#leaning into it in fact xD

[hoffstrap-yuri]

Bad Idea, Right?

ao3 // masterlist

*Summary: Peter Strahm goes over to Det. Hoffman's house to get more information about the Jigsaw case. Should be simple enough, right?

*Rating: +18 for explicit mature content

*Content/Tags: Feeding Kink, PWP, Feedee Peter Strahm, Feeder Mark Hoffman

*Status: Oneshot/Complete

Strahm used his free hand to massage his temples. He blinked a couple of times to wet his eyes once more and got out of his car. He grabbed his bag and slung his suit jacket over his forearm before closing the door. He walked over to the door before him, hesitating to turn the knob before getting over his trepidation.

“You know.” A man said, stepping out of the kitchen and leaned against the wall frame. He crossed his arms in front of him and raised an eyebrow, “Most guests knock before entering someone’s house.”

“Sorry. Thought I could come in.” The other man, slightly taller, replied.

“Have a seat in here, Agent Strahm.” He made a gesture towards the kitchen table and Strahm walked over to the little set-up. At most the table was only ever meant to seat two people, but it was clear that the vinyl on one chair was a little more worn than the other. Strahm could see why a man who lived alone would choose to sit there. Clear sight line to the entryway. If he craned his head up just so, then he could see into the lot behind the house. The other seat didn’t offer nearly this level of security and while he was the guest in the Detective’s home, he sat at the less used seat. Something was cooking on the stove behind Strahm that reminded Strahm of home. Sitting in his nonna’s kitchen on Sunday’s after church, trying to get a sample of the spaghetti sauce before she caught him and hit the back of his hand with a wooden spoon. He smiled to himself as the other man put the lid back on whatever it was he was cooking, bolognese if Strahm remembered correctly.

“You didn’t have to cook for me.” Strahm cleared his throat and adjusted his tie.

“I know, but I wanted to. You look like you haven’t had a decent meal in months, before you even came here.” Hoffman sat down in his preferred seat

“What makes you think I haven’t had a good meal?” Strahm was borderline offended, not because he was wrong but because of how easy the other man seemed to read him.

“For a man your age you’re rather thin. Though you have some bulk in your center you’re not big by any means.” Hoffman leaned into the table, putting an elbow up as he shared a gaze with Agent Strahm. There seemed to be an implication behind his movements that Hoffman meant that Strahm wasn’t as big as he was. He seemed to answer Strahm’s puzzled look with a slight smirk that exuded confidence. Almost… flirtatious? “Probably from a couple years of fast food.”

“Truly your detective powers of perception are impeccable.” Strahm remarked, rather dryly

“Then I’m right? That’s all that matters to me.”

“That’s not…” Strahm started but shook his head, “Anyway, I came here to talk about the case.”

“Right.” Hoffman crossed his legs under the table and Strahm pulled the file from his bag. He went to pin up the details onto the wall as a force of habit, but then realized that he wasn’t in his little office with a pin board. After this gaff, he spread the files across the table hoping that Hoffman didn’t notice him. “Here’s what we know so far.”

“By we you mean…” Hoffman’s thought trailed off only for Strahm to answer

“Lindsay and I.”

“Of course.”

“And we were hoping if there was any supplemental information you could provide us about Agent Kerry or the jigsaw murders at all, now would be a good time…”

“I do actually.” Hoffman got up from the table and brought his files over, leaving them in a nice stack to the side of Strahm’s flurry of papers. “This one looks the most promising. Similar modus operandi, similar tape…”

“Awesome.” Strahm took the file from Hoffman’s hands and thumbed through the papers. “And you were sure this murder was committed by Amanda Young and not John Kramer?”

“That’s what the evidence suggests.”

“Then it’s not confirmed?”

“It’s still an open case, agent.” Hoffman replied

“Okay.” Strahm took a deep breath and looked closer over another file Hoffman brought to him

“Dinner’s ready as well.” Hoffman commented, towering over Strahm and leaning against the chair

“Okay.” Strahm replied absentmindedly as Hoffman dished himself up a plate. Hoffman looked the FBI agent up and down while the agent’s eyes remained glued to the papers before him. Hoffman had finished eating and cleaned up his plate before Strahm moved on to the next case. He walked over to the table and cleaned up Strahm’s pile, leaving out what Strahm had pointed out early as the most pertinent information.

“You know, agent. It’s really rude of you to come over and not eat anything after your host has made something for you.”

Strahm knew the second the words slipped out that that was the beginning of the end for him, “I mean I didn’t ask you to make anything for me.” He could hear his grandmother shouting at him from the beyond. Hoffman gave him a look that Strahm tried to dismiss at the time, but knew he’d more than upset the other man.

“The food’s getting cold.” Hoffman replied, pulling Strahm close by his necktie. “Now I would suggest, you start eating.”

“Or what?” Strahm scoffed

“I’ll just feed you myself.”

“I’m not a toddler, I can feed myself just fine, thank you.” Strahm cleaned up his space on the table fully and went over to the stove. He picked up the plate that Hoffman had left next to the pot of sauce then grabbed a tongs worth of noodles before carefully ladling on the sauce. The texture was thinner than the sauce his grandmother made, but it still had a familiar smell to it. He only covered maybe half the plate and brought his meal back to the table. “There, can we talk about the case now?”

“At least tell me whether it’s to your liking, Agent.” Hoffman rested his head on his knuckles and waited for Strahm to take a bite. Strahm rolled his eyes and brought a forkful up to his mouth. He paused for a second before eventually taking a bite.

“Could use a couple seconds in the microwave.” Strahm muttered under his breath. Hoffman took the plate from out under him and popped it into his microwave. Anger was rising in Strahm’s voice as he told Hoffman, “You know, I am a grown man. I could’ve done it myself, Detective.”

“And have you take 20 minutes to do that? Fat chance.” Hoffman crossed his arms as he waited for the familiar ding of the appliance. He brought the plate back over to the agent and sat across from him once more. “Is that better?”

“Yeah.” Strahm replied quickly in between a bite. He wanted to mouth off a bit more, something about Hoffman’s people-pleasing nature that drove Strahm up the wall… but the food was pretty damn good. Hoffman looked over his shoulder back at the range before getting up once more and grabbing the plate of garlic bread to ring back to the table.

“Eat.” Hoffman said. There was no intonation change that made it sound like a question, but it definitely came off as a command. Strahm scowled before taking a piece of bread off the plate and shoving it into his mouth. He chewed at it while keeping his face even-tempered but enjoyed the garlic flavor. He looked over the piece with fondness, trying to remember the last time he had good quality garlic bread and not just as a side to some crappy Italian him and Lindsey would pick-up during their investigations. Hoffman’s hand got in Strahm’s face, snapping his attention back to the meal at hand. “At this rate you’ll be finished with dinner by bedtime.”

“So?” Strahm scoffed

“Hurry it up.” Hoffman got up from his chair, shoved a piece of garlic bread into Strahm’s mouth and placed his hand underneath Strahm’s jaw to guide the other man’s pace. Strahm tried to free himself from Hoffman’s grasp but his mouth was clamped in between Hoffman’s thumb and forefinger. Hoffman’s gaze lied square on Strahm’s face. A heavy sigh left Strahm’s nostrils after he finished the bread. Without hesitation, Hoffman brought a giant forkful of the spaghetti up to Strahm’s lips and nudged it into his mouth. “That’s a good boy.” Strahm’s whole body went weak for a second at those words. Something about Hoffman’s low voice saying that to him made him want to eat. Would Hoffman’s praise continue in that sultry voice if he did eat more? Before he could finish his bite another fork was brought up to Strahm’s mouth. His lips didn’t budge for a second, but after a growl let slip from Hoffman’s throat, Strahm slurped up the noodles. “You can go faster.”

“No, I really can’t.” Strahm rolled his eyes

“You can, and you will.” Hoffman replied back before shoving more pasta into Strahm’s mouth. “See that plate’s gone. That wasn’t hard.”

“You say that like I’m going to eat more.” Strahm groaned a little bit at the thought of being stuffed to the brim. Hoffman simply took his plate and refilled it with the same pasta to sauce ratio that Strahm had previously. Strahm looked up at him with incredulous eyes, but ate as the fork came back up to his mouth.

“And you still eat anyway.” Hoffman hummed as Strahm worked himself back up into a decent pace once more and ate the second plate of pasta. He let a heavy sigh escape from his lips and leaned back in his seat before quietly muttering,

“No more…”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” Hoffman feigned ignorance. He heard the other man just fine, and Strahm knew that but he had to repeat himself.

“I’m too full.” Strahm huffed

“Fine.” Hoffman replied before snaking a hand over Strahm’s shoulder and across his chest. Strahm made a soft grunt as the hand kept moving further south, resting on Strahm’s distended stomach

“What are you…” Strahm looked at Hoffman’s hand before moaning as his finger tips sunk slowly into the his overstuffed gut. His moan was interrupted by a slight burp before his hand covered his mouth. Strahm felt himself grow red in the face as Hoffman’s other hand worked in tandem to rub the bulge that spilled over his belt.

“How’s that?” Hoffman asked, leaning against Strahm’s ear as his fingers dug deeper. Rather than answer with words, another groan escaped from his mouth. “You’re never like this at work, Peter. Maybe I could get something done if I just threw some food in front of you and fawned over how well behaved you are.”

“Fat fucking…” Strahm started to say, getting cut off by some noise his body decided to release at that moment, “Fat fucking chance.”

“What would your partner think of you? Seeing you make a pig of yourself at your desk. She’d probably notice the way I’d slip a dozen donuts in front of you and their disappearance before lunch…” Hoffman whispered the copiously sweet nothings into Strahm’s ear as a hand slipped its way between Strahm’s legs. “You’ve been fighting it up until this point. Trying to eat as little as you can while your partner’s around so you don’t have to think about your lack of shame when it comes to sucking down food. Don’t fight it when I’m around. Give into me, Agent Strahm.”

Strahm could only respond with his teeth pressing into his lips, threatening to tear the skin open from the pressure. Hoffman’s lips were dangerously close to Strahm’s cheek, he wanted that connection so badly. Hoffman knew this, and so he kept it from Strahm as his hands worked the belt off Strahm’s waist. Next came the fly of Strahm’s pants which Hoffman unzipped, carefully palming at the erection that was hiding under Strahm’s clothes. Hoffman gave the other man a couple of quick pumps with his hand before fully committing to jerking him off. Strahm’s dick sat squarely in Hoffman’s hand for a moment before he focused on giving the Agent long strokes along the length. Strahm grunted and his foot jerked up, hitting one of the legs of the table. Hoffman could only make a small ‘tisk’ noise as Strahm tried to keep himself composed while the other man got him off. Hoffman’s free hand trailed up Strahm’s shirt before resting just below Strahm’s pecs. A breath of hot air rolled along Strahm’s neck and he jolted as he came onto the underside of Hoffman’s dining room table. As he felt himself coming down from his stuffed high, he heard Hoffman whisper over his head some iteration of “Good boy” over and over. He zipped himself back up, careful not to get the bottom of his work shirt caught in the fly. However, just before he could relax, Hoffman pulled the chair out from under Strahm and sent the other man falling to the floor. He cursed loudly and looked up at Hoffman.

“You made a mess. Now clean it.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do? Lick it off like I’m some kind of dog?”

“No.” Hoffman shook his head, “Just some pathetic pig.” Hoffman looked at the semen left on his thumb, and brought it up to his lips before letting the appendage dip fully into his mouth. After that was clear, he made a show of licking the cum left on his palm off from the center up. Strahm leaned forward a bit before he felt the press of Hoffman’s foot on his back, forcing him back down onto all fours. Strahm growled in response but got up to the table and dipped his tongue into his mess. He gagged a little bit, wondering how Hoffman had managed to make the substance look so alluring as he swallowed it off his hand. He felt Hoffman’s big toe digging deeper into his back as he refused to lick the cum off, so he slowly began to lap at it. “You really don’t have any shame do you, Agent?”

“Shut up.” He turned his head back to argue, only to realize that there was no winning in this scenario. He turned back around and continued licking up his semen for Hoffman’s pleasure. When most of the white was gone, and could easily be cleaned up with a rag, Hoffman helped Strahm back onto the chair. His hands gravitated back to Strahm’s stomach and finally gave Strahm the ever elusive peck on the cheek he’d been expecting during their whole liaison. Strahm’s hands, which had been oddly still up until this point, forced Hoffman’s lips over to meet his and they kissed for a moment. Hoffman’s hands clutched at the collar of Strahm’s shirt and pulled him up onto his feet before guiding Strahm up against a wall. His shoulder blade hit the drywall, definitely leaving a mark. Hoffman growled into their kiss before pulling himself off. “Gave up already, fucker?”

“No. No. Just you’ve probably worked off all those calories I packed into you.” Hoffman laughed lowly, his lips meeting with Strahm’s neck. “Think you can fit in some dessert?” Strahm mulled the offer over for a second before shaking his head. “Shame. I make a damn good lobster tail.” He pulled Strahm by the collar of his shirt and brought him to his bedroom. Maybe one more round and Strahm would have the room for something more.

[blackjackkent]

OK, time for a very small nice thing for Rakha to counteract all the Horrors.

"*sniff*"

Narrator: The dog seems wary, sniffing you intently.

Offer your hand to the dog to sniff, being careful not to spook it.

Narrator: The dog sniffs your hand and seems more at ease.

"*Bark!*"

-----

Wyll watches Rakha with the dog, a slight smile touching his lips. And Jaheira watches Wyll, and frowns sympathetically.

"I can only imagine it is a trying time to love her," she says gently, in a voice low enough to reach only his ears.

Wyll stiffens. His eyes don't move from Rakha, but Jaheira can see the way he turns his body. It's an unconscious motion, protective, ready to step between Jaheira and Rakha if the need should arise. "Are you suggesting I ought not to?" he says carefully.

Jaheira smiles a little to herself. She could have expected this response. He's a good man, the Ravengard boy - the sort of stout support Rakha will need in the times to come. Caden had Aerie, and it made all the difference in some of his lowest moments.

And Wyll is not so far out of the way from Aerie, really. Both of them torn from their homes by terrible circumstance, mutilated by the cruelty of uncaring masters, and yet full of warmth in spite of it all. Both of them tossed into the way of a Bhaalspawn in whom they found light and love and hope in spite of the darkness. It's a comforting parallel.

And yet... Jaheira has to admit Wyll's path is strewn with far more rocks than Aerie's was. Caden carried Bhaal's taint, but he never slipped so far into the dark as Rakha has. There is an animal ferocity in Rakha that Caden never had, a beast that strains far more strongly at its leash.

"Hardly," she says. "Indeed, I am very glad you do. I only mean that it is not easy to love one so marked by fate."

Wyll hesitates. She can see his loyalty warring with his honesty.

She smiles faintly. "You need not confide in me unless you wish," she says. "Certainly this is only an old woman's meddling."

"No, it's--" He frowns, looks away for a moment - checks to see that Lae'zel and Minthara are not listening, that Rakha is still distracted by the pup. "I hate it," he admits, so low that even Jaheira can barely hear him. "I hate what it does to her. I look at her now... that little smile she gets on her face, that moment of gentleness. All the questions, the moments when she wants to learn, to do the right thing, to understand everything. The music. The magic - the beauty she sees in it, the things she tells me about..." He swallows. "That's the woman I love, and I'd do anything for her. But there's something else there that's not her at all, and it frightens me so terribly."

He trails off, looking down at his boots. "It isn't fair."

"No," she agrees quietly. "No, it most certainly is not. And it is a cruel truth, in my experience, that such unfair business lands all too often on the shoulders of those who deserve it least."

He fidgets uneasily with the hilt of the rapier on his hip. "If what she says is true... she did terrible things, back before she lost her memory. Am I simply a fool, to think that isn't her? That I can love her in spite of that, that she's someone different now?"

"Only you can answer that for yourself." Jaheira studies his expression thoughtfully for a moment. "But if you want my opinion - no. It does not make you foolish, but brave." A pause. "I have cared for many, in the past, who knew their share of darkness. And I am no fool. The foolishness would be in believing she has no choice to change."

He relaxes visibly and his eyes brighten at the reassurance. "Yes," he says. A slight pause. "Your friend... Gorion's Ward..."

"Caden," she says. Her lips twitch. "The legends speak of him always with such grandiose titles..."

He laughs softly. "Caden, then. Did he... frighten you, ever?"

She is quiet a long moment before answering. "At times. There were moments when I knew he struggled with things I could not see. And it frightened me to know that in the end it was his journey, and I could do nothing but stand at his side and see him through."

Wyll nods. "I would take the burden from her, if I could," he says.

"I know you would." She claps him gently on the shoulder. "And it is for that reason that I am glad you cannot. Do not tear yourself apart trying to lay an easy path that does not exist. She will need you, whole-minded and strong, for what is to come."

He draws a slow breath, and she can hear a slight tremble in the exhale. Ye gods, boy, you are so terribly young to face such trials, she thinks bitterly. I never knew love that did not have its touch of pain, but you have earned something bearing a less sharp edge.

But I am familiar with the sense, by now, of standing on history's cusp. Had she not had your guidance, I think Rakha would have a great deal more blood on her hands. And I think, perhaps, one day the strength of your heart will be seen to have saved the world.

"Thank you," he says softly.

She nods. "I am here when you need me," she answers. "And you will - of that I am certain. We have, all of us, a very long road ahead."

[mythosidhesdollhouse]

Expecting some deliveries today....

[queen-scribbles]

Life Day shots of the SWtOR babes + spouses while I try to decide who gets to attend Grey's party tonight :D

[phoenixiancrystallist]

OH YEAH I DID ART

Month 6, day 3, did days 1 and 2 of @adorkastock's Draw Everything June challenge!

Not me making up characters on the spot, no, I would never, it's not like character design is my truest love or anything :P Neither of them have names, but Day 1 uses he/him pronouns and Day 2 uses she/her pronouns and made the kitty cat patch for her pocket herself :3

[fitzrove]

studying for an exam and haunted by this.....

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Hotter Than Texas | Part I

(unofficially: Brother's Worst Enemy)

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Alrighty y'all, this is for everyone who has so patiently waited for me to make this a thing XD Not sure if I could squeeze a whole series out of this one but we shall see. Maybe at least a part 2. Enjoy!

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw is tasked with transporting a not-so-delicate package in the form of Jake Seresin's baby sister, who turns out to be Bradley's dream girl worst nightmare.

Aka it's a road trip, strap in.

CW: swearing, age gap (10 years)

The mission is simple. Collect Seresin Junior from the train station near the main gate of the base and deliver said cargo to the Seresin homestead in Eastern Texas on his way to Atlanta, Georgia for a long overdue visit with his grandparents. It isn’t rocket science. It sure as hell doesn’t hold a candle to the canyon run he pulled off just the other month. And yet, Bradley’s drumming his fingers anxiously on the hood of his Bronco as he leans into its frame, waiting on the trolley from downtown San Diego.

While Jake and Bradley have recently made peace after their longstanding cold war, Bradley isn’t exactly thrilled to meet another one of his kind. Besides, he isn’t one for small talk, and the prospect of spending the next two days with a complete stranger is downright daunting. He prefers music to conversation and he’s hoping that his road trip companion won’t be offended when he turns up the radio and forgets there’s anybody else in the car.

When Hangman had asked for the favor, he assured Bradley that he was his last choice – which wasn’t exactly a compliment, but Bradley appreciated the gesture, nonetheless. By the end of the term, there was nobody from their squadron left on base except Bradley, and he would be heading east anyway, might as well provide shuttle service while he’s at it.

As the trolley whistles into the station, Bradley pushes off his car and straightens his back, watching the tinted windows as they zip by, a blur at first and then gradually separating as the trolley comes to a stop.

Bradley leaves his car to walk around the fence, not quite sure how he’s going to be greeting a person he’s never before seen, but it’s not like he’s going to fashion a sign for the occasion. He sticks his hands into his pockets, the breeze picking up his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt like a parachute before it starts whipping around his torso in the wind tunnel on the platform.

He glances around at the commuters stepping off the trolley, trying to pick out the blondes that might resemble his colleague, when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns his head, just as you say, “Rooster, right?”

He blinks at you, slightly disoriented. You look nothing like Hangman, thank fuck, because Bradley can’t take his eyes off you and, as inappropriate as this reaction is, it would make it that much worse if you did. He gives you a sideways grin. “What gave me away?” he says.

“My brother told me to find the dorkiest guy at the station,” you respond, grinning at him.

Bradley chuckles. “So, you’re walking to Texas, then,” he says, stepping around you.

You laugh, struggling to redirect the wheels of your suitcase.

Bradley bends down to grab the handle. “I can take that,” he says, tucking away the retractable bar and lifting it off the ground by the strap.

“Thanks,” you say, cringing slightly as Bradley lifts the luggage as though you’re embarrassed by its weight.

But after the countless exercise drills over the years, Bradley hardly notices that it’s heavy. In fact, he could probably carry it over his head. He eyes you inconspicuously as you fall in step with him, wondering if perhaps that might impress you – not that he wants to impress you.

“Actually, he said I couldn’t miss you because you’d be a head taller than everyone else, and probably wearing a very bright shirt.”

Bradley looks over at you with a grin. “Hopefully I didn’t disappoint?”

You eye his shirt flapping in the breeze. “I found you, didn’t I?”

Bradley lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car and walks around to open your door for you.

You give him a suspicious look. “Thanks,” you say.

Bradley nods at you, offering a hand to help you in. Once you’re seated, he shuts the door behind you and exhales unsteadily the kind of sigh that often accompanies a guilty conscience. There’s no way he could possibly get entangled in a mess of this magnitude. And a colossal mess it would become if he were to develop any sort of soft spot for his recent enemy’s baby sister. Bradley, being a sensible, mature adult, understands this unequivocally. But, when he rounds the car and climbs into the driver’s seat next to you, the notion that he’s not allowed under any circumstances to find you attractive flies right out his rolled down window.

This is because you’re already tuning the radio like you own the place and because you smell like a goddess. Bradley has no clue whether it’s your hair or your perfume or your goddamn essence that’s permeated his upholstery in under ten seconds, but whatever it is, he certainly wouldn’t mind smelling it on his sheets in the morning.

Fuck. He’s fucking fucked.

“This alright?” you ask casually, as if you didn’t just hijack a stranger’s radio.

He cringes at the stereo; he’ll have to work on your taste in music. “Got your seatbelt on?” he asks as he pulls out.

You turn around in your seat and pull on the seatbelt.

Bradley promptly hits the breaks and you lurch forward slightly, the seatbelt in your hand getting stuck on its way out. He looks over at you with an air of seriousness despite the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “The seatbelt should be the first thing you do when you enter a vehicle.” Not fiddle with the radio, he adds silently.

You raise your eyebrows at him in amusement. “Okay, dad.”

Bradley nearly shudders at your response. He’s probably a good ten years older than you, so, really, while dad might be stretching it, you’re not too far off. “Keep up that attitude and you’ll be listening to Metallica the whole way home.”

You smirk at him. “I like Metallica, so joke’s on you, bud.”

Bradley starts driving again. “If you like Metallica, then why are we listening to this trash?”

Your jaw drops and you reach for the volume dial to turn up the song. “How dare you?”

Bradley rolls his eyes. Something tells him he’s in for a wild ride.

…

About two hours later, Bradley pulls into a small gas station just past the border into Arizona.

“Want something to eat?” he asks, leaning across the console to pop his glove compartment and pull out his wallet. “Or drink?”

You purse your lips. “I could go for a coffee.”

“How do you like it?” he asks.

“With a pinch of salt.”

Bradley gapes at you. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

You snort. “I’m not joking. You should try it! Cuts the bitterness in half, my friend.”

Bradley cringes. “The bitterness is why I drink it.”

You shake your head and declare wisely, “You’ll see.”

“That you’re a nutcase?” Bradley mutters under his breath as he exits the car. He jogs over to the convenience store, determinedly blocking out the seductive quality of your persuasive tone. You could probably convince him to drink a pint of his own urine if you set your mind to it.

Bradley drums impatiently on the counter, waiting for the clerk to finish restocking one of the shelves with chips. While he’s waiting, he glances out to check on you as if you’re a child under his charge. You’ve stepped out of the Bronco to stretch your legs and Bradley doesn’t like the way the two guys in the convertible in behind are eyeing you.

Bradley cranes his neck to check on the clerk’s progress and lets out a stifled sigh. When he looks back outside, he sees that one of the men has approached you and, well, Bradley isn’t about to wait to see what happens next. He drops a bill on the counter and calls out, “Keep the change,” to the clerk before practically slamming his way through the doors with the coffees in his hands.

Why it bothers him that some random dude might want your number is not of consequence. What matters is that Bradley gets rid of this asswipe before you start enjoying his company.

He strides confidently past the man chatting you up and stops right in between you and him, handing you a coffee.

“Careful, it’s hot,” he cautions moodily, not entirely sure how to go about handling a situation in which, objectively speaking, he has no real authority.

You meet his gaze with a small smile. “You don’t say,” you respond with all the sultriness of a blazing, desert sun.

Bradley’s gaze remains unwaveringly on you as he unhooks a pair of Ray-Bans from the neck of his muscle shirt and slides them over his eyes. “Ready to go?” he asks in a level tone, hoping he can avoid what is bound to be an unpleasant interaction with the man still standing behind him.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” the man speaks up. “Didn’t realize you were with someone, honey.”

Bradley keeps his eyes on yours for several moments longer, trying his best not to show the irritation he feels at the way this rando just called you ‘honey’. Reluctantly, he turns to face him, wondering what in the world he could say that wouldn’t make him sound jealous as fuck.

But before Bradley could speak, you slide casually into his side, leaning on him like it’s the most natural thing. “That’s just fine,” you say to the man. “No harm, no foul.”

Bradley looks down at your head as it nestles into his shoulder and then lifts his arm to let you move in closer. Trying to play it cool, he skims the tips of his fingers across your lower back, which is warm and feels like the perfect place to rest his hand.

Convertible guy promptly departs, and Bradley is left standing in an embrace with the one person on the entire planet for whom he should never catch feelings, at a derelict gas station on the outskirts of arid Yuma, Arizona, and the heat is really starting to get to him. Slowly, you start to peel yourself away and Bradley, sensing your withdrawal, drops his hand and recoils from you like you’ve burnt him.

Did it feel nice pretending you were his girl? Sure did. Is he going to erase it from his memory and never let himself so much as shake your hand again? Absolutely.

Read Part 2

Tag List

I’ll be tagging the rest in the comments probably tomorrow!

@joaquinwhorres

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@avengers-fixation

[revelboo]

Begging for more soundwave...especially the kink list. We are just little creatures in need of big mech babes XD

Not sure if you meant silent, tentacle cryptid Soundwave or IDW tired, single-dad Soundwave… so here’s both versions 🌶️ 18+ Mass displaced mechs

Soundwave x Reader- Encounters 🌶️

IDW Soundwave x Reader- bad dream

• He can feel the moment your dreams shift and go somewhere dark. Your emotions snarling and crackling over him as he sits up and looks over at you. Face buried against your pillow, you shift in your sleep. Reaching over, he smoothes a palm along your spine, the contact strengthening the connection between you two, but he can’t make any sense of the nightmare, only the visceral fear. Venting softly, he hooks an arm under you and pulls you into his lap.

• Your distress follows you into waking as you fight the arm wrapped around you in blind panic before Soundwave hums at you, holding you as the shaking eases leaving your heart racing. A fact he notes by pressing a servo right over that frantic rhythm. His mask brushes against your cheek and neck as he rumbles against you. “Safe, little one.” Smiling at that low, tonal voice, you lean into him in response.

• “Did I wake you?” Worrying about him to try and hide how shaken you still are? Sliding his palm up to tip your head back against his shoulder, he vents against your skin just to feel your body go taut against him. Knows if he asks you won’t tell him about the nightmare. It’s not the first time and as much as it bothers him, likely won’t be the last. Whatever haunts your rest is something you don’t trust him with yet. He understands even as it doesn’t sit right with him, but he also knows how to banish that fear from your thoughts completely.

• Servos against your throat, keeping your head back against his shoulder so your body is arched, you feel the arm curled around you shift, slide down to cup you. Know exactly what he’s doing, because somehow he knows when that nightmare surfaces and his response since you can’t talk about it is always the same. Distraction. Shuddering as his servos pet you, stroking as you respond for him. Body heating and softening, because this sort of distraction? The kind that makes you feel alive and cherished? You need it right now. “Please,” you murmur, rocking against his servos and with a low growl, he buries one inside you. Curling it to stroke deep.

• You tremble in his grip, hips bucking to demand more. Fucking you with that one servo in slow deliberate strokes until you’re mindlessly whimpering his name. Begging for him. Until he just can’t fight it anymore. That noise you make when he slips his wet servo free so sweet to him. Lifting your hips and guiding himself to you. And that noise when he buries himself fully inside you in one deep stroke? It almost undoes him right there. Shuddering with restraint, he grips your hips to keep you still while he reins himself in, because otherwise you’ll start moving in his lap and it’ll be over far too soon.

• “Soundwave,” you groan, head falling back against him as he keeps you still. Won’t thrust and won’t let you rock against him, tormenting you with that thick spike stretching you. “Please.” Growling against you, he lifts you until he’s almost free of you, shuddering when you grab onto his hands in protest, because you might just die if he does stop now. But then he’s lowering you again, slowly so you can feel every ridge and bump of his spike. Too slow when your body is thrumming and aching.

• It’s almost like drowning in you, the connection between you both one sided as your emotions crash over him and then he’s gripping your hips, moving you faster on his spike as your need fuels his own. Your head thrown back against him, needy sounds getting ragged and louder as he lifts his hips as he pulls you down, the wet sounds of your body taking his fraying the last of his control. Now he’s making noises, growling as he claims you in urgent drives of his hips and chasing after when you tighten on his spike. Burying himself deep and pinning you in place as he releases inside you, hips rocking to stretch it out.

TFP Soundwave x Reader-tease

• Always busy. Always working. You watch his long servos flying over that weird holographic keyboard, his visored face limned in the screen’s glow as line after line of indecipherable alien gibberish scrolls away. And you’re bored as you stare at his spiky back, mind wandering to things you could be doing instead of work. Like him. And that head turns to stare at you, tipping with predatory interest. The weight of that stare making you breathless with anticipation. Because while he can’t read your thoughts exactly as far as you can figure, he definitely can pick up on when your mind goes hurtling in that direction.

• Need and hunger, pull at him in an intoxicating rush as your face reddens because you know he knows. Snaring you with a tendril looped around your middle, he brings you to him and mass shifts. Your emotions crash over him, straining his own control as you cling to that tendril. Protesting with a laugh as he uses his servos to shred the thin coverings you wear. Needing more connection. A second tendril coiling around your upper thigh, curving to run against you and find you already so wet for him.

• Rocking your hips against the tendril to feel it sliding against you, it’s all you can do to bite back a whimper because he’s toying with you. “Mean. So mean,” you groan as the coil around you tightens slowly before easing. The tendril against you slides again in lovely friction but not nearly enough before he’s finally lowering you onto his spike, long servos curling around your hips to pull you down flush and keep you there. It’s for calling him mean. You know it is and his grip is too strong, you can’t move the way you want to. Need to move as you feel that big spike speared inside you, pulsing with his spark.

• So needy and impatient as he savors the feel of that wet, silken heat gripping his spike. Curling an arm around you, he carefully rolls you under him, pressing his visor against your throat as you gasp. Tendrils capture your wrists, pulling those soft hands up and pinning them and those eyes flash at him in annoyance. But if he lets you have any control, it’s over far too soon. You arch under him as he rocks himself against you teasingly before he begins to thrust in earnest. You don’t understand how hard it is to stay in control when he’s inside you, that telepathic link molten with your need. Feeling what you feel.

• Finally, he begins moving, that spike driving deep as he sets a brutal, urgent pace. He lets go of your wrists long enough to snake one tendril under you and hook around your waist, lifting your hips up and the next thrust slides deep, sparking through you. “Right there, please,” you want to push back to meet those thrusts and can’t with his grip, your hips up as he moves faster, harder, every deep stroke of that spike sliding right where you need it. Right there. And you’re coming apart with a cry as he ruts against you, silent except for the wet sounds of his spike pumping inside you and your own ragged cries before he drives deep, hips jerking against you as warmth spreads through you with his release. That visor rubs against your cheek until your eyes open, breathing raggedly and you snort when he offers you a little heart emoji.

[factual-fantasy]

I recently decided to add an Asgore to my AU because I think he's a really interesting and deep character that kiiiind'a gets clowned on a lot.. <XD I wanted to do him justice by bringing out what I like most about his character and overall vibe :}}

This was originally going to be in a post with like 6 other drawings. But I was so proud of how it came out that I wanted to post it by itself. :}}}}

His temporary lore/backstory is after the keep reading! :D

Asgore's story is a bit vague.. but I'm thinking he's in a similar situation to River Person and Grillby. He cant go back to his AU and is full of grief about it..

I know his AU wont be like classic Undertale. Maybe in his AU they were sent underground much later? Or not at all? Chara and Asriel could be older.. who knows. But I'm thinking that at some point.. while being married to Toriel and having both Chara and Asriel, he had to go to war.

He told his wife and kids that he loved them very much. He said goodbye to them and went to war.. In which he was later killed.. Somehow Jevil and his gang passing through, ripped his soul out of his AU and into the multiverse. In doing this his crown was left behind and he was prevented from fully turning into dust somehow..

If he were to return to his AU, he would just continue turning into dust and die. So he cannot return.

Now unlike Grillby or River Person, Asgore is able to cope with this situation a bit better than them.

He was able to say goodbye to his family before he died. And the last thing he said to them was that he loved them. He died protecting his people, and his sacrifice in battle is ultimately what led to their victory. His family will be full of grief, but they have his crown to remember him by. And Toriel is a very strong woman. He has no doubt that she has enough love in her soul for the both of them. And will raise their kids into strong and mature individuals without his help.

He is still grieving the fact that he will never see his family again, of course. But knowing that his family is still alive and will continue to thrive and live despite his absence.. its comforting really.

Asgore is now permamntly in a state of dusting, but not really..? He is made of dust but he is still very powerful. It doesn't seem like him dusting has effected his magic too much.. he's not really sure <XD

Since he no longer has his crown, he has blatantly just said "I am no king, not anymore." He now kind'a acts as the groups body guard. Also unlike Grillby, he is thankful that Jevil saved him. If Jevil hadn't accidentally interfered, Asgore would have just died anyway and never knew if his family was safe or if they had won the battle or not.

I have other ideas of Asgore being this really tender character, and devoting himself to protecting his "new family". I imagined him helping Grillby move on and cope with his grief.. and if he can still heal monsters/darkners.. I imagine him healing Seam and Spamton to ease them of their pain.. Even if its only temporarily relief. I like to think that he is this rock that the others can lean on.

All in all, this Asgore is a pretty neat dude. He's their friend now, they're having soft tacos later! :}

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

1.) Height comparisons? Tallest to shortest? I ways felt that Danny was tallest with Randy as the shortest, but Ben feels small too? And Rex feels giant.

2.) What would Jenny and Rex look like with Upgrade on them?If you have any concepts of them?

I love these little guys, btw they make me so happy!

1.) I actually have a height chart I never posted! I am STILL not completely locked in about them, but I've been holding onto it for a year, so I think I can post it since Ive not worked on it much. xD So while small details might vary in any future plot development, this is a rough height comparison for the HoMies:

My reasonings are that canonically (? at least according to Wikias) Jenny is at least 2 meters tall in the show. Which is a lil questionable, but I just headcanon her around that height, but it can vary depending on her transformations. In any case she is a tall Amazonian Mechanical Goddess.

Both Danny and Zak have very tall genes from both sides of their families. Jack F. is a freaking tank unit of a man, and while Maddie is probably somewhere above average height, her sister Alicia is built af, so there are some tall genes on their side of the family. Doc and Drew are both pretty tall, and Doyle too, so chances of Zak being on a taller side are very good.

Jun canonically has very long legs (which was mentioned as too long for an 11 y.o. to which I relate a lot, because I was very tall at 11 too xD) & Randy is a very noodly boy, so I feel like they will grow pretty tall. But Randy is also very slight in built which will make him seem smaller.

Ben in his alt futures is supposedly very tall, but Omniverse throws a curve with him suddenly seeming smaller at 16, so?? I kinda settled on him being kinda average male height, which can go either way when he gets older.

Rex is kinda opposite, because at 16-17 he is pretty tall, but not overly huge (considering that he is still shorter than Six but only a little taller than Holiday on heels, so he is taller than average female height), but I headcanon him having grown tall very early. So I kind of settled on another average that can go either way as years go.

And yes, he is a little taller and buffer than Ben, because when they swapped jackets in Heroes United, Ben's jacket is tighter on him and that fact is forever my favorite headcanon. xD

Jake and Kim are short monarchs! Well, compared to others, lol xD. In reality they are only a few inches/cm lower than average heights! I am a big fan of Jake being a short powerhouse (its also supported by his genetics, mainly by his grandfather Lao Shi, who is pretty short even when he was younger) in his human form, which doesn't affect his dragon form. Kim is a small lean power machine - she is small, agile and fast, for a normal human.

2.) Oh! I did have another idea I sort of toyed with (A sort of 'fusions' for HoMies for another old ask I got, but I never got around to drawing them lol sorry), but I never actually drew anything like that! This is a fun idea to doodle-

After the finale Rex has changed and I would like to think that Ben will notice! After all becoming a god temporarily would be something of an upgrade! xD And tbh I think Jenny, as a sentient machine would not particularly enjoy being Upgraded! It would feel a little bit like possession, but with a side effect of your guts being rearranged without your consent, like?? yikes

Aaaaaa, thank you!!! I'm so glad people get joy from this crossover, even if im so inconsistent with actually posting staff for it QvQ <3

[honkytonk-hangman]

How It's Done – Oneshot Version

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Originally posted by unicornships

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: Originally I intended this to be a two-parter series, but I wanted to change how it went, so I rewrote the parts I didn't like and made the entire thing into a oneshot instead!!! This fic will replace the 'part one' already on my blog, but I will keep this part up, linked at the very bottom of my masterlist! thank you everyone for being so patient! Thank you @hangmanssunnies, my love my biggest support <3

Words: 11.6k!

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you. 

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

-

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

-

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I��� No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

-

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

-

You try to avoid Phoenix’s hard stare, and focus on wiping down your helmet.

“You’re acting weird,” she finally announces, still managing to make you jump despite your anticipation. You then immediately proceed to do yourself exactly zero favours, proving her point by refusing to look up at her, choosing to instead hurriedly continue with your current task.

“What? No I’m not. I’m fine. You’re being weird,” you argue, wincing at your clearly abysmal attempts at behaving like a normal adult human. You start re-cleaning the pristine surface of your helmet, your nerves conjuring imperfections you logically know don’t exit.

Just before you completely lose yourself down the spiral of unhealthy compulsive behaviours, A hand, Nat’s hand, stops your own. Tugging the cloth out of your hands and taking your helmet away from you, she places it down on the workbench you stand on opposite sides of. Chewing your lip, you at last meet her eye.

“Miri, it’s okay to have a crush–”

“–I don’t have a crush!” You blurt out both far too quickly to be believable, as well as in sheer panic. Your face grows immediately hot, and you can tell Phoenix is trying not to laugh at the show you’re putting on so poorly. Her lips twitch, but her expression softens from amusement into something softer, mixed with traces of pity. Just when you’re starting to debate the pros and cons of sprinting out of the room, getting in your jet, and then flying away never to be seen again, she relents, releasing you from her eye contact and making herself busy as she tidies up bits and bobs littering the workbench.

You swallow thickly, and stay watching her, your heart rate only spiking higher as your anxiety builds once more at her sudden apparent indifference. You follow her movements without moving an inch, sharply aware that not only was she still very much focused solely on scrutinising you, but even more mortifyingly, that this conversation was far from being over.

“Nat,” you say with surprisingly more strudiness than you believed possible, pausing to swallow the dryness in your mouth. “I don’t have a crush, okay?” You wait for her to look back over at you, nothing but disbelief rolling off of her faux-casualty, giving you a bullshit shrug and a smile.

“Okay.” she says. You had hoped that would be enough, but you should have known better. You clear your throat again.

“Nat,” you say, only making yourself louder, as if that was a sign of nothing going on. She looks up at you somewhat blankly. You know you’re totally screwed already as her eyes dip to watch your finger begin quickly tapping on the bench before you with barely any acknowledgement from yourself. “There’s nothing weird going on,” you say, pleading with your voice and face and every atom of your being that she drops it.

She drops something, unfortunately it’s not the subject though, but you still feel some semblance of stress leaving your body as her fake lack of care dissolves, and she leans back to rest against the cabinet behind her. She crosses her arms and shrugs again while letting out a soft, pitying sigh, which this time doesn’t raise your non-existent heckles as much as it had when it first showed its face.

You stare at one another, at what you think is an impasse and wordless agreement to now never talk of this episode in your friendship ever again, but once again, you should have known better.

“If it’s any consolation, I think he has a crush on you too, so it's not like it’s a total waste of energy… despite all evidence to the contrary,” She says conversationally at first, before muttering out the last part under her breath.

“He doesn’t,” you state with so much certainty you almost forget for a moment that it’s not even a little bit true. Instead, crossing your arms too, you feel like a middle schooler having a much too serious fight with her friend at lunch. “We’ve just become closer, like all of the squad have. You’re just noticing it cause you want to!” you’re a little taken aback by the sound logic of your own reasoning, all points earned to your side then immediately becoming forfeit when you can’t help yourself from stupidly continuing to speak. “Why? Has he said something?!”

Your outburst of near-giddy excitement destroys all chances of you walking this back, and you find yourself with only one option left available. But your prior readiness to exit out of this failed interaction at roughly 300 kts/min becomes soberingly not so fun to fantasise about when you sheepishly remember the current charges against you, for the theft of the $70 million dollar military aircraft you’d technically stolen when you and Jake had taken a joy ride to pick up Mav and Rooster.

You're snapped back into the present as Natasha Trace regards you unreadably and slowly lifts one perfect eyebrow at you. You cover your face and hang your head, you reason with your now permanently mortified brain that if you just admitted to the thing she already believed to be true, she’d stop looking any closer, possibly finding out something actually secret.

It helps that your embarrassment for the flurry of extremely obvious questions is very real, and you groan into your palms. You hear before you see Phoenix laugh, listening to her chortle at your outing yourself, but you notice that he demeanour is warmer now, and she pushes herself up to sit on the top of the bench between you, crossing her legs.

“He’s not said a thing, but he doesn’t need to,” she tells you, seemingly glad to just be able to share her findings and observations, which you uncomfortably realise have been going on for a lot longer than you realised.

“It's what he’s not saying,” she explains, and you blink up at her in genuine curiosity.

“Huh?”

Phoenix turns her gaze upward as she thinks.

“He doesn’t make fun of you… or snipe at you, not really,” she begins, resting her head in her hand. “To be honest when we first met, I was expecting to defend you. You’re a good pilot, a great one, but Hangman isn’t exactly known for recognising that in others…”

You frown up at her, unsure of anything to say to abate her suspicions.

She’s not exactly wrong, even when the two of you were first stationed together, he’d never poked fun at you, never really called you out. To be fair, he hadn’t really acknowledged your presence at all, but these days you knew that was more to do with the fact that all this time, Hangman had liked you, had seen you were shy, and didn’t like crowds, and as you’d found out recently, often made more of a spectacle of himself to draw attention away from you.

You have to stop yourself from smiling dreamily at the thought of him.

“And I mean, he disobeyed direct orders for you, he knew what you were doing, and he went with you anyway… I’m just saying Miri, I don’t think you’d be disappointed if you were to say something–”

You quickly cut her off.

“I’m not saying anything to him!”

At last, given your already clear admittance of your supposed ‘crush’, Phoenix relents, holding up her hands and shrugging.

“Just think about it alright? It’s even sort of… cute, in a weird, Hangman-y way.”

You grumble at her, but thankfully she doesn’t bring it up again for the rest of the afternoon. Still, you leave the workshop with a sparkling helmet, cleaner than you think it ever has been, and with a pressing matter to relay to your boyfriend, most of which involves playing it much, much cooler in front of Phoenix the next time you all hang out.

-

You know you’ve made some personal growth when you answer the door in your matching Star Wars X-Wing PJ’s and slippers, and aren’t immediately mortified.

Jake stands there, already grinning back at you, and looking like a greek god sent to earth in his dark jeans and plain white shirt.

“Red Leader Mirage, your rescuer has arrived!” he announces, doing what you judge to be a surprising spot-on impression of Lt. Porkins from Star Wars, shooting a lazily salute down at slippers

Unfortunately, you aren’t given the chance to ask him more about his perfect Red Six however, as he’s almost immediately pushing away from where he’d been leaning against the side of your door, posing for your perusal you assume, and holds out a brown paper bag for you to take. You swipe it, and shoot him a thankful smile.

“Thank you, Jake, really…” you side-step his self-congratulatory jokes, but he doesn’t seem phased, simply shrugging, and taking a step closer to you, letting one hand rest gently on your shoulder, before he hooks it and tugs you into him.

You’d started getting all-too familiar with just how physically attentive Jake seemed to be, something you would never have guessed about him several weeks ago, but had come to terms with now. Clingy was never a word you would have used to describe him before. He hugs you briefly, then pulls back to look down at you, his brow furrowed and his expression filled with genuine concern, another thing you’d been getting more familiar with.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, inviting himself in by walking you backwards and kicking your door closed lightly behind him. You’d come not to mind this sort of thing either, but mostly because you know if you asked him to leave again, he would, no questions asked. That was another new thing you’d been learning about Jake Seresin.

In comparison to how Hangman could be up in the sky, Jake was entirely understanding, one hundred percent supportive, and almost a little too observant when it came to your particular anxieties. It meant he often knew without you saying when to push you, and when to not, and on the occasion that you did need to say, he always respected those boundaries.

It was starting to make you nervous, how much you were growing to like him.

“Cramps are kicking my ass, but other than that, mostly fine. Thank you for these,” you try again, hoping that he really understands just how much you appreciate him coming over for you tonight. Never in your life would you have imagined feeling comfortable enough to ask Hangman to stop by the pharmacy and pick you up sanitary products, and never would you have imagined he’d make no issue of it.

“Sure,” he says, again with a shrug. “You want me to head out?” he asks then, tipping his head back at your door, even as he inches his face closer to yours, brushing his nose tip against yours. Your lips quirk, then break out into a full smile when he grins before dipping low enough to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Your stomach somersaults and pulls at least ten G’s for sure as he continues to brush his lips against yours teasingly.

This hadn’t taken much getting used to at all. Jake was a good kisser, and had proved it after your second date, almost in the exact place you were now, both his hands cupping your cheeks and his lips full on yours, hungry and insistent. That had been almost four weeks ago now, but after his hands had tugged your hips flush to his, you’d quickly put the breaks on.

You were still slightly uncertain about going further with Jake so soon. The fact was, you worked together in a high impact, high stress job, and if anything should happen between you, it would be easier to keep things professional if you took it slow

Jake had, to your slight surprise, though you aren't sure exactly what you were expecting, nodded slowly and taken a step back. He’d told you that the only thing he wanted more than you, was for you to want him too. You’d had to explain that your position wasn’t because you didn’t want him, which had led to more making out, but he hadn’t pushed to go further and he’d left that night with the affirmation that however long you wanted to wait was alright by him.

“No, you can stay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his neck to stop him from pulling away too much as you try not to full-on pout. Jake smiles against your lips and presses into you further, moving to push you against the wall, where he crowds your space entirely and stops teasing you, capturing your lips with his at last.

You’re about to experimentally slide your hand up his shirt, a thought that had been lingering in your mind more and more these past few days, but your kiss is over too soon, and he pulls back, leaving you breathless.

“Weren’t you waiting for me, so you could do chores?” he prompts, nearly making you grumble. Instead you nod, and gently push back against him, heading towards your bedroom just down the main hall.

“You can wait in here if you like,” you suggest, feeling a little nervous about the idea, but it was something you’d been thinking about for a while now. Even if you and Jake weren’t sleeping together, that didn’t mean the two of you couldn’t sleep together, did it? It was something you’d wanted, specifically with him, but not really something you’d ever experienced before. You were ready to move out of these early stages of your relationship, eager to push yourself and your limits just a little, so you could settle into something more comfortable with Jake, something where you weren’t always a little surprised when he touched you, or called you by one of his innumerable pet names.

Jake shoves his hands in his pockets and nods, clearly thinking through what this invitation could mean as he follows you quietly.

“Um, I feel like I should say ‘excuse the mess’, but you know–” you cut yourself off and gesture around your bedroom when you both have entered. Jake snorts.

“Well that’s what being in the Navy gets you. I won’t judge if you say it anyway,” he tells you lightly, and you scoff.

“Yes you will!” you insist, and are met with a confident, familiar cheshire-grin.

“Mhm, but only a little. Have you changed your mind, honey?” he steps toward you again then, almost closing the distance in one stride, his hands still shoved in his pockets, but his gaze locked intently on you in a way you haven’t felt since that second date. Your heart beats so loudly you’re sure he must be able to hear, but he doesn’t mention it, just waits for you, crowding your space again.

“Oh, I– No… not… I didn’t… I’m sorry…”

The moment you speak Jake is stepping back, pulling his hands from his pockets to hold them up, his expression losing the intensity again.

“No need to apologise, my mistake.” Jake’s words are sincere, but he looks away from you.

You let out a little sigh.

“It’s just so soon, and with the trial–”

“–You don’t have to explain yourself, honey,” Jake pulls his hands from his pockets at last and places them at your waist, drawing you in. You fall quiet as he lowers his face to yours, though he teases you again by not kissing you, simply looking you over, and then smirking when you pout. “You want it when you want it, and that’s when I want it, okay?”

He makes you nod, before he at last lowers his lips to meet yours and kisses you, slow and sweet. You finally get the chance to test the waters a little, easing your hand carefully underneath the back of his shirt, making you giggle against his mouth when he jumps slightly at the feel of your skin on his. Jake doesn’t say or do anything about it though, thankfully just letting you explore a little as he tips your head back further to deepen your kiss, and you brush your fingers up his spine.

After a short while of this, he must feel the urge to tease you again, because with little to no hesitation at all, unlike you, he slips his hands beneath your shirt, his warm palms gripping onto the bare skin just above your PJ shorts, almost making you moan. You’re glad you’re able to hold back the sound, mostly, but your own surprise doesn’t go unnoticed by the blond currently kissing you.

He only continues doing so for a short minute longer, before he’s eventually pulling back, lips pink and kiss swollen. You can’t help but frown at the parting. He squeezes your waist, and nudges your nose with his own.

“What do you want to do, honey?”

You groan at the apparent lack of making out in your future, not because you don’t think he’d agree, but mostly because you’re not quite ready to ask him for more, though a part of you senses he’s not willing to let you off the hook for those chores you’d told him about earlier.

“I need to fold this laundry,” you point past him, to your walk-in wardrobe and the basket that lies within. Jake looks over at it and lifts an eyebrow, which you choose to ignore. He nods then, and takes a step away from you, making you frown even more when his hands fall from your body.

“I’ll help,” he says, making your eyes widen, and you quickly step around him to block his path, where he is clearly about to make for your basket.

“No! Um… It’s okay, It’ll be easier if I just do it…” you trail off, wondering if you sound insane and neurotic, but Jake simply raises his hands again and nods.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” he prods, and you realise, he’s come inside thinking you want him to help with your chores.

“I was thinking… I was thinking it might just be nice for you to just… be here?” You cringe, and narrowly avoid making a face at yourself. Jake blinks at you as if he doesn’t understand.

“You want me to… sit around while you do laundry?” he asks, tone confused, but equally unimpressed. You nod. Jake shifts, then clicks his tongue. “I was not raised to let somebody work while I sit and watch, especially not my girl. My mother would tan my hide.”

You’re a little surprised by the seriousness on his face, despite the humorous inflection in his voice. You suck in a breath, mulling over how to explain to him what you had been thinking when he came inside. Jake’s eyes flicker over you for a moment before he shifts again, crossing his arms and lifting his chin at you.

“Alright sweetheart, just say what you gotta say, I can hear those cogs turning from here…”

“I… I like that you want to help me, I think that’s really sweet…”

“But…?” Jake prompts.

“I find this kinda thing hard, and I was hoping we could just try and do something… domestic…? Together?” your face goes hot at your admission, and when Jake doesn’t immediately respond you wonder if using the word ‘domestic’ was too much, too soon.

“What is ‘this kind of thing’? I get the other part honey,” again, his voice is playful, but you see the seriousness behind his eyes and it lends you even more comfort. How is he so good at this? It’s almost like he’d read your teenage diary entry all about your perfect guy… it's the sort of attention, care, and behaviour that you’ve never actually gotten from a guy you were seeing before, so you aren’t really sure how to compose yourself.

“This kind of thing,” you gesture between you and him, before clearing your throat. “I don't know what to call it– us, but–”

“–a relationship.” Jake cuts in firmly, and you pause, heart thumping. You hadn't actually had this discussion yet, but you guess you’re having it now.

“Right. I mean, I’ve been in relationships before, but they’ve never really worked out and I feel like I never get to the point with boyfriends where I feel fully comfortable, so I–” you clamp your mouth shut, both at the use of ‘boyfriend’, and at the fact you were rambling, and you’re pretty sure it's too early to start telling him about how all your prior relationships failed.

“Right. So, let me get this straight; you were going to come back in here and put your laundry away, regardless of me being here?” Jake holds up a hand as he repeats back the information.

“Yeah…”

“And you just want me to keep you company?”

You nod, and clear your throat.

“Yeah.”

Jake stares at you, a level of understanding crossing his face, before his eyes flick to your laundry behind you, then back to your face.

“... And you’re sure I can’t help you?” His resolve sounds weak, and you think he’s already made up his mind to do as you asked, but his upbringing requires him to triple check. You smile, and this time step toward him, gingerly resting your hand on his arm, which he immediately raises, and flips, sliding it so now you’re holding his hand.

Again, you can’t fathom how he got so good at this sort of thing. Your knees go wobbly.

“I have a bunch of lacy unmentionables in there, so…” you try to lighten things, but it's not a lie. Jake picks up what you’re putting down, and gives your hand a squeeze. He tips his chin at you and lifts an eyebrow.

“Now why’d you have to go and say that honey? You sure you’re certain I can’t help?” his hands slip from yours to rest at your hips again, completely bypassing your top this time and your heart stutters.

You bite your lip, and nod your head, trying not to laugh him off fully, because while that may be your instinctual nervous reaction, you didn’t want to discourage him entirely. You liked that Jake acted as if you were a pretty girl, like you were desirable, and not like the awkward dork you actually were. You didn't want him to stop doing that.

His expression turns a little softer, and he leans down, moving slowly as to give you time to process, and he presses his lips to your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he taps your sides with his fingers, then steps away.

You’re still catching your breath when he looks back at you, pointing at what looks like one corner of your bed.

“Can I?”

You nod, and gesture at the whole mattress.

“Make yourself comfortable!”

–

You can feel the pounding music of the club in your whole body. The lights flashing and dancing in different colourways in time with the music give everything around you an ever changing aura, and maybe it’s all the drinks you’ve had tonight, but in front of you, Natasha seems to glow.

Her hands grasp your forearm firmly and you giggle, uncharacteristically carefree as you almost slip again.

“Alright! Okay, let's get you seated!” she says. She’s had a few too, but not nearly as many as you, and you’re glad for it now as she steers you toward the bar and grabs a paper cup to fill with water from the nearby water station toward the end. You find yourself drinking it without prompting, but miss the taste of the fruity cocktails you’d been downing all night. “I’ll call us a cab,” she says, beginning to pull out her phone, but you hastily stop her, placing a hand on her arm and shaking your head rapidly, making the colours spin even more.

“No! My boyfriend said he’d pick us up!” you insist, ignoring the way her eyebrows shoot up, then stitch together.

“You boyfriend?” she asks, but you miss the real question behind her words, instead you simply nod, and begin to fumble around in your own purse until you find your phone. Nat watches you expectantly as you open your messages, quickly tapping ‘call' on the top icon, and pressing the phone to one ear, and your finger to the other.

It rings less than once before it connects.

“Heeyy!” you sigh in relief down the line, happy to even just hear his voice after all night going without. “Yeah, no, everything’s alright, you just said to call you when we were done!” you say in reply to his amused questioning. You look up at Nat briefly, and if you were more sober, you might’ve been able to tell that she was leaning in slightly to try and hear the voice on the other end, but you aren’t, so you don’t.

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front!” you tell him excitedly, before adding on; “Is it okay if we give Nat a ride home too?” there's a short reply, and at last you’re smiling wide and nodding, even though he can’t see you. “Okay, we’ll see you soooon!”

You hang up and stare back up at Natasha, who's giving you a funny look that you ignore. “He said he’ll be here in ten, he’s been at the sports bar in town waiting!” you tell her dreamily, like she might understand what it means to you that Jake would choose to remain only a short distance away in case you needed anything, in the knowledge that you didn’t always enjoy nights out like this.

Nat simply nods and after making you drink one more glass of water, you begin making your way through the crowds and out of the club.

The air outside is warm, but refreshing and you take in as much of it as you can, not realising how stuffy the air inside the club had been until now. It was getting late, and bars and restaurants around the club are lit up and busy, the streets all around full of people either on their way to their destination, or lingering as they talk.

It doesn’t take long for you to spot Jake’s car and he pulls up close to the curb, allowing you to beeline for the passengers side door, not realising that Natasha follows with more confusion and trepidation. Jake jumps out of the car to greet you, rounding it to quickly steady your wobbly walk with a hand on your hip, and with the other, he pulls open the car door and helps you inside, leaning in to help you buckle in, grinning even as he murmurs quietly.

“You had a good night, sweetheart?” he asks, clicking your seatbelt into place for you, making you giggle at him. You lean forward for a kiss, but he dodges you, somewhat more aware than you are of your present company, and instead rests his hand so he can squeeze your knee. Your good mood isn’t spoiled and you barely notice the dodged kiss, so you simply nod your assent to his question vehemently.

“I had a lot to drink!” you tell him, before bursting out into giggles again, the soft, sweet smile Jake gives you going unnoticed as he squeezes your leg again.

“Yes you did,” he says with clear, fond amusement, and at last moves back so he can shut your door.

Unlike you, on the other hand, Natasha may as well be sober as a judge, and she eyes Jake somewhat distrustfully as she steps closer, lifting her chin up at him as she talks.

“What’re you doing here?” she asks accusingly, making Jake cock his head at her, only half as annoyingly as he can. He gestures back at you in the front seat of his car.

“Miri called, sounded pretty hammered,” he tells her as if that explained it. Natasha narrows her eyes and crosses her arms.

“Yeah, but she said she was calling her boyfriend, what’re you doing here?” She dares him to reply with anything but the truth, however luckily for Jake, unlike most men caught in her crossfire, he’s able to brush her off with an infuriating grin.

“I guess she dialled the wrong number, do you want a lift home or not?”

At his ultimatum (however hollow it really is, he wouldn’t leave her on her own in the middle of the night), Natasha frowns darker at him, but accepts the door he opens, waiting for her to get settled before he closes it behind her and returns to the driver's side.

When Jake checks his rearview he notes in amusement that Nat has situated herself in the middle seat, giving herself a perfect view of the two of you in the front. You don’t, nor do you seem to have any weariness in the bloodhound you’ve just set upon the both of you, but if he’s honest, Jake had known from day one that the second Natasha Trace suspected anything, your little secret was over.

He drives back as normally as he can, but it's strange to him now to have you sitting right there in his passenger's seat, and not have his hand in yours, or on your thigh. It’s strange to him to be in this space where the two of you are usually so open with your affection, and have to suppress it. Jake does not like it.

The car ride home is quiet, you seem content to look out the window, the tiredness hitting you now, but every so often he and Nat make small talk about whatever football scores interested them in the past week or two, and before too long, he’s pulling up outside her home.

Looking over at you to find that you’re slumped over asleep on his window, Jake follows Natasha out of the car with a simple offer of making sure she gets in alright. The congeniality doesn’t last very long, and once they’re standing on her porch she turns to him with a frown.

“You don’t really think I’m that stupid, do you?” she asks, for once not sounding angry or scolding, but seemingly subdued, maybe even a little upset. Jake sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Looking back to his car to make sure you’re still alright, he levels his squadmate with a serious expression.

“No, I do not,” he tells her sincerely. “But it’s Miri’s choice to not want to be public yet, all I’m asking is that you respect that,” he goes on after a moment. He doesn’t really believe she would say anything, but he feels the need to get her agreement, if only for your peace of mind in the morning.

Nat hums to herself and briefly looks away to fish out her keys. Once she has them in hand, she looks up at him again, a little grin on her face this time.

“How long?” she asks. Jake rolls his eyes and can’t resist the urge to mess with her just a little.

“Few years,” he states matter of factly, waiting for her eyes to pop wide before he lets out a victorious laugh and shakes his head. “A month or two,” he admits truthfully, accepting the hard sock in the arm as Nat scoffs at him and moves to unlock her front door.

“Something, something, I’ll kick your ass if you hurt her,” she grumbles as she steps inside, immediately kicking off her shoes. Jake straightens up and gives her a mock salute.

“Yes Ma’am,” he says, chortling to himself as he receives a middle finger for his efforts and the door is closed and locked again.

Jake feels a little lighter on his walk back to his car, and when he climbs in, he leans over to carefully adjust your crooked neck and make sure your belt is still strapped properly. You wake a little, confused at first, and blink up at him in happy wonderment.

“Hey!” you mumble, like it's the first time you’ve seen him tonight. Jake chuckles and leans closer to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s get you home baby.”

–

You awake the next morning with nowhere near the headache you’re expecting, but with an array of distinct memories that cause a pit to open up in your stomach. The pit then begins to growl as you register the warm, homey smell of food, and with little effort, you force yourself up and into the kitchen, where you immediately attach yourself to Jake’s bare back.

His skin is warm and feels so comfy against your cheek, and the soft little laugh he gives makes your belly flop around. He lets you stay like that for a few moments more, moving slowly but smoothly so you can move with him, and at last when whatever he’s doing with his hands is finished, he reaches around for you and rests his hands where he can.

“Did I really call you last night? While with Nat?” you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’d just imagined it all, but another soft chuckle lets you know you hadn’t.

“Never thought you’d be the one to let our little secret slip first. I underestimated you baby.”

You groan into his back, and try to hide your face, but before you can complain or dodge him, Jake has turned himself around, letting you instead smoosh your face in between his gloriously golden pecs, and you think things may not be so bad.

He wraps his arms around you properly, and for a moment you just stay like that. You wonder if you can convince him to come around shirtless more often, the warmth radiating off his skin feeling heavenly, not to mention he looked almost as delicious as the food he’d made. You wonder if he’d already worked out this morning, or if you can join him after breakfast.

One of Jake’s hands moves away from your back and cups the back of your head tenderly, making you mewl slightly, and you look up at him to give the attention you know he’s asking for. Jake stares down at you with a soft little grin, and readjusts himself slightly, so he’s able to drop his lips to meet yours briefly.

One kiss becomes two kisses, becoming three kisses and after that any semblance of chastity is given up on and he kisses you full and sweet, deliberately slow like he’s teasing you to ask for more, but for now you’re simply content to wash away all of last nights worries like this.

Coming up for air, Jake barely breaks apart from you, his lips still brushing yours when he speaks.

“I asked Nat not to say anything, she respects you enough to do that I think,” he says, dropping a few more soft kisses to your mouth when you crane your neck up for more. He goes no further this time, though, and leans back from you to gauge your reaction after several moments, and you force yourself to open your eyes and pout.

“It’s not that I think she’ll tell anyone…” you say to him, scrunching up your features as you recall your lack of playing it cool the first time she had brought Jake up to you. The memory makes you grumble to yourself, and you once more attempt to hide your face in his chest. Jake laughs, and makes you jump when he pokes your side.

“What is it?” he asks, like he already knows. You tell him, voice muffled in his skin, but clear enough for the details of your embarrassing inability to throw the scent off to be heard. Jake’s body shakes with more laughter as you relay the information, but instead of trying to make you stop hiding away, he simply cups the back of your head again, and holds it nearer, allowing you to wither your embarrassment away in the safety of him.

“I think we both know that the minute that woman suspected anything, it was game over,” he tells you once you’re done, still holding you close, but you feel his lips press to the top of your head sweetly, and you do your best to snuggle yourself closer.

After the bulk of your mortification has eased away, Jake makes you detach from him, but only so the two of you can eat your breakfast while it’s still hot.

“You know I don’t want to keep it quiet, like, forever, right?” you ask out of nowhere, your memories of last night replaying over in your head while you ate. Jake looks up at you and cocks his head.

“I’m happy to do whatever you’d like to do, for as long as you’d like to do it,” he says matter of factly, but despite the sweetness of his words, you can’t help but frown at him.

“No you’re not, and we both know it,” you push back, grateful for his always tender manner of going at your pace, but you’d likely never have been with him in the first place if he hadn’t thrown you out of your comfort zone that first time.

The only difference is, now you are with Jake, and you understood these things about yourself, and how they weren’t always as scary as your mind might make them seem. Jake frowns back at you, clearly ready to protest.

“I know you pretty well too, you know,” you cut him off. “I know you like PDA, and that you wish you were able to be more open when we’re out with people. I know you like to show off, and part of that includes me,” you tell him adamantly, because you know you’re right.

Jake huffs out a sigh and leans back in his chair, looking at you dead on, you know him well enough to know he’s a little annoyed at you calling him out, but you aren’t doing it to annoy him or just for the sake of starting an argument.

“Okay, so what if I do? That doesn’t change the fact that until you want something, I’m not gonna go for it,” he says, still frowning at you like he doesn’t understand what the point of talking this through is even about.

You change tack and, with your heart beat thumping a little wildly, get up from your seat and move toward him. Even in his annoyance, Jake makes room for you, pushes out his chair and wraps his arms around your waist when you seat yourself on his thigh, your own arms linking around his neck.

“Well maybe I’m giving you permission to go for it,” you say softly, quietly, because the idea still does make you incredibly nervous. But you like Jake, no scratch that, you think you’re in love with Jake, and you think he’s in love with you too, and something about that feeling for once in your life makes you want the same things he does too, including the PDA. You want him to sling his arm around your neck, you want to be able to kiss his cheek or hold his hand or whatever it is you two want to do, not just in the comfort of your own homes, but out at the Hard Deck with your friends, too.

Jake blinks up at you, like at first your words don’t even register, but then he’s tightening his hold around your waist, and grinning wolfishly up at you, all cocky and infuriating if you didn’t find it utterly charming. If you didn’t completely adore him, even this part.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant?” he asks mischievously, and you can’t stop yourself from giggling, like you’re drunk all over again.

“Permission granted, Lieutenant!”

[fallingdownhell]

Inazuma men when you walk in on them in an intimate position with your sister/best friend.

YES, some angsty shit again! Uhhh, I like it when it hurts xD

Characters Included: Ayato; Heizou; Kazuha; Gorou

Content: gender neutral reader; she/her pronouns for your friend/sister; cheating; hurt/no comfort; angst and drama; you walk in on them; suggestive on some parts; Gorou being manipulated; non-consent on Kazuha's part, but not explicit!!

Word count: 2,4k words

Thank you so much for giving me an angsty request. Have fun reading!

Ayato

He would think so high and mighty of himself

Like, he was sure that he was hiding it pretty damn well and that you would never find out about his little secret

you have been engaged to Ayato for some time now, the wedding due to happen soon

it has been a marriage of convinience, both for him as well as your family, yet you were relieved when you found out you were going to marry Ayato, having had a crush on him for a little over a year now

you thought that over the time he got to know you, he also developed feelings for you, he certainly did tell you so

for a long time, you were blinded by the illusion you so desperately wanted to believe, ignorant to the sad and sympathatic looks Ayato's staff would give you

You excused his long and late hours away from you, telling yourself that he was just catching up on work and that he was alright

You only started to get somewhat suspicious when you noticed one of your friends visiting the Kamisato estate rather frequently, but only ever staying for a short period of time, while she never even talked to you when here

still, you gave them both the benefit of the doubt, thinking that they might just be working on something together

Thoma, however, knew what was going on behind your back. He wanted to tell you on so many different occaisions, yet he had to think of his own job as well and how his actions could put himself at risk, as well. So, he never said a single word to you, keeping you oblivious

until one day, it was late at night again and Ayato told you he would be working late again

you nodded and let him get back to his work, but later decided to surprise him with some snacks and refreshments you wanted to bring him

you were feeling kind of giddy when you approached his office door with the tray in your hands, as you noticed weird sounds coming from behind the doors

you didn't want to believe your ears, this couldn't be happening.. not your Ayato..

so you pushed open the door slightly, enough for you to peek into the room, only to have your world crushed in front of your eyes, along with all your hopes and dreams for the future

your ears did not decieve you, Ayato was, in fact, cheating on you this very moment with the person you thought to be one of your best friends

what's even worse was that he noticed you, standing by the door, having caught them in the act

and all he did, was smirk at you as he leaned down and bit into the other womans neck to which she let out a loud moan

shocked, the tray slipped out of your hands as you turned on your heels and started running down the halls, tears streaming down your face

you passed Thoma on the way to your room who shot you another sympathetic look.

He knew it... he was in on it..

now it finally dawned on you, and it all made sense.. why everyone was always looking at you like this.. they were all in on it.. you were the only one who wasn't aware..

still crying, you grabbed a bag and took some of your most important belongings as well as some clothes, before you left this estate you once hoped you could call your home

seems like some things just weren't meant to work out in life...

Heizou

he wouldn't want to do it, but he would if he could get some kind of benefit from it

Heizou has always been a very flirty personality, even while in a relationship with you. It caused arguments on more than one occaision

he would always tell you that he would stop doing it.. that promise would sometimes last for a week, often times shorter than that, before he got right back to his usual behaviour

the worst part was, that he saw nothing wrong with this type of behaviour

as long as it got him the results he desired, he didn't care for the method he had to use

it was cruel in a way, but he didn't want to acknowledge that he could do wrong as well

when this particular incident occured was when he finally realized how wrong his attitude had been

he had been stumped on a particular case for a few days now, no new leads showing up and the trail was starting to get cold

it frustrated him beyond anything else and to top it off, he was currently engaged in yet another heated argument with you

you were ticked off by the way he was shamelessly flirting with a shopkeeper, right in front of you while on a date

he tried to explain that he just tried to get some clues out of her, but you didn't seem to want to hear it

after some more yelling, you left the house to catch some fresh air and cool off, while Heizou stayed back

he sat in front of his files again, trying to make sense of all the clues when someone knocked on the front door

he recognised your sister there and while he planned on sending her away at first, she made him an offer he just couldn't turn down so easily

spending one night with her in exchange for the missing clues he needed to solve this case

he didn't think long before agreeing to this deal

she entered the house and it didn't take long before things got heated and they both landed on the bed he normally shared with you

it didn't really feel right to do this, but he was doing it for the greater good. He's sure you would understand that

while they were in the middle of things, with her being on top, riding him, he suddenly heard the front door open and a sharp inhale being taken

he whipped his head around, seeing you standing there, looking shocked and hurt

immediately after that, you turned and ran out the door again, he saw tears beginning to form in your eyes. He wanted to get up and run after you, but.... he couldn't. He had to keep up his part of the deal. He could always talk to you the next day

when he sought you out the next day, you were refusing to speak to him.. and the day after... as well as the day after that

he was getting frustrated, missing holding you in his arms. He grew irritated without you around..

the next day, he saw you in the streets of Inazuma City, so he walked up to you

However, once he reached you, he was met with a slap in the face. It stung, and he looked at you in surprise

tears welled up in your eyes again as you turned and tried to leave again, but he quickly snatched your wrist, trying to explain his reasons to you

you stayed and listened, but your expression was hard and ice cold the entire time

"I hope it was worth it in the end, because you lost me for good now"

that was the last thing you ever said to him again before you left his life for good

and finally, Heizou understood what he had been doing wrong this entire time... and he regretted his decisions like nothing else in his life...

Kazuha

now for Kazuha... he is a very honest and loyal soul

you never would have thought that you had to worry about anything like that with him, already having bad experiences from a previous relationship

Kazuha always made time for you, made you feel loved and appreciated, always told you how much he loved and adored you, whishing you would stay with him forever

you honestly felt the same way about him, already imagining a future together with him

but... we all know how easily Kazuha can get drunk.. and just how drunk he gets from so few drinks..

you were going out with some of your friends to party a bit, and you decided to invite your boyfriend along

he didn't mind it, deciding not to drink anything so he could keep an eye on you and make sure you're safe throughout the entire night

it went well in the beginning. You were moderately drinking with your friends while he was sipping on whatever non-alcoholic beverage he ordered for himself

he always kept an eye on you, but at some point of the night, he lost sight of you

while walking around the vicinity, looking around trying to find you, he ran into one of your friends, who was obviously pretty drunk at this point

she clung onto Kazuha, staying close to him, slowing him down immensely

at some point, she offered him a drink. He refused at first, but she kept insisting, promising that it would be non-alcoholic

being the sweetheart that Kazuha is, he gave in after some time, only to realize too late that she had been lying, it was very much an alcoholic drink

but it was too late already, she forced him to down the glass and then another one right after, getting him drunk

in this state, he didn't have control over his mind or his actions, he just went along with whatever she said to him

so what if she suggested to go into an isolated corner so that they could have some "fun"

in his inebriated state, he didn't realize that the person he was doing it with, wasn't you

only when he heard a gasp and saw you standing there a few feet away from him did he regain some of his consciousness back

he saw the tears forming in your eyes and he tried to run after you, but even in your own drunken state, you were faster than him, he couldn't catch up to you

the next day, he woke up again with a severe headache but still perfect memory from the events of that night

he immediately set out to look for you, finding you rather quickly

you had dark circles under your eyes and they were red and swollen from all the crying

he apologized to you over and over, telling you what had happened. He hated himself for letting this happen to him, yet he was still more worried over you

it is up to you if you want to forgive him or not, he will accept whatever decision you make. Just know that he is so, so sorry and if you choose to give him a second chance, he will make sure that nothing like that will ever happen again..

Gorou

oh, poor little Gorou..

he is soo easy to manipulate.. people can tell him everything they want, and he is prone to believe them until proven wrong

he loves you dearly, with all his heart, but he often doubts himself, fearing that he's not good enough for you

so, when someone else comes along, planting even the faintest bit of doubt in his mind about your relationship, he grows restless and insecure

you, having already a strained relationship with your family, especially with your younger sister, spent most of your free time with Gorou, so normally, there wouldn't be anything for him to worry about, right?

Well, the thing is.. your sister has always had a thing for Gorou, even before you two got together. She neve told you about it, but ever since you made the relationship official, she hated you for it

she wanted Gorou all to herself, yet you were standing in the way of that goal. She had to get rid of you somehow..

the first few months of the relationship went by great, you were both so in love with each other

yet, after that, your sister started to visit Gorou whenever you weren't around him. You could be at work or out doing something.. she would be there visiting him, leaving again before you returned again

at first, it was just normal visits. She would simply talk to Gorou, asking him how his day went, getting to know him better. Though she asked to keep this meet-ups a secret from you, since she claimed she wanted to reconnect with you on your terms alone

Gorou, being non the wiser, agreed to that

this went on for a while until she started to plant seeds of doubt in his mind. Spreading rumors to him how you were meeting up with some other guy, how the meet-ups became more frequent, that you were probably cheating on him, and so on

Gorou didn't want to believe her, choosing to trust you. But, being so gullible, he started to see things that weren't actually there. He imagined you coming home later than usual, thinking you were avoiding his gaze

he didn't want to admit it, but with every further visit from your sister, he believed her more and more, now doubting everything about your relationship with him. Did you ever even love him?

the final part of her plan came, when she convinced him to sleep with her to "get you back for cheating on him first"

it felt wrong to him, but he still went along with the idea. At some point, he did get into it, not noticing how you came back earlier than usual, flowers in your hand..

those flowers immediately dropped to the ground as you realized what you just walked in on..

and in that moment did he remember.. today was your anniversary.. 6 months togehter...

he immediately ripped himself off your sister, calling out your name, but you were already out the door. He quickly threw some clothes over himself to run after you, but your sister caught his wrist, begging him to stay

he paid her no mind and ran after you, yet he wasn't able to find you, no matter where or how hard he looked..

defeated, he returned to his place, curling in on himself.. tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow he's gonna find you and talk to you..

however, the next day, he found out that you had left Watatsumi Island.. you went and found Kazuha, leaving Inazuma with him on the Alchor..

you were out of his reach, forever now, and it was all his fault.. he had no one else to blame but himself for his stupid actions.. he lost the best thing that ever came into his life, and he would never get you back...

[taintandviolent]

So, I saw that you write Gambit, and I fell in LOVE with your style and portrayal. I also saw your smut list? Could I maybe request Gambit with a female S/O? I can't decide between 100, 117, 127, 144. So uh.... You pick? I'm honestly a sucker for first times/possessive/protective/ would burn the world down to protect troupes. If it's too much though, feel free to ignore me. I don't mean to bother you about my hyper fixation crush xD

warnings: smut (female receiving), fingering, remy being selfless and concerned with your pleasure only, uhhhhh I think that's it. I'm sorry my smut drabbles have been kinda mild lately, I haven't got the braincell during the work week lmao.

The sound of the world outside your window fades away as he touches you. Your back arches against the mattress, pushing your chest up into the air and as it does, Remy’s hands trail over your ample cleavage, admiring it as his fingertips ghost over the flesh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. 

Every ragged breath has your tits bouncing, jiggling underneath his touch, and Remy gobbles up the visual like it’s dinner. Everything he does seems to elicit lewd reactions from your body, actually – not that you’re complaining. At all. In fact, you’re just about blissed out with the way he’s touching you. A shiver erupts down your spine, shaking your entire body. He smiles a half-smile as he watches your reactions.

He has you whining at the attentive way his hands move over your body, tracing every inch of it like he’s trying to remember it in case he never gets to touch it again. One hand traces the curve of your stomach, while the other is slotted between your legs, fingering you masterfully. You swallow, laboriously lifting your head to look down at his hands. He’s been going at you for God knows how long, you’ve lost track. You can feel the outline of his erection on your leg, yet he oddly hasn’t insisted upon anything. 

“You feel so good… but…”  He looks at you with concern in his eyes, as if he’s suddenly realized that you’re unhappy. Remy’s fingers slow their pace, ready for whatever comes next. He’d do anything to please you, even if that meant stopping. 

“B-But what about you?” you continue, worried.

Relieved, he chuckles low, and slides his finger down to your entrance, ready to resume. “We can worry about Remy later. It’s alla’ ‘bout you right now.”

His selfless response floors you… or maybe it’s the way that his middle finger breaches your dripping slit, and crooks up inside to find your G-spot with ease, while the wide pad of thumb continues swiping at your clit. Maybe it’s both. You’re going with both. 

You’re used to being pleasured. You’ve felt all this before – well, not this, specifically, because no man has ever pleasured you the way that Remy Lebeau is pleasuring you currently. From the way his finger encircles your clit, applying just enough pressure to drive you crazy, but not enough to make you orgasm yet to the way that he leans down every so often, kissing along your collarbone.

“Remy,” you plead. “I want you to feel good, too…” 

“Oh, don’t you worry ‘bout ‘dat, chere… I feel just fine right now.”

Serving as punctuation, Remy thrusts his hips into the meat of your thigh, bumping his swollen, aching cock against your leg. You can feel the heat of it through your pants, and long to touch it, to stroke it, to taste it… but he has you whipped underneath his grasp, he’s in control and you’re certainly not about to test his strength.

[sizzlingchaosprince]

The Toy's favorite Child

Notes: This is the first time I'm doing such thing so I'm really nervous XD I didn't know what to put into the background of the drawing so I didn't put any. Maybe I'll edit it soon. Do forgive me for my shading, I'm still learning(trying to)

Synopsis: After starting to live in PlayCare, one creature you became friends with grew a liking to you...

Warning: PLATONIC, headcanon + little story, reader is 12-14 years old, reader is a chill teenager

It's been a year since you got into the PlayCare, passing through the security with laid-back face and leaving the staff confused. They kept you because you seemed useful for them...

You were quite chilly and relaxed, reserved and smart. Also, because of your personality you were almost the same with Cat Nap from cartoons. Maybe that's why you became quick friends with Smiling Critters. With most of them, at least...

The big purple cat was almost never appearing like others from his party. And this interested you.

After a week or so you finally met him face-to-face. You were as calm as always, but your heart was pounding from excitement. You said 'hi' for politeness and introduced yourself, waiting for him to do the same.

Guess what? His face didn't even shift. He continued staring at you with his dead eyes.

After understanding that you won't get an answer from him, you tried to talk about something else.

But he disappeared in blink of an eye.

You were quite disappointed, but you still had the same urge to get to know the living toy better. You knew it'll be a long while...

It was worth 3 months to make him sit and listen to your rambling for 10 minutes. It was worth more months to make him spend at least an hour with you. It took even longer for him to let you stay near him and sleep, leaning onto the puppet. But it was worth the pleasure you get from his warmth and company.

Even though you never heard him talk, it's enough for you to be near him. It's good to talk about any nonsense which randomly comes to your mind and have a listener who won't judge you. It's also good to take a great nap in his fur or stay in complete silence, thinking of your own thing.

The staff, of course, sooner found out the relationship between you and the purple cat puppet.

They tried to use you to their own benefits and new information, but instead you composed some lies which sounded like truth to tell them(Cat Nap helped you a little sometimes, nodding or shaking his head if the lie sounds truthful or not).

When the scientists were starting thinking about taking you for the test next, Cat Nap started to monitor you to make sure you won't end up in the Game Station.

It definitely wasn't him who knocked out the staff members right behind your back. It definitely wasn't him who let out some scratching noises in Home-Sweet-Home. Also, of course, it definitely wasn't his sharp gaze you felt on your gut 24/7.

You liked to use the hair brush on the purple furball. It doesn't move away so you can say that he's at least neutral to your activity(we don't talk about his really quiet purring).

[Now. The small story]

It was a normal day like any other one. More specifically, night. However, this week was quiet strange: the staff members of Playtime Co. except the workers from the PlayCare appeared more often in front of you. When they started talking about 'test', they randomly passed out because of the red smoke. You knew it was one of the Smiling Critters you were hanging out with for a while, but you didn't know why was he doing it.

You were currently sitting with your back leaning against the living cat plush, brushing your companion's tail you gently patted with your free second hand. The only thing that bothered you in that peaceful time was the fact that the purple cat wasn't purring at all. It was staring at you with its dark eyes. Sooner after, you finally asked him about this:

— Is something wrong, Cat Nap?

It didn't answer. Instead, the living toy just stared at you with expressionless eyes, not moving an inch. You weren't intimidated by the stare at all, so you just continued brushing the long tail. You weren't hoping for an answer anyway, but still a small, almost impossible dream was remaining in your heart.

The silence was broken by the raspy, low voice coming out from Cat Nap's voice box.

— The Prototype... Will Save Us.

You flinched.

Wow...

This is the first time he ever said something to you. It was surely a progress for your friendship.

You stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before shifting your attention back to the tail. You shrugged with your shoulders, your face had a relaxed smile.

— I don't know who the Prototype is, but if they helped you somehow, I think they're my saviour too. You're like a home to me.. I can't even imagine what would it be like living without you here!

You chuckled, patting the fluffy tail while Cat Nap looked at you with the same stare. However, something in his eyes changed... Maybe his gaze gained a little more... softness?

He stared at you until you fell asleep on him again. A few minutes of him sinking into his thoughts have passed, the toy putted his head on his paws, wrapping his tail around you like a blanket and soon enough closing his eyes. You would call it the same night-time scenario with Cat Nap in the next morning, because you didn't know that he was comfortably purring, nuzzling himself into your warmth last night...

Notes: OH MY GOD I DID IT :D I'll maybe do part 2, but without promises

Anyways, thank you for wasting your time reading my first-ever-made English fanfic. Do write me some comments about my errors if you find any, I will appreciate it since it'll improve my writing skills.

Have a nice day/evening/night!😘

[ijwrsmff]

Hey, i hope ur having a good dayy...heard yu wanted some yandere arcane asks...how about vi(romantic) with a naïve piltover darling (generally soft and clumsy as well) fem reader please!!💖💕

Thank you so much that's so sweet!!! I'm getting to requests really late, but I'm doing my best XD thank you for requesting and your patience! Even though it's really late, I hope you enjoy ^^

Soooo glad the second season is coming out soon, I crave it so bad XD

Words: 1,642

Vi was in Piltover, doing what she joked was a small heist. It was just her this time, Vander having cracked down on them all not returning to top side in fear of their safety. She made sure Powder was safe first, and left her in the boy’s care. She had received word there was an event going on, a series of stalls and shops along the road. It was the perfect opportunity to blend in and steal from all the rich assholes who could buy out the whole street if they wanted to. 

…That was her plan anyway. 

It started off simple enough, showing up right in the middle of the day when it was the most busy. She paid close attention to the people who looked like they had more money than others…and with how idiotic people could be, it wasn’t hard to tell who could afford the most. Starting off, she took small items they had purchased that she thought could go for more underground. She didn’t expect to be bumped into as a girl fell to the ground. 

As it were, you only wanted to go to see what the shops had to offer. You weren’t paying much attention though, and bumped into something…or someone. Both you and the person fell to the ground, and you looked up at her from the ground as you whined and rubbed the spot on your leg you just knew would be bruised later. She was laying next to you, and you caught sight of her snarl. You jumped up looking her over. 

“Crud! Are you okay? I’m so so sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you! Did I damage anything you’d bought? I can’t believe I did that again! Gah!” You whined and looked at her as if seeking forgiveness. She looked baffled, and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “I can pay for anything I broke! Here, let me buy you something, too!” You took her hand, and she accepted it. You couldn’t tell what expression was on her face, but you were terrified you’d made a bad impression on this woman. 

“Uh…you don’t have to. I have what I need.” Vi spoke, and she seemed guarded. It was almost as if she thought you were tricking her, not believing you were really being this nice to a stranger. “You hurt, cupcake?” She said, seemingly coming to a conclusion in her mind. She brushed off your shoulders, touch lingering only briefly. Her touch was rough, but it didn’t seem to phase you. 

“I’m not hurt! Not any more hurt than I usually am when I fall anyway…” You mumbled the last bit, and shook your head. “And it’s okay! I insist, it’s the least I could do!” Your smile was wide and bright, and somehow contagious. As soon as you locked eyes with her, she smiled back at you, though her smile was much more akin to a smirk. 

She leaned forward so your faces were near each other, and her eyes glazed over yours and she continued to smirk as she pulled back. “If you really insist, I have something in mind.” Her original mission had subsided in her mind, and it seemed she had a new plan she wanted to see through. She was still being cautious, but she would play along for now. This could prove to be entertaining, afterall. 

You yapped away, Vi barely getting any words in since giving you her name. She didn’t seem to mind though, and listened closely to everything you had to say. It didn’t take long to learn all about you, considering the fact that you told her basically all the important information. It was fun! You got to tell her all about your job, your close group of friends, and your favorite hobbies and pastimes. Vi even asked questions to learn more, despite you not picking up on her prodding more into your personal life. 

She had tried to justify it as gathering intel for her next trip with Powder and the boys, but she was growing more intrigued by the second. Though as you reached the stall she had escorted you to, you looked at her. “Oh! A flower stall! Are you getting flowers for someone? That’s so thoughtful!” You giggled, and looked at the wide array of different flowers local to your home and even exported from further off. 

Vi smirked, before putting on a small act. She sighed deeply, and looked deep in thought. “I’d love to get her flowers, but I’m not sure what kind she likes. There’s too many to choose from, it’s overwhelming…what kind do you like?” She looked over to you, eyes full of mischief. She only smiled wider when it seemed like you didn’t gather the implications. 

“I think these one’s here are the prettiest, and the bouquet has a good variety of flowers! So no matter the room, you can probably make the flowers suit it perfectly!” You thought carefully about your answer, wanting to make sure she could get the best possible ones for the girl she wanted to get them for. It was no trouble, you did bump into her, so it only seemed fitting to help out however you could. 

“I see…” She said, and picked up the bouquet you chose. “I hope she’ll like these.” As she said it in a thoughtful but playful tone, before handing them to you. “So, do you like them?” Her hand was outstretched, and you looked at the flowers in confusion. She could practically see the gears turning in your head, and tried to wait to see if you’d understand. 

“THEY’RE FOR ME?!” You said, way louder than you meant to. It brought a light blush to your cheeks and you pouted at her. “But I’m the one that bumped into you! I should be getting you a gift!” You looked around the booth, and quickly picked up a bouquet of flowers you thought would suit her. Paying quickly, you copied her motion of giving her the flowers. 

“These are for you then! They have colors that remind me of you and your hair, so I guess it’s…a trade?” You thought carefully, trying to decide if you’d be satisfied with a trade rather than providing something to her from your stumble into her. The flowers weren’t very expensive, so it didn’t really seem fair. 

“How sweet of you…” Vi said, a glimmer of something in her eyes that you couldn’t place. “I’ll happily accept these flowers from you, cupcake.” She gave a wink, but by now she knew you wouldn’t understand the undertones of her words and meaning. She’d have to be more direct to get through to you. Stepping up her game seemed in order, but not just yet. 

“Let me at least buy you something else!” You pleaded, wide eyes as you looked around the stalls to find something else you could give her for her troubles. But Vi looked to the sky, cursing under her breath. At the noise, you tilted your head and asked, “Is something wrong?” You sounded worried, and it only made her heart swell further. 

“My sister is waiting for me at home, I have to go.” She seemed reluctant to say it, but started walking away with a glance to you over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll meet again.” To you, the words were reassuring…whereas most people would have seen it as ominous. You barely knew her, but you welcomed her regardless. There’s no way in hell this would be the last time she saw you. 

“But! I have to buy you something else!” You called, jogging the few steps to catch up with her. She had the flowers you had bought her in her arms, and the other items she’d “bought” within her carry pack. She stopped as you approached, you putting a hand on her shoulder. 

She hummed, turning to look fully at you before smirking with a dark glint in her eyes. “Then…” She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before playfully breathing into your ear, “We’ll make it a date. Next time, you can take me out on the condition I get to take you out after.” She pulled back, and could have burst out laughing from the shocked look on your face as you blushed. 

It only made you smile wide, “Okay! It’s a promise then! Do I get to pick what we do for our date?” You hopped once in place and waited eagerly for her response.

“Of course, cupcake. Anything you wanna do.” With her final words, she turned, as you lost her in the crowd of people. It only then occurred to you that she had no way of knowing where you lived. What if she got lost and never saw you again? Or even worse, what if you never saw her again? It had crushed your spirit a little, and your eyes cast down as you pouted, walking back to your house. 

Though from the shadows, Vi loomed. She watched you walk all the way home, making note of any recognizable locations and landmarks so she would remember exactly how to get to you. You were a new form of intoxication she’d never experienced. You were pure, innocent. You didn’t pick up on her flirting until she made sure you did, and you never once questioned her attire or why you’d never seen her before. It made her let out a chuckle, as she watched you, almost hungrily. 

You’d see her again, sooner than you’d think…and she’d make sure you could never forget her. She knew it was just a matter of time before she corrupted that innocence of yours, making you hers in any way she wanted…any way she desired. 

You should have run when you had the chance, cupcake. 

[cutiecusp]

Finally.

BF! Graves x reader.

Now I know, Graves isn't our fave CoD operator, in fact every time I play as him I get hell in the lobbies still xD but I wanted to explore a best mate drabble I've been thinking of. We all know him as cocky, arrogant... and what if he is, but not to us? And we ask him for help with a problem... warning, this is a LONG one!

(tw. Virginity loss, best friend, hidden feelings, revealed feelings, kissing,teeny blood mention, smut, PinV. So MDNI!!)

"You want me to what?" Came the loud reply from your best friend.

Flinching at the volume, you press a finger to your lips, hoping no one else heard him.

"You know what I'm asking. You've probably done it a hundred times over." You hiss, eyes darting around the canteen.

"Darlin' you know I love you. We've been friends forever, but this, this I can't help you with, I'm sorry." Phillip backs off in his chair, his arms raised in mock surrender, his jaw tightly wound, as if he was going to say something further, but held himself back.

Your cheeks redden. You knew asking was probably the biggest risk in your friendship, but you trusted no one else, and you harboured feelings for Phillip ever since you both enlisted years ago, but always dampened it down due to his cocky demeanor.

"It's just a few minutes of your time, no feelings involved..." You bargain, leaning into the table.

"A few- a few minutes?" He splutters, gaining attention from the other table. He leans into your space, watching the blush flush from your cheeks.

"Sweet thing, the guy who takes your gift should be someone special. Someone you trust to make you feel good. Not a few stolen minutes on base. What's brought this on?"

"I think I'm defective." You admit softly.

"Defective how?" He presses, scooting in his chair, closing the gap between you two.

"No one else I know is a virgin at our age." You state, your cheeks stained pink.

"You go around talking about it with everyone?" He teases, hoping to break the mood.

"This isn't funny, Phillip. Why does no one want me?" You say, near tears.

What you fail to notice is that from the minute you both enlisted together, you've always been Graves' girl. He practically growls at any suitor interested in you, and the grapevine is adamant that you two are a thing. He's just too chicken to act on it.

"You'll find someone, doll." He says easily, like he's not worried about your status.

"Maybe I'll ask Ghost, he seems nice enough." You say, sliding your tray across the table, and standing up, dismissing the conversation.

"I'll catch you later." You call out as you follow Ghost into the corridor. You fail to see a pair of jealous eyes trailing your body as you leave.

A few hours go by, and curfew is approaching. You change into your pyjamas and grab your book, settling in for the night when you hear a brisk knock in the door.

Pulling it open, you find Graves, all dishevelled and mad.

"Tell me you didn't do it, doll." You smell a hint of bourbon on his breath, as he steps into your room.

You step back, shaking your head.

"D-do what?" You ask, but you already know the answer.

"Tell me you didn't give Ghost your body, baby. Tell. Me." He commands, eyes glossy with dutch courage.

"No, I didn't." You admit. You knew he wasn't the one when he turned you down gently and pointed out that someone else may want you and your gift. The very someone barging into your room.

You scoffed at Ghost, but it turns out his premonition was right.

"I.. i couldnt." You admit. Your eyes searching his for the unspoken question you were asking.

He steps into your space, his body close enough to yours that you could smell his cologne you brought him for Christmas. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and back up to his eyes.

Involuntarily, your tongue darts out to wet your lip, soliciting a deep groan from Graves.

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close to him, your bodies pressed against each other.

"You know, for the longest time, doll..." He pauses, his fingers tracing patterns over your hips.

"For the longest time. I've never felt like I deserved you. I've watched you from afar take on challenges even I've flinched at. You've taken every deployment, successful in most. You are faster, stronger and far more deadly than most of the team. You are smart, funny, kind.. Your laugh makes me laugh, your heart is.. your heart is generous, and I'm glad to call you a friend."

He pauses, and cups your chin with one hand, while brushing the hair out of your face with rhe other.

"But. I'd be lying if I said that's all I want to be. Your eyes are like pools, that I could stare into for hours, your body fits into my hands perfectly... I just want to dip my feet in and taste you, to see if you taste of heaven."

"I should be the one honoured to take your gift. To pleasure you until you see stars, to give you my body as much as you give me yours. I want to own every godamn moan that comes out of that mouth. I want you." He concludes, his breath ragged in his chest.

"Please." He asks. And one word is all it takes for you to melt in his arms as he swipes his lips over yours gently, his tongue opening your mouth further.

You moan in the back of your throat as he leads you to the bed, barely stopping kissing to lay down on the sheets.

"Tell me you want this, and I'll give you all you want." Phillip whispers.

You nod, and you see him shake his head.

"Words, baby. Tell me." He insists.

"I want this, Phillip, probably have for the longest time. I want you." You admit.

Pulling back, so his body is half over you, he pulls his t shirt over his head, and you observe his body with a smile. Your fingers trace over his shoulders, down his chest and to his waistband.

"Not yet, darlin'" He admonishes gently, undoing the buttons to the top of your pyjamas, exposing the soft skin bare underneath.

He lets out a breath, his eyes darkened with desire.

"Fuck, baby. You are so beautiful." He slides the fabric off your shoulders, the cool air pebbling your nipples, as you take a shuddering breath.

"It's okay, I got you." He says, bending down to place kisses along your soft skin, before taking a nipple into his mouth, and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud, his hand playing similarly with its pair.

With the other hand, he brings his fingers up and holds your hand flush to your head, effectively trapping you against him.

A whimper tears from your throat as you feel warmth lick your lower belly, combined with the weight of him on you, and the pleasure he was pulling from you, you thought you could burst.

"Phillip, please." You beg, although you aren't sure what you want entirely.

He chuckles against your body, his hand moving from your breast to your pyjama shorts.

"Please, what, darlin'" He asks gruffly, his fingers playing with your waistband.

"I need.. I need more." You admit, eyes wide with lust.

You see Phillip pull back on his heels, and whimper at the loss of contact. He smirks, his lip lifting at the side.

"God, darlin' you look amazing right now." He says softly, almost fully devoted.

He looks at you for permission before he wriggles your shorts down your legs, the moisture between your legs sticking to the soft fabric.

"Fuck, baby. No underwear?" He asks, surprise evident in his tone.

You shake your head shyly as he opens your legs, baring yourself to him.

"Oh, she's gorgeous." He whispers, more to himself than anything but you blush regardless.

"And so wet for me, doll." His voice thick with need, his eyes darker than coal.

You watch as he swipes his fingers through your folds firmly, collecting your nectar on his fingertips. He brings it to his mouth and sucks them clean.

You hold your breath as he closes his eyes before noticing the bulge in his jeans. You smirk a little, satisfied you weren't the only one affected.

He leans down, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he licks a heavy stripe from your clit down, pulling a delicious sound out from your lips. He suckles on your sensitive flesh until you pull his hair, guiding him to where you want him. His tongue flat, he takes his time licking building you up to your first orgasm.

It hits you out of nowhere, your eyes tightly shut, your toes curled as wave after wave hits you, you try to talk, but no sound comes out of your mouth, just a flash of bright light behind your eyes.

Phillip straightens up, and kisses you, combining your taste in your lips as you return the kiss deeply.

"You OK, darlin'" He asks, a little cockily.

"You look proud of yourself." You retort.

"I just got the prettiest girl in the world to come on my face, I'd say I'm pretty proud of myself." He replies easily.

You choke on a breath you had been holding.

"Phillip!" You chastise, mock scandalised

He grins, and heads back down between your legs.

"Phillip, I can't." You protest, your thighs a little sore.

"Gotta prep you, baby. Don't wanna hurt you." He explains, kissing your inner thighs before returning to your sensitive folds. His tongue painting masterpieces over the skin.

You gasp as you feel his finger slowly work his way inside you, the feeling intrusive, but not painful.

"There you go baby, think you could take more for me?" He asks between licks.

You nod, and you shudder as you feel a second finger match the first, but this time pressing down on a sensitive spot.

"God, Phillip.. please!" You pant as he strokes the spot over and over, that familiar warmth in your lower belly as you tighten around his fingers.

"Come for me darlin', come on my fingers." Phllip insists, picking up the pace to match your hips bucking against his fingers.

You squeal as you come, your pussy clenching around his fingers, eyes rolled in the back of your head.

"Fuck." You hear him whisper, opening your eyes, you lock your gaze with his, and find nothing but admiration and pride.

"You looked so sexy, coming on my fingers like that darlin'" He chuckles.

"Almost came in my jeans."

You look down and you could see a dark patch on his jeans, he catches you looking and raises an eyebrow.

"Off. Now." You command, your hands going to his belt.

He shucks off the denim and fabric underneath, leaving him naked in front of you.

"Do you want me to?" You swallow, unable to look away.

Phillip shakes his head.

"Won't last long if you do, darlin' and I'd rather come in that pretty cunt of yours. I assume you are on the pill?"

You nod and wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him to you, your lips pressed against his as he leads you both back down on the bed.

Your legs spread open as he settles between them, his soft gaze on yours.

"You ready, doll? We can always stop here."

You throw him a look, and rock your hips against his.

"Not a fucking chance." You say firmly.

He chuckles as he slides home, his length stretching you out deliciously. You gasp, and squeeze your eyes shut, and he pauses.

"You okay, baby?" He asks, concern written on his features.

"I'm good, just... adjusting." You admit, opening your eyes.

He slowly rocks his hips against yours, and any discomfort melts away as the pleasure takes over you both. You trail your hands over his shoulders and chest, feeling his skin under your touch.

"Phillip." You whisper, afraid to break the moment.

He looks down at you, your body underneath his.

"Yeah, darlin'?"

"I'm not gonna break, go faster." You urge, wrapping your ankles around his lower back.

He picks up the pace, leaning back a little, knelt at your hips as he watches where you two meet. He watches the creamy ring around the bottom of his cock, tinged with a little pink.

You are his is all Phillip can think of as he rocks against you, your body fitting against his perfectly. You pull his closer for another kiss, changing the position of your hips, taking him deeper.

You both groan at the sensation, the feeling of fullness for yourself, and the tight vice of your pussy clamping down on his cock as he guides you to another orgasm.

He brushes your hair away from your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, and glossy eyes.

"You feel so good, baby." He admits softly, his hips snapping against yours as he feels you building up to a third orgasm. His fingers softly pinching your nipples, sending a shock wave of pleasure down your spine.

"You gonna come for me, come on this cock?" He asks, smiling at the way you nod.

"Words, doll." He reminds you.

"Fuck, yes, Phillip, I'm gonna come.." You pant, your hips matching his pace as you chase your high.

You feel like you are floating as another orgasm rips through you, you didn't care how loud you were being as pleasure burst through your body.

Phillip snaps his hips to yours, following closely, his spend deep inside you. He pulls you into his body, slowly pulling himself out as he wraps his arms around you.

Sweaty and satisfied, you look up at Phillip, who places a kiss on your forehead.

"I'll run you a bath, thank fuck we have the bigger barracks." He laughs. He pulls himself from you, as your phone chimes.

'Fucking finally. Can you hear you both down the hall.' 👻

You blush and hand your phone to Phillip, who laughs.

"He's right, darlin'... fucking finally.."

...................................

A/N this turned out to be the longest drabble ever. I know some of you are here due to the Matchmaker series, which will be resumed ASAP, but I hope this appeases the writers block Gods! I appreciate everyone's likes, comments, asks, reblogs, it all means so much. ♥️

@xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @livingoutsidethetardis @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @azxulaa @yesornowaitidontknow @enjisbf @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @evie-119