

He’s on you in a second.

He turns you around, pressing you back roughly against the door as he crowds you against it, one of his knees wedging itself in between your thighs, shifting them apart, and one of his forearms moving to lie against the door above your head so that he can lean over and look down on you, giving you a crystal clear idea of how much bigger he truly is than you, bucking his knee up against your cunt.

A moan threatens to spill past your lips at the action, eyelids fluttering as the noise bubbles up… but he’s quick to catch it. Before it can boil over, Nikolai presses a bruising kiss to your lips, groaning into it, the sound rumbling like an earthquake from deep within his chest. A long, drawn-out “fuck” passes through his lips as he pulls away momentarily, trying desperately to catch his breath, his actions filled with lust.

His eyebrows knit together, and he bucks up his knee once more as he looks down at you, watching and relishing in the way your lips part and allowing for another sweet moan to drip past your lips, breathing stuttering, catching in your throat as he brings one of his big hands up to hold at your hip, urging you to grind against his knee, a high-pitched keen from you filling the empty space, occupied only by his heavy breaths.

“Look at you." Nikolai mumbles out, almost mockingly, taking in the sight before him of your parted lips, your shoes just barely touching the floor as he supports you on his knee, guiding you to grind along the length of it, the half-liddedness of your eyes. The sight is intoxicating, one that he desperately wants to photograph, frame, and keep to himself for as long as time allows, because, God, you’re a vision.

Nikolai dives back in for another kiss, this one lasting far longer and being much heavier—nothing short of tongue and teeth—as he loses himself in the taste of you. You aren’t much better. If anything, you’re in so much worse of a state than he is right now. You can feel your own composure crumbling apart in his hands, held together only by the taste of his lips. You can’t even fight it—not that you’d even want to in the first place.

You bring your hands up, letting them glide across his shoulders, fingers splayed, taking in the expanse of them before they go up further, tangling into his hair. The sensation forces another groan out of him, the sound trickling down your throat without a single ounce of shame, freely showing to you just how deep his need and desperation are to have you run within his bones.

“Have to… have to have you… You understand, да? You’ll let me?”

Nikolai breathes out between kisses, unable to decide whether he wants to lose himself in the feeling of your lips against his and nothing more, or if he wants to map and memorize every part of the inside of your mouth with his tongue. It’s a tough decision to make, so he opts simply to alternate between the two. It’s the best he can get of both worlds, he decides.

And your mind is finally allowed the space it’s ached for to remind you of exactly what this entire situation will lead to. 

He didn’t intend to bring you to the bathroom just to have a quick, hot and heavy make-out session with you, as nice as that would be. No! That’s not what you signed up for, dummy! The second you agreed to be led back here by him, you were giving him permission and consent to fuck you, and you know it!

“Imavirgin!”

The words come flowing out past your lips like water as you pull away from him, the back of your head falling back against the wooden door as you gasp desperately for air, breathing in quickly and out brokenly before you can even process what you’ve said, trying to regulate your breathing from the way he had taken the oxygen straight out of your lungs. And when it does catch up to what you’ve said, you feel your face burn white hot, completely flushed.

You’re looking at him with wide eyes, something akin to a deer in headlights, while he looks back at you, now in the process of catching his own breath, with nothing more than a slightly confused expression as he works to pick apart your hurried, panicked words. And when it dawns on him as to what you’ve said, his pupils blow wide just a fraction, minutely, and just barely noticeable.

He doesn’t look disgusted or weirded out by your words, to your surprise, having expected that exact response from him and being wildly confused when you can’t find an inkling of that expression on his face. “That wasn’t what I asked, лапушка.”

Nikolai mumbles out to you, pressing his forehead against your own as he allows his breathing to slowly but surely level out, his dazed, lust-filled eyes boring into your own, fingers loosening gently around your hip as he watches you intently.

He doesn’t care that you’re a virgin. It doesn’t bother him in the slightest, and, if anything, it turns him on. But what he's saying now is that he wants you, but he’s asking at the same time if you’ll let him, allowing for that decision to lie completely within your control. He isn’t forcing himself upon you, still giving you the ability to say no and withdraw your consent before he pushes anything further, simply asking if you understand what he means and if you’ll let him.

So, now you’re faced with a decision. 

Do you withdraw your consent and tell him that, no, you won’t let him go any further with this? Because, quite frankly, you aren’t ready. Not ready to have sex for the first time in your life, not ready to lose your virginity, and certainly not ready to give up such an intimate part of yourself to a man you only met less than an hour ago.

Or... do you take a leap of faith without sparing a single glance beforehand and tell him that, yes, you do understand what he means, very clearly comprehending it and recognizing what’s to come with the acceptance of his proposal, and that, yes, you will let him have you and your body? That you’ll let him do whatever he wants to you, to be the one to take your virginity from you… and maybe then some.

It’s an important decision for you to make, one whose answer determines whether or not you lose your last sense of innocence. And, for better or for worse, far beyond your better judgement, you don’t spend too much time weighing the pros and cons before making your decision.

“I… ah… I understand. And… yeah, yes. Please.” Just like before, your answer comes out laced with hesitation and apprehension, both emotions undeniable, especially with the way your voice cracks and strains, leaving you to stumble and stutter over your words as you give him your answer with a shaky voice. Your hands are still tangled into his hair, albeit much looser now, but still present, the tremors that wrack through them gently tousling the dark strands.

And, after a moment, allowing his space to process what you said, Nikolai’s fingers resume their tight grip on your hip, the thick fingers bruising the skin, no doubt, even through the layers of your clothes. Never breaking eye contact with you, he pulls his head back, removing his forehead from its spot pressed against yours, his eyes shamelessly looking you up and down, his tongue gliding over the skin of his teeth.

“Умница.”

Nikolai mumbles out with praise, his voice barely louder than a whisper, though gruff and gravely beyond belief, a testament to his desire, moving his hand down for your hip to cup and grope at your ass through your pants, the other quickly following suit as he hoists you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips so as not to fall. Even if he wouldn’t ever let that happen in the first place, of course.

With your legs wrapped so tightly around his hips, you can very easily feel the hardness of his cock, even through all of the layers of clothing that separate you. You feel your breath hitch and stutter as it comes out shakily, your eyes boring into his own with parted lips and an open mouth, so unaware of what he has in store for you.

Oh, sweetheart, he’s going to fucking ruin you.

Unlike before, his footsteps are heavy as they move against the tiled floor of the bathroom, the thuds filling the space between the two of you, mixed with your own shared heavy breaths as he moves to, rather unceremoniously, drop you onto the long sink that lines one of the walls. Your legs dangle over the edge of it, and your thighs spread apart so far that you can feel your pants straining to accommodate them and the burn of your thighs as he stands between them.

He brings you back in for another kiss, his body towering over your own as he forces you to lean back against the cold mirror behind you, a shiver crawling up the length of your spine as you moan into his mouth, earning a pleased groan from him, just like before. His hands move, hooking into the loops of your pants as he forces them down, not even requesting for you to lift up your ass to make it easier, doing all the work for himself.

Nikolai’s tongue glides along your bottom lip, teasing its way into your mouth. His teeth clink against your own, and the kiss is sloppy and messy in a way that makes you moan out, whining softly. They’re two sounds that he eagerly swallows from your lips and drinks in like wine. He roughly shoves your pants the rest of the way down, moving them around and off of one foot so they dangle off of the other, the leg dragging against the floor.

Pulling back, Nikolai chuckles darkly at the way you try to cling to him, gently and desperately tugging at his hair with a whimper, trying to urge him back down for another kiss. He clicks his tongue, tutting at you with disapproval, shaking his head as he does so, giving you a warning look that quickly makes you remove your hands from their position, letting them come to fist at his shirt, gripping onto it with desperation.

“Нет. None of that. You're so eager for something that you have never even had. You don’t know how to act. We have to fix that, да?” It’s condescending that the way Nikolai speaks, mocking you and making fun of you for how desperate you are when he hasn’t even done anything of real substance yet—nothing more than a bit of making out and thigh grinding—has you acting out of line. Granted, you don’t really know where that line stands, given that you haven’t ever done this before, but he’s here to show you. To teach you and ingrain into you the role that you play beneath him.

Nikolai brings one of his hands up, cupping your chin and holding it tightly and firmly between his thumb and forefinger, the others pressed against the side of your throat, tilting it upwards as you strain your neck to keep up with the action. He inches his thumb up further, looking down at and watching you with narrowed eyes, cold and calculating as he presses them against your lips, feeling the way you exhale shakily out of your nose.

“Open.” It’s not a request, as you can tell, so you don’t waste any time looking at him with confusion, simply parting your lips for him and opening your mouth, just as he’s requested. He doesn’t even give you a moment to fully comprehend what's happening as he pushes his thumb past your lips, presses the rough pad down onto your tongue, and hooks it behind your teeth as he pulls you closer to him.

Drool begins to pool inside your mouth as you look up at him with wide eyes, trying to speak, to whine, and to say something, but he tightens his grip in response, growling lowly. It’s your second warning.

“I thought you were a smart girl? Didn’t I say that? Умница, Да? Act like one.”

His other hand, the one currently positioned near your calf, not having moved since pulling your pants roughly down your legs, inches its way upwards, brushing against the exposed skin and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Teasing, maybe, but it further ingrains his point into your head that, if you don’t start to behave and let him do the work, you won’t be getting any satisfaction or pleasure out of this.

He doesn’t care if this is your first time or not, and it’s not in a dismissive or cruel way. He’s simply treating you like he would any other person that he was going to have sex with, so it’s a mixture of equal rights and equal opportunity, you suppose. Whether or not that’s a good or a bad thing is… undetermined.

His palm presses against your thigh, fingers splayed as they continue to inch upward, branding your skin with the heat they exude, and, as much as you want to buck your thigh up into his palm and beg for him to rush and hurry up, you don’t. Because, lucky for you, that critical thinking skill is starting to work, the gears in your head are turning and allowing you the space to think. You have to be patient and good if you want what he can give you.

So, rather hesitantly, you wrap your lips around his thumb, gently gliding and swirling your tongue around his thumb, covering it in the slick, sticky saliva that pools in your mouth, looking up at him as you wait, playing that role of the smart girl that he wants you to be. Not rushing, not hurrying, and not begging.

And, oh, are you rewarded for it.

Nikolai lets out another deep and heavy "fuck," but this time it’s shaky and strained, the heat and movement of your tongue against his skin lighting up fireworks in his body that go straight down to his cock. His composure slips, if only momentarily, before he picks it right back up, catching his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down onto it roughly, shakily breathing as he watches you with half-lidded eyes and a twitching grin.

“There you go. Much better.”

Nikolai’s fingers brush against the fabric of your panties, his eyes breaking away from your face as he looks down and leans his body back slightly, watching his own actions as, with one finger, he moves them to the side, exposing your glistening cunt to his wanting eyes, pushing it until it touches your other thigh, using his fingers to spread out your folds, listening to the squelching sounds they make.

He gently presses his thumb to your entrance, not yet pushing inwards, simply moving it around the area with purpose, listening to the sounds that it makes—a perfect symphony, if you were to ask him. He drags the pad of it upwards just as slowly, letting it glide and trail over the length of your pussy until he reaches your clit, his eyes flickering up at you as he presses down against it, making slow, gentle circles around it, watching you.

Even with your mouth wrapped around his thumb, you let out the prettiest moan, muffled into a hum as your hips jerk upwards unintentionally at his actions. Your eyelids flutter, twitching and arching your back in a quick spasmed motion, and he drinks in the sight of it with greed, his breaths so hot and heavy as he watches.

You’re going to put him in an early grave, Nikolai thinks to himself. How is he going to survive when you’re so good and so eager for him? Letting him play with your pretty pussy like this, toying and playing with it as if the action were innocent in nature without arguing, whining, and begging for more?

He’s being so mean to you when it’s your first time. He should be treating you so sweetly and nicely, shouldn't he? He should’ve sunk his cock into you a while ago, broken you in, and given you the soft lovemaking you deserve to have. He should’ve made you cum already; feel you squeeze him and listen to you make more of those pretty sounds that he’s starting to crave like a drug.

But that isn’t the man Nikolai is. But, then again, he can still recognize and appreciate your actions. He can still praise you and give you something of substance before he lets himself take away your innocence and let his most perverse thoughts run wild.

Taking his thumb out of your mouth and watching the drool drip down from it, Nikolai places it into his own mouth, sucking your taste from it until it’s clean. Only then does he bring his middle and ring fingers to your lips. And now, you know exactly what to do without instruction, leaning forward and taking them into your mouth, gagging softly as you take them as far back as you can, your tongue drooling and licking all over them, wetting them thoroughly.

And this time when he removes them, he quickly moves on to shift them to your other set of lips, smearing the saliva all over your cunt, right near your entrance. He teases the tip of one of his fingers around it, pressing in gently and slowly, taking his sweet time. His fingers are so much thicker than your own; one of them is akin to the width of two of your own.

It doesn’t hurt, nor does it strain too much. It’s bearable—something you can handle. That is, until he works to ease the second finger in, letting you get used to the feeling of one of his fingers inside of you for only a few moments before pressing the second one in. And this time, instead of your breath simply catching in your throat, it’s as if the wind has been knocked out of you, leaving you gaping and gasping. "O-oh, fuck, please."

You whisper out softly, your voice breaking into a whimper as your back fully arches against the mirror, your jaw slack as you moan out pathetically, closing it only to swallow the saliva in your mouth down harshly, making an audible gulp, before opening it once more, breathing out heavily with whimpers falling from your lips as he eases it in further. The burn from the stretch has you dizzy in the head—a mixture of pain from the sting of it and the pleasure of being filled so well.

Nikolai smiles slyly, pushing in all the way until his fingertip brushes against your cervix, cooing to you in a degrading manner as you cry out, your thighs instinctively squeezing together, trying to urge him away.

“What? Do you want me to stop?” Nikolai muses with a smug grin spread out across his lips, taunting you with the way he spreads his fingers out into a v-shape. He struggles against the tightness of your cunt, feeling your walls gripping onto him like a vice, but not stopping either way. He’s pushing you to your limits, maybe even far beyond them at this point, but everything he’s doing is sending your mind into a blurry haze of pleasure.

So much as him mentioning stopping makes you want to sob.

“No! No, no no no, please no. Please don’t stop. Please.”

You beg him with your breathing bordering on hyperventilation from how quickly you’re inhaling and exhaling, with a tone raw with emotion and desperation, just as it was before, but the contexts feel so different this time. You spread your legs impossibly wider, that burn from before feeling like nothing in comparison to the way he’s stretching you out right now, his fingers knuckle deep into you.

Nikolai lets out an amused hum in response, slowly closing his fingers, feeling the way you squeeze him and force them back together, before spreading them out wide once more, his thumb creeping its way up towards your clit. You can barely notice it, too busy moaning for him and trying your best to keep your legs spread as much as your body tries to fight it. Unshed tears brim at your eyes, a testament to how good it all feels.

And when his thumb eventually makes its way to your clit, applying pressure as it moves in slow circles, you swear on everything you hold dear that you could cum then and there. Your eyes roll back into your head the second he presses his fingers back together and starts to curl them upwards, hitting that gummy spot that makes your body go rigid with tension.

“Good. I need to get you ready for me, after all. It will not do either of us any good if you cannot take all of me.”

If you had even half of your brain working, you might be able to formulate some kind of response to his words, but, with your mind so overwhelmed with pleasure, all you can do is squeeze his fingers tighter and moan like a whore. He continues his motions of pumping and curling his fingers inside of you, his thumb gradually picking up its pace, swirling tighter, quicker circles around your clit.

You’re mouth is perpetually open, and all the sounds that rise up deep within your throat are bubbling up without a single barrier to block them, your hands gripping tightly onto his shirt with no intention of letting go. Nikolai takes them all in with pride, every sound fueling his ego and his desires, only encouraging him further to quicken his motions. With the way your whines get higher in pitch and the way your body tenses, he can practically taste how close you are.

His free hand moves up your chest, slipping underneath the fabric of your shirt and hooking his thumb beneath your bra, pushing both upwards. He stuffs the fabric of your shirt into your mouth, muffling your moans, and, while it isn’t necessarily his intention to do so, he just has to get a look at your tits.

He can see how hard your nipples are and the way your tits jerk and bounce softly with every catch and stutter of your breath, and the sight drives him just as wild as the picture of his fingers stuffed inside of you with a mixture of your drool and slick smeared messily around your cunt and all over his knuckles.

Nikolai can’t stop himself as he leans forward, ensuring that you meet his eyes with a gentle tap of his fingers against your cheek when he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around it and his teeth gently grazing against it with a teasing bite. That sight and those sensations, combined with the way he’s been abusing your poor, puffy clit and pussy with his fingers, are all it takes to push you over the edge.

Your orgasm hits you with the force of a truck, completely knocking the wind out of you. Your breathing catches in your throat before stopping altogether for a moment, all of the blood in your body seemingly rushing to your ears. Your thighs snap shut, squeezing tightly around his wrist, and your eyes roll back into your head as far as they can go as you cum around his fingers, gushing and leaving them covered in your essence.

He lets you ride it out without saying a word, simply watching with a grin as you lose yourself in ecstasy—the pleasure that’s thrumming through your veins like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, and he knows it. The very sight of you like that has him gritting his teeth, growling out a low “yeah, there you go" against your chest as he detaches his mouth from your nipple, watching as you come undone, slowing down the movements of his fingers and thumb to let you ride out the waves of your orgasm undisturbed.

Your breathing stutters, that familiar glossy haze covering your eyes as you come back down to earth, blinking up dumbly at him as you regain your sense of awareness, opening and closing your jaw. All of that tension dissipates from your body with ease, fizzing out, leaving you practically boneless atop the bathroom sink, working on catching your breath as you try to remember how to think.

As you do that, looking down, Nikolai slowly pulls his fingers out of you, his eyes completely blown out as he watches the way your body tremors with aftershocks, shivering once he’s completely pulled out. Just like he knew they would be, his knuckles are covered in a ring on white, and the length of his fingers smeared with your cum and slick, soaked.

He wants to taste it; truly, he does, but that would just ruin what comes next.

Blinking, slowly coming out of the fog that the afterglow of your orgasm covers you in, you watch as Nikolai pulls back, bringing his hand away from your face as he brings it down towards his lower half, mumbling under his breath in Russian as he makes work of his belt singlehandedly, loosening it just enough that he can unbutton and unzip his pants. He doesn’t even shove them down his legs to kick them off fully, simply maneuvering the waistband of his boxers beneath his balls to free his cock.

And the sight of it sobers you up quickly.

How the fuck does he expect you to fit him inside of you?

“You’ll take it.” He tells you without missing a beat, confident, practically reading your mind because he’s become well acquainted with that very look that crossed over your features when you saw it. It makes him chuckle, if anything, using his hand covered in your juices and smearing it all across his length, and you can’t help but watch greedily at the sight, understanding exactly why he’s so obsessed with sound with the way the smearing of your slick and cum fills the air between you.

Nikolai takes a step back, not yet bringing his eyes away from the sight of his cock as he mixes your juices with his own pre-cum, eyebrows knitting as he loses himself in his own thoughts. After a moment, he clicks his tongue. The sound immediately catches your attention, effortlessly making you perk up and shift your eyes from his cock to his face.

“Get down from there and turn around. I want you bent over this sink.”

Oh, fuck. This is really happening.

You nod at him, gulping down harshly as you shuffle your body towards the edge of the sink until your ass is to the very edge of it, pressing the tips of your toes against the floor as you hop off of it. Granted, you nearly collapse, not having anticipated the force of your orgasm to leave you incapable of standing on your own, but, thankfully, your tight grip on the rim keeps you standing.

Nikolai lets out a huff of amusement at the sight, making no move to assist you as you awkwardly turn yourself around while still holding onto the edge, legs wobbling and shaking as you stand in front of the sink. Now, with the change in position, you can truly see just how fucked-out you look in the mirror, just like your friends had been once before on the chance that you saw them before they left tonight.

Your hair’s a mess, strands stringing out in every direction, fuzzy with static, and your lips are completely swollen and bruised from how hard Nikolai kissed you. Drool dribbles past the side of your mouth and down your chin, eyes red from unshed tears, pupils blown out and darker than you ever would have imagined they would be. You look like an entirely different person in some ways, but in others, you look exactly the same.

But Nikolai doesn’t exactly have time for you to admire yourself in the mirror, so, with a grumble, he takes a step forward, moving his hand to your upper back, seemingly sweet and intimate with his actions, before roughly pressing you down against the sink, your nipples coming into contact with the cold surface of it, making you moan out and shiver. With his free hand, he pulls your panties down to your thighs, ensuring they won’t be in the way or an issue, before moving his hand back to hold onto his cock.

“You can admire yourself when you’re wrapped around me, лапушка. I gave you a command, so… I expect you to listen to it. Поняла?”

He kicks your feet further apart with his boots, gliding his hand down the expanse of your back and moving your shirt up the slightest bit so he can admire your ass. He taps his cock against the curve of your ass, obsessed with the wet sound it makes, letting out a deep, gutteral groan as he trails his tip along it lazily, tilting his head to the side. His thumb gently caresses the skin, rubbing up and down in a small area before suddenly removing it, only to bring it down with a harsh smack against it.

The sensation makes you lurch forward, yelping out loudly, completely caught off guard, not having expected it in the slightest. As much as you want to say that you don’t like it… the way that your cunt clenches around nothing in anticipation combined with the breathless moan you let out is undeniable. It’s an easy indication of your desires and how much you truly enjoy the sting it leaves behind on your ass.

“I said поняла?”

Nikolai growls out, breath fanning along your neck as you hear his voice right next to your ear, his hand pressing down into your lower back to support himself as he lines himself up with your entrance, bringing his tip to glide up and down through your folds, the squelching sound it makes causing you both to shutter in anticipation. You let out a pitiful whine at the feeling, one that earns you another harsh smack against your other cheek, forcing tears to your eyes.

“I don’t know Rus-”

He doesn’t even let you finish your words before he’s plunging his cock into you, pressing through your entrance and bottoming out in one swift thrust, enveloping himself in your soaked heat.

“Ебена мать!”

Nikolai curses out, muffling himself as he bites down hard enough on his bottom lip to taste blood. The squeeze of your tight pussy around him is enough to make him feel lightheaded and dizzy, gasping as he takes in a shuttering breath and pressing his forehead between your shoulderblades as he pants.

He fills you up completely with his cock, stretching your already sore cunt far past its limits as his tip presses against your cervix. Your eyes are forced to screw shut tightly as you try to grasp onto anything, but, alas, the countertop that spreads out along the edge of the sink is completely smooth, leaving you helpless.

You dig your fingers into your palms as a solution, your knuckles turning white as you press your forehead against the cool surface, trying desperately to ground yourself as a means to combat the stinging pain that comes with the stretch. The sensation is overwhelming, with all of your nerves feeling as if they’ve been lit ablaze.

It makes you want to writhe—to wriggle yourself out of his hold and scramble away from just how much it aches and burns. But, as you wait, your breath coming out in strained, stuttered breaths, you realize that he isn’t moving whatsoever. He keeps himself buried inside of you, completely still, his chest pressed against your back, as he breathes in with considerable effort and breathes out with just as much strain.

So, as the both of you lay there waiting for the pain to subside, you’re able to focus on and enjoy the feeling and be completely and utterly full. When Nikolai had his fingers inside of you earlier, you thought that that sensation was the most full you were going to feel. But, with the way that his cock leaves no extra space inside of you, filling you to the brim in a way where you can feel him bulging out against your tummy, you realize how enjoyable the sensation is.

It’s intimate and almost comforting, in a way, to have someone fill you up completely.

So, as you lie there, focusing on that sensation, you can feel that initial discomfort and overwhelmingness dissipate, leaving you solely with that fullness. It feels good, you come to find out, much better than anything you’ve ever felt before, and all you can think about is how much better you know that Nikolai can make it. So, you choose to gently press your ass back into him, taking him in impossibly deeper and giving him the subtle indication that you’re ready.

You feel him suck in a sharp breath that fands out against your skin. In a slow, fluid motion, he draws his hips back, pulling his cock out far enough that only the tip of it is left inside of you, before giving a gentle thrust to his hips and plunging himself back into you. The two of you moan out simultaneously, the sound he makes being more of a groan in nature and yours more of a whine, feeling the way he moves his hand to hold at your waist.

“Nik…” You whine out to him, your voice cracking into breathlessness as you feel him thrust slowly in and out of, the desire to beg for more threatening to pass through your lips, but the harsh squeeze he gives to either of your hips shuts you up instantly, listening to the way he strains to breathe and speak, rolling his hips with each thrust, ensuring he can get as deep inside of you as he can, his tip brushing against your cervix each time without fail.

Nikolai lets out a particularly heavy breath, grunting as he snaps his hips with a bit more force into you. Steadily, he begins to pick up speed with each in and out of his cock, much to your delight, losing himself in the wet, squishy noises it makes with the motion.

“I am going to fucking ruin you. Mold you to my cock so that nobody will ever be able to make you feel as good as I do.”

He mumbles it out, primarily to himself, even though you can clearly hear it, standing up and leaning back slightly. He lazily turns his head to the side, eyes focused on the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing with each thrust he makes, trailing up the length of your back and looking into the mirror, getting to witness it from a different perspective. The vision makes his cock twitch inside of you, forcing another groan out of him.

Taking one of his hands away from your hip, Nikolai reaches it upwards, finding the base of your neck, fingers splaying out as they cup the back of your head, before reaching forwards, tangling themselves into the strands of your hair, and pulling. The motion forces your back to arch, your head lifting away from the expanse of the sink, your eyes boring into… your own, the mirror giving you a perfect view of yourself.

Jaw slack, drool dripping past your lips, tongue out, eyes blown wide, hair a mess of strands, tits out, bent over with the prettiest sounds freely falling from your lips as you get fucked from behind in a shitty bar bathroom by a man you’ve barely met an hour ago. Nikolai takes in the same scene, his eyes watching yours as you focus on yourself, grunting out with each thrust, shamelessly making noise to properly translate just how much he’s enjoying this.

“But you would like that, да? To be unable to enjoy anyone else fucking you because I’m the one who took you first.”

Another slap to your ass leaves you reeling, your eyes rolling back into your head as he thrusts himself in deep, snapping his hips with a roughness that forces the air out of your lungs before you can even take in another breath. You feel him readjust his grip on your hair, forcing your back to arch even further as he growls, bouncing you along the length of his cock as he fucks into you with vigor.

The coil that resides in your lower stomach begins to slowly but surely tighten with each thrust, accompanied by your own pathetic moaning, whining, and keening—those beautiful tears falling down the length of your face without anything to hold them back. Your eyes glisten, flickering away from your own expression as you opt to watch his own, seeing the way he bites onto his bottom lip to hold back his moans and whines, even as he fails to do so without any resistance.

“Such a desperate whore for my cock, aren’t you? It is amusing how you’ve never had sex yet act like a slut.” Nikolai coos out cruelly, emphasizing his words with a particular harsh thrust that has you drooling, letting his own hand grip at your waist as he pulls you back into each thrust, ensuring he bottoms out each and every time without fail. The obscene sound of his balls slapping against your soaked, sticky cunt fills the air. You can feel his tip slam against that spongey spot on your inner walls—the one that makes your toes curl and leaves you feeling boneless—and when he hears the sound you make, he’s relentless in focusing all of his attention right there.

God, it makes you see stars. You feel so unbelievably full in a way you’ve never felt before, each thrust of his thick, fat cock ripping the air from your lungs, leaving you sweaty and breathless. It’s overwhelming, yet in a way that makes you never want it to stop. Drool drips onto the counter from your tongue, hanging off in stringy globs, flicking back and forth with each thrust. You can feel yourself getting close, your walls closing in on him with a grip that leaves him groaning and growling, completely pussydrunk off of you as his eyes catch on to all of the different telltale signs he’s coming to learn from you.

The way your eyelids twitch when your eyes roll back, the way your whole body tenses up with anticipation, and the way your noises get so much higher pitched

He’s never letting you go after this, he decides. Nobody is going to get to have you once he’s done with you—once he’s claimed you. He was your first, and he’d be damned if he let anyone other than himself be your second, your third, and so on and so forth.

“Come on, красивая вещь. Cum on my cock. You can do it.”

Nikolai growls out, his fingers bruising against the flesh of your waist as he holds on to tightly, as if you’d slip through his fingers if he were to loosen it, if only by a fraction. And you’ve learned from your lesson before that, being a smart girl and knowing to do what he says when he says it, so your body instinctively reacts to his command. Blinding, white-hot pleasure courses through your veins, ever nerve ending in your body, feeling like it’s on fire when you gush around him. You feel your entire body go rigid with tension,your, heart stopping for a moment, unable to breathe or see from just how hard you cum.

Oh, you feel like jelly. If you thought you were boneless before, the way his grip on your hair is the only thing keeping you up right now really shows you what “bonelessness” feels like. 

Your entire body convulses, spasming and twitching and jerking you as you fight the overstimulation of him still ruthlessly pounding into your pussy, whining and keening as you babble out incoherently at him, everything making you so dizzy with pleasure. Nikolai himself isn’t that much farther behind you, the squeeze of your pussy bringing him teetering over the edge, barely able to pull out in time with a strained grunt of your name as hot, thick cum spurts from his twitching cock.

Ropes of it leak from his cock, painting pretty white lines against your ass as he groans out gutturally, leaning his head back as he basks in his own pleasure. He pants out heavy, each breath strained with effort as he blinks, chest heaving as he struggles to regain control over his own breathing, letting his eyes drop back down to admire the scene before him. There’s this dazed, lopsided smile that’s spread out across your lips, your eyes glazed over with ecstasy, just like before, but the difference in seeing your fucked-out face cockdrunk off of him. Oh, that just makes it all the better.

He blinks a few times, his jaw slack as he swallows down his own saliva and pants, his hand moving to smear his cum messily along your ass, rubbing it into your skin as if it were lotion. He knows it’ll stick to his own clothes if he does, but he can’t help himself nor care as he leans himself against you, bending over you, allowing himself to rest his forehead between your shoulder blades as his body comes down from such an intense high.

Seeing you like this, having you like this… it’s something he doubts he could ever leave.

His breaths come into sync with your own; the steady breathing, lungs filling with air, and breathing out, expelling all of that air, is an action that the both of you focus on as one, uncaring about anything else but this moment. You feel him mumble something against your back, unable to make it out through the haze of your afterglow, unable to hear all the whispers of praise he allocates to you, pressing gentle kisses against your shirt.

The moment is undeniably intimate, something you may not suspect from him, especially given the way that he treated you. But it makes sense, the way he has this imposing and overwhelmingly dominating persona that he leans on, yet can be equally caring and loving when the situation requires it. It’s a delicate balance that he maintains, further proving the extents of his own control, both over his partners and himself, and you can’t help but appreciate and admire it.

But unfortunately, the calm atmosphere that begins to settle between the two of you is so rudely interrupted by the sound of multiple harsh, sharp poundings against the door to the bathroom. Even though the door remains locked, which, thank God, Nikolai had done, the handle still gets jiggled with haste. Muffled, barely audible conversation can be heard happening from beyond the door, but it doesn’t seem like, according to your actions, that each of you cares all that much.

“Nikolai! Hurry up in there. If you don’t come out soon, we’re taking your truck back and leaving you here.”

A gruff, deep Scouse accent barks out, muffled only by the barrier of the wooden bathroom door that continues to shake from the sheer force of the pounding the knocks have been making against it. Nikolai groans out with a mixture of frustration and annoyance against the fabric of your shirt, still working to catch his breath as his pants begin to slow down, the heat of them seeping through the fabric and sticking to your skin.

“Maybe I should let him…” He mumbles out for only you to hear, his palm gently rubbing up and down the curve of your ass, working to soothe that ache that lingers from his harsh, sharp smacks. He presses a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades, trailing his lips upwards as he follows your spine and the curve of your neck, leading him to make his way to press them along the edge of your jawline. The sensation makes you let out a shuttering breath, which is uneven and shaky in nature.

The afterglow of your orgasm still lingers, mixing in with the dull ache left behind by the rough way he treated your cunt, your mind hazy as it swirls with pleasure, focusing on those sensations and nothing else, not even his words. You let out a soft hum in response, still fucked out and dumb without a single thought occupying the space in your head, not even knowing what it is exactly that you’re acknowledging. It makes him chuckle.

“Good first time; I take it, then?” He muses smugly, knowing full well that you won’t be able to give him a proper answer. But, with the look that shines behind your eyes and the state that he’s left you in, he doesn’t even have to ask that question to know the answer to it. 

So, with a heavy and reluctant sigh, pressing one last kiss to your jawline, he pulls himself back. Gently, he moves to rest your head back down against the sink, turning his gaze downward as he tucks his softening cock back into his boxers. He pulls back up his pants, re-buttoning and zipping them, and fastening his belt through the loops. He composes himself after doing so, smoothing down his clothes and checking himself in the mirror. 

Well, as composed as a man who just fucked can, you guess. Then he moves on to you. He presses gently kisses along your exposed skin, helping your boneless form readjust your bra and pull down your shirt, pulling back up your panties and pants, ensuring they’re all situated as he gives you a once-over from behind, pulling you against him as he checks you out in the mirror in front of you. A kiss is pressed to the side of your neck as he looks at you in the mirror, his eyes still half-lidded and a smirk adorning his lips.

“Come on, лапушка. Focus. It will be hard to walk if your legs don’t work, да?”

He teases lightheartedly, helping bring you back to reality as he helps you stand, your knees buckling instantly, but he never lets go of you once, remaining patient as the pins and needles slowly but surely dissipate, and you’re able to stand on your own, finally able to string a sentence together and cultivate coherent thoughts Still leaning into him, even if you don’t need his support anymore, you let out a soft whine laced with disapproval.

He hums, wordlessly acknowledging you.

"I don't want you to go." You complain, drawing out the last syllable as you voice out your thoughts to him, not at all ready to depart and go back by yourself. To, quite possibly and realistically, never see him again once he leaves. You aren’t ready for that, as selfish as it might be to admit. He chuckles at your words, not out of malice but out of loving amusement, gently turning you around so that you’re facing him, tilting your head up with one of his fingers curled under your chin. 

“Well… I suppose my comrades can find their own way home, don’t you think? They’re capable enough. You, however…”

He trails off with a chuckle, wordlessly acknowledging your state with raised eyebrows and a shit-eating grin, to which you can only whine out into the air between you both, clearly not amused as he is by his words. But once you’re actually able to register what he means by that, you look up at him with parted lips, that dumb expression still on your face, but now it’s more endearing than anything.

He leans forward, the scruff of his facial hair scratching gently against your skin as he presses a kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger around the area for a few moments before ultimately pulling back.

“Let me take you home. You might have lost your virginity, but… that was only in one position. I think it’s only fair I help you lose it in all of them, don’t you think?”

It’s cocky and overwhelmingly confident—exactly what made you turn down the others who had tried their luck convincing you to have sex with them earlier in the night—but, coming from Nikolai, it’s a trait of his that has you hooked. Be it good or bad, you can’t find any part of yourself that’s inclined to refuse his open offer. So, with a dopey, lopsided smile that spreads out across your lips, you nod, accepting.

Because he’s right: it’s only fair.

Умница - smart girl

апушка - sweetheart

Нет - no

Да - yes

Поняла - understand

Ебена мать - holy shit

Красивая вещь - beautiful thing