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kechiwrites · 2 years ago

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what’s in a name?

simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader

synopsis: ‘It’s not his fault.’ He reasons. ‘It’s not his fault you’re a brat.’

wc: 1.1k

cw: fem!reader, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, teasing, dirty talk, light brat taming, spanking, pet names (princess, darling), no use of y/n ever.

an: yes, i know i should be posting kinktober IN NOVEMBER, but my god does this man make me wanna [redacted] his [data expunged]. enjoy!

He’s your most stubborn patient, in fact, his entire squad is a pain in your ass, but Ghost takes the cake. Always grunting and scoffing as you administer care, as if this is all a frivolity and not you saving him from gangrene or tetanus or whatever other peril has found its way into his blood that week. And that’s if he even deigns to be seen to at all.

It’s another one of those days, marshalled out of your bed at the crack of dawn because there are wounds to dress and blood to take. It makes you irritable, just short of bitchy really, and you’ll be damned if you have to work this early in the morning for a couple of jarheads who can barely string together decent conversation.

Ghost is the first person you see. Naturally. And it’s much of the same. Groans and impatient huffs while you snip gauze and sanitize abrasions. It’s rapidly turning you from irate to downright incensed.

“What’s your name anyway?” You murmur, while you fold up his shirt sleeve, baring a muscled, veiny forearm, covered in ink and dried blood, courtesy of a deep gash that’d only ceased bleeding thanks to a field tourniquet applied in the nick of time.

“No.” He mutters. As if that’s an answer. You scoff, turning in your swivel chair to grab more cotton wool from your desk. When you return he has you pinned with what little of his face you can see, dark, long lashed eyes peering out from the mask and face paint. As though he can see through you.

"You can tell me your actual name, or you can bleed out." It’s unnecessary, really. Probably even dangerous to ask, but it’s always bothered you that his medical record has those black marks where a Christian name should be. And you’re nosy. Nosy enough to pry it out of the soldier himself.

You stare at each other, neither daring to back down. Your threat is horse shit and you both know it, you're obligated to give the best care possible. He could wait you out. If he wanted to.

Apparently, he doesn’t want to.

"Simon."

You give him a smile in return, cartoonishly big and saccharine sweet. You begin cleaning the wound, humming happily with yourself. Satisfied.

For the next two months, it's relentless. Everytime he sees you, it's;

"And do you know your blood type, Simon?"

"It's lovely to see you again Simon."

"There are easier ways to stop bleeding, Simon."

It irks him, makes his skin feel like it's not sitting right. Makes him feel like his teeth are stopping his tongue from laying in his mouth comfortably. Makes his blood hum in his veins.

Eventually it's too much.

"Would you come off it?" He asks, voice rougher than he means it to be, but maybe that's what you need to end this little joke of yours.

You keep reading the charts on the clipboard in your hand, as if he hasn't spoken at all.

"Come off what, Simon?" You purse your lips at whatever you're reading, but he suspects you’re trying not to laugh.

"Saying my name like that." He flexes open the fingers of one hand, keeping the other balled in a fist on his thigh.

"Like what?" You finally look at him, head tilted to the side, the picture of innocence.

What a lark.

"Like you want something from me." He stands, looming above you, jostling himself into your personal space.

"It's your name." Now you are smiling, a confident, amused thing that transforms the look of your face, makes him forget the bags under your eyes and the familiar bone-tiredness of his body when it’s been pushed too far.

And these days, it’s always too far.

“We have code names for a reason, darling.”

“Darling? I was beginning to think my name was ‘Ugh’.” You drop the timbre of your voice to mimic him, though he doesn’t look very flattered by the imitation. At least, that’s what you get from the very little of his face you can see.

“It’s Ghost from now on.” He ignores you. It’s necessary, really. To block out the things you say. The things you do. The songs you hum cheerfully when you do inventory, the way your medical uniform stretches over the curve of your ass when you need something from the bottom cabinet.

“Sure, Simon. Whatever you say.”

‘It’s not his fault.’ He reasons. ‘It’s not his fault you’re a brat.’

It’s not his fault when he pushes you over to the examination bed. It’s not his fault when he fists his hands in the waistband of your scrub bottoms and yanks them down, it’s not his fault you’re wearing a thong, for christ’s sake. It’s not his fault that you giggle and sigh and beg so goddamn pretty.

It’s certainly not his fault that your cunt feels like a fucking dream.

He takes you like you deserve for all the teasing, brings the weight of his hand down on your ass when you moan something that sounds suspiciously like “About time.” Ghost gropes at your tits while he has you bent in half, in for a penny, as they say. His fingers pull and flick at your nipples, and you wish he’d put his mouth on you, fucking anywhere, and you don’t care what it does, bite, suck, kiss, what-fucking-ever. When you say as much in between the gasps he fucks out of you, he responds immediately, voice subdued under his mask.

“Maybe next time.”

Your eyes nearly roll out of your head at the idea of next time.

When you come it feels like your pussy is buzzing, stretched over the length of his dick and he tunnels into you, fucking into you deep before he grinds the head of cock into you, scrambling any thought you could’ve had.

It’s a battle for him to not come inside you, to resist covering the sweet, soft walls of your cunt in his seed, but he prides himself on what little control he has left, and pulls out, doing you a favour by letting his come shoot onto the floor rather than stain the baby blue fabric of your scrubs.

"Now, I think we can both agree to you saving that name for when you want me to spread you open, yes?" His voice is gruffer somehow, covering your overheated skin in the rasp and cadence of it.

"Fuck off." You moan miserably in response, your forehead sticking to the paper covering the examination bed below you.

"I want an affirmative, princess."

"Yes." You hiss from between your teeth, your head still spinning from your orgasm. “Yes, Ghost, I agree.”

“That’s better. Don’t worry about getting up.” He pats your exposed lower back, and when his hand withdraws you can hear him zip his fatigues back up. “I’ll see myself out.”

endotes: hehe...i love him. my mask kink is in full effect y’all. support content creators + city girls, reblog. find part 2 here.

#ghost x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #ghost x black reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut #kechiwrites #cod mw2 smut #cod fic

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years ago

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call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter four

summary: the mission is over but the tension between hangman and phoenix has just reached its boiling point.

warnings: smut (18+ only chapter, mdni), fluff, some angst, enemies to lovers, swearing, mentions of death, military & aircraft carrier inaccuracies, second person pov

wc: 8.4k

listen to: the playlist

a/n: after very rooster x whiskey-focused chapter, i present to you all my hannix obsession. i clearly have never been on a naval aircraft carrier but i did watch some videos and my god why are my tax payer dollars not going to making those way more comfortable to live on jfc?! many apologies if you have been inside a naval aircraft carrier and this is not accurate / you'd never [redacted] on one bc gross. i just needed to give #hannix the scene they deserved ok!?

chapter three | masterlist | chapter five

When the Dagger Squad learns that the mission has been moved up, you’re almost glad that you didn’t take it any further with Rooster. No one has successfully flown the low range course yet, and everyone seems to be in the zone – highly focused, a little snappy – that by the time you board, it’s a whole lot quieter on the carrier. While you’re disappointed not to be selected to fly this one, you think you may be more overwhelmed with anxiety about having to wait on deck, completely out of control.

“Shit,” you’d muttered to yourself as soon as you realized what was missing. You’d forgotten your lucky charm, which is how you ended up below deck ten minutes before you had to report on deck.

You wouldn’t call yourself superstitious, that is, until you’re hurrying back down to the sleeping quarters to grab your pin. It’s just a small pin, memorabilia from your father’s first record store, that you bring on every single deployment. You’d forgotten it earlier, most likely because you hadn’t been selected to fly, but figured it wasn’t worth taking a chance with.

Not with Nat out there.

Not with Rooster out there.

You grab your pin from where it’s attached to one of the handles of your duffle bag, pinning it to the inside of the sleeve of your flight suit, before hurrying out of the bunk room. As you close the door behind you, you see the tall brunette aviator waiting for you outside.

Damn, he looks good in his flight suit.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask him, a panic swelling in your chest. “Shouldn’t you be on deck? We only have a couple minutes before we have to report.”

“I saw you slip out,” he admits.

“Well, I don’t want to make you late!” you hurry him, gesturing towards the set of stairs that you both need to get your asses up ASAP. Only, he doesn’t move, placing both hands on your shoulders to stop you. You can see fear and a quiet determination in his eyes – it’s a look you recognize – look you’ve had yourself many times.

“I wanted a moment with you before we-, before I left,” Bradley explains, more candidly this time.

“I just forgot something down here is all,” you tell him, shifting nervously. “But um. I’m glad you did – wanted to see me.”

Before you know it, Rooster’s pulling you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours again. If you thought he’d kissed you like it was the last night on earth back in Fightertown, this sure as hell topped it. But you don’t want to do this – don’t want to act like this is some kind of goodbye – because he’s coming back.

He has to.

You indulge him a little longer before reluctantly pulling away from the kiss, your eyes glossy, as you stare up at the man you’ve found yourself infatuated with.

“Give em hell, Bradshaw. And then get your ass back here,” you whisper, smiling up at him.

He nods, as if he’s making you a promise.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Listening to the progress of the mission over the radio has you on the edge of your seat. You know Nat’s a tough cookie, a ruthless soldier, and an exceptional pilot, but you worry anyways, your heart pounding in your chest as you listen to the updates coming in from the active pilots over the radio.

This mission entertains the highest of highs from the first, “Bullseye! Bullseye! Bullseye!” to the lowest of lows. It’s the multiple asks, commands for contact that are met with silence that stop your heart.

“Dagger Two, do you copy?”

And when you’re all met with silence over the radios, you know it’s not looking good.

“Whiskey…” Halo trails off as the silence rings throughout your two-seater.

“I just-,” you pant, your breathing becoming heavier. Your super hornet suddenly feels incredibly small as you grow increasingly claustrophobic – something you rarely feel inside of your F/A-18.

“I just need some air. I-, I’ve got to get out of here for a second.”

You’re tearing your way outside of your aircraft to breathe for a second. You can hear the comms confirming that Payback, Fanboy, Phoenix, and Bob are all on their way back along with the request from Hangman for permission to fly Dagger Spare. But the sounds slowly begin fading away, and it feels like you’re going to throw up, your heart pounding in your chest. You don’t know how long it’s been, how long you’re lost in your head before Halo’s pulling you back into the aircraft.

“Whiskey!” she calls to you, giving your hand a big squeeze. “Whiskey! Listen!”

Sounds begin coming back to you and all you can hear over the radio are the voices of Hondo and Cyclone calling after Hangman. But he’s already taken off, disobeyed direct orders to stand down, flying fast like someone’s life depends on it.

And they do.

“Permission to strike, sir,” is the last thing you hear over the radio before the rest is just a blur.

Hangman’s shot down the enemy fighter plane, saving Maverick and Rooster from certain death, and all you can hear is a symphony of voices, cheers, and orders to return to the carrier as quickly as possible. It’s a celebration from here on out. The entire carrier staff is piling on deck, in an effort to support the landing of both Hangman, Rooster, and Maverick’s planes. When the three deplane, they’re swarmed, aviators and crew members alike celebrating a safe return home.

You and Halo are climbing out of your super hornet once again, joined by the rest of the Dagger Squad as you fight your way across the tarmac on the carrier. It all happens so quickly, and you’re practically flinging yourself into Jake’s arms since he’s the first one you see – the first one to have a spare moment. He squeezes you tightly, letting out another celebratory laugh as he picks you up off of your feet to spin you around.

“Thank you,” you finally say, as he puts you down,

He shrugs, as if it’s not a big deal, even though you all know it is.

“Just doin my job, kid,” he says, shrugging off your comment.

Phoenix rolls her eyes as the two of you exchange a glance. If there’s a time he’s deserved the right to be arrogant, this is it.

“So this is the time he chooses to be humble,” she teases, playfully rolling her eyes.

“Phoenix,” you sigh, pulling her a tight hug. “Well done! And welcome home.”

You pull away from each other, elated by the success of the mission, and the complete 180 that Maverick and Rooster managed to pull off. You steal a glance Rooster’s way, seeing him deep in conversation with Mav. You’re not going to interrupt, but you’re practically jumping out of your skin to get to him next. As you stand there, Phoenix and Hangman exchange looks. She nudges him with her elbow in the ribcage, eliciting a loud, ‘OW!’ from Jake that pulls your focus.

“What?” you ask, looking from Jake to Natasha, wondering why they were both acting so weird.

“C’mon, Bagman,” she groans, putting the pressure on him.

“What?!” he exclaims. His face falling as he realizes. “No.”

“Yes!” she insists.

“No!”

“Oh, grow up.”

“Fine.”

“Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.”

As they turn their attention to you, you look from Nat to Jake, quizzically. Hangman sighs in defeat, his face falling, as he gives up on the idea that he’s going to get out of this.

He nods in the direction of Rooster and Mav. The look on his face is so genuine that you know he means it when he says:

“Go get your guy.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“What’re you talking about?” you begin to ask, shooting him a funny look.

“Nothing gets by me, kid,” Jake chuckles with a shake of his head.

He knows that, while you weren’t waiting for it, while you didn’t need it, giving you his blessing still means a whole lot.

It looks like Maverick and Rooster are wrapping up their conversation, leaving the strong embrace they were locked in before. Phoenix shoots you another look of encouragement, as she beams back at you, and it’s really all the encouragement you need.

“Okay,” you say nervously, looking from one best friend to the other.

“Okay,” you repeat yourself, quieter this time as you turn to go.

You can hear Nat celebrating behind you with a ‘yes!’ while she tries, to no avail, to get Jake to high five her.

It’s almost as if you’re working yourself up to be bold as you walk towards Rooster. He’s just standing there, sweaty and a little banged up, watching Maverick walk away as you approach. You’re not sure how, with one date and a two week period, he’s managed to have you wrapped around his finger, but in your defense it’s been an intense two weeks. Maybe it’s because you asked him to wait – making him a forbidden fruit of sorts – that’s kept you on the hook.

You’re dying to kiss him again.

That’s for sure.

It’s all about the wind up.

The waiting.

The anticipation.

“Bradshaw!” you call after him, hoping to catch his attention.

The adrenaline is still pulsing through his body as he turns around in response to the sound of your voice. He’s grinning as he sees you standing there, in your flight suit, the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon. Fuck it. He doesn’t care that you don’t know where exactly this is going and that kissing you publicly will be quite the statement. As the two of you lock eyes, it’s a no brainer.

The mission is over, completed, and a wild success! You both deserve to celebrate a little.

You leap into his arms as quickly as you can. Rooster’s embracing you, scooping you off of your feet, unable to hide the silly grin that’s plastered to his face.

And then he kisses you like he almost died today, and in all fairness, he almost did. His lips are on yours like magnets. He thinks to himself that he may never get over this – may never get tired of kissing you – and it’s only just begun.

Shit, did he have it bad…

“You came back,” you whisper against his lips, as he places you back onto your feet.

“I made you a promise,” he smiles, cupping your face with one of his hands. He pauses to admire you, before leaving one more kiss on your lips.

“You’re amazing,” is all that seems to tumble out of your mouth. Before you can say more, you hear a voice call out for Rooster.

“Bradshaw!” Hondo says. He looks from you to Rooster, shooting the both of you an apologetic smile. “Sorry to break this up but uh… we gotta get you to the infirmary. Check you out after all of that.”

All of that. Right. The whole plane-being-shot-down thing. The whole almost-dying today thing.

But Bradley isn’t ready to part ways with you yet. You feel his fingers interlace with yours as he grabs your hand and asks, with a hopeful look in his eyes:

“Come with me?”

And you’re saying ‘yes’ before he can even finish his question.

You wait outside of the infirmary for him to get checked out for as long as it takes. He’s got a few bruised ribs, a few lacerations but no internal bleeding, and whiplash the doctors are sure he’ll be feeling by tomorrow, which is pretty good for having been shot down and stealing an old F-14. The minute you’re allowed to go in, you’re right beside him, with no intention of leaving. You’re not sure how, in two weeks, a man you barely know has managed to capture so much of your heart. Chalk it up to infatuation, the anticipation, or a genuine curiosity, but maybe Natasha Trace was onto something when insisting the two of you meet.

The doctors have come and gone, wanting to keep him overnight for observation. Mav should be here, but he’s not which, doesn’t surprise you considering he’s never followed protocol anyways. Truthfully, you’re grateful to have some time alone with Rooster before you dock tomorrow morning.

You double check to make sure no one’s listening before deciding to bring it up.

“Glad my little incentive worked,” you wink, giving his hand a squeeze.

You haven’t let go of his hand since you were allowed to come visit.

“Oh I-, I uh. Shit, I can’t believe I’m saying this but…” he blushes, as he stammers over his words. “But uh… I don’t want you to feel like… you owe me that or anything. I mean, I would just be happy with a second date or-.”

“Rooster,” you interrupt, your voice surprisingly even.

“If I recall correctly,” you lower your voice. You stand up out of your chair, leaning over him so that you can kiss him, just barely ghosting your lips over his. “I promised to rock your world. And I am nothing if not a woman of my word, Bradshaw.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, feeling his heart pound in his chest. His face is flushed red as you kiss his top lip, something you find oh so endearing.

“Oh yeah,” you mirror his language with a small nod of your head.

You softly press your lips against his, smiling into the kiss as you promise further, “And as soon as the medic clears you... it is so. On.”

If the adrenaline drop in his body hadn’t been a gateway for the pain to kick in, he might let you ride him right here. He clears his throat trying his best act as normal as possible, like he’s not half hard already. You feel Rooster wrap an arm around your waist, encouraging you towards him as he shifts further up the hospital bed.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he groans, squeezing your hip as he pulls you closer.

He doesn't need to ask you twice. You grin, climbing into the bed with him and curling up next to him. You rest your head on his chest as he lies on his back, laying on your side so that you can wrap a leg around him.

You smile again, thinking about how he’s called you sweetheart.

And how much you liked it.

You actually can’t stop smiling at this point.

Hearing it – the pet name – on Rooster’s lips makes you feel so silly in the best way. You’re not a soldier, not a fighter pilot, you’re just a girl with a stupid crush on a guy that you can’t wait to get all kinds of distracted with.

You can’t believe someone this sexy is also this sweet – still in total disbelief that he would even hesitate to take you up on your offer to give him the best night of his life.

As you bury your face into his chest, curling up with him, he begins stroking your hair gently, as you relax into him.

“You’re still in your flight suit,” he chuckles, the rumble of his laugh resonating all through his chest.

“Well, I didn’t work as hard as you today. Didn’t get the thing all messy. I could go change back into my uniform but… here is nice…” you sigh, sinking into the mattress with him.

“Yeah. Here is nice,” he repeats, lifting his head to steal a glance your way.

There’s a comfortable silence between the two of you as you enjoy each others’ company. Bradley runs a soothing hand through your hair as you rest your head on his chest, observing the rise and fall of each breath he takes.

It’s starting to hit you: the excitement and exhaustion of the day. Today had been an emotional rollercoaster and the fact that you’d already grown so emotionally attached to Bradley – or at least the potential of him – had ramped up the stakes more than you wanted when you arrived at TOPGUN. You let out an exasperated sigh, like you can breathe for the first time all day, and you feel like you’re finally coming down, you like that it’s Rooster who’s here to catch you. You feel the vibrations on Bradley’s voice as he says:

“You should get some rest.”

After being shot down by an enemy combatant, and he’s still trying to take care of you?! Where did Nat find this guy?! You don’t even need to see that he’s smiling to hear it in his voice. You feel so safe with him, here in his arms, even though you haven’t known him for long. You close your eyes and take a breath, enjoying the way this all feels.

Bradley isn’t quite ready to fall asleep yet, so he enjoys your company, trying his best to help you relax. As your eyes flutter closed, he feels like he should pinch himself or something. It’s been such an emotional day. Sure, his super hornet had been shot down in enemy territory. Sure, it had been a dogfight to the very end that could’ve very well been his last. Sure, it seemed like maybe he could start working towards smoothing things over with Maverick…

But this thing between the two of you takes the cake. He’s practically jumping out his skin – excited and curious – about what this could be. He’s enjoyed getting to know you over the last two weeks, and now that all bets were off and the mission was over, he was more than eager to get to know you better.

There’s something about you that’s left an impression on him, and he can’t get you out of his head. The idea that you wouldn’t be a distraction for him flew out the window after the first date – at least for him – and now that he doesn’t have to focus on a mission, Bradley Bradshaw only has eyes for you.

After looking for you in the rec room and the women’s sleeping quarters, Nat comes to the conclusion that you’re probably with Bradley – everything going according to plan. Between the success of the mission and Operation: Set Up, she’s intent on taking a nice hot shower before joining the rest of the crew for dinner. With a triumphant smile on her face, she gathers her toiletry bag, a towel, and a clean uniform, throwing them carelessly into her smaller-sized Navy-issued backpack. She then takes her down, making a note that it’s wash day, and that her hair is in dire need of a little TLC.

The bathrooms on these carriers are nothing glamorous, but at least it seems like the ships have gotten a few upgrades here and there. The showers aren’t a single stainless steel hose anymore, offering a proper shower head these days which, she thinks, is the least the Navy can do.

As she walks towards the shower, not paying attention much to her surroundings after a more-than-eventful day, she runs right into a uniform clad man, causing her to jump.

“Jesus Christ, Hangman! You scared the shit out of me,” she exclaims, as soon as she realizes who it is.

“What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at dinner with everyone else?” he asks, bluntly.

“I wanted to take a shower. What’re you doing here?” she asks back, matching the sassiness of his question.

He takes a beat. While he could make up something, say something snarky about taking his victory lap, he decides just to be honest with her.

“I uh… just lookin’ for Whiskey. Wanted to see if she was okay. Hadn’t seen her since we landed and it’s been a day,” he admits with a shrug.

Of course they’d both be looking for her at the same time. Natasha wonders if this is some kind of karmic payback for parent trapping Rooster and Whiskey. Was this universe fucking with her or what?

“She’s fine. She’s with Rooster,” Natasha is quick to answer. “And don’t even think about bothering them!”

Hangman chuckles, before rolling his eyes.

“What is with you about them anyways?” he pries, taking a step towards her.

She shrugs, before answering plainly, “I don’t know. They’re both the best people I know. Thought it was about time they met.

“And what does that make me?” Jake asks back, ready to engage in their regular game of banter.

“The worst. Definitely the worst, Bagman,” she scoffs, emphasizing the call sign she knows gets under his skin. Natasha crosses her arms across her chest as if to signify that she’ll be standing her ground on this one.

“Yeah, whatever,” he shoots back, his gaze following her.

She takes a step forward with every intention of pushing past Hangman so that she can shower, but something stops her. Nat looks down for a moment, only to meet his eyes with hers once more as she looks back up. She feels it’s only right to give him proper credit where credit’s due.

“I suppose… not today, though,” she concedes, treading carefully. “Today… you get a pass, I guess. But don’t let it get to your head.”

“You’re right,” he smirks, his lips twisting into an arrogant grin. “I am the hero of the day. Glad you finally recognize, Phoenix.”

She rolls her eyes, already annoyed by the blonde.

“Oh fuck off. I’m not stroking your ego,” she mutters, taking a few steps towards Jake, the only thing standing between her and a hot shower.

“Well, I got something else you could-,” he starts, an arrogance in the way he talks that makes her want to punch him in the face.

“Don’t even finish that!” she cuts him off, warning him with the look she sends him.

“Ha! That’d be something,” Jake quips, with a raise of his eyebrows. “A sight for sore eyes, Trace.”

“You wish, Bagman,” she banters, attempting this time to push past him.

She lets out the smallest gasp of surprise when Jake doesn’t move, putting her toe to toe with her frenemy. Her eyes meet his green ones once more and she stops, standing so close to Hangman she’s not sure what the hell is going on anymore.

“Yeah. I do,” he drawls, under his breath.

Her head spins for a moment, and for once, she doesn’t have a witty reply or a snarky comment to say back.

She searches his face for any sign that he’s going to take back what he’s said – like there’s no way it could be real. It’s got to be some joke, so dig to get under her skin, an attempt to throw her off her game. But the longer she waits, it begins to dawn on her that it’s not a quip, an arrogant pass at her he’d call a flirtion, or a line he’d use on some bartender at the Hard Deck. It almost sounds like… an admission.

Normally, she’d find it hard to believe – that there could be a genuine side to Jake Seresin – but her mind wanders back to the morning after the bird strike. She’d woken up the next morning and, despite her best efforts, Hangman was still there. He’d spent the night at the hospital with her and Bob despite needing to report for duty at 0800 that morning. She couldn’t imagine that that chair had been remotely comfortable to sleep in, but she’d tried not to think too hard about it.

“You-, you what?” she asks in disbelief. Her eyes flicker away before returning his gaze again, like he’s just said something so absurd – like he’s just said he’d like to transform into a flying monkey.

But when he doesn’t answer, Natasha can’t stop the overwhelm of questions bubbling up in her head. The look on Jake’s face is a total curveball that she’s not quite sure what to do with. He’s just patiently awaiting her response, only a little smug that he’s rendered her completely speechless.

She doesn't know what possesses her to do so – maybe the leftover adrenaline from the mission, the high of flying – but she’s got some questions she’s determined to get answers to. Questions like:

Does Jake Seresin want to kiss me? And what if I like it? What if I like it more than I hate him?

Slowly, Phoenix raises her hands up to his chest, the tension between them thick. As she balls her fists up with the fabric of the camo uniform he wears, curling her fingers into the woven fabric, Jake watches the movement of her hands in anticipation. The hard planes of muscles underneath her knuckles are hard to miss. It’s not like she hasn’t seen the man shirtless before… but feeling him? Feeling what’s been underneath this whole time is a different story.

“What’re you doing?” he asks her, so quietly, as if speaking any louder would scare her away.

“A fucking science experiment. What does it look like I’m doing?” she mutters under his breath. And in a way, she is.

“I-,” Jake starts, hesitantly.

“I’m testing a theory, Bagman, so… how about you just kiss me?!” she exclaims, impatiently.

He doesn’t need more encouragement than that.

Jake folds his much bigger hands around both of her wrists, pulling Nat closer to him with a quick jerking moment. The little gasp she lets out causes him to smirk and for a moment, she doesn’t hate that that’s what his face looks like when he does it.

“I should warn you. I’m an incredible kisser,” he coos, his voice low like he’s trying to do his best Johnny Cash impression.

“Oh shut up!” she snaps, grabbing his face in both of her hands to crash her lips against his.

It’s the one thing, she decides, that will get him to shut up, and boy, does it work. Natasha presses her lips against his over and over again, sighing into his mouth as he kisses her with a hunger that surprises her. She lets herself get lost in his lips – the way his mouth feels against hers, the fervor and desire they seem to communicate – she realizes that she doesn’t want to stop. It’s almost annoying, really, how much she doesn’t want to stop.

Jake thinks he may be imagining it, unable to comprehend that Phoenix just may like kissing him more than she expected to. His breath hitches in his throat as he feels her tug on his neck, practically dragging him into the bathroom on the carrier and slamming the door shut.

He watches as she turns around to lock the door, and he just can’t help himself.

“What? Data not conclusive enough?” he teases her. “Or you just need more of me, Trace?”

“Yes! I mean, no,” she answers, almost too quickly. Natasha slides out of the straps of her backpack before placing it down next to her.

“I think I liked it better when you weren’t talking, Bagman,” she snaps, busying herself with the lock on the door. “And I didn’t want anyone to see.”

Jake stands behind her as the click of the door locking rings out in the carrier bathroom. He wonders if she regrets it – only brought him in here for another fight, to tell him it was a mistake and that they shouldn’t have kissed. He slides gentle hands around her hips, pulling her back towards him once more. This is the point of no return, she thinks. The way she sees it, they have two options: she could tell him to stop, or they could cross this line and never look back.

“We can stop if you want to,” Jake’s voice rumbles out from behind her, his tone of voice softer; lighter.

He’s wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him as she stumbles backwards into him. The way he touches her is gentle, thoughtful, and surprisingly respectful because he wants her to know that he means it.

We can stop if you want to.

But she doesn’t want to.

Instead of answering, she reaches up, pulling her hair to the right side of her neck, offering Jake fucking Seresin more of her body. She can’t believe this is what it’s come to. There’s a lump in his throat as he watches, swallowing hard in response to her newly exposed skin. He rarely sees her with her hair down, and Jake can’t get over how beautiful Natasha Trace really is. And this hair… all of this thick, luscious dark hair? It’s giving him ideas….

Jake begins to leave soft kisses over the top of her shoulders, kissing and then sucking on her bare skin. Jake doesn’t know how much control he has left when he hears the first moan escape from her lips, pressing her ass back against him. He uses his lips and tongue again, desperate to hear the little noises she makes as he continues to kiss her neck.

“I don’t want to stop,” she finally confesses, making sure he knows that she’s in.

Maybe this all made sense.

All of the bickering back and forth, all of the eye rolls and looks of dismay, all of the resentment and tension had to be let out somehow, didn’t it? Jake feels so damn charged up, and he’s losing his fucking mind with the way she arches her back against him. He’s not going to second guess it, not going to think twice about going where this was going.

Hell, maybe it’s just a ‘what happens on the carrier stays on the carrier’ kind of thing. He doesn’t know and he doesn't need to know right now - not with how good she feels against him.

There’s a momentary loss of body heat as Nat takes a step forward, and just when Jake’s about to say something, she’s turning back around, pulling the top of her uniform over her head and tossing it on the floor. She grabs his hand, pulling him towards her before crashing her lips to his once again. It’s as if she can’t get close enough to him, her skin on fire if she doesn’t get what she needs from. Hell, she hasn’t even let him get a good look at her in her bra yet before she’s pulling him back to her, so desperate to have his body against hers.

Her lips are all over his once again, sucking on his top lip so feverishly she knows that both of their lips will be kiss-swollen afterwards. Cupping her face so tenderly, Jake licks her bottom lip, begging for entrance before tangling his tongue with hers, falling further and further down this rabbit hole.

Jake begins to leave hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and her neck, his hands running up and down her now-bare abdomen. She takes note of how warm his big hands feel as they explore new territory.

“Not there,” she whines, as he sinks his teeth into the top of her shoulder. She can’t believe she lets out a giggle following, before she adds: “Don’t want anyone to see.”

Jake chuckles, the vibrations deep in his chest as he says, “You think you run this show, darlin’,” in between kisses. With his mouth ghosting over the skin of her collarbone, he looks up at her, catching her brown eyes with his green ones. “Think you can keep me as your dirty little secret?”

“You are my dirty little secret,” she’s quick to reply, though she’s lost in the way Jake’s mouth feels on her.

“Hmm,” he hums into her skin. “Seems like I’m going to have to show you otherwise.”

She wishes she had a better reply, but she doesn’t, and soon enough Jake’s sinking his teeth into a particularly sensitive spot above her collarbone, earning a sigh of pleasure from her. His tongue snakes out to soothe the sting of his teeth, and he’s satisfied knowing that when she sees the mark on her body tomorrow morning, she’ll think of him.

“Fuck,” she groans, only mildly annoyed that he won this one.

There’s something about her – something about how she always has the upperhand – that makes Jake want to consume her. He wants to pull the sweetest sounds from her lungs, he wants to see her lose control, eager to turn the otherwise composed aviator into a mumbling desperate mess for him.

For him, and only him.

He’s not sure when this started – when he started feeling this way – and he wonders if she’s been thinking about this as long as he has. He grins as he pushes her against the bathroom door, another moan escaping her lips, caging her in between his body and the exit. He strips off his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him, before his mouth and hands begin to move lower.

Fuck.

So that’s what’s been lying underneath the flight suit…

Nat indulges herself, her eyes selfishly taking in the defined muscles of his back and shoulders as Hangman moves down her body.

“Thought I’d give you something to look at,” he brags, cockily.

Before she can come back with a witty remark, Jake’s kneeling on the floor, pulling her uniform trousers down her legs, encouraging her to step out of them. He reminds himself that he wants to make this last, wants to drag this out for as long as possible, wants to be the reason she loses her mind entirely today.

“What’re you-?” she pants, running a hand through her hair. She allows his hands to guide her body where he’d like her to be, pinning her up against the door. She looks down, and the sight of Jake Seresin on his knees for her makes her breath hitch in her throat.

Instead of answering, Jake looks up, his green eyes gleaming with desire as he glides one of her legs over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Hangman,” she sighs, her eyes fluttering closed. Jake presses a soft kiss to the inside of her leg, just above her knee, as she finally uses his actual call sign. She figures it's the least she can do if this is going where she thinks it’s going.

She feels him smile against her skin as his mouth moves higher up, loving the way his call sign sounds falling from her mouth.

“You don’t have to-,” Natasha stammers, her breathing getting heavier and more uneven as Hangman works his way up higher and higher.

“Oh but I’m going to,” he coos, a smirk on his face. “You just relax, sweetheart. I got this.”

He wonders if he should ask – make sure she’s okay with it. But the sound that comes out of her mouth is like music to his ears when he pulls her panties to the side to get his first taste of the aviator he’s never been able to get out of his mind.

“Oh fuck!” Phoenix cries out with the first contact of his tongue, her eyes snapping open.

Hangman looks back up at her, meeting her gaze as if to make sure he should move forward. She nods, and he’s practically ripping her cotton panties off of her, pulling her hips closer to him so that he can properly do this. Jake’s mouth is back on her, his head between her legs, licking a broad strip up the entirety of her hot, wet heat.

Who knew that something that was so wrong could feel so right?

She’s beginning to lose control as he wraps his arms around her body, his hands grabbing onto her ass so that he can hold her in place. Jake’s mouth, something she could care less for in any other circumstance, is the one thing bringing her the most pleasure, making her see stars, causing her to cry out as she tangles her fingers into his blonde locks. Head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, Jake brings her over the edge. He thinks he could get off just to the sounds she’s making, her legs shaking, as she moans his call sign when she cums.

Nat braces herself against the door, her arms shaking as Hangman stands tall, towering over her once again.

“Holy shit, Hangman,” she whispers in between breaths, blinking her eyes a few times. “Who knew that mouth of yours was good for more than pissing me off.”

With a shit-eating grin, he’s kissing her again, letting her taste herself on his lips as she drags her teeth over his bottom one.

“I have a condom in my bag,” Nat mentions, in between kisses.

“Yeah?” he asks, pulling away for a moment.

“Yeah, in my toiletry bag,” she adds, breathlessly.

Jake cuts the kiss short, bending over to grab the backpack that sits next to their feet. He holds it close to her chest, instantly finding her toiletry bag. Jake unzips it, holding eye contact with Nat as his hands search for a foil wrapper. Unwilling to lose this game, Nat maintains his gaze, noticing that he’s found the condom in her periphery. Holding onto the condom, Jake drops the rest of the toiletry bag, daring her to do something about it.

Nat snatches the condom out of his hands, and before she can do anything else, Hangman’s picking her up, more than satisfied when he feels her legs wrap around his waist. He makes big strides to the bathroom counter, setting her down as she lets out a squeal. Phoenix busies herself with tearing her bra over her head, then focuses on getting Hangman’s pants off as quickly as she can.

He helps as much as he can, letting the trousers and his briefs fall to the floor, his belt hitting the floor with a clang.

She bites down on her bottom lip, holding back a moan as she sees Hangman naked for the very first time. He very well could be the biggest dick on this carrier – in more ways than one. Nat wraps her legs around his waist, this time using them to pull him closer, something Jake finds incredibly hot. He lets out what can only be described as a chuckle and a groan simultaneously. With forehead pressed against hers, he lets his hands trace over her bare breasts, sending shivers down her spine as he lightly pinches one of her nipples.

Nat’s mouth is back on him in an instant, swallowing his moans in her mouth while she pushes hips against him.

“Phoenix,” he drags out, hissing as he feels just how wet she is.

She can see how much he’s holding back with the tension in his clenched jaw, trying to maintain control. She smirks in response, pausing the motion of her hips to run her hands down his naked torso. Jake’s grinning like a cheshire cat as she does it, watching her carefully as she admires his hard work.

“Like what you see?” he baits her.

“Just put the fucking condom on,” she orders.

God, he loves how bossy she is.

Jake reaches for the condom where Nat’s placed it on the counter. His hair is messy from the way Phoenix has pulled at it – from when they were making out, from when he was between her legs eating her out. He takes a few steps back so that he can put it on, tearing the wrapper open and tossing it to the floor. Nat watches him carefully as he slides it on his rock hard length, excited by the anticipation of it.

Holy shit, she thinks to herself. I’m about to fuck Jake Seresin.

And it had been too damn long since she’d last gotten laid.

She’s reminded that she’s never been good at hiding her facial expressions when Jake asks:

“You uh… you good?”

She shoots him a confused look in response as he takes a step towards.

“I mean. I just want to make sure… that you wanna do this?” he adds, softer this time, as he searches for clarity within her.

This is a new side of him she’s seeing.

“Come here,” she encourages, holding her hand out to him. He takes it, taking a few steps forward until he’s standing right in front of her. Jake waits for her to continue, for her to tell him something, but instead of words, Nat’s sliding her hands over his shoulders, pulling him so that she can kiss him.

“Damn, Hangman,” she says, her eyes flickering over back down to his length.

Maybe he did have a reason to be so cocky after all.

He chuckles, followed by a hiss as he feels her hand wrap around his dick, dragging his latex-covered length over her core. Jake leans in, cupping her face as he plants one more kiss on her lips once more before lining up the tip of himself with her entrance.

They both gasp at the feel of each other, a brand new sensation as he enters her for the first time.

“Holy fuck, Trace,” he groans, pushing further into her. “You feel too damn good.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she pants, enjoying the delicious way that he stretches her.

When he’s finally all the way in, Jake gives her a moment to adjust. He kisses her gently, and with the way she’s pulsing around him, he thinks he deserves a gold medal for exercising this much self restraint. He begins to pull out, pushing back in at an experimental pace a few times. He fills her so well, but she won’t tell him that yet.

“C’mon, Hangman,” Nat whines, in regards to the incredibly slow pace he’s set for them. “That all you got?”

Pausing just as he fills her completely, Jake looks at her, raising an eyebrow.

“Should’ve known you’d like it rough, Phoenix,” he croons. He’s mentally preparing himself because while he wants so badly to ruin her, he thinks he may ruin himself while he’s at it.

“Should’ve,” she dares him, her voice filled with lust, dying for him to properly fuck her.

He meets her brown eyes once more with his, almost as a warning, like this is the last chance she gets before they both lose control. Nat’s lips twist into a smile when she notices the way his jaw twitches, so on the edge of going mad.

“I’m not going to back out now, if that’s what you’re waiting for. And I want your best, Lieutenant.”

Jake groans in response and he feels his dick twitch inside of her when she calls him ‘Lieutenant.’ He grabs a handful of her hair, pulling her head back and earning the sweetest moan he thinks he’s ever heard.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes, before pulling out only to slam back into her with a force that makes her see stars.

“Fuck!” she shouts, feeling the rough snap of his hips.

It’s as if he’s lost all reins of control. Jake pounds into her with an urgency that’s made him dumb. The way she moans his various names, cries out when he hits that particular spot deep inside of her, grasps at his shoulders, his back, his hair. And then she’s snapping her hips into his with an equal amount of intensity, lifting one of her legs up over his shoulder, making Jake wonder if she’s always been this flexible.

What the hell had he been missing out on?

Had they just wasted all this time bickering, bantering, and competing back and forth when they could’ve been doing this?

He doesn’t think he’ll last much longer with the way she’s squeezing around him. With one leg strung over his shoulder, he grabs Nat’s hips, fucking into her like he means it.

“Fuck, I-, I think I’m gonna,” she stammers out, the pleasure all too much.

“Phoenix, god damn,” he moans, though he’s hesitant to keep up this pace wanting to make this last longer. “You feel too good.”

He’s not sure what it is – perhaps, the slightest change in pace, a hesitancy that wasn’t there before – that grabs her attention.

Her eyes snap open as she warns him.

“Don’t you dare slow down,” she begs, though it comes out sounding much more like a demand than a please. Nat bucks her hips into his, so close to her orgasm. “Seresin, please.”

And it’s the way that she says ‘please’ that makes him think he’d give her anything she wants. He drives into her, holding her hips down as he takes her over the edge, with an intensity that could launch a missile into space. She’s crying out to the gods – words like Seresin, Hangman, and fuck – but not Jake when she cums. But Jake could care less, because she feels too good, and he’s right behind. He cums with a strangled moan, burying his face in her neck as he fucks the both of them through their highs.

Natasha tries to catch her breath, coming down from her high. She feels him begin to soften inside her, and Jake pulls out, leaving their close quarters to dispose of the condom.

“Um, so that happened,” she sighs, running a hand through her as she tries not to pretend that she’s not still weak in the knees.

“It did,” Jake says, returning to where he stands right in front of her.

She hops off of the bathroom counter, standing toe to toe with Jake once again. Her legs are still shaking, but she doesn’t want Hangman to know that. She braces herself against the counter, using her arms to give her more stability so she doesn’t give herself away.

“I um- I’m gonna shower. See you at dinner?” she stammers, trying her best to act normal.

“Uh yeah,” Jake exhales, thrown by how casual she’s being.

Like he hadn’t just been inside of her a minute ago.

He can’t tell whether or not he sounds as disappointed by her comment as he feels, because he can barely get a read on her.

Nat stands up taller, wrapping her arms around his neck once more to kiss him goodbye. She gives him a half smile, before pushing past him to gather her things for the shower.

He’s not sure what he expected. That they’d fuck and he’d finally have the courage to tell her how he feels? That she’d tell him she’s had these feelings for him for a while now? That now she won’t be able to get him out of her head?

Jake can take a hint, and as Nat turns the shower on, he begins to get dressed. Pulling his uniform trousers back on, he walks over towards the door to the bathroom, picking up his shirt too.

He steals one more look Phoenix’s way.

She seems to have busied herself with setting out her things for her shower, preoccupied with well, anything but him. Phoenix keeps her eyes fixed on the small travel-sized toiletries she’s collecting for her shower, and when she hears the door close behind her, she knows Jake has finally left.

“Shit,” she mutters to herself.

She’s not sure how to feel about what just happened, but she feels like an asshole about how she just handled the aftermath.

They fucked. And she liked it.

She regrets not saying more, but it’s as if, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get the words out. Part of her feels bad for kicking him out like that, and the other part of her feels relieved because what the actual fuck just happened.

Phoenix steps into the shower, hoping the feel of the hot water against her skin will give her some clarity.

What the fuck just happened.

And why?

And why do I want it to happen again?

And what does this mean?

She barely hears the door open over the sound of running water. It’s not until she hears footsteps, a rustling sound of a toiletry bag, and the clang of a belt hitting the floor that she realizes she’s no longer alone.

So much for getting to think overthink in this shower…

“Phoenix?” shee hears a voice call after her, surprised to find that it’s the same voice that had been moaning her call sign a few moments ago.

“Uh… what’s up?” she asks, her eyes widening as soon as she realizes it’s Hangman.

When he doesn’t answer, she pokes her head out from behind the shower curtain. Hangman’s there, a towel hanging dangerously low around his waist, his back pressed up against the edge of her shower stall.

“You forget something?” she asks, matter-of-factly. She’s unable to fathom that, after practically kicking him out and most likely wounding his ego, that he’d be back for more this soon.

He shakes his head, shrugging carelessly as he asks:

“Can I join you?”

There’s an arrogant smile on his face, something she bet works on most women. She’s barely caught up with herself before her mouth is saying ‘yes,’ her mind still stuck on ‘what the fuck is happening?’

Nat ogles him shamelessly as Jake removes his towel, making as much space as she can for him in this tiny shower. He steps in, and they maneuver themselves around the small space so that they’re chest to chest. Jake hasn’t taken his eyes off of her, holding her gaze as he finds himself here with her… again.

Nat breaks their staring contest, following her fingertips as she traces shapes across his broad chest. She’ll give it to him. Maybe you do earn some rights to being an arrogant son of a bitch when you look like this. She raises her other hand to his chest, gently dragging her nails down his torso, earning a hiss from Hangman.

She smirks, as she looks further down.

“Already, Bagman?” she asks, eyeing his growing erection.

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” he rasps, his eyes closing as she wraps her hand around his increasingly hard length.

“You love it,” she counters, her voice soft and velvety as she taunts him.

And as he turns her around so that he can slip himself back inside of her for the second time today, she finally says it. It’s sounds like something between a strangled moan and a desperate plea as the word tumbles out of her mouth:

"Jake."

read: chapter five

a/n: god i love them sm. don't worry, folks. rooster x reader content coming v v soon. can you believe hannix beat rooster and whiskey to the punch?!

taglist: @not-two-shrimp @wishfulwithwine @hangmanscoming @thefourrealms@hlkwrites @dlea203 @translatemunson

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