#hangman x knockout
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Small Doses
Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader | Part 2 |
Summary: Being top of your class comes with great opportunities and even better company, save for the obnoxious, devilishly handsome assholes who make you fall harder than you intended. Returning to North Island makes Knockout reunite with a ghost from her past, and forced to face the possibilities of the future.
Word Count: 7,032 words
Content Warning: This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own discretion. || HEY THERE’S SMUT DOWN THERE SO YOU BETTER BE 18!!! (protected piv, fingering, just really hot and reckless nonsense)
Author’s Note: heyyyyy we’re here again, who’s surprised? not me.....nope. anyways, i really loved the idea i had behind this one, and i can’t wait to get it rolling. a huge huge HUGE thank you goes to @callsignthirsty for making this as hot as it is - I couldn’t have done it without her, she’s incredible and a true MVP for Beta reading what kind of was a mess to start with. Thank you Rowdy!!!
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What’s the old saying? Love is the loneliest place, when you fall alone?
No truer words had been spoken.
Leaving boot camp in Nevada had felt like a death sentence. Simultaneously one of the best and worst days of your life. Best, because your career was just beginning, you were turning a new page. Worst, because you had to start all your friendships over again. You had to leave him.
Maybe that’s why you threw everything you had into your career. You ate, lived, and breathed the Navy. First to rise, last to fall. People joked that it was your only personality trait, and in a way that was true.
You had common hobbies, no wild interests, and very few friends outside of work. There was no point when you were changing bases every three years. The friends you made at work were enough to keep you content.
Or so you convinced yourself. With each wedding you’re invited to, every birthday party, you realized you don’t have the support system or community that others had. You had your grandfather, your aunt, and your cousin, but the loss of your dad had been hard for you. Especially fresh out of high school.
Aside from your extended family, you didn’t have many friends. That’s a lie. You had Jake. Sort of. He wasn’t a complete asshole to you despite the way the two of you parted. He would respond when you reached out and you’d reconnect maybe once or twice a year. Called on each other’s birthdays. That was about the extent of it.
You hated that you still kept in touch with him despite how cruel he’d been to you that last day. But it was hard to let him go. He popped into your mind way more frequently than you cared to admit, especially when you knew you didn’t need the distraction.
So, you focused your attention on your career, instead. You flew through ranks as fast as your jets, bending with the wind and turning with the tide.
You’d made it to TOPGUN and frankly - it was hell. It was everyone out for themselves, and begging to be the admiral’s pet. The time you spent in North Island had not been pleasant. You’d learnt a million lessons while you were there: including how hard it was to be lonely.
Upon your promotion five years out, you were back in San Diego; no longer Lieutenant, but Lieutenant Commander.
The promotion has you electrified; suddenly, being back at TOPGUN wasn’t so daunting.
Especially since you were teaching this time around.
You settled right into your spot and quickly became Cyclone’s right hand. He had confidence in your skills and it showed, since he basically gave you free reign with your lessons. It was encouraging, how he spoke with you. Many of your conversations were natural and free flowing and it made you feel less isolated. Like you weren’t stranded - a sharp comparison to your first time on North Island.
When pilots came up to Fightertown, they would nearly pull out of the program when they heard your callsign.
One of the recruits had stood from his chair, on his way out and you cleared your throat. “Man, no. No fucking way. I’m out.”
“Sailor,” you bit. “You weren’t dismissed.” He slunk back to his chair, pulling it away from the desk where he’d shoved it back to its place. Slow steps found you standing next to his table looking down at him. “What’s wrong…” you glanced at his badge. “Jones? You bolted out of here pretty quickly,” you asked as he avoided your gaze.
“I’ve just heard rumors.”
“Rumors about what?” You crossed your arms, still looking at him.
His eyes finally steel back up at you. “You, Lieutenant Commander. With a callsign like Knockout… people talk.”
A grin fills your face when you hear your callsign. There was one point during your training that you’d hated the name. It had originated from one of your squad members when you’d begun boot camp.
A whistle fills the air as you approach the registration table. “Damn, look at her.”
“What a knockout.”
That name got spun on its axis the minute you got to the training grounds, outperforming the other ensigns, and breaking records left and right. Soon enough, your friends were using it, your commanders were using it - and Knockout was born.
You smiled at him before turning back to the front and walking to the lectern. “Well… they’re true. This career isn’t easy, and neither am I. ‘Soon as you realize that-” you give a cocky smile before the class, “-you’re golden.”
You loved your job, there was never any doubt about that. Especially when you got the chance to shut down the sexists that come into the ranks. Showing off your skill set and training them in the air to become better pilots and better people was one of your favorite things in the world.
The location isn’t a negative thing either. For as much grief as it had given you - some of the hardest days of your career - North Island bettered you. The town was small and the people all knew each other pretty intimately. So, as you come off the beach and into the Hard Deck in your bathing suit, you wave at a few familiar faces.
“No shoes, no shirt-” Penny starts at the sight of you and you smile as she hands you the bag you’d dropped off before going on your run on the beach.
“No service. I know, I know.” You let a laugh pass your lips as you take the bag, and move to the bathroom to change. As you pass by, you hear a comment that was assuredly referencing you.
“Did you see that girl? Man, she was gorgeous. I bet you twenty bucks I can get her number by the time you finish your drink.” You roll your eyes as you enter the bathroom. You’re quick to change into the dress you’d brought, fixing your hair before exiting again and spotting the man who’d made the comment. He follows behind you as you approach the bar again, grabbing Pen’s attention as she takes your bag once again and tucks it away.
“Can I buy the lady a drink?” The asshole careens his head into your peripheral vision, making you look at him with an innocent smirk.
“Maybe. What are we drinking?” you question as you take in his features. He’s pretty broad, kind eyes, and scars littered across a rather handsome face - a bushy mustache on his upper lip. Paired with the Hawaiian shirt and aviators around his collar, you’re certain you’ve found another pilot.
“I was drinking Corona, but if you’ve got a better idea?” He tilts his head and you wave down the other bartender serving with Penny.
“Can we get two tequila shots? On his tab, please.” You smile and turn to look at the male who’s definitely grinning now. When the bartender returns with the shots, lime wedges, and a salt shaker, you slide one over to him before prepping your own. He turns to face you with the shot glass in his hand. You clink your glass quickly with his before licking the salt from your hand, downing the liquid, and chewing on the lime.
“Whoo.” The male makes a face but lets out a laugh. “Didn’t peg you as a tequila girl,” he offers and you shake your head.
“You don’t know anything about me,” you retort, tossing the lime rind into your empty glass.
“I don’t, do I? What’s your name, beautiful?” He grins, leaning into his hand that’s propped up on the bar.
“You first.” You smirk as Penny drops off a tequila soda for you, making the man in front of you laugh.
“Well, clearly Penny knows you,” he offers as he waves her back down. “Can I get something with tequila in it?” he asks quickly, and Penny nods before going to mix him a drink.
“You got it, Rooster.” She gives you a look that you return; both of you well aware of the game that you’re playing.
“Rooster, huh?” You smirk, taking a sip of your drink, playing with the straw floating in your beverage while you make eye contact with focused hazel eyes.
“Yeah, I’m a pilot in the Navy. It’s my callsign. My real name is Bradley,” Rooster explains, just as a drink slides his way.
“I think she knows that.” Penny approaches and you give her a kind smile. “She’s an LCDR for Fightertown, Bradshaw.” You sip innocently at your drink again as a look of surprise and embarrassment falls over Rooster’s face.
“Shit, I am…” he starts, but you wave him off with a laugh.
“Relax. I was having fun. Besides, I got a drink out of it.” You wink, turning rapidly only to crash into someone behind you - a curse leaving you as your drink goes plunging to the floor.
“You gotta be joking.” The voice makes your face light up. The body turns to look at you - the expression on your face is one of surprise and soon, so is theirs.
“Kody!” He’s shouting above the sound of the bar, hands going into the air before pulling you into a hug after you set your empty glass on the bar. You give him a quick hug.
“Seresin, as I live and breathe,” you jape as you come out of the hug. The voice in the back of your mind sounds an alarm, but you’re immediately hitting the snooze button. He was here right in front of you.
“That’s my line,” he chuckles as he points a finger at you. You laugh along with him before looking down at the ground where your drink is puddled. His khakis are absolutely soaked but somehow he seems unphased by this. This is why you didn’t wear your uniform to the bar. Hangman kicks an ice cube before waving down the bartender to let them know about the mishap. “What the hell are you doing here?” he questions, sipping at his drink.
“I’m stationed out here,” you supply with a shrug, smiling at Jake. “You know, flying and stations and all that. Been here for a while now.” The information makes his eyebrows raise.
“You’re back at TOPGUN?” There’s an inkling of surprise to his question and you nod. A moment later, you look toward Penny as she sets another drink on the bar and Jake scoots out of the way to make room for the employee who’s been sent to clean up the mess you’d made.
“Yeah, I got my choice of assignments so I decided to come back,” you offer, walking with him to the pool table, taking a seat at one of the hightops nearby. Hangman leans against the table as he watches the current group playing pool, nodding as Payback sinks a ball into the far pocket.
“You got a choice? We were all dragged here.” He waves his hand, motioning over to the group that’s gathered toward the back of the bar.
“Well, I mean that was months ago, so.” You shrug and take a sip of your drink again before the conversation is interrupted with a ring of the round bell, making you look at Penny to see the sorry sucker who had to pay.
Maverick’s round kickstarts a night that takes your mind back to boot camp. Music blasts through the bar, drinks slosh as everyone dances and sings along with the jukebox. You’ve been waiting for Hangman to return with your next round of drinks, anticipating him and searching in the crowd, only for his hand to appear from behind you as he hands you a drink. His lips graze your ear as he shifts the cup to your hand.
“Pen’s out of Patrón,” he states, making you look in your cup. There’s mint and a lime floating around and you look back at him. There’s a toothpick clenched in his teeth, a smirk on his lips.
“Is this a mule?” you ask and he snickers.
“Oh c’mon, a little vodka ain’t hurt nobody.” He keeps the coy expression, his hand coming to the bottom of the cup in your hand and slowly guiding it to your lips. You laugh and shake your head.
“Okay, okay I’m drinking.” You giggle as you take a swig. The music changes over to a pop song you’re not too familiar with, but it’s got a great vibe. As the beat picks up, the vocals coming in, you’re finding yourself back up with a sway of your hips.
This time when you run into Hangman, it’s intentional. His free hand grips your waist when you make contact as if to steady you, but when your shoulders move back until you’re leaned up against him, he seems to get the idea. You’ve given him plenty of time to step away, but from the tightening of his hand around you, it’s clear that he won’t be stopping you anytime soon. If anything, Hangman pulls you a little tighter against him, strong hand encouraging the rocking grind of your hips into his lap. His breath washes over your neck, lips a hairsbreadth from your ear so that they practically kiss your heated skin. “You’re just picking up where we left off, aren’t you baby.” You can hear the smirk on his face.
When you’d first met Jake, he’d been a lot less cocky. That came with the training and the attention you’d given him over the course of your time together in Nevada. Nearly every waking hour that you weren’t in training or in jobs you’d spent with one another. You’d sneak away wherever you could get into — hall closets, cars, behind buildings, both of your dorms. The two of you had learnt how to keep quiet. He’d learnt where to suck his hickies into your skin without getting you reprimanded by your commanding officers and you made sure to keep your nail marks where no one could see them.
“Of course,” you said, arching your back so that your ass ground deliciously against the front of his khakis. Truthfully, you’d never wanted to leave that spot to begin with. “Where else would we pick up?”
Was it selfish of you to want another night with him? Maybe. But it was definitely stupid; especially after he’d nearly shattered your heart when you’d graduated.
After sweating your ass off standing in the blistering heat for nearly an hour, you’d almost cried when your grandfather grabbed your bicep. You’d hugged him tightly, grabbing onto Penelope who was nearby. You’d not seen or spoken to them in weeks, and they were the only real family you had. Despite the excitement of being reunited, you wanted to find Jake. You wanted to congratulate him - you wanted to say what had been on your mind the last three nights.
Packing up left you with a lot of reminiscing, a lot of time in your head. A lot of replaying lingering touches, careful advances, nights spent together drinking among other things. You were in love with Ensign Jake Seresin and you needed to tell him, before it was too late.
You’d found him in the crowd, happily grabbing his arm as he spoke with his own family. The glare that he shot you was unexpected.
“What? I’m leaving in like five minutes.” The man who’d opened up to you all those nights seemingly had vanished the minute his father was around.
“I just… what the hell, Jake?” You mumble, looking at him.
“What the hell to you. Can’t you see I’m busy?” His dad is grabbing his shoulder and pulling him away from you, leaving you in a sea of white, tears forming in your eyes.
It was like the last 10 weeks had just vanished. There was no Jake there. “Some wingman you are!” you shout in his direction. All you got was the back of his head.
“You make it sound like we’ve got some unfinished business,” the sound of Hangman’s groans brings you back to the bar as he tosses his neck back and finishes his beer. Beer-slick lips press to the delicate skin beneath your ear and you’re anchored back in the present. You follow his lead and try to finish your drink in one gulp, but some of the liquid escapes your lips, trailing down from the corner of your lips and down to your collarbone.
“Slow down, tiger,” Jake growls upon witnessing the alcohol trickling across your skin. “You’ll choke.”
Your stomach flips at the comment, your teeth latching on to your bottom lip to hold in a whine. Certainly wouldn’t be the first time - the words nearly leave your mouth, but you’re not sure you’re willing to admit that to the whole of the bar. You’re taking his cup from his hand, and peeling away from him to dispose of the cups, carelessly tossing them toward Penny behind the bar. When you return, you’re pressing yourself against him, chests both rapidly moving with one another.
One of your hands rests over the top of his as it slides back into place on your hip and rubs circles into your side, your other hand trailing up his firm chest to the sharp line of his jaw, cradling his face into the crook of your neck where he’s decided to hide. He’s just as affected by whatever this is as you are. You can feel it against your hip.
“I can slow down.” As if to drive your point home, your hips roll slow circles against his. You feel a groan leave him, his chest vibrating yours.
“Damn right you can.”
“But you don’t like slow,” you remind him. “You’d rather race to the finish line, all too eager for the reward.”
He nips at your neck which has you throwing your head back. Hangman huffs something into your neck, finally lapping at the beer drying there. “Better be careful there, sweetheart,” he bites and when he reappears from his hiding spot against your skin, his eyes are dark. “That mouth’s gonna get you into trouble.”
“And what if I want it to?” Your eyes are heavy and half-lidded. “We do have some business to take care of, Lieutenant.”
“Christ.” His head reels back, and the way that he says it almost sounds like a whine. “Let’s get outta here.”
“What?” you tease. “You don’t want to hang out here a little longer? I heard Maverick still owes another round,” you tag on as he’s grabbing at your waist, pulling you near.
“I don’t think that Penny’d appreciate it if I fucked you right on the bar in front of all these nice people,” Hangman growls directly into your ear and your jaw slacks at the imagery. “Now, march.”
You’re not going to wait for him to tell you again, so you grab his hand and drag him through the crowd. Penny will make sure that your stuff makes it home, you have arguably more important things to think about.
Hangman is all over you when you get to your front porch. His hands are on your waist, lips attached to yours and doing his damnedest to distract you from getting this damn key into the lock. With the door finally open, he’s following right behind you, not pulling away from you as you stumble over the threshold. You turn, attempting to close the door, but the door’s hard to reach through the wall of pilot driving you further into the house. Eventually, your heel drives the door shut, and a thud comes from behind you that makes the whole house shake.
Jake’s hands are on your hips, pushing you to the nearest wall, bunching the fabric in his big hands. Even after the years you’ve spent apart, there’s so much familiarity in his kiss, and his touch seems to burn through the cotton of your dress, your skin hot and clammy under his hands.
One of his hands vacates the spot on your waist with a final squeeze, instead grabbing both of your wrists in the breadth of his freehand, tugging them so that they’re pressed into the wall above you, secured by his strong grip. His other hand is picking at the hem of your dress, freeing it from your sweat-slick skin.
There’s not an ounce of regret in your body. How could there be when his hand is trailing up your thigh? Not a single word is spoken, the only sound in the house comes from sloppy kisses, the air filled with the smell of the ocean breeze, sweat, tequila, and Tito’s.
Hangman’s hand runs over your skin, massaging at your thigh. He continues to trail greedy fingers dangerously close to your panties, each pass leaves you pulling from his lips, best you can. “We should probably go to my room,” you gasp, voice barely above a whisper as you try not to ruin the moment. If he stops touching you, you’re convinced you might die.
“Oh c’mon, your windows aren’t that big,” he snickers, before he’s latching back onto your neck. A shift of your hips as you attempt to step away signals that you’re moving, with or without him.
Jake groans as he steps back, letting your arms fall but interlaces his fingers with yours as you lead him to your room down the hall. Once there, you hurriedly shut and lock the door before turning back to him. Jake’s already pulling his shirt from the confines of his pants, impatiently undoing buttons. You’re quick to assist, and soon you’re easing the fabric off his shoulders.
Jake’s got his undershirt off in a matter of seconds, hands reaching forward and grabbing at your waist as he kicks off his shoes. He’s guiding you to the foot of your bed, recklessly letting you fall back to the mattress.
“You’re just as stunning as you were then,” he whispers, crawling so that he’s hovering over you, an intense gaze of jade eyes meeting your own. You’re smothering the compliment before its spark can light a fire somewhere deep in you, sweeping it to the back of your mind so that you can relish in each wet kiss that brands your collarbone instead.
Burn me once, shame on you, burn me twice…
A light bite to your skin pulls you back to your room, hearing Jake’s low voice. “Where’s that pretty little head of yours?” he chides, making you look down at him.
“Thinking about how I’m still clothed,” you answer him, a taunting smile before a smirk of his own mirrors yours as his hands push up the fabric of your skirt. Fingers slide along your skin to hook beneath the waist of your panties and expertly shimmy the flimsy fabric from your hips, down your thighs and onto the floor.
“I dunno, I’d really like to see what this pretty sundress of yours looks like all bunched up at your waist while I’m balls deep in your pretty pussy,” he rasps as his hand trails nonsensical patterns along your thighs, drinking in every inch of you he can get his eyes on.
“Why don’t you find out?” You quip, and if your ass was in the air, you would’ve shaken it to entice him into doing something, but as it is he takes what you say as an invitation. Calloused hands skim along the inside of your thighs before talented fingers glide between your folds, spreading your slick without dipping into your heat as he keeps an intense gaze on your pleasure-slack lips. Your hips are moving of their own accord, squirming to try and get his fingers where you need them most, but he avoids your clit too regularly to be unintentional.
Jake’s lip curls up in a smug imitation of a smile when you whine. “You’re absolutely soaked.” His touch finally lands on your clit, applying enough pressure to make you suck in a breath, your eyes fluttering closed. “All this for me?”
“Yes,” you groan, rolling your hips into his hand for more of the sweet stimulation.
“You got no shame, do you darlin’?” Jake chuckles at your needy display, the throaty reverberations raising goosebumps on your skin where his lips pepper kisses. “Bet you saw me and just knew you needed my cock again, huh?” A finger buries itself in your heat, a slick, effortless glide up to his knuckle that has a moan slipping from your kiss-stung lips.
“Yeah,” you sigh, breath hitching as Jake curls his finger against the front wall of your cunt. “I missed you, fuck I missed you.” He’s seemingly content with the whine that leaves you as he slides a second finger into your heat and begins a torturously slow pace, stretching you out as his thumb draws lazy circles into your clit. Each press and swirl of those fingers drawing another soft whimper from you and fueling his ego.
“Oh yeah, princess. You need it bad, don’t you?” And you’d have liked to punch that arrogant sneer off his lips if he didn’t look so fucking hot propped over you, muscles in his shoulders shifting in your lamp’s soft light as he held himself over you and worked his fingers in and out of your soaked folds. “Tell me, sweetheart,” he began, licking a stripe up your neck and catching the corner of your jaw between his pearly teeth, “You been with anyone else since me?”
“Fuck you,” you bite back, because it’s been almost a decade since he saw you last. You weren’t a nun.
“Kitty’s got claws,” he teases as he squeezes a third finger into you. “Bet they haven’t been as good as me,” he muses. “No, you’re way too needy for that. They haven’t been satisfying you out here.” And you could die because he isn’t wrong and you hate that he’s seen straight through you not three hours since you’ve met back up. “Tell me, princess. After they leave, am I the one you think of to get yourself off?” Your hopeless moan is, mortifyingly, answer enough.
“Fuck, that’s hot, Knockout,” he groans into your ear as his fingers leave your cunt clenching around nothing. He draws his hand up to his mouth, lips wrapping around them as he pulls them from the heat of his mouth that you so badly wished was elsewhere right now.
“It’s like riding a bike, ain’t it babydoll?” A wicked grin splits his face and you let out an exhausted sigh at his arrogance.
“Would you shut the fuck up?” You bite as you slide a finger under the chain around his neck, looping the metal around the digit and pulling him down to you, your lips crash together. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips as your fingers continue to play with his necklace, the tags clinking against one another as you mess with them. Your own dog tags sat on your dresser not even five feet away. That was one of the few things you shared with him. That and whatever the hell this was.
Jake’s hands move to settle flat against the bed by your shoulders, caging you in as you steal his breath, hungry lips slotting together as his hips meet yours in a needy roll. The rough fabric of his slacks irritates your skin as he grinds into you, feeling the strain of his cock through the material. “Take your fucking pants off,” you growl, reaching toward his belt - in a flash, he’s on his knees grabbing your wrists again and throwing your entire body into a spin so your face is flat to the mattress. Hands roughly grabbing at your hips and pulling them up to keep your ass propped in the air.
“Last I checked, I was in charge, sweetheart.” You're reminded of how much larger he is than you when his hand easily grabs both of your wrists, crossing them behind your back and pulling ever so gently so that your shoulder blades are stretching the slightest bit. A whine leaves you and you can feel his presence grow closer until his hips are locked to yours again, leaning down to growl in your ear. “You don’t move. Understood?”
“I understand.” You confirm, only before his other hand is gripping your hair and tilting your head enough to look back at him.
“Wanna try that again?” He questions you with a dry coarseness to his voice, as though he’d not had a sip of water in days.
“Yes, sir.” You correct yourself, the statement somewhat foreign on your tongue. It had been a minute since you’d spoken it, in this context at least. With him.
Jake is upright again, pulling your body back to meet with his cock as it drags along the crease of your ass. The metal of his belt buckle sends a cool chill up your spine, a stark contrast to the heat pouring off of Jake’s body. His spare hand has left your head, and now is running carefully over your backside, slowing to a halt as he grabs a handful of your ass, spreading your cheeks to get a good look. “God, look at this. This is mine, isn’t it baby?”
“If it’s yours, why don’t you come and get it?” You retort, keeping a careful eye on him, only to see his jaw clench.
“So you wanna be smart about this, huh?” His grip tightens, his free hand returning to the back of your head and you’re nearly positive your wrists will be sore - possibly even bruised. He jolts your head to force you to make eye contact with him - the green of his irises long gone, lust dominating them. Jake lets your hair slip through grasp, hands dropping to meet the clasp of his belt, hastily undoing the latch and sliding the leather from the belt loops.
“I am smart, Hangman,” You can’t stop the way your lip ticks up or the mischievous spark lighting in your eye as you glance back at him. The brief glance you get is the sight of a foil packet between his teeth, furrowed brow included as you continue to taunt him: “I’m very smart.”
"And I—" you feel the blunt tip of him nudging at your slick entrance before he's pushing in. You let out a high pitched keen at the delicious friction as he slides home. "—am too good to be true.” His hand slides up your lower back, gripping your hip as he bottoms out, a quiet gasp leaves you.
“Not so smart now, are we, Knockout?”
“Hangman,” you seethe, scraping together every last bit of willpower you have. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I swear to G-Ahh!”
“Relax,” Hangman chides, hips retreating before they shift forward once more, “we’re just getting to the good part.”
A chill runs through you as his movement begins into a rhythm, one hand holding onto your wrists with what feels like all of his strength, the other keeping your hips still as his own collide with yours in each thrust.
“Good as you remember it, Kody?” Hangman asks, jerking your arms back so your chest lifts off the mattress for a second. He grinds against your sweet spot and you couldn’t stop the moan, even if you’d wanted to. “No, wait.. It’s better, ain’t it?”
Despite the ball of tension building in your stomach as his body rocks into yours, the response slips off your tongue, well knowing what the context would do. “I don’t know, I think Rooster might’ve been better if I’d given him a shot.”
He goes completely still the moment the words register, and for one terrifying moment, you think he's going to stop. But the words fuel something primal within him. The next rut of his hips into yours pushes you further up the bed, and he's somehow managed to push deeper into you, brushing against spots that haven't seen action in years. The hand around your wrists tugs until you're on your knees, leaning back against him as his other hand circles your neck and applies light, intoxicating pressure.. “Get that son of a bitch’s name out of your fucking mouth.” His teeth are sharp against the lobe of your ear. “Who’s cock is in you, Knockout?”
“Yours.” His grip on your throat tightens, ever so slightly. “Yours, sir.”
“That’s right, babydoll.” Warm lips hover over the skin under your ear. The next snap of his hips has you choking on a moan. "Only name I wanna hear you screaming tonight is mine." The statement is engulfed by the flames raging in your stomach.
“That all you know how to say now?” Jake asks with a breathy chuckle. “Yes, sir?” He groans at the sob that wracks your body, pussy clenching around him hot and tight. Your body desperately sucks in a breath, barely able to get any in with the grip of his hand still around your throat. “Look at you, gaggin’ for it. You’re such a needy little thing, baby.”
You throw your head back against his shoulder, embarrassingly close to the edge and lost to the push and pull of his cock against your sensitive walls. How had you survived without this for so long? Had the others really been that bad?
This thought, like all the others, is fucked from your mind with the next sinful roll of Jake’s hips. “Guess some things never change, Kody. All it takes to shut you up is my cock.” You whimper, nodding as you try to rock your hips to match his pace. “You gonna cum for me, baby?” Your eyes shut as you feel the hot breath of his pants on your skin, in a steady rhythm with each thrust up into you. “I think you are, I can feel it,” the words are broken up by tempoed pants, until his hands are back to your waist, “I wanna watch. Put on a show for me.”
A whine leaves you when he’s pulling out of you, but in short time, he’s rolling you onto your back again. You’re expecting him to slide into you again, but instead, arms come under thighs and pull you up from the mattress. In no more than five steps, he’s found a spot against the wall, dropping you up against it. With your back flush to the cool of the drywall, Jake’s filling you up again, arms flexing as he holds you up, keeping you above the ground as hips grind into yours. Each thrust is purposeful and harder than the last, the vibration of his movements echoing through the room, making furniture shift in time with his hips. Your head falls back to meet the wall as your core engages with each rut.
Jake carefully moves his hand to adjust your leg out, aiming to get even deeper, but with the change in position, your foot makes contact with a nearby lamp, sending it careening to the floor, glass crushing upon impact. “You asshole-“
“Worry about it later,” he snarls, lips quickly capturing yours as his rhythm starts to falter. Each snap up makes your entire body bounce upward, your stomach beginning to tense.
“Jay-Jake,” you’re pulling from his lips, desperate to get air as you grow closer to your climax.
“I know, sweetheart, I’ll get you there, I’ll get you, cmon.” His statement isn’t even coherent at this point as your body reaches the threshold, your blood rushing through you as your legs shake under him, cries reverberating through the room with each grunt from the blonde under you. “Fuck, look at you, did I do that? I did that, didn’t I baby?” His breathing hitches, strokes becoming shorter as he matches your timing to draw your high out. An elongated groan pairs with the slight shake that runs through him, his forehead coming to your shoulder to come down from the high.
“You broke my lamp,” you mutter.
Jake just clicks his tongue. “It was your leg,” he responds, hands carefully grabbing under you, navigating around the broken glass to find refuge in your bed, away from the dangers on the hardwood below.
“You broke it.”
“Are we still on this? You know I should be hearing ‘wow, Jake. That was incredible, thank you for making me cum’.” He pulls your sheets back and carefully drops you onto your bed, your head plopping onto your pillow before he falls to your side. Both of you are still somewhat dressed, energy spent.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you retort with a smirk, looking at him as his eyebrows furrow.
“For someone who just got fucked you’re giving me a lot of back talk.” He’s pulling his slacks all the way off now, having been tugged down just enough to get the job done. You sit up carefully to pull your dress completely off. A yawn escapes you as you’re attempting to release the clasp of your bra, feeling hands coming to the spot at the middle of your back, worn fingertips carefully undoing it.
“You’ve been waiting to do that, haven’t you?” You look down at him, seeing a grin fill his face as the garment comes off and to the floor.
“Eh, the show I got might’ve been better.” Jake responds as his hand grabs at your sheets and covers the both of you.
“Since when is Hangman not a boob man?” you question as you settle into the sheets, looking him in the eye.
“Now, wait a minute, I never said that-“
“Go to bed, Jake.” You grin, rolling away from him, reaching and flicking off the light switch to the lamp in a pile on the floor.
█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █
Knock knock
You shoot up in your bed, his arm is lazily draped over your waist, making it fall as you sit up. When your brain registers, you’re quickly turning to a stirring Jake, your hand slapping over his mouth.
“Kody? You awake yet?” Penny’s voice comes from the other side of the wood door, leaving you to clear your throat.
“Yeah, I’m up.” You stifle back a yawn as Jake tries to get your attention. Using your free hand you slap his arm keeping him quiet.
“I need you to run and grab Amelia from Karen’s house, I have to get some cleaning done at the bar, things got a bit out of hand last night,” she explains and you nod.
“Sure, I can do that. That’s Karen M or Karen T?” you ask for clarification, slowly looking to the male in your bed, who’s just dying to get a word in.
“T. You know, the one on Silvershore?”
“Oh, yeah, that’s like ten minutes from here. Let me hop in the shower and I’ll run over.”
“Sounds good, thanks Kody.” Penny’s voice begins to fade as she walks away, leaving you to pull your hand from Jake’s jaw.
“Don’t mention it!” You’re looking over the state of your room, Hangman’s clothes are strewn about, glass all over the floor.
“Was that who I think it was?” Finally the pilot speaks beside you as you start to climb from your bed from the safest exit point.
“Penny? Yeah,” you answer, grabbing all of his clothes off the floor.
“You live with Penny Benjamin?” he questions, making you look at him with a sharp glare, hands pushing his clothes into his arms.
“Hey genius, my last name is also Benjamin,” you remind him as you grab your robe from a nearby chair. “She’s my aunt. I could’ve sworn you knew this,” you jab in his direction as he shrugs his shirt back on.
“Maybe I did, it probably got shoved- shit!” At the curse you look over and witness him examining one of the seams from his khaki trousers. “I broke the seam, damn it this is the only pair I was issued.” He groans, moving to stand up from the bed.
“Well maybe you should’ve thought about that before fucking me in them,” you scold, moving and undoing the latch on your window.
“What are you doing?” he asks, stepping into his pants, fastening the top as you slide the pane open.
“Preparing your exit - now hurry up?” You fan a hand in the air, trying to get him to move faster.
“Knockout, I am not climbing out of your window.”
“You don’t have much of a choice,” you sneer as he finishes buttoning up his shirt. With shoes back on his feet and ensuring he’s got the rest of his belongings, he points to what remains of the lamp.
“It was an ugly lamp anyways.” Jake shrugs, making you look at him with a slacked jaw.
“It’s Tiffany! Well-“ looking back at it, you correct yourself, “-it was. God, Pen’s gonna kill me,” you mumble with your hand over your mouth as you take a deeper look at the damage. There’s no salvaging it, that’s for sure.
“She named her lamp?” The idiotic question makes you turn to look at the man, one leg out the window, his hand gripping the top of it to keep him from falling.
“You don’t know- I don’t have time for this. Go.” You shoo him with your hands as though he was a loitering bird, making him snicker.
“I’ll call you?” Your attention was facing the door when he says it, making you look at him as he drops to the ground outside - thank God you’re on the main floor.
“What was that?” you ask again, just to make sure your ears weren’t playing tricks on you.
“I said I’ll call you,” Jake repeats before a hand rakes through his hair in an effort to tame any bed head.
There’s that stupid spark again that you have to stomp under your boot.
“Yeah. Get out of here, Hangman.” You give a falsified smile to him, watching as he starts down the path.
“Until next time, Knockout.” With a trademark wink, he rounds the corner of the house, leaving you to wonder if you’d made a mistake.
One time wouldn’t hurt - right?
█ ✪ █▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓█ ✪ █
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misconceptions
pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female!reader x bradley 'rooster' bradshaw (no use of y/n)
synopsis-
“You know, on account of your whole aggressively heterosexual, toxically masculine, 'I'm God’s gift to women' thing.”
Only Hangman is shameless enough to be offended at something so obvious. “I’m not aggressively heterosexual.”
warnings- 18+ minors DNI, (& glen don't read this shit please i'm embarrassed), allusions to previous threesome (m/f/f), voyeurism, implied threesome (f/m/m), public teasing, you prob shouldn't fuck in cars while they're moving bc seat belts/safety but this is self indulgent so let me live, fingering, edging, crying, praise kink, oral (f receiving), soft dom bradley, not so soft (but not really mean) jake, light dumbification/ degradation/ something along those lines, brat tamer boys, established rooster x reader relationship
length- 3.7k idk why my pwp is like this god help me when i finish something that's more than banter & smut again it'll be a billion words
an- I WAS working on something that didn't have smut but then miles posted that fucking picture- blame him. so here we go again...I don't...know what this is and i actually kind of hate it but i need it out of my brain. I'm sure rooster x hangman x reader has been done to death but I made an allusion to it in up to no good and well. yeah. so technically this is a sequel to that but you don't need to read that first because any illusion of plot in this is just a means for smut. *hides and blushes like a slut*
I want to say the entire premise of this is crack but my guy friends have convos like this at the bar all the time so who knows. I mean it's still ridiculous but...idk also the working title of this was bob fucks even though he's not even it and I thought that was amusing
“Knockout, five o’clock,” Payback mutters, looking behind you and Jake. “Looks like she’s got her sights set on you, Seresin.”
Jake manages a quick look over his shoulder, smirking when he turns back around because she is, in fact, gorgeous and beelining straight for his side of the table.
He rolls his shoulders back and winks at the group. You make a fake gagging noise purely out of reflex and nothing else, you swear, contemplating going up to the bar for another drink just so you don’t have to bear witness to this. You’re about to get up when you catch a very feminine hand out of the corner of your eye, going to tap you lightly on the shoulder.
“Hey,” the girl says, sidling up to you and immediately turning her back to Jake. “Where’s Bradley?”
Oh.
“Still on base,” you reply, quickly smiling in recognition. “It’s good to see you, Ash, you look good.”
“I’ll say,” Ashley answers, eyeing you up and down. She raises an eyebrow when her gaze gets to the hem of your sundress that’s resting a little high on your thigh. “I’m in town for a few days, come find me later if he makes it up here tonight.”
You duck your head, fighting the blush rising up your neck. “Maybe, I’ll let you know.”
“Please do.” Ashley winks, running her hand down your arm to the inside of your wrist, just this side of too familiar. She gives you a quick squeeze with delicate fingers and you hope no one notices the goosebumps raising on your arms before she turns on her heel to disappear back into the crowd.
You stare decidedly at your beer after Ashley saunters away, feeling everyone’s eyes on you and wanting to avoid this conversation as long as possible.
When you finally look up Phoenix is clearly fighting back a giggle, but her eyes are directed to the right of you, at Hangman.
“What the fuck was that?” He finally croaks after a few beats of awkward silence, mouth dry.
Phoenix reaches over to smack him upside the head. “You can’t really be this stupid.”
Jake is pretty sure he isn’t but he’s also kind of thinks he might be having a stroke.
“Always thought you guys were so boring,” he says dumbly, mouth agape.
Phoenix sighs, like she can’t comprehend how she ended up surrounded by so little intelligence, leaning over again to close Jake’s jaw. “Don’t mind him, up until two minutes ago he thought you and Rooster only banged in missionary.”
You blink.
You can’t believe that just came out of her mouth so casually.
You’re going to kill Rooster for not being here to endure this with you.
“Why…have you been speculating about how Rooster and I fuck?” You ask finally, slowly, pretty sure you don’t want to know the answer. Lack of self-preservation makes you ask anyways.
“Well, there had to be some sort of explanation for why it’s so easy for you to rile him up,” Jake declares, voice going a little high.
Huh.
Terrible logic but you suppose that could’ve been worse.
Still. This is a discussion you have negative interest in having. In public. With all your friends right here. With Hangman, of all people.
“Can we talk about something else? Like, literally anything else?” You don't want to beg, but this entire conversation is making your leg twitch.
“Nope,” Payback answers immediately. “We need more information.”
“We have questions,” Fanboy concurs.
You want to crawl under the table.
“I have questions too,” you shoot back instead, figuring you'll try going on the offensive. “Why do you guys want to know about our sex life? Because I’ve heard way too much from your girlfriends and I now have to live with that horrifying knowledge for the rest of my life. Why would you want those details voluntarily?”
Phoenix hums in agreement and you’re overwhelmed with the urge to hug her.
“Is that right, sweets?” Jake grins, clearly having recovered somewhat.
“Not you, Jake," you shoot back. "Thank God you haven’t dated anyone long enough for me to become friends with her.”
You studiously do not mention that he’s probably the only one you might welcome salacious details about.
“Because the rest of us aren’t having threesomes,” Payback adds, ignoring the blonde. “We’re jealous.”
You cough, averting eye contact. “Well, some of you are.”
They’re all staring at you again and you shrug. “Look, Bob fucks, not my fault the rest of you don’t.”
Jake has hit Ctrl-Alt-Delete on his temporary recovery, chunked the laptop that operates his brain out the window, and is now definitely having a stroke.
“You…and Bob?”
You scrub your hand across your face, not sure how much more of this high-pitched Hangman you can handle tonight. It’s making you edgy. “Not with me. Keep it together, pretty boy.”
Normally, you’d rejoice in the slight pink tinge gracing Jake’s cheekbones when you call him pretty boy, in one upping Hangman for a second, even if you’re the only one that notices. Tonight, it only scatters anxiety through your bloodstream.
At this point you decide to just get up and leave the table. It’s probably for the best.
“Are you gonna make it?” Phoenix asks Jake after you’ve made your way to the bar.
“No,” he answers petulantly.
•••
Hangman looks decidedly more like his usual self lounging across from you and Rooster in the booth you've taken to hiding in and you're silently thanking the whiskey he's switched to for it.
He's a pain in the ass, sure, but when he's not bantering with you, you're not even sure what to do with him. Shrill is not a word you thought you'd ever have to use to describe him, you're practically trembling at the memory of it.
All that means you're smiling, a little wicked, while you lean into the warmth of Rooster’s body. “Don’t worry, Hang, no one expects you to have a threesome unless it’s with two other girls.”
His eyes nearly bulge out of his head and you bite back a snicker. Direct hit. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
When you’re pretty sure you’re not going to laugh directly in his face, you wave your hand dismissively, hoping the wild hand gesture captures Jake’s whole air. “You know, on account of your whole aggressively heterosexual, toxically masculine, ‘I’m God’s gift to women’ thing.”
Only Hangman is shameless enough to be offended at something so obvious. “I’m not aggressively heterosexual.”
“Twenty bucks your tongue is down some poor girls throat by the end of the night.”
“That’s called having game,” he retorts. “I’ll have you know I’m a very enlightened man. Good to know you pay so much attention to my conquests though, sweets.”
He winks and you immediately wonder why you were grateful for his mood shift.
“Conquests, seriously?” You fight back a gag. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Jake.”
You hope the use of his real name emphasizes your disappointment in him.
Rooster’s gaze is flitting back and forth between you two like he’s watching a tennis match, expression calculating. “I don’t know that I feel like calling Ashley tonight.”
Both of your mouths snap shut when you register what he just said.
Where did that come from?
“Well, that figures, little bird. I’m surprised you knew what to do with both of them the first time around.” Hangman grins around his glass before taking another sip of whiskey.
Rooster rolls his eyes, but otherwise waves off the dig. “I just think there’s something else princess might enjoy a little more.”
You immediately feel heat rising to your cheeks. That explains his abrupt timing.
“Rooster,” you manage to grit out, warning in your tone as you tighten your fingers on his thigh.
He ignores you, because he knows you. Knows what you secretly want, what you’re too embarrassed to say out loud, too proud to admit. If you weren't so busy being uncomfortable you'd have warmth spreading through your chest at the knowledge that he just wants to take care of you, give you what you need.
Rooster runs his hand up your bare thigh, playing with the hem of your dress, and it sends a jolt of electricity through you before immediately blowing a fuse in your willpower.
“Come on, baby," he murmurs. "Don’t you want to tell him what we talked about the other day? After the beach?”
Crimson is painting itself across your cheekbones, you’re sure of it.
Recognition crosses Hangman’s face and he clears his throat, which is suddenly dry.
“Talk about me a lot while you’re fucking your girl, Bradshaw?” He taunts, but there’s something thick in his voice, something rapidly glazing over his bright eyes.
“Rooster,” you say again, but this time it comes out a little whinier, a little more abashed.
“Baby, it’s okay,” Rooster soothes you, gentle and doting, because he always knows how to make you melt like butter. “I see how he looks at you.”
Hangman fiddles with the rim of his rocks glass, but he doesn’t deny it.
If you were more present in this moment, if you weren’t so distracted by the need suddenly, insistently thrumming through your body, by Rooster’s hand burning on your thigh; you might be amused at this role reversal, Rooster calm, collected and bordering on cocky, while Hangman shifts across from you, curiosity making him jumpy in his seat.
Rooster’s mustache tickles your cheek as he runs his mouth across you, mouth moving to latch onto the sensitive spot below your ear. Your lips part of their own accord as you feel him move his hand under the skirt of your dress, brushing his knuckles against where you’re already soaking through your panties.
Meeting the green eyes across from you feels hot like burning and you tuck your face into Rooster’s neck to hide from it, biting your lip to keep from letting out the truly obscene noise that’s bubbling in your chest. “Can we please go home, babe?”
He chuckles, hooking a finger under your chin so you’re forced to meet his gaze, tilting his head in the direction of the man across from you. “That depends. Are you gonna be a good girl for him, baby?”
Well, Rooster certainly isn't waiting patiently on his perch tonight then, is he?
Your breath hitches, everything in your body going still for a moment when you hear him, before words come tumbling out of your mouth.
“Yes, yes, yes, I promise, Bradley, please,” you whine softly, fingers gripping the edge of his open shirt, looking for something, anything to keep you grounded.
“Jesus,” you hear faintly from the other side of the table. When you look up you catch Jake’s eyes, pupils blown so wide they’re practically black.
Your boyfriend’s lips twitch upwards, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s turned towards the blonde, while his fingers continue running up and down your clothed slit. “Gorgeous like this, isn’t she?”
“Christ, Bradshaw. Understatement of the year. What a nice surprise this is.”
“Only gets better the more you tease her,” he promises.
“I’m right here,” you protest, narrowing your eyes at the two men. You’re aiming for annoyed but you’re pretty sure the words come out petulant instead. If you were standing you might even stomp your foot.
“I’m so sorry, baby. Are you feeling a little ignored?” Bradley coos with a quick peck to your cheek, hint of condescension in his tone.
Jake shoots you a wicked grin, mischief lighting up his face. “Should’ve known you’d be a fuckin’ brat.”
“Bratty girls don’t deserve to get what they want, do they?” Bradley asks Jake, but his eyes are on you.
You pout, looking up at him and trying to look as cute as possible, hoping an innocent expression might get you out of this little predicament.
It usually works on Bradley, but Jake just snickers from his side of the booth.
“No, they don’t. Not sure they deserve to wear panties either.”
“The man makes a good point,” Bradley agrees, tearing his attention from your imploring eyes.
Distantly, you’re glad he’s angled his body to block you from the rest of the bar, because Bradley is working baby blue lace down your hips, lifting you slightly in the process, before settling you back down with your feet in Jake’s lap under the table.
Jake sends a cheeky wink your direction as his hand runs up the inside of your leg, squeezing your calf, then thigh in a way that could really only be described as affectionate, which sends shivers down your body right to your core. He pulls your panties the rest of the way down, letting you catch a glimpse of his fingers running over them before he puts them in his pocket.
“Drenched those, didn’t you darlin’?” He drawls, as he stares you dead in the eyes and licks your slick from his fingers.
Your mouth drops open of its own accord and before you even have a chance to recover you feel fingers pressing against your bundle of nerves. Thankfully, Bradley kisses you a moment later, swallowing the moan that leaves your lips. “Shh, we don’t want everyone to hear, do we?”
“Fuck, she’d probably like that, wouldn't she?”
You blink slowly, eyes struggling to focus as they move between the two men.
Bradley smirks. “Poor baby, lost your words already?”
Your brain has been wiped clean so you can only mewl quietly in response.
“Think she might be obedient enough to go, now,” Jake offers.
You’re pretty sure you look drunk as you stumble outside, Bradley supporting you with an arm around your waist, nearly carrying you out.
When you reach the car, he turns to deposit you into the other man's arms. “Just don’t let her come till we get home, yeah?”
Jake grins. “Sure thing, Bradshaw.”
The moment you’re in the back of the Bronco Jake is all over you, pulling you in for a rough kiss.
He manhandles you onto his lap, pulling your back against his front as his hand slides up to your jaw, forcing your attention to Bradley in the driver’s seat.
You meet Bradley’s stare in the rearview mirror, and he grins, clearly enjoying how debauched you look in Jake’s lap, as much as he can while driving, anyways. Your mouth parts as Jake trails his down the side of your neck, across your shoulder, leaving red bite marks as he goes.
You’re thinking about how powerful Jake looks behind you, completely unbothered by your boyfriend’s eyes constantly darting from the road to the mirror to watch you both, when his hand slides underneath your dress, bunching it up and out of his way, leaving you bare against his pants.
“Fuck,” Jake groans, fingers flicking expertly at your entrance. “You’re so fucking wet, sweetheart.”
You can’t help but blush, head ducking down as you focus on the wispy material of your dress falling haphazardly off your chest, breaking your gaze from the front of the car.
“Jake,” you whimper, grinding back onto his lap.
He clucks a noise of disapproval and your stomach rolls unpleasantly at the idea that you’ve disappointed him already. “Let him watch your pretty mouth moan my name, sugar.”
You snap your head back up at his words, rushing to comply, rushing to be good, only to meet cheeky, dark eyes in the mirror. Your mouth drops open as Jake eases a finger into you, gaze fixed on Bradley as heat washes over you.
Jake adds another finger, and then twists, while his thumb rubs insistent figure eights along your aching clit. If you had any sense, you might be bashful at how your legs are already shaking where they’re bracketed around his.
You vaguely remember Bradley’s instructions before getting in the car, but you can’t help the pleading falling from your lips anyways.
“Wanna come, Jake, please, please, need it,” you whine, squirming in his lap, on his fingers, against the bruising hold his other hand has on your hip. You can’t get comfortable, can’t stop moving, it’s not enough, you need more.
He chuckles, the sound mocking, bordering on mean, and you can’t help but shudder at the way it shoots heat right through you.
“I could let you come all over my fingers,” he muses languidly, pressing slow circles on your clit, like you have all the time in the world in the back of Bradley’s bronco. The yes, please, is on the tip of your tongue when he continues, words hot in your ear. “Or I could edge you with my mouth until you cry.”
You and Bradley suck in simultaneous sharp breaths at Jake’s words and you can practically feel the amusement radiating from him.
“Sweetheart, you gonna tell me what you want?”
You’re biting your lip to keep the obscene noises threatening to tear from you muffled, teeth so tight on your swollen lip you’re surprised you haven’t drawn blood.
His fingers still after a few torturous seconds of you attempting to remember how to make decisions. You could do that, at one point in your life, you think.
“Asked you a question.”
Frustrated, your eyebrows knit together as you try to form words. “Jake.”
He grazes his teeth across your neck, and you can feel that infamous smirk against your skin. “As pretty as you sound saying it, my name is not the answer.”
“I…fuck, Jake, I don’t—” you mewl brokenly, hands going to his arms, pushing, gripping, hoping you can get him to move again, give you what you need.
“Seem to remember you promising you’d be good for me.” Jake continues, as if you haven’t spoken at all and there’s a steely edge in his tone that sends another wave of heat straight to your core.
“Sorry, sorry, Jake please, sorry, can be, I swear,” you babble. Your voice sounds foreign to you, high and whiny like it might crack and break if you don’t get his approval.
“Be a good girl and tell me what you want, then.”
You’re flushing with embarrassment at this, you know what you want, but it doesn’t make your cheeks flame any less to have to admit it. “Your mouth, please, Jake need your mouth on me…”
“Good choice, darlin’,” he murmurs, lifting you up and laying you down on your back as he bends to put your legs over his shoulders, kneeling impossibly in the backseat. “Knew a slutty little thing like you wouldn’t be satisfied until you were wrecked.”
He must be really flexible, you think helplessly, before his tongue licks a stripe up your slit and drives every other remaining thought from your body.
He works those thick fingers into you again, curling them at the same time he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.
Your back arches involuntarily, stars suddenly dancing across your vision. Worked up as you are he brings you to the edge quickly, and you stupidly think he might actually let you go over.
Just as your whines are hitting their crescendo, just when you’re so close you can practically taste it—he pulls back, mouth suddenly moving down your hip, away from where you want him, fingers retreating to leave you clenching around nothing. The noise you make in response is obscenely close to a wail, bringing tears to your eyes.
You blink them back hard, determined not to let Jake win so quickly.
He nips the inside of your thigh, making you spasm in surprise. As soon as you’ve come down from the sheer disappointment and not a second later, he’s back on you, lips and fingers working determinedly to wind you up again.
Jake continues his little routine, one, two, three more times until you’re sobbing, unable to hold the tears back as they leak from the corners of your eyes. Your hands are tight in his hair, trying to keep his mouth on you, terrified of him stopping and leaving you frustrated and aching again.
Hazily, you’re aware that the car isn’t moving anymore, that if you turn your head a little to the left you can see Bradley biting his lips and white knuckling the steering wheel, eyes fixed on you in the mirror still. That there’s nonsense pouring from your mouth in between the cries, as you writhe against Jake’s face, I need, Jake please, please, I can’t, Jakejakejake, I—
“You can let go for him, baby.” You hear Bradley’s deep voice cutting through the fog in your mind.
His words tingle across your skin, at the tip of every nerve ending, as your muscles start contracting, giving in to what you’ve been begging for since you got in the car. It crashes into you, an avalanche rumbling through your body, back arching in a moment of pure perfection. And all that’s left is a glowing, fuzzy feeling, warmth spreading through your chest like you just finished a shot of whiskey.
“Jesus,” Jake whispers as you come down, mouth trailing softly up your stomach, your chest and across your jaw, to brush your lips. “Fuck, sweetheart, such a good girl for me.” His words are muffled as you taste the tang of yourself on his mouth and wrecked as you are you still preen at his praise.
The driver’s side door opens and shuts with a definitive thud, pulling you and Jake out of your stupor. He gives you one last peck before dragging your dress back down, although you suffer from no misconceptions that it’ll help you look any less debauched.
You let yourself be tugged out of the car and into Jake’s arms, limbs leaden and slow on your way to your front door as your brain catches up with your body. You list against him, eyes fluttering closed as Bradley digs around for his keys. Once he opens the door he turns to you, smirking at the dazed expression washed over your features, the lazy blinks as you try to focus your eyes.
“Aw, baby, you can’t be tired already,” Bradley coos, reaching up to hold your face and affectionately running his thumbs over your cheekbones, wiping away any errant tears. “We’re just getting started.”
#my favorite thing in this whole wide world is hangman banter can you tell or#yes I said Jake CHUNKED it because I've lived in Texas for 10 years now and don't understand why texans say that still it's so weird to me#hangman x you#hangman x reader#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#jake hangman seresin#hangman smut#hangman top gun#jake seresin smut#jake seresin#jake seresin fanfiction#bradley bradshaw smut#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#rooster x hangman x reader#Bradley Bradshaw x Jake seresin x reader#Bradley Bradshaw x you#Bradley rooster bradshaw x you#rooster x reader#rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster smut#rooster x you#rooster x reader x hangman#hangman x reader x rooster
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We're Even Now, Are We? (Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader)
Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Kazansky!Reader
Summary: After years of being in competition with each other, both of you realize that there was more to your tension than what meets the eye.
Warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of death, Swearing, poorly-used naval aviation words and phrases, changed some details about the story and i'm screaming praying and hoping that it doesn't ruin the story, this was dragged on for so long and idk if this makes sense anymore i'm just gonna publish it for the sake of my mental health.
Words: 5,539
Author's note: This is the first work that I have that I've decided to post. Please bear with the plot and grammatical mistakes. I whipped this up from my brain at the last minute before deciding to write it down. English isn't my first language and I had no one to proofread this for me so, yeah. Hope you enjoy it!
Callsign: Knockout
"What do we have here," Hangman greets Phoenix as she walks toward the pool alley, behind her were two unfamiliar men. "And here I thought we were special, Coyote, turns out the invite went to everyone."
Phoenix replied with a scoff as she turned her head to the side. "Fellas, this here's Bagman."
"Hangman."He quickly corrected as he leaned on the pool table.
"Fanboy and Payback, newest recruits, "Phoenix added. Both men nodded to Coyote and Hangman. Phoenix turns to look at the man who's eating peanuts on the bench beside the pool table.
The man introduced himself as Bob, who turned out to be Phoenix's new backseater. Phoenix then ran to greet Rooster, who came in too late when everyone was doing introductions. Unlike everyone, he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a white tanktop, and casual jeans.
After Hangman and Rooster's passive-aggressive conversation, Phoenix suddenly remembered something. "Is this all of us? Everyone here is the best there is, why isn't Kazansky here with us?"
Hangman grinned at the question. "Maybe she isn't as good as you think she is, Phoenix. The invitation can't go to just anyone, you know."
Phoenix scoffed at his remark. "Kazansky graduated at the top of the class with you and she's the only TOP GUN graduate of our generation with 3 confirmed air combat kills. If those aren't good, then I don't know what is."
"Missed me that much, Trace?" All heads turned towards the doorway. Phoenix came running towards you with a huge smile. You welcomed her with open arms as she hugged you tight.
"Damn it, Kazansky. I knew you'd make it." She broke the hug and wrapped her arms around your waist. You turned your eyes towards Rooster who stood to greet you as well.
"Bradshaw, glad to see you." You shook his hand as he shook yours, returning an acknowledging smile at you.
You then turned to Fanboy, Bob, and Payback to greet them. As you turned around, you've seen a fair share of new faces and a bunch of familiar ones, too. But your eyes never failed to notice the cocky blonde man leaning by the pool table, smirking in your direction.
"Kazansky, as I live and breathe." Hangman greeted. You smirked at his snarky tone. You walked closer to the table, grabbing a lone cue stick at the side as you sought a random ball at the pool table.
"Hangman. I honestly thought I'd seen the last of you, but here we are."
Hangman wore a smug grin on his face. "Seems like destiny couldn't just pull us apart, honey." You chuckled at his remark, pulling an eight-point score on the game as you bent up to wait for his turn to play.
"I know, but you'd like that, wouldn't you? I mean, you'll have to keep seeing me if you want to get ahead of me." You gave him a sweet smile, an annoying one at that on his part. He was still grinning at you, but he slightly squinted at the mischievous glint in your eyes.
"That's your excuse for telling me that you want me around you, Kazansky? That is very unlike you." Hangman's smirk got wider as he tilted his head to look into your eyes. Everyone around you was just staring at the both of you, enjoying the little show you and Hangman were putting on.
This was like a routine since you and Jake made it in highschool. You fought a lot about who was better than the other and always ended up tying at everything you both did.
"Oh, I'd only want top pilots around and you aren't on that list," You trailed, walking closer to him as you rubbed some chalk at the tip of your cue stick.
"But you're almost there, Bagman. 2 more confirmed kills and maybe you'll catch up." You added, placing your cue stick at the side as you tapped his chest with your palms, attempting to straighten the crumpled edges of his khaki service uniform.
He looked down at you, still with a grin, before you turned your back from him and made your way to the bar. You grabbed a lone bottle of cold beer as you made your way to a familiar man. "Long time no see, Uncle Mav," You greeted as you hopped on to sit on the chair beside him.
"Y/N? Look at you, you're all grown up now!" Maverick beamed at you as he took a minute to take your presence all in.
Maverick used to babysit you back when you were still a child. From what you have heard, he and your Dad shared a special bond because of a mission that they did 30 years ago. For that reason, Maverick also considered you as his own and taught you everything you had to know about everything -- including aviation.
"So, 3 confirmed kills within your stay at TOP GUN. Congratulations, kid. I'm proud of you." He tapped your shoulder as he smiled at you.
"Thanks," You replied. "What brings you here at North Island?"
"Well, you know," He shrugged. You already knew the answer to that.
"Yeah, you pissed off yet another Admiral. What's the punishment this time?"
"I don't know yet, I think I'll know by tomorrow. What about you? I thought you were stationed in Iran?"
"I got a call from TOP GUN. They want me to do a mission with the others," You pointed at the pool alley. Maverick nodded in response. You got off the chair and tapped his back.
"I heard you're paying for a round? Thanks, Uncle Mav. See you around." You headed to the exit as you hurriedly got on your motorbike, heading towards your parents' house.
******
"Took you long enough to visit me," Your Dad typed. You gave him an apologetic smile before giving him a hug. You quickly pulled a chair as you sat in front of him.
"I got a call from TOP GUN to do a mission, Dad."
He nodded before proceeding to type again. "If it weren't for the mission, would you have come?"
You reached for his hand and gave him a smile. "If you told me to go home, I would have flown right away to see you, Dad." Your brows furrowed. "Dad, don't tell me you were the one who called me."
He immediately shook his head as he turned to type. "The navy sees to it that they only call the best. It's a good thing that you are. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to see you."
Your eyes watered at the reply but you tried your best not to show it."Thanks, Dad. I'll come by to see you again soon. I only have a few more minutes 'till curfew."
He typed again. "You got an Admiral for a Dad and yet you're scared of breaking the curfew?"
You chuckled lightly at his response. "Oh, Dad." You then gave him a tight hug. He nodded in acknowledgment before you left.
******
After Rear Admiral Bates introduced Maverick, all of you had to do a dogfight exercise. When the first batch was done and was subjected to 200 push-ups, You, Hangman, Phoenix, and Bob were next to go up against Maverick. As his mentee when you were still 17 and learning, you were aware of how good Maverick was in his expertise. It made you nervous, but all you had to do was apply what he and your Dad had taught you. After all, you only learned from the best.
Still, even with the applied training that you had, Maverick got the best of all of you. "See you at the base and get ready for your pushups," Maverick says before he navigates away from all of you. Just as when you were about to fly back to the base, you detected a bogey on your radar.
"Phoenix, there's a bogey on my radar. Do you see him?"
"Positive, Knockout. Talk to me, Bob. How close?"
"10 miles and six o'clock low, Phoenix."
"Ignore it, let's return to base immediately--" Your words were cut off by a beep emitting from Phoenix and Bob's radio pulse control, signaling they were put under missile lock.
You saw two more bogeys on your radar. "Shit, bandits. Hangman, cover them!" No response. It took you a minute to realize that he had already left right when Maverick did. Damn him!
"Break right, Phoenix! Avoid them for as long as you can." You said before breaking left to distract the other bogeys. You then successfully chased off one bandit before calling for backup. Good thing Maverick came in time to scare off the rest of the bogeys as he escorted the rest of you back to the base.
As soon as all of you landed, you got off your plane and looked for Hangman. And there he was already on his black shirt, laughing with Coyote as if nothing happened.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" You carelessly threw your helmet to the ground as you walked toward him, fuming in pure anger. You stopped as he stood still, looking down at you with a smug grin as if he didn't just risk two lives to save himself during a close encounter with an enemy aircraft that thankfully didn't result in dogfighting.
"What do you want, sunshine?" He asked, shifting the toothpick on his lips as he placed his hands on both of his pockets. You scoffed and shook your head in disbelief. Did he honestly not care about what he did?!
"You left Phoenix and BoB hanging while they were being chased by an enemy aircraft! They could have been bombed up there!" You growled. Hangman was being insufferable right now. Everyone knew how hell-bent he was on being the best of the best to be picked by Maverick as the Team Leader, but he didn't have to go THAT far. Fuck him, he couldn't even help his wingmen when they were in danger!
"I didn't really hear anything, sweets. They could have hollered, but they didn't."He replied with a patronizing smile and a sarcastic voice as though he was talking to a child. .
That was it. You pushed his chest in anger, earning a grip on both of your arms from Phoenix and Bob. "It's fine, (Y/N). It's not like you'll change whatever is going on inside of his damn head."
You sighed in exasperation, shaking the grips off of your arms as you smirked. "You wanna know something, Hangman?" He tilted his head in wonder, taking a step toward you.
"What's that?"
You took a step even closer, feeling his peppermint breath on your lips. "As long as I am here, you will never be the team leader." You replied, mimicking his patronizing smile as you glared at him before you dragged Phoenix and Bob away from the scene.
Hangman clenched his jaw as he took a deep breath to calm himself down. He turned to kick the chair beside him as he watched it move to the other side of the briefing room. Coyote sighed as he shook his head, grabbing the nearest seat in his range.
"Honestly, that was a douchey move you did up there, Jake. She actually has a point more than you care to admit."
Hangman grinned in disbelief as he scoffed. He grabbed his leather jacket from the seat as he headed towards the door. "I don't fucking need that right now, Coyote."
****
Through the years, you learned how to push his buttons. You and Jake knew each other since middle school. He always rivaled you at anything academic. The cycle went on until both of you went to college, flight school, and admission to TOPGUN.
His hatred towards you flared, even more, when he found out that you were the only daughter of the Admiral and head of the US Pacific Fleet. He believed that your admission to TOPGUN was purely based on Admiral Kazansky's influence and position, not because you had earned that spot with nothing but your hard-earned credentials and competency. That's what he made people believe.
That's a factor, though. You were told how much you flew like your father; ice cold, no mistakes. It made people give you the benefit of the doubt.
But you honestly didn't give a shit about what he'd say. You made it a routine not to lose your patience over trivial matters--especially when it came to Hangman's bullshit. You knew how it sent him over the moon when you show a reaction to whatever he says, and your pride cannot afford to give him that kind of satisfaction.
However, your rivalry with Hangman stuck out like a sore thumb every flight practice. He'd chase you like a madman in the wind in an attempt to put you under missile lock to ruin your day until he doesn't since you always outdo him. The other aviators would just shrug when they hear Hangman swear over the radio.
You even earned your callsign, "Knockout" because of him.
"What did you just say?" You turned in his direction, still in disbelief about what you have just heard.
"I said, it's such a shame that your brain is not as big as your ass---" Unable to hold it in, you gave him a powerful right hook on his cheek to knock the stupid grin off of his face, causing him to land unconscious on the ground.
"Fucking asshole." You growled under your breath as you sent him a death glare while he lays flat on the ground. You didn't care about anything you valued at that moment. Assault as a ground for expulsion? humiliation to your father's honorable name? You couldn't care less. All you wanted was to give this bastard a good talking to through your fist.
In the corner stood the Navy Commander who watched the whole thing unfold. "Lieutenant Kazansky and...can someone please carry Lieutenant Seresin into my office, NOW!"
"In this institution, we do not condone violence. I believe your father must have taught you about that already, Lieutenant Kazansky." The Navy Commander said as he leaned on his chair, taking a good look at both of you.
"My father also taught me not to tolerate disrespect, sir. I only did what I thought was best for the situation...Sir." You replied, looking straight into the office's blinds, not meeting the Navy Commander's glare. He sighed as he assessed the situation.
Hangman on the other hand was busy sulking while he held an icepack on the bruise he got a while ago. "Fine. Here's what we'll do," The Navy Commander stood from his seat as he made his way in front of his desk so he could be much closer to the both of you.
He pointed at you. "Your official callsign from now on will be Knockout," He then turned to Hangman. "That will serve as punishment for you, Lieutenant Seresin. You call her callsign, and you'll be reminded of the humiliation caused by the punch she gave you. Do this again, the both of you, and I'll be forced to resort to disciplinary action. Am I understood?" He pointed at both of you.
"Yes, Sir!" You both said in sync.
"Dismissed."
That's when he started to refuse to call you by your callsign.
*****
"Another pint, go easy on the foam."
Penny looks at Hangman with a curious gaze as she nods, grabbing his empty glass to refill it. "That's three in a row. Bad day?"
"I just like drinking. Does that count?"
"You know what, I'm just not gonna ask." Penny shook her head as she placed the refilled pint in front of him before she proceeded to accommodate her customers.
Hangman grabbed his mug and chugged half of its content, sighing loudly before wiping the foam off his lips. He was pissed, alright. After musing for a few hours, he finally admitted to himself that you actually had a point; he never should have done that.
He hated that you were right. You were always there to rub it in his face whenever you had a chance. Hangman frowned at the thought, grabbing his mug to drink again.
"As long as I am here, you will never be the team leader."
He slammed the empty glass on the counter as he hung his head low in anger. What you said wasn't half as bad as what he would hear from the other aviators. In fact, even if he did hear something, it wouldn't really matter to him since he knew what he was capable of.
But what you said, struck him like lightning. It clung to his brain like a leech, your words on repeat in his head.
The door chime made a sound, snapping Hangman out of his thoughts. He turned his head at the doorway to see you, Phoenix, Bob, and Rooster. At his gaze, only you stood out.
You were in your typical black leather jacket, jeans, and white shoes. Your hair wasn't in a bun like you would always wear it and it hung beautifully on your shoulders and back.
Hangman, for some reason, watched your every move. The way you used your fingers to comb your hair back, the way you laughed at what Rooster said, and most importantly, why the hell were you smiling like that?
Seeming to have heard his own thoughts, Hangman groaned as he shook his head in an attempt to get himself together. At that moment, he figured it was all nonsense and it was just the repressed rage and alcohol talking.
"Put it on my tab, Pen," Hangman announced before hopping off his seat as he headed towards the pool alley.
"Hey, Man. I've been looking all over for you. Let's go play some pool." Coyote tapped his back and handed him his beer and his signature cue stick. Hangman slightly squints at the sight of you as he made his way towards the side of the pool table where you and Rooster were currently standing.
Good God, what now? You thought.
Rooster sighed in apparent displeasure at the sight of him. "Hangman."
Hangman tilted his head in acknowledgment as he smirked. "Rooster."
You rolled your eyes and sighed, turning your attention to Phoenix who was holding a couple of bottled beers. You decided to help her instead of staying in the same presence as Hangman because you might not be able to resist the urge to punch his stupid face.
Hangman gave you a quick glance before turning his eyes back onto Rooster's who was looking back at his eyes suspiciously as if he was checking if he was plotting something bad. "A round?"
Rooster shook his head. "I'll pass. I'm suddenly not in the mood to play anymore."
Hangman shrugged as he grinned. "Always keeping it safe is not a good thing, Bradshaw." Hearing him say this made you roll your eyes again.
"I'll keep that in mind, Seresin. Go play with your balls." Rooster replied as he leaned his cue stick by the table as he headed to the piano.
Phoenix stood up from her seat. "Looks like Rooster's playing." You turned your head towards the stage to see Rooster warming up by the piano. You smiled as you got up from your seat, grabbing Phoenix by the arm to head by the side of the piano.
Rooster was good at performing and it always helped with stress if you sang along while he played. After all, you needed to be entertained, to keep your mind off of things, and forget your unbridled rage toward Hangman.
Bob, Fanboy, and Payback followed the both of you to join the little musical Rooster has set up, too.
As Rooster started performing, people started to cheer and gather around the stage.
Hangman suddenly wanted out of the game, so he made an excuse. "You guys go ahead. I'll be at the counter. I need more drinks." He walked out of the pool alley without waiting for their replies, desperate to see more of the performance up close.
Hangman knew he wasn't supposed to care about this little 'ensemble', but he couldn't help himself. He mindlessly ordered a pint of beer as he never took his eyes off of the stage...and you.
You sang along Rooster as you vibed joyously with the song. The sight of your beautiful smile, which he's never seen before, and your incandescent presence took him a minute or two to realize that he wasn't breathing for a moment.
Hangman's brows furrowed in realization. He can't be. Fuck, this is not happening, he thought. He chugged the rest of the beer on his hand as he ordered one after another, attempting to drown the unsolicited thoughts that he has about you.
As the song came to an end, so did Hangman's little drinking spree. He drank those pints pretty fast, even Penny was surprised at the speed. Good thing he didn't get drunk and risk word-vomiting shit he wouldn't even dare say if he was sober.
Hangman decided to call it a night, leaving the bar without saying goodbye to any of you. All that he wanted at that moment was to go home and think for the rest of the night.
***
It had been almost 3 weeks since the training started. All of you were briefed on the terrain that you were expected to encounter before the mission starts. Although distracted, Hangman was a lot more focused than he had expected. The thought of you in such light was also buried at the back of his mind because of the mission.
After the whole brawl with Rooster and Hangman, you got a call from your mom telling you to come home immediately. You already knew what it was all about. You immediately gave Maverick a heads up before leaving the base. The last time you came to visit him, he was already in a bad state. What could have possibly gone wrong?
"Hang in there, Dad. I'm coming." You whispered as you drove fast to your house.
The moment you got there, your mom came running to you in tears. "He's gone, sweetheart. He's gone." She sobbed in your arms as you tried to process everything she had just said. You shook your head in denial, holding both of your mother's arms as you looked into her eyes.
"No, he isn't, Mom. I-I still have to--I promised him I'd see him soon, he wouldn't just leave like that."Tears welled up in your eyes as you fought your way to your Dad's room.
There he was, laying cold and peaceful on his bed. "Daddy? I've come to see you now." You kneeled at the side of the bed as you held his cold hands in your warm ones.
Seeing your Dad, the best and the ever-strong fighter pilot you have always admired in this state made you sob uncontrollably. He's gone, he's really gone now.
You felt a hand on your shoulder. "He told me to tell you that he was proud of you, although he thought you already knew, he still wanted to tell you that before he left." That didn't help your grief as your chest tightened even more and your sobs grew even louder.
That night, you cried yourself to sleep at your Dad's office as you hugged the brown bear you used to play with when you were young that he kept as a decoration on his table next to your picture. You fell asleep wishing that he'd still be there to hug you in times like this.
Everyone was notified of the news. Admiral Kazansky's death shook lots of hearts that he inspired and people who admired him. To say that Maverick was devastated was an understatement. One of the greatest friends that he had was gone and it felt like the loss he felt with Goose all over again. The rest of the aviators were saddened at the news, too.
As soon as the news came out, you were the first person who came into Jake's mind. He and the other aviators helped with the preparations for the burial of Admiral Kazansky as you chose to stay at your house and be within the presence left by your Dad for one last time.
You stood motionless as your tears streamed down your cheeks while the ceremony carried on. Jake, on the other hand, never removed his eyes from you. His eyes softened at the sight of your grieving state. You looked so broken and pained that he felt uneasy as he was used to your ice-cold, sarcastic demeanor.
After the burial, they were tasked to go back to base, but Jake decided to break the rules for once and stay behind. He went to look for you and he found you by your father's grave, kneeling in front of it as you touched the cold gravestone.
You felt a presence behind you as you looked back to see who it was. "What are you doing here? I don't want to deal with you right now, Hangman."
Jake sighed as he bowed his head in response. "I'm not here to make fun of you," He took a step closer, "Your father was a great man, though I didn't know him that much...I'll be here if you need me." He says as he sat on the grass beside you.
Your tears started falling again as you sobbed. You didn't care anymore if he found you weak for that. You wanted to grieve until the pain subsides. "He told me he was proud of me, Jake,"
"But he was so impatient as always that he couldn't even wait for me to come back for him to say it to me personally. I hate him.." You fell to the ground, your hand leaning on his gravestone as you wept uncontrollably.
Jake couldn't remember the last time he saw you in this kind of state. Or you just never have experienced this before. You were always so strong and resilient that Jake once told himself that making you cry would be an achievement. But seeing you like this, a mess from crying for hours, it made him feel like he had lost something, too.
He tapped your back gently to comfort you as you fell into his arms, bawling your eyes out as both of you remained like that for hours.
*****
Weeks have passed since the death of your Dad. The pain was still there, but it was bearable enough for you to get some sleep at night. Sadly, you weren't able to train with the others for the mission since you knew that you were going to be distracted, anyway.
Maverick also told you that it wouldn't be possible for you to be a part of the mission because he wanted to let you grieve and you agreed.
That wasn't a problem on your part since you wanted to take your mind off of things and you still had to think things through, especially the part where Hangman decided to grieve with you on that day.
That day, he wasn't Hangman. It was Jake. The one who made sure that no one made fun of you when your parents failed to attend an event at school, the one who made sure to get you home safe after you punched a bunch of bullies in the schoolyard, the one who comforted you at times when your Dad was away on special missions, and the one you had feelings for before competition got in between your bond.
Despite your rivalry, you and Jake knew each other best. He knew your allergies more than your parents did and you knew what he feared the most in his life that he kept from everyone. While you were each other's enemies, you were also each other's comfort.
You had to admit, you felt better when he comforted you. After that day, you started to see him in a different light, the one where you didn't have the urge to strangle him if you were given a chance to.
Today, Maverick chose the ones he deemed ready for the mission. Phoenix and Bob as Dagger 1, Fanboy and Payback as Dagger 2, and Rooster and Hangman were chosen as Maverick's wingmen. You felt proud of them but at the same time, you felt anxious for them.
Hangman was ecstatic at being chosen as one of Maverick's wingmen, but he also felt like thinking twice before doing the mission for some reason. Ever since that night, you were all he could ever think about. He stared at you from the corner of the briefing room as he was suiting up for the mission, wondering how you were holding up.
He held himself back since he thought that it may remind you of the event that you're trying hard to forget. As soon as he was finished suiting up, he immediately made his way to the tarmac where everybody was busy double-checking their planes.
"Jake," He heard someone call out his name despite the deafening sound of the engine around him. It was you. He stopped in his tracks as he looked back at you, waiting for you to speak.
"Make sure you come back home alive. You and I still have a game to finish," You added as you walked closer to him, tapping his shoulder lightly.
"You can do it." You gave him a warm, genuine smile before exiting the tarmac, leaving Jake with his crazy, beating heart.
As soon as all of them took off, you and the rest of the aviators stood by the radio to listen while they executed the mission. They had two minutes and thirty seconds to fly low through the canyons, beneath hostile surface-to-air missiles, and reach the target. You sat there in worry. Although it would only take a short time, a lot could happen in two minutes.
You felt a pang of relief when you confirmed that they were able to bomb the target. Miracle number one was finally done. All they had to do was get home in one piece---but all hell broke loose when the SAMs and fifth-generation jets launched to intercept the squadron, resulting in a dogfight.
Maverick's plane was shot down and it caused panic among everyone. When the rest of the enemy planes were shot down, the rest returned to base immediately, but Rooster stayed behind and looked for Maverick. Hangman was also nowhere to be found.
After hours of being off-the-radar, Maverick shows up with an F-14 TOMCAT with Rooster. You sighed in relief as you high-fived Coyote, who was also as nervous as you were. But then, listening to the mission unfold was like a rollercoaster ride of emotions. Maverick and Rooster ran out of ammunition while they were being chased by a fifth-generation jet. Just as when they thought about giving up, the enemy plane blew into pieces as a familiar, cocky voice rang from the radio.
"Good Afternoon, Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your savior speaking. Please fasten your seat belts, return the tray tables to their locked and upright positions and prepare for landing."
"Hey, Hangman, you look good." Rooster says, relief evident in his voice.
"I am good, Rooster. I'm very good. I'll see you back on deck." Hangman replies, as all of you who were gathered around the radio, hugged each other in joy and relief.
The rest of the team who were on the mission arrived as you gave them a hug. Maverick, Rooster, and Hangman landed as well as everyone cheered for their arrival. You ran to Maverick and gave him a hug. "Dad's right, you're quite hard to get rid of, Uncle Mav." He laughed in response as he tapped your shoulder.
"Glad to see you, kid." He replied. You then turned to Rooster as you hugged him as well. You felt happy and relieved that all of them came back safe that you almost hugged everyone you saw-- but not everyone. You made your way towards Jake who was busy shaking people's hands and entertaining praises around him.
"So, I heard you got another confirmed kill." You stated. He nodded as he grinned proudly.
"That makes it two."
You nodded in acknowledgment as you never removed your eyes from his'. "One more and you're there, Bagman."
He took a step closer to you as he smiled. "So, 7 pm?" You chuckled as you raised a brow.
"I told you, I only date top pilots. Are you?"
"Damn straight, I am."
You smiled like an idiot and rolled your eyes at his confident response as you walked away from him. After a few more steps, you looked back at him who was still standing there, waiting for your answer. "6 pm, The Hard Deck. Don't be late, you're not the only one who's on the list, Seresin."
Jake's smile widened as he gave you a small salute. "Yes, ma'am."
That night, both of you came to terms with your feelings. After all, both of you were practically even now.
#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#jake seresin x you#jake seresin x reader#top gun maverick#im obsessed with jake seresin aotm#hangman x reader#top gun hangman#hangman imagine
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For the ask thing. Your top 3 favorite Reader-inserts for Top Gun (that aren’t yours of course). ; D
Hey Nonnie —
Thanks for the ask! I’d have to say that my three current faves are:
Small Doses (Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader, call sign: “Knockout”) by @purelyfiction
Head in the Clouds (Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x GN!Reader) by @dragon-kazansky
Does Mav count as a reader insert in IceMav fics if I want to get railed by Ice? If so: The Twenty Dollars Verse by @alecjbi is to die for.
If your answer to 3 was “no,” then That’s My Girl by @valhallaas
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(Bringing this thought to you because most of my Impact knowledge comes from your blog) It would be so cool if they could have at least a few Impact guys at Forbidden Door, especially because I feel like they'll do some ROH representation, so if they did get Impact involved you have three of the major US promotions and New Japan on the same card, a proper Supercard.
Oh that's cool, I love either introducing people to Impact or giving a little insight that I have to those that want to know more.
That would be awesome. I'd love for them to perhaps include the Knockouts since NJPW doesn't have any women working for them. Maybe we could actually have Deonna Purrazzo against Britt Baker since that's a match people have been wanting. The X Division stars like Chris Bey, Trey Miguel, Mike Bailey and Ace Austin would also be fun to see up against some of the high flyers of either promotion. Josh Alexander against either Bryan Danielson or Hangman Page would be unreal.
I could go on but there is so many dream matches and Impact has such an exciting roster right now, even sending a few Impact stars to appear on the show, I'd be so excited for.
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My Favorite Matches 2021
Deonna Purrazzo vs Masha Slamovich - Knockouts Knockdown 2021 (This match fuckin’ ruled!)
Kenny King vs Shane Taylor - Final Battle 2021 (Two men putting their bodies though hell to not only give a grand sendoff to their feud and possibly their company, but beating up their bodies as an audition for work elsewhere in the increasingly limited spots in major companies. Also promo game on these two is 20/10. Stunningly amazing)
Bryan Danielson vs Minoru Suzuki - AEW Dynamite 10/15 Buy-In (This match FUCKIN’ RULED)
Chris Sabin vs Josh Alexander - Victory Road 2021 (The first time they acknowledged Sabin as a final boss of the X-Division. Legitimized Alexander in a big way. The ending was immaculate and based in old lore and the mat wrestling yes please.)
Mei Suruga vs Emi Sakura - ChocoproLive! Special Show (MEI TIME! :D but also an emotional goodbye to Emi Sakura since she signed to AEW. She put Mei over and left on her back the proper way even in this silly promotion.)
Young Bucks vs Lucha Brothers - All Out 2021 (This match fucking ruled and I wasn’t surprised because the Bucks vs Lucha Bros never misses)
Bianca Belair vs Sasha banks- Wrestlemania Night 1 (So special. The first WWE main event back with fans, Bianca’s emotions and coronation, Sasha gleefully ushering in a new star like the A+ heel she is, all of Bianca’s spots, the story telling, and two black women main eventing Wrestlemania)
Rhea Ripley vs Raquel Gonzalez - NXT New Years Evil (This match fucking RULED and I nearly forgot it happened this year)
Jacob Fatu vs Calvin Tankman - MLW Never Say Never (Big meaty men slapping meat! Tankman is a star in the making and Fatu was made to be a champion. This match introduced me to them both.)
Sho vs Yoh - Wrestle Grand Slam (better than the BOTSJ match. Mostly because Yoh is more satisfying as a seller and he gets his shit kicked in during this match. One of the only stories I followed in NJPW this year because I’m all up in my feelings about it)
Best Friends vs Kip/Penelope/Miro - AEW Arcade Anarchy (the match that sold me on AEW tbh. So much unflinching fun with a group of misfits that I like. The ending was perfect and stayed with me)
Honorable mention: all of Final Battle and the NXT Men’s War Games match which were nails in the coffin of an era of two well loved wrestling shows. Also Hangman vs Omega because the ending blew my mind and shout out to Matt Cardona winning the GCW championship because that made me laugh.
#Wrestling is fun#I liked emotional matches and solid storytelling and anything that made me say "that effin ruled'#Look at me not tag my nonsense#Year end
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Don’t mind me… this post is not suspicious what are you talking about?
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Small Doses - 2
Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader | Part 1 |
Summary: After a very spontaneous weekend full of unpredicted characters, Knockout returns to work - only for the same character to greet her as well as a whole host of problems that follow him.
Word Count: 7,003 words
Content Warning: This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own discretion. || HEY THERE’S SMUT DOWN THERE SO YOU BETTER BE 18!!! (unprotected piv (don’t be hangman - use protection pals), fingering, light bondage, spanking, more really hot and reckless nonsense)
Author’s Note: um... so hey! long time no see i know, i know - life has been crazy and hard to keep up with and I haven’t been able to finish up this chapter. It’s been driving me up a wall and giving me the worst writers block. But!!! Y’all can thank @callsignthirsty because she single handedly brought it back to life for y’all. i’m getting back on the proverbial horse so to speak and will hopefully be getting more regular about my writing. I missed these two and all of y’all so I hope you’re ready for more Knockout and Hangy :)))
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You had to take a day to get your sights re-centered after the spontaneity of running into Hangman at the Hard Deck.
In fact you’d been so distracted, even Amelia had something to say when you’d picked her up that day.
“You’re being weird,” she instigates from the passenger seat - a spot she rarely gets to sit in since it's usually the three of you and you are always in shotgun.
“Am not,” you retort, glancing at her before looking back to the road.
“Your shirt is on inside out.” Frazzled, you glance down to see the seams of the shirt you’re wearing - the telltale sign of an inside out shirt.
You nod and sigh. “So it is.” A clearing of your throat comes as the teenager tries again.
“So what’s the deal? Is it work? You got some big secret mission you can’t tell us?” The spitting image of Penny starts tearing into you before she gasps. “It’s a boy.”
“It is not.”
“Is too.”
“Is not.”
“Is too!”
“I broke the lamp in my room,” you confess. Amelia’s face stretches, a hand covering her mouth.
The reality was, you couldn’t give a shit about the lamp right now. Or the fact that you technically hadn’t broken it — Jake had.
Jake had done a lot of damage this weekend.
“Mom is gonna lose her sh-”
“Finish that sentence, I dare you,” you say with a laugh, shaking your head.
After losing fifty bucks, the lamp in an old shoebox under your bed is the furthest conversation topic you and Amelia focus on. Conversation shifts and the weekend goes on without a hitch.
Until you’re at the base, about to enter a conference room with Cyclone and Warlock at the head of the table. Receiving word that you are sought out by both the Admiral and Rear Admiral puts you in a bit of a tailspin. The entire walk to the conference hall has you tracing your steps, wondering if you’d made a huge error. You take a centering breath before opening the door. You’re seemingly interrupting a conversation with a third-party, which makes you pause in your step, hand still on the doorknob. Warlock clears his throat before redirecting the discussion.
“Which is why we’ve decided to bring you a second set of eyes.” You smile at the man standing at the foot of the table as you finish your step. Apparently, this was also your conversation too. As Bates begins to introduce you, you turn and direct a respectful nod to him.
“Meet Lieutenant Commander Benjamin, callsign, Knockout. In turn, I introduce Captain Pete Mitchell, call sign: Maverick.” The brunette gives you a smile and the small glint of recognition that dots your memory begins to expand when you realize how stiff he’s become. And for good reason. Your brain starts into a montage of discussions between you and Penny while you were about to embark to TOPGUN for the first time. How she’d met a pilot that ended up teaching at Miramar shortly after his tenure there and how every now and then she’d run into him. Amelia then informed you, when she was old enough, that every time he flew into town they’d end up picking up where they left off and it was a vicious cycle.
The same old flame that Penny kept reginiting is your co-instructor.
You retrain your focus to hear more about the mission at hand, learning that you’ll have a month or so to get every aviator in shape. Seems like a tight timeline but you’ve learned not to argue with Simpson, seeing as he is pretty rigid. The two admirals then instruct you to meet them in the hangar in the next fifteen minutes.
Maverick joins you as you walk towards the respective hangar. “So… Lieutenant Commander,” he speaks up. “That’s… a big deal for your age,” Pete begins as you step with his stride, sunglasses perched on your nose.
“Yes. I’m incredibly proud of it.” You keep conversation short for now, primarily due to the fact you’re trying to get into your teaching mode.
“As you should be.” Mitchell is quiet for a few steps before piping up again: “Benjamin. You wouldn’t happen to be related-”
“Yes. I would.” You watch from behind bronze lenses as he meets your gaze and nods. “I also know far too much about your reputation, Captain,” you warn as the contents of the hangar become clearer. Pete shuts up as you get within earshot of the group, walking into the metal skeleton of the hangar above you as Bates finishes Maverick’s introduction. The older of the two of you starts his soliloquy of sorts, leaving you to look over the faces of the group. As you do, you begin to recognize each of them by name.
You’d met all these people at the Hard Deck on Saturday-
“It’s my pleasure to introduce my co-instructor, Lieutenant Commander Benjamin, callsign Knockout.”
In the past five months, there had only been one day you’d been nervous to take on the task of teaching at TOPGUN. That’d been day one.
And today, as you lock eyes with unmistakable green ones.
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The dismissal of class has you nearly darting out of the hangar but not quickly enough. At least, not fast enough to avoid Hangman’s voice.
“Lieutenant Commander.” You keep walking.
“Benjamin.” Four more steps -
“Knockout.” Finally, you fold, stopping and turning to look at him. Jake’s hands are out at his sides, a look of ‘what the hell’ on his face.
“Yes, Seresin?” You’re careful to keep a professional boundary between you, hoping it’s drawn clearly enough for him to catch on. It takes a moment but his expression twists as he clears his throat.
“When were you going to tell me you got a promotion?” It’s not the question you’re expecting out of his mouth, but once it’s there, you struggle with an answer.
“You… never asked.” A shrug as you look around you to make sure the coast is clear. “We… need to discuss a few things.” The reminder is clear and he nods in agreement.
“Yes. We do.” Jake drops to a whisper: “My place… I’ll text you the address.” A nod and he stands upright before you dismiss him, letting him move at his rushed pace back to base, his shoulder grazing your own as he swiftly departs from the airfield. You follow his pace to head home, to freshen up and regroup.
After a quick change and a rinse off in the shower, you grab the keys to your Jeep and give some excuse to Amelia as you run out. Penny is at the bar, so you’re grateful that the young girl is finally old enough to be left at home alone. Climbing into the vintage baby blue vehicle, you turn the engine over as you enter the address Hangman sent to your phone.
You pause, seeing the last message in your chat history.
Seresin: Happy Birthday, KO. Any plans for the day?
Benjamin: Not many, but that’s fine LOL
Then he’d called.
The rest of the chat was similarly structured: two or three bubbles on each of your birthdays. A rouge message for a holiday here and there.
Shaking the sullen feeling spreading through your chest, you shift gears. Soon after, you’re throwing the phone onto the spare seat next to you, as you pull away from the curb and head in the direction provided by the robotic voice coming from your phone.
As you pull into the apartment parking lot, you realize: he never called. He said he would, as he’d slipped out your window, but he didn’t. It’s only been two days, so maybe you shouldn’t hold it against him. After all: here you were, at his apartment.
Four flights of steps later, you’re knocking on the door of 4B, rocking on your heels. You’d changed into the first thing you’d seen in your room, which had happened to be a pair of leggings and a flowing sports top. Paired with the sneakers, you looked like you’d gotten lost on the way to the gym. When the door finally swings open, Jake has already walked away from the door and made himself at home on his couch. With a light scoff, you enter the apartment, shutting the door behind you and watching him as he leans onto his hand that’s propped on his thigh.
“So this teacher thing is… a new development?” he questions, meeting your eyes as you nod.
“No…yes? I mean I’ve been teaching since I got here…” Your answer doesn’t seem to be enough to stop the inquisition of questions from him.
“You said you’ve been here for months. Why didn’t you tell me? First the promotion and now this? You mean to tell me you didn’t know about this? I seriously doubt that.” he gripes, leaving you standing in the entryway of his apartment, mouth gaping as you avoid his eyes.
“No, Hangman, I didn’t know this was a thing until this morning. They pulled me from my current assignment for this. Now would you stop asking questions for like,” a pained sigh leaves you as you take the far end of the couch, “two seconds? That’s all I need, two measly seconds.” As you fall to the couch, Jake stands and rotates in the direction of the kitchen.
He tugs the fridge door open, grabbing a glass bottle from the door. By the time you can even think to ask for one, he’s already got the top of it off and is drinking it. You give a less than amused glare toward him before prying it from his hands once he sits down.
“Thanks for the beer,” you sneer before taking a swig. Hand frozen in a drinking motion, he looks at you with a scoff.
“You’re welcome,” he groans as he stands back up to retrieve another. “So. Lieutenant Commander.” There’s a song-like tone to his words, leaving you to look at him with one eye as he sits in front of you on his coffee table, opening up the beer bottle with the class ring on his hand. You pause the sip you’re taking to watch as the cap falls to the cheap wood and begins to spin on an axis until it falls on its face — leaving you looking at Jake, face to face.
“Nice trick,” you mumble as he takes a swig of his own beer, but continues on his thought process.
“You gonna talk, since, that’s why we’re here?” He leans back on the table, a large hand gripping its side. You finally can take a second to notice what he’s wearing: a pair of gray heathered sweatshorts and a cotton graphic tee. The shorts are riding up ever so slightly, showing evidence of the California sun on his skin in the form of swim-trunk tan lines. A small bit of gunmetal pokes out from beneath his collar — dog tags. Can’t say he’s not consistent. The metal is a sharp contrast to the overall comfortable aesthetic. There’s something softening about seeing him like this. The last time must have been in his dorm back in Nevada…
“Okay, okay. What are we doing about Penny’s lamp?” you try, just as you start sipping at your beverage, seeing his face twist from unamusement to a shake of his head, a small smirk on his lips as you start to giggle with the bottle on your lips.
“This again? She must really fuckin’ love that lamp, Kody,” he snickers and you shrug.
“It’s vintage, I don’t know what to say.” You finally reach forward and set the glass down on the table, leaning back and crossing your arms. “Obviously, I think you know-”
“Did your parents raise you in a damn barn?” Jake scolds, grabbing a plastic coaster at the end of the table, only to wiggle it in your face, picking up the bottle and slipping the disc under it before setting it back down. “Coasters, LC. Coasters.”
Your jaw drops with mock surprise as an astonished laugh leaves you. “Oh I see. IKEA street tables that you saved from the landfill get love and care but Penny’s Tiffany lamp gets shoved under my bed.”
“I am offended you think I would subject my apartment to street trash.” Jake tsks you before leaning forward. “Ten bucks on Craigslist. Target Exclusive table.”
You can’t help but roll your eyes, “Oh, of course. That makes it so much better.”
He smirks. “I like to think so.”
Finally, you begin trying to tackle the difficult conversation that’s waiting for the both of you. “In all sincerity, what happened Friday night… it can’t happen again. Not with work being the way it is now.”
The blonde tilts his head with a look of feigned confusion. “Really? I thought the teacher-student thing would’ve been right up your alley. We can try a nurse and doctor routine if that suits your fancy.” He’s leant on his knees now, a wild smirk on his face. You give him a disgruntled look and he sits up again. “Really, Kody, it’s not as big of a deal as you’re making it.” He lets the alcohol hit his lips as you sigh.
“It is Jake. This could be detrimental to my, hell, to both of our careers, which is why it can’t happen again.”
Jake is grabbing your drink before you finish speaking and pressing it into your hand with a shake of his head.
“Who’s gonna know? It’s after hours at the end of the day, so why should they care? And hey, we got through bootcamp without a problem, didn’t we?” he asks with a small cheers of his beer against yours before he sips it.
Your stomach drops when he asks the question, encasing you in ice.
Jake doesn’t give you a chance to respond, let alone get too in your head about what he’s just said. He sets his own beer down — on a coaster of course — a cold hand landing on one of your thighs, a warm one on the other. “But, I get your concern.”
Your eyes widen slightly at his statement.
“Really?” You lean back further into the couch as he nods. “I guess that settles it then. Right?”
“Yep.” Jake simply replies, his focus no longer on the conversation, which is clear as his fingers start to run along the elastic fabric of your leggings.
“We agree… we can’t sleep together while this is going on,” you try again, a grip of his hand changing your tune slightly as you finish your sentence.
“Absolutely. Couldn’t agree more.”
You find it hard to believe as he shifts to your side of the couch, lips pressing against your neck.
“Jake. I’m trying to have an adult conversation about this,” you warn, but your body is already betraying you as his grip trails up your sides, carefully pulling you closer.
“Oh, I know, keep going, I’m listening.” It certainly seems that way as he continues to tongue at the spots he’s been messing with along your neck.
“Jake,” you huff, hoping that you don’t sound as breathless as you’re beginning to feel, “come on.”
“Come on and what?”
“You know what.” You can feel the smirk on his lips as his breath trails along your skin — silently taunting you despite the fact you can’t see his features.
“Come on and get on with it? Or, come on and stop?”
“The second one.” As you answer both of his questions, his hands are moving to your hips and guiding you backwards, further and further until you’re flat on your back on his couch.
“Then say it.” He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips and you lean into it before you can stop yourself. “Tell me to stop, Kody.” You’re following his lips as he pulls away further, dark eyes meeting yours.
Your jaw is slacked, your breathing heavy, chest moving at double its normal rate. Words fail you, and while you’re trying to think of something, anything, to give a solid, rational reason — he returns to the spot under your jawline.
“Because, you see, Kody–” the words are hard to make out with his lips latched to your skin, tongue glazing over every spot as he drifts along “–I don’t think you want me to stop.” His hands begin to roam from their spot on your waist. “No, no, I think… that you want me to touch you… to keep you under me as long as I want. To get rid of every important thought in that pretty brain of yours — forget the world… work… everything.” There’s a near hiss to the sentence, so low and sultry it sends a shiver up your spine. “But I need to hear you say it, first.”
His fingers dip below the waist of your leggings, but they freeze there as he sits and listens. Your mind tries to work through the white noise, the consistent bah-bum bah-bum of your heart clawing up your throat until it’s reverberating in your head and making it hard to string together a coherent set of words.
Jake’s lips curl into a smile that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. “Baby, I mean it. You just say the word and I'll do all the thinking for ‘ya. I'll be in charge of making the decisions. Make you feel good. How's that sound?” Although patronizing, it flips a switch in your mind.
You aren’t the lead for this assignment — Maverick is. He makes the hard decisions. He leads the lessons. If no one knew about you and Hangman… nothing would change.
So really, what would it hurt?
From above you, Jake retreats a hand from your torso to bring it to his mouth, mockingly holding a radio receiver, and making an intercom noise. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. The cabin doors are closing and we're about to take off to pound town, so if you would like to get off the plane, this is your last opportunity to do so.”
You’re not sure whether to laugh or roll your eyes, so you’re doing the former and knock your knee against his in a swift upward motion as he hovers above you. He looks down at you expectantly. “I can’t believe you used pound town in a sentence.” Your tone comes off as slightly disgusted, yet Hangman tilts his head.
“Gotta say something fast, because flight crew is about to close the cabin door for the taxiway.” You roll your eyes. Can’t believe he’s doubling down on the pound town thing. Then he leans in close, husks against your ear: “Do you not want me to tie you up and wrap your thighs around my ears?”
You groan, caught between annoyance and want at the mental image he paints with those words. “Fuck yes, why didn’t you lead with that?” Finally, you reach up and pull his head down to level with yours, his lips feverishly capturing yours as you kick off your shoes. His fingers quit teasing at the waist of your leggings and tug them from your hips, carelessly tossing the fabric somewhere — out of sight, out of mind.
His lips cascade down your neck to your collarbone, exposed by your slouchy top. Your casual outfit is making this process of getting you out of your clothes so much quicker for him and he isn’t complaining.
“Can you” a kiss “wear this” a nip “more” a lick “often? I’ll have you naked in seconds and it's so efficient,” he hums along your skin, kisses sneaking between words.
“Why are you still talking?” you lament in response.
Propped up on his knees with his hands caressing the exposed skin of your sides, Hangman gives you a hard look. “This coming from the woman who said this was a bad idea,” he sneers.
You’d roll your eyes, but it’s true. “I stand by that,” you repeat, defending your previous position even as green eyes turn mischievous and his hands come to grip your waist.
“Actually, you’re lying under me,” he hums, a gasp leaving you as he presses your torsos closer together. “Kinda’ defeats the statement.”
“What? You’ve never chased a bad idea before?” you tease. “I find that hard to believe.”
“You keep saying this is a bad idea.”
“Shut up, Seresin.”
“Can do, LC.” You watch his smirk stretch as his fingers undo the tie from his shorts. He pulls the braided string free and presents you with his palm. You raise an eyebrow in question. What does he want? A medal? “Hands,” he instructs. You lift your arms and he takes each wrist gently in his one hand. Dilated jade eyes meet yours, and you find yourself waiting on his next instruction with baited breath. “You have a word?”
A safe word, of course. It’s genuinely been so long since you’ve needed to have a safe word that it had completely skipped your mind. But within a split second you have one. “Nevada.”
Hangman stops short, cord slack where he'd been trying to figure the best way to wrap your wrists. When his eyes meet yours with a nod, the smallest smile flickers over his features. “Nevada it is.” Jake returns to the task of tying the cotton string around your wrists.
You watch him intently, when an idea pops into your head. “Always prepared, huh?” you ask, mentally cheering as Hangman takes the bait, a prideful smirk splitting his face.
“Of course, gotta be ready for anything.”
You mirror his smirk as he falls into your trap. The only thing better than Hangman in your bed — “And you call Rooster a boy scout.” — is an irritated Hangman in your bed. You watch with glee as his face falls and he pulls your restraints tighter until the braided string burns against your skin and your wrists are bound in front of you.
“Shut up, Benjamin.” It’s grumbled under his breath as he puts the final touches on a knot against your skin. You stay quiet for a moment as he finishes, tucking the strings away before looking him dead in the eye as you test your bindings.
“Make me.”
Hangman smirks and pulls his shirt from his shoulders before tossing it to the floor with your leggings. Instead of the witty repartee you’ve come to expect, he readjusts you on his sofa to give himself more room to work with. Then, without giving you a second to breathe, he crouches between your legs and pulls your underwear from your hips. You inhale sharply as his breath ghosts over your slick folds, now exposed to the cold air of his apartment, but he doesn’t make a move to close the distance. No. He lets you relax first. Then he pounces.
Your back arches as your hips try to simultaneously jump away from and into the warm press of his tongue, your lips parting in a sultry noise that has Hangman smiling. His lips are slick with your arousal, pupils expanding to overtake the verdant green of his eyes. “I don’t think I will,” he says with another lick, this one barely brushing your clit and you jolt. “I think I like it much better when I can hear you.”
As Hangman makes good on his promise and wraps your legs around his head, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. It tastes like his coconut chapstick, blended with the slightly stale taste of hops from your spontaneous happy hour — but the thought barely registers, because this time, Hangman doesn’t pause before he’s on you.
It’s almost instantaneous how your body reacts to him. Hips jolting, bound hands attempting to reach out to him — failing, of course. The thought of having your hands bound seemed so sexy while they were free, but you’re beginning to regret the makeshift bind now that your fingers itch to lock into his hair. To push and tug and encourage him with each lap of his sinful tongue. Instead, you rock against him only to whine when he shifts back and a strong hand presses your hips into the couch. It would be hot if it wasn’t so frustrating, the sudden lack of friction makes you dizzy and a light groan slips from you before you can try to bottle it up.
You feel like soda that’s been shaken up. You want to stretch out your arms, to dig your nails into the cushions above you and scream as the electric tingle spreads through you until you’re ready to burst. As it is, all you can do is clench your fists to secure yourself for the pending wave. With your wrists locked together it only boosts your temptation to grab something. Your inner thighs are already pressed so tightly against Jake’s sharp jawline, it doesn’t seem possible for them to squeeze even further. Inevitably, there’ll be bruising, that you’re absolutely sure of. You clamp down harder anyway, grabbing at him any way you can and your back arches, which really speeds things up. In response, Jake’s grip on you tightens and he pulls your hips towards himself as they instinctively try to jump away.
“Where ya goin’, darlin’?” It’s muffled by the curves of your skin but dripping in promise, dark eyes glancing up at you with a devious grin to match. “I ain’t done with you.” He licks a fat strip up your cunt and smacks his lips. “Now, be a good girl and cum on my face.”
The words go straight to your gut, forcing a strangled noise out of you as Hangman doubles down on his efforts, your thighs quivering where they’re still pressed to his ears. Your shoulders rock against the couch under you, barely keeping a constant pattern in your breathing as your entire body is set ablaze. Large hands smooth over your thighs as you come down, a gentle effort to calm the jittering motion as warm strokes of his tongue work to clean you up. Finally, he’s patting one of them, trying to pry his head from your grip. “Not so tight, baby,” he keens, pulling himself up onto his knees, a hand moving up to wipe across his lips, only to caress his jaw in feigned pain.
Your breath is returning to you after its jolting disappearance mere seconds before, a slight laugh leaving you. “I thought you said earmuffs?”
He scoffs before twisting his head in an attempt to crack his neck. “Yeah, earmuffs not a fuckin’ vice grip.” A hand pushes through his hair, an attempt to reset himself, like a bird preening his feathers. ”It’ll be in the New York Times headlines tomorrow,” he cracks, before annunciating each word with a flash of his hand: “Pilot Dies Doing What He Loves Best.”
You let a roll of your eyes follow your miffed expression. “What, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”
You don't feel his hand as it sneaks its way between your thighs, but you know something is coming when his lips curl into that infuriating smirk. ”A finger, maybe,” he huffs, said finger sliding in with ease, before he crooks it up against a sensitive spot within you. “Besides, I thought we’d established last time that this–” his finger retreats “–is mine.” With a heavy hand, he plunges in again, forcing your hips to jolt up at the sharp movement. The waning oversensitivity. You let out a whine. “Isn’t it, darlin’?”
“I dunno,” you hum, watching a questioning expression flit over his face, “you might have to remind me.”
He huffs, his hand withdrawing just as quickly as it had appeared. “Well, now you’re just asking for trouble.” Hangman curls two fingers around your bindings and pulls you up until you’re almost chest to chest, only your bound wrists between you. You smirk, leaning in to close the distance between your lips, teeth clicking around air where you’d expected to find Hangman’s bottom lip.
Fingers curl around your chin as Hangman chuckles. “Bad girls don’t get kisses, Kody,” he taunts. In the next instant, he’s got your knees on the floor and the rest of you bent over the same damn coffee table he’d been boasting about earlier. Before you can say anything smart, a hand comes down on your ass and you jump, hip bones smashing against the edge of the table. “They get spanked,” he says and you can hear the satisfaction coloring his words, feel it in the way his palm rubs over your hot skin. “So what d’you say? You ready to apologize?”
“For what?”
“That mouth, for one.”
You roll your eyes even though you know Jake can’t see it. “You love my mouth.” You yelp as his hand comes down on your other cheek.
“Oh, I do,” he agrees, “but it keeps getting you in trouble.” Your thighs tense when his hand disappears from your skin. “So what do you say?”
You huff, giving in if only so that your ass won’t be too sore to fly the next day. “What am I apologizing for?”
“Take your pick,” Jake drawls, hands smoothing up your spine and lips brushing over the red splotches on your asscheeks. “Calling me a bad idea.” He is. “Trying to bite my lip off. Insulting my coffee table.”
“You want me to apologize to your street table?”
“Target exclusive.” A sharp nip to reddened skin. “Sorry it doesn’t have a name like Penny’s ugly lamp. See, apologizin’ isn’t so hard.”
Your forehead thunks against wood veneer. “I’m sorry I was mean to your coffee table.”
Hangman hums. One of his hands trails over the knobs of your spine until calloused fingertips whisper around your cunt, the skin tacky with a mixture of his drying spit and your arousal. “I’m not sure I believe you.”
“Bite me.” You regret your words instantly, but instead of biting you, Hangman merely grazes your skin with his teeth.
“Next time,” he says, scooting closer to you until the hot line of his cock nestles along your cunt, rutting against you in a tease of what you hope is still to come. Then, absentmindedly: “I wonder if I could fuck some manners into you.”
Your shoulders bunch in a shrug. “Worth a shot.”
One of Hangman’s hands plants itself near your head, his other helping to guide himself into you. “That’s my girl.” But he stops with the fat head of his cock pressed to your slick folds. “Now ask me nicely.”
“Jake,” you whine, pressing your hips back but only succeeding in driving yourself a little more insane.
“Come on, baby. Use your words.”
You turn your head to get a look at him over your shoulder, hot cheek pressed against the stupid coffee table. “Please fuck me stupid, Jake,” you groan, half from exasperation. “Need it. Feel so empty.”
Hangman leans over you until his chest presses against your back and leaves a lingering kiss on your cheek. Your jaw goes slack when he finally pushes in. “That’s it, baby,” he groans against your ear before hiding his face in your neck, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him. “Taking me so well. Always so good for me.”
“Fucking move, Jake,” you curse. A moment later, the hand by your head shifts to gather your hair at the base of your neck, only for Hangman to use it to arch your back slightly, lips to your ear.
“Nicely, Kody.” You outright moan at the display of domination and go slack in his grasp. “Don’t you want to be good for me?”
“Please, Jake.” You swallow to wet your dry throat, lashes fluttering to brush against your cheeks. “I’m sorry I made fun of your street table, but I’d like it a lot more if you fucked me over it.”
“Knew you’d come around,” Jake says as he lowers you back to the table, but you’re to the point where you just hope you cum. You don’t have to worry about that, though. Not with Jake. He may have left all of the others hanging, but never you. At least, not in this regard. “It’s a great table.”
Hangman lets go of your hair, but that doesn’t stop you from throwing your head back when he locks onto your g-spot with an eager thrust. “So good!” And you’re hardly aware of anything except the way his body plays yours like a fiddle, but Jake can take your answer however he likes - he could take it to hell with him so long as he doesn’t stop. So long as he stays stretched over you and inside of you. His voice in your ears, and ambrosial taste on your tongue.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” he grunts, wrapping his hand around the edge of the coffee table for more leverage to fuck into you. “Thought you could just quit this? Thought I’d let this pussy go?” Your only answer is a drawn out moan. History would say yes, but fuck you’ve never been happier to be wrong in your life. You’ll gladly be wrong more often if it means finding yourself under Jake. You rock backwards to meet him halfway, the clap of sweat-slick skin dampened by the roar of blood rushing in your ears. It’s almost as good as flying. The rush. The light, dizzy feeling. Like a high. Each moment is unique but blurring together and vaguely familiar.
When he pulls back too far and slips out of you, you raise your ass up and give it a tempting swivel. Greedy hands capture your hips and hold you still so he can push back into you.
This, proves to be the coffee table’s undoing.
You yelp, only avoiding a faceful of apartment floor thanks to Jake’s quick reflexes as a loud crack echos off the walls. Broad forearms have slid under your waist, stopping your momentum as Jake’s prized possession meets its demise on the carpeted floor. Both of you are panting — both from the sudden cease in activity and in some semblance of surprise. When you finally register what’s happened, you can’t stop the terribly loud laughter that leaves you as Jake pulls you back up to your knees and eventually onto the couch, away from the scene of the crime.
“Shut it, Benjamin,” he mutters, haphazardly pulling sweats back up around his waist — not that they stay up since the drawstring is still digging into your skin. He looks back at you from over his shoulder, where you sit with your bottom lip between your teeth, biting back laughter. The longer he looks at you the more his own expression cracks as he joins you while you continue to laugh.
“I guess it’s a good thing I apologized to your table,” you wheeze when you manage to get enough air back into your lungs. “You know, now that it’s no longer with us and all.” The laughter continues as Jake covers his face with a hand, both of you reeling, stomachs aching.
“So,” you draw out. “You wanna untie me so I can help you clean this up, or…?”
And while Hangman shakes his head no, he reaches out to untie your wrists all the same. “Leave it,” he says as he massages the red, bloodless lines crisscrossing your arms. “We’ll pick it up after.”
“After?” You grin, eyes half-lidded as you give Jake a onceover. He’s still hard, cock tenting his loose shorts.
“Yeah.” He tosses the drawstring to the side, intending for it to land on the coffee table, but it lands, instead, on top of its debris. “Gonna have to take this to the bedroom unless we want splint–”
Knock! Knock!
“Yo, Jake! You good?” It’s Coyote. Your wide eyes meet Hangman’s.
“What is Coyote doing here?” you hiss as quiet as humanly possible.
“I think we were supposed to get drinks.”
“You think?” It’s a struggle to keep quiet, but Coyote finding you in Jake’s quarters — naked in Jake’s quarters — could mean the end of both of your careers. You’re his commanding officer, dammit!
“Jake?!” Coyote’s sounding a little more frantic and you’re worried that he’s going to try the door next. God, did Hangman remember to lock it when you got there?
“Yeah, man!” he’s shouting a response and already wide eyes look pleadingly at green ones, silently begging him to get Coyote the fuck outta Dodge. “I’m good.”
“Alright, so… you gonna open the door?” You’re in the middle of locating your clothes from around the room, pausing as Jake looks at you — as though he’s incapable of selecting the correct answer, which is obviously ‘no’. You shake your head frantically, leaving Hangman’s response.
“‘Fraid that’s not happening, Machado.” You’ve finally located your shirt on the floor but before you can grab it, Hangman’s hands grab your hips and pull you off balance and onto his lap.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ you mouth at him, brows drawn in a stern frown.
“Why’s that?” Oh, you know, just a typical Monday night with his very naked commanding officer on his fucking lap in his living room. You watch as the gears turn in Jake’s head, you’re nearly about to tell him off and try your luck climbing out the window when he replies.
“Got a girl in here, man.”
“Ha!” Coyote barks a laugh. “You work fast.”
Not fast enough it seems. You try to stand but Jake’s grasp around your waist is impassible, leaving you stuck between a proverbial rock and a hard-on. Despite the situation, Jake’s lips curl into a smile against your neck. “Please,” he continues, falling into the same teasing back and forth he and Coyote have always had, “you would too with a face like this.”
God, you want to smack that look right off of his face.
“And that body!” Coyote laughs back.
“Javy, please,” Jake chides, an ever growing smirk on lips that continue to tantalize your skin, trapped in his arms and the worst possible situation. “You’re making me blush.” The blonde snickers as his friend joins him from the hall. Like a cat trying to escape a child’s manhandling grasp, you continue to push from Jake, which he finally catches on to. “Alright, man, unfortunately, I’m gonna have to ask you to get goin’.”
“What, you don’t wanna share?” the other pilot propositions from behind the incredibly thin — I mean, seriously, what kind of door allows a damn conversation like this to happen through it — door.
You stiffen at the insinuation. The idea that Coyote could find you out. Flush your entire career in an instant.
“Not this one.”
Your expression softens at Jake’s answer. In the line up of answers A through D, that was not one of the responses you’d anticipated. To be fair — the question itself was rather unpredictable to start with.
“Ten-four. Just make sure you wrap it.”
Jake answering grin is lecherous when he turns to you. “Ah, come on, baby. You’re not gonna make me wrap it, are ya?”
Exaggerated heaving noises filter through the door. “I’m leaving.”
“Good riddance,” Hangman calls after him as you breathe out a sigh.
“Thank god.” Jake’s grip is still tight around you. Neither of you are exactly fighting to move just yet. Maybe that’s why his hands find your waist, lips trailing down the back of your neck and along your shoulder. Normally, you would’ve melted into it, but right now? Your stomach is doing somersault after somersault after the entire interaction. “Hangy,” you mumble, hearing his hum from behind you. “It’s dead.”
He chuckles as he sits back finally. “Dead as the table?” A sad laugh leaves you as you finally slip from his fingertips, standing up and looking at the wreckage below you.
“Oh yeah.” You nod, finally snagging your shirt from the floor and pulling it over your head. “Ashes to ashes.”
“Dust to dust,” Jake continues, slumped into the depths of the couch.
“Street trash to street trash.”
“Hey!” he corrects, brows furrowed, and you can’t help but giggle at your jab, relishing in your own amusement.
When the both of you finally sort yourselves out, you offer to help Jake carry what remains of the coffee table down four flights of stairs and out to the green dumpster in the parking lot. You set the broken pieces on the asphalt, stretching out your back slightly once it's down.
“Did you, uh…” With one of the legs in your hand, you point to the table before your eyes rise to meet Jake’s — facial features filled with annoyance. “Did you want to say something?” You gesture to the table, slapping the leg in your hand against your free palm.
“Shut up, Kody,” he snides, picking up the broken and disassembled parts of his table and throwing them into the dumpster.
“Alright, I’ll say something.” You look at the stained wood table leg in your hand, clearing your throat. “Ikea table–”
“Target,” Jake’s correction comes, leaving you to glance at him, nodding.
“Target table: Our acquaintance was short lived. Much like you were.”
Jake lets out a low chuckle, he’s trying to hide it, but he’s not doing a very good job of it.
“You were mediocre at best.”
“Excuse me?” Jake interrogates, an eyebrow raised in silent retaliation.
“I was talking to the table.” A scoff comes from him before he squats down to pull said table from its spot, up and into the dumpster as you hold the lid open. With a thud the lid returns to its closed position as Jake lays his table in its final resting place upon a bed of trash and brushes his hands free of dirt. He starts off in the direction of your car but even in the few feet he’s managed to get between you, you can hear him mumble under his breath.
“Brat.”
#jake seresin x reader#hangman x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#seresin x reader#top gun#top gun maverick
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