#can't get more fucking lethal than that!

[cypher2]

[dont-open-dead-inside-25]

the thing that pisses me off the most about the death penalty is that it's so needlessly cruel. we have painless ways to kill people, so why aren't we using them?

[ms-spkhd]

Robin plucks a fry from the container and dunks it into her vanilla milkshake. "Look, I'm probably the last person you should ask about this."

Steve frowns. "Who else, then?"

"I don't know, Eddie?"

"Nope, no, absolutely not." Shaking his head emphatically, Steve swipes the fry from Robin's fingers. He stuffs it into his mouth in frustration.

"Hey, what the fuck!"

"I can't ask Eddie because he's the problem," Steve says through a mouthful of fries.

"I thought the problem is that you're gay now."

Steve levels her with a lethal stare and Robin rolls her eyes. She can't believe that this is fucking happening to her. "I'm not gay. At least fully. I like girls."

"Okay--" Robin throws her hands in the air in exasperation. "So you can't consult Eddie because, what? He's the one who turned you gay?"

"Half gay?"

"Fuck it, half gay, I guess. You like Eddie and you want to ask him out but you can barely figure yourself out."

"There's gotta be a word for that, right?" Steve asks. Robin blinks at him. He blinks back with equal fervor as she reaches for another fry and swirls it into her milkshake. "Come on, you're a lesbian, you gotta know this."

Robin groans before taking a bite into her ice cream fry. "Just because I'm a lesbian doesn't mean I have any authority on this."

"You gotta know more than I do, at least."

"Okay, I'm gonna level with you, Steve. I like boobs. I know that there's a word for a girl liking boobs because assholes like to sling it around"--Steve opens his mouth to interject--"but, just because, I'm more learned than those assholes doesn't mean I know shit about dip. Sure, I like foreign films and listen to Patti Smith, but I don't know anything about the larger concepts. I'm not your guru on this."

Steve frowns. Bites his lip and pinches his nose. "No, you're right."

"I don't know anything about guys liking other guys, and I guess there's gotta be something that defines your predicament, but we're two dingbats living in the middle of nowhere. We don't have a roadmap or anything."

You know, for the longest time, Robin thought she would be alone in all this. She remembers pressing her face into the pillow and sobbing until the whole damn thing became moist with puddles of tears and snot, because no one would ever understand the way she really felt. She'd have to pretend for the rest of her life.

When she grew older, she knew that one day, she was gonna run off to the city and find girls like her who would get it. But she's never been able to go to the city for herself, couldn't afford a license or a car, so it was just her. Lonely Robin Buckley who loved girls who didn't even think of her.

But Steve's looking back at her now the same way he looked at her in the bathroom back at Starcourt and he's asking her how to live his own life. Fuck, she doesn't even know how to start hers yet.

"You know," she says, swallowing, "one day we'll figure it out. You and I."

Steve cocks an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Figure out the mysteries of the universe and everything?"

Robin chuckles and tosses a fry in Steve's direction. She says, "How about we figure out how you'll woo Eddie first, tiger."

[porcelainpot]

It takes a long time before you leave your den again, the small cave proving to be a cage, as Soap so graciously called it, for not only them but you too, even if sometimes it can be considered your little heaven too.

It's not that you don't want to leave, it has been at least three hours since Soap had gotten himself too close for comfort, riling you up enough that you almost forgot to keep distance for the both of you.

No, it's not that.

It's that you're fucking terrified and you don't want to admit it.

You have watched and analyzed them all enough to understand that he has a weird sense of flirting and is more feral than what he looks, if his stunt a few hours ago wasn't proof of that, then the way he would usually do the same with other mer, prey mer, or fishes is proof of how he gets off on doing it.

You look at yourself, your fins, your tail, beautiful oranges and whites decorating the venomous spines that serve as hunting and protective tools. Or that should be their purpose, if it wasn't for the lack of poison they had.

They do work for hunting and to protect yourself, but the thing is that they're not lethal at all, if only, the supposed venom is more of anesthetic.

Instead of causing pain, it makes the prey, and predators, lose feeling on their limbs, starting from where the location of the sting and then it spreads, just like the venom should work. You know this, which is why you never correct them about how poisonous you are, because you aren't. You just work as a type of numbing tool.

Everyone would have a field, especially Soap, so it's not like you'll ever tell them and keep your distance away. In the end it's more for your protection than theirs.

Your belly rumbles and you scrunch up your nose, you're hungry, not having really thought of eating since hours ago because you were enjoying Ghost's company and also the fact you were not hungry at all.

But now here you are, and thanks to someone called fucking Soap, you can't find it in yourself to go out and hunt, because what if he's out there? What if he tries to do the same again?

Surely not, Ghost already made him go back to their reef to go bother Gaz or Price, maybe even take a nap but that doesn't deter you.

Your fins and spikes have been flared all these hours and it's starting to hurt a bit with how tense your muscles are. It makes you want to tear out something, to sink your teeth on his shoulder, to grab his face and stab your spikes against his skin until they pierce it to watch him go limp and sink on the sand, unable to move.

You shake your head, clawing at the sand to get rid of those thoughts. He would probably like it, might even fantasize about it if you think enough, he looks like he would. More so at the glee to show he was right, that you're not dangerous as he thought and that's exactly why.

A shiver goes down your spine at his words, at the fact he thought he could break your spines, it has panic raising up your throat before you shake your head and calm down. No, no he wouldn't.

At least you try to think that. (Oh, but he would, how else would you end up with them? That way you wouldn't be able to protect yourself, but they could keep you safe and to themselves.)

Your nerves are too fried to calm down, today you probably won't go out hunting until you've calmed down, the thought of finding Ghost at night causes an uncomfortable feeling in your chest.

He stopped Soap, that's fine, good even, at least one of the two has a sense of safety even if he doesn't regard you as a predator like him (although the cause of it barely counts as a threat). Not like you need his approval, you're not friends, far from it, just acquaintances at best. That only makes your decision of hunting at night more difficult.

You sigh, curling up onto yourself. You can skip a day or two of not hunting, it's fine. You can sleep most of it away.

-

You wake up again by the sound of something swimming around your small reef, you barely catch it, with sleep clouding your mind still after sleeping all day. You swim closer to the small gaps of your small den, just to take a peek.

It's Ghost, because of course he is. The mer likes to hunt at night, but it's weird that he's outside your small cave at this hour, by now he should be far away looking for food.

"Wha?"

"Come outside." He commands, it makes you frown, why would you do that? It's late and you're tired.

"No. I'm sleeping." You mumble, unconsciously leaning a bit closer to look at him better through the small space.

Your spikes are all relaxed, finally, muscles sore from your body being alert for so long. You're in no position to speak properly, sleep heavy and worsened by the lack of food, trying to make it up for the lack of energy.

Ghost hums, something low and quiet it almost makes you think it was your mind playing tricks on you if you weren't looking at him through half lidded eyes.

"Come on. I got you something, pretty fish." His voice is low and thick, honeyed, as sweet as someone with a gruff and heavy voice could do, to make you come out.

The pet name has you a bit hooked, and the sight of the actual fish on his hand after he presents it has you fully out of your home. You swim towards him, towards the food actually, and reach for it.

You're too tired to even eat it, but you still inspect it, you have to check it's worth and duplicate it tomorrow so you two are even, even in your half-asleep state your mind knows what to do for someone who even gifts you something. You don't like owning anything to anyone.

Ghost looks at you closely, as close as he dares to be given your current situation.

You're half asleep, any word or action he does could either make you react badly and stab him with those beautiful spines you got or have you still be pliant in his presence.

You're an interesting little thing, gorgeous in looks and deadly in touch, he can understand Soap's infatuation with you but he knows how to handle mers like you, he might look disinterested but he already knows how to handle you well.

Ghost takes his opportunity to swim closer, amused when he noticed you curl up around the fish, not to eat it but because you fell asleep holding the food he got you, curled up around it.

"Pretty thing, nothing more than brash words huh?" He murmurs as he very softly cups his hand under you, eyes sharp and focused on your fins and tail, looking for a telltale of flaring spines or the flick of your ear fins.

You're quite small and pliant, colorful even in the darkness of their reef. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. You're lucky it's me and not Soap, the twat would be pricked as soon as he got you at hands reach."

Of course, you barely make a sound at that, scrunching up your nose before relaxing again and he takes the opportunity to run his thumb on your back, brushing his fingers through your fins and skin, careful to not touch your spines.

Ghost wonders if you're even aware of what he's doing, of how powerless you are right now, but he doesn't entertain the thought much when you star to stir again.

He lets you go as soon as your tail swishes, letting you blink and rub your eyes, looking around before squinting at him, saying a quick 'thanks' before swimming to your small den.

That's dangerous, don't you know you should be attentive at all times? Not every mer is as nice as he is right now.

With one last peek, he swims away to continue with his night routine, what he needed to do is done and he won't do more, you aren't his responsibility if you're not Price's responsibility.

Yet, anyways.

For now, your naps and quiet time together are enough for him, even if he has to look out for Soap.

[eddiesxangel]

Need You Now | Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Requested by @mmunson86 : Eddie and Reader were best friends who secretly liked each other, but then they went their separate ways after high school and kind of lost contact. one day, Eddie runs into Steve, who still talks to Reader, and after five years he realizes that he should’ve taken his shot and I don’t know maybe he has the urge to call her and instead he just shows up at her doorstep in the pouring rain he’s drenched in water, and he tells her how she feels and hopes that she does and well she does feel the same (Eddie finally asks her to be his girl) & well it gets smutttty 🥹💗 included the song Need you Now by Lady A

Cw: angst, mutual pining, friends to strangers to lovers, fluff, no use of y/n reader is referred to with nicknames (Peach, sweetheart, baby) smut, p in v, dirty talk, one mention of birth control, no use of condoms, creampies? Alchohol.

wc: 7.6k

comments and reblogs are always appreciated and encouraged <3

August 1984.

"So this is it, huh?" Eddie was completely taken aback by the suddenness of it all. He had known deep down that this day would eventually arrive, but it had always felt like a distant threat. Now that it was here, he struggled to come to terms with the fact that you were leaving him. You had always been ambitious, and he was incredibly proud of everything you had accomplished. But the thought of being left behind while you went on to bigger and better things was a tough pill to swallow. Despite his own feelings of loss and sadness, however, Eddie knew that he couldn't stand in the way of your dreams - he would never be the kind of person to hold someone back from reaching their full potential.

"Y-yeah." you sigh with shaky breath.

How could you leave him? The guilt gnawed at you because, even after everything, you never got to tell him how you felt. Now you are standing in the airport, feeling lost. It's too little, too late for confessionals.

Since you can remember, going to school in England has been your dream. You made it a mission and are now attending the University of Cambridge. You got in on a scholarship and scrapped up every penny working at Family Video for your four years of high school.

"You better write to me and all that shit" he pointed.

This made you giggle. "Of course, I'll even call once in a while. Hopefully, the long-distance charges won't be too lethal." You play with the chain hanging from your neck. You never took it off.

"Oh! I almost forgot... here!." Eddie rummaged around his pockets and pulled out a small wrapped gift. "Uh, open it when you get there, okay?"

"Teddy, you didn-"

"I wanted to. Please? Just take it." Eddie’s heart fluttered at your name of endearment.

You reach for the gift, fingers brushing, and you swear you feel sparks fly. You instantly jump into him, arms wrapping around his neck, taking in his feel, scent, and touch. Fuck this hurts more than you thought it would. But you kept telling yourself it wouldn't be forever, only four years; you could survive that. And you would be home in the summers. It wouldn't be so bad.

Tears threaten to fall as they rim your lashes. "I'll miss you," you sniffle, and your voice cracks.

It breaks Eddie's heart to see you like this. You were his girl, well, not technically, but you had his heart. You had it from the first moment he saw you in ninth-grade science when you were assigned to be his lab partner. From then on, you were as thick as thieves; if only you felt the same way...

"All passengers for flight 739, please make your way to gate 67; you are now boarding." Your heart sinks at the announcement; that was you. No more stalling.

You turn to your parents, giving them another tight hug, then quickly turn to Eddie again. You hug him once more, as tight as you can this time.

"You're squishing me, Peach. Can't. Breath." He jokes, and you look up at him with glossy eyes.

You reach up to your tiptoes, kiss his stubbly cheek and mutter the words he has been waiting to hear for the past four years. "I love you, Eddie."

Eddie was stunned, did he hear you correctly? You don't give him time to answer because you quickly turn without another word, not giving him a chance to speak, and you run. You run to the gate and don't look back.

For most of the flight, your mind was racing. You couldn't help but feel like a coward. Your mind was racing with questions and doubts. What if Eddie misunderstood your words as just platonic love? Or would he understand that you were actually in love with him?

You sat on the plane, staring at the gift box Eddie handed you. It was a small black square box with a red bow. Nothing fancy.

Once you were over international waters, you decided you couldn't wait anymore and opened it up.

As you slowly lift the lid, the tears start to well up in your eyes again. Your heart is pounding as you peer inside the small box and handwritten note and a silver mood ring were nestled inside. You reach in and carefully pick up the note and begin to read.

Dear, Peach

I am going to miss you so much, so here is a small token to remember me by…

Your Teddy.

You sniffle as you pick up the ring and hold it up to the overhead light to get a better look.

You turn it over in your fingers, examining every detail, trying to confirm whether or not this was Eddie's ring. It looks exactly like the one he wore daily, but you can't be sure. You had never seen him without it before? You try to think about if he had it on at the airport.

As you examine the ring, memories of Eddie flood your mind. You remember how he constantly fiddled with it, absentmindedly twisting it around his finger. You remember how he told you it was his mother's ring and how much it meant to him. But now, as you hold it in your hand, you can't believe he did this.

You try to slide it onto your fingers, but it's too loose to stay in place. You don't want to give up on the ring, though. It's too precious to lose. Suddenly, a thought strikes you, and you take off your necklace. You carefully latch the ring onto the chain, ensuring its security. You can keep it close to your heart as you wear it around your neck...

Now, 1991

"Peach?!” You jump and turn; you were startled when browsing the chips section at the Dollar Store. “Holy shit, it is you!"

"Steve?" You smile brightly and embrace him in a hug when you realize who is speaking to you. Not even twenty-four hours back home, and you’re already bumping into old friends. You had forgotten how small Hawkins really was.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" he asked with a bright smile across his face.

"Brian-you remember my brother Brian? He's getting married, had to come back for the wedding." You smile.

"When did you get back?! Have you seen anyone? Oh god, everyone is going to be thrilled." He hugged you again for good measure to make sure it was really you.

"I got back late last night; I'm still jetlagged, so I haven't seen or reached out to anyone yet... I don't think I have anyone's numbers anymore; it's been so long..." You felt so guilty. Your life in Hawkins was worlds away. You had been so busy once you graduated. You hadn't been home in about four years; visiting you was easier for your folks.

"I'll alert the media; I'll be the town crier! Let everyone know Peach is back!"

"Thanks, Stevie," you giggled.

"How long are you in town for?"

"Ummm, that's the thing; I think I am back for good?" Sure, you loved being overseas, but seven years was so long you missed your life back home, your family, your friends, and your visa was running out.

"This is amazing! Oh, we have to all get together to celebrate!"

"How um- how is everyone?"

"Good! Robin and I are roommates, Nancy and Jonathan are still going strong, Dustin, Mike, Lucas and Will, El and Max are off at their different colleges..."

"What, uh-what about Eddie?" You hadn't mutter his name in years. Things fell off like they did with everyone else. You used to write almost every day, but then school, friends, and boyfriends happened, and eventually, the letters stopped altogether.

The two of you never spoke of the "I love you" statement you made at the airport. You tiptoed around it like it didn't happen. Sometimes, you wished you had stayed to hear what he would have said, and other times, you were glad you ran. You took the hint that he didn't feel the same way when he never said anything back in his letters or the few times you called him.

"Oh, Ed's is great! Yeah, he has his own shop downtown; you know how good he was with fixing cars and all that. He got promoted a few months back when Richards decided to retire..." You smile at the thought of Eddie finally owning up to his potential.

"Oh, well, um, that's amazing! I really missed you guys." You sighed, subconsciously playing with the ring attached to the chain around your neck. You hadn't taken it off in the seven years you had been away.

"Well, I better get going, but I'll call you, ok?"

"Yeah, I'm with my folks for now until I find an apartment, so same number,” you smiled.

When you leave Steve, your mind can't help but race with thoughts of seeing Eddie again. Seven years is a really long time; would he still have his long hair? Would he have a girlfriend? Oh god, what if he has a girlfriend? Of course, he would have a girlfriend. He's Eddie. He is the most flirtatious guy out there; there is no way he would be sitting around waiting for you. Not that he would be waiting for you... he never said those three words back.

It's been less than twenty-four hours since you've been back in Hawkins, and yet your thoughts are consumed by memories of him. The sound of his voice echoes in your mind as if you had heard him yesterday... The way he laughed, the way he walked, and the way he used to look at you. His presence has left an everlasting mark on your psyche, and you can't help but wonder what he's doing right now, whether he's thinking about you too, or if you'll ever see him again.

Your stuff was all over the new apartment. You managed to score a place not too far from everyone, and it only took about a week and a half to find, sign and finalize a place to live.

The living room was filled with countless cardboard boxes, each one crammed with different items from your childhood home and England.

As you rummaged through them, your attention was suddenly grasped by a photo album that had been buried deep inside one of the boxes. It took you by surprise - I had completely forgotten about it. As you held it in your hands, you couldn't help but feel a rush of nostalgia and curiosity, wondering what picture-perfect memories were inside.

You grabbed your drink from the side table and crawled on the messy couch covered in old newspapers and bubble wrap. Pictures of you with the gang, in the Wheelers basement, at lovers lake, in the trailer…

Memories of late nights, early morning school pick ups, dnd creation sessions, forcible study sessions that ended up just you two talking for hours on end, Eddie making you fall for him and him you with neither of you were the wiser.

The phone ringing breaks you out of the trance. You scramble up off the couch the photo album falls off your lap and onto the floor as you scurry over to the phone mounted on the wall.

“Hello?” Nice to know the phone company installed it correctly.

“Hey! It’s Steve, how are you?”

“Good, just settling in; my place is a mess,” you giggle.

“Good, good. We are all getting together on Friday; maybe you can take a break from unpacking? We thought it would be nice to meet at my folk's place, old time's sake.” you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You hesitated. “Is, um, everyone going to be there?”

"Yep! Folks are out of town; we can use the pool to put advantage. Everyone is so excited you're back" emphasis on everyone.

“That’s great, Steve; I’m happy to be home, glad no one hates me," you chuckle uncomfortably. "I was kinda worried since I fell off the face of the earth...”

“Nah, we could never be mad at you.”

“Okay then! I’ll see you guys Friday,” you smile. Oblivious to the fact that none of your friends knew you were in town…

“So Stevie, what’s got you bouncing off the walls?” Robin asked.

It was Friday, and Steve had everyone already over for an hour before your arrival.

They had no idea you were back because Steve wanted to tell everyone simultaneously. So he invited Nancy, Jonathan, and Eddie so he could share the big news.

“Yea, you’re killing us, man,” Jonathan smirked.

“Okay, okay, okay! Everyone sit down.” Steve instructed. “So I was out running some errands, and you’re never going to guess who I ran into!”

“Vicki?” Robin asked.

“Nooo.”

“Chrissy?”

“Nope.”

“Max?”

“Nope, guess again.”

“Lucas?”

Amidst the incessant guessing, Eddie's mind drifted away to a memory of you. He pictured you walking through the front door with that enchanting smile you always had on your face. The sound of your voice was etched in his mind as if he had heard it only yesterday. His heart yearned for you, how you used to take over his whole world and light up his day with your infectious energy and captivating aura.

Just as Eddie is about to get lost in his thoughts of you, the doorbell snaps him back into reality.

“You uh expecting anymore else man?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, you uh mind grabbing the door for me?” Steve was up to something, and Eddie could sense it. Maybe Dustin was home early?

“Why? Are you busy or something?”

“Yea, 'bout to get the pool ready..” he winks.

With his suspicions, Eddie tentatively stands and reaches the door. Behind him, in the distance, he hears Nancy, “Oh my god, shut up!” He must have shared the mystery person while he was out of war shot… jackass.

With his heart racing, he took the last few steps towards the door. His curiosity was piqued, and he felt a sense of anticipation building up inside him, wondering who could possibly be waiting on the other side. As he jogged, he could hear his own footsteps echoing in the hallway. Finally, he reached for the doorknob, ready to discover the mystery person on the other side.

You rang the doorbell once again… what had been taking so long?

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, hold your horses-” Eddie swung open the door without any hesitation as he was in the middle of his sentence. However, his words trailed off when he saw you standing on the other side.

“Hey, Teddy” you smiled as your heart pounded. It was pumping so hard he could probably see it beating through your chest.

“Oh my god.” Eddie looked like he had seen a ghost. The blood drained from his face. His eyes are wide with shock. Did Steve not tell him? “Oh my god!” You were suddenly knocked off your feet as Eddie's weight collided with yours.

“Hi,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around him.

"Peach?" It took him a second to process. “Holy shit, you’re here!” He spun you around before putting you down.

“Did Steve not tell you?” As you slowly stepped back, your eyes fixed on his face.

His once baby-smooth skin now bore a few fine lines, a testament to the life he had lived. Life was never kind to Eddie, but he held on to hope. His facial hair added a more mature rugged charm to the baby face you once knew. You couldn't help but admire the beauty that was Eddie Munson.

You also couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off your face and Eddie was so thankful because he had never been witness to something so beautiful.

“No! Oh my god! No, he didn’t tell us anything.” He couldn’t let you go; he needed to feel you to convince himself he wasn’t seeing things. You smelled just as he remembered, but also sweeter.

“She’s back?!” You hear Robin's voice coming from far inside the house. That made you giggle, and Eddie heard angels singing.

The loud sound of footsteps fills your ears, and you see Robin running towards the door. She bulldozes her way past Eddie and engulfs you in a suffocating hug.

“How long are you here?!” She squealed.

“For good!” You smile as you see Nancy and Jonathan run out after Robin.

“What?! You’re back forever?!” Nancy came running out the door

“Yes, forever!” You smile, glancing over at Eddie.

Eddie needed to process everything and stepped back so everyone else could say their long-awaited hellos.

He missed you so badly; of course, he tried to move on, but nothing was the same. Feeling overwhelmed by the avalanche of information he had just received, Eddie needed a moment to gather his thoughts. With a smile, he excused himself from the room and went through the house to the backyard.

The warm afternoon breeze hit his face as he leaned against the deck railing. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air. He reached into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, and with a flick of his lighter, he lit one up. As he took a long first drag, he closed his eyes and let his mind wander, hoping to find clarity amid the chaos because you were back.

He hadn’t been out there for two minutes, barely making a dent in the cigarette, when he heard the sliding glass door open and close behind him.

“Hey, you okay, man?” It was Steve.

“Yeah, yeah, just in shock, I guess...” He took a long drag of the cigarette and blew the puffs of smoke in the other direction, away from Steve's face.

“She looks good, huh?.” Steve smirked as he also leaned back against the railing next to Eddie.

"Yeah, uh yea really good" He tried releasing his tense shoulders, but it was of no use.

"I didn't see a ring on her finger… but I did see one around her neck… looked familiar too.”

"What?” Eddie’s head snapped up.

“See for yourself.”

You were now in the kitchen, facing him through the window. Clear as day your exposed chest dawned his ring.

What did this mean?

"Looks like now's your chance." Steve clapped his back.

"It's been so long… things are- I don't know, things just won't be the same. Too much time has passed."

"That's why I say seize the day!"

"Don't Carpe Diem me," Eddie scoffed.

"Well, you better because there is no way I’m going to let someone else swoop in and snatch her up because you’re too dumb to say you love her back." In a swift motion, Steve reached out and plucked the cigarette from Eddie's lips, brought it up to his own mouth, took a long drag, and savoured the taste of the smoke. As he exhaled, he brought the cigarette back down and carefully stubbed it in the ashtray, snuffing out every last bit of ember. The two friends sat silently for a moment, lost in their thoughts.

"Don’t fuck this up again,” he smirked before slipping back inside with the others.

Your gaze automatically finds Eddie as you make your way out the door and into the yard, it was a pool party after all. You even bought a new swimsuit for the occasion because you wanted to make an impression on Eddie. He hadn't seen you since you were no more than a few weeks older than eighteen, when you were still awkward and pimply. Now at twenty-five, you’ve come into your body, and you looked fucking good.

You knew that your body had changed considerably since you were a teenager, and you wanted to look your best.

So when you went shopping you settled on a navy blue option with little white anchors, cute without trying too hard, or so you hoped. It accentuated all of your best assets.

Confidently, you let the shawl slip down your shoulders. Eddie felt like you were moving slowly as he watched you bend over to remove your jean shorts.

If Eddie didn't know any better, he'd think you were doing it intentionally. His hands were getting sweaty, and he needed to tighten his grip on the beer bottle so it wouldn't slip. You made him nervous; you were beautiful, elegant, and not to mention sexy, even more so than he remembered.

As you reach out to grab the drink from Robin's hand, you can sense Eddie's intense gaze fixed on you. Robin, who seems oblivious to the brewing tension, turns around and walks towards the pool chairs where Eddie, Steve, Jonathan and Nancy are lounging. You watch as Robin joins the trio, leaving you standing alone, wondering what Eddie's piercing stare could possibly mean. With a deep breath, you take a swig and join your group of friends.

Like a flip of a switch, Eddie's face softens when he sees you coming towards them. He takes in your body the closer you get. As soon as he caught a glimpse of you, his heart began to race uncontrollably. He couldn't believe how stunning you looked, and his eyes were immediately drawn to his ring that adorned your necklace.

You watched as Eddie gazed at you with admiration. It was like he was noticing every detail about you. Memorizing you - the way your hair cascaded over your shoulders, the sparkle in your eyes, the curve of your lips as you smiled. Eddie always knew how to make you feel special, even with just a look.

"Here, you can take mine." Eddie gets up. Alwasy the gentalman.

"No, it's okay. They are big enough we can share." You smile as you lay out your towel to sit at the end of the long white chair.

Conversations about everyone and how they have been lasted about an hour before you decided it was way too hot to not take advantage of the pool. While living in England, you have had to endure the cool and damp weather. It's such a contrast to the hot and humid summers that you grew up with in Hawkins. The scorching heat can sometimes get unbearable, yet a refreshing change from the gloomy weather back in England.

"I'm going in if anyone wants to join me." You set down your sweaty glass and walk over to the pool. Nancy and Robin follow closely behind before you glance back at the boys.

“Hey, come in with us.” You offer with a smile.

You hear a splash from the pool and see the two other girls' heads bobbing up from under the water.

Steve and Jon nod their head while Eddie shakes his no.

“You sure?” You offer once more, raising your brow.

Once again, Eddie shakes his head no before the other two boys grab him by the arms and drag him to the water's edge.

You giggle before taking a graceful dive in to join your girlfriends. The three of you tread water as you watch the boys struggle from land.

"Hey! Come on, I still have my shirt on!" Eddie protested.

"Take it off!" Robin yelled, pulling another giggle from you.

"Oh you think seeing me shirtless is funny, Peach?" He quipped. He was kidding, of course, but you couldn't help to fight off the blood rushing to your cheeks.

Too flustered to reply, you don't say anything; however, the boys save you by throwing Eddie in the pool. You flinch away from the splash of water that gets in your eyes and wait for Eddie to come back up for air. You stare at the spot that he was thrown in, but he doesn't come back up.

"Eddie?" you ask, feeling a bit worried. However, as you are standing in the water, a feeling of terror fear overtakes you as something grabs your waist from below the surface and pulls you backwards. You let out a small scream, but quickly cover your mouth as you feel strong arms wrap around you, holding you close to their chest.

"Teddy, you idiot!" You play scream but also can't hold back your laughter as Eddie pops back up for air, trying to swim off with you in toe.

"What? I'm saving you from sharks." He shrugs like he is doing the most obvious thing in the world.

"God, you haven't changed a bit, have you?" You gaze into his eyes as he pinned you against the pool wall. You can’t help but take in his beauty.

"What is that a bad thing?" He cocks his head.

"N-not at all," Your breath hitches.

For a fleeting moment, you lose the sense of your surroundings. You forget about group's presence that is intently observing your and Eddie's every move. It's as if you are in a bubble, separate from the rest of the world. Your attention is drawn to the black t-shirt that now clings tightly to his wet body, accentuating every contour of his muscles in a way you hadn't noticed before. During your high school days, you remembered him as a lanky teenager.

Now, you noticed he had put on a lot of muscle mass. His chest was broad and well-defined, his biceps looked like they were about to burst out of his shirt, and his forearms were thick and veiny.

You couldn't help but feel a slight tingle through your core as the thought of running your hands over his muscular chest crossed your mind…

"I like what you did with the ring." He flicked your necklace with his index finger, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Oh yeah, I, uh, it didn't fit, so... Had to keep it safe, you know." You chuckled awkwardly. "Never took it off."

"Never?" He was shocked.

"Never," You whispered back.

"Your boyfriend okay with having another man's ring around your neck, Sweetheart?"

"I-I-uh- no, no boyfriend." God, why was it like you had forgotten how to speak.

"Noted." You can't help but want to kiss the stupid gin off of his face.

You reminisced about the countless hours you had spent lost in your own thoughts, daydreaming about kissing his lips. Maybe, just maybe, a new beginning would allow Eddie to finally see you in the same light that you had always seen him. Little did you know Eddie also daydreamed about your lips. Especially the memory of watching you say those three words in the airport. It plagued his dreams day and night. He should have said them back, but he was too shocked to react, and before he knew what was happening, you were boarding the airplane to take you far far away from him.

"Okay, love birds, enough of this. We are playing macro polo!" Robin announced, popping the bubble that was you and Eddie.

You were suddenly embarrassed by your behaviour in front of your other friends. You were there to see everyone, not just Eddie, but you can’t help yourself, you have missed him so badly, sometimes you felt like your chest was in physical pain from how much your longed for him.

He still was the last person you thought about before going to bed many nights. Even the times when you had a boyfriend…That’s why none of your relationships worked, because he was right. You wore another man’s ring on your neck and refused to take it off no matter your relationship status. You were forever his, even if you technically never were, but your heart belongs to him.

The rest of the day was filled with laughter and catching up on old times. You tried your best to divide your attention to everyone but somehow you and Eddie were drawn to one another. He needed to be sitting next to you, to touch you whenever he could. To convince himself that you were in fact real and not going anywhere.

To Eddie you were the one that got away. The endless nights he stayed up thinking about you, the day you left, the days and nights spent, platonically, wishing he had just made a move… but maybe that would have made your move all that harder?

The ring was a spur of the moment decision that he was glad he made. He always caught you looking at it. He loved that you loved it and that you would have a piece of him while you were gone. He knew you would protect it and cherish it because he knew how much you knew it meant to him. It was one of the last things that he had left of his mother, and he felt that it symbolizes how much you meant to him…

Saying goodbye to every wasn’t half as painful as the last time you had to do it because it really wasn’t ‘goodbye’ but ‘see you later’.

Eddie offered to walk you to your car, before you left. He wanted to speak with you alone.

“It was really good seeing you” you lean against the door of your car.

“Yeah it really was… Um, hey… look can we talk?”

“Of course, what’s up?”

“I just need to know, why?”

“You gotta be more specific there Teds” you giggle.

“You tell me you love me then run away to England for almost a decade!.”

“Oh.”

How was it that this conversation was happening now, in Steve’s parents driveway? Things were fine a minute ago back in the house?

“How was I supposed to process that? What was I suppose to do with that information? Tell me Sweetheart because let me tell you it really fucked with my head.”

“Teddy I’m sorry, I was so young and scared but I had to let you know… I couldn’t stand the thought of you not knowing.”

“You didn’t even give me the change to say it back…”

“What?”

“ I said you-”

“I know what you said Eddie but you had plenty of chances! We wrote every week and we phone once a month what about them!”

“I can’t do this again…”

“Wh-what?” Your words betrayed you as your voice wobbled.

“It’s good to see you, but I don’t think I can go through all of this again.” Eddie couldn’t stop the words. He didn’t know why he was saying these things? This was not how this was suppose to go. But he was so mad you left him and he never got closure.

“Go through all of what?”

“You left. You left me here in Hawkins while you went out and became someone! I was held back two years, a fucking super senior as you were out in the world without me.”

“Oh I see. So this is my fault?” Now you were pissed. How dare he pin his mistakes on you.

“Forget it.”

You didn’t know what to do. You and Eddie never fought before? Now he’s a perfect stranger and yelling at you because you had left him. But he knew you were to leave eventually. How could he expect you to not go to your dream school? Why did he give you his ring?

“Well if that is how you feel.” You reach up to unlatch the chain from your neck and let go of the thing that had been attached to you for the past seven years.

Without a word you hand it to Eddie, and get in your car and drove home.

You cried the whole way home. It was a miracle you were able to see through the burning tears that stained your cheeks. Fitting that it should start to thunderstorm the second you get out of the car; at least it will hide your tears from your nosey neighbours.

As you stepped inside your apartment, the weight of the day's events pressed heavily on your mind. You reached for the nearest bottle and poured yourself a glass, savoring its amber color and the warmth it brought to your throat. The first glass went down quickly, followed by another and then another, each one helping to ease the pain of disappointment and frustration.

After a few hours of wallowing in self-pity and letting the alcohol work its magic, you finally gathered the courage to walk over to the phone. You braved the hallow ringing as it seemed to go on forever.

There's a fat chance he will answer, but you had to get this off your chest. You still love him.

"Hey, sorry I missed your call, just leave a message after the" beeeeep

"Hey, yeah, it's me... Peach. Just been thinking about everything tonight…And I don't know,” you sniffle. “I just miss you so much. I thought about you all the time… did you think about me? -shit- I’m a little drunk I uh…just ignore that last part. Give me a call back if you can?"

Shit, this was so stupid... could you sound any more desperate? “Did you think about me?” God, you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He’s already shot you down twice, but at this point, you would rather be hurt than feel nothing at all. He has found a permanent home within your heart, and the eviction notice has been shredded and burned.

After you hung up the phone, you went straight to bed. You did nothing but toss and turn for two hours. Thinking about Eddie and the words he spoke. You had to do something; you regretted giving him the ring back. Your neck felt bare without it like a part of you was missing.

As the rolling thunderstorm rumbled in the background, you heard a knock on the front door. At first, you were sure it was just the storm playing tricks on your mind. But then, you hear it again - three distinctive knocks that make you freeze in place. You couldn't help but wonder who could be knocking at your door at this hour and in the middle of a storm? Your mind raced with thoughts of potential intruders, lost travellers seeking shelter, or even a neighbour in need of assistance. With a sense of caution, you waited another minute, hoping to hear something that would help me identify the person on the other side of the door.

Again, three more knocks.

You let out a string of curses under your breath as you nervously glance towards the door, wondering who could be knocking at this ungodly hour. The darkness of the night envelopes you completely, with no one else around to offer you any comfort or protection. So you flick on the hallway light for some semblance of comfort.

The howling wind outside only adds to your anxiety as it whips through the trees with a mournful wail. The rain pelts against the ground with a relentless force, creating a deafening crescendo that echoes through the stillness of the night. You feel as though you're trapped in the middle of a horror story or some twisted nightmare.

“Peach, it’s me!” You hear a deep voice coming from the other side of the door as you slowly approach it. You peer through the peephole to double-check, but as soon as you see who is on the other side, you wrench the door open so fast that you almost take it off its hinges.

“Eddie?” You look at him with swollen eyes. "It's one in the morning."

"Quarter after, actually." His heart sank a little when you called him by his actual name.

"Okay?”

"You cheated me out of the chance to say it to your face! That's the least you and I, for that matter, deserved!" Eddie barged his way past you and into your home, not caring that he was leaving a puddle from the relentless downpour. He was drenched from the tips of his hair to the soles of his shoes. "You didn't even let me say it back!"

“You loved me?” The realization of his words sunk in.

“Not loved, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” the disappointment was evident on your face. Eddie could always read you like a book.

“Love, present tense.”

Your heart rate at this point should have been concerning. After all this time?

"and to answer your question, I thought about your every goddamn minute of every goddamn day."

"Please, I didn't mean any of that stuff I said back at Steve's. I don't know what came over me; I'm an idiot, forgive me? I take it all back!"

"You love me?"

"Yes, oh god, yes, I have since the ninth grade and never stopped!" Eddie's heart pounded in his chest as he awaited your reply. Maybe this was stupid? Perhaps he fucked up so badly that it was irreversible. Never did he ever think you would give him the ring back. He knew he fucked up the second you placed it in his hand, but he was too hard-headed to apologize.

When you exited the driveway, he immediately snapped out of his foolishness and started chasing you down the street. No way he was losing you again because of past hurt feelings and pure stupidity on his end. He can't believe he was about to let you walk away from him. Again.

"Please say something?" Eddie pleaded, stepping closer to you.

"I don't know what to say, Eddie? You've been sending me mixed signals all day."

"What is it you need? Space? Time?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"You!"

"Me?"

"I just need you now." With a surge of courage, you stepped forward and closed the distance between you and Eddie.

Heart racing, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, feeling the cold, wet rain residue and softness of his mouth against yours. It was a moment of pure bliss, leaving you breathless.

After years and years of imagining, dreaming, and picturing, this moment finally came to fruition. Some may say it was a manifestation; others might say it was destiny.

An overwhelming heat bloomed from your core and spread throughout your whole body as Eddie’s strong hands explored your exposed skin. Your burning need to overpower the feeling of the coldness of Eddie’s wet, damp clothing. You had been wearing an oversized shirt and underwear when you opened the door, but that only aided him.

His hands trailed up from your hips and slid under your shirt so he could hold you by your waist. As he tasted you, he pressed his body further into you, pushing you back further down the hall towards the bedroom.

"You have me." He pulled away breathlessly as he took you in. Your once dry white shirt was now damp and translucent, sticking to your body. Eddie couldn't help but groan at the sight of your peaked nipples trying to pierce their way through the thin material blocking you from him.

You could feel the pool of arousal collecting in your panties. Never had you been so turned on in your life than in this moment.

“I have you.” You mumble before taking his lips once again. You let his tongue part your lips as he explored your mouth. You tasted like mint toothpaste and a hint of whiskey.

"Baby, I need you now." He moans.

Baby. A plume of butterflies erupted deep within you at the name. There was no going back now; you and Eddie were destined to be together like it was written in the cosmos.

Despite the tension between you two, somehow, you managed to break apart just enough to lead him to the bedroom. The atmosphere was charged with anticipation as you both stood there, breathing heavily, staring into each other's eyes.

"You're perfect," Eddie whispered as he backed you up onto the bed that stood in the middle of the room.

You willingly fell back onto the soft sheets below as his lips met yours. Needy hands pulled at the fabric that separated you.

Lightning lit up the room as your silhouettes danced on the walls. Eddie, atop your body, melted into your plush bed as you both stripped fully.

“Please, Eddie,” you whined as he was taking too slow; the wet fabric clung to his clammy skin. He needed warming up, but you knew just the cure. “I’ve waited for so long.”

“Me too, Sweetheart.”

Having been confined for what seemed like an eternity, he was finally able to break free from the shackles of his own clothes that had become a wet and cold prison for him.

You are both now fully naked in your room. You take in the sight of the man before you and what a man he is. Drinking in every last detail your eyes could see in the dim light. He had more tattoos than when you had left, and you were right about his body being more filled out than you remembered. And his cock, so beautiful you could almost cry at how perfect it was.

“God you’re beautiful.” Eddie whispers as he did the same thing.

"So are you." You reach up to take his rough cheek in your palm, gently pulling him down towards you. You sigh into the kiss as you feel Eddie’s weight fall on you.

You can’t help but grind your hips up into his throbbing cock. It’s rock hard as it rests on your soft middle.

Eddie reaches between your two connected bodies and finds your wet pussy with his fingers. A feral moan leaves your lips, and his calloused fingers brush against your swollen, sensitive clit.

The lewd sounds of lips smacking and Eddie playing with your wet pussy fills the room with the pounding of the storm in the background.

“Please, Eddie, I can’t wait. I just need you now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, please I need your cock so bad.” You begged. There was no time for foreplay; you’ve waited long enough for this moment.

Eddie couldn’t believe this was happening to him.

“I don’t-I didn’t- shut I don’t have-”

“I’m on birth control,” you blurt out.

“You sure?”

“Please, Eddie, I need to feel you… to fill me. All of you.” You craned your neck to reach up and kiss the side of his. You marked him, leaving a significant bite mark that would let everyone know he’s taken. He is yours. Always has been.

“Shit, okay,” he moans as your mouth explores his throat. Eddie would do anything you asked of him at this point.

Eddie slowly guides through your folds, collecting your slick on his shaft, and glides into your pussy.

God, you felt amazing, so wet, so warm, so tight. His perfect girl.

“Oh my god,” you arch up into him so you could feel every inch of him.

“You look so pretty like this.” he mewled as he slowly ground his cock into your needy pussy.

“Fuck fuck fuck” Eddie rambled as he hit the hilt. He slowly dragged his cock back and rocked gently back into you like he didn’t want you to break.

You captured his lips on yours once again, muffling your throaty moans.

Eddie was tender; Eddie was sweet. He wanted to make sure you knew he wasn’t just fucking you; he was making love to you.

God, he loved you, even though all those years separated you. He still loved you.

“Eddie, feels so good!” Your mind was captivated by him. Everything in this moment was eternally Eddie.

Eddie’s hips never stopped, they sped up only a little to gain momentum as the sticky heat between you only grew more are more delicious.

“You feel that baby?”

“Oh god, yes.” You hook your ankles around Eddie's back, pulling him in deeper. His cock hit your g spot with each grind and roll of his hips.

His hands find yours, and he laces his fingers between your own, bringing your hands above your head.

“You make me feel so good; oh god, your pussy is taking me so well, fuckin’ made for me.”

“Mmmmhmmmm,” you agree, “made to be with you,” you moan.

“Yea, baby, you think we were made for each other?”

“Yes,” you answered, too fucked out to be self-conscious about what you were saying.

Your orgasm was quickly building and building as Eddie’s hips continued to grind into yours.

“I love you,” you let slip as Eddie continues to make you feel like you���re floating.

You’ve died and reached heaven. You swore nothing could make you feel better. But you were mistaken; Eddie proved you wrong with the next words that were uttered out of his mouth.

"I love you." He sealed his declaration of love with an emotional kiss.

Your head spun with his words. Did he really just say that? Are you really here? The reality of where you are hits you hard as your orgasm rips through you. You were in bed with Eddie, your Eddie. Eddie, who makes you feel safe and loved and important and worshiped.

“Oh my god, oh my god!”

“Shit-fuck” your cunt clamped down on Eddie so tightly as he tried to hold on a little longer, savouring the moment, trying to hold out as long as possible.

“Where do you want it?” He breathlessly asked.

Still making love to you for as long as he could hold off until you told him you loved him again over and over, totally overcome by the serotonin washing your brain, you don’t even know you’re speaking.

“Inside,” you look up into Eddie’s eyes, and he cums immediately. He swore he never heard more beautiful words.

Eddie slowly pumped himself inside of you as he rode out his orgasm, and you kissed every inch of his face.

“I’m never letting you go.” He sighs as he collapses his body weight on top of yours.

“Good, because I’m never going anywhere without you again.” You incase him in a bear hug as your legs and arms wrap around his body one more.

“I love you, Peach.”

“I love you more, Teddy.”

Taglist: @seexyyprincess @cigarettesaftersmut @urdadsnewgiirlfriend @sunnythespookyghost @babybimbo777 @luxaeterna13 @edge-just-edge @slayyymisha @veemoon @asimpforthe80s @chrrymunson @skyline4446 @xxhellfirebunnyxx @paperbackprettyboy @hellfirenacht

[lalunanymph]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 — n. seishiro + i. rin

what’s better than one football prodigy in your bed? that’s right—two.

"move your lukewarm ass—"

"s'not my fault you couldn't get a bigger bed!"

"if i have to see your foot right in front of my face again, i'll—"

"rin," you pouted. "sei."

the unlikely pair turned to you, teal blue eyes and steel grey ones focused on your flushed face.

you were naked from the waist down, legs spread and ready for the both of them to take you... if only they would just stop bickering for a second.

the story of how you landed in between two of blue lock's most lethal players was a funny one, but you couldn't recount it right this second.

after all, history was the furthest thing from your mind when you were waiting for either of them to just fuck you.

rin, the hot-headed one between him and nagi, tossed a baleful glare at the white-haired man. "can't even finish what you started right—must i always teach you what to do?"

"careful, itoshi," nagi mumbled breezily, though the threat behind his casual tone was clear as day. "i could beat your ass anytime on the field."

"you barely have any talent, you lukewarm—"

your arms around his shoulders stopped rin from his tirade. the only thing in the world that could calm him down was you and your sweet smile which could rival the sun.

"be nice to each other, please," you whispered, and for good measure, placed a kiss on rin's warming cheek. "i really need you both. don't keep me waiting?"

you left an open-ended question for either man to follow through. nagi was the one who didn't hesitate to meet your needs in the middle.

curling his large palm around your ankle, you fought a shiver at how the veins on the back of his hand seemed more pronounced now that he was tensed. he yanked you from rin, and you tumbled back onto the bed, legs falling wide open for him to dive in between them.

his lips were swollen, shaded close to cherry wine when he latched onto your clit again, slowly sucking it and massaging it with his mouth. your head tossed back, and rin's presence was felt by his hand on your throat, turning your face towards him.

your mouth parted open in a silent scream, and rin took the chance to ease his cock down your throat.

the walls of this love hotel which had seen numerous affairs would implode if news of this tryst reached the wrong ears.

news would pour out, and disgust would be splashed across the pages of every tabloid.

it would ruin both your lovers' careers.

but, like an asteroid approaching the burning surface of the sun, a collision of epic proportions was inevitable.

you white-knuckled the sheets, hips writhing like a pit of snakes with nowhere to go. trapped in between two football prodigies, you could only take their merciless thrusting and licking, until the tight ball of heat in your lower belly was threatening to explode.

white light flooded through the cracks of your barely opened lids. rin was speeding up his thrusts, the sensual sounds of wetness and your throat taking him second to nagi's lewd moaning and lapping in between your legs.

you threaded shaky fingers through his frosty silver locks, trying to anchor yourself from flooding away in a sensation of pleasure.

"focus on us," rin's voice tainted by the searing pleasure roiling in those beautiful teal eyes reverberated through your ringing ears in a low growl. "don't tap out now, baby."

something physical and hot curled in your lower belly at rin's term of endearment. the famed stoic striker rarely ever doled out pet names, and something about being called rin's baby—the one to spark his natural instinct to protect—had your heart cartwheeling in your chest.

"mhm, tastes s'good," nagi's slurry groan added a layer of sensation you couldn't keep up with. he nuzzled your pubic bone, a momentary break, only to rub his slick lips over your clit in his rendition of a lazy, sensual kiss.

an electric feeling of darkness slithered down your spine, and you moaned around rin's length.

you were wet everywhere.

drool dripping down your chin. juices staining your thighs. sweat seeping into the sheets.

every second that passed in this blissful suspension of time and space was filled with unbearable pleasure. your hips twitched, stuffed moans trying to creep past the willing obstruction choking your airway.

you tasted rin's musk, the smell of him—soap and salt—springing tears to your eyes.

above you, his fall of dark green hair shaded his flushed cheeks and sweaty forehead. a snarl was etched across his mouth, the shine of his perfect white teeth flashing like a quick camera light in your hazy mind's eye.

flickering your gaze to the man between your thighs, your hips undulated when you noticed nagi removing his pants. the white-haired prodigy had zero patience when he slid his pretty, veiny cock against your folds, testing the waters and your eagerness.

your body responded instantly, lower half angling upwards, legs falling wider to accept his larger frame comfortably.

in between two men who were easily over six foot, it was hard not to be smothered by their bodies—but you adored the suffocation.

you loved the feeling of nagi's bigger body caging you on the bed, while his heavy hips collided with yours in a bruising pace that almost made you spit out rin's girthy length.

"fuck," rin huffed, craning his neck back to loll his head, eternal bliss written on his pretty features. "so good. f-fuck. best mouth..."

he trailed off in a whimper which would've been unnoticeable if seishiro had not stopped fucking into you.

"told ya," the white-haired striker mumbled triumphantly. "told ya to take a chance on us."

you could actually hear rin gritting his teeth.

"just focus on fucking her," he spat, murderous glare fracturing into heated pieces from his faltering expression. it was hard to hold onto anger when you were tonguing his balls.

he slid his gaze to your grinning mouth split open by his fleshy globes and felt a surge of love so strong that if he were standing, rin would've been knocked to his feet.

luckily, he was already on his knees for you.

the one woman who could put him there without a single complaint.

"i wuv you," your cute confession while your mouth was full of him made rin almost tear up. those lukewarm feelings would never see the light of the night—not when nagi was opposite of him, fucking into your pussy like he might never have it in his life again.

rin eyed the frothing, creaming mess in between your thighs born from the other striker's precise, clean strokes.

was there anything that this stupid white-haired bum couldn't do?

rin tamed down his jealous thoughts, reminding himself again that you three were a team. an unlikely one—but still a team nonetheless.

as for the other man, he was completely drunk on the sway of your hips and tits, eyeing the hypnotizing way your throat bulged when it was full of rin only to smooth out and repeat again. and again. and again.

he felt his own balls tighten when you pulled your face off rin's cock, running your hot pink tongue over his taint and balls.

it was like he could feel it gliding across his own skin—

"fuck!"

seishiro fell into a heap on top of you, completely spent. his heavy breaths fanned across your neck and chest, his cum spilling out in milky stains onto the sheets, cock pulsing pathetically in you, like his soft whines which begged for your attention.

luckily, your hands were offloaded from stroking rin's pretty and thick length when the other man's hips stuttered and he gripped the back of your head, holding you in place.

seishiro could tell when the younger itoshi had come—his face would crumple first, like a paper doily that was unable to fight off the force of his body's baser instinct. then, a pinch of pain in between his brows, a heavy sigh and half-lidded drunkenness.

when those teal eyes fluttered wide open again and he stumbled back onto his haunches, you were there to catch rin.

how the hell did you manage to cuddle in bed with two really tall, athletic men—you would never know.

but with nagi's head on your chest, and rin curled into your side, you were floating on a cocktail of hormones and pride at bringing two of blue lock's most talented men right into your bed.

a coasting sensation that was dragged down the corners into reality for a split second like a curtain pulling back when you heard rin mumble: "next time, i'm getting her pussy," loud enough for seishiro to hear.

nagi grunted, not giving the younger man the time of day or space to breathe when he uttered his next words.

"why don't you score a scorpion trap against me first and then we'll talk."

every reblog and (nice!) feedback given gets your delulus closer to trululus

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[ryo-apologist]

Camboy! Shigaraki

Shigaraki Tomura x Reader

CW: Smut, Minors DNI, I will block your ass. Exhibitionism, being filmed, spanking with a toy, nipple play, degradation.

AN: I tried to keep it pretty GN, if I missed something let me know. Because of this, I don't mention a hole specifically, so use your imaginations <3

~Darling XOXO

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who remains faceless the entire time he's on camera. He's the leader of an entire army, he can't have his entire being called into question because he likes the attention.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who started this whole thing because he saw far uglier men on porn sites raking in hundreds of thousands of yen and for what? He knows he's better looking than at least half of them, and who ever complains about extra money?

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who holds that ideology but really, he loves the attention. He's such an attention slut that you throw enough money at him on stream and he'll do anything.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who loves edging himself on stream because it's just a special kind of torture. Stroking up and down the shaft of his cock and watching it twitch with ever drag of his hand. Thumbing over the head just to collect the bulb of pre-cum already dripping out only to slather it in a slow circle and watch as the light sheens off of it. Reaching his other hand to squeeze his own balls because it feels so good and this is for him and him alone. Everyone watching is lucky that they get to experience such a thing.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who is originally adamant on not bringing you on until Dabi makes a comment about how much more viewers money two person streams bring in. While Dabi was talking about two women streams, Shigaraki is already taking this idea and running with it.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who teases the idea on stream for weeks just to garner his audience's opinions. He watches as the numbers start rolling in when he starts moaning about fucking you're tight little hole and leaving you a dripping mess for their pleasure.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who reads every single comment he gets, about how people are blowing their loads to just the thought of watching anyone get fucked by his cock, whether it's them or not. People volunteering themselves, even if he knows nobody will ever reach your level.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who's disgusted by the idea at first, but soon realizes what this mean. This isn't just a way to make money, or get all the attention he was deprived of as a child, no.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who realizes this is a way to stake a claim. This is a way to absolute ruin his little whore in all the ways he's ever dreamed of and to send a message to everyone who's debauched enough to lose their shit over him of all people.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who knows this will be a message that he's better than them in every single way. He has an army, he's the most wanted villain in Japan, he's dangerous and lethal, and yet he's still getting laid more than they are. That he has this perfect little cum sleeve waiting for him at the drop of a dime.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who grows so hard at the thought on stream he's nearly breaking his thirty minute edging streak at the thought of absolutely wrecking you on camera and leaving you to moan his name for everyone to hear. Because he's the only one who gets to talk to you like this. He's the only one who gets to touch you like that. He's the only one who gets to fuck you and leave your whole gaping for his cock and his cock alone, after all, he's worked so hard to carve out a spot in you for his dick alone. For him to fuck and sully and leave flooded with his cum.

☾ Camboy! Shigaraki who doesn't need much more convincing after that.

Your head hurts.

His fingers are threading so close to the roots of your hair that a small part of your brain is firing off a number of warning signs that he could kill you then and there. The red flags are numbed and buzzed out by the euphoria of simply having him there. You can barely find yourself caring about his hands when the delicious stretch of his cock is filling you all over again. When the sound of his balls clapping against your ass cheeks is ringing in your ears over and over again.

When your eyes are focused on the lens of the camera in front of you. The red light is haunting in the sense that you know exactly what's being broadcasting. An audience of thousands, maybe more, is watching you get your back blown out with heavy drops of cum already dripping down your thighs.

Your back is arched nice and pretty for Tomura, with his one hand pinning you by your head and the other is too busy holding your hips, the only thing saving your life being the arch of his own pinkies to keep them from touching your delicate flesh. Sweat is coating your skin in an uncomfortable layer, but you can't even find it in yourself to care.

There's a chime and the sound effect of coins falling, and you whine out as the vibrators taped to your nipples light up once again. They buzz happily against your sensitive nubs and your entire body scrunches as you keen and shudder. The hand in your hair pulls slightly in a warning.

"Naughty slut." He hisses, low and deep and it sends your entire nervous system into a tizzy. "Gonna cum? I didn't say you could do that."

"'m sorry-" You gasp out, fingers tightening their gasp on the sheets beneath you. "Not gonna cum." You swear thought you can feel that neither of you truly believe that.

Tomura grants you a sliver of relief and stops moving.

The hand on your hip leaves and you're almost tempted to look back, but that's against the rules. So you don't.

You do let out a yelp of shock, or maybe pain, as the stiff surface of his paddle rockets against your awaiting ass cheek. You groan and clench and you can hear Tomura let out his own noise as the paddle lowers to rest it's cool face on the burning flesh of your ass.

"That's my good cum sleeve."

There's another chime and the returning noise of coins falling. The vibrators you hadn't even noticed had turned off come to life again. The paddle swings and your entire body clenches as euphoria runs through your veins, quickly followed by the shame of disobedience which ruins your orgasm before it can even finish.

Right after you feel the rush of warmth as another load of cum fills you more than you thought possible.

Another chime has you crying out in agonized glee.

[goldfades]

This is a ramble, apologies in advance.

Manager 100% just has that stare. Yk, like that “knock it the fuck off” momma stare and it always gets the girls to stop immediately. Manager doesn’t even have to say nothing, the moment that stare comes on you have like 30 seconds to act right, and the tiktok people eat it the fuck up.

Also, speaking of momma bear, the manager is so protective of her girls!!! Like talk shit about them she’s borderline gonna beat your ass, but she refrains.

I feel like the manager is a person who is sassy with a smartass mouth when they’re bantering with the group, but it’s all in good fun. However when someone says some slick shit to the team that smartass mouth is lethal, whilst still keeping it classy cuz of her job.

^ adding onto this the girls are the same way!!! they don’t play about their momma bear. Good luck to the unlucky soul that does something mean to their manager.

-🐹

AAAAAAHHHH NONNIE, THESE ARE ALL SO REAL. and pls spam me babe, i don't care!!!!!! esp with the manager series, it's sm fun 🩵🩵

oooo yes, one glare from manager and everyone is shutting up and quieting down. the only two people who test her patience constantly are kk and paige and they're the only two who've ever been yelled at by manager

no everyone on the team is TERRIFIED of manager bc she just holds sm power, and no one wants to make her mad. even geno lowkey is scared of her, like... she's just scary af

if she's having a bad day and she shows up at practice and kk/paige tests her patience, SHE'S SO DONE. obviously geno gets mad at them for getting manager all mad now so he makes them go run laps (cus a mad manager means = mad everyone)

OHMYGOSH, she's literally the protector of the team. bc the team can't respond to rude comments on social media, you bet she will. especially when people keep comparing paige to EVERYONE AND THEIR MOMS, manager has more than once put them in their place

oh and don't get me started on rude interviews, you're getting absolutely flamed cus manager does not back down. she won't stop until the interview is either embarrassed af or crying. baby girl tries to keep it classy but people test her patience SOO much, she just has to put them in her place (which has gotten her in trouble plenty of times but nothing too serious)

YES, the entire team just adores her. they will protect her with everything they've got!!!!! they hate when people talk down to her and are mean to her, you will get humbled really quick

SEND SOME MORE GUYS!!!!! i love hearing your thoughts

[hubristicassholefight]

Swordswoman showdown FINALS

Hornet (Hollow Knight) vs Xena (Xena: Warrior Princess)

(Better here in a "preferred character" sense, not "who would win in a fight")

Propaganda below cut

Hornet

Technically its not a sword but she wields a needle in a setting where swords do not exist and she wields it in an exceedingly swordlike fashion so. She counts; Girlboss demigoddess spider lady. She's been protecting an entire kingdom for longer than many of the other characters have been alive. She systematically kills her siblings for being too weak. She's simply the best.

#im pretty sure hornet can beat like. anyone in a fight.#have you ever fought hornet#its so fucking hard getting past her every time i play hk i go literally insane.

#i remember getting stuck on the first hornet fight on mt first play through and bring likr#''omg the boss fights in this are so hard!!!''#like what. you're not even half way through what are you talking about#you can't even DASH honey. you don't know what's diffcult or not in this game.

So, SPOILERS

but I feel like the "she systematically kills her siblings" part needs a little clarification. See, one of her siblings was used as a living prison for an angry god and that uh. Didn't work out for the sibling in question or anyone else.

This account is itself heavily abbreviated but it's likely that any other sibling Hornet encounters will be trying to take over as the god's new prison. She appears to challenge any sibling she sees to battle, in order to test their resolve against herself and her needle - would they actually have a chance against that god?

We never actually see her kill any siblings, but she does quite pointedly tell one of them that (to paraphrase) "My needle is lethal and I would feel no sadness in a weakling's demise."

Feels like a relevant quote. In any case, if they can't beat Hornet, it seems like her needle would be a far more merciful end than what the god would grant.

Anyway, a bit of additional material for @swordswomanshowdown :

As is the case for any cool swordswoman, it's not just her sword that's lethal, it's her with it. And Hornet's needle was custom made for her - the creators have said that, while other needles exist, hers was made specifically for her to wield, and its construction allows her to use her spider silk better in combat.

And another thing that I think makes her a good swordswoman: she's actually pretty thoughtful about how she uses it. There's a least one instance where she tries to warn someone off before fighting them! At the same time, when she does fight, she seems to enjoy it - during her boss battles, you can hear her laugh sometimes, as if exhiliarated. She's really got it all, as a swordswoman!!!

#HORNET SWEEP CMON PLEEEEEEASE#shes gay. shes the only sibling with a gender. shes a spider named HORNET. look like croissant. whats not to like

Xena

Warrior Princess

She wields a sword and chakram. Just had to submit a biconic swordswoman.

i love her. she made me gay as a kid. Anyway, her weapon of choice is her sword, she is obviously very good with it

#unfortunately i have to choose and i have to choose xena#a) utena had no warcry. b) xena fought gods. c) xena has kickass goofy comic book combat which is my favorite

xena didn’t just fight gods. she fucked up a girl’s life so bad that she (calisto) devoted her entire being to destroying everything that xena loved that ended up with calisto becoming a god in order to destroy xena, which didnt work because xena entombed her in lava. and then when xena and gabrielle encountered calisto in the (christian) afterlife (different from the greek one which they also fought her in), calisto dragged gabrielle to hell so xena became an archangel in order to save gabrielle and then sacrificed herself in order to undo all the harm that she did in calisto’s life and then when not!jesus (played by timothy omundson) revives xena and gabrielle, calisto impregnates xena with the reincarnation of calisto’s soul in order to end the cycle of hate. xena doesnt just fight gods. she creates and destroys them

#this isnt even mentioning her fighting julius ceasar several times#telling brutus that caesar is not his friend#xena and gabrielle’s souls reincarnating across centuries in order to kick ass and fall in love all over again#or the time xena became a god but tbh that ep is kinda ‘uhhhhh…..’ even if they did hire a consultant for it

#I think everyone here knows to vote for Xena. I think a couple people here might have some propaganda for Xena saved already#everyone remember that Xena/Gabrielle is CANON and that's a pretty big deal also#(does anyone have that Xena Loves Trans People interview around because that would also make good propaganda)

I love Xena ❤️ 😍 💖 ❣️

[b33zlebubz]

assorted COD character headcannons

- Laswell is so bad with kids. like remarkably awkward compared to everyone else. Ghost can at least make them laugh if he doesn't scare them first. - Soap has four sisters, he's the youngest. - Gaz and Price are tied when it comes to who has had the most concussions in the group. - Ghost's sense of humor is basically those memes with all the fire, motorcycles, and skulls that say something like "born to shit forced to wipe." He doesn't take himself very seriously while also knowing that he scares most people shitless. - Soap, on the other hand, is very millennial when it comes to humor. and also HATES not being taken seriously. - Ghost is a fucking RECKLESS ASS driver but somehow never manages to wreck. also a huge car guy - Ghost fucking hates spiders. - Gaz can sleep anywhere, anytime. This makes everyone else exceptionally jealous. - Graves can't speak Spanish (obviously) his knowledge of language outside of English is a VERY touchy subject but in every other field? Dawg is lethal. - Soap strikes me as the type of guy to own a Jeep Wrangler with a handful of rubber ducks on the dash (it's very existence physically pains Ghost). There's a grim reaper duck he scribbled on to make it look like Ghost. - Laswell can outdrink every member of 141 except for Ghost. - Graves, however, can't hold his liquor for shit. He drank with the others once before the betrayal and got his shit wrecked. That won't stop him from trying again if given the chance, though. - Gaz and Ghost are both Radiohead fans. this is like the one thing they have in common other than like ,, workplace trauma. They're also both secretly huge softies but Gaz is more open about it than Ghost - Ghost likes to drop lore about himself at random, completely nonchalant. This makes everyone uncomfortable aside from Soap, who doesn't realize Ghost was only half-joking about getting hung by a meat hook, and in turn gets glared at by the others when he snickers at how quiet the room gets. - Price and Ghost both do the dad sneeze. scares everyone else into attention, sometimes - Peppered throughout Soap's journal are some of Gaz's doodles. Gaz fidgets like hell whenever he's anxious so Soap just kinda tosses him his journal and a pen to get him to fucking sit still

[mustainegf]

kinky sex with 2010 james plsplspls 🙏

First off, I’m SO SORRY that this is so late, I know this is a req from last month, but it turned out SO GOOD trust 🙏🏼

ALSO GUYS IM NOT IGNORING REQUESTS I HAVE 13 FINISHED FICS IN MY DRAFTS!!!

WARNINGS: slight daddy kink, slight choking, sex toys, pet names, bondage, overstimulation, edging, creampie, degradation, unprotected sex, kinky shit idk lol

"You're such a naughty slut." He grabs my throat and pulls me closer until our faces are inches apart. "Tell me how you want me to fuck you, whore." I want him to use me however he wants. I open my mouth and let out a muffled moan, looking up at him through lowered lashes, biting my lip, waiting for his order.

"No words?" His hand tightens on my neck and pushes down harder against the mattress until I'm choking. "I thought you were smarter than that.

Are you going to make me prove it? "

My eyes widen, and I shake my head. Fuck, this man. "No, James," I wheeze. "Please, Jamie. Just use me however you want."

"You're lucky I let you call me that, I might have to punish you for being so desperate though." The look in James' eyes was lethal, dangerous, and it put me on edge.

James reached across the mattress grabbing his discarded shirt. He quickly paired my wrists, tying them tightly together, not caring if it was comfortable or not.

He hooked the knot around the bedpost, leaving me unable to defend myself, waiting for him to do with me what he pleased.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against mine, "I'm going to give you two choices. You can tell me exactly how you want me to use you. Or I will take you anyway I please, and you will be grateful for it."

"P-please, Sir. Whatever you want," I stutter out, as tears prickle the backs of my eyes. This was why I needed someone like this; someone who would be rough with me but would love me at the same time.

James' eyes flared with power, just at the thought of having full reign over my body.

"Where's your vibrator?" He asked with a grin, sitting up off the bed to rifle through the bedside table. "No, James not the v-" I couldn't finish my sentence before James had found my toy. "Ah, ah, ah, you said I could do whatever."

He chuckled, turning the device on, causing it to buzz loudly in his hands. "Besides, this should be punishment enough." I didn't say anything. I knew better than to argue with him now.

James leaned his mouth to my ear, whispering as he trailed the buzzing vibrator down the inside of my thighs.

"Such a dirty girl, taking whatever I give you." He pressed the toy to my clit my whole body jerking from the pleasure. I let out a whine, but this didn't stop James from talking me through it. "Can't wait to feel your tight fuckin hole around my dick..."

My heart raced from the forcfull vibrations directly on my clit. "Can't wait to hear those pretty sounds you make when I'm balls deep inside you..."

I began bucking against the bed, trying to get away from the vibrator, but James held me in place.

"Can't wait to hear you beg me to let you cum..." I moaned into the sheets, "Please, James. Please, please." But he persisted. "Can't wait to fill you with my cum..."

He growled. "You are such a filthy little slut, aren't you, Angel?" I nodded frantically. He was right; I was a filthy little slut, but only for him.

I squirmed agaisnt the pressure of the toy, trying to escape the overstimulation, but James held my hips in place, pressing harder.

I glanced down as he did this, staring at his cock.

He looked painfully hard, reddened and throbbing as precum dripped from the tip and onto the mattress.

Suddenly, James turned the vibrator off, pulling away with a sly smile.

I gasped, lifting my hips, begging for it again. It was like he was taunting me, leaving it off, knowing how much I wanted more. "Shh, shhhh. Good girl."

He ran his hand over my stomach, trying to soothe me. "But first, I want to watch you cum on my cock. And then you can have your toy back." My eyes widened at this, and I started to struggle.

"Just hold still, babygirl..." He hummed, rubbing my thighs and taking his cock in his hands.

I watched with a watering mouth as he pleased himself, just staring at my helpless body.

James slapped my sensitive pussy with his cock, teasing me as he rubbed himself through my soaking folds.

He grabbed my hip with one hand, guiding himself into me with a roar. He filled me completely in one single hard thrust.

My back arched as I screamed in pure ecstasy. I wrapped my legs around his waist, begging him to move faster. I felt so small, so insignificant beneath him, but it was the most powerful feeling ever.

James threw his head back, not working up his speed or anything, just immediately going as quick as he could. "Let's make this fun, shall we?" He grinned, reaching for the vibrator again.

"No, no, no!" I cried out, trying to push it away. "Aw, come on, sweetheart," he chuckled. Despite my begging, I wouldn't dare say our safe word, I wanted every second of it.

I watched with watery eyes as he turned the vibrator back on, pressing it back on my clit, all while his cock was fucking into me.

"Oh, fuck! Fuck!" I shouted, arching off the bed.

"Fuck, Jamie! Fuck!" I was losing control, losing everything. Everything became a blur as James went faster and harder.

"Come for me, Angel. Come for Daddy," he demanded, and I couldn't help but obey. I felt myself lose control, my muscles clenching around his cock, as I came undone in his arms.

All sound disappeared, everything except the beating of my own heart and the sound of me screaming his name.

His cock coated with my slick, but he didn't stop, and he didn't lift the vibrator either. "You're gonna have to wait until I cum, honey," he growled, rubbing the toy on me now.

I let out sobs of pleasure as he continued to use me. "Fuck, I love the way your pretty little pussy grips me.." He groaned.

"James it's too much!" I moaned, writhing in the restraints.

"That's the idea, babygirl. I want you to keep cumming, keep squeezing me." My vision started to black, as Ilost all sense of time, but I knew it was coming, I could feel it.

"I'm close, baby. I'm so close," he breathed in my ear, his voice low and guttural. I could tell by the change in tone he was about to cum. I was trapped between euphoria and agony, pleasure and pain.

I felt another orgasm tear through my core, every sensitive part of me was spasming. My clenching only pulled James closer.

I felt his release flood me, hot and thick.

It was messy, animalistic, and perfect.

James rutted agaisnt me as he groaned, glancing up at my teary eyes and cheeks. My whole body was trembling. This seemed to flip that switch in him, instantly going into protective mode.

He shut off the vibrator, tossing it aside as he hastily undid the knot around my reddened wrists.

"Are you okay honey? Was I too hard?" He cooed, pulling me into his arms.

I exhaled, trying to collect myself, I was hot, a sweaty mess as I collapsed at his side in bed.

"Baby? Are you alright?" He asked sofity, brushing my hair out of my exhausted face.

"Yes, yes. I'm okay." I panted, smiling up at him.

"Do you wanna take a bath? Or just go to bed? I can clean you off," James smiled.

"I don't think I can walk, so maybe no bath..." I laughed quietly, my voice raspy from the constant loud moans.

James nodded, planting a slow kiss on my forehead. "I'll get a towel."

[biteofcherry]

Just reread Room with a View and I loved it the second time just as much as the first. Just wanted to tell you ❤️. I've always wondered where/how Bucky and Steve find their assistant? And does she know that she's signing up for from the beginning? If you're feeling inspired, I'd love a drabble. If not, any fragmented thoughts?

Fringe Benefit

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers

summary: Steve and Bucky wanted to start looking for an assistant right after their visit to Ari, but unexpected business complications limited their time to organize a search. Luckily, the opportunity presented itself to them on a silver platter… You presented yourself, begging to squeeze in a ten minutes meeting in their busy schedule

warnings: dark Steve Rogers dark Bucky Barnes; dub-con; manipulation; forced orgasm; blowjob; deepthroating; power imbalance; explicit sexual situations; praise kink; breeding kink;

You came to their building - a forefront to businesses that you know are more illegal and dangerous than exclusive properties they deal with - five times, before a stuffy desk clerk written down your name in the calendar.

A small window for a very short meeting, possibly a dismissal, two weeks in the waiting.

You were patient, but in this case time was sensitive. Because money was sensitive.

A part of you wanted to drop it, not clean your younger brother's messes once again. Sense of responsibility made you cave in. As well awareness that if Noah can't pay his debts the sharks would turn your way to settle it, anyway.

You preferred to get ahead of things. Maybe your readiness to cooperate and a solid plan you've made would help you save life.

Barnes and Rogers were businessmen. Lethal mob bosses, but that was a sort of business too. And you knew how to deal with difficult clients as well demanding bosses.

So you poised yourself in calm, controlled demeanor as you sat down on a leather chair in front of a huge desk, holding your head high as two pairs of blue eyes settled on you.

Those eyes were more lively than you expected. Instead of sleazy, older men you thought you'd see, stinking of cigars, with greasy stains on their chins; you faced two men in their prime.

Handsome, to express it chastely. Fucking hot, if you'd describe them to your friends.

In their late thirties, maybe early forties; one with neatly trimmed beard, the other with some scruff. Perfectly tailored suits on lean, muscled bodies. They both had blue eyes; one an icy shade that cut through you, the other the depths of ocean that swallowed you whole.

They were watchful. Assessing your every gesture and tick.

Predators in vigil.

It's been a long while since anyone studied you so intensely. It made you feel uneasy, but also sent a hot wave through your bloodstream.

For a second you dropped your gaze to the folder you held on your lap, your hands gently clasped over it. Somehow you managed not to shiver.

You lifted your head up, meeting their gazes evenly. You weren't dumb enough to throw them an open challenge, but you hoped to look confident.

You wanted to introduce yourself, but Mr Rogers was faster, greeting you in a way that suggested they already knew a lot about you. More than just your first and last name. Probably did a background check on you. For the meeting purposes, you assumed.

After taking an encouraging breath, you began presenting your idea for a solution regarding your brother's debt.

All summed up and divided into regular payments, with extra interest included of course. And a big deposit right away, all your savings ready to give to them.

"You're very thorough." Mr Barnes commented, taking the folder from you when you pushed it forward, but not opening it.

"Indeed, she is." Mr Rogers nodded, rubbing his lip in thought. "A dedicated, hardworking girl, aren't you, doll?"

You frowned at the sweet, condescending nickname. You considered reminding him you had a name, but letting it go was a small price for leaving this meeting victorious.

"It's a good proposition," Rogers continued, "but has a few disadvantages. The main one is that there's a small chance your brother finds a job with decent salary to match yours, so you can pay us in the time you promise."

"Shitty brother at that," joined Barnes, "to burden his sister with this kind of debt. You sure want to take it up on yourself?"

He didn't sound as if he was only mocking Noah. No, there was an undertone of displeasure and annoyance, like he truly couldn't imagine causing a sister any grief or trouble.

"Me not taking it won't change the fact it falls on me anyway if Noah fails to deliver."

You weren't naive to think their wrath would skip Noah's family, if he failed. Or that you could go to the police with it. You were quite sure they had many high-ups on their payroll.

Rogers and Barnes exchanged looks. Something passed between them, though you weren't sure what they debated on silently.

"Since you have the spine and honor to come to us on your own and propose something actually smart," Rogers opened a drawer and pulled out a printed document, "we want to give you a counter-offer."

"Which is?" You narrowed your eyes as he slid papers across the desk towards you.

"As it happens, we have an open spot for a personal assistant. For us." Barnes smiled. It was as charming, as lethal.

"Long hours, including after hours if we wish. But we'd pay you double what you earn now. Also provide paid vacation and sick days, medical care. Bonuses of various kinds." Rogers' smooth voice tempted to trust their offer.

"That- that makes no sense." You shook your head, trying (and failing) to take your eyes away from his.

"You'd be paying me and I would be paying it back to you as compensation for my brother's debt. Your own money returning to you. Where's the gain?"

"Oh, doll," Barnes licked his lips as he leaned forward, "we will reap many benefits from your service."

"Benefits?" You swallowed hard, trying not to react impulsively to the implication behind his words.

Your mind instantly flashed with sinful images; indecent demands and harassment that should outrage you.

But then you reminded yourself that these men probably had stunning girlfriends, or even had a different beauty in their beds every weekend. They could afford the most exclusive escorts, if they wanted to. They wouldn't hire an assistant just to fuck her dumb.

Instead, you thought of all the other ways businessmen and businesswomen benefited from having a personal assistant. You vaguely remembered that from the time you worked as one right after college - not only assisting in the business area, but picking up laundry, buying coffee, buying gifts for girlfriends because they forgot to.

"Yes." Rogers smiled for the first time. "We'll make certain what you do for us is worth every penny of your brother's debt."

They allowed you twenty four hours to think on their offer.

Considering what you would gain, not only in your own payment, but with their proposed salary your brother's debt could be payed much much sooner, lifting the heavy burden from your shoulders.

Money wise, it was a gift like a star from the sky.

You feared participating in the other side of their business, but you told yourself they wouldn't take a meager assistant to a crime scene.

Though maybe you'll have to wash the blood off their shirts. That you could do, you supposed.

So you agreed.

In the first few days your work passed just as you predicted - long hours of trotting between their office and various places they sent you on errands.

But you were a quick learner and memorized their coffee and snack choices after three days; as well the fact Mr Barnes liked to sit in the armchair after a tougher negotiation and listen to music, and Mr Rogers went to the old boxing gym that was rarely frequented by anyone.

You ordered lunch for them if they were in the office. Twice they came back from whatever business they've been dealing with in the field, with pastries for you. Which was thoughtful and sweet, you thought.

Yes, the work was tiring and sometimes hectic (keeping up with their long strides proved to be a little difficult for you), but not as awful or blood-filled as you feared at first.

It was after about two weeks when you entered their office, pen and pad in hand, ready to take more requests for the rest of the day.

"Anything particular for lunch that you wish?" You asked, walking right into the center of the room.

You smiled - not only a false, practiced grimace, but their handsome faces and the crinkles in the corners of their eyes when they smiled in return always made you content.

Focused on Mr Barnes leaning against the desk watching you like a hawk, you didn't notice Mr Rogers closing the door behind you and locking it.

"As a matter of fact, I've been craving something for many days now." Barnes said, curling a finger at you and motioning for you to step closer.

You felt a rush of heat wash over you. His words, spoken in that low, seductive voice, and his beckoning weren't that subtle.

"Um," you bit your lip, feeling your cheeks flush. But you made little steps forward. "I- I can order anything you wish, Mr Barnes."

"No," he chuckled and suddenly grabbed you by the hips, pulling you close. "We will be ordering. Anything we wish."

"That's inappropriate, sir." You laughed nervously and tried to step away, though your resistance wasn't as fierce as it should.

"If you consider that inappropriate," Rogers' voice resounded in your ear as he slid behind you, caging you between the two of them-

"I wonder what you'll think of all the things we're going to do to you."

"S-sir," you trembled as Barnes traced your lips with his finger, as Rogers' tongue flicked your earlobe. "You shouldn't- I shouldn't-"

You shouldn't want it.

A part of you didn't, the scared part that feared awful things being done to you. Those two men killed without blinking, they made people disappear and suffer. They could break you.

The rest of you roused with thrill and anticipation. Your skin pebbling with goosebumps where their hands started roaming.

"You can use our first names, doll. And may I remind you of paragraph seven, point five of our contract." Rogers whispered, rolling the fabric of your pencil skirt up.

"Assistant will also fulfill requests and see to the well being of employers in matters regarding health and body."

"But-" a gasp interrupted your own words when Steve sucked on your earlobe at the same time that Bucky slid a finger past your lips.

"And our bodies really need your assistance right now." Bucky chuckled, slowly pulling his finger from your mouth.

He replaced it with his own lips. Soft, but demanding. A kiss that went deeper and rougher than you ever experienced before.

Then Steve's mouth was on your neck, licking and biting. And they both chuckled when you made a helpless sound as they began pulling your panties down your legs.

Everything was a haze of sensations and chaos of adrenaline buzzing through you. The world slipped from your grasp, as did your control over yourself. Your body was pliant in their hold. You wouldn't stand a chance even if you tried to fight them off, they were much stronger. Bigger. Dangerous.

And for some insane reason it made you wetter.

They pushed you onto your knees. Cold floor harsh under your knees, pressed suit pants and shiny shoes appearing in your vision.

Steve forced your legs to part wider and slipped his hand up your thigh, right over to your slick folds. He had his other hand weaved into your hair, holding a fistful in a strong grip.

Bucky's fingers were in your hair, too. Only slightly gentler in their hold.

They both moved your head back and forth over Bucky's cock.

"For someone who says they shouldn't do it, you enjoy it a lot, doll." Steve laughed cruelly, pushing two fingers into you.

Your whine resonated on Bucky's dick, a pleasant groan falling from his lips at the sensation.

Your hands clawed at Bucky's thighs, nails scratching his skin, but he didn't seem to mind it.

"And you look like you're loving every second of it, too." He patted your cheek.

Your started tearing up - from gagging every time Bucky pushed deeper and deeper into your mouth, and from the growing tension Steve's ministrations provoked.

His fingers inside you curled and his thumb rubbed merciless circles over your clit, pushing you steadily toward the precipice.

"That's it," Steve rasped in your ear. "You're going to cum with a cock down your throat."

Your moan sounded gargled as you choked on Bucky's dick when the head of it bumped the back of your throat. Tears streamed down your cheeks, smudging your make up.

"You'll learn to love it, dollface." Bucky cooed at you, pushing right back in after giving you a second to catch your breath.

"Learn to associate having our cocks in your mouth with ultimate pleasure." Steve mouthed on your shoulder, his fingers never ceasing in their torment.

And he was driving you towards climax expertly.

Your sounds pitched higher, your body shaking as you felt tension coiling in your belly. Steve kept urging you on, murmuring dark, filthy promises of breaking you.

Bucky slowed his movements, but each time he drove his hips into your face, forcing his cock down your throat.

He withdrew partly, keeping his dick on your tongue as he held your head in place, when Steve growled - "She's gonna cum now."

You don't know if it was his command, or maybe you really were right on the edge, but you shattered right after he spoke those words. A loud, pitiful keen, partially muffled by the dick in your mouth; tears falling freely.

Your body seized, but Steve quickly let go of your hair and wrapped a strong arm around you, holding you to him. His fingers were still buried in your soaked cunt, thumb giving your pulsing clit some reprieve.

Your head throbbed with white noise, your lungs burned. Everything slowly settled down, your consciousness falling back into your body.

Before you had a chance to calm down fully, Steve's thumb on your clit started moving again. In wicked eights this time.

"N-no-" your weak objection was cut short by a cock pushing back into your throat.

Bucky gripped the sides of your head harsher, pushing his hips forward. He forced you to swallow him to the root, his balls slapping your chin.

He didn't withdraw fully now, only rocked against your face, keeping himself at the back of your mouth. Each push forced strings of saliva to dribble out of your lips and down your chin, smearing on his sack.

Steve set a different rhythm on your clit now, somehow managing to arouse it all anew.

One of your hands tried to blindly grab his wrist when he thrust a third finger inside you.

"Take it, doll." He ordered, moving his digits ruthlessly despite your attempts to stop him.

"It's only three fingers. My cock will stretch you wider when I take your tight cunt."

You didn't know if Bucky finished first and that's what set you off again, soundlessly screaming as he spilled down your throat; or if Steve pushed you over the edge and your helpless, choking sounds made Bucky burst.

He groaned loudly, rutting his hips against your face as he came. Then withdrew slightly, keeping his still spurting cock on your tongue.

His icy gaze turned warmer as he watched you from above, admiring your ruined state and the pool of white cum sliding down the back of your tongue.

Steve pulled his fingers out of your sopping pussy at the same time that Bucky finally eased out of your mouth completely. The squelching sound of your cunt flushed you with embarrassment.

"Kiss the tip," Bucky's voice was soft, but you knew it was an order nonetheless.

You hesitated only a second, mostly due to tiredness. Steve slapped your puffed pussy in reprimand, causing you to squeak and lean forward instantly, placing a kiss on the head of Bucky's softening cock.

"Good girl." Their praise made your head swim. Or maybe it was the post-orgasmic exhaustion.

"You're perfect." Steve kissed your temple.

He was surprisingly gentle as he helped you up. Your legs slightly wobbled as you straightened and Steve quickly slipped an arm under your knees, picking you up bridal style.

You snuggled to him as he moved around the room. You heard some shuffling, items being moved away.

Then you were being lowered down, cool, solid surface beneath your back. A sound of chair being moved and a telling jangle of buckle belt being undone.

Steve's face appeared above you as you blinked your eyes open. He tapped your cheek a few times, rousing you back to consciousness.

Someone's hands moved up your legs - Bucky, you realized. He spread your thighs open, his hot breath puffing over your swollen, wet folds.

Steve gripped under your chin and forced you to tilt your head back.

"Ask me to fuck your mouth." His fingers wrapped around your throat.

He didn't clench them; his hold merely a reminder of who was in charge, and how easily he could hurt you.

"P-please, Steve, fuck my mouth." Your voice cracked.

You weren't sure there was enough air in your lugs left to survive another cock down your throat.

"More." Steve demanded. "I know you can beg prettily, doll."

Bucky nipped on the sensitive skin of your folds, making you yelp.

Seemed one would always punish you, if you didn't obey the other one.

"Please!" You babbled. "Please, Steve, feed me your cock. Fuck my mouth and fill my belly with your cum."

"Oh, we will." There was a dark undertone to Steve's chuckle as he guided the tip of his dick toward your parted lips. "We'll fill your belly plenty, little doll."

You thought he meant coming down your throat.

He did. But he also meant more.

Soon you'd find out.

[villain-enthusiast]

"I know what you are."

The hero froze, eyes widening ever so slightly—there and gone in a fraction of a second, but just enough to give everything away, to hand the villain the victory on a silver platter.

“No,” the hero finally breathed, fumbling for the right words. How? How did you figure it out?

The villain grinned, teeth bared triumphantly. “That’s right. I know your dirty little secret. I know what would happen if you took that bracelet off.” They nodded towards the engraved metal band circling the hero’s wrist, which the hero quickly jerked behind their back.

“You—,” the hero bit out, “you had no fucking right—,”

“I can do whatever I want, actually" the villain interrupted lazily, unbothered. “But it seems like you can’t.”

The hero tensed as the villain’s dark gaze raked over them, somehow degrading and reverent all at the same time, as if they were a piece of artwork to be studied, a finely polished marble statue, a honed weapon waiting to be used—

Everything suddenly clicked into place. “No.” The hero stumbled back, knees buckling.

The enclosed environment of the back alley. The dead end behind them. The lack of usual physicality from the villain other than to disarm them. They were a predator playing with their prey, waiting to pounce, to keep the hero all to themselves.

The villain stepped forward. The hero flinched back. “Stay away,” they spat. “Don’t touch me.”

“Or what?” the villain teased, continuing their casual approach. “What will you do, hero?"

Nothing, I can't do anything. The hero hit the wall behind them. God, how could they have been so stupid? To believe the villain's letter, the threat that they were about to blow up a museum without even looking up the location of the meeting spot. The villain had anticipated that the hero's ego would get to them, that they wouldn't call for reinforcements or bring anything more than a gun, because even with the cuff on their skin—

"You thought you were safe," the villain said, as if they could read the hero's thoughts. They stopped a short arm's length away from them, just far enough to give the hero the false illusion that they had some semblance of control in this matter.

It was cruel. Wicked. The hero squeezed their eyes shut as undiluted power hurled through them, roaring in protest, stifled only by the carved mage runes around their wrist.

"Look at you," the villain murmured. The hero felt fingers curl around their throat, cold and possessive. Their hands clenched into fists at their sides.

They could fight back. They could shove the villain and run and get out of here—

"You're scared, aren't you?"

The hero's eyes snapped open as their breathing stuttered in answer, meeting the villain's assessing stare.

"So scared, of all that power." The villain's finger shifted under the hero's jaw, to their racing pulse. "Power that people would die for. Kill for. And you," the villain's hand tightened just slightly, "you suppress it and refuse to use it, because how could you? How could you be the very thing that you seek to destroy?"

The hero snarled, the sound not entirely human. "I said don't touch me!" They wrenched out of the villain's grasp, bolting down the alleyway in a desperate, mad dash for some kind of exit, anything—

The villain grabbed their wrist and pulled them back, pining their arm behind them and shoving them up against the wall.

The hero hissed between their teeth as their shoulder twisted at an uncomfortable angle. "I'm...I'm not yours," they gasped in between ragged pants. They strained against the villain. "I will never be yours. Will you just fuck off—,"

The villain yanked on their arm in warning and they shut up, grimacing.

"I don't want you, little hero." The villain words were a lethal caress in their ear. "I want what you have." Their hand trailed over the metal clamp on their wrist, and the hero felt howling magic shudder through them. "But most unfortunately for you, I can't just take it from you. So instead," the villain smiled again, stamping a seal on the hero's fate, "you're going to come with me."

The hero was only granted the courtesy of a shudder before the villain knocked them out cold.

[tossawary]

Having finished the first "Jedi Apprentice" book... some thoughts based purely on that one book and the movies...

On one hand, I do think that no one should have ever let Qui-Gon Jinn be responsible for a child. Like, yeah, the Jedi Council keeps sending children into horribly dangerous situations all the time (because it's kids media, this is how kids media works), so I will not put Obi-Wan repeatedly being in lethal physical danger entirely on Qui-Gon (it's a little bit on him); there's an institutional issue here. But, for the love of goodness, that aside, Qui-Gon is obviously just not currently equipped to take responsibility for and help a child's emotional and mental wellbeing.

On the other hand, I do think that this was... decently written? The characterization is clear. I do understand why Qui-Gon Jinn thinks the way that he does even if I find a lot of his thoughts infuriating and strongly disagree with his conclusions. His past experiences with a padawan fucked him up and it's coloring all of his current choices, and he knows it but doesn't want to examine exactly how. PLUS there is the cultural / institutional element of even Jedi initiates being deadly little killing machines and padawans regularly being sent into danger. Qui-Gon grew up this way, he evidently views some element of this as normal and acceptable. This is along the lines of what happened to HIM as a child.

And that's interesting. Obi-Wan Kenobi will later turn around and make some of the exact same mistakes with Anakin Skywalker.

PLUS there's the knowledge that Qui-Gon was trained by Dooku and... I have to believe that Dooku was probably worse, honestly. Like, I have not read the additional materials that might show off that master-apprentice relationship, but Dooku became a damn Sith Lord who waged war against the galaxy because he thought that accelerationalism would fix shit, which suggests to me that he was probably a strict and demanding master, probably not especially emotionally available, especially emotionally intelligent, and/or especially respectful of, like, other people's opinions or feelings. I won't assume at the moment that it was intentionally abusive or that there wasn't some affection there; I AM going to assume that the Dooku & Qui-Gon dynamic was in some way dysfunctional as all get out, though.

Qui-Gon is actively refusing to take a padawan because he knows that he's not in a good place for one and doubts his own teaching abilities! He really does not want to be responsible for a child! (And Yoda is going, "Fix him, I can," and by "I", Yoda means "12-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi".) Unfortunately, Qui-Gon is so desperate to avoid Xanatos happening again that he shies away from taking even temporary guardianship of Obi-Wan Kenobi for the duration of a transport flight.

So, while knowing that Qui-Gon Jinn is going to fuck up even harder in later books, my current vibes for him are... He's like one of those unintentionally toxic parents who is doing their best most of the time but honestly can't see what exactly is fucked up about their behavior, because THEIR parents were WAY worse and even more abusive, and also general society generally agrees that "not starving your child" / "not beating your child with a belt" / "not causing any physical harm" is the peak of "good" parenting. I would bet that Dooku's expectations for Qui-Gon's skills and behavior as a 12/13-year-old were extremely high.

So, Qui-Gon means well, and is probably internally holding himself up against Dooku and correctly seeing that he is WAY better with kids than Dooku, but unfortunately, Dooku REALLY sucked as a teacher and guardian. (Like, Dooku may have successfully passed on skills, but the whole experience was generally volatile and unpleasant for Qui-Gon.) So "way better than Count Fucking Dooku" still lands us all firmly on: "Oh, shit, Qui-Gon fucking sucks at this, actually."

And Qui-Gon KNOWS he sucks at this! He knows he's not good with Obi-Wan, even if he doesn't fully grip his own position and impact. He's busy risking his own life and nearly dying multiple times fighting pirates and mining overseers right now in this first book, so he doesn't exactly have the time or the tools to fix his shit right now, even if he knew where to get started and actually wanted to rip open those old wounds. (And he does not.)

[ddejavvu]

Pizza Box Puzzle Pieces - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake is a responsible drinker, he swears. But when you're stuck being responsible for the night, a very drunk Jake gives you all but one piece to a puzzle you don't complete until the morning after.

Contents/Warnings: drinking, fem!reader, typical hangman behavior, enemies to lovers (really more like rivals to lovers)

Requested: A thousand times congratulations on such an amazing milestone! Could I please have an espresso w. enemies to lovers with Jake ‘hangman’ Seresin? ☀️ - @saintlike78 THIS HAS BEEN IN MY DRAFTS SINCE SEPTEMBER I AM SO SORRY MY LOVE i hope you still like hangman &lt;3

WC: 5.3K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Jake Seresin is a responsible drinker. He keeps a rideshare app on his phone, he tells Bob (the permanent sober babysitter) that he needs to be cut off after 10:00 PM, and he gives Penny his keys before he even orders his first drink.

Tonight, though, she'd left them unattended. There they were, shiny and appealing, sitting on the bar. She had left to get a clean dishrag, he could just take them! Driving sounded fun now, less of a chore and more of an adventure now that his brain was blurry.

You watch Jake's eyes widen as he catches sight of his keys, and your hand darts out to snag them before he can. His reflexes are slow, and when he reaches for them, his hand hits empty counter space.

He looks around, bewildered. They'd just disappeared.

"Here, Bagman." You jingle the keys in your hand, and he catches the sound from the few seats down where he's sitting. His eyes drift aimlessly over to your hand, and brighten at the sight of his keys.

"Thanks," He drawls, his southern lilt far more noticeable now that he's running on autopilot, "I'm gonna-" he hiccups hard, his chest bouncing, "Head home."

He stands, wobbly on his feet, and treads forwards to take the keys from you. You raise them above your head, but he doesn't follow, instead slumping forwards as his hand grasps at thin air. His head hits your chest and Coyote catches your eye from over Jake's shoulder. You widen your eyes, flaunting the keys you'd managed to snatch from him.

All the pilot does is laugh, and then his attention is shifted back to the dartboard. Typical.

"Jesus," You grunt, pushing at Jake's chest. He straightens up again, eyes blinking open from where they'd been shut, "What did you drink?"

"I don't remember," He admits, and that's all the explanation you need.

"Come on," You reach for his pocket, his phone sticking out, "Let's call you a ride."

"Nooo," He darts away, almost too late to evade you, "That's my phone."

"Yes Hangman," You smirk, "I think you're smarter drunk than you are sober."

"But that's-" He fumbles with his cell, "You can't touch my phone."

"I want to get you home," You urge, once more reaching for the device in his hands, "Don't you want to go to sleep?"

"You can't have it," He insists, yanking the waistband of his khakis off of his stomach and slipping his phone dangerously close to his crotch, "Unless you-" Another hiccup that flutters his eyelashes, "-wanna take it."

The smirk he shoots you after shoving his phone down his pants contains lethal cockiness. You're surprised the sheer size of his ego doesn't knock you down, you're not sure how you're standing so close to him without running into it.

You glance down at his phone. It's protruding just enough from his waistband for it to be quick and easy to grab. But your hand has never been that close to Jake's dick before, and you're hoping it never will be.

"Fuck," You deflate, shoulders slumping as your fingers curl tighter around his keys, "Come on, I'm driving you."

"Take my car," He insists, as if he's forgotten you have his keys, "It's.. It's really cool."

"Can't wait," You  gripe, slinging his arm around your shoulders, "Come on, one foot in front of the other, Seresin."

The cold night air hits you like a tsunami. It floods your thin shirt and seeps into your bones, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. You've never known it to get this cold here, and the skin-to-skin that Jake's shoulder provides against your own is your only warmth.

You prop him up against his car while you fumble with the keys, but before you can click the 'unlock' button, he's snatching them from you.

"I wanna- I wanna do it," He insists, gripping the pointed end and bumping it up against the panel on the outside of the keyhole, "It's my car, I wanna.. do it."

You give him a minute to figure out the key. After it passes you yank it from where he's been pathetically butting it up against the hole, still confused about how to slot it inside.

"Gimme," You grumble, sliding the key into the hole with barely a second's delay, "You're too drunk for this."

"I'm not drunk." He scoffs. He says it with so much sincerity, with so much raw belief, that you're surprised that it doesn't come into existence. You're surprised the alcohol doesn't drain from his system completely, and leave him his usual coordinated, upright self. But he's still leaning against his car, half-coherent and dizzy.

"Right." You chuckle, throwing open the driver's side door and unlocking the rest of the car, "Get in, Hangman."

He starts for your seat and you shove him away, "No, not the driver's seat," You groan, "Other side."

He starts for the backseat.

"For fuck's sake," You exclaim, grabbing his bicep to lead him around the car, "The passenger's side!"

You get him wrestled into his seat with no further drunken antics, and you relish the fact that you've gotten him calm for the night. He's anything but when you finally glance up at his face, though, great big tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

"You're mean." He whispers, his voice shaky. You've never seen such a pitiful sight, his big green eyes brimming with anguish that seeps down his cheeks in rivers of tears. "You grabbed me, and-" He waves his bicep at you, "And you manhandled me," He gushes, angst-stricken, "You're mean!"

"I'm sorry," You sigh, playing into his inebriated sorrow, "Are you okay, Hangman?"

He doesn't note the sarcasm in your voice, sniffling pathetically, "No. It hurts."

You offer a quick pat to the affected area, but he shakes his head.

"Kiss." He offers in explanation, 'Kiss it better."

"I am not going to-" You begin, rage evident in your voice. Then you glance back up at his eyes, filled with new tears.

It's a staring contest for a moment, but you break first. You hunch, bracing yourself for the most humiliating thing you've ever had to do when you pucker your lips and press them into his bicep.

It's firm. Fuck, you wish it wasn't, it holds up under your lips and warms them. It's intoxicating, your lips on his skin, so close to his chest. It's exhilarating. You have to get away.

"There." You grouse, practically glaring at him despite the blush at your cheeks as you straighten, "Better?"

"Yes," He whimpers, and it's small, broken, pathetic, "Thank you."

You shut the door without another word, letting him wipe his own tears.

His car is surprisingly nice. Where you'd expect fast food wrappers and condoms, you find an air freshener.

He grabs it excitedly, shoving it into your face as you start down the road, "Darlin' you gotta- gotta smell! It smells like ocean breeze."

It slips over your eyes and you strain to get away from it, "Okay, Hangman, okay! It smells very nice," You gush, giving him the attention he's seeking. He preens proudly as he hooks it around his mirror once more, but he doesn't settle into his seat.

"Those are cool jeans," He prods a finger at your thigh, and even though you know it's drunken rather than lustful, his touch makes you shiver.

"They were five dollars," You humor him, feeling him fiddle carefully with the ripped strands of fraying string showcasing your skin.

"Cheap." He murmurs, concentration far too heavy on rearranging the strings. Half of them have ripped beyond repair from where they were stretched over your thigh, but he seems to be playing with them like they're yarn to a housecat. You have the sudden urge to run a hand through his hair and see if he purrs.

"My house is that way," Jake points blearily through the windshield down a one-way street, "It's the big blue one."

"You live in an apartment," You turn the wheel in the opposite direction, "And it's not blue, and it's not that way."

"Oh so you-" He hiccups, "-know where I live?"

"I do," You nod, keeping your eyes on the road even when his fingers keep pawing at your jeans, "I've been there before. Remember? We had a movie night."

"Oh yeah," He nods, brow furrowed, "Payback spilled his water on my carpet."

"Not water," You snort, remembering the cheap liquor spilled over the shag, "But yeah, he did."

There's a bout of silence that follows your words, shadows ripping through the car as you pass beneath trees. The road is paved unevenly in a few spots, and Jake's car bounces on its tires.

"Woah," He grumbles, head bumping your shoulder after a particularly raucous pothole, "Look! Look they're in a- a heart."

You slow to a stop in front of his apartment and glance down to where his finger is digging into your thigh. The loose strings on your jeans have all been twisted and tied into a heart that overlays the rip, puffy and frayed where it rests against your leg.

"Oh," You let the sincerity of the gesture steal the breath from your lungs, even if it does come out of a drunk man, "That's pretty, Hangman. Thanks."

You unlatch your seatbelt, breaking his trance. The heart, tied at the bottom and woven through other strands at its apexes, stays tightly knotted into your jeans, and you wonder if you'll ever be able to get it out. It's the last of your concerns, though, as Jake fumbles with his own seatbelt.

He finally jabs just right at the button, though it's after a string of mumbled frustrations. You swear you hear something along the lines of "You're pretty." thrown into the mix, but you choose to ignore it so that your hands don't get sweaty. You probably misheard.

It's a wonder that he's able to get himself out of the car. He lands with a crunch of gravel onto the driveway of his apartment, feet planted firmly beneath him. You suppose he might have sobered slightly during the long, quiet drive, and you're just glad you don't have to press him to yourself anymore to keep him upright.

Thankfully, he knows which door is his, but he forgets that you have his keys. You keep a hand stuffed into your pocket, curled around them, while he fumbles in his pocket for them.

“Damn,” He hisses, patting his pockets and coming up empty, “My- my keys are gone. I think someone took them, we have to-”

“I have your keys,” You’re far too smug as you hold them up, the ring hooked over your middle finger, “Remember? That’s why I drove?”

“Oh.” His brows furrow, and the word adorable flashes through your head before you can stop it. As soon as you acknowledge it, though, it’s gone in a puff of smoke.

“I’ll do it.” You carefully shoo his hands away from the door, slipping the key in and turning it. His apartment is neat, you’ll give him that, but you suppose it’s because he doesn’t have time to mess it up. You toe off your shoes in the doorway, leaving them in a heap which he contributes to. His boots are going to muck up your white wedges, but you can’t care about that right now. What’s more important is making sure Hangman doesn’t head straight for his own liquor stash, which of course, he does.

“No,” You rush for the bottle he’s about to grab, “You’re cut off for the night. Remember?”

“No,” His brow furrows, and he stares at your fingers wrapped around his own against the neck of the bottle, “I don’t.”

At least you know he’s being honest. You pry his hand off of the bottle, setting it back on the counter and letting go of his fingers. You expect them to drop but they don’t, they curl around your own and slot your palms together.

You stiffen but he doesn’t seem to notice, his hand still enveloping yours in a gesture that sends heat rushing up from your fingertips and straight to your heart. You glance down first, then up at him, finding a gooey, lovesick smile on his face paired with empty eyes.

“Hi, darlin’.” He gushes, and squeezes your hand.

Fuck.

“Okay, bedtime.” You decide, trying to pry your hand out of his grip. He won’t let you, though, the more you pull the closer he gets. Until he’s pressed to you, his right thigh to your left, chest-to-chest, smiling contently at you. 

If you can’t make him let go, you suppose you can move. So you do, you lead him through the short hallway, and flick the light on in his bedroom. His room is.. less neat. There’s clothes on the floor, and what looks dangerously like an old pizza box sticking out from under the bed. You decide to ignore it for time’s sake, your main goal is to get Jake into bed before he tips over.

He looks close to it now, stumbling towards his nightstand to snatch a necklace off of it. It’s a delicate silver chain, and there’s a pretty heart pendant on it.

“Look,” He shows it off, “‘S my mom’s. She gave it to me before I came down here.”

“That’s very sweet,” You croon, and all of a sudden you want to know more about Mama Seresin, “I think I’d like to see you wear that someday, Hangman.”

“That’d look silly.” He muses, eyes shiny as they rove over the charm, finally putting it down to look back at you, “But if you’d really like it I’ll do it.”

You suppose that if anything comes out of his drunken stupor, it’ll be a hell of a lot of blackmail material. Apparently he’s blabby when drunk, and you’ll definitely ask why he’s not wearing his mom’s necklace tomorrow when you meet for breakfast.

“Okay, Jake, let’s get you changed.” You hum, glancing around his room and peering apprehensively at his dresser. You turn back, intent on asking him which drawers you should avoid opening, and are met with-

“Jake! Put- put your pants back on!”

Your hands fly to your eyes to shield yourself from the sight of Jake Seresin’s Uncovered Crotch, but you forget that he’s still clinging tight to you, and he stumbles along with you. All you can do is let out a strangled cry as his outer thigh presses against yours, praying nothing else will.

“Put your boxers back on,” You beg, “And- and get into pajamas! Oh my god.”

“Yeah,” Jake giggles, far too inebriated to read the room, “That’s what they all say.”

“I hate you,” You groan, and finally, he lets go of your hand.

There’s absolute silence for too long, but just before you can urge him to hurry up and get dressed, he speaks.

“You do?”

HIs voice is unlike you’ve ever heard it. Jake has a particular talent for boasting, and his voice often bleeds confidence, loud and strong and clear. Now it’s small, unsure and weak.

“Get dressed,” You huff, “With pants, please.”

You’re not eager to admit it, but you don’t hate him. Not at all. Sure, he annoys you, but he annoys everyone. He shoves confetti through the slats in your locker so that opening it triggers a snowstorm, he steals food from your plate when his own is nearly full, and he always, always knocks his knuckles against your helmet. But he’s never mean, he’s never insulted you or pushed you or demeaned you. So you can’t find it in yourself to hate him, even if you don’t always like him.

Or maybe you do. Maybe you bite back a smile when you find confetti on the ground, and maybe you bend over with your back to him just in case he likes what he sees. Maybe you steal his food right back, and maybe the best part of your day is when you make it a competition, and he practically crawls over Fanboy to try to nab a piece of your orange chicken. Maybe the rapping of his knuckles on your helmet makes you want to respond by bumping it against his chest, an urge you’ve never dared to act on.

Feigning hatred is much easier, you’ve found, than admitting love.

His voice cuts through your thoughts, still devoid of its usual enthusiasm, “I’m dressed.”

You let your hands fall to your sides with a relieved sigh, and though your vision is somewhat bleary from being covered for so long, you work with it, blinking until you can see his form, already under the covers on his bed and facing away from you.

“Okay,” You hum awkwardly, glancing around the room, “You’re gonna need medicine in the morning. And water, so-”

“Pills are in the bathroom cabinet, there’s a cup on the counter.” He drawls, voice muffled by his pillow.

You bustle off to gather those, and when you reenter his bedroom you find him staring at the wall. It’s a sad expression, an empty one, but you suppose that’s what binge drinking does to a man.

“I’m gonna head out,” You speak to his back, setting the pills and glass down on his nightstand, “Are you.. gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” He hums, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” You mumble, more than ready to flee the awkward scene, “Bye, Jake.”

“Do you really hate me?”

You freeze in the doorway, heart thudding in your chest. You turn slow, your eyes meeting Jake’s before your body faces him, giving you enough time to figure out a response.

“No,” You speak carefully, “I- I was just teasing, Jake. I don’t hate you.”

“You’re sure?” He peers up anxiously at you, looking more like a scared child than a naval aviator, “You really don’t?”

“I’m sure,” You nod, gracing him with a soft smile to soothe his nerves, “I don’t hate you, Jake.” “Okay,” He breathes, his frown flattening out into a neutral expression as his eyes drink you in, “Thanks, Y/N. For taking care of me.”

“Anytime,” You promise, and you mean it more than you’ll let on, “Get some rest, Jake, we’re meeting for breakfast at nine tomorrow.”

He nods, and that’s your cue to leave. Your shoes are still by the door, and you slip them on, fiddling with the straps. When you straighten up from where you’d hunched over you spot Jake’s keys where you’d left them on his entryway table, and realize he won’t know where they are in the morning. You don’t want him to panic, so you scoop them up, knowing that his door auto-locks behind him as a part of the apartment’s security features. You’ll be able to leave without the keys, and he won’t be at risk overnight.

You pad quietly back into his room, intent on setting the keys by the glass of water and leaving. But you realize that he’s already asleep, the magic of booze eliciting soft, even breaths from him that ricochet off of the pillow he’s smushed against and blow his hair back. You stifle a giggle at the sight, and pride yourself for how much self control it takes not to record it.

You set the keys down, and your heel catches on the pizza box beneath his bed. Your nose wrinkles, and you decide there’s no good reason for Jake to be keeping old food under his bed, of all places.

You pick it up and it feels nearly empty, prompting confusion on your part. Pizza is not weightless. 

Maybe you should, maybe you shouldn’t, but you decide to flip the lid open. You brace the box on his nightstand and pop the top, your eyes landing on a collection of memorabilia inside, not cheese and bread.

You recognize a chubby baby as Jake himself, a slightly aged photo that looks delicate. You bite back a soft smile, but decide that his baby pictures are none of your business, fingers ghosting over the lid to shut it once more now that you know he’s not hoarding Papa John’s beneath his mattress.

Just before the lid closes, your heart stops. Your eyes catch a picture of just about the last face you’d ever expect to see in a pizza box under Jake Seresin’s bed: your own. It’s a picture of you talking to Payback, eyes shut and crinkled at the corners, mouth open in a laugh you’re sure was less-than-graceful at whatever the other aviator had said. You pick the photo up, pushing away a jewelry box that’s lying on top of its corner, and finding dozens more of your squadron beneath it. There’s one flipped on its front, and Jake’s scrawled sharpie over it, ‘Rooster being dumb. 6-07-2022.’

Upon inspection, the photo is of Bradley making a fool of himself. He’s halfway to the ground, foot caught in the sand as he topples over. You remember that day, you’d all laughed when he’d emerged with a mustache-full of sand.

You flip the photo of yourself, brows furrowing when the description is less-than-understandable.

‘Third time. 5-03-2021.’

Third time.. Third time you’d… laughed at Payback’s jokes? Definitely not, he’s quick on his toes and surprisingly witty.

Thumbing through each photo of you and your friends, the descriptions are all simple. ‘Natasha losing a bet’ showcases her rare defeated look, and of course Jake would have that documented. ‘Fanboy exhaling lemonade’ is self-explanatory, the substance shooting out of his nose in response to the Bradley-Sand-Mustache incident. The only ones you can’t figure out are your own, ‘First time. 4-25-2020’, ‘Second time. 10-10-2020’, and even, ‘Relapse. 9-14-2022;.

For the life of you, you can’t figure them out. You realize that you’ve been sifting through Hangman’s personal possessions far longer than you should have been, stuffing them all back inside the pizza box and sliding it beneath his bed. Something strange and confusing clouds your brain as you make your way to the front door, and you barely remember to listen for the click of the automatic lock when you leave.

Your apartment isn’t far from Jake’s, it’s only a few streets down, and you’d hitched a ride with Omaha to the Hard Deck anyways. You won’t make him pick you up to drive you three blocks.

There’s something infuriating about knowing that Jake writes about you in code. It’s like a mental game, and you’re losing. You ponder it all the way back to your apartment, and you dig your own keys out of your pocket to get yourself inside.

Your determination to figure Jake’s code out only transforms into insomnia, and you fall asleep at nearly three in the morning, alarms set for five hours ahead, wondering if you’ll ever find out what they mean.

--

Surprisingly, for how you’d left him last night, Jake is the first one to show up to Team Breakfast. Your typical spot at the local cafe is inhabited by none other than Hangman, checking his watch to see how late everyone was running so far.

“You’re here early,” You marvel, and his head shoots up to meet your gaze. He grins sheepishly, nodding, “I had too much of a headache to go back to sleep.”

“Oooh,” You laugh, “Tough luck.”

“Yeah. Reckon’ I drank a lot last night?” He asks, already grimacing in expectation of your response. 

You take a particular pleasure in nodding, “You tried kissing Bradley.”

He hadn’t, at least, not on this particular occasion. Rooster has gotten his fair share of Drunk Hangman Love, as have you all, but this time he’d stayed away from anything too intimate.

“Shit,” Hangman grimaces, screwing his eyes up and plunking his chin to his chest, “I thought you said Bob was gonna start watching out for that?”

“He did,” You snort, “He saw it about to happen, and left before you could do it to him. He watched out for himself.”

Jake mumbles something, probably along the lines of ‘typical’, but it’s as he raises his head again, and the glint of something silver at his neck catches your eye. You squint, hard, glimpsing a familiar heart-shaped pendant pressed to his chest and outlined beneath his shirt.

“Oh my god,” You laugh, “The necklace! You’re really wearing it.”

He bites back a smirk and fits his lips to the rim of his water glass instead, “I told you I’d wear it. I’m no chicken.”

“Send a picture to your mom,” You suggest, “Tell her you’ve got her heart with you.”

His smile dims, something apprehensive in his eyes.

“You went through the box under my bed last night, didn’t you?”

You still at the question, your eyes wide, “What?”

“I heard you,” He admits, “I’m- I’m not mad, or anything. I just.. I know you did.”

“I’m sorry,” Even if he’s not upset, you feel awkward, like a kid caught elbow-deep in the cookie jar, “It was none of my business, I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” He shakes his head, reaching back for the clasp on the necklace, “It was your business. Is, if..” He hesitates, face screwed up in concentration.

“Y/N,” He finally continues, necklace now pinched between his fingers, “This isn’t my mom’s.”

“Oh?” You pry cautiously, “Who’s is it, then?”

“Yours.” He admits, and your brows furrow.

“It’s not mine, I’ve never had one like that. I- I guess someone must have left it at your apartment or something, maybe Phoenix?”

“No,” He sighs, eyes screwed shut, “I mean- I mean I bought it for you.”

“You,, you bought that necklace.. for me?”

“Yeah,” He nods, “Did you see the box in there?”

You nod, recalling the teal case.

“I bought it for you for your birthday last year. Chickened out before I could give it to you, though. That’s why I had to give you half a bottle of whiskey.”

His lackluster birthday present made a lot more sense now.

“I know you saw the pictures I’ve got of you,” He continues, keeping his eyes on the pendant of the necklace that he’s pressing against his thumb, “I just thought.. I’d get everything off my chest.”

“First time..” You recall, and he raises his eyes to you questioningly.

“The pictures of me,” You prompt him, “On the back, you had little.. notes? Captions? Whatever, they said first time, second time, third time, relapse. What did those mean?”

He stares at you, the prolonged eye contact making you squirm.

“You sure you don’t hate me?” He asks, just as timid as he had the night before.

“Jake- of course I don’t hate you!” You promise, “Just- tell me, please?”

“They’re every time I fell in love with you.” He murmurs, and your entire world stops spinning. You’ve built it carefully on a foundation of Jake-directed sarcasm and a healthy distance away from your fellow aviator, and when the word ‘love’ slips from his lips the foundation crumbles. You feel everything collapse, every witty comeback, every dramatic eye-roll, every logical pushback. Nothing remains, except love. The word, the feeling, the sound of it coming from his mouth. 

Apparently the demolition of your entire world takes too much time. Jake cringes, tucking the necklace into his fist and going to pocket it, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have- fuck, I should have just shut my mouth. I won’t bring it up again, we can just forget this, and-”

“Stop,” You reach for his hand, covering his closed fist with your open palm, “Give me the necklace.”

He unfurls his hand, slowly, unsurely. His eyes linger on you, and he watches as you carefully scoop the jewelry from his palm, your fingers delicately brushing over the heart.

“You really love me?” You verify, keeping your eyes on the silver charm so that if this is some sick joke, you won’t see him break the facade. You won’t see the adoration in his eyes turn to mockery, the love to hatred.

“I really do,” He promises, “And I know that I’m not the best at communicating that…”

“What with the constant teasing and badgering?” You glance up at him for the first time since his confession, your view of his face obscured by your lashes.

“Yeah,” He grimaces, “That.”

“Can I be honest with you, Jake?” You bite the inside of your cheek, regretting admitting what you’re about to say before you’ve even said it.

“Yeah,” He breathes, and you think he expects the worst.

“I kind of like it,” You admit, and his frown breaks. 

“I knew it,” He gloats, his grin wide and bright, “I knew there was a reason you never say anywhere I couldn’t steal your food.”

“Yeah, yeah,” You groan, closing your fist around the necklace, “I haven’t responded to your confession yet, have I, Seresin? Don’t get too cocky.”

As much as you’re teasing him, he takes it seriously. His grin dims, and his eyes soften, worry pooling in his irises.

“I..” You start, eyes on the heart that still lies in the rips of your jeans instead of his own gaze, “I love you, too.”

“You do?” You think you’re starting to like his voice when it’s not brash and cocky, instead sincere and a little timid.

“I do,” You nod, glancing back up at him, “And.. I don’t really know what to do about that. I tried to ignore it, because we work together, and because I wasn’t sure you liked me back, but.. I do love you, Jake.”

“That,” He smiles, real and genuine, “Is something I’ve wanted to hear you say for years, darlin;.”

“Well. you should thank your inebriated self last night,” You laugh, letting him take the necklace from your fist and unclasp it, “You’re very touchy when you’re drunk, and I may or may not have seen your penis.”

“That’s.. not something I remember.” Jake grimaces, pausing with the necklace open in his hands, “Was it.. I mean- did you.. like it?”

“Quit while you’re ahead,” You advise Jake, leaning forwards so that he can wrap his arms around your neck, “I’m not talking about your dick at brunch with our friends.”

“They’re not here yet,” He murmurs, and when you lock eyes, you take in the fact that he’s only inches from your face.

There’s a soft click as he clasps the necklace against the base of your hairline, then he drops it to your neck. The chain is cold, but Jake’s hands are warm where they smooth over your cheeks. You let your lashes flutter shut, lips already slightly puckered, waiting for the press of his own over them. You can’t be but a hair’s breadth away from kissing Jake when a shrill scream comes from the parking lot, and your eyes snap open with a start.

You turn, but he doesn’t release your face, instead pressing his cheek to yours as you both look for the culprit. It’s not Natasha you find with her hands clamped over her mouth, but Rooster, though the former is smirking.

“We carpooled,” She informs you, elbowing Bradley in the side, “We were only five minutes late, and you guys have already sucked face?”

“I gave her the necklace,” Hangman reaches over to show off the charm around your neck, “I, uh- asked for Phoenix’s help buying it. I didn’t know what you’d like.”

“Thanks,” You laugh sheepishly, though you’re not sure who you’re talking to. Maybe both of them, “Uh, is that Fanboy’s car?”

It is, tires crunching against spare bits of asphalt as he turns into the parking lot.

“Coyote’s in there, too,” Hangman groans, pulling back from where you’d been smushed together, “Let’s hope they didn’t see.”

“Oh, we’ll tell them,” Natasha promises, and her laugh can only be described as maniacal, “They each owe me $20, they thought she’d say no.”

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[roosterbruiser]

Ohmygod i love the blurb you wrote for mafia bobby 😭 you did so well with it!

Still on anon for now, a bit shy about requesting on my main but -

Would you do a Jake x Kazansky reader where he's jealous/infuriated/*cough* horny *cough* because the reader (who's also an aviator) is always being praised by their superiors?

Enemies to friends with benefits to lovers?

If he's a teeny bit mean to the reader (calls her a nepotism baby or something) i would love that 🥺

Thank you so much, everything you've written so far is brilliant!

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐚 𝐉𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

You can feel his eyes on you. Those bright green things that somehow feel like flames licking your skin. They're burning your cheek, the one you have turned towards him. If you didn't loathe him entirely, maybe you'd admit that his eyes were actually a shade of green you were fond of. If you liked him more, maybe you'd say that his eyes are the color of eucalyptus or clover. But since you don't like him, since he really doesn't like you, you privately imagine his eyes to be the same shade as pond scum.

Both of you tend to gravitate towards the front of the classroom, which means that when you're late--like you were today, only by a minute or two--you have to sit in the empty seat beside him. Which means that you had to move his feet from the chair where they were resting--the only seat left in the front row. You knew he certainly wasn't going to move them, especially when he smirked up at you and settled into his seat further.

So you swiftly gripped his ankles and let his feet drop unceremoniously to the concrete floor.

He started to make a sound of protest, started to laugh dryly and without humor, but you already settled into your seat and fixed him with a wonderful view of your middle finger as you "itched" your temple.

He's pissed now. You know that. Honestly, you knew he was going to be pissed before you even did it. But you did it, anyway.

You can't stand his entitlement, the way he takes up all the space around him like he owns it and smiles through it all. And you can't stand sitting anywhere except the front of the classroom--it's where you focus the best.

Maverick is droning through another training and you're being your usual studious self, taking notes with your fine-point pens and chewing on your bottom lip.

"Take a fucking picture already," you finally mutter to Jake, not peeling your eyes away from the screen Maverick stands before.

Jake snorts softly, scoffing at you.

"Don't flatter yourself," he spits back, finally turning away from you as he incessantly taps his pencil against the desk.

You try and ignore it--really, you do. But you're certain after a few minutes that he's doing it just to annoy you. That stupid repetitive clanking--tap, tap, tap, tap, tap--it's starting to drive you fucking crazy.

You're right--Jake is trying to annoy you. He doesn't like it when you sit next to him anymore than you like sitting next to him. And he didn't like that little stunt you pulled by scooping his feet out of the seat they were resting in. He won't admit it to himself or you, but he wouldn't have moved if you asked. Really, you moving his feet were the only way you would be able to sit in that chair.

But he's still pissed at you; he's always pissed at you.

You're a Kazansky, which means everyone treads lightly around you. And if Jake hates one thing--it's people who get a free ride. And you with your pretty fucking face and your sweet-smelling hair and your stupid fucking eyelashes and the ferocious way you bite your lip--you have it easy as far as he's concerned. He decided that the first time he ever met you at the Academy, as soon as you introduced yourself. Your call-sign is Wisteria, born from your unsuspecting appearance and lethal temper. But Jake doesn't like to call you that--he really doesn't like to call you anything.

Growling, you turn and stare at his pencil. He just smirks. It makes your face hot with annoyance.

"You're insufferable," you hiss at him quietly, taking a grab at his pencil.

He's faster than you, just by a fraction of a second. He moves to tapping his pencil incessantly on the other side of the desk where you can't reach him.

"You're fuckin' annoyin'," he bites back in a whispered tone. "You can sit anywhere and you choose here?"

You roll your eyes.

"Newsflash, you fucking dick--you don't own the front row," you mumble, blood rising to the tips of your ears.

"You know I always sit in the front row," he tries to reason, glaring at you, his mouth pulled into a grimace.

"So do I," you whisper back incredulously, finally peeling your eyes away from Maverick to return his wide-eyed look. "So just suck it up and shut the fuck up. Can you do that, Bagman? Pretty please?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he grins menacingly.

You groan softly, squeezing your eyes shut. He's going to be the death of you.

"If I ask you pretty please to fuck off, will you do that, too?"

Across the room, Rooster and Payback watch your exchange slyly. Rooster is shaking his head, smiling softly. Payback's lips are slightly parted and his eyebrows are raised.

"How long until they just fuck already?" Rooster whispers to Payback.

Payback shakes his head, shrugging.

"Could be hours. Could be days. Could be weeks. Who knows? God works in mysterious ways," Payback whispers back.

Rooster eyes you--your cheeks are flushed and your lip is nearly bloody from your incessant chewing. Jake is tapping his pencil again, smirking as he glances at you from the corner of his eye.

Oh yeah. You two are definitely burning for each other--Rooster can practically smell it from here.

"I give it two days," Rooster says to Payback.

Payback snorts softly, then sighs.

"I give it two hours," he mumbles back.

The two shake hands slyly under their shared desk.

"I don't know--why don't you try?" Hangman hisses at you.

You square your jaw, breathing through your nose. Lord, grant you some patience for this big hunk of blonde muscle beside you.

You softly smile at him, eyebrows blanched.

"Will you please fuck off?" You ask sweetly, even batting your eyelashes.

Hangman wants to say something. Really, he does. But Maverick is clearing his throat and looking at the two of you. So you slump into your seat, mumbling an apology as you flush. And Jake just nods at Maverick--except he stops tapping his pencil. But he knows that he's going to get you back.

And get you back he does. It's when you're both in the air, cutting through the cornflower sky, teamed up for a dogfight. You're a good pilot--maybe even one of the best. You're vigilant and calculated. You do everything by the books, which is why you've been asked to be Team Captain on more than one occasion.

Of course from Jake's perspective, it's only because of the legacy you hail from. In his opinion, you lack gumption and the kind of recklessness fighter pilots sometimes have to embody.

Needless to say--neither of you like flying with each other. So of course, Maverick pairs the two of you up.

Hangman can be calculated when he wants to be. And today, there's a special fire that's been lit under his ass--and you're the one that's been stoking it all day. So he plays by your rules, obeying you, even using your Lieutenant title--which he makes a point to never use.

But it's at that crucial moment, when you need him to cover you, when you need your wingman--that he dips. He hangs you out to dry, lets you get shot out. Hell, he practically lines up the shot for Maverick. The two of you were close to getting Maverick--so close that Jake could've gotten tone before Maverick even got close to you.

But then your tone is ringing out in your aircraft and you're dead. And Jake is grinning at you as soon as your jet touches down on the tarmac.

"What's got your panties in a twist?" He asks you, smirking as he wipes some beads of sweat from his forehead.

You're thoroughly pissed off. Like red in the cheeks, blood boiling, boulder-sitting-on-your-chest kind of pissed off. You're so pissed off that Bob is crossing the tarmac as soon as he sees that unhinged anger in your eyes, the one that usually prefaces some sort of discipline from the higher-ups.

"You son of a bitch!" You spit at Jake, pointing at him accusingly, throwing your helmet on the tarmac. "You gave Maverick the shot! Fuck, you basically lined it up for him!"

Jake is standing beneath the golden sun, his eyes narrowed as he squints at you under the bright sky. He likes seeing you like this--angry. Like, really, really angry.

"Me?" He asks dumbly, pointing to himself.

You have half a mind to scratch those green eyes out of his pretty face. You stomp towards him, hastily wiping the sweat off your face with your sleeve.

"You!" You shout, puffing your chest out as you square up to him. "You fucking--you-you-!"

"C'mon," Jake taunts, smirking down at you as your furrow your brows deeply. "Spit it out, nepotism baby."

Just as you're about to wallop Jake in his pretty fucking face, just as you're literally about to sink your teeth into his jugular, Bob steps between the two of you.

"Wisty, he wants you to hit him," Bob reasons, his sweet eyes pouring into yours. Jesus, you look feral right now--your teeth are bared, your eyes are glassy, your cheeks are red, you're damp with perspiration. "Do you really wanna give Seresin what he wants?"

Jake isn't surprised that someone jumped in to save your precious reputation. Typical behavior. Everyone always rushing to your aid like the big fucking baby you are.

"Maybe she does," Jake tells Bob, clapping him on the shoulder. "C'mon. Give it to me, baby."

Bob has to put his hands on your shoulders and hold you to the tarmac. He's certain that if he let you go, you'd be impossible to get ahold of again. And Jake would have to run for the hills if he wanted to avoid any major surgeries in the facial region.

"You're a fucking asshole!" You accuse Jake, little bits of saliva flinging at the skin of his face.

Jake comes closer to you--like a toddler taunting an animal at the zoo through the glass--and puckers his lips, making a lewd kissing noise.

He just fucking blew you a kiss.

Bob fights the overwhelming urge to let you loose. Fucking dick.

Jake swiftly turns on his heel, grinning, finally feeling like he has the upper-hand. But he is stopped only a few paces later when Cyclone bellows his official title.

Cyclone, who listened to the comms for once during your training exercise and witnessed the entire tarmac ordeal, has a few words for Jake.

Jake's stomach sinks. Fuck.

And he knows without even turning around that you're grinning now. Of course someone comes in the save the day again. If not Bob or Phoenix or Bradley or Maverick, then fucking Cyclone.

"Karma," you mutter to Bob, sighing deeply.

Bob nods, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He takes a look at your slumped shoulders and your slacked features and decides that he's probably okay to let you go.

"You know he just wants to get under your skin," Bob tells you warily, bumping you with a friendly elbow. "He's threatened by you."

You nod, scoffing.

"Good. I'm better than him."

Bob laughs and it makes something in your chest melt. You suddenly don't feel so angry anymore. You even smile a little bit.

"That you are, Wisty. Now, go take a shower. You stink."

You're in the middle of a much needed shower when the locker-room door suddenly rips open. You're startled enough to jump as you lather your body, straining on your tip-toes to look over the curtain at who just barged into the room.

The rooms are uni-sex, much to your dismay, and you're almost certain that everyone's in the air right now or has already showered after training. You cycle through the squadron in your head, furrowing your brows as you let the hot water boil the anger off your skin.

"Rooster?" You try, your voice echoing out on the tiles in the showers.

There's heavy footsteps--ones that are moving quick. Lug-sole boots, for sure. And if it really were Rooster, you're certain he would've come in humming or whistling or singing some dumb 80s song. And he would've called back at once.

No, this is someone else. Someone who's rapidly approaching, someone who's pissed off. They're stomping in your direction.

"I'm grounded for two fuckin' weeks."

Jake's voice is just outside your shower cubicle. All that separates your naked body from him and his rage is a flimsy shower curtain, one that is very nearly translucent.

You swallow thickly, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. You're naked for crying out loud--and he's trying to do this now? Here?

"Can this wait?" You ask, almost sounding timid.

Jake scoffs.

"No."

You roll your eyes, tipping your head back so the hot water washes over your face and hair again.

"How's it my problem that you're grounded?" You ask, your voice echoing in the vast empty room.

Jake is certain that the shower curtain is about to be set ablaze by his heated gaze. He wants to rip that shower curtain open and shake you silly for getting him in trouble the way you did. He can't see much of you besides your vague silhouette behind the curtain--that and your feet on the tile. Your toes are painted the color of a blueberry--on any other girl, Jake would think it's cute. But it's you, so he thinks it's juvenile.

"Because you just had to make a scene in front of everyone, didn't you? I bet you fuckin' knew Cyclone was watching!"

You scoff so loud that it makes your throat hurt.

"Bullshit, Seresin! I'm not some fucking cartoon villain! You fucked me up there and you know it. You knew I'd be pissed when we landed. I didn't know Cyclone was there."

Jake rakes his hand through his sweaty locks and groans loudly, starting to pace the damp tile outside your cubicle. He knows how threatening his boots against the tile must sound, how stuck you must feel right now. And a tiny part of him takes a strange sort of joy in that--of his presence being so big and looming that it holds you still.

"Yeah, well I guess life just has a way of going your way, huh, Kazansky?"

Your blood is beginning to boil again. Just the way he says your name, with all that venom and malice, it makes your nails dig into your palms.

"What's that mean, Bagman?"

He scoffs now--it's loud enough for you to hear above the blood rushing past your ears.

"It means that you have it easy! You've always had it easy! Your dad is fucking Tom Kazansky! Your daddy was a fighter pilot so he let you be a fighter pilot, too."

You're almost vibrating with anger now, hastily washing the conditioner out of your hair so you can rip the shower curtain and deliver a swift smack to his cheek.

It's one thing for him to say something about you--but it's a whole other thing entirely to bring up your father. You love your father--he's always been your real-life superhero. To hear Jake just say his name like that, just to hear him spit out Tom Kazansky like it means nothing makes you want to make his pretty eyes black.

"Oh, fuck you, Jake! Rooster's dad went to Top Gun, too, but I don't see you bringing that up every chance you get!"

"Rooster's dad is fucking dead!" Jake calls back, sighing in exasperation. "Doubt he helped him climb any ladders from six-feet under!"

Stomach gurgling, chest flushed, heart racing, you act before you even think. You rip open the shower curtain, your ears ringing, and stare at Jake. You want to hit him; you want to hit him more than you've ever wanted to hit anyone in your life. But you know that's probably what he wants.

So you just stand there, your naked body glistening with suds and heaving with every breath you huff out.

Jake stops his pacing, mouth falling open as he stares at all the skin that is suddenly on display. You look fucking pissed--your eyes are rimmed with red, your fists are clenched, your skin is quivering, your mouth is a tight line. But fuck if you don't look sexy right now; your nipples are pert and pink, all the hills and valleys of your body are slick, and that blueberry color on your toes looks mildly endearing as you stomp closer to him.

"You think I've got it easy?"

Your voice is laced with absolute malice.

Jake is backing away from you, his lips parted, his eyes wide.

"Yeah, I do," he says, but he sounds less sure now.

You point up at him, narrowing your eyes.

"Yeah, because women notoriously have it easy in the military. Right, Jake? I've never had to work hard for anything because my dad is an Admiral, right? And all the other people in this program that had parents go through it aren't nepotism babies if their parents are dead, right?"

You're getting closer and closer to him with every word that spews out of your mouth, pressing your finger into his chest, glowering.

Before Jake can answer--which he's having a hard time doing since all the blood in his brain is suddenly draining down, down, down--you get on your tip-toes to get all the more closer to his face.

Something is bubbling up in you, something that's been coming on for months. You're good at hiding your emotions, especially around your family, especially around your dad. You know how upset he gets when you're upset--even as a little girl, you did your best to conceal any sort of crying or whining around him--so you bottle all those tears and that rage and that grief inside your chest cavity. And now that you're naked and pissed and so close to Jake, it's all coming out in hot breaths.

"So, in a few months, when my dad is dead--you're gonna stop calling me a nepotism baby? Is that how this works? Or am I grandfathered in?"

There it is--sitting out in all the steamy air between the two of you. Your dad is dying. You know it, you've known it for a while now, and you're trying to come to terms with it. You haven't been able to tell anyone on base, therapy is too expensive, and you can't cry in front of your dad. So Jake gets to hear it all right now as you stand before him, soaking wet, trembling with rage.

And Jake suddenly feels like a fucking asshole. He hates to feel guilty--which is why he usually actively tries to steel himself against people's reactions to what he says--but he can feel the rusty anchor of it dragging across his chest heavily. He knows that his eyes have softened, that his shoulders are drooping. He knows it because you suddenly soften too.

"Wisteria," he says quietly, trying hard to keep looking at your face and not your breasts or your belly or your legs or your legs. "I'm so..."

And you feel like you're going to cry now--which is great. That's just fucking great. That's all you need right now is to cry in front of Jake fucking Seresin, who will probably internalize all of it to tease you about it for the next ten years.

With a sudden wave of goosebumps, you realize it. You're butt naked right now in front of Jake. Like, properly naked. And you're soaking wet. So, while you still have the slightest bit of dignity intact, you spin on your heel and start to hurry back to your cubicle. A deep blush is covering your chest and throat, climbing up onto your cheeks.

"Hey," Jake says, his voice softer than before. He reaches out before he even realizes what he's doing, wrapping his hand around your bicep.

You whip around quicker than he's expecting, your wet hair smacking his sweaty cheeks. His eyes are wide when you press your nose against his. And even though he knows you're angry at him, angry at the situation and at him and at the world, he knows that you're sad, too. You're sad in a way he doesn't quite understand but that he wants to help--really, he just wants this guilt sitting on his chest to fade.

"Fuck you," you hiss, jabbing his chest. Your voice breaks and he squeezes your arm tighter.

Jake is staring at you. His eyes are wide and his pupils are blown. His mouth is twisted and his cheeks are red and his hair is messy. He's something between pissed and elated, but you don't know what.

"Fuck you," he whispers back, except his voice holds no malice at all. It's soft, soft as the little breaths of his that are fanning over your face.

And he moves closer to you, just barely, just enough so that you can feel his hard cock against your naked hip.

Oh--you recognize that look now. It's lust. He wants you. He wants to fuck you.

Your heart is racing and when his hand moves to tenderly move wet hair off your shoulder, you shudder. Heat is beginning to pool between your legs now, the same heat that is making your lips swell with want.

You're still upset, your emotions are running high. But maybe this would make you feel better--actually, you know it would make you feel better. Between your busy schedule and all the family you're constantly entertaining, you don't have much of a dating life.

"That what you want?" You whisper finally, not moving away from him.

He nods once, swallowing hard.

Fuck.

"That gonna make you shut the fuck up?" You whisper to him, lips just barely grazing his.

And fuck if just the feeling of his lips on yours isn't already making a coil tighten in your belly.

He moans softly, pressing into you just a bit harder. You're steady on your feet, swallowing his sound with a hunger that you've never had for anyone else before.

You're slightly shocked that he's letting you take the lead, letting you talk to him that way. You're also shocked that you're about to kiss Jake Seresin in the locker room at your place of employment. But here you are, your tongue licking a hot stripe across his bottom lip until he opens his mouth for you.

But, like he knew exactly what you were thinking, he wraps your hair tightly around his hand and tugs harshly until your lips disconnect. There is a string of spit connecting the two of you, which makes something very warm grow in your belly.

"You're a bitch," he tells you, panting.

You nod blindly, desperate to press your mouth against his again.

"You're a dick," you tell him.

He moans again--a glutton for punishment. It makes you wet just thinking about all the mean things you can spew at him, all the frustration he would happily let you take out on him and his abs.

You're fumbling with his uniform and he's feverishly pressing kisses to your wet shoulders and neck, both of you moving quickly so you don't change your mind or get some sense knocked into you.

"Princess," he mumbles against your skin, sucking harshly over your collarbone.

"Entitled prick," you moan back, pushing his shirt on the floor and eagerly working on his belt buckle.

Jake can't believe this is happening. He never thought he wanted to fuck you--honestly, the thought had never crossed his mind. But now that you're here in front of him, naked and wet and ready for him, he can't believe he hasn't indulged in this fantasy before. You're so fucking hot that he's already straining against his service khakis, his mind spinning, his chest heaving. He's only ever strictly--and honestly, begrudgingly--noticed your beauty. It's hard for him to not notice beautiful people so it's usually your face that he lands on.

"C'mon," he hisses at you, dragging his calloused hands down to your breasts. "Faster."

He pinches hard enough to make you cry out, enough to make your toes curl. White-hot pleasure is raining over you, licking your heels, scorching you.

"Fuck you," you moans again, finally undoing his belt and getting rid of his pants and underwear in one swift movement.

"Plannin' on it," he whispers to you, delivering a few more sharp pinches to your nipples as he kneads the soft tissue of your breast in his rough hands.

His cock is freely pressing into your skin now, hard and hot and leaking pearlescent beads of pre-cum. He's big--he's really fucking big. You can feel all the veins around his cock pulsing, can feel how badly he wants you. If you weren't as wet as you are right now, you'd make fun of him.

"Shower," he commands, already pressing you against the wall of your cubicle.

The water is still running, clouding the room with steam, and after only a few moments both of you are sopping wet again. He's kissing you like he's trying to devour you, relentless in his harsh movements on your chest. The pleasure is almost paralyzing you, almost rendering you motionless.

But after only a few moments of his harsh movements, you finally move down and wrap your fingers around his cock. You give a few tugs, slipping your thumb over the his slit.

Jake Seresin, Jake fucking Seresin, moans into your mouth. It's a deep and throaty thing, something that shoots you straight in the core. And then he presses himself against you, holding you up with one of his arms as his other one slips between you. In one swift movement, his fingers are spreading you open and circling your clit furiously. There's no easing into it, not with him. It's hot and desperate and needy.

You're moaning, too, throwing your head back against the slick tiles, squeezing your eyes shut. And Jake is kissing feverishly across your neck, nibbling your collarbones, trying not to outwardly moan at how silky and good you feel on his fingers.

That coil is tightening in your belly, pushing you closer and closer to an edge you weren't even near when you started to shower a short while ago. But his fingers are so rough, so calloused, and they feel so fucking good against this delicate part of you.

"Make me cum," you desperately whisper, the water pouring down over the two of you deliciously.

He's still moaning at your swift movements over his cock, at the way you are giving special attention to the head of his cock the exact way he likes.

"You're such a fuckin' princess," he whispers into your mouth, biting down hard on your lower lip as you mewl desperately. "Always gotta be taken care of, huh?"

Nonetheless, he's picking up his pace, rubbing your clit in hard and fast circles. He can tell your close by the crinkle between your brows, by the way you're bucking into his hand, by those desperate little breaths that are puffing into his face. You're soaking wet, too, which makes him so hard that he thinks he might combust.

"Oh, Jake," you moan, trying to match his pace with your hips.

He keens at the sound of his name falling off your lips. And when you tangle your fingers in his hair and tug, it only encourages him to move faster.

If you weren't so close to cumming, if he his cock wasn't dripping in your hands, then you would laugh at him. Jake Seresin has a degradation and a praise kink. Typical.

"Beg for it," he mutters to you, swallowing hard.

You don't even think twice.

"Please," you whisper pathetically, mouth parted in utter ecstasy. "Please, please, please, Jake. God, give it to me, Jake. Please let me cum."

Jake's sounds are sacrilegious. He's pressing his lips agains yours harshly, his tongue folding across yours, pressing down just right until he's thrown you off the edge of a cliff and directly into the vortex of an orgasm. You convulse in his arms, shaking and nearly crying, and he swallows every single sound your pretty mouth makes.

"That's it," he coaxes, uncharacteristically soft as he works you through it. "Good girl."

Your fingernails embed themselves in the skin of his scalp.

And if he wasn't planning on fucking you just as soon as you can stand on your own two feet again, he'd endlessly tease you about the way you like to be teased. Typical.

And just as soon as you've come down, just as soon as your vision isn't whited out, you're turning yourself so your chest is against the shower wall. Jake almost moans just from the sight of your supple ass raising just slightly in the air--a signal that you're ready for him.

But he takes not a moment of hesitation. He smooths his hand down your spine, holding the meat of your cheeks in his hands, silently thanking God for his bad attitude earlier.

And you're panting, still recovering, so turned on still that you can't even speak. You know that if you did speak, you would sound downright dumb. You'll be damned before you let Jake Seresin know that his fingers alone have made you totally stupid.

"Ready for me?"

You just nod, stifling an eye roll.

He braces himself against you, a firm hold on your hips. And you brace yourself against the wall, pressing your hot cheek against the cool tile.

And just as he lines the head of his weeping cock up to your sopping entrance, just as he's about to practically rip you in two, he leans forward. You want to whine, really you do, but then he's very tenderly moving all the wet hair out of your face so he can see your pink cheek and your swollen lips and half-lidded eyes.

"You want this?" He asks, voice steady but desperate.

You glance back at him, brows furrowed slightly. He's being totally earnest right now--you can tell from the flat line of his lips and the way his eyebrows are just barely knit.

"Yes," you whisper after a moment, nodding.

He smiles, nodding.

"Good," he whispers, pressing himself into you all at once, rendering you speechless and breathless. "Cause I fuckin' want it, too."

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐞

horny!mean!Hangman rise

this has been extended to a series!! you can find all the parts on my masterlist!!

if you liked this, consider checking out my Jake x You story!

here is my tag list!!