#jake seresin drabble

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Two) (18+) / Part One

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 5.3K / navigation / inbox

A/N: if you've been on my blog anytime since last year and you've heard me mention 'my big hangman fic', this is it! I've been working on Spring Fling for almost a year now, and I'm so excited to share it with you. I hope you enjoy this, and I'm glad so many new people are making their way into our top gun fandom because of twisters and Glen's role in it. Welcome, and enjoy!

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

An uncomfortable nap taken out of sheer spite does nothing to improve your mood. Your neck is stiff now, as is your spine, and it pops when you stretch from your place on the tiny loveseat.

“Well, Sleeping Beauty has risen,” Jake grins, the cocky expression boiling your blood, “Ready for dinner, sunshine?”

“I’m going to push you off of this boat.” You grumble, and Jake blinks, toning his smile down into a grimace.

“Well, maybe some food’ll improve your mood.” Jake rises from where he’d been presumably sleeping as well, though you’re surprised he fell asleep after you and woke up before you. His bedhead gives him away, and he runs his fingers through it, “We’ve got a table reserved in the restaurant for 6, darlin’. We should get there a little early, though, wanna head out now?”

Your nose wrinkles involuntarily, though you wouldn’t have stopped it, “You reserved us a table? I’m not eating with you.”

“We eat together all the time,” He scoffs, “Come on, Y/L/N, this is no different from eating in the mess hall.”

“It’s different because everyone who sees us is either going to think we just had sex, or that we’re about to,” You protest, but he’s out of sympathy to feign.

“Or both,” He grins, running a hand once more through his slightly less messy hair. He’s still barely dressed, and it takes effort for your eyes not to naturally drift away from his face. 

“You’re usually wearing a uniform when we eat in the mess hall, Hangman,” You narrow your eyes at him, glancing pointedly below his neck to his bare chest, but straying no further, “Unless they’ve hired you to be a stripper on board, and I’m just now finding out?”

“Nah, I auditioned but they said I was too good,” He crosses his bulging biceps over his chest, a haughty smirk on his face, “I didn’t wanna steal any tips from the ladies.”

“Right,” You drawl, aiming to move past him to reach your suitcase that’s been mysteriously moved from beside your head to the side of the bed opposite from where Jake had been sleeping. Except, the man blocking your path doesn’t move, and you’re stuck in the small hallway-like space that the loveseat is squished into.

“Hangman,” Your teeth are gritted, and they warp your words slightly, “Move. I need my suitcase, I’m going to change for dinner.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with your dress,” He eyes the fabric with feigned consideration, “Except of course that it’s a little long. It only needs to go up to about here,” He snakes a hand towards your waist, laying two hefty smacks against the skin on your hip that lines up just beneath the curve of your ass. He moves faster than you can back away, but you land a valiant smack against his hand when he withdraws it, “Then you could join my stripping act.”

“Hangman, if you touch me again, I’ll rip off your balls,” You swear, but there’s still a glint of mischief far too bright in his eyes for your liking, so you shove past him, making sure to tap your knuckles gently between his legs for good measure.

He groans, hunching over and breathing heavily, “Shit, Y/L/N, you trying to take out the Seresin line?”

“It’s not that bad,” You drawl, setting your suitcase on the bed and delving into its contents, “But a world where you can’t reproduce sounds like one I want to live in.”

You’re already halfway to the bathroom, your evening dress in hand when he calls back, “You act all high and mighty now,” You can hear the grin that Jake’s voice indicates, even if he’s rummaging through his own suitcase for something to wear, “But later tonight I’m gonna have you beggin’ for me to knock you up, darlin’.”

Jake’s efforts to break into the bathroom you’re changing in are certainly impressive, if nothing else. He tries the knob at first, like you’d have forgotten to turn the lock before stripping naked. When you demand a reason he claims he’d forgotten his deodorant, which is a perfect excuse seeing as you miss no chances to point out his sweat-stench after training.

You spot the stick on the counter and give yourself the satisfaction of rolling your eyes, even if he’s not present to see it.

The second time he knocks, having learned his lesson, “Y/N, I need to pee.”

“I’m changing!” You cry, the straps on your dress proving impossible to untangle. Apparently being jostled in a suitcase wasn’t ideal for the dress’s shape.

“Changing what, seasons? By the time you get dressed our leave will be over, and you’re gonna have to get back into uniform.”

“If you’re so anxious to get to dinner, go by yourself!” You insist, frustration laced tight to your tone, “I’ll figure this fucking dress out, enjoy a leisurely meal, and then I’ll meet up with Daniel afterwards!”

You’re so used to Jake’s rapidfire quips that the silence ensuing after your declaration feels awkward. But it’s a victory, one that you don’t often win against the man outside the bathroom door, and you let it ease the sharp sting of annoyance that your dress is needling into you.

A fist lands heavy against the door, and Jake’s voice is unusually devoid of mirth, “Open up.”

“Jake, no!” You spit out his first name like a hex, “I fucking told you-”

“I’m going to help you,” He calls through the door, knocking incessantly, “Come on, you said you can’t figure out your dress, I’ll help you.”

“Nice try!” You scoff, finally pulling at the correct string and watching as the others fall into precarious place around them. You jab your arm into the hole it’s created and slip the rest of them into formation, standing triumphant in front of the mirror and realizing you look quite like you’ve had sex after all.

You smooth down a few flyaway hairs, grab Jake’s deodorant, and fling the door open, just as Jake flattens his hand to slam his palm into the wood, no doubt trying to make more noise than a simple knock.

You’re looking at his face, and he’s looking at yours, but both of you can feel his hand pressed firmly into your tit. You don’t doubt that he’d intended to hit the door instead of you, but he’s not moving away, either. You both stand paralyzed until his brain catches up with his body and he jerks his hand away, lashes fluttering as he blinks bewilderedly despite the wry grin purposefully etched into his features in an attempt to remain nonchalant.

“Didn’t mean to do that,” He simpers, and you’re certain that’s the closest to ‘I’m sorry’ he’s ever given you. You know him well enough to know he’s adequately flustered, but outsiders might not catch the barely-there pink tinge to his tan cheeks, too distracted by his charming smile.

You overlook the accident if only to save yourself the awkward confrontation, ducking your head and shoving the deodorant stick against his chest. His hands come up to catch it and you make a break for the heels you’d set out by the closet, intent on strapping them on instead of talking to him.

He mumbles a distracted, ‘Thanks,’ when you hand him his deodorant, but the stick remains firmly capped in his hands as his gaze trails after you.

“Your dress looks nice.” He concludes, voice a tone softer than it normally is. It’s- nice. You’re too used to the bite of his southern drawl, the way he pairs a cocky quip with an eye-roll more vicious than even the most belligerent teenager. Now they’re soft and gooey-brown as he stares at the straps on your shoulders. This isn’t the first kind thing he’s ever said to you, but it’s certainly the first in a long time, and you swallow the urge to use it against him.

“Thank you.” You grumble, then, to steer away from the thick silence you’ve been enveloped in, “Not sure it’s worth it, though, those straps were fucking confusing.”

You swear you hear a mumbled, ‘It was,’, but Jake’s back is turned to you as he sets his still-capped deodorant on the bathroom counter, so you can’t be sure.

You’re surprised to find that the elevator is just as empty as you’d left it when you and Jake board to head to the 9th floor. The restaurant Jake had reserved your table at is upscale, and you presume everyone else is too busy boning to manage a sit-down meal. You settle against the back wall of the elevator in silence, looking but not watching as Jake presses the 9 button with a thick finger.

The last time you were in this elevator, Daniel was backing you up against the railing and kissing you.

Just the thought brings heat to your cheeks, and you’re thankful for the support that the wall behind you offers. If it wasn’t there, you’re not sure your weak knees would withstand the crushing weight of your weighty crush.

“Was that where he sucked your face?” Jake’s voice shatters your reverie into a million tiny, unsalvageable pieces, and you forget any momentary truce that you might have had with him only moments ago.

“Excuse me?” You level a glare at the man across from you, unimpressed with his accusation even though it was accurate, “He did not suck my face. He kissed me like a gentleman.”

Jake lets out a bark of laughter, “Right. Because gentlemen smear a woman’s lipstick halfway over her chin.”

Despite knowing you’d have seen any makeup smudges when you’d been in the bathroom earlier, your hand darts to your chin.

Jake takes it as an admission of guilt, and his sharp grin only grows, “Exactly. I’ve sucked faces before, I know what the result is.”

A rather unsavory memory assaults you of Jake crowding a vacationing New Yorker up against a wall of the Hard Deck. You push away the nauseating burning in your chest at the image, intent on never seeing Jake Seresin’s tongue inside of anyone’s mouth but his own again.

“You suck faces,” You conclude, still slightly bothered by what you’d recalled, “Daniel kisses.”

“Daniel,” Jake snorts, grasping for something to tease, “That’s not a very moan-able name, is it?”

“Neither is Jake,” You retort, “Jake sounds like a toddler running loose at the mall.”

“That’s why the ladies call me Hangman,” Jake grins, his eyes narrowed in an attempt at a smirk, “Well, some of ‘em call me Hungman by the end of the night.”

“Oh,” Your face twists into a grimace, and you’re thankful for the dinging of the elevator, “You’re not allowed to talk at dinner.”

“Only way you’ll get me to shut up is if you gag me, darlin’.” Jake laughs, stepping out of the elevator and following behind you even as you storm ahead towards the entrance to the dining room.

It’s an opulent room, chandeliers and crystal adorning every surface. You slow your pace before you reach the reception desk, so that the poor employee doesn’t think you’re going to vault over the counter and attack him, but you’re fairly certain there’s still a scowl on your face when you attempt to speak with him.

“We have a table reserved,” You inform the man, conscious of Jake’s impressive build lingering behind you, present and firm, “Room 838?”

With a quick few buttons pressed on the screen before him, the host nods, customer service smile on full force as he gestures to his left, “Of course, right this way.”

You let him lead, and you try not to get distracted by the grandiose decor. Whether it’s authentic material, or just plastic spray-painted gold, it’s beautiful, and you’re so absent-minded that you don’t acknowledge your table until you’re stopped in front of it.

“Here you are; have a lovely meal.” The man politely excuses himself, heading back to the front to greet whoever else is waiting to be checked in for their tables.

You’d been too overwhelmed by finding out that your hot sexy mystery man was actually your brutally combative fellow pilot to think about what dinner would entail beyond heated bickering. He’d drawn a comparison to the mess hall and your brain had run with it, but this is decidedly different from the drab benches you’re used to.

This is a small, delicate, round table, a white tablecloth draped elegantly overtop. It’s two candles, giving off a small aura of warm light around the dim restaurant, crystalline dishes framed with polished silverware. It’s an enclosed space, it’s knees brushing and eyes twinkling with candlelight, it’s electric shocks when skin meets skin. It’s romantic by design, and you refuse to share it with Hangman.

But you can’t refuse.

The waitstaff is limited and overworked, evidenced by the mountain of covered trays you see them rushing to different tables. It would be rude to storm out, and while you’re not worried about offending Jake, you don’t want to inconvenience the staff.

Jake sniffs out your internal conflict by only a glance at your stiff stance, a skill he’s acquired after years of working out the perfect way to get under your skin. He can read you like a book, and he knows fury and guilt are waging war in your head right now.

You’d like to think he thought fury would win, but it’s guilt in the end. You step towards your chair, reaching out with two fingers to pinch the candle on your side of the table. The flame snuffs out beneath your touch, and the mild burning sensation is worth it to hear Jake scoff.

“Nicely done, killer,” He drawls, sounding offensively unperturbed by your obvious dislike of him. To your complete and utter indignance he reaches behind your back to pull the chair out from it’s seat, offering it to you as a peace treaty.

You are not a peaceful person, not when it comes to Hangman.

You take the opposite seat, maintaining sharp eye contact with Jake as you sit down. He inhales, and you take satisfaction in the puff of his chest, a telltale sign that he’s beginning to get aggravated. He lowers himself into his own seat, but notices the way your hand darts for the one candle that’s still lit, and he snatches it out of your way before you can snuff it out. It causes the silverware on the table to rattle, and you and Jake are required to send placatingly charming smiles to the people at nearby tables who turned at the commotion.

He turns that once-dazzling grin on you like a weapon as he relights the blackened wick of the candle you’d pinched, letting it burn once more to illuminate his features.

You don’t waste a second in snuffing it out again, “The point was so that I didn’t have to see your ugly face.”

“You are the most charming dinner guest I’ve ever had the pleasure of dining with,” Jake croons, unflappable as ever, “Put your napkin on your lap, Y/N, it’ll keep your dress dry when you’re drooling over me.”

You take ash-stained fingers and leave streaky, dark prints on the white cloth napkin, draping it over your lap and folding your hands neatly over it.

“Careful, Hangman,” You warn, your voice low and your face deceptively cheery as you nod kindly at a passing waiter, “They gave me two different knives to stab you with.”

“God, why are you so pissy?” He asks, and for a moment, you don’t know the answer. It catches you off guard, and that’s never supposed to happen, not around Hangman. He speaks again before you have the chance to respond- typical.

“So, we ended up on the same sex boat. Whatever, Y/L/N, shit happens.” His jaw is tense, fraught with annoyance while his eyes blaze like the jet engines he’s so used to gunning, “I’m just teasing, y’know. You know me, I’m not a monster, I’m not going to force you to have sex with me. If you don’t want to, then we won’t, and that’s that. You don’t have to keep snapping at me, I won’t bite you.”

It’s possibly the most heartfelt, sincere thing that Hangman has ever said to you, albeit in exasperation, and you’re not sure you’re comfortable with that. Your rapport with the man has always been full of quips and jabs, nothing like what he’s just unleashed. You’d known he must have had a soft side, but you thought perhaps he’d left it back in Texas, because this is something new. You see a waiter approaching from behind Jake and smile politely at them, clueing your dinner date in to their appearance.

“Unless you want me to,” Jake adds with an insufferable wink, using the last few seconds that you’re able to speak freely to tease you. 

“Welcome,” The waiter smiles, once more with that impeccably tuned customer service politeness as he hands a wine list to Jake, “What can I get started for you this evening?”

As much as you hate to admit it, Jake’s teasing quip is familiar, a well-worn blanket you find comfort shrouding yourself in, and it breaks the awkward tension that had arisen when Hangman had spoken so sincerely towards you.

You don’t dare let a smile grace your features, but one tries; instead you settle for a kick to his shin beneath the elegant white tablecloth.

“We’ll have- mm! The- uh, the…” Jake trails off, eyes roving down the selection and realizing too late that he’s more attuned to cheap liquor in a beachside bar than he is to elegant pairings of food and wine. He recovers quickly, that special brand of Seresin charm, grinning across the table at you, “Actually, we’d like it if you surprised us. Money’s no object,” He throws in a grotesquely over-the-top wink, “Just make it special for my roommate here.”

Your teeth ache as you grind them together in a smile, and you swear you can feel your right eye begging to twitch, “How considerate of you, Jake.”

“Anything for you, dear,” He replies easily, accepting two dinner menus from the waiter and thanking him. You maintain the common courtesy of waiting until the poor man is out of earshot before tearing into Jake, and he’s lucky he’s got both of the menus still in his hands, or you’d smack him upside the head with one.

“I’m not paying out of my ass to get drunk at a candlelight dinner with you.” You hiss, courteous of the other patrons, but barely able to contain yourself.

“No, you’re not.” He agrees, blinking like he’s not sure why you’re close to shouting, “I am.”

“That’s- ooh!” You fume, eyes clamped shut and jaw so tight it hurts. You take a second to breathe, “Hangman, you know damn well I don’t like owing you money.”

You have a very strict no-loans policy, though it only applies to yourself. You have no problem spotting Natasha for a few drinks, or treating Javy to animal fries at In-N-Out, but you’d rather die than let someone use their dollar for your snack at a vending machine. Feeling like you owe something makes your skin crawl, and it’s something your friends have all had to accept. All, of course, except for Hangman, who seems to delight in making your skin crawl.

“You don’t owe me money,” He laughs, taking a sip of the glass of ice water that had been waiting at his place on the table, “And you don’t owe me anything else either, darlin’. I’m paying for the wine.”

“Then I’m not drinking it,” You decide, still caught in your blustering fury, “I’m too tired to deal with your bullshit - you can mill around the ship and beg some poor woman to drink with you, and I’ll go back to our cabin and sleep.”

You wish that the man across from you wasn’t so adept at setting your nerves on fire. You chalk it up to years and years of flying together, at each other’s throats despite being on the same team, but Jake really is able to infuriate you with something as simple as a grin. The way that hollow manipulation glazes over his eyes each time he doles out a charming smile makes your chest burn, and you wish you could get a handle on your frustration. It’s embarrassing, really, that he knows how to pick you apart and induce insanity; you wish you improved at resisting him through practice, but that’s not how it works. It only gets worse, worse and worse and worse until you’re sitting across from him at a candlelit table, yearning to whack him over the head with a black-foldered menu.

“Fine,” Jake snorts, setting the glass down in the wet indent it had made on the tablecloth before, condensation beading at its base, “You don’t have to have any. But you have to take me back to our room - if I get wine drunk, you’ll have to stop me from kissing everyone.”

The startling admission does exactly what Jake intended it to, and you’re caught off guard, the rapidly ticking bomb of frustration inside your chest temporarily disarmed. 

“You’re a drunk kisser?”

“A winedrunk kisser, yes ma’am,” Jake nods, the ammunition he supplies you with a far cry from his typically competitive nature, “First and only time I’ve ever had wine was at my sister’s wedding a few years back.” He reminisces, still holding tight to both menus as candlelight flickers on his tanned face, “She wasn’t necessarily thrilled that I started kissin’ on the groom, but I looked good in the veil when the photographer came around.”

He’s good-natured about the snort you let out in response, and finally he offers the menu to you like an olive branch, “You gonna whack me with this thing?”

“How’d you know I wanted to?” You arch an eyebrow, taking the menu from him. Prices aren’t listed - the cost of your meals was included with the boarding pass, but extras like drinks are something you’ll need to pay a tab on later. Nevertheless, the food looks to be worth your money.

“You get this look in your eye when you’re feelin’ feisty,” Jake notes, taking a look at his own menu, “Your jaw gets all tight, and I start gettin’ the urge to cover my crotch.”

Today was not the first time you’ve ever whacked him in the balls; evidently he does learn, even if he chooses not to apply that knowledge.

You neglect to respond, no longer irritated enough to tell Jake that he’s deserved every hit he’s taken from you, but never vulnerable enough to apologize. Instead you bury yourself in the menu, appreciating the array of cuisine that you’re not often treated to on a naval base. 

Jake lets you remain silent until the waiter comes back with the wine that he’d ordered, and you nod in thanks with a poorly-concealed clenched jaw to the man when he pours you a glass.

“That looks wonderful, thank you,” Jake gushes, eyes slightly narrowed as he raises his glass to his nose, inhaling the aroma wafting from the wine that he swirls gently, “Smell that, darlin’, ain’t it good?”

You reach for your portion with tense fingers that nearly shatter the stem of the glass as they wrap around it. The scent of the wine is oh-so-tempting; surely Jake’s objective for getting you to smell it was to wear you down into tasting it.

You won’t give in.

“Smells fantastic,” You concede, and if the waiter’s realized he’s in the lion’s den, pinned between two aggressors ready to rip into each other’s throats once more, he doesn’t show it. He merely bows, stepping away again and leaving the bottle on your table.

“That’s good,” Jake muses nonchalantly after a sip, glancing down at the menu in his lap as if you’ll believe he’s perusing it instead of plotting a way to make you explode at the table. 

“Well I’m glad you like it, because you’ve got a whole bottle to finish,” You snipe, “I’m not a toddler, Jake, you can’t trick me into eating my broccoli by pretending it’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Who said anything about tricking you?” He leans back in his chair, wine set back on the table, “Y/N, I can enjoy a nice glass of wine without it being about you, thank you very much. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you, and you’re not the only thing I think about.”

You’re more than used to Jake’s accusations of your egocentrism, not because it’s true, but because it’s what he defaults to whenever he can’t think of a response, but is too stubborn to let the issue go. They don’t worry you anymore like they used to, but they do irritate you, and you’re glad for the deep, smooth voice that calls your name from your left to distract you from Jake’s insults.

You know it before you turn; Daniel is there with his roommate. She’s gorgeous, her dark hair intricately braided and styled, a compliment to her skin that’s only a shade lighter, and you’re only slightly jealous of the way his arm is draped around her middle. You quell it by reminding yourself that you’d frenched him in an elevator only hours after meeting him, and this is a cruise meant for casual sex.

Perhaps your voice is a notch too sincere when you greet him, “Daniel.”

You miss it, your attention fixed on the couple approaching your table, but a muscle jumps in Jake’s jaw as it tightens. 

“Well, I guess you’re all some people think about,” Jake drawls, his grin now wolfish and lethal, and while your voice was slightly too kind, his voice is slightly the opposite, scathing in a way, “So you’re- uh, Elevator Boy?”

Daniel’s slight smirk is bashful where he bites the inside of his cheek and nods, “I guess that’s accurate. I- uh, I hope you don’t mind.”

“He doesn’t,” You reply before Jake can conjure up any more misplaced snark, “We’re not hooking up.”

Daniel’s brows furrow for only a split second, a confused reaction he hadn’t been able to politely mask in time. His roommate glances back at Jake, and the knit of her brow is less fleeting; clearly she’s thinking you’re out of your mind for not fucking him.

“Random roommates don’t always work out, I guess,” Daniel smooths over the awkward silence that’s befallen your table, and you want to kiss him for it. Well, you want to kiss him regardless, but now you’re positively fiending for a repeat of earlier.

“He’s my coworker,” You explain, “We really can’t.”

“Oh!” He laughs, and his roommate seems equally amused by your poor fortune, “That’s crazy, and- there’s no changing roommates, is there?”

“She’s stuck with me,” Jake continues aiming that deadly grin towards Daniel, and you’re surprised he hasn’t caught on fire yet. 

“Well, if you ever want to switch for a night,” Daniel squeezes his roommate’s side, his fingers ghosting over her exposed skin in the cutout dress she’s sporting, “I’m not an idiot; Danica’s ogling you.”

You marvel at the friendly banter they share after only a few hours of knowing each other, but Daniel seems fantastic to get along with. Danica laughs at his teasing and manages to look barely bashful when she nods at you, “I wasn’t gonna say anything when I thought you two were enjoying yourselves, but I’d be happy to step in if you wanna get lucky for a night.” 

“That sounds great,” You jump at the offer, but Jake speaks at the same time, voice a hair louder than your own.

“We’re not interested.” He dismisses Danica’s offer but he looks at Daniel to do it, something dangerous gleaming in his eyes that you’re only used to seeing on the tarmac.

A laugh escapes your throat, horridly disguised as something casual and not your breaking point, “Oh, we aren’t interested? I am.”

Jake blinks, shifting his sharp gaze towards you, “No switching rooms, Y/N.”

“That’s for official placements,” You sit up straighter in your chair, turned fully towards Jake now instead of angled towards Daniel, “But they’re not gonna come check on us at two in the morning to make sure we’re all in our bunks. We can swap for a night.”

“I don’t know why you’re fighting so hard for a night in his bed, the elevator seemed to work just fine. Maybe Danica and I can have a few drinks tonight, and you can slip off and defile floors 1-4.”

“That’s not-” You’re hot on Jake’s trail, intent on defending Daniel and pointing out the hypocrisy in Jake’s scathing statements, but a firm hand falls on your shoulder that silences you. Daniel’s grip is firm, but not painful, more grounding as his touch practically sucks the fire out of your veins and replaces it with calm.

“I think drinks after dinner are a great idea.” Daniel speaks coolly, with all the perfect composure you wish you had around Jake, instead of the barrel of gunfire perpetually smoldering inside of you.

“Me too,” You add, and one of Jake’s eyebrows ticks up.

“Really? I thought you said you were going to bed after this. Something about being too tired to deal with-”

“Your bullshit, Hangman.”

What you engage in next would preferably be described as a battle of wills, but to the outside eye, might look like a staring contest. It’s your vicious glare against Jake’s lazy grin, eyes alight with mischief as he does what he does best - piss you off.

“We’ll plan on drinks, then,” Danica breaks the ice, and you’re grateful for the tones of her sweet voice, “There’s a bar on the ninth deck, do you want to meet there?”

“That sounds great,” You hope she takes your kind smile for what it is; gratitude, “We’ll head there when we’re finished with our food.”

“Right,” Daniel nods, squeezing your shoulder and letting go, taking Danica by the waist once more to lead her to the table their water had pointed at, “See you then.”

Whatever farewell you murmur is lost in the general hubbub of the restaurant, something that you wish would happen to the grating tone of Jake’s drawl.

“So,” He muses, playing coy, but you won’t have it, “You’re not tired anymore?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” You steel yourself, inhaling and letting your chest puff with the breath, “But whatever you’re doing here; trying to ruin this for me just for shits and giggles - it’s gotta stop. I’ll leave you alone, and you can fuck as many people as you want on this ship, okay? You can have what you came here for, a week-long hookup, and all I’m asking in return is for one chance. I just want one. fucking. chance. to enjoy myself. Okay?”

His eyes cloud over throughout the duration of your speech, and it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. It’s unsettling, like something’s dimming his spirit, though you can’t tell what. You’ve quipped back at him before, practically every time he’s ever teased you. But perhaps he’s just as unsettled with your newfound sincerity as you were with his, because his face settles into a hesitant expression. You press on.

“You told me earlier that you’re just teasing me, and that you’re not a monster. If that’s true, then leave me alone.”

He looks wounded only by a slight twitch of his eye; perhaps the prospect of being around you and not lunging teeth-bared at your throat is too much to bear. But he nods, slow and rickety like the joints in his neck protest the movement, “Fine. If that’s what you want, I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.” You respond stiffly, glad for the menu in your lap as it provides an easy out for you; you’re not sure if you can stand looking him in the eyes. You’re afraid you’ll see disappointment there, perhaps real dislike, and you don’t want to find out that the only reason he speaks to you is to mess around with you. You’re content in feeling like you’re friends as well, and if he gives himself away now that you’ve asked him to ease up on the teasing, you’re not sure you’ll enjoy yourself at all on this vacation, no matter how much cheap, distracting sex you have. The truth of the matter is that you value the blossom of his friendship no matter how thorny it can be, and you’re not sure if he’s capable of playing nice without an occasional bite. 

You’re sure things will go back to normal on the weathered tarmac, but until then, bobbing along on ocean waves, you want Jake Seresin to be your friend, not your frenemy. If he’s incapable, you want no part of him.

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

[sebsxphia]

admiral jake when you’re wearing a sundress..

￫ warnings: breeding kink and sex.

￫ authors notes: tee hee! thank you so much for this incredible thot, my dear anon! 💌

i can picture this on a sunday morning. you’re getting ready to visit admiral cyclone and his family. since jake became an admiral himself, a far greater respect had been built up between the two of them.

jake was tying your little girls shoes as he asked with a smile, “where’s your mama, hm?”

she squealed in response as she saw you coming through the doorway, with your barely one year old little boy attached to your hip.

“here i am!” you cheerfully replied.

jake looked up and immediately his throat went dry. he licked at his bottom lip to try and gather some salvia as he took in the breathtaking sight of you.

suddenly, he was back in the hard deck when he met you for the first time and you were wearing a pretty little sundress.

it was the first time that you had worn one this year and jake could feel himself twitch. it covered and hugged every inch and every curve of your body. it wasn’t revealing by any means, but jake thought that you might as well have worn his favourite set of lingerie.

once all four of you were ready to leave, jake gave you a soft kiss on your lips and caught your ear.

“do you remember what happened when you wore that last?”

“mhm, he’s right here.” you chided with an all knowing smirk and squeezing at your little boy on your hip.

jake let out a low grunt and squeezed at your ass through your sundress. you had to bite down hard on your bottom lip to stop the squeal escaping you.

the day had gone by in a flurry and went off without a hitch.

jake now had your hair fisted in his palm and another gripping onto your hip. he was scrunching up your sundress material into his knuckles as he fucked you deeply from behind on your shared bed, with your kids fast asleep.

“so fuckin’ pretty for your admiral, aren’t you sweets? you goin’ to give your admiral permission to breed you again?”

the illusion of family dad jake was shattered.

this was admiral jake fucking you within an inch of your life.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

AHHHH CONGRATS ON 5K- YOU DESERVE ALL OF THEM AND SO SO MUCH MORE (I’m absolutely obsessed with your account it makes me so happy)

If you’re still taking requests could I have a bbf!Jake one where they’re at a bar again and this time someone really creepy is hitting on baby Bradshaw and even though she’s trying to get away from him, he won’t leave her alone. Cue super Jake to the rescue (and he’s pissed)

I hope this is okay and if not, don’t worry about it :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY <333

OOOH I LOVE ME SOME PROTECTIVE JAKE! And thank you sm for your kind words, lovely <3

I'm gonna say this drabble is an extension of Part 4 of BBF but really can probably be read on its own. Here we go!

5k Weekend Bash Drabbles

Brother's Best Friend - N-O Spells No

Jake Seresin x Reader

“C’mon, sweetheart, let me buy you a drink,” says the man with the slicked-back hair and smarmy leer for a third time, taking a seat at your table on the patio.

His friends at a neighboring table guffaw, apparently finding their friend’s persistent approach hilarious. You find it extremely disrespectful. “No, thanks,” you respond, again.

The man’s grin broadens as though your rejection spurs him on. He slides his chair in closer and leans in to whisper something in your ear. But, before he has a chance to speak, you decide that you’ve had enough and rise from your seat. You’d rather forfeit your table than put up with any more of this bullshit.

You start for the door to go into the bar, but the man leaps up to follow you. He catches up with you just as you’re about to enter and takes you by the arm, spinning you around to face him. “You don’t know what you’re missing, honey,” he mutters and his voice makes your skin crawl.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of Jake as he’s about to place his drink order at the counter. The disturbance near the front door has made him glance in your direction and his expression darkens when he sees you. He immediately steps away from the bar, forgetting all about the drinks he just paid for, and marches determinedly toward the door.

Before you could tell the creep to watch out, Jake is outside, curling his arm around your waist to relocate you so that he could turn back and grab a hold of the man’s shirt, ramming him into the wall, back first. “Who the fuck are you?” he growls at the – now cowering – man.

“I’m a friend, I’m a friend!” the man exclaims in alarm, his hands shooting up to show that he’s not looking for a fight.

You give the man a disgusted scowl when he looks over at you pleadingly, hoping that you’ll corroborate his statement. Jake glances over his shoulder at you too. “This true?” he asks. “You know him?”

You’re silent for a moment, wondering what Jake would do if you told him the truth. You really don’t want him getting banned from the Hard Deck for starting a fight on your behalf.

But Jake takes your lack of a response as a no and pulls on the man’s collar just to slam him back into the wall again. The man, to your great satisfaction, looks like he’s about to cry. “She didn’t tell me she had a boyfriend!” the man cries.

Jake grimaces aggressively. “Did she tell you to fuck off?” he asks dangerously.

The man gulps anxiously. “If she’d just told me she was with somebody” –

“What the fuck does that matter?” Jake shoves the man into the wall for a third time and the latter whimpers pathetically. “No is a full fucking sentence.”

“Okay, Jake, that’s enough,” you say, putting your hand on his arm. “I think he got the idea.”

Jake glances down at you with a heavy sigh and then back at the snivelling man. Then, he lowers his head and mutters in a low, intimidating voice, “You come near her again, I’m not gonna be this nice.”

The man nods vehemently and, the moment Jake lets go of him, he slips away, ditching his friends – who, admittedly, hadn’t even come to his aid – as they scramble to collect their things before following him out.

Jake turns to look at you worriedly. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking a step toward you.

You nod. “Yeah, thanks for coming to my rescue,” you reply. “Although, I totally could’ve taken him.”

Jake draws his lips together to keep from smiling; he’s not ready to find the humor in the situation quite yet. “You shouldn’t have had to,” he remarks.

You shrug and meet his gaze. “I’m glad you were here.”

Jake nods and then takes your shoulder and pulls you into an embrace. “Me too,” he says.

You close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to enjoy the hug because there isn’t often an excuse to lean in while Jake Seresin just holds you. In fact, you can’t think if a single time in recent history when this type of scenario has taken place. Suddenly, you’re not too mad about the creep that almost ruined your day.

“Where’s my brother?” you ask once the two of you separate.

Jake sighs with a grin and shakes his head. “He took off.”

“What? With that chick he just met?”

Jake nods sheepishly, as though he’s somehow to blame for Bradley’s promiscuity. You grin at him. “Perfect,” you say. “Now, we have plenty of time to talk about the thing.”

Jake cringes and lets out a defeated groan.

5k Celly

[inkdrinkerworld]

hi honey!! if you’re still taking requests for your holiday event, can I get ⟼ Cranberry and Peppermint Honey cake with shy!reader and jake seresin pls? love u sm x

Hi baby! They’re still very open!! I hope this is okay, it’s been a while since I wrote for Jake!

“Darlin’ you gonna come out so I can see it?” Jake’s on the other side of your changing stall, a couple of pants options thrown over his forearm as he waits.

You’ve been in there trying on a pair of thick linen blue trousers- something that you’d been eyeing on the stores website.

“I’m not sure if I like it,” you say through the door, though you know Jake is gonna want to see it for himself.

“Can i be the judge of that, pretty thing?” He flirts, listening to the door unlatch and then stepping back so he can see you fully.

The pants look amazing on you and Jake doesn’t hold back from letting you know.

“Babydoll, are these painted on?” He hangs the rest of the pants on the rack of the door and lets his hands hover over the curve and dip of your hips. “Gimme a spin, god damn you look good.”

When you spin, Jake does a low whistle that has you hitting his chest before hiding your face between the muscles of his chest.

“Stop it,” you murmur, completely embarrassed as you clench your eyes shut.

“But these look amazing on you, little lady.” He’s busting out all his southern charm and it’s hard to stay mad when his Texan accent gets all the more thicker for it.

“Jake,” you try for stern but he knows you’re just getting more and more flustered.

“Babydoll,” he says with less ‘vitriol’ and more fondness. “Do you think I’d lie to ya? No I wouldn’t, now go try it with this low cut top,” he produces a top from the selection hanging on the door. “Its gonna be perfect.”

He stamps a kiss to your lips before you can close the door and chuckles when he hears you muttering about ‘southern charm’ and ‘that damn dimple.”

[spasmsofthought]

the risk (is drowning) [jake seresin x f!reader]

This little 1k piece is 100% inspired by the song Risk by Gracie Abrams. What a masterpiece this song is.

Also a special dedication to all my anxious wallflower girlies (especially those in their mid-to-late twenties). You are seen and loved. You will be wanted. xoxo

Warnings: Some indirect allusions to anxiety/social anxiety.

Please like, comment, reblog. Let me know what you think! xo

on A03 here

+++

"It feels like the universe is pranking me."

The bar is loud and bright and crowded, even in the shadows of the back corner where you and your roommate Alexis are sitting on stools. A remixed pop song is playing from the speakers in the room - it sounds like something you heard in CVS three days ago while picking up your prescription strength Benadryl. Damn hives. You knew better than to let Jessica be the one to choose the takeaway order for lunch. She never remembered anybody's food allergies.

"I wonder," You continue speaking as you swirl the straw in your club soda, "if I'm on some alien reality version of punk'd. I feel like there's a camera trying to catch me over my shoulder. I keep waiting to hear a laugh track in the background."

Alexis just sighs from across you. Then she gives you the look that she's been giving you all evening - full of love but also half-reproach and half-amusement.

"I think you might've coordinated my outfit for nothing," You look down at the number you're wearing. It's something that's much different than you're usual look - not as casual and more flashy. It screams look at me with several exclamation points. You don't remember the last time you wore something to make someone else notice you - not intentionally. You don't really know for sure if it's helping you feel more confident or more like a poser.

"I wore mascara for no reason." You slump against the wall at your back. "He hasn't shown up. I don't even think he's going to be here tonight."

There's a minute of semi-silence where you take in the ambiance of the place. You notice that the music over the speakers has changed genres to a popular country song that has some people by the pool table swaying or singing along at the counter with beer bottles in their hands pretending that they're microphones.

"Speak of the devil," Alexis smirks at you and then points her chin towards the direction of the front door. She's not wrong.

There he is in all of his golden glory. Jake Seresin. Lieutenant, Naval aviator, Top Gun graduate.

He's never actually introduced himself to you; you've never met him. It's not that hard to get a beat on who he is though - he's all anyone ever talks about in this place. You notice you're staring and swivel your attention back to Alexis.

The amount of times you've daydreamed about his eyes or, God, his hands feels almost wrong due to the fact that you've never even spoken a word to the man.

He really is just your type: a blue-eyed all-American boy with a killer smile and all the confidence in the world. You can practically feel the rush of heat to your face and you bring your soda to your lips for a quick swallow.

It had been really challenging at first, pushing yourself out of your comfort zone and intentionally choosing to spend time with crowds of people, even if it's really only Alexis you ever talk to. It's taken months to feel much more comfortable even hanging in the back corner of a bar like this.

Jake had been a regular before this became your weekend hangout spot with Alexis and ever since the first day you saw him you'd known that he wasn't the type of person to escape anybody's notice. Whether it's his natural charisma or a learned charm, you looked at him once and haven't stopped looking.

Your life has always felt more monotone - shades of black and white with spots of blue or green or yellow or pink here and there. Even from far away, you can tell that Jake Seresin's life is in full, vibrant technicolor. You keep wondering what that must be like.

"If there's any time to shoot your shot it'd be now, before the groupies surround him." Alexis advises you.

He's just making his way to the bar counter after calling out greetings or doing that weird bro handshake guys do with each other when they're acquaintances but don't know each other that well.

You don't know why you came tonight, why you confessed this to her in the first place. You don't know why your mind has been stuck on a Jake Seresin loop. Why this has been the one thing it hasn't let go of.

You're almost ready to bolt out of there, indecision weighing heavy on your shoulders. The indecision isn't even the worst part because you're friends with indecision. It's been there for you all your life.

It's the fact that you want to go up there and introduce yourself to him that's actually terrifying. You can't remember the last time you wanted something like this. Have you?

"If you don't get up and go over there yourself, I will make you."

Your mom used to tell you that the only way you started learning how to swim as a young girl was when she tossed you into the deep end of the pool with a swimming instructor and you had to learn first-hand, in the moment, how to paddle in water to keep from drowning.

"But he's so hot," You whisper, leaning across the table as your hands start to shake, "I'm no supermodel on a runway. I've never even had a boyfriend."

"How have I never known that you're in your late twenties and never had a boyfriend?" Alexis gapes, one of her hands coming to cover your shaking ones.

"Never even been on a real date, actually." You grimace and lean away, pulling your hands out from under hers.

"I'm not going to force you," Alexis softens, "If you're really not ready, we can go and come back some other time."

You take a deep breath in, then a slow breath out. "What if he shoots me down?" What if I drown in rejection?

"Remember what you said when we took that philosophy course on morality in grad school and we were arguing about what it means for a person to have 'character'?" You frown at Alexis' words. Grad school, where you met her and became life-long friends, feels like a lifetime ago. "You said, 'It's your motivations and actions that make you who you are.' If you go over there and he's the one that rejects you, that is communicating something to you about who he is. His rejection is not about you."

You take a second breath and shrug, "That makes sense, I guess."

"There's a reason I'm your best friend y'know." Alexis flips her hair over her shoulder.

"I'm worth this," You nod your head adamantly, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. But your eyes don't meet nothing. It's only a quick glance, but there's a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. Something that tells you that you won't be making a complete fool of yourself.

"Damn right you are," Alexis says.

You slowly stand up from your seat against the wall, shaking your hands out. You're going to let what you want override your indecision and anxiety, even if it's just for sixty seconds.

"Okay, okay, okay," You whisper to yourself. Taking a step and then turning back towards Alexis.

"You've got this," She reassures you. "Go, be brave."

Your turn around and walk forward, Jake Seresin in your sights. Maybe you in his, based on the second glance your garner. You turn your head one last time to give Alexis and anxious, unsure smile and then you walk the rest of the way to the bar counter by yourself. You don't look back.

[cherryobx]

Hi! Congrats on the celebration!!!!!

Turn the radio up! - give me a song you love, and a character and I’ll write a blurb or a full-sized fic based on that With Jake Seresin and Black and White by Niall Horan, please? Thank you so much!

a/n: thank you so much nonnie! i absolutely love this song!

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader

summary: Jake is unable to keep his tears at bay when you sees you walk down the aisle

warnings: mentions of reader wearing a dress, jake is an emotional mess

Jake always knew he was going to cry at his wedding. It wasn't even a question. It was a fact.

But he never expected to start crying just at the sight of you. Maybe during the vows, yes, but not before that.

The second he saw you walking down the aisle in your absolutely stunning dress his eyes welled up. You looked as beautiful as the day he met you. You were glowing with happiness. The tears to hit him like a freight train. He wasn't expecting it.

Without saying a word Bradley handed him a handkerchief.

Jake swore he was ascending to heaven at that exact moment. He thought he was going to die because the last couple of years were replaying in his mind, his life literally flashing in front of his eyes. All the big and little moments. When you first met, first date, your first kiss, when you moved in together. All of it.

He knew he was going to marry you the moment he met you because there was no one out there who could measure up to you. You were it for him.

He's completely wrecked by the time you reach him, tears streaming down his face.

"Hi, baby." You smile at him and place your hand on his cheek, wiping away a tear with your thumb.

"Hi."

He struggles to get through the vows, making you also tear up.

You're so in love it seems unreal. You had the kind of relationship people dreamed of. You loved each other conditionally. You were made for each other and he can't help but worship the ground you walk on.

You promise to love each other until death pries you from each others hands.

He can't wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

[spidervee]

I've been thinking about honeymoon sex with Jake. How he refers to you as Mrs. Seresin every chance he gets and praises you for being such a good wife when you come on his cock

abby why must you do this to me? why must you make me thirst ever so much more for this stupid man? i love you 🌻 Jake x wife!reader; 18+ only; suggestive language and the lead up to filthy smut; not edited I am tired

You’d seen the muscles in Jake’s jaw tick when the hotel concierge had finished checking you into your suite with a warm smile and a please enjoy your stay and let us know if there’s anyway we can be of assistance, Mr. and Mrs. Seresin.

It’s almost amusing, the way Jake’s darkening green eyes watch as the elevator buttons light up one by one, his foot impatiently tapping as you both wait to be delivered to the suite on the tenth floor of the Hawaiian resort Jake had spared no cost in securing for your honeymoon.

“Tired?” Your question is innocent, your hand coming to rest gently on Jake’s bicep where it emerges from his fitted t-shirt. He quirks and eyebrow at you in response and you offer the sweetest smile you can muster. “You just seem eager to get to the room,” you continue, withdrawing your touch as the elevator doors begin to slide open on your floor. “I know you can never sleep on planes, so…”

Your teasing is cut off by Jake firmly planting a palm on your ass, a teasing smack as he steers you out of the elevator, your luggage already waiting by the door of your room.

“You think you’re mighty cute, huh Mrs. Seresin?”

Ah, so that’s what’s got him so hot and bothered. The idea of Jake being turned on by the fact that you’re his wife now makes your thighs tremble in anticipation. Nothing’s changed, not really. You still love each other the same as before you both signed that slip of paper and then fucked in the bathroom of the bridal suite while Jake tried not to tear your wedding dress. Still, you know Jake and you know his family and, despite how different he is from most of them, you know that as an eldest son from a pretty conservative Texan family, there’s something about the word wife that makes Jake feral.

“You tell me, baby,” you reply coyly, “You married me. You must think I’m adorable.”

Jake growls, fumbling to throw open the door while keeping a hand on you, his grip already rough through the denim on your shorts. “Super fuckin’ adorable,” he concedes, his accent coming out in a stronger than usual lilt, “Especially when you’re falling apart on my cock.”

You suck in a little gasp as you help Jake kick the luggage into the entryway of the suite and another, louder gasp that morphs into a giggle as he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder, the door slamming shut behind the two of you.

“Tell me what you want,” Jake whispers as he releases you onto the bed, looking down at you with wide and pleading eyes. You swallow thickly, suddenly lost in his gaze.

“I want,” you manage to rasp out, “I want my husband to fuck me until I forget everything but my name.”

Jake leans over you, places a jarringly chaste kiss on your lips. “And what’s your name, baby?”

“Mrs. Seresin.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Jealous Jake and the Biting Problem

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!Reader

Summary: Jake Seresin is your friend with benefits, but he doesn’t appreciate finding the evidence of your other sleepover buddy on your body.

Warnings: talk of and almost oral (f receiving), cursing, um…that might be it. That said, it’s still 18+

Note: I wrote this in about a half hour so don’t judge. I’m sure there are mistakes.

Words: 989

Jealous Jake Masterlist

------

You lay with your back flat against your mattress. He pushes your skirt up around your waist, kissing every bare piece of skin as he makes his way down between your legs. With a firm hand he spreads your thighs further and you shiver from his breath softly caressing your pussy. 

But then he pauses. 

“Wh–” he begins, and you hear the question in his tone before he asks it. “What is this?”

Supported by your elbows, you lean up and peer past your skirt to see his eyes glued to a specific spot on your inner thigh. He runs his finger over the sensitive skin. 

“Oh,” you say, “A, uh…bite, I think.” You rub at your temple, trying to gather the foggy drunken memories from the night before. “Yea, definitely a bite.”

His eyes meet yours, anger swirling in mossy-green irises. “Some other guy bit you?”

“Once or twice.”

“Twice?” he snaps, eyebrows shooting up his forehead. “Some other guy bit you twice. Where’s the other one?”

You chuckle when he starts to scan over all visually accessible pieces of your body for similar bruises. “I don’t know, somewhere. I didn’t really keep track, Jake.”

His stare clashes with yours. “So there could be more?”

“I–I guess,” you say, unable to process the rapidity of his questions with your brain still in its aroused haze. “Can we stop talking about this, please? Are you going to eat me out or what?”

Jake stands and you get the full view of his belt buckle hanging open, likely undone when he’d settled between your thighs so he could stroke himself as he licked you–before he got distracted, that is. 

He runs long fingers through his hair and chuckles dryly, looking like he’s trying to tamp down a panic attack. “No, I can’t focus now.”

“What!”

His eyes are wild as his hand gestures up and down the length of your body. “You’ve got marks on you that I didn’t make! That’s all I'm going to be able to think about.”

“Jake, are you serious?”

Those hands land on his hips; chest rising and falling at an unusual pace, especially for Jake, who’s rarely anything other than calm, cool, and collected, occasionally even in the midst of absolutely wrecking one another.

“Yes!”

Shrugging as best you can in your position, you say, “Ok, I’ll tell him to back off with the biting. No big deal.”

“Yea, tell him to keep his biters to himself,” he grumbles, “and then he needs to move a hundred miles away.”

At this point, you’re well aware that your dripping pussy is unlikely to be satisfied, so you sit up and let your skirt fall to bunch at the tops of your thighs. “You sound like such a child.”

He releases a scoff and, arm fully extended, points a finger at the door of your bedroom as if the other man is just outside, hanging out in your living room and making himself at home in Jake’s territory. “He’s the one with the biting habit of an annoying toddler!”

“You’ve bitten me too.”

“That is completely different!”

“Because it was you?”

“Exactly!”

You nod and wait for him to take a few breaths to allow for his voice to drop to its usual octave. When he looks calm enough, with a snort you ask, “Should I just get a tattoo below my belly button that says ‘No biting unless you’re Jake Seresin?’.”

“More like ‘No fucking unless you’re Jake Seresin’,” he mumbles under his breath, but you hear it so clearly he might as well have whispered it in your ear. 

“Excuse me?”

By the look on his face, he knows he’s been caught. His brow is knitted, lips folded in though it’s way too late to keep his mouth shut. He groans, spits out a curse, shifts his weight to his other foot. “I’m not seeing other women,” he says, calmly for the first time in the night. “I don’t want to, because I only want you, and I want you to only want me.”

If not for the faint pink shade making its way over his cheeks, you’d have thought yourself crazy for hearing those words. Jake Seresin and relationships did not go hand-in-hand as far as you knew. But then again, the two of you started sleeping together about three hours after Phoenix introduced you at the Hard Deck, and relationships never came up. She had joked that he was trouble, but he never actually told you himself that he wasn’t willing to sign his name in the Big Book of Monogamous Men. And you’d be kidding yourself to say you haven’t thought of it. You have a chemistry with him you’ve never known with another man, and when you go out together you always have fun. And you do like him. Plain and simple. 

You smirk, but he still looks nervous. “Well, you could’ve just said so.”

“What?”

Rising to your knees, you inch towards him until you’re at the edge of the mattress, your chest flush against his. He’s still frozen as a statue when you wrap your arms around his neck. “Jake, I don’t feel anything for him.” You press a kiss to the line of his jaw, and then another before you pull back. “It’s not like how it is with you. So if you want me, I’m yours.”

His eyes go wide and his lips part from his slackening jaw, then he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing harshly in his throat. “Really? Just like that?”

“I know. Crazy, huh?”

He finally loosens his stiff limbs. His hands fall to their natural place on your waist, fingers pressing into your skin and tugging you impossibly closer. “Fucking insane,” he whispers as he leans in, “But I’m not about to argue with my girl,” and his lips meet yours. 

------

tags (if you’re crossed out, it didn’t work for some reason. If I spelled it wrong, let me know) @marvel-ousnesss @thespeeder @nobody7102 @marrianena @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @wkndwlff @rileyloves5 @gigisimsonmars @hangmanbrainrot @withakindheartx @izzzzy-the-amazing @topguncultleader

[stargazing15]

A dad Jake blurb

Because dad Jake, I don't think there is any other explanation necessary.

Sorry, my brain can't come up with a title

Enjoy!

***

He was proud, so fucking proud of himself.

Jake had the week off and came to you with the proposal to take care of everything to lift some weight of your shoulders. Of course typical Jake, to gain some much deserved mommy & daddy time with a big smirk on his face.

So you made your husband the list, oh yeah the list with everything: grocery shopping, your daughter's schedule (from kindergarten to toddler gymnastics and what not to forget to bring with you), cleaning, ironing and not to forget the cooking. Maybe you were going to take over the ironing, just to keep all the clothes safe from burns.

Back to the present. He was walking from his car to the gate of the school, flaunting with your daughter on one hand and her backpack in his other. Sunglasses on, a tight white t-shirt showing off the muscles underneath and his dog tags visible. Jake had always liked the attention his looks attracted, but only yours and your daughter's mattered to him.

He flexed his armmuscles now and then so that every boy in your daughter's class knew not to mess with her, Jake was making sure of that, she has a strong daddy. All the 4 year olds were looking at him with their mouths open, so did their moms.

Now it was official, your daughter was holding the title of kid with the hottest coolest dad.

"He is eyecandy." "Look at him." "I am so going to get a divorce and mark him." "I call dibbs on him."

The comments stroked his ego, but he didn't care about them anymore, so he ignored them, giving all his attention to the little girl holding his hand.

After his little catwalk moment with your daughter, though Jake crumbled and got on his knees to hug the little girl and wave her goodbye.

He was proud, very proud, he brought her finally to kindergarten by himself. He could do it, everything.

"Jake!" Oh, that is a familiar voice.

There were you, did you forget he was bringing her to school?

"Forget something?" He quickly imagined the bring to kindergarten-list en checked off everything.

"Nope sweets. Everything has been taken care off."

You bring forth the lunchbox you were hiding behind your back. "Lunchbox?"

"Oh. Here sweetheart, dad forgot your lunchbox, good thing we still have mommy. Give her a kiss and go conquer school. Have fun." He said while putting the lunchbox in her backpack.

"Bye mommy, bye daddy!" And off she was.

"He is married?" "That's his wife?"

"How lucky am I that I have you? I love you sweets."

"Very lucky, love you too Jakey." He kissed you in front of all the moms, he kissed you with so much love and passion that you were already looking forward to the mommy & daddy time later today.

"Ew mommy and daddy!" You both heard your daughter scream from the playground.

Jake was a proud man, very proud that he can call himself your husband.

***

Taglist: @mrsjaderogers @bradleybeachbabe @cycbaby @mavrellover91 @iamdannyday @rhirhikingston @luckyladycreator2 @xoxabs88xox @jstarr86

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[witchwyfe]

Can I send in  “no, you can stay. i don’t mind.” for roommate Jake pls? Something about that cocky boy being soft only for his girl just gets me!!

trp!Jake 'hangman' seresin x female reader

"No, you can stay. I don't mind."

YES i agree bestie<3 thanks for requesting

You hadn’t realized that Bradley’s “small get together” had turned into a rager. Him and his girlfriend Melanie, had invited all of their friends, who also invited friends, and now their small, shared condo, is packed with people.

You had come with Jake, you technically got invited by both Bradley and Melanie, being her best friend. So for the majority of the evening, you, Melanie, and Natasha sat in the kitchen, sipping on wine and gossiping. 

Now it’s creeping past one am and Natasha’s roommate already came to pick her up, and Melanie is drunkenly snuggling Bradley in the recliner you’d helped them move into the place when they bought it. People are slowly starting to clear out, but there’s still a good handful of people lingering. 

The wine has gone to your head a little, and you stumble over to where Jake is shoved into the corner of the couch, talking to Bradley, who’s got Melanie in his lap while he rubs her back.

“Jake,” You whisper, tripping over a set of feet next to him. He’s quick to steady you, grabbing you by your waist and deftly pulling you into his lap.

“Hey darlin’,” He greets with a smile. “You all right?”

“Hm-mm.” You nod, a dazed smile on your face. “Came over to say hi, and I tripped.”

Jake glares at the unsuspecting owner of the feet you happened to trip over. “You wanna hang for a bit, or you ready to go home?”

Home. The fact that he says it, and his familiar tone settles nicely in your chest, sticky warmth spreading throughout your body.

“Stay for a little?” You wonder. “Then go home and watch tv?”

“Whatever you want.” 

You nod, pleased, cheeks warming when you realize you’ve been staring at Jake’s smile for a little too long. You move to slide off his lap, and before Jake even realizes what he’s doing, his hands fly to your waist, squeezing gently. 

“No," He starts, tugging you even closer to him. "You can stay. I don’t mind.” 

You smile, leaning farther back into him, shoulder against his chest. He’s rubbing the back of your head and you’re starting to drift off before you even know it. 

Jake’s too busy watching you to realize he never went back to his conversation with Bradley. And when he looks up, said man is giving him a smirk, raising an eyebrow. Jake simply flips him off and returns his attention fully to you. 

© witchwyfe 2023. absolutely no reposting, translating, or modifying, even with credit.

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Four) (18+) / Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 4.8K / navigation / inbox

A/N: Day two begins!! thank you to everyone who's been reading along, and if you're just finding this series for the first time through this part, welcome! I hope you enjoy, and though this chapter is a bit shorter than the others, it packs some punches. You will get more insight into why they act the way that they do in this chapter, in the next chapter! bear with them please, they're dumb </333 please let me know how you're feeling about the series so far! <3

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

Daniel’s shoulders are so broad that they block your view of both the cabin and his face, everything completely obscured by the heaving, sweaty, tanned mass of muscle flexed over you. Daniel’s toned arms frame your head, his lips tug your own into a string of merciless kisses, kisses that leave you panting when you’re granted even the slightest of respite. His cock pumps in and out of your throbbing cunt with every thrust of his strong hips, and all that you’re capable of is a pathetic stream of whines and whimpers as Daniel undoes you.

“Oh Dan- Daniel! Please, harder, I want- I want more, please!” You babble, gripping at his back, smoothing your hands and scratching your nails over every inch of his glistening, taut skin, “Please, please, I need more, please, more- harder, more, I need you!”

Pleasure shoots through your core stronger than you’ve ever felt it before, and you chase the feeling desperately, lifting your hips to press yourself into Daniel’s steady thrusts. The new angle of your body allows for your head to be tipped backwards, and you catch sight of the hazy face that had eluded your vision before. But where Daniel’s scruff blankets his face, there’s only tan, smooth skin, squared at the chin and leading into the tight, determined snarl of none other than Jake Seresin.

“Jake!”

You wake like it’s from a nightmare, a gasp leaving your throat and your stomach dropping at the image of Hangman having his way with you. You’re sweaty and sleep-ruffled, and you realize with a still-throbbing core that you’re clinging to one of his arms, rutting your hips against him like a man starved. 

Fuck. Fuck, your throat is dry which probably means that you’ve been moaning, god forbid his name, and- and he’s going to tell everyone that you’re desperate, and you’re never going to be able to look him in the eyes, and you might as well quit your job because he’s won and there’s nothing you’ll ever be able to do to make up for how ashamed you’re going to be… when he wakes up.

He’s asleep.

His lashes are softly resting above his strong cheekbones, lids covering eyes that did not witness you at your most vulnerable. He didn’t see, he’s been asleep- he doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know, which means that you never have to talk about it, which means that you can go to the bathroom and take a cold shower and pretend that you woke up on the floor instead- maybe you’ll even tell him he kicked you off in the middle of the night so that he feels bad enough not to tease you for the day. And nobody ever has to know that he’s in your dreams, whether they be that or nightmares.

You stagger out from under the bedsheets and over to the small bathroom faster than you’ve ever been awake and alert in your life, and you’re instantly relieved by the sanctuary of the bathroom when it lets you shut a door between you and Jake.

--

The slamming of the door or the squeaking of the shower knobs is not what wakes Jake. It happened to be a very loud, very wanton cry barely minutes prior, when he’d woken to find your pinched-up face buried into the heated skin of his bicep. You’d whined and whimpered and moaned until a very sizeable tent had grown in his pants, and you’d fucked your hips onto his thigh over and over and over again until he’d felt a wet patch blossom that stuck his boxers to his thigh. He’d remained civil- respectful about it, keeping still even if his mind was racing, but when you’d suddenly moaned out his own name- Jake would have reached for his cock but that was when you’d woken, and he’d already had his eyes snapped shut in the desperation of conjuring a mental image of you writhing below him so that it seemed like he was still asleep. Blessedly disguised, Jake listens as you beeline for the bathroom, and when the door slams, his eyes fly open.

A quick glance beneath the sheet reveals a stain of translucent slick that’s soaked into his boxers, big enough to account for the way you’d been grinding so desperately onto his thigh. Knowing that you’d said his name, not Daniel or Damien or Dallas or Dalton or Devon- you’d been dreaming of him. It’s enough to have Jake frantically prying at the hem of his boxers, tugging on his cock with one rough fist while the other hand prods desperately at the wet spot on his boxers for something to lick up. Jake was the name you’d said, Jake is the man you’re thinking of.

--

Jake cannot be the man you’re thinking of. You don’t have nearly enough energy when you close yourself into the bathroom to shower right away, so you take to sitting dejectedly on the lid of the toilet rather than scrubbing down right away. But you feel dirty, you feel wrong for fantasizing about the jerk from work instead of the dreamboat you’d frenched in an elevator less than 24 hours prior. It’s not fair. Why does your brain have to latch onto Jake? Why can’t you just be peacefully separate from him, why does he have to nail himself to your door and bleed through the gaps? 

And why did he have to dress you in lingerie? 

You realize you’re staring down at your pink silk-covered stomach, and your nose scrunches when you note how little fabric there is to cover what’s between your legs. Christ, he couldn’t have dressed you in something a little more modest?

Although, you suppose, you didn’t bring anything more modest. Actually, the pink getup is probably the most modest nightgown you’ve got- you’d anticipated sex. So he gets a pass on that one, but you’re still peeved about the way he won’t leave your head. 

The shower is warm and being clean feels delightful against your slick skin, washing away the sins you’d rubbed into Jake’s thigh, but you’re so disturbed by your dream- or more so it’s subsequent meaning, that you can barely enjoy any of it.

In stepping out of the shower you realize you’d been in such a rush to get in that you’d forgotten to take clothes with you. But if you’re lucky, at least Jake will still be asleep, and you won’t have to endure any-

“Fancy droppin’ that towel, darlin’? Since you got in the shower without me, I figure it’s only fair I get to see what I missed.”

Any teasing. If Jake was still asleep, you wouldn’t have to endure any teasing. But there he is, hair tousled from sleep, eyes slightly bleary, but smirk in full force as he stares at your towel-clad form.

You’d be locked and loaded with a quip back any other day, but the memory of the pleasure writhing through your veins like blood itself at Jake’s hands has thrown you severely off-kilter. Instead you stand there, winded, lost for words as a strange and unexpected surge of tears sting at your eyes.

Jake notices, blinking as the smirk vanishes instantly from his face.

“Hey, woah, that’s- don’t do that. I was just teasing, don’t- don’t do that.”

“I’m not-” You defend uselessly, blinking rapidly as you back towards your suitcase, but Jake’s concern dims into something like disappointment.

He recites, “We didn’t do anything last night. You were shit-faced and you passed out the second you were in bed. I’m not…” He struggles, glancing away from you and towards the wall in thinly-veiled distaste, “I wouldn’t do that.”

You’re almost as stunned by the accusation as he seems. The thought hadn’t crossed your mind at all, but- in another man’s hands, you might not have been safe. You hadn’t felt a sliver of distrust towards Jake, and there’s something strange about that. Would you have felt comfortable going home with Daniel? Perhaps last night, several drinks in, you would have. But now you feel a strange camaraderie with Jake, now he feels familiar and safe and you’re glad he was the one to escort you to bed. You’re not used to respecting him, to relying on him, to letting your guard down around him. But you had, and you had even forgotten that you might not have been safe until he’d brought it up himself, convinced your crying fit is because of some awful thing you think he did to you last night.

You’d much rather use that excuse, but you’ll give credit where credit is due.

“I know,” You admit softly, clutching your towel tight around your body, “I didn’t think- thank you for taking me to bed.”

He doesn’t speak- he doesn’t think he ever could. But he nods, once, face tight and stiff because if it wasn’t it’d be soft. And you’d already shorn deep into his newly unguarded, tender flesh- he doesn’t need more wounds.

“Are we eating breakfast together?” Is your indirect way of asking- nay, demanding that he eat with you as thanks for the night prior without actually asking. Because asking would be crazy, you don’t even like him.

And you don’t want to eat with him, except for the fact that you eat with him near every day, and if you’re not going to be in a candlelight setting, you might be able to convince yourself that you’re not on a sex cruise, and that you’re just eating with your fri- teammate. That you’re just eating with your teammate, and all else can be ignored. Especially your dream.

“‘Was plannin’ on it. Hey, wear your bathing suit under that,” Jake nods at the romper you’ve chosen for the day, “We’re goin’ swimming after breakfast.”

You raise a brow at his tone, “Oh, are we? I was planning on meeting Daniel.”

“Where?”

“He mentioned going to the pizza place for lunch.”

Jake snorts, “Real romantic. Well, I walked by there the other day, and the pizza place is a poolside bar. So, put on that skimpy little bathing suit I saw in your suitcase, and you can swim with me until Danny-boy gets there.”

“I don’t want to swim with you,” You feel a little like a petulant toddler snapping back at him, but it’s true. You don’t want to be splashed and dunked and held down in what will surely prove to be the most stressful time you’ve ever had in a body of water- which is really saying something, because you’d had to eject into the Pacific before. Breakfast is one thing- a thank-you. This is different and you’d rather have a tooth pulled.

“Fine, then, princess. Sit on a lounge chair and read a book. I don’t care, just come with me.” You think this might be an invitation, a genuine hand outstretched amidst the numerous other jabs you’ve taken over the duration of your voyage so far. You meet his eye, but there’s a mischievous glint in them and it’s too late to stop him before he continues, “I’ve gotta keep my lady close, or else there’ll be a swarm of other passengers beggin’ to hang off my arm, and we’ll sink the ship if everyone rushes to one side.”

It’s pathetic to admit that you have nothing better to do than go with Jake. His cockiness creates scenarios that are so easy to refuse- so tempting to reject if only to see the light in his eyes fade into a more manageable dulled hue. Now though, you’re stuck. You’re not willing to spend the entire time on board locked away in your cabin hiding from Jake- you came for the fun and sun, dammit. And being in the sun sounds lovely, and the main character of the novel you’re reading will bring you a welcome respite from Jake until Daniel comes to sweep you off of your feet.

“I am not getting in the water,” You warn, fishing your bathing suit out of your suitcase while keeping a firm hold on your towel, “I am going to sit on a lounge chair and read a book. And you’re going to leave me alone, and do whatever it is you like doing in the pool. Chase those little diving rings, maybe?”

“I’m not six.” Jake wrinkles his nose in distaste, “I use the torpedoes, like a real man.”

Your eyes itch to roll back into your skull until they’re stuck there, and you never have to see his smug face again.

“Your torpedoes, then. Get my book from out of my bag,” You nod towards your purse, “And bring your own towel, because I’m not getting one for you.”

The door drowns out the beginning of Jake’s bitching when it slams behind you, but even in the tiled bathroom you can still hear him speak.

“-prissy today, aren’t you! Y’know, the hunk on the cover of this romance looks a lot like me. And- ohhh,” Jake’s wicked laugh instills fear- real, actual fear in your chest as you rush to get dressed, “This is one of them porn books, ain’t it?”

He’s holding the book like a trophy when you finally step out of the bathroom in your bikini, the way a fisherman would proudly display a 38 pound halibut. It’s got a cowboy on the front that’s wearing a hat similar to the one Jake wears at ‘Honky Tonk Night’ at the Hard Deck, and the female lead is draped over his chest, leaning in for a kiss.

“Wanna roleplay it, darlin’?” Jake moves forward, his free hand reaching for your waist to force you against him like you’re on the cover of your novel, “You could do exactly what it says on the cover, ‘Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy’.”

You catch his arm instead and use it to give you leverage in your attempt to take back your book, but he’s holding it high over his head, and he’s tall even without his combat boots giving him a good extra inch or two. 

“Daniel’s got a bit of a southern drawl,” You choose to fight with words if you can’t win a battle of heights, and Jake’s bicep tightens in place as he tenses, muscles flexing.

“That boy’s got nothin’ on mine,” Jake tilts his chip upwards- ah, so you’ve hit a weak spot: that precious Texan heritage he boasts about.

“I like his better. It’s subtle, not too in-your-face.” You shrug, and now that Jake’s frozen, buffering, you’re able to reach up and take back your book without him fighting back. But he follows you when you step away, and your back hits the wall of the cabin when he leans forward and down to match your height.

“See that?” He inspects your expression, and even though you’re wide-eyed in bewilderment he finds something satisfying in it - “You like it when I’m in your face.”

Maybe it’s your proximity- the way his face is closer to yours than it was even in your dream last night, or maybe it’s the way he murmurs the words instead of boasting them, like they’re a secret. Something strips you of your ability to fire back, and you share a moment of silence before he pulls away and gathers a set of towels from the corner of the room.

He’s wearing his swim trunks already. You hadn’t noticed. Well, you’d noticed his lack of a shirt, but you hadn’t bothered to check what was below that. You’ve seen him in them before, a beach day with the dagger squad or a pool party for Penny’s birthday, but you’re not sure you’ve ever noticed the faint fish hook outlines on them.

“I can feel you lookin’,” Jake snickers, giving you a rather impressive view of his ass, “I’ll let you squeeze it if you admit Daniel’s not all that great.”

“The only thing I wanna squeeze is your neck, Hangman,” You scoff, hurriedly looking away from his ass and gathering your belongings- key card, phone, book that’s been discarded on the bed, “Now let’s get out of here before I change my mind and lock you out of our cabin.”

“Oh, but you’d be so bored in here without me,” Jake’s croon exudes fake sympathy, “Who would you bicker with all day?”

“Not Daniel.” You purr, grinning mischievously as you head for the elevators, your door clicking shut behind you as Jake nearly steps on your feet, “If I was with Daniel, he wouldn’t be able to talk through all the pussy on his tongue.”

That shuts him up.

The elevator ride is silent, and by the look on Jake’s face, you’d have thought he’d been declared a spare on a mission amongst a group of new recruits. HIs jaw is stone-set, sharp and tight, and his eyes bore uselessly but fiercely into the silver wall as the elevator moves up- something is brewing in that hard head of his.

Finally, some fucking peace and quiet.

Something about the ding of the elevator snaps him out of his funk, and he holds the door open to the breakfast hall for you with his signature shit-eating grin. It’s the same place you’d eaten lunch the day before, and you wish again for Daniel to knock knees with you beneath the table. It had been so cutesy, so intimate, so-

“Here,” Jake plucks two trays off of the stack, one for you and one for him, “I’ll hold it while you load up a plate.”

“I can do it myself,” You insist, snatching the tray from his hands and setting an empty plate on top of it, “I’m not falling for that act, Hangman. You’ll steal my breakfast if I let you hold it.”

“Now that’s not true,” He scolds, scooping eggs onto his plate, “I’ll steal it no matter what.”

The ship’s pancakes look surprisingly well-made, and you’re starting to marvel at how nice the amenities are for the price you’d paid. Maybe you’d been the guinea pig voyage, and they’re testing how feasible this sort of thing really is. 

“Hands off my syrup, Hangman,” You elbow him in the side, bumping him out of line for fresh pastries while you snag one for yourself, “I don’t want your sticky fingers getting all over my book.”

“So you do want me readin’ that thing,” He grins, reaching over you to pluck a chocolate croissant off of the tray, unbothered by your teasing, “I guess I’ll need to get into character. Tell me, how big is he? Anything under nine inches just won’t be realistic for me.”

“Please! I’ve heard things from Rooster,” You laugh, topping your plate off with butter packets, “Four is more like it.”

“You tell Rooster,” Hangman shoots a hand out, stopping you from snagging an empty seat at a table for two, “That he’s gotta stop swapping our measurements. Tell him to keep my name out of his mouth.” He pulls the chair out, clearly expecting you to sit.

Under his fiery, watchful gaze, you sit.

You don’t know what makes you do it; you’ve always felt Hangman’s faux-chivalry was condescending at best. He always seems to be mocking you- let me do it because you can’t, or let me do it because I don’t think you should.

Now it seems more like let me do it because I want to. And for that reason, you’ve obeyed.

Hangman’s terse mood from earlier seems to flicker in and out, but breakfast is pleasantly casual- nothing like your tense candlelight dinner the night before. 

“You’re lucky Phoenix isn’t here,” You raise your brows briefly at Hangman, eyeing the way he’s sprawled out over the bench, “She’d tell you to quit manspreading.”

“I like manspreading,” Hangman grins, thankfully concealing his mouthful of food in the process instead of showing it off, “Let’s everyone know what I’m working with.”

After a quick, fake look at his crotch, you decide, “Nothing?”

He takes the teasing good-naturedly, rolling his eyes and insisting, “You’re gonna be sorry when you find out how wrong you were, darlin’. First time y’see it your eyes are gonna bug out of your head.”

“I’d prefer not to see it at all,” Your nose wrinkles, “I’m perfectly happy with your current state of dress.”

“I know that’s right,” He snickers, “I saw you eyein’ up my tight little swim trunks earlier.”

“I was not.” You snap, but he’s only goaded into being further convinced, “Your back was to me, how could you have possibly known where I was looking?”

“I heard you stop moving the second I bent over,” He winks at you, and it’s a gaudy, grotesque display of cockiness, “You were transfixed, darlin’. One look and you forgot what you were doing.”

“That was because I couldn’t believe how skimpy your legs are,” You speak around a mouthful of pancakes, perhaps not the best etiquette but you’re not trying to impress anyone. “Next time you hit the gym, work on your calves.”

“Skimpy? Skimpy?” He shoves his foot into your lap, forcing you to stare at his exposed calf as you try avoiding the sole of his flip-flop on your bare stomach. You shriek, and you try tamping down laughter that threatens to escape as you attempt to shove him off of you. 

“These things are tree trunks,” Jake insists, and when you finally manage to wrestle his leg off of you he leaves it on your side of the table, his foot resting just beside your own, close enough to touch.

“You want some?” Jake offers you a forkful of scrambled eggs, but you shake your head, leaning away from the fork.

“Fine. Picky.” Jake shrugs, eating the eggs himself, “How come you’ll eat off of Payback’s fork but not mine? You think you’ll get all blushy if our lips touch the same thing?”

“I’m thinking I’ll vomit, not blush,” You correct him, “Payback brushes his teeth every once in a while, so eating off of his fork’s no big deal.”

“Damn, you’re vicious today!” Hangman observes, but he doesn’t settle into the back of the seat like you’d expected him to. It unnerves you when he leans forwards, “I brush my teeth twice a day,” He insists, and this time his antics are a little more intense than hiking his foot into your lap, “See?”

He stands so that he can lean farther over the table, flashing his grin in your face like you’re the lens of a camera he’s modeling for. It’s so forcibly charming, so irritatingly dazzling that leaning away- showing weakness - doesn’t even cross your mind, and you’re stuck staring at his pearly whites mere inches away from them, a sour scowl on your face.

“No cavities in sight,” He drawls, “But if you don’t believe me, you can inspect it yourself. Thinkin’ your tongue might work.”

“You’re a sicko,” You decide, your face blank, if not a smidge downturned as you sit inches away from Jake’s grin in full-force, “Sit down, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

“I’m embarrassing you.” He corrects, sinking back into the plush booth with a hiss of air and the spreading of his legs once more, “I can tell you’re blushin’ over there.”

“Must be an allergic reaction to something,” You sigh morosely, observing your plate, “There’s probably an ungodly amount of chemicals in all of this.”

“Tastes fresh to me,” Jake shrugs, reaching his fork across the table to pick at your fruit, “Give me that.”

“No- not the melon!” You clash your fork against his, an ugly scraping sound created by metal-on-metal as you fight to protect your fruit, “You can take anything else, just not the melon!”

“You can have my melons,” A smooth, melodious voice straight out of a porn intro comes from beside the table, and you and Jake look up in unison to see a woman in stiletto pumps and a skirt standing next to your seats.

Jake barely takes a second to process her bold words, and his face melts like butter into that greasy grin he’s always sporting around the ladies.

“Is that so? Well, thank you darlin’, that’s very kind of you. Might take you up on that if this one keeps holding out for a nobody.”

Jake points his fork vaguely, uncaringly at you, eyes still glued to the woman’s low neckline- her melons are, admittedly, nothing to sneeze at.

You find yourself incapable of speaking, so you take to pulverizing your fruit on your tongue instead of talking to the woman.

Once she and Jake have properly eye-fucked she struts away, and your nose curls to make way for a sneer at the clicking of her heels on the floor.

“What a bitch.” You retort, and Jake’s all-too-pleased with your indignance, “And those fucking heels? Who wears heels to breakfast on a cheap cruise?”

“Hey, I thought you were into all that girls-supporting-girls stuff,” Jake munches on a grape, “Ain’t that a little judgy? Maybe she feels pretty in the heels.”

“Girls support girls’ girls,” You insist, shaking your head disapprovingly, as Jake tries processing the tongue twister, “She was not a girls’ girl. She was trying to take my man!”

“Your man? I’m your man now?” Jake leans forward again, suddenly extremely interested in you rather than Miss Miniskirt, “When did that happen? The second someone else tried snatching me up?”

“No, you’re not my man,” You scoff, fork clattering against your plate, “But when we’re on a sex cruise together as unfortunate roommates, and we’re dining together, conversation flowing, clearly engaged with each other- when you were just leaning across the table asking me to lick your teeth two seconds ago- no girls’ girl would swoop in and try to take you away from me!”

“I think you’re just jealous,” Hangman points that damn fork at you again, and you still in your seat, prickling with annoyance, “I think you’re pretending to be all wrapped up in Daniel so that I go crazy, but it almost backfired on you when she started chattin’ me up. Hell, you called me your man! You can’t have it both ways, Y/N. Either let me go, or make me stay.”

“Go.” You seethe, eyes flashing with anger, with the indignance of being accused of puppetting him. You’ve been on edge this whole voyage, but something about his audacity combined with the sheer mortification of your dream last night means that your mouth is running without a filter. “I’m not pretending anything, Hangman, and- and I’m not going to ‘make you stay’, that’s ridiculous! I’m interested in Daniel. If you really want a woman who swoops in on what looks like a couple, then by all means, have at her. But you don’t get to bitch about Daniel and then act like I’m some controlling monster when I try to stop you from talking to bad ideas.”

“I’m not bitching about Daniel,” There’s a dangerous edge to Jake’s voice, the one that’s typically heard on the tarmac, “I’m trying to-”

“You’re trying to control me!” You accuse, and now it’s you that wields the fork, aiming it violently at Jake.

“I wasn’t done.” Jake snaps, but you don’t care.

You continue over his meager protests, “You are bitching about Daniel, 24/7. You’re trying to knock him out of the way so that you can schmooze me like you schmooze women back home, and it’s not going to work. You use people, Hangman, you hook up with women and then you push them away like they’re pathetic when they try staying with you for longer than a night! But I know you better than they do, and I won’t fall for it. You think I’m dumb? You think I don’t realize how much of a leg up you’d have at work if you got to tell everyone I fell for your little game? That’s why you want it so bad,” You huff, “You’re, like, obsessed with winning now- because I fly with you, and because I’m the only woman who’s ever told you no, you’re going crazy trying to get me to say yes! You are the one freaking out whenever Daniel talks to me! You are the one that’s clinging desperately to the unfortunate coincidence of us being roommates, and you are the one who refuses to let go. You won’t win. You cannot make me stay.”

Jake’s mouth had been open during your vicious speech, ready to fire back in a tone that would have made your skin crawl, but when you finish off, it falls shut. He stares, on the brink of disaster, one slip of the controls away from tailspinning. He’s always been like that: dangerous. 

You don’t give him the option to spin out.

“I’m not hungry anymore. You know what? You can have the fucking melon,” You stand, dumping your remaining fruit unceremoniously onto Jake’s plate as he stays frozen stiff, watching, “Maybe you’ll get lucky and score hers, but I doubt she’ll be interested if she’s not competing with anyone anymore.”

You barely remember to grab your belongings on the way out of the breakfast hall, and you don’t spare Jake another glance as you beeline for the elevators.

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

[sebsxphia]

i do not have an accent…. but when i’m tired or angry my fun lil southern twang pops out and i’m imagining being in your early relationship with Jake and him hearing it and just losing his mind

oh my god, i love this so much dear anon 🥹

i can imagine this if you’re staying round jake’s home around a month into your relationship. it’s early in the morning and you’re rushing to meet your mum. you’re in a rush because said boyfriend, the handsome, tall and blonde, texas aviator, kept you in bed a little longer than you had anticipated. worth it though, of course.

you’re riffling through the drawers in jake’s hallway in a hurried attempt to find your car keys. “where the fuck…” you let out a grunt in frustration as they’re still nowhere to be seen. “where in the god damn, hell, are they? my ma’s gon’ kill me.”

you huff out again and look up at jake, who’s leaning against the wall with his eyes wide and his jaw nearly on the floor, yet a small smirk tugging on his lips. he looks smug and it irritates you even more.

“what?” you snap.

“that!” jake playfully points his finger at you, flexing his bicep muscles candidly. “what was that?!”

“what was what, jake? my keys! my god damn keys!” you’ve admitted defeat and broken into frustrated laughter at your stupidly handsome, shirtless boyfriend, walking towards you with his award winning smile.

“again! that southern twang, you’re a god damn southern bell aren’t you?” he wraps his large arm around you and pulls you flush against his bare torso, his other hand coming up to gently cradle your jaw. you’re melting into his touch, no longer frustrated and your cheeks are turning a rosy pink.

“i’ll help you find your keys, but you have to promise me one thing?”

“yes?”

“come home from your ma as soon as you can, because i want my sweet southern bell all to myself.”

eheh thank you so much for this dear anon! 💌

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Imagine when the dagger squad first initially met at the hard deck Jake's wife noticed Bob first and is like "your my son now" and she tells jake their gonna parents and jake is excited to be a dad and javy is excited to be an uncle and she just introduces Bob as her son and everyone is like ???????? And jake is like so your not pregnant.....guess I better change that.

And on trainings Bob tells on jake to Mrs. Seresin everytime Jake teases him and she's like dont be mean to our son now apologize to our son right now😤😠😠 and she threatens him with a month of no sex if he doesn't apologize to Bob

Lollll okay but, just remember, you asked for this 🤣🤣

Practice Baby

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Wife!Reader

Summary: Jake Seresin's wife plays a joke on her husband and it backfires.

CW: This is very tongue in cheek. Swearing, mentions of adoption, pregnancy, it gets a little weird.

"You’re so cute, I just want to adopt you," you coo, pinching Bob’s cheek affectionately.

Bob grins at you. "You can adopt me. I mean, I have parents, but you can still adopt me. I wouldn’t mind coming over for some home cooked meals now and then."

"Aww," you say. "Anytime, sweetie."

"Amazing. Can I invite some friends over?" He laughs.

You give him a pointed look. "Maybe when you’re finished your homework."

At that moment, your husband walks into the pub with his buddy. When they spot you at the bar, they start heading in your direction.

"Fuck," Bob mutters. "I forgot who my dad would be."

You giggle. "He might be a little rough around the edges, but he’s a big softie when you get to know him."

"Not really keen on getting to know him," Bob retorts just as Jake and Coyote arrive.

Jake slips a hand around your waist and lowers his head to bring his lips to your ear. "You have no business being so fucking hot, Mrs. Seresin," he murmurs with a smirk.

You glance up at him with a smile. "I have some news, babe," you say.

Bob makes a whining sound and Jake flinches. "Jesus, Bob, when did you get here?"

Bob grimaces. "Been here the whole time."

"Really?" Jake furrows his eyebrows at him suspiciously.

You roll your eyes. "How do you feel about being a dad?" you ask with a completely straight face.

Jake turns to look at you with a stunned expression. His eyes are so wide, they look comical. He takes your face in his hands and brings it right up to his own. "Baby," he whispers. "Are you pregnant?"

You bite your lip, realizing you might've taken the joke too far. You hadn't expected Jake to react like this, and now you feel kind of bad. Jake has always seemed very neutral toward the prospect of children. So, you didn't, even for a second, consider that he might be excited to be a father. "Uhh," you utter slowly.

"I'm going to be an uncle?" Coyote pipes in excitedly.

Your eyes slide to look over Jake's shoulder, but Jake brings his face even closer to yours to redirect your attention. You wince, reaching to your side to pick up Bob's hand. You wave it sheepishly while Jake takes a minor step back and glances between the two of you questioningly. "Meet our son," you say with a nervous laugh.

Jake watches you with an unimpressed expression. Coyote narrows his eyes, blinking profusely. He's still trying to wrap his head around the situation. "What?" he says in confusion.

"Okay," you say, dropping Bob's hand. "You guys killed the joke. Congratulations."

Jake's mouth curls slightly upward. "Joke's on you, because I'm gonna put a baby in you."

You raise your eyebrows at him.

"It's your own damn fault," he says. "You put the idea in my head."

"But, we have Bob." You gesture toward the man to your right who doesn't quite know how to respond.

Jake grins at you and then at Bob. "We'll get him an, 'I'm going to be a Big Brother' t-shirt."

...

A month later, you meet your husband and his squad at the Hard Deck. You walk right up to Jake and smack his shoulder.

"Ow!" Jake yells. "What was that for, woman?"

"You called our son a bonehead?!" you shout at the top of your lungs.

Jake looks around to see the other patrons watching you. "Not a real son," he clarifies for the spectators. He rises from his seat and mutters in a low tone, "You're making me look bad, honey."

You give him a flat look. "You are bad!"

"It's all in good fun, this is how they learn," Jake says. "I'm just teaching him to grow a backbone like any good father should. Next week, I'm planning on taking him to his first kegger."

"Be nice to our practice baby," you say.

Jake puts his arms around you and leans his head on yours. "You're so weird, sweetheart," he mutters into your temple. "I love it."

"I'm being serious," you say. "If I hear him complain one more time, there will no sex for a month."

Jake gives you a pointed look, trying to hold back a laugh. "We're just going to have to teach our little Bob to stop tattling now, won't we?"

"Bob's not the problem."

Jake nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. "Sugar, let me get you a drink," he mutters, kissing your shoulder repeatedly while he runs his hands up and down your arms. "You seem a little on edge."

"Don't patronize me!"

Jake lifts his head and gives you a serious look. "Are you okay?"

You nod. "Just don't do it again," you say.

"I won't," he promises. "What are you drinking?"

You give him a sheepish look and purse your lips. "I'm not," you respond.

Jake stares at you in shock. "Are you fucking with me?"

You gulp awkwardly, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. You shake your head, sort of terrified to see how he will react after your tumultuous trial run with Bob.

Jake lets out a bewildered breath and then he pulls you in for a kiss, his arms winding around your back as he presses you into the table in behind.

"People are eating here," you hear Coyote complain.

Jake ignores him, continuing to kiss you feverishly. "I'm gonna be a dad," he mutters against your lips with a smile.

"I mean, you already are," you reason.

Jake chuckles, his hands caressing your waist. "Coyote!" he says, turning to look at him sternly.

Coyote looks up from his burger jadedly.

"I'm gonna need a car seat," Jake says proudly.

Coyote wrinkles his eyebrows. "For Bob?"

You snicker while Jake glances back at you with a thoughtful expression. "Car seats work for planes too, right?"

"Don't even think about it," you respond threateningly.

Jake grins. "You're right," he says. "You know, Mav and Rooster have this cute little motto. It goes: 'Don't think, just do.'"

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[mothdruid]

HAPPY HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY FRIEND 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 wishing you the frickin' greatest weekend of all time!!!!! if it's not too much to ask, can i request the NSFW prompt for a threesome with you, Bob, and Jake?? i feel like that would be one hell of a birthday present 🥵🥵🥵🥵

Much Needed

pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x afab!reader x Robert 'Bob' Floyd

wc: 1.3k

warnings: 18+, mdni, smut, pure smut, threesome, oral sex, cream pie, kind of sub spacey, kissing, vaginal sex, some floydsin too

a/n: hi! this was a lot longer than i was planning but i think this prompt deserved it! so here is just a full on threesome

When Jake said he had a surprise for you, this wasn’t what you were expecting. Him holding your legs wide open, directing his fellow pilot to eat you out. It’s not like you were against it, god no. But it just wasn’t something you thought Jake would be planning. Jake had always been more of the protective jealous type, not wanting to share you. 

“Tastes good, doesn’t she?” Jake whispered. 

Bob moaned into your cunt, sucking on your clit at the same time. Bob’s normally neat hair was disheveled, stray hairs hanging down across his forehead. His locks felt soft and damp against your skin. Your fingers ghosted over the metal frames of his glasses. A part of you was afraid to look down, knowing that you wouldn’t last if you saw how Bob looked. 

“God, you love this don’t you?” Jake asked, his lips ghosting over your ear lobe. You felt his hand tighten on your thighs. 

Obviously you loved it, but you knew that Jake was loving this just as much. His cock was pressing hard into your lower back. You rested your head back on his shoulder, looking at Jake. The green of his eyes was barely noticeable, irises blown so wide. Oh yeah, he was definitely into this. His lips were suddenly pressing against yours, tongue slipping into your mouth when you moaned. 

The coil in your abdomen was tight. Each lap of Bob’s tongue was threatening to make it snap. Jake’s tongue was doing magic too. He trailed his mouth to your neck, sucking against your sensitive skin. One of Jake’s hands left your legs, grabbing your jaw now. He directed your face downward, forcing you to look at Bob between your legs. Bob’s cerulean eyes were immediately connected with yours. 

“Come on, baby,” Jake whispered, “watch him make you come. Watch as you make a mess all over sweet Bobby’s face.” 

Bob’s eyes fluttered closed when Jake said his name. He devoted his full attention to your cunt. Jake groaned while he watched Bob devour you. Pants and moans fell from you, coil impossibly tight. Bob sucked harshly on your clit, pushing you over the edge. 

The image of Bob pressing his mouth tighter to your cunt was overstimulating. His tongue diving into your hole didn’t help. He was like a man that had faced a drought, licking and lapping at all your juices. It was only when your hips and legs started to shake that Bob pulled away from your body. Jake let go of your leg and face, letting you slump your body back against him. Bob got to his knees and leaned close to you. It was his turn to grab your jaw, directing your lips towards his. 

“Fuck,” Jake groaned leaning over you. 

“Wanna taste?” Bob asked Jake. 

One of Jake’s hands darted around Bob’s neck, gripping it and pulling him into a kiss. You watched the two of them kiss while trying to catch your own breath. The image of your boyfriend kissing Bob was making you stir again. Your insides clenched, craving attention and pleasure again. Bob swallowed the groan that Jake let out when you rolled your hips back against his cock. 

“Naughty,” Jake said while nipping your jaw, “does our baby want to get filled?” 

“Fuck yes.” 

The thought of them both filling you made you whine. You nodded eagerly, lifting your hips up for Jake to start positioning you. Jake and Bob slide their boxer briefs off, exposing their cocks to you finally. Jake got you in his lap, spreading your legs wide. You could feel the head of Jake’s cock at your entrance. A moan left you as he entered you, making you reach out. Bob was there, holding your hands as Jake settled inside of you. The three of you sat there for a moment. Jake on his knees below you, yours legs on either side of his, and Bob holding you. 

“Are you ready, baby?” Bob asked. 

You couldn’t think, it was all becoming so much. Your amazing boyfriend was balls deep inside of you, and one of his friends was holding your hands in a manor to soothe you. You never thought Bob would ever see you like this, see Jake fucking you stupid. But Bob had his own part in making you stupid, giving you an overstimulating orgasm. 

“Words, baby. I know it’s hard, but you gotta use them.” Jake whispered, peppering your neck and shoulder with kisses. 

“Move.” It was the only word you could utter. 

Jake slowly started rutting his hips up against yours. He was already so deep inside you he barely had any room to move his hips. You picked up on this and started to lift yourself, riding him softly. Jake’s hands moved to your hips, helping guide you a little bit more. He started fucking up into you, meeting your thrusts. 

Bob sat there watching Jake fuck into you. He couldn’t help it when his own hand drifted to his cock. He stroked himself at the sight before him. Jake’s arms were wrapped around your midsection, keeping you tight to him as he fucked you. You leaned back against his chest, letting him just use you. Bob leaned forward and took one of your nipples into his mouth. 

A moan fell from you as you felt Bob’s lips travel down your body, landing on your clit again. Bob started licking at your clit, occasionally licking Jake’s shaft and balls. Jake’s arms tightened around you, a groan coming from him. Jake’s hands snaked down to your legs, grabbing the underneath of your knees and repositioning them. You were spread wide again, giving Bob a better angle to your cunt and Jake’s dick. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m not gonna last.” Jake said towards Bob.

After a few more thrusts and licks you were coming all over Jake’s dick. Bob was cleaning it all up, licking up your juices around Jake’s dick. Bob kept his own hand still tight on his own dick, stroking himself. Jake gave only a few more thrusts before he was coming too. 

“Can I fuck you?” Bob asked, sitting up and leaning close to you. 

You nodded. Jake pressed a kiss to you as he let his dick slip out of you. He kept his hands holding your legs open, keeping them open for Bob. You brought one arm up and wrapped it behind Jake’s neck, keeping him close. Bob inched forward and pressed inside of you. You moaned at the feeling of being full again. Bob’s cock shoving Jake’s cum back inside of you was a sensation you didn’t know you needed. 

“How are you still so tight after he fucked you?” Bob leaned his forehead against your chest, pressing kisses to your skin and breasts. 

Jake kissed at your neck keeping you slightly grounded as Bob fucked you. Each thrust pulled a sound from you. Anything from a gasp, pant, or moan. All the sounds were starting to blur together to you, the only sounds you were focusing on were Jake’s breaths. Feeling his chest expand against your back. It was the only thing keeping you from slipping. 

Bob let out a whine, stilling his hips as he came inside of you. You let out your own whine, feeling his cum fill you and mix with Jake’s. You stayed still, barely making a noise when Bob pulled out of you. Bob quickly took off to the bathroom, finding a washcloth, wetting it, and coming back to clean you up. Jake eased your legs down when Bob was done cleaning the leaking cum from your body. 

“Do you want a bath?” Jake asked, easing you to lay against his chest. 

“No,” you curled up against him, “just wanna cuddle.” 

Bob returned to the bedroom, climbing into the bed next to Jake. Jake pressed a kiss to your head then one to Jake’s shoulder. Bob cuddled up with the two of you, earning a rewarding sound from you. The three of you remind like that, drifting off into a much needed sleep.

[spasmsofthought]

you fell hard, I thought good riddance (j.s. x reader)

An angsty thing inspired by “Best” by Gracie Abrams. (I wrote this at work cause I had the free time and couldn’t help myself.) Let me know what you think! (Probably some inaccuracies, especially if you squint - my step-dad may have done a career in the Navy, but I did and will not lol.) Wrote this all at once, so please have grace for any spelling or grammar mistakes. xo 

Next

https://open.spotify.com/track/5HO2RD12vZ5NcIdAULo43M?si=0ce82485daa44829

+++

Jake knows what he did. 

While not at the forefront of his mind, it weighs on the deepest part of his consciousness and he’s reminded of what he did in what feels like the most random moments. 

When he’s swallowing the last drops of beer in the bottle that’s pressed to his mouth. Or when he’s standing on the beach as the waves are softly rolling against the shore and it’s quiet. Or when he ends up on the couch watching crappy television at 3 a.m. because his flashbacks are keeping him awake and the moment his eyes close, he feels like he’s startled awake because a brightly-colored ad is flashing on the TV screen. 

He sees you every once and a while, he thinks. Whether it’s when he’s tipsy at The Hard Deck and sees someone turn the corner who looks just enough like you from the back. Someone can laugh just the right way down the hall when he’s in the office at work and he has to do a double-take to make sure it’s not you that’s laughing. 

He’s never actually, though, confronted with your physical presence until he finds himself at a joint military exercise in European waters and you are on the same carrier. He’s walking into the cafeteria after a morning of training exercises and immediately zeroes in on you. Once he’s aware of you, he can’t look away. 

It takes a moment for your senses to catch on. (To be fair, the cafeteria is not really known to be an oasis of peace. It’s loud and busy. You’re sitting with friends anyhow.) Your eyes flit to the area where he’s making his way in and he can tell the moment your mind makes sense of what you’re seeing. You glance at him for one long moment, and then you turn towards your friends and stay that way until you all leave. The only thing that has changed about your demeanor is the frown that settles on your expression throughout the rest of your meal. 

He thinks you look even better now than you did back then. 

He thinks he took you by surprise. That you’ve gotten so used to not seeing him around on your deployments and where you’re stationed that you didn’t think you would need to brace yourself on this go around. 

Jake knows what he did and he feels terrible. He didn’t then, but he does now.

Seeing you in actual flesh and blood makes him remember. 

He remembers your utter devotion during your brief time together. 

He remembers that the first time he approached you, he made you laugh. The kind of laughter that leaves a person gasping for air and makes their eyes water. You fell hook, line, and sinker. He remembers the way you would try to make time and space for him whenever you could, despite how busy you were trying to progress in your career. He remembers how he didn’t do the same. 

He remembers that on your off days, you would come over and stay the nights. He remembers the smell of you when you would climb into bed next to him after showering. And when he couldn’t sleep, when his mind was churning and taking him back to things he just wanted to forget, you would sit next to him on the couch at 3 a.m. as he turned the television on. When he closed his eyes, he knows you were the one to turn to TV screen off so he didn’t wake up. He remembers how you would kiss him: sweet and complete and open, always moving in step with him. 

He remembers how wholehearted you were when you were with him. Giving your whole self, all the time. 

Even when he would say sharp, caustic words that would make tears form in your eyes, even when he shut his bedroom door so he wouldn’t feel responsible for making you cry, you stayed. 

He remembers the way you stayed. 

And he remembers how his half-hearted attempts, quarter-hearted attempts really, to draw you back in eventually ran you dry. You were willing to do so much, and he wasn’t really willing to do anything. He was young, but he knows that’s not an excuse now. 

He remembers the light in your eyes changing. He remembers the way you stopped coming over. He remembers the way you didn’t have the courage to tell him you wanted to leave. 

He remembers that you held onto him until the bitter end. 

He knows you won’t talk to him. Every time you see him on the carrier, you make a point to avoid him or walk the other way. He knows you probably resent him (there’s a reason he can’t find you on any social media platforms). He understands why you don’t seem to want anything to do with him. 

So, he investigates. He does what he knows how to do best: he talks and charms and weasels his way through the crowds of people on the carrier. Making his way from one group to another, day and night, Jake gleans for information and eventually finds what he needs. He knows your bunkmate’s name now (and their shift and their position, and even where they like to hang out and what time they prefer to go to the gym). 

You may never read it, he knows. You may can it or tear it up and throw it out into the ocean. You may even wait until you can set it on fire and watch it burn. 

But he knows he has to try. 

So when he finds your bunkmate, he hands them a piece of paper and tells them it’s for you. It’s small and doesn’t take up much room. Your bunkmate only nods, a look of confusion passing over their face. He says it’s important that it be delivered to you. Those are his only instructions. 

If he had the opportunity to talk to you in person, he might have the chance to elongate. To say more, be more. But he might not ever get the chance to do that, so he’s going to take what he can get. 

You pass your bunkmate between shifts: you’re just getting back for some sleep, and they’re heading out. They say there’s a piece of paper you need to read on your pillow. Hand-delivered, they say the instructions were. No follow-up is required. You wait until they leave. Until you’re left alone. 

You open up the folded-up piece of paper. 

This is what it says: 

I’m sorry. You deserved better. 

[luveline]

would loveeee to see your version of jake!! maybe just something fluffy and domestic, sorry im leaving you to fill in the blanks so much bby ;; <3

thank you for your request lovely ♡ fem!reader

Jake does this thing whenever he sees you like he's trying not to smile —or eat you alive. 

Face desperate to stay impassive but eyes giving him away, his lips and the space just above his left brow twitch at the same time, and the pool cue he holds is swiftly given to a nearby friend. 

"Now what do we have here?" he asks, sizing you up shamelessly. 

You hide your own smile and turn from him. Predictably, Jake follows you from the pool table and toward the bar, where you open your purse for a rumpled ten, the warm summer air ruffling your layered skirt and the air con above battling to keep your cheeks cool. 

He covers your hand. "What's with you?" 

"What's with me?" you ask lightly. 

"Don't tell me you've been this pretty all your life and you still try buying your own drinks?" 

"I'm a big girl," you say, flagging down Penny for your usual. 

Jake, still predictable, declares it on him. Despite his insistence and his easy compliments, he doesn't look at you as Penny pours your drinks, eyes meandering lazily around the Hard Deck and its patrons like he hadn't just followed you up here. 

"I can pay for my own drink," you say. 

He still doesn't look at you, but his smile turns smarmy, almost, his tone wry, "Ah, but should you have to?" 

"Jake–" 

"A first name basis?" He nods at Penny in thanks as she finishes up. A prop for his derision, he picks up his drink and smirks at you from over the rim. "We're getting somewhere."

You place your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in the cup of your hand, relaxing each feature. You're as unashamed as he was to look at him, though for a different reason, cataloguing the little differences since you last saw him. His tanned cheeks apple the longer you look, and for the first time since this morning, he smiles at you genuinely. 

"Shit," he mutters through it, putting his drink down. "You know I can't handle it when you're looking at me like that, angel." 

"Almost like that's why I do it," you say softly. Your smile melds from contented to something with a little more excitement as Jake puts his hand on your waist a deliberate, slow placement, each finger in a specific set. Thumb pressing into soft tummy, pinky finger teasing the waistband of your skirt. "S'why I wore the skirt, too." 

He catches your lips for a sudden kiss. You laugh into his mouth, grabbing a handful of rigid, corded forearm muscle to stop him from getting too close. (You'd love for him to get closer, but you hope to be able to show your face here for the rest of your life.) 

"I win," you say, the tip of your nose bumping his as you break the kiss. 

"You win," he says. "You were supposed to be here half an hour ago, you know that?"

"So you could subject us to your weird foreplay just after dinner?" Fanboy asks, rocking up to the bar with Rooster beside him. 

"It's not foreplay," you say, mortified but quickly mollified when Rooster waves a hand. 

"He's kidding. Doesn't mean he isn't half right. Why do you guys do that?"

"What, pretend not to know each other?" you ask. 

Jake's arm moves from its risqué grasping of your waist to cover your back. He's not hulking but he's not a small man, you feel his presence behind you like a steadying, remarkably handsome constant. You've no trouble leaning against him with all your weight, your hair pressed to his shoulder. 

"You boys wouldn't understand," Jake says, arm curving around you like a seat belt locking into place. He gives your tummy a squeeze. You place your sandal clad heel on his boot as though that might scare him into behaving, and he likes you enough to pretend it does. 

"It's just fun." You reach for Jake's drink and take a sip, your own ignored and weeping condensation. "Keeps life interesting."

"'Cos I'm such a bore," Jake drawls, nosing behind the shell of your ear. 

You smile and huff a laugh through your nose as he shakes you from one side to another playfully. You're being downright disgusting in public, in broad daylight, but you're so in love you don't mind. It's not as if you're necking, anyways. Jake's just soft-handed when he wants to be, and with you, that's all the time. 

"You're the worst," you say. Your tone is honeyed enough that it's obvious from the first syllable that what you're saying isn't true. 

"I'll drink to that!" Rooster cheers, flagging Penny for another beer.

Jake ignores him. "I really do like the skirt, doll." 

"Thank you. I'm thinking I might get it in white." 

"Oh, yeah. I'd like to see that on you. Almost as much as I'd like taking it right fucking off of—" You step on his toes until he stops.