Summary : Jake goes through your drawing notebook and finds out why youâve never ever allowed so much as people approaching it.
Pairing : Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader
Important info : Your call sign is Lightning :)âĄïž
Disclaimer : English is not my first language so sorry for any grammatical errors that might have escaped my proofreading. I have no knowledge in the US Navy or military so sorry for any inaccuracies in that department. Also I donât draw and I do not have a single artistic bone in my body so sorry if this seems unrealistic or badly written !đ
âMickeyâŠâ you warned once, feeling him slowly creep up over your shoulder, trying to peek at the traits your hand was steadily tracing on the blank paper of your journal.
âOh come on, Iâve already seen your drawings, what, is the process secret defense or something ?â Mickey whined out, sounding as petulant as a child.
Momentarily stopping, you kept your journal close to your chest, hiding its content from his view. He whined, finally deciding to leave you be, choosing instead to go slump on the opposite couch, while making it known just how unfair and mean you were for refusing to get him out of his lethal boredom.
Your morning training flight had ended thirty minutes ago, and Maverick had needed to attend some last minute meeting with Cyclone, leaving you in the briefing room, waiting for his remarks on each of your flying. Everyone had found a way to occupy themselves, except Mickey, who kept bothering everyone, trying to find something that heâd deem amusing enough to focus all his attention on.
Heâd already gone to Natasha who had quickly sent him packing, choosing this rare free time to catch up on some paperwork the baseâs administrators had been begging her to send for three months.
Bob had been kind enough to propose to share his book with him, but he refused, claiming it was too boring. And you suspected that he had actually found something to do, and that that thing was simply to annoy all of you, who were calmly waiting for the return of your instructor.
His next victim had been you.
You should have guessed it, truly. Peacefully sitting on the couch, tracing lines in your drawing notebook, eyes flicking discreetly every so often to the pool table, where Reuben, Javy and Jake were engaging in a pretty wild game of table football.
âCan I just look at one page, please ?â Mickey tried again, putting on the best puppy dog eyes he could conjure.
âNo.â
No one had ever even glanced at your drawing notebook. Even though youâd always carry it around, whipping it out if you had a rare moment of rest during your busy life on base, everyone had learned to respect that boundary, no matter how futile it seemed to some.
âLeave her, Fanboy. She just doesnât want you to see the naked men she draws in there,â Jake snickered from his spot at the table football.
You simply flipped him off, not even rewarding him with a stare.
Despite your notebook being so firmly guarded, everyone knew you drew beautifully. If they were honest, beautifully wasnât even cutting it.
While your notebook was strictly off limit, youâd let them see when youâd lazily and mindlessly let your pencil graze the paper of a torn up blank page. They never ceased to be amazed at your âtalentâ, and theyâd always let you know whenever they had the chance. Which, itâs not that you hated it, but the word âtalentâ rubbed you the wrong way. This was no talent, it was years of hard work and practice, none of this had come your way the first time you had grabbed a pencil, and yet, the squad always made you out to be some kind of prodigee.
Everyone knew you drew portraits the best.
The first time it truly hit them was during one particularly boring meeting where Cyclone was just up everyoneâs asses and complaining about how none of you ever bothered to do the administration work you were required to do. His scolding wasnât new, youâd at least get one of these meeting every month, so it wasnât something you all took too seriously. After a few minutes of sketching you passed off as pretending to take notes, you elbowed Natasha, snickering a bit as you showed her the piece of paper on which you had made Cycloneâs angry face come to life.
But the chuckling you had expected never came. In its place, Natashaâs eyes were wide open, in complete awe of the pencil sketch you had presented her. She quickly, and the more discreetly she could, passed it around the table for everyone to see, pointing to you in pride when the other members of the squad would look, equally as amazed as she was.
Ever since that day, Mickey had begged you to draw a portrait of him. You had always refused, not exactly knowing why, maybe simply for the pleasure of seeing him pout at your constant refusal.
He had been greatly offended when one night you had casually handed Penny a sketch of her you had quicky drawn at the Hard Deck.
âShe gives me free drinks,â you had justified, a small smirk pulling at your lips.
âI have your life in my hands every-time weâre in the air, is that not enough for you ?â
One year, for his birthday, you had finally decided to grant him the one thing he kept begging you for. Mickey had literally screamed, yes screamed in sheer excitement when you had handed him the portrait you had drawn of him. It now stood proudly on his bedside table, adorned by a beautiful frame.
You drew beautifully, there was simply no other way to put in.
âPlease, Lightning, Iâll do your paperwork for a month if you let me see,â Mickey had resorted to bargaining.
âNo.â You said again, firmly camping on your position as the movement of your pencil grazing the page could faintly be heard.
âGood morning aviators.â A booming voice made every single one of you jump out.
And then immediately salute when you realized it was your commanding officer. Mickey nearly toppled over from how fast he stood up.
âCaptain Mitchell has some other matter to attend to. I reviewed all of your flight footage so Iâll be the one debriefing you today.â
You swore you audibly heard Reuben swallow next to you.
Your commanding officer wolfishly grinned, a terrifying indicator that this debrief wasnât really about to go as smoothly as when Maverick was directing it.
âLetâs move to briefing room three, shall we ?â He smiled, seemingly impatient to share his mind about the way you all flew.
Reluctantly, you all followed with a dutifully soldier step, though not without dread.
âYouâre gonna get chewed up, man.â Javy whispered to Jake, snickering.
And he did. After absolutely destroying him, Maverick would have at least, discreetly, praised the risky maneuver he had pulled off.
But commanding officer Whitman was nothing like Maverick. After words that were anything but kind about his flying style, he was sent back to the main briefing room, like a child sentenced to think about his behavior.
Jake guessed he had maybe grown too accustomed to Maverick being somehow of an older and just as reckless version of him that he had forgotten that most of the moves he pulled could get anyone not only written up, but grounded, for good.
Jake sat down with a sight, the feeling of having been scolded like a child, something that hadnât happened since the Naval Academy, sitting heavily on his chest. He groaned when he felt that he had carelessly sat down on something, the futile action only serving to upset him more after what he had endured a few doors down.
But all irritation suddenly vanished when he lifted himself to glare at the object daring to pester his sulking.
He froze.
Lying there, rarely unsupervised, was your drawing notebook, Sitting neatly where you must have dropped it when Commander Whitman had walked in.
The light green cover was a little worn out from you carrying it every where you went. He gently picked it up, took it out from under him so he could sit down again. His fingers hesitantly toyed with one corner, debating on opening it.
Why were you so adamant about no one looking through it anyway ?
While he mainly joked about it, Jake was convinced you were actually drawing naked people in there. What other reason would there be for your constant refusal ? You were talented as hell, wouldnât you want to share that with everyone ?
Jake spent more time than heâd like to admit just watching you, nose buried in that stupid notebook, sketching away God knows what. The little furrow in your brow when you seemed to draw something just a tiny bit difficult, though he knew without seeing it that itâd look effortless no matter how much of a struggle you seemed to display.
His stare was fixed on the notebook in his hands. There would be no way for you to know he had gone through it if he put it back in the same spot, right ? He would just have a quick, harmless look. Besides, it wasnât like he would be reading through your diary, it wasnât anything too imitate.
And besides, he figured that if you did find out, it wouldnât be the end of the world. Youâd scream at him, sure, but again, it wouldnât be different from any other day, no matter how hard he wished it wasnât the case.
Still, he found himself still hesitating. Even if you never found out, it was basic respect to honor a boundary you had made abundantly clear throughout the years. But just as he was about to, though not reluctantly, put the precious notebook back down, curiosity with a mix of self deprecation, knowing that at least now youâd have a real reason for disliking him, made him open it.
Andâ
Well.
To say that it was underwhelming would be a tremendous understatement.
The first page greeted him with the beautiful sight of a Lily. Though, perfectly drawn, it seemed to be taunting him. Was this really what he had defied your prohibition for ?
Why would you even hide this ? Oh, what, did you think the flower was out of proportion ? Embarassed because you hadnât drawn the petals as accurately as Mother Nature had carefully crafted them ? He had a little chuckle to himself, yeah, that was probably why. You thought your work was shit even thought it looked straight out like a Lily seed had been planted in your pages and you had dutifully took care of it to grow it into the beautiful flower staring back at him right now.
Pages after pages, he was met with objects from your daily life, drinks from the Hard Deck, a sunset at the beach, flowers that grew behind the base... One particular drawing of your F/A-18 that looked like one of the engineer on base had themselves drawn it had him staring a bit longer. And he found himself wondering just how many hours you had put into this, into all of this. How many years did it take for you to master life around you so effortlessly ?
He continued to turn the pages, snatched away by the beauty of your work. Jake was almost halfway through it when he suddenly froze.
A mirror was his first thought.
It felt like looking in a mirror.
His own face was staring back at him on the page, the only difference was the serious air he was harboring on the drawing, a huge contrast to his jaw hanging open at the sight of it.
He didnât even have that fleeting second of astonishment, of doubt, of âoh my god is that me ?â. Because there was no place for doubt. It was, undeniably, him.
After the moment of shock had passed, his heart began to pound in his chest to the point it was almost painful. His eyes flicked to the page right next to it, him again. A small smile stretching his lips and a toothpick in between his teeth.
Jake stayed in what felt like a long time just staring at the perfect pencil drawing of his face. The knowledge that you had been the one to delicately trace every line of his face was spreading a warmth all throughout his body. He felt a flush bloom from his neck all the way to his ears and he laughed slightly, embarrassed by his own reaction.
Jesus, these were only drawings, he tried to reason himself. You drew people often, hell you had even drawn Commander Whitman in various state of fury a dozen of times, though his pounding heart didnât seem to agree.
Willing himself to move on, he turned the pageâ
His breath got caught in his lungs.
The next page showed three little sketches of him, all different emotions that somehow covered a good part of the wild range of his personality.
On one he was harboring his usual cocky expression, smirk stretching his lips wide, eyebrows slightly raised in a defying air, and there even was a teasing and arrogant twinkle in his eye that made the drawing seem all the more alive.
The one right next to it showed his profile, head looking down at what he guessed was a pre flight checking list. Expression closed, focused, like every pilot ought to be while checking the plane that would bring them up to fifty thousand feet in the air.
The last of the three little sketches showed his upper half, a cue stick in hand, a genuine smile, staring off into the distance, where normally the Hard Deck pool table would be. But there was no scenery, only him. Happiness and relaxation evident in the way he held himself.
His heart wasnât exactly beating the way it should, a weird mix of a flutter and a stutter that made his whole chest feel tight.
Jake felt seen.
And seen by your eyes, you, was the greatest honor he could think of.
His eyes widen when he saw the next page. Taking up almost the entire paper, he was drawn down to his midthighs. Swimsuit sitting low on his hips, Adonis belt on full view, abs carefully defined, puffed up chest, a grin illuminating his face and sunglasses to hide his precious green eyes from the sun.
Jesus fucking Christ, you had even gotten the mole on the left side of his hips. His flush only worsened, made him feel like his whole body was on fire. The harsh fabric of his flight suit suddenly feeling like too much on his feverish, sensitive skin.
Jake exhaled shakily. It felt overwhelming, and overwhelming wasnât even cutting it.
His hands acted on their own as he continued to turn the pages. Each filled with images of him. Because to him, they were images. Not drawings. Images you had wanted to capture, keep a piece of. Stolen moments you had wanted to keep ingrained on paper, had wanted to keep him.
Almost half of your notebook was of him. He got to the last page you had drawn on.
A close up on his face from his neck. The brightest smile illuminating his features, the kind that allowed the creases near his eyes to make an appearance. A glint in his gaze that made him look warm, loving, almost tender like.
Writings at the bottom of the page caught his attention. The date was marked, like all the other drawings, he realized.
He frowned reading it.
The date on that last drawing was marked from the day before⊠which was a Sunday.
âŠ.You hadnât seen each other on Sunday.
Something short circuited in his brain and in his heart.
Did that mean you were able to draw him by memory alone ? That you had every crease, every hair, every mole, freckle, every line of his face so deeply ingrained in your brain that you were able to render them that faithfully without even looking at him ?
It felt dizzying.
Eyes still transfixed on the drawing, steps coming from the hallway got him out of his trance and without thinking, he shoved the notebook into his flight suit.
âHow did it go ?â He tried for casual as the rest of you walked in.
âListen man, he even gave me shit,â Mickey complained, seeming still offended by what had happened, âI donât even fly the goddamn plane !â
By the look on all of your faces, Whitman didnât have anything nice to say to any of you.
Jake felt his heart stutter when his gaze shifted towards you, who were engrossed in a conversation with Natasha, most likely bitching about the debrief. It felt weird, to see you like that, knowing how you carefully sketched him every change you got.
You caught his gaze and frowned.
âWhat are you looking at, Hangman ?â
He smiled, and he wasnât exactly sure if it turned out like a smirk or a genuine one.
âNothing, darlinâ.â
You rolled your eyes and Jake could decipher the smallest quirk of your lips, the lightest blush on your cheeks and wondered if it had always been there but just been too blind to see it.
You didnât say anything about your notebook, didnât seem to notice it was missing, too distracted by the morningâs event.
That night, Jake went home with the notebook. He didnât quite have the heart to let go of it yet. Lying wide awake in his bed, with what had become a precious artifact, open, he kept staring at that very last page. Carefully, heâd trace the lines out with his fingers, in adoration of the way you saw him. Touch over every brush of the pencil you had evidently, carefully thought about.
He struggled to find sleep, whenever he would finally turn off the light, it would only take minutes before heâd turn it on again, grab the notebook and flip through it. He felt like his insides were melting every time his eyes raked through the pages.
Knowing he had been your secret muse all this time was setting a new desire alight in his chest, burning as fiery hot as a SuperHornet engine. Jake wanted, almost foolishly, to pose for you. Look into your eyes as youâd trace every single line of his face, body and soul, knowing you wouldnât even have to stare at him to get him perfectly, down to every detail.
When he finally managed to fall asleep, you visited his every dream, and being haunted had never sounded so delightful.
âWhere the fuck is it,â you grumbled under your breath, frantically moving the couch cushions around.
It was only when you were already at home that you noticed the very unusual absence of your drawing notebook. The realisation that you had forgotten it on base was scary. But the realisation you had in this instant, as you had come earlier than usual to look for it, that perhaps you hadnât simply forgotten but downright lost it, was terrifying. You trusted your squadmates enough to believe that they would respect your boundary even without yourself present to firmly remind them of it, but what if any other people found it ?
God, youâd actually have to transfer base.
âYou looking for something ?â
You jumped and grabbed at your chest where your heart had a similar reaction as you turned around.
âJesus Christ, Seresin ! Donât sneak up on me like that !â
âIf I really wanted to sneak up on you, sweetheart, I can assure you I wouldnât have announced myself quite this loud.â
Your eyes rolled automatically, a reflex you had taught yourself a long time ago whenever Jake spoke.
âYeah, right, thank you, you can leave nââ
You stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes fixed on Jakeâs right hand and what it was holding.
Jake saw you freeze and suddenly he lost the cocky edge. He cleared his throat.
âI think you forgot this yesterday.â He now held the notebook in both hands in front him, but not quite holding it out for you yet.
You didnât dare to meet his eyes, because you knew, without even him saying anything, you knew. He had gone through it. Mortification couldnât even begin to describe the feelings going through you as you stayed there, just staring at your notebook in his hands. Somehow, despite this situation being your worst nightmare, in the back of your mind something told you that in between Jakeâs hands, the notebook felt at its right place. The muse holding close to him every piece of art he had inspired.
You knew. And Jake obviously knew you knew.
âYouâre very talented.â He finally said, trying to break the silence.
âItâs not talent itâsââ
âHard work,â he finished with a small, endeared, smile. âI know. And it shows, how hard you work I mean. Itâs beautiful.â
You gulped. âWhat is ?â
âAll of it.â
A pitt was forming in your stomach. You hated how he was dancing around it, hated how careful he was around the subject and a small part of you wished he could have just laughed at you, made some cocky remark, at least that way youâd have gotten some reaction out of him. You didnât truly understand his behavior, did he think he was showing you mercy after going through the most intimate item in your life, one that was practically a pathway into your mind and heart ?
You cleared your throat, knowing youâd have to be the one to address the obvious elephant in the room.
âAre you not gonna ask why I draw you over and over again like a maniac ?â You asked, trying to sound jaded and uninterested despite the beating of your heart.
The smile that stretched his lips was soft.
âI donât need to.â
Something in you bloomed at the way he looked at you.
Jake finally handed you the notebook, which you took with shaky hands that you struggled to hide.
You both stood in silence for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Dancing on your feet, you chewed the inside of your cheek. What the fuck were you supposed to say ? This felt like too big of a conversation to have at six in the morning just before the morning flight.
âYouââ you immediately cringed at the way your voice was strained and cleared your throat, âdo you wanna take one ?â You offered, eyes looking everywhere but directly at his eyes.
His eyes seemed to widen in barely hidden shock before he schooled himself.
âOf course I do, you know Iâd never missed an opportunity to have my own face hanging around my place.â
You chuckled, feeling at ease by the way he lifted off a bit of the emotional tension. You handed him the notebook back, him holding it didnât look as terrifying now.
âHere, choose and just rip it out.â
Youâd thought heâd take some time to think about it, ponder about his decision, but no. Jake opened your notebook with a speed and ease that suggested he knew exactly what he was looking for, and he did, landing at the last page. Jake showed it to you.
âCan I ?â
You nodded, temporally surprised by his overly respectful behavior. He laid the notebook down on the nearby table and began to carefully rip the page.
When he finished, he handed it back to you, keeping the page he had ripped for him.
âThank you.â
Silence filled the room again. And when you finally dared to lift your gaze and look in his eyes, it almost took your breath away. How gently, how patiently he was looking at you, a small, almost encouraging smile on his lips. You realized that he was waiting for you to talk, allowing you to take that next step and you guessed it was only natural. You were the one drawing his face everywhere in your notebook like a psychopath. He didnât need to ask, he had said. Didnât mean that in his heart he wasnât dying for you to say it out loud.
You took in a big breath, and took a step towards him. A small physical reconciliation that you hoped youâd be able to morph into an emotional one.
âListen, Seresin, Iââ
The sudden boom of the door bursting open made both of you jerk back from each other.
âDamn,â Mickey whistled, âyouâre here early.â
The rest of the squad followed close behind him, and most of them were barely able to hide the small, knowing smile pulling at their lips. Mickey seemed to be the only one confused.
âHey, did we interrupt somethiââ
Bob elbowed him before he could finish his sentence, and he only shot his friend a death glare when he loudly exclaimed his pain and whined about âwhat was that for ?!â.
You hurriedly scurried back to your usual spot on the couch, feeling caught red handed even though you had only been standing in front of one another. Jake, much more relaxed than you, settled down next to Javy on the other couch, across the room and facing you.
You feigned a normal behavior by opening your notebook, about to pretend to draw like your world hadnât shifted on its axis just a few seconds before.
Right as you opened it, something fell right from between the pages and into your lap. Frowning, you picked it up. It was a folded piece of paper, you carefully opened it and felt your heart stutter in your chest.
On the paper were drawn two very simple stick figures. Though, simple, they were very recognizable. It was you and Jake. The fucker had drawn himself with an eight pack and it tear a quiet laugh from you.
The two stick figures were holding hands and their mouth lines were quirked up in happy smiles. Objectively, it looked bad, primary children level. But it was his. He had drawn that while thinking of you.
Warmth bloomed throughout your body and you looked up, searching Jakeâs gaze. You didnât have to search long because he was already looking at you, awaiting your reaction. Truth be told, you donât exactly know what you did, perhaps you bit your lip, shyly smiled, or even simply stared at him in astonishment, whatever you did, it seemed to please him.
Jake smiled. And he suddenly looked exactly as you had drawn him on that page that now had found a new place in the front pocket of his flight suit. A sight that would have blinded you had you not learned to love its brightness.
And without thinking, almost on instinct, you picked up your pencil.
Authorâs note : omg it felt like such a long time since Iâve written for my babyyyy !! Just some little fluff, hope you like it !đđ
Also is this projection about me wanting to be any good at any sort of art ? Yes it might. And the title sucks because I couldnât, for the life of me, find something else.
Alsoooo, I feel like lately my fics have been having very little dialogue and a lot of internal thoughts about feelings and stuff ? Is that annoying to read ? Please be honest guys
Summary : Jake goes through your drawing notebook and finds out why youâve never ever allowed so much as people approaching it.
Pairing : Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader
Important info : Your call sign is Lightning :)âĄïž
Disclaimer : English is not my first language so sorry for any grammatical errors that might have escaped my proofreading. I have no knowledge in the US Navy or military so sorry for any inaccuracies in that department. Also I donât draw and I do not have a single artistic bone in my body so sorry if this seems unrealistic or badly written !đ
âMickeyâŠâ you warned once, feeling him slowly creep up over your shoulder, trying to peek at the traits your hand was steadily tracing on the blank paper of your journal.
âOh come on, Iâve already seen your drawings, what, is the process secret defense or something ?â Mickey whined out, sounding as petulant as a child.
Momentarily stopping, you kept your journal close to your chest, hiding its content from his view. He whined, finally deciding to leave you be, choosing instead to go slump on the opposite couch, while making it known just how unfair and mean you were for refusing to get him out of his lethal boredom.
Your morning training flight had ended thirty minutes ago, and Maverick had needed to attend some last minute meeting with Cyclone, leaving you in the briefing room, waiting for his remarks on each of your flying. Everyone had found a way to occupy themselves, except Mickey, who kept bothering everyone, trying to find something that heâd deem amusing enough to focus all his attention on.
Heâd already gone to Natasha who had quickly sent him packing, choosing this rare free time to catch up on some paperwork the baseâs administrators had been begging her to send for three months.
Bob had been kind enough to propose to share his book with him, but he refused, claiming it was too boring. And you suspected that he had actually found something to do, and that that thing was simply to annoy all of you, who were calmly waiting for the return of your instructor.
His next victim had been you.
You should have guessed it, truly. Peacefully sitting on the couch, tracing lines in your drawing notebook, eyes flicking discreetly every so often to the pool table, where Reuben, Javy and Jake were engaging in a pretty wild game of table football.
âCan I just look at one page, please ?â Mickey tried again, putting on the best puppy dog eyes he could conjure.
âNo.â
No one had ever even glanced at your drawing notebook. Even though youâd always carry it around, whipping it out if you had a rare moment of rest during your busy life on base, everyone had learned to respect that boundary, no matter how futile it seemed to some.
âLeave her, Fanboy. She just doesnât want you to see the naked men she draws in there,â Jake snickered from his spot at the table football.
You simply flipped him off, not even rewarding him with a stare.
Despite your notebook being so firmly guarded, everyone knew you drew beautifully. If they were honest, beautifully wasnât even cutting it.
While your notebook was strictly off limit, youâd let them see when youâd lazily and mindlessly let your pencil graze the paper of a torn up blank page. They never ceased to be amazed at your âtalentâ, and theyâd always let you know whenever they had the chance. Which, itâs not that you hated it, but the word âtalentâ rubbed you the wrong way. This was no talent, it was years of hard work and practice, none of this had come your way the first time you had grabbed a pencil, and yet, the squad always made you out to be some kind of prodigee.
Everyone knew you drew portraits the best.
The first time it truly hit them was during one particularly boring meeting where Cyclone was just up everyoneâs asses and complaining about how none of you ever bothered to do the administration work you were required to do. His scolding wasnât new, youâd at least get one of these meeting every month, so it wasnât something you all took too seriously. After a few minutes of sketching you passed off as pretending to take notes, you elbowed Natasha, snickering a bit as you showed her the piece of paper on which you had made Cycloneâs angry face come to life.
But the chuckling you had expected never came. In its place, Natashaâs eyes were wide open, in complete awe of the pencil sketch you had presented her. She quickly, and the more discreetly she could, passed it around the table for everyone to see, pointing to you in pride when the other members of the squad would look, equally as amazed as she was.
Ever since that day, Mickey had begged you to draw a portrait of him. You had always refused, not exactly knowing why, maybe simply for the pleasure of seeing him pout at your constant refusal.
He had been greatly offended when one night you had casually handed Penny a sketch of her you had quicky drawn at the Hard Deck.
âShe gives me free drinks,â you had justified, a small smirk pulling at your lips.
âI have your life in my hands every-time weâre in the air, is that not enough for you ?â
One year, for his birthday, you had finally decided to grant him the one thing he kept begging you for. Mickey had literally screamed, yes screamed in sheer excitement when you had handed him the portrait you had drawn of him. It now stood proudly on his bedside table, adorned by a beautiful frame.
You drew beautifully, there was simply no other way to put in.
âPlease, Lightning, Iâll do your paperwork for a month if you let me see,â Mickey had resorted to bargaining.
âNo.â You said again, firmly camping on your position as the movement of your pencil grazing the page could faintly be heard.
âGood morning aviators.â A booming voice made every single one of you jump out.
And then immediately salute when you realized it was your commanding officer. Mickey nearly toppled over from how fast he stood up.
âCaptain Mitchell has some other matter to attend to. I reviewed all of your flight footage so Iâll be the one debriefing you today.â
You swore you audibly heard Reuben swallow next to you.
Your commanding officer wolfishly grinned, a terrifying indicator that this debrief wasnât really about to go as smoothly as when Maverick was directing it.
âLetâs move to briefing room three, shall we ?â He smiled, seemingly impatient to share his mind about the way you all flew.
Reluctantly, you all followed with a dutifully soldier step, though not without dread.
âYouâre gonna get chewed up, man.â Javy whispered to Jake, snickering.
And he did. After absolutely destroying him, Maverick would have at least, discreetly, praised the risky maneuver he had pulled off.
But commanding officer Whitman was nothing like Maverick. After words that were anything but kind about his flying style, he was sent back to the main briefing room, like a child sentenced to think about his behavior.
Jake guessed he had maybe grown too accustomed to Maverick being somehow of an older and just as reckless version of him that he had forgotten that most of the moves he pulled could get anyone not only written up, but grounded, for good.
Jake sat down with a sight, the feeling of having been scolded like a child, something that hadnât happened since the Naval Academy, sitting heavily on his chest. He groaned when he felt that he had carelessly sat down on something, the futile action only serving to upset him more after what he had endured a few doors down.
But all irritation suddenly vanished when he lifted himself to glare at the object daring to pester his sulking.
He froze.
Lying there, rarely unsupervised, was your drawing notebook, Sitting neatly where you must have dropped it when Commander Whitman had walked in.
The light green cover was a little worn out from you carrying it every where you went. He gently picked it up, took it out from under him so he could sit down again. His fingers hesitantly toyed with one corner, debating on opening it.
Why were you so adamant about no one looking through it anyway ?
While he mainly joked about it, Jake was convinced you were actually drawing naked people in there. What other reason would there be for your constant refusal ? You were talented as hell, wouldnât you want to share that with everyone ?
Jake spent more time than heâd like to admit just watching you, nose buried in that stupid notebook, sketching away God knows what. The little furrow in your brow when you seemed to draw something just a tiny bit difficult, though he knew without seeing it that itâd look effortless no matter how much of a struggle you seemed to display.
His stare was fixed on the notebook in his hands. There would be no way for you to know he had gone through it if he put it back in the same spot, right ? He would just have a quick, harmless look. Besides, it wasnât like he would be reading through your diary, it wasnât anything too imitate.
And besides, he figured that if you did find out, it wouldnât be the end of the world. Youâd scream at him, sure, but again, it wouldnât be different from any other day, no matter how hard he wished it wasnât the case.
Still, he found himself still hesitating. Even if you never found out, it was basic respect to honor a boundary you had made abundantly clear throughout the years. But just as he was about to, though not reluctantly, put the precious notebook back down, curiosity with a mix of self deprecation, knowing that at least now youâd have a real reason for disliking him, made him open it.
Andâ
Well.
To say that it was underwhelming would be a tremendous understatement.
The first page greeted him with the beautiful sight of a Lily. Though, perfectly drawn, it seemed to be taunting him. Was this really what he had defied your prohibition for ?
Why would you even hide this ? Oh, what, did you think the flower was out of proportion ? Embarassed because you hadnât drawn the petals as accurately as Mother Nature had carefully crafted them ? He had a little chuckle to himself, yeah, that was probably why. You thought your work was shit even thought it looked straight out like a Lily seed had been planted in your pages and you had dutifully took care of it to grow it into the beautiful flower staring back at him right now.
Pages after pages, he was met with objects from your daily life, drinks from the Hard Deck, a sunset at the beach, flowers that grew behind the base... One particular drawing of your F/A-18 that looked like one of the engineer on base had themselves drawn it had him staring a bit longer. And he found himself wondering just how many hours you had put into this, into all of this. How many years did it take for you to master life around you so effortlessly ?
He continued to turn the pages, snatched away by the beauty of your work. Jake was almost halfway through it when he suddenly froze.
A mirror was his first thought.
It felt like looking in a mirror.
His own face was staring back at him on the page, the only difference was the serious air he was harboring on the drawing, a huge contrast to his jaw hanging open at the sight of it.
He didnât even have that fleeting second of astonishment, of doubt, of âoh my god is that me ?â. Because there was no place for doubt. It was, undeniably, him.
After the moment of shock had passed, his heart began to pound in his chest to the point it was almost painful. His eyes flicked to the page right next to it, him again. A small smile stretching his lips and a toothpick in between his teeth.
Jake stayed in what felt like a long time just staring at the perfect pencil drawing of his face. The knowledge that you had been the one to delicately trace every line of his face was spreading a warmth all throughout his body. He felt a flush bloom from his neck all the way to his ears and he laughed slightly, embarrassed by his own reaction.
Jesus, these were only drawings, he tried to reason himself. You drew people often, hell you had even drawn Commander Whitman in various state of fury a dozen of times, though his pounding heart didnât seem to agree.
Willing himself to move on, he turned the pageâ
His breath got caught in his lungs.
The next page showed three little sketches of him, all different emotions that somehow covered a good part of the wild range of his personality.
On one he was harboring his usual cocky expression, smirk stretching his lips wide, eyebrows slightly raised in a defying air, and there even was a teasing and arrogant twinkle in his eye that made the drawing seem all the more alive.
The one right next to it showed his profile, head looking down at what he guessed was a pre flight checking list. Expression closed, focused, like every pilot ought to be while checking the plane that would bring them up to fifty thousand feet in the air.
The last of the three little sketches showed his upper half, a cue stick in hand, a genuine smile, staring off into the distance, where normally the Hard Deck pool table would be. But there was no scenery, only him. Happiness and relaxation evident in the way he held himself.
His heart wasnât exactly beating the way it should, a weird mix of a flutter and a stutter that made his whole chest feel tight.
Jake felt seen.
And seen by your eyes, you, was the greatest honor he could think of.
His eyes widen when he saw the next page. Taking up almost the entire paper, he was drawn down to his midthighs. Swimsuit sitting low on his hips, Adonis belt on full view, abs carefully defined, puffed up chest, a grin illuminating his face and sunglasses to hide his precious green eyes from the sun.
Jesus fucking Christ, you had even gotten the mole on the left side of his hips. His flush only worsened, made him feel like his whole body was on fire. The harsh fabric of his flight suit suddenly feeling like too much on his feverish, sensitive skin.
Jake exhaled shakily. It felt overwhelming, and overwhelming wasnât even cutting it.
His hands acted on their own as he continued to turn the pages. Each filled with images of him. Because to him, they were images. Not drawings. Images you had wanted to capture, keep a piece of. Stolen moments you had wanted to keep ingrained on paper, had wanted to keep him.
Almost half of your notebook was of him. He got to the last page you had drawn on.
A close up on his face from his neck. The brightest smile illuminating his features, the kind that allowed the creases near his eyes to make an appearance. A glint in his gaze that made him look warm, loving, almost tender like.
Writings at the bottom of the page caught his attention. The date was marked, like all the other drawings, he realized.
He frowned reading it.
The date on that last drawing was marked from the day before⊠which was a Sunday.
âŠ.You hadnât seen each other on Sunday.
Something short circuited in his brain and in his heart.
Did that mean you were able to draw him by memory alone ? That you had every crease, every hair, every mole, freckle, every line of his face so deeply ingrained in your brain that you were able to render them that faithfully without even looking at him ?
It felt dizzying.
Eyes still transfixed on the drawing, steps coming from the hallway got him out of his trance and without thinking, he shoved the notebook into his flight suit.
âHow did it go ?â He tried for casual as the rest of you walked in.
âListen man, he even gave me shit,â Mickey complained, seeming still offended by what had happened, âI donât even fly the goddamn plane !â
By the look on all of your faces, Whitman didnât have anything nice to say to any of you.
Jake felt his heart stutter when his gaze shifted towards you, who were engrossed in a conversation with Natasha, most likely bitching about the debrief. It felt weird, to see you like that, knowing how you carefully sketched him every change you got.
You caught his gaze and frowned.
âWhat are you looking at, Hangman ?â
He smiled, and he wasnât exactly sure if it turned out like a smirk or a genuine one.
âNothing, darlinâ.â
You rolled your eyes and Jake could decipher the smallest quirk of your lips, the lightest blush on your cheeks and wondered if it had always been there but just been too blind to see it.
You didnât say anything about your notebook, didnât seem to notice it was missing, too distracted by the morningâs event.
That night, Jake went home with the notebook. He didnât quite have the heart to let go of it yet. Lying wide awake in his bed, with what had become a precious artifact, open, he kept staring at that very last page. Carefully, heâd trace the lines out with his fingers, in adoration of the way you saw him. Touch over every brush of the pencil you had evidently, carefully thought about.
He struggled to find sleep, whenever he would finally turn off the light, it would only take minutes before heâd turn it on again, grab the notebook and flip through it. He felt like his insides were melting every time his eyes raked through the pages.
Knowing he had been your secret muse all this time was setting a new desire alight in his chest, burning as fiery hot as a SuperHornet engine. Jake wanted, almost foolishly, to pose for you. Look into your eyes as youâd trace every single line of his face, body and soul, knowing you wouldnât even have to stare at him to get him perfectly, down to every detail.
When he finally managed to fall asleep, you visited his every dream, and being haunted had never sounded so delightful.
âWhere the fuck is it,â you grumbled under your breath, frantically moving the couch cushions around.
It was only when you were already at home that you noticed the very unusual absence of your drawing notebook. The realisation that you had forgotten it on base was scary. But the realisation you had in this instant, as you had come earlier than usual to look for it, that perhaps you hadnât simply forgotten but downright lost it, was terrifying. You trusted your squadmates enough to believe that they would respect your boundary even without yourself present to firmly remind them of it, but what if any other people found it ?
God, youâd actually have to transfer base.
âYou looking for something ?â
You jumped and grabbed at your chest where your heart had a similar reaction as you turned around.
âJesus Christ, Seresin ! Donât sneak up on me like that !â
âIf I really wanted to sneak up on you, sweetheart, I can assure you I wouldnât have announced myself quite this loud.â
Your eyes rolled automatically, a reflex you had taught yourself a long time ago whenever Jake spoke.
âYeah, right, thank you, you can leave nââ
You stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes fixed on Jakeâs right hand and what it was holding.
Jake saw you freeze and suddenly he lost the cocky edge. He cleared his throat.
âI think you forgot this yesterday.â He now held the notebook in both hands in front him, but not quite holding it out for you yet.
You didnât dare to meet his eyes, because you knew, without even him saying anything, you knew. He had gone through it. Mortification couldnât even begin to describe the feelings going through you as you stayed there, just staring at your notebook in his hands. Somehow, despite this situation being your worst nightmare, in the back of your mind something told you that in between Jakeâs hands, the notebook felt at its right place. The muse holding close to him every piece of art he had inspired.
You knew. And Jake obviously knew you knew.
âYouâre very talented.â He finally said, trying to break the silence.
âItâs not talent itâsââ
âHard work,â he finished with a small, endeared, smile. âI know. And it shows, how hard you work I mean. Itâs beautiful.â
You gulped. âWhat is ?â
âAll of it.â
A pitt was forming in your stomach. You hated how he was dancing around it, hated how careful he was around the subject and a small part of you wished he could have just laughed at you, made some cocky remark, at least that way youâd have gotten some reaction out of him. You didnât truly understand his behavior, did he think he was showing you mercy after going through the most intimate item in your life, one that was practically a pathway into your mind and heart ?
You cleared your throat, knowing youâd have to be the one to address the obvious elephant in the room.
âAre you not gonna ask why I draw you over and over again like a maniac ?â You asked, trying to sound jaded and uninterested despite the beating of your heart.
The smile that stretched his lips was soft.
âI donât need to.â
Something in you bloomed at the way he looked at you.
Jake finally handed you the notebook, which you took with shaky hands that you struggled to hide.
You both stood in silence for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Dancing on your feet, you chewed the inside of your cheek. What the fuck were you supposed to say ? This felt like too big of a conversation to have at six in the morning just before the morning flight.
âYouââ you immediately cringed at the way your voice was strained and cleared your throat, âdo you wanna take one ?â You offered, eyes looking everywhere but directly at his eyes.
His eyes seemed to widen in barely hidden shock before he schooled himself.
âOf course I do, you know Iâd never missed an opportunity to have my own face hanging around my place.â
You chuckled, feeling at ease by the way he lifted off a bit of the emotional tension. You handed him the notebook back, him holding it didnât look as terrifying now.
âHere, choose and just rip it out.â
Youâd thought heâd take some time to think about it, ponder about his decision, but no. Jake opened your notebook with a speed and ease that suggested he knew exactly what he was looking for, and he did, landing at the last page. Jake showed it to you.
âCan I ?â
You nodded, temporally surprised by his overly respectful behavior. He laid the notebook down on the nearby table and began to carefully rip the page.
When he finished, he handed it back to you, keeping the page he had ripped for him.
âThank you.â
Silence filled the room again. And when you finally dared to lift your gaze and look in his eyes, it almost took your breath away. How gently, how patiently he was looking at you, a small, almost encouraging smile on his lips. You realized that he was waiting for you to talk, allowing you to take that next step and you guessed it was only natural. You were the one drawing his face everywhere in your notebook like a psychopath. He didnât need to ask, he had said. Didnât mean that in his heart he wasnât dying for you to say it out loud.
You took in a big breath, and took a step towards him. A small physical reconciliation that you hoped youâd be able to morph into an emotional one.
âListen, Seresin, Iââ
The sudden boom of the door bursting open made both of you jerk back from each other.
âDamn,â Mickey whistled, âyouâre here early.â
The rest of the squad followed close behind him, and most of them were barely able to hide the small, knowing smile pulling at their lips. Mickey seemed to be the only one confused.
âHey, did we interrupt somethiââ
Bob elbowed him before he could finish his sentence, and he only shot his friend a death glare when he loudly exclaimed his pain and whined about âwhat was that for ?!â.
You hurriedly scurried back to your usual spot on the couch, feeling caught red handed even though you had only been standing in front of one another. Jake, much more relaxed than you, settled down next to Javy on the other couch, across the room and facing you.
You feigned a normal behavior by opening your notebook, about to pretend to draw like your world hadnât shifted on its axis just a few seconds before.
Right as you opened it, something fell right from between the pages and into your lap. Frowning, you picked it up. It was a folded piece of paper, you carefully opened it and felt your heart stutter in your chest.
On the paper were drawn two very simple stick figures. Though, simple, they were very recognizable. It was you and Jake. The fucker had drawn himself with an eight pack and it tear a quiet laugh from you.
The two stick figures were holding hands and their mouth lines were quirked up in happy smiles. Objectively, it looked bad, primary children level. But it was his. He had drawn that while thinking of you.
Warmth bloomed throughout your body and you looked up, searching Jakeâs gaze. You didnât have to search long because he was already looking at you, awaiting your reaction. Truth be told, you donât exactly know what you did, perhaps you bit your lip, shyly smiled, or even simply stared at him in astonishment, whatever you did, it seemed to please him.
Jake smiled. And he suddenly looked exactly as you had drawn him on that page that now had found a new place in the front pocket of his flight suit. A sight that would have blinded you had you not learned to love its brightness.
And without thinking, almost on instinct, you picked up your pencil.
Authorâs note : omg it felt like such a long time since Iâve written for my babyyyy !! Just some little fluff, hope you like it !đđ
Also is this projection about me wanting to be any good at any sort of art ? Yes it might. And the title sucks because I couldnât, for the life of me, find something else.
Alsoooo, I feel like lately my fics have been having very little dialogue and a lot of internal thoughts about feelings and stuff ? Is that annoying to read ? Please be honest guys
Lying wide awake in his bed, with what had become a precious artifact, open, he kept staring at that very last page. Carefully, heâd trace the lines out with his fingers, in adoration of the way you saw him. Touch over every brush of the pencil you had evidently, carefully thought about.
Iâm such a sucker for the soft Jake tropeđyou always write it so excellently girl!!!
Summary : Jake goes through your drawing notebook and finds out why youâve never ever allowed so much as people approaching it.
Pairing : Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader
Important info : Your call sign is Lightning :)âĄïž
Disclaimer : English is not my first language so sorry for any grammatical errors that might have escaped my proofreading. I have no knowledge in the US Navy or military so sorry for any inaccuracies in that department. Also I donât draw and I do not have a single artistic bone in my body so sorry if this seems unrealistic or badly written !đ
âMickeyâŠâ you warned once, feeling him slowly creep up over your shoulder, trying to peek at the traits your hand was steadily tracing on the blank paper of your journal.
âOh come on, Iâve already seen your drawings, what, is the process secret defense or something ?â Mickey whined out, sounding as petulant as a child.
Momentarily stopping, you kept your journal close to your chest, hiding its content from his view. He whined, finally deciding to leave you be, choosing instead to go slump on the opposite couch, while making it known just how unfair and mean you were for refusing to get him out of his lethal boredom.
Your morning training flight had ended thirty minutes ago, and Maverick had needed to attend some last minute meeting with Cyclone, leaving you in the briefing room, waiting for his remarks on each of your flying. Everyone had found a way to occupy themselves, except Mickey, who kept bothering everyone, trying to find something that heâd deem amusing enough to focus all his attention on.
Heâd already gone to Natasha who had quickly sent him packing, choosing this rare free time to catch up on some paperwork the baseâs administrators had been begging her to send for three months.
Bob had been kind enough to propose to share his book with him, but he refused, claiming it was too boring. And you suspected that he had actually found something to do, and that that thing was simply to annoy all of you, who were calmly waiting for the return of your instructor.
His next victim had been you.
You should have guessed it, truly. Peacefully sitting on the couch, tracing lines in your drawing notebook, eyes flicking discreetly every so often to the pool table, where Reuben, Javy and Jake were engaging in a pretty wild game of table football.
âCan I just look at one page, please ?â Mickey tried again, putting on the best puppy dog eyes he could conjure.
âNo.â
No one had ever even glanced at your drawing notebook. Even though youâd always carry it around, whipping it out if you had a rare moment of rest during your busy life on base, everyone had learned to respect that boundary, no matter how futile it seemed to some.
âLeave her, Fanboy. She just doesnât want you to see the naked men she draws in there,â Jake snickered from his spot at the table football.
You simply flipped him off, not even rewarding him with a stare.
Despite your notebook being so firmly guarded, everyone knew you drew beautifully. If they were honest, beautifully wasnât even cutting it.
While your notebook was strictly off limit, youâd let them see when youâd lazily and mindlessly let your pencil graze the paper of a torn up blank page. They never ceased to be amazed at your âtalentâ, and theyâd always let you know whenever they had the chance. Which, itâs not that you hated it, but the word âtalentâ rubbed you the wrong way. This was no talent, it was years of hard work and practice, none of this had come your way the first time you had grabbed a pencil, and yet, the squad always made you out to be some kind of prodigee.
Everyone knew you drew portraits the best.
The first time it truly hit them was during one particularly boring meeting where Cyclone was just up everyoneâs asses and complaining about how none of you ever bothered to do the administration work you were required to do. His scolding wasnât new, youâd at least get one of these meeting every month, so it wasnât something you all took too seriously. After a few minutes of sketching you passed off as pretending to take notes, you elbowed Natasha, snickering a bit as you showed her the piece of paper on which you had made Cycloneâs angry face come to life.
But the chuckling you had expected never came. In its place, Natashaâs eyes were wide open, in complete awe of the pencil sketch you had presented her. She quickly, and the more discreetly she could, passed it around the table for everyone to see, pointing to you in pride when the other members of the squad would look, equally as amazed as she was.
Ever since that day, Mickey had begged you to draw a portrait of him. You had always refused, not exactly knowing why, maybe simply for the pleasure of seeing him pout at your constant refusal.
He had been greatly offended when one night you had casually handed Penny a sketch of her you had quicky drawn at the Hard Deck.
âShe gives me free drinks,â you had justified, a small smirk pulling at your lips.
âI have your life in my hands every-time weâre in the air, is that not enough for you ?â
One year, for his birthday, you had finally decided to grant him the one thing he kept begging you for. Mickey had literally screamed, yes screamed in sheer excitement when you had handed him the portrait you had drawn of him. It now stood proudly on his bedside table, adorned by a beautiful frame.
You drew beautifully, there was simply no other way to put in.
âPlease, Lightning, Iâll do your paperwork for a month if you let me see,â Mickey had resorted to bargaining.
âNo.â You said again, firmly camping on your position as the movement of your pencil grazing the page could faintly be heard.
âGood morning aviators.â A booming voice made every single one of you jump out.
And then immediately salute when you realized it was your commanding officer. Mickey nearly toppled over from how fast he stood up.
âCaptain Mitchell has some other matter to attend to. I reviewed all of your flight footage so Iâll be the one debriefing you today.â
You swore you audibly heard Reuben swallow next to you.
Your commanding officer wolfishly grinned, a terrifying indicator that this debrief wasnât really about to go as smoothly as when Maverick was directing it.
âLetâs move to briefing room three, shall we ?â He smiled, seemingly impatient to share his mind about the way you all flew.
Reluctantly, you all followed with a dutifully soldier step, though not without dread.
âYouâre gonna get chewed up, man.â Javy whispered to Jake, snickering.
And he did. After absolutely destroying him, Maverick would have at least, discreetly, praised the risky maneuver he had pulled off.
But commanding officer Whitman was nothing like Maverick. After words that were anything but kind about his flying style, he was sent back to the main briefing room, like a child sentenced to think about his behavior.
Jake guessed he had maybe grown too accustomed to Maverick being somehow of an older and just as reckless version of him that he had forgotten that most of the moves he pulled could get anyone not only written up, but grounded, for good.
Jake sat down with a sight, the feeling of having been scolded like a child, something that hadnât happened since the Naval Academy, sitting heavily on his chest. He groaned when he felt that he had carelessly sat down on something, the futile action only serving to upset him more after what he had endured a few doors down.
But all irritation suddenly vanished when he lifted himself to glare at the object daring to pester his sulking.
He froze.
Lying there, rarely unsupervised, was your drawing notebook, Sitting neatly where you must have dropped it when Commander Whitman had walked in.
The light green cover was a little worn out from you carrying it every where you went. He gently picked it up, took it out from under him so he could sit down again. His fingers hesitantly toyed with one corner, debating on opening it.
Why were you so adamant about no one looking through it anyway ?
While he mainly joked about it, Jake was convinced you were actually drawing naked people in there. What other reason would there be for your constant refusal ? You were talented as hell, wouldnât you want to share that with everyone ?
Jake spent more time than heâd like to admit just watching you, nose buried in that stupid notebook, sketching away God knows what. The little furrow in your brow when you seemed to draw something just a tiny bit difficult, though he knew without seeing it that itâd look effortless no matter how much of a struggle you seemed to display.
His stare was fixed on the notebook in his hands. There would be no way for you to know he had gone through it if he put it back in the same spot, right ? He would just have a quick, harmless look. Besides, it wasnât like he would be reading through your diary, it wasnât anything too imitate.
And besides, he figured that if you did find out, it wouldnât be the end of the world. Youâd scream at him, sure, but again, it wouldnât be different from any other day, no matter how hard he wished it wasnât the case.
Still, he found himself still hesitating. Even if you never found out, it was basic respect to honor a boundary you had made abundantly clear throughout the years. But just as he was about to, though not reluctantly, put the precious notebook back down, curiosity with a mix of self deprecation, knowing that at least now youâd have a real reason for disliking him, made him open it.
Andâ
Well.
To say that it was underwhelming would be a tremendous understatement.
The first page greeted him with the beautiful sight of a Lily. Though, perfectly drawn, it seemed to be taunting him. Was this really what he had defied your prohibition for ?
Why would you even hide this ? Oh, what, did you think the flower was out of proportion ? Embarassed because you hadnât drawn the petals as accurately as Mother Nature had carefully crafted them ? He had a little chuckle to himself, yeah, that was probably why. You thought your work was shit even thought it looked straight out like a Lily seed had been planted in your pages and you had dutifully took care of it to grow it into the beautiful flower staring back at him right now.
Pages after pages, he was met with objects from your daily life, drinks from the Hard Deck, a sunset at the beach, flowers that grew behind the base... One particular drawing of your F/A-18 that looked like one of the engineer on base had themselves drawn it had him staring a bit longer. And he found himself wondering just how many hours you had put into this, into all of this. How many years did it take for you to master life around you so effortlessly ?
He continued to turn the pages, snatched away by the beauty of your work. Jake was almost halfway through it when he suddenly froze.
A mirror was his first thought.
It felt like looking in a mirror.
His own face was staring back at him on the page, the only difference was the serious air he was harboring on the drawing, a huge contrast to his jaw hanging open at the sight of it.
He didnât even have that fleeting second of astonishment, of doubt, of âoh my god is that me ?â. Because there was no place for doubt. It was, undeniably, him.
After the moment of shock had passed, his heart began to pound in his chest to the point it was almost painful. His eyes flicked to the page right next to it, him again. A small smile stretching his lips and a toothpick in between his teeth.
Jake stayed in what felt like a long time just staring at the perfect pencil drawing of his face. The knowledge that you had been the one to delicately trace every line of his face was spreading a warmth all throughout his body. He felt a flush bloom from his neck all the way to his ears and he laughed slightly, embarrassed by his own reaction.
Jesus, these were only drawings, he tried to reason himself. You drew people often, hell you had even drawn Commander Whitman in various state of fury a dozen of times, though his pounding heart didnât seem to agree.
Willing himself to move on, he turned the pageâ
His breath got caught in his lungs.
The next page showed three little sketches of him, all different emotions that somehow covered a good part of the wild range of his personality.
On one he was harboring his usual cocky expression, smirk stretching his lips wide, eyebrows slightly raised in a defying air, and there even was a teasing and arrogant twinkle in his eye that made the drawing seem all the more alive.
The one right next to it showed his profile, head looking down at what he guessed was a pre flight checking list. Expression closed, focused, like every pilot ought to be while checking the plane that would bring them up to fifty thousand feet in the air.
The last of the three little sketches showed his upper half, a cue stick in hand, a genuine smile, staring off into the distance, where normally the Hard Deck pool table would be. But there was no scenery, only him. Happiness and relaxation evident in the way he held himself.
His heart wasnât exactly beating the way it should, a weird mix of a flutter and a stutter that made his whole chest feel tight.
Jake felt seen.
And seen by your eyes, you, was the greatest honor he could think of.
His eyes widen when he saw the next page. Taking up almost the entire paper, he was drawn down to his midthighs. Swimsuit sitting low on his hips, Adonis belt on full view, abs carefully defined, puffed up chest, a grin illuminating his face and sunglasses to hide his precious green eyes from the sun.
Jesus fucking Christ, you had even gotten the mole on the left side of his hips. His flush only worsened, made him feel like his whole body was on fire. The harsh fabric of his flight suit suddenly feeling like too much on his feverish, sensitive skin.
Jake exhaled shakily. It felt overwhelming, and overwhelming wasnât even cutting it.
His hands acted on their own as he continued to turn the pages. Each filled with images of him. Because to him, they were images. Not drawings. Images you had wanted to capture, keep a piece of. Stolen moments you had wanted to keep ingrained on paper, had wanted to keep him.
Almost half of your notebook was of him. He got to the last page you had drawn on.
A close up on his face from his neck. The brightest smile illuminating his features, the kind that allowed the creases near his eyes to make an appearance. A glint in his gaze that made him look warm, loving, almost tender like.
Writings at the bottom of the page caught his attention. The date was marked, like all the other drawings, he realized.
He frowned reading it.
The date on that last drawing was marked from the day before⊠which was a Sunday.
âŠ.You hadnât seen each other on Sunday.
Something short circuited in his brain and in his heart.
Did that mean you were able to draw him by memory alone ? That you had every crease, every hair, every mole, freckle, every line of his face so deeply ingrained in your brain that you were able to render them that faithfully without even looking at him ?
It felt dizzying.
Eyes still transfixed on the drawing, steps coming from the hallway got him out of his trance and without thinking, he shoved the notebook into his flight suit.
âHow did it go ?â He tried for casual as the rest of you walked in.
âListen man, he even gave me shit,â Mickey complained, seeming still offended by what had happened, âI donât even fly the goddamn plane !â
By the look on all of your faces, Whitman didnât have anything nice to say to any of you.
Jake felt his heart stutter when his gaze shifted towards you, who were engrossed in a conversation with Natasha, most likely bitching about the debrief. It felt weird, to see you like that, knowing how you carefully sketched him every change you got.
You caught his gaze and frowned.
âWhat are you looking at, Hangman ?â
He smiled, and he wasnât exactly sure if it turned out like a smirk or a genuine one.
âNothing, darlinâ.â
You rolled your eyes and Jake could decipher the smallest quirk of your lips, the lightest blush on your cheeks and wondered if it had always been there but just been too blind to see it.
You didnât say anything about your notebook, didnât seem to notice it was missing, too distracted by the morningâs event.
That night, Jake went home with the notebook. He didnât quite have the heart to let go of it yet. Lying wide awake in his bed, with what had become a precious artifact, open, he kept staring at that very last page. Carefully, heâd trace the lines out with his fingers, in adoration of the way you saw him. Touch over every brush of the pencil you had evidently, carefully thought about.
He struggled to find sleep, whenever he would finally turn off the light, it would only take minutes before heâd turn it on again, grab the notebook and flip through it. He felt like his insides were melting every time his eyes raked through the pages.
Knowing he had been your secret muse all this time was setting a new desire alight in his chest, burning as fiery hot as a SuperHornet engine. Jake wanted, almost foolishly, to pose for you. Look into your eyes as youâd trace every single line of his face, body and soul, knowing you wouldnât even have to stare at him to get him perfectly, down to every detail.
When he finally managed to fall asleep, you visited his every dream, and being haunted had never sounded so delightful.
âWhere the fuck is it,â you grumbled under your breath, frantically moving the couch cushions around.
It was only when you were already at home that you noticed the very unusual absence of your drawing notebook. The realisation that you had forgotten it on base was scary. But the realisation you had in this instant, as you had come earlier than usual to look for it, that perhaps you hadnât simply forgotten but downright lost it, was terrifying. You trusted your squadmates enough to believe that they would respect your boundary even without yourself present to firmly remind them of it, but what if any other people found it ?
God, youâd actually have to transfer base.
âYou looking for something ?â
You jumped and grabbed at your chest where your heart had a similar reaction as you turned around.
âJesus Christ, Seresin ! Donât sneak up on me like that !â
âIf I really wanted to sneak up on you, sweetheart, I can assure you I wouldnât have announced myself quite this loud.â
Your eyes rolled automatically, a reflex you had taught yourself a long time ago whenever Jake spoke.
âYeah, right, thank you, you can leave nââ
You stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes fixed on Jakeâs right hand and what it was holding.
Jake saw you freeze and suddenly he lost the cocky edge. He cleared his throat.
âI think you forgot this yesterday.â He now held the notebook in both hands in front him, but not quite holding it out for you yet.
You didnât dare to meet his eyes, because you knew, without even him saying anything, you knew. He had gone through it. Mortification couldnât even begin to describe the feelings going through you as you stayed there, just staring at your notebook in his hands. Somehow, despite this situation being your worst nightmare, in the back of your mind something told you that in between Jakeâs hands, the notebook felt at its right place. The muse holding close to him every piece of art he had inspired.
You knew. And Jake obviously knew you knew.
âYouâre very talented.â He finally said, trying to break the silence.
âItâs not talent itâsââ
âHard work,â he finished with a small, endeared, smile. âI know. And it shows, how hard you work I mean. Itâs beautiful.â
You gulped. âWhat is ?â
âAll of it.â
A pitt was forming in your stomach. You hated how he was dancing around it, hated how careful he was around the subject and a small part of you wished he could have just laughed at you, made some cocky remark, at least that way youâd have gotten some reaction out of him. You didnât truly understand his behavior, did he think he was showing you mercy after going through the most intimate item in your life, one that was practically a pathway into your mind and heart ?
You cleared your throat, knowing youâd have to be the one to address the obvious elephant in the room.
âAre you not gonna ask why I draw you over and over again like a maniac ?â You asked, trying to sound jaded and uninterested despite the beating of your heart.
The smile that stretched his lips was soft.
âI donât need to.â
Something in you bloomed at the way he looked at you.
Jake finally handed you the notebook, which you took with shaky hands that you struggled to hide.
You both stood in silence for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Dancing on your feet, you chewed the inside of your cheek. What the fuck were you supposed to say ? This felt like too big of a conversation to have at six in the morning just before the morning flight.
âYouââ you immediately cringed at the way your voice was strained and cleared your throat, âdo you wanna take one ?â You offered, eyes looking everywhere but directly at his eyes.
His eyes seemed to widen in barely hidden shock before he schooled himself.
âOf course I do, you know Iâd never missed an opportunity to have my own face hanging around my place.â
You chuckled, feeling at ease by the way he lifted off a bit of the emotional tension. You handed him the notebook back, him holding it didnât look as terrifying now.
âHere, choose and just rip it out.â
Youâd thought heâd take some time to think about it, ponder about his decision, but no. Jake opened your notebook with a speed and ease that suggested he knew exactly what he was looking for, and he did, landing at the last page. Jake showed it to you.
âCan I ?â
You nodded, temporally surprised by his overly respectful behavior. He laid the notebook down on the nearby table and began to carefully rip the page.
When he finished, he handed it back to you, keeping the page he had ripped for him.
âThank you.â
Silence filled the room again. And when you finally dared to lift your gaze and look in his eyes, it almost took your breath away. How gently, how patiently he was looking at you, a small, almost encouraging smile on his lips. You realized that he was waiting for you to talk, allowing you to take that next step and you guessed it was only natural. You were the one drawing his face everywhere in your notebook like a psychopath. He didnât need to ask, he had said. Didnât mean that in his heart he wasnât dying for you to say it out loud.
You took in a big breath, and took a step towards him. A small physical reconciliation that you hoped youâd be able to morph into an emotional one.
âListen, Seresin, Iââ
The sudden boom of the door bursting open made both of you jerk back from each other.
âDamn,â Mickey whistled, âyouâre here early.â
The rest of the squad followed close behind him, and most of them were barely able to hide the small, knowing smile pulling at their lips. Mickey seemed to be the only one confused.
âHey, did we interrupt somethiââ
Bob elbowed him before he could finish his sentence, and he only shot his friend a death glare when he loudly exclaimed his pain and whined about âwhat was that for ?!â.
You hurriedly scurried back to your usual spot on the couch, feeling caught red handed even though you had only been standing in front of one another. Jake, much more relaxed than you, settled down next to Javy on the other couch, across the room and facing you.
You feigned a normal behavior by opening your notebook, about to pretend to draw like your world hadnât shifted on its axis just a few seconds before.
Right as you opened it, something fell right from between the pages and into your lap. Frowning, you picked it up. It was a folded piece of paper, you carefully opened it and felt your heart stutter in your chest.
On the paper were drawn two very simple stick figures. Though, simple, they were very recognizable. It was you and Jake. The fucker had drawn himself with an eight pack and it tear a quiet laugh from you.
The two stick figures were holding hands and their mouth lines were quirked up in happy smiles. Objectively, it looked bad, primary children level. But it was his. He had drawn that while thinking of you.
Warmth bloomed throughout your body and you looked up, searching Jakeâs gaze. You didnât have to search long because he was already looking at you, awaiting your reaction. Truth be told, you donât exactly know what you did, perhaps you bit your lip, shyly smiled, or even simply stared at him in astonishment, whatever you did, it seemed to please him.
Jake smiled. And he suddenly looked exactly as you had drawn him on that page that now had found a new place in the front pocket of his flight suit. A sight that would have blinded you had you not learned to love its brightness.
And without thinking, almost on instinct, you picked up your pencil.
Authorâs note : omg it felt like such a long time since Iâve written for my babyyyy !! Just some little fluff, hope you like it !đđ
Also is this projection about me wanting to be any good at any sort of art ? Yes it might. And the title sucks because I couldnât, for the life of me, find something else.
Alsoooo, I feel like lately my fics have been having very little dialogue and a lot of internal thoughts about feelings and stuff ? Is that annoying to read ? Please be honest guys
Summary : Jake goes through your drawing notebook and finds out why youâve never ever allowed so much as people approaching it.
Pairing : Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader
Important info : Your call sign is Lightning :)âĄïž
Disclaimer : English is not my first language so sorry for any grammatical errors that might have escaped my proofreading. I have no knowledge in the US Navy or military so sorry for any inaccuracies in that department. Also I donât draw and I do not have a single artistic bone in my body so sorry if this seems unrealistic or badly written !đ
âMickeyâŠâ you warned once, feeling him slowly creep up over your shoulder, trying to peek at the traits your hand was steadily tracing on the blank paper of your journal.
âOh come on, Iâve already seen your drawings, what, is the process secret defense or something ?â Mickey whined out, sounding as petulant as a child.
Momentarily stopping, you kept your journal close to your chest, hiding its content from his view. He whined, finally deciding to leave you be, choosing instead to go slump on the opposite couch, while making it known just how unfair and mean you were for refusing to get him out of his lethal boredom.
Your morning training flight had ended thirty minutes ago, and Maverick had needed to attend some last minute meeting with Cyclone, leaving you in the briefing room, waiting for his remarks on each of your flying. Everyone had found a way to occupy themselves, except Mickey, who kept bothering everyone, trying to find something that heâd deem amusing enough to focus all his attention on.
Heâd already gone to Natasha who had quickly sent him packing, choosing this rare free time to catch up on some paperwork the baseâs administrators had been begging her to send for three months.
Bob had been kind enough to propose to share his book with him, but he refused, claiming it was too boring. And you suspected that he had actually found something to do, and that that thing was simply to annoy all of you, who were calmly waiting for the return of your instructor.
His next victim had been you.
You should have guessed it, truly. Peacefully sitting on the couch, tracing lines in your drawing notebook, eyes flicking discreetly every so often to the pool table, where Reuben, Javy and Jake were engaging in a pretty wild game of table football.
âCan I just look at one page, please ?â Mickey tried again, putting on the best puppy dog eyes he could conjure.
âNo.â
No one had ever even glanced at your drawing notebook. Even though youâd always carry it around, whipping it out if you had a rare moment of rest during your busy life on base, everyone had learned to respect that boundary, no matter how futile it seemed to some.
âLeave her, Fanboy. She just doesnât want you to see the naked men she draws in there,â Jake snickered from his spot at the table football.
You simply flipped him off, not even rewarding him with a stare.
Despite your notebook being so firmly guarded, everyone knew you drew beautifully. If they were honest, beautifully wasnât even cutting it.
While your notebook was strictly off limit, youâd let them see when youâd lazily and mindlessly let your pencil graze the paper of a torn up blank page. They never ceased to be amazed at your âtalentâ, and theyâd always let you know whenever they had the chance. Which, itâs not that you hated it, but the word âtalentâ rubbed you the wrong way. This was no talent, it was years of hard work and practice, none of this had come your way the first time you had grabbed a pencil, and yet, the squad always made you out to be some kind of prodigee.
Everyone knew you drew portraits the best.
The first time it truly hit them was during one particularly boring meeting where Cyclone was just up everyoneâs asses and complaining about how none of you ever bothered to do the administration work you were required to do. His scolding wasnât new, youâd at least get one of these meeting every month, so it wasnât something you all took too seriously. After a few minutes of sketching you passed off as pretending to take notes, you elbowed Natasha, snickering a bit as you showed her the piece of paper on which you had made Cycloneâs angry face come to life.
But the chuckling you had expected never came. In its place, Natashaâs eyes were wide open, in complete awe of the pencil sketch you had presented her. She quickly, and the more discreetly she could, passed it around the table for everyone to see, pointing to you in pride when the other members of the squad would look, equally as amazed as she was.
Ever since that day, Mickey had begged you to draw a portrait of him. You had always refused, not exactly knowing why, maybe simply for the pleasure of seeing him pout at your constant refusal.
He had been greatly offended when one night you had casually handed Penny a sketch of her you had quicky drawn at the Hard Deck.
âShe gives me free drinks,â you had justified, a small smirk pulling at your lips.
âI have your life in my hands every-time weâre in the air, is that not enough for you ?â
One year, for his birthday, you had finally decided to grant him the one thing he kept begging you for. Mickey had literally screamed, yes screamed in sheer excitement when you had handed him the portrait you had drawn of him. It now stood proudly on his bedside table, adorned by a beautiful frame.
You drew beautifully, there was simply no other way to put in.
âPlease, Lightning, Iâll do your paperwork for a month if you let me see,â Mickey had resorted to bargaining.
âNo.â You said again, firmly camping on your position as the movement of your pencil grazing the page could faintly be heard.
âGood morning aviators.â A booming voice made every single one of you jump out.
And then immediately salute when you realized it was your commanding officer. Mickey nearly toppled over from how fast he stood up.
âCaptain Mitchell has some other matter to attend to. I reviewed all of your flight footage so Iâll be the one debriefing you today.â
You swore you audibly heard Reuben swallow next to you.
Your commanding officer wolfishly grinned, a terrifying indicator that this debrief wasnât really about to go as smoothly as when Maverick was directing it.
âLetâs move to briefing room three, shall we ?â He smiled, seemingly impatient to share his mind about the way you all flew.
Reluctantly, you all followed with a dutifully soldier step, though not without dread.
âYouâre gonna get chewed up, man.â Javy whispered to Jake, snickering.
And he did. After absolutely destroying him, Maverick would have at least, discreetly, praised the risky maneuver he had pulled off.
But commanding officer Whitman was nothing like Maverick. After words that were anything but kind about his flying style, he was sent back to the main briefing room, like a child sentenced to think about his behavior.
Jake guessed he had maybe grown too accustomed to Maverick being somehow of an older and just as reckless version of him that he had forgotten that most of the moves he pulled could get anyone not only written up, but grounded, for good.
Jake sat down with a sight, the feeling of having been scolded like a child, something that hadnât happened since the Naval Academy, sitting heavily on his chest. He groaned when he felt that he had carelessly sat down on something, the futile action only serving to upset him more after what he had endured a few doors down.
But all irritation suddenly vanished when he lifted himself to glare at the object daring to pester his sulking.
He froze.
Lying there, rarely unsupervised, was your drawing notebook, Sitting neatly where you must have dropped it when Commander Whitman had walked in.
The light green cover was a little worn out from you carrying it every where you went. He gently picked it up, took it out from under him so he could sit down again. His fingers hesitantly toyed with one corner, debating on opening it.
Why were you so adamant about no one looking through it anyway ?
While he mainly joked about it, Jake was convinced you were actually drawing naked people in there. What other reason would there be for your constant refusal ? You were talented as hell, wouldnât you want to share that with everyone ?
Jake spent more time than heâd like to admit just watching you, nose buried in that stupid notebook, sketching away God knows what. The little furrow in your brow when you seemed to draw something just a tiny bit difficult, though he knew without seeing it that itâd look effortless no matter how much of a struggle you seemed to display.
His stare was fixed on the notebook in his hands. There would be no way for you to know he had gone through it if he put it back in the same spot, right ? He would just have a quick, harmless look. Besides, it wasnât like he would be reading through your diary, it wasnât anything too imitate.
And besides, he figured that if you did find out, it wouldnât be the end of the world. Youâd scream at him, sure, but again, it wouldnât be different from any other day, no matter how hard he wished it wasnât the case.
Still, he found himself still hesitating. Even if you never found out, it was basic respect to honor a boundary you had made abundantly clear throughout the years. But just as he was about to, though not reluctantly, put the precious notebook back down, curiosity with a mix of self deprecation, knowing that at least now youâd have a real reason for disliking him, made him open it.
Andâ
Well.
To say that it was underwhelming would be a tremendous understatement.
The first page greeted him with the beautiful sight of a Lily. Though, perfectly drawn, it seemed to be taunting him. Was this really what he had defied your prohibition for ?
Why would you even hide this ? Oh, what, did you think the flower was out of proportion ? Embarassed because you hadnât drawn the petals as accurately as Mother Nature had carefully crafted them ? He had a little chuckle to himself, yeah, that was probably why. You thought your work was shit even thought it looked straight out like a Lily seed had been planted in your pages and you had dutifully took care of it to grow it into the beautiful flower staring back at him right now.
Pages after pages, he was met with objects from your daily life, drinks from the Hard Deck, a sunset at the beach, flowers that grew behind the base... One particular drawing of your F/A-18 that looked like one of the engineer on base had themselves drawn it had him staring a bit longer. And he found himself wondering just how many hours you had put into this, into all of this. How many years did it take for you to master life around you so effortlessly ?
He continued to turn the pages, snatched away by the beauty of your work. Jake was almost halfway through it when he suddenly froze.
A mirror was his first thought.
It felt like looking in a mirror.
His own face was staring back at him on the page, the only difference was the serious air he was harboring on the drawing, a huge contrast to his jaw hanging open at the sight of it.
He didnât even have that fleeting second of astonishment, of doubt, of âoh my god is that me ?â. Because there was no place for doubt. It was, undeniably, him.
After the moment of shock had passed, his heart began to pound in his chest to the point it was almost painful. His eyes flicked to the page right next to it, him again. A small smile stretching his lips and a toothpick in between his teeth.
Jake stayed in what felt like a long time just staring at the perfect pencil drawing of his face. The knowledge that you had been the one to delicately trace every line of his face was spreading a warmth all throughout his body. He felt a flush bloom from his neck all the way to his ears and he laughed slightly, embarrassed by his own reaction.
Jesus, these were only drawings, he tried to reason himself. You drew people often, hell you had even drawn Commander Whitman in various state of fury a dozen of times, though his pounding heart didnât seem to agree.
Willing himself to move on, he turned the pageâ
His breath got caught in his lungs.
The next page showed three little sketches of him, all different emotions that somehow covered a good part of the wild range of his personality.
On one he was harboring his usual cocky expression, smirk stretching his lips wide, eyebrows slightly raised in a defying air, and there even was a teasing and arrogant twinkle in his eye that made the drawing seem all the more alive.
The one right next to it showed his profile, head looking down at what he guessed was a pre flight checking list. Expression closed, focused, like every pilot ought to be while checking the plane that would bring them up to fifty thousand feet in the air.
The last of the three little sketches showed his upper half, a cue stick in hand, a genuine smile, staring off into the distance, where normally the Hard Deck pool table would be. But there was no scenery, only him. Happiness and relaxation evident in the way he held himself.
His heart wasnât exactly beating the way it should, a weird mix of a flutter and a stutter that made his whole chest feel tight.
Jake felt seen.
And seen by your eyes, you, was the greatest honor he could think of.
His eyes widen when he saw the next page. Taking up almost the entire paper, he was drawn down to his midthighs. Swimsuit sitting low on his hips, Adonis belt on full view, abs carefully defined, puffed up chest, a grin illuminating his face and sunglasses to hide his precious green eyes from the sun.
Jesus fucking Christ, you had even gotten the mole on the left side of his hips. His flush only worsened, made him feel like his whole body was on fire. The harsh fabric of his flight suit suddenly feeling like too much on his feverish, sensitive skin.
Jake exhaled shakily. It felt overwhelming, and overwhelming wasnât even cutting it.
His hands acted on their own as he continued to turn the pages. Each filled with images of him. Because to him, they were images. Not drawings. Images you had wanted to capture, keep a piece of. Stolen moments you had wanted to keep ingrained on paper, had wanted to keep him.
Almost half of your notebook was of him. He got to the last page you had drawn on.
A close up on his face from his neck. The brightest smile illuminating his features, the kind that allowed the creases near his eyes to make an appearance. A glint in his gaze that made him look warm, loving, almost tender like.
Writings at the bottom of the page caught his attention. The date was marked, like all the other drawings, he realized.
He frowned reading it.
The date on that last drawing was marked from the day before⊠which was a Sunday.
âŠ.You hadnât seen each other on Sunday.
Something short circuited in his brain and in his heart.
Did that mean you were able to draw him by memory alone ? That you had every crease, every hair, every mole, freckle, every line of his face so deeply ingrained in your brain that you were able to render them that faithfully without even looking at him ?
It felt dizzying.
Eyes still transfixed on the drawing, steps coming from the hallway got him out of his trance and without thinking, he shoved the notebook into his flight suit.
âHow did it go ?â He tried for casual as the rest of you walked in.
âListen man, he even gave me shit,â Mickey complained, seeming still offended by what had happened, âI donât even fly the goddamn plane !â
By the look on all of your faces, Whitman didnât have anything nice to say to any of you.
Jake felt his heart stutter when his gaze shifted towards you, who were engrossed in a conversation with Natasha, most likely bitching about the debrief. It felt weird, to see you like that, knowing how you carefully sketched him every change you got.
You caught his gaze and frowned.
âWhat are you looking at, Hangman ?â
He smiled, and he wasnât exactly sure if it turned out like a smirk or a genuine one.
âNothing, darlinâ.â
You rolled your eyes and Jake could decipher the smallest quirk of your lips, the lightest blush on your cheeks and wondered if it had always been there but just been too blind to see it.
You didnât say anything about your notebook, didnât seem to notice it was missing, too distracted by the morningâs event.
That night, Jake went home with the notebook. He didnât quite have the heart to let go of it yet. Lying wide awake in his bed, with what had become a precious artifact, open, he kept staring at that very last page. Carefully, heâd trace the lines out with his fingers, in adoration of the way you saw him. Touch over every brush of the pencil you had evidently, carefully thought about.
He struggled to find sleep, whenever he would finally turn off the light, it would only take minutes before heâd turn it on again, grab the notebook and flip through it. He felt like his insides were melting every time his eyes raked through the pages.
Knowing he had been your secret muse all this time was setting a new desire alight in his chest, burning as fiery hot as a SuperHornet engine. Jake wanted, almost foolishly, to pose for you. Look into your eyes as youâd trace every single line of his face, body and soul, knowing you wouldnât even have to stare at him to get him perfectly, down to every detail.
When he finally managed to fall asleep, you visited his every dream, and being haunted had never sounded so delightful.
âWhere the fuck is it,â you grumbled under your breath, frantically moving the couch cushions around.
It was only when you were already at home that you noticed the very unusual absence of your drawing notebook. The realisation that you had forgotten it on base was scary. But the realisation you had in this instant, as you had come earlier than usual to look for it, that perhaps you hadnât simply forgotten but downright lost it, was terrifying. You trusted your squadmates enough to believe that they would respect your boundary even without yourself present to firmly remind them of it, but what if any other people found it ?
God, youâd actually have to transfer base.
âYou looking for something ?â
You jumped and grabbed at your chest where your heart had a similar reaction as you turned around.
âJesus Christ, Seresin ! Donât sneak up on me like that !â
âIf I really wanted to sneak up on you, sweetheart, I can assure you I wouldnât have announced myself quite this loud.â
Your eyes rolled automatically, a reflex you had taught yourself a long time ago whenever Jake spoke.
âYeah, right, thank you, you can leave nââ
You stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes fixed on Jakeâs right hand and what it was holding.
Jake saw you freeze and suddenly he lost the cocky edge. He cleared his throat.
âI think you forgot this yesterday.â He now held the notebook in both hands in front him, but not quite holding it out for you yet.
You didnât dare to meet his eyes, because you knew, without even him saying anything, you knew. He had gone through it. Mortification couldnât even begin to describe the feelings going through you as you stayed there, just staring at your notebook in his hands. Somehow, despite this situation being your worst nightmare, in the back of your mind something told you that in between Jakeâs hands, the notebook felt at its right place. The muse holding close to him every piece of art he had inspired.
You knew. And Jake obviously knew you knew.
âYouâre very talented.â He finally said, trying to break the silence.
âItâs not talent itâsââ
âHard work,â he finished with a small, endeared, smile. âI know. And it shows, how hard you work I mean. Itâs beautiful.â
You gulped. âWhat is ?â
âAll of it.â
A pitt was forming in your stomach. You hated how he was dancing around it, hated how careful he was around the subject and a small part of you wished he could have just laughed at you, made some cocky remark, at least that way youâd have gotten some reaction out of him. You didnât truly understand his behavior, did he think he was showing you mercy after going through the most intimate item in your life, one that was practically a pathway into your mind and heart ?
You cleared your throat, knowing youâd have to be the one to address the obvious elephant in the room.
âAre you not gonna ask why I draw you over and over again like a maniac ?â You asked, trying to sound jaded and uninterested despite the beating of your heart.
The smile that stretched his lips was soft.
âI donât need to.â
Something in you bloomed at the way he looked at you.
Jake finally handed you the notebook, which you took with shaky hands that you struggled to hide.
You both stood in silence for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Dancing on your feet, you chewed the inside of your cheek. What the fuck were you supposed to say ? This felt like too big of a conversation to have at six in the morning just before the morning flight.
âYouââ you immediately cringed at the way your voice was strained and cleared your throat, âdo you wanna take one ?â You offered, eyes looking everywhere but directly at his eyes.
His eyes seemed to widen in barely hidden shock before he schooled himself.
âOf course I do, you know Iâd never missed an opportunity to have my own face hanging around my place.â
You chuckled, feeling at ease by the way he lifted off a bit of the emotional tension. You handed him the notebook back, him holding it didnât look as terrifying now.
âHere, choose and just rip it out.â
Youâd thought heâd take some time to think about it, ponder about his decision, but no. Jake opened your notebook with a speed and ease that suggested he knew exactly what he was looking for, and he did, landing at the last page. Jake showed it to you.
âCan I ?â
You nodded, temporally surprised by his overly respectful behavior. He laid the notebook down on the nearby table and began to carefully rip the page.
When he finished, he handed it back to you, keeping the page he had ripped for him.
âThank you.â
Silence filled the room again. And when you finally dared to lift your gaze and look in his eyes, it almost took your breath away. How gently, how patiently he was looking at you, a small, almost encouraging smile on his lips. You realized that he was waiting for you to talk, allowing you to take that next step and you guessed it was only natural. You were the one drawing his face everywhere in your notebook like a psychopath. He didnât need to ask, he had said. Didnât mean that in his heart he wasnât dying for you to say it out loud.
You took in a big breath, and took a step towards him. A small physical reconciliation that you hoped youâd be able to morph into an emotional one.
âListen, Seresin, Iââ
The sudden boom of the door bursting open made both of you jerk back from each other.
âDamn,â Mickey whistled, âyouâre here early.â
The rest of the squad followed close behind him, and most of them were barely able to hide the small, knowing smile pulling at their lips. Mickey seemed to be the only one confused.
âHey, did we interrupt somethiââ
Bob elbowed him before he could finish his sentence, and he only shot his friend a death glare when he loudly exclaimed his pain and whined about âwhat was that for ?!â.
You hurriedly scurried back to your usual spot on the couch, feeling caught red handed even though you had only been standing in front of one another. Jake, much more relaxed than you, settled down next to Javy on the other couch, across the room and facing you.
You feigned a normal behavior by opening your notebook, about to pretend to draw like your world hadnât shifted on its axis just a few seconds before.
Right as you opened it, something fell right from between the pages and into your lap. Frowning, you picked it up. It was a folded piece of paper, you carefully opened it and felt your heart stutter in your chest.
On the paper were drawn two very simple stick figures. Though, simple, they were very recognizable. It was you and Jake. The fucker had drawn himself with an eight pack and it tear a quiet laugh from you.
The two stick figures were holding hands and their mouth lines were quirked up in happy smiles. Objectively, it looked bad, primary children level. But it was his. He had drawn that while thinking of you.
Warmth bloomed throughout your body and you looked up, searching Jakeâs gaze. You didnât have to search long because he was already looking at you, awaiting your reaction. Truth be told, you donât exactly know what you did, perhaps you bit your lip, shyly smiled, or even simply stared at him in astonishment, whatever you did, it seemed to please him.
Jake smiled. And he suddenly looked exactly as you had drawn him on that page that now had found a new place in the front pocket of his flight suit. A sight that would have blinded you had you not learned to love its brightness.
And without thinking, almost on instinct, you picked up your pencil.
Authorâs note : omg it felt like such a long time since Iâve written for my babyyyy !! Just some little fluff, hope you like it !đđ
Also is this projection about me wanting to be any good at any sort of art ? Yes it might. And the title sucks because I couldnât, for the life of me, find something else.
Alsoooo, I feel like lately my fics have been having very little dialogue and a lot of internal thoughts about feelings and stuff ? Is that annoying to read ? Please be honest guys
i sincerely love this trope, the artist and the muse. and jake would be both the cockiest and the sweetest about it at the same damn time.
ALSO!!!! mickey is the youngest sibling of the squad and i stand by that. he annoys the shit out of everyone but also they wouldn't last a day without him, and they would beat the shit out of anyone for messing with him.
AHHH THANK YOU BABEđ„čđ„č you have no idea how much this meansđ«¶đ«¶đđ
I do also love this trope but I think that very often the reader is the muse and not enough times is it the other character. So I really wanted to give our Jake some love.
AND OMG youâre so right ! Mickey absolutely has that âannoyingâ little sibling vibe and I looove to portray him like that in my fics !! And yes, beware to anyone who dares to tell him heâs a little shit, cause only the squad is allowed to call him that !
Summary : Jake goes through your drawing notebook and finds out why youâve never ever allowed so much as people approaching it.
Pairing : Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader
Important info : Your call sign is Lightning :)âĄïž
Disclaimer : English is not my first language so sorry for any grammatical errors that might have escaped my proofreading. I have no knowledge in the US Navy or military so sorry for any inaccuracies in that department. Also I donât draw and I do not have a single artistic bone in my body so sorry if this seems unrealistic or badly written !đ
âMickeyâŠâ you warned once, feeling him slowly creep up over your shoulder, trying to peek at the traits your hand was steadily tracing on the blank paper of your journal.
âOh come on, Iâve already seen your drawings, what, is the process secret defense or something ?â Mickey whined out, sounding as petulant as a child.
Momentarily stopping, you kept your journal close to your chest, hiding its content from his view. He whined, finally deciding to leave you be, choosing instead to go slump on the opposite couch, while making it known just how unfair and mean you were for refusing to get him out of his lethal boredom.
Your morning training flight had ended thirty minutes ago, and Maverick had needed to attend some last minute meeting with Cyclone, leaving you in the briefing room, waiting for his remarks on each of your flying. Everyone had found a way to occupy themselves, except Mickey, who kept bothering everyone, trying to find something that heâd deem amusing enough to focus all his attention on.
Heâd already gone to Natasha who had quickly sent him packing, choosing this rare free time to catch up on some paperwork the baseâs administrators had been begging her to send for three months.
Bob had been kind enough to propose to share his book with him, but he refused, claiming it was too boring. And you suspected that he had actually found something to do, and that that thing was simply to annoy all of you, who were calmly waiting for the return of your instructor.
His next victim had been you.
You should have guessed it, truly. Peacefully sitting on the couch, tracing lines in your drawing notebook, eyes flicking discreetly every so often to the pool table, where Reuben, Javy and Jake were engaging in a pretty wild game of table football.
âCan I just look at one page, please ?â Mickey tried again, putting on the best puppy dog eyes he could conjure.
âNo.â
No one had ever even glanced at your drawing notebook. Even though youâd always carry it around, whipping it out if you had a rare moment of rest during your busy life on base, everyone had learned to respect that boundary, no matter how futile it seemed to some.
âLeave her, Fanboy. She just doesnât want you to see the naked men she draws in there,â Jake snickered from his spot at the table football.
You simply flipped him off, not even rewarding him with a stare.
Despite your notebook being so firmly guarded, everyone knew you drew beautifully. If they were honest, beautifully wasnât even cutting it.
While your notebook was strictly off limit, youâd let them see when youâd lazily and mindlessly let your pencil graze the paper of a torn up blank page. They never ceased to be amazed at your âtalentâ, and theyâd always let you know whenever they had the chance. Which, itâs not that you hated it, but the word âtalentâ rubbed you the wrong way. This was no talent, it was years of hard work and practice, none of this had come your way the first time you had grabbed a pencil, and yet, the squad always made you out to be some kind of prodigee.
Everyone knew you drew portraits the best.
The first time it truly hit them was during one particularly boring meeting where Cyclone was just up everyoneâs asses and complaining about how none of you ever bothered to do the administration work you were required to do. His scolding wasnât new, youâd at least get one of these meeting every month, so it wasnât something you all took too seriously. After a few minutes of sketching you passed off as pretending to take notes, you elbowed Natasha, snickering a bit as you showed her the piece of paper on which you had made Cycloneâs angry face come to life.
But the chuckling you had expected never came. In its place, Natashaâs eyes were wide open, in complete awe of the pencil sketch you had presented her. She quickly, and the more discreetly she could, passed it around the table for everyone to see, pointing to you in pride when the other members of the squad would look, equally as amazed as she was.
Ever since that day, Mickey had begged you to draw a portrait of him. You had always refused, not exactly knowing why, maybe simply for the pleasure of seeing him pout at your constant refusal.
He had been greatly offended when one night you had casually handed Penny a sketch of her you had quicky drawn at the Hard Deck.
âShe gives me free drinks,â you had justified, a small smirk pulling at your lips.
âI have your life in my hands every-time weâre in the air, is that not enough for you ?â
One year, for his birthday, you had finally decided to grant him the one thing he kept begging you for. Mickey had literally screamed, yes screamed in sheer excitement when you had handed him the portrait you had drawn of him. It now stood proudly on his bedside table, adorned by a beautiful frame.
You drew beautifully, there was simply no other way to put in.
âPlease, Lightning, Iâll do your paperwork for a month if you let me see,â Mickey had resorted to bargaining.
âNo.â You said again, firmly camping on your position as the movement of your pencil grazing the page could faintly be heard.
âGood morning aviators.â A booming voice made every single one of you jump out.
And then immediately salute when you realized it was your commanding officer. Mickey nearly toppled over from how fast he stood up.
âCaptain Mitchell has some other matter to attend to. I reviewed all of your flight footage so Iâll be the one debriefing you today.â
You swore you audibly heard Reuben swallow next to you.
Your commanding officer wolfishly grinned, a terrifying indicator that this debrief wasnât really about to go as smoothly as when Maverick was directing it.
âLetâs move to briefing room three, shall we ?â He smiled, seemingly impatient to share his mind about the way you all flew.
Reluctantly, you all followed with a dutifully soldier step, though not without dread.
âYouâre gonna get chewed up, man.â Javy whispered to Jake, snickering.
And he did. After absolutely destroying him, Maverick would have at least, discreetly, praised the risky maneuver he had pulled off.
But commanding officer Whitman was nothing like Maverick. After words that were anything but kind about his flying style, he was sent back to the main briefing room, like a child sentenced to think about his behavior.
Jake guessed he had maybe grown too accustomed to Maverick being somehow of an older and just as reckless version of him that he had forgotten that most of the moves he pulled could get anyone not only written up, but grounded, for good.
Jake sat down with a sight, the feeling of having been scolded like a child, something that hadnât happened since the Naval Academy, sitting heavily on his chest. He groaned when he felt that he had carelessly sat down on something, the futile action only serving to upset him more after what he had endured a few doors down.
But all irritation suddenly vanished when he lifted himself to glare at the object daring to pester his sulking.
He froze.
Lying there, rarely unsupervised, was your drawing notebook, Sitting neatly where you must have dropped it when Commander Whitman had walked in.
The light green cover was a little worn out from you carrying it every where you went. He gently picked it up, took it out from under him so he could sit down again. His fingers hesitantly toyed with one corner, debating on opening it.
Why were you so adamant about no one looking through it anyway ?
While he mainly joked about it, Jake was convinced you were actually drawing naked people in there. What other reason would there be for your constant refusal ? You were talented as hell, wouldnât you want to share that with everyone ?
Jake spent more time than heâd like to admit just watching you, nose buried in that stupid notebook, sketching away God knows what. The little furrow in your brow when you seemed to draw something just a tiny bit difficult, though he knew without seeing it that itâd look effortless no matter how much of a struggle you seemed to display.
His stare was fixed on the notebook in his hands. There would be no way for you to know he had gone through it if he put it back in the same spot, right ? He would just have a quick, harmless look. Besides, it wasnât like he would be reading through your diary, it wasnât anything too imitate.
And besides, he figured that if you did find out, it wouldnât be the end of the world. Youâd scream at him, sure, but again, it wouldnât be different from any other day, no matter how hard he wished it wasnât the case.
Still, he found himself still hesitating. Even if you never found out, it was basic respect to honor a boundary you had made abundantly clear throughout the years. But just as he was about to, though not reluctantly, put the precious notebook back down, curiosity with a mix of self deprecation, knowing that at least now youâd have a real reason for disliking him, made him open it.
Andâ
Well.
To say that it was underwhelming would be a tremendous understatement.
The first page greeted him with the beautiful sight of a Lily. Though, perfectly drawn, it seemed to be taunting him. Was this really what he had defied your prohibition for ?
Why would you even hide this ? Oh, what, did you think the flower was out of proportion ? Embarassed because you hadnât drawn the petals as accurately as Mother Nature had carefully crafted them ? He had a little chuckle to himself, yeah, that was probably why. You thought your work was shit even thought it looked straight out like a Lily seed had been planted in your pages and you had dutifully took care of it to grow it into the beautiful flower staring back at him right now.
Pages after pages, he was met with objects from your daily life, drinks from the Hard Deck, a sunset at the beach, flowers that grew behind the base... One particular drawing of your F/A-18 that looked like one of the engineer on base had themselves drawn it had him staring a bit longer. And he found himself wondering just how many hours you had put into this, into all of this. How many years did it take for you to master life around you so effortlessly ?
He continued to turn the pages, snatched away by the beauty of your work. Jake was almost halfway through it when he suddenly froze.
A mirror was his first thought.
It felt like looking in a mirror.
His own face was staring back at him on the page, the only difference was the serious air he was harboring on the drawing, a huge contrast to his jaw hanging open at the sight of it.
He didnât even have that fleeting second of astonishment, of doubt, of âoh my god is that me ?â. Because there was no place for doubt. It was, undeniably, him.
After the moment of shock had passed, his heart began to pound in his chest to the point it was almost painful. His eyes flicked to the page right next to it, him again. A small smile stretching his lips and a toothpick in between his teeth.
Jake stayed in what felt like a long time just staring at the perfect pencil drawing of his face. The knowledge that you had been the one to delicately trace every line of his face was spreading a warmth all throughout his body. He felt a flush bloom from his neck all the way to his ears and he laughed slightly, embarrassed by his own reaction.
Jesus, these were only drawings, he tried to reason himself. You drew people often, hell you had even drawn Commander Whitman in various state of fury a dozen of times, though his pounding heart didnât seem to agree.
Willing himself to move on, he turned the pageâ
His breath got caught in his lungs.
The next page showed three little sketches of him, all different emotions that somehow covered a good part of the wild range of his personality.
On one he was harboring his usual cocky expression, smirk stretching his lips wide, eyebrows slightly raised in a defying air, and there even was a teasing and arrogant twinkle in his eye that made the drawing seem all the more alive.
The one right next to it showed his profile, head looking down at what he guessed was a pre flight checking list. Expression closed, focused, like every pilot ought to be while checking the plane that would bring them up to fifty thousand feet in the air.
The last of the three little sketches showed his upper half, a cue stick in hand, a genuine smile, staring off into the distance, where normally the Hard Deck pool table would be. But there was no scenery, only him. Happiness and relaxation evident in the way he held himself.
His heart wasnât exactly beating the way it should, a weird mix of a flutter and a stutter that made his whole chest feel tight.
Jake felt seen.
And seen by your eyes, you, was the greatest honor he could think of.
His eyes widen when he saw the next page. Taking up almost the entire paper, he was drawn down to his midthighs. Swimsuit sitting low on his hips, Adonis belt on full view, abs carefully defined, puffed up chest, a grin illuminating his face and sunglasses to hide his precious green eyes from the sun.
Jesus fucking Christ, you had even gotten the mole on the left side of his hips. His flush only worsened, made him feel like his whole body was on fire. The harsh fabric of his flight suit suddenly feeling like too much on his feverish, sensitive skin.
Jake exhaled shakily. It felt overwhelming, and overwhelming wasnât even cutting it.
His hands acted on their own as he continued to turn the pages. Each filled with images of him. Because to him, they were images. Not drawings. Images you had wanted to capture, keep a piece of. Stolen moments you had wanted to keep ingrained on paper, had wanted to keep him.
Almost half of your notebook was of him. He got to the last page you had drawn on.
A close up on his face from his neck. The brightest smile illuminating his features, the kind that allowed the creases near his eyes to make an appearance. A glint in his gaze that made him look warm, loving, almost tender like.
Writings at the bottom of the page caught his attention. The date was marked, like all the other drawings, he realized.
He frowned reading it.
The date on that last drawing was marked from the day before⊠which was a Sunday.
âŠ.You hadnât seen each other on Sunday.
Something short circuited in his brain and in his heart.
Did that mean you were able to draw him by memory alone ? That you had every crease, every hair, every mole, freckle, every line of his face so deeply ingrained in your brain that you were able to render them that faithfully without even looking at him ?
It felt dizzying.
Eyes still transfixed on the drawing, steps coming from the hallway got him out of his trance and without thinking, he shoved the notebook into his flight suit.
âHow did it go ?â He tried for casual as the rest of you walked in.
âListen man, he even gave me shit,â Mickey complained, seeming still offended by what had happened, âI donât even fly the goddamn plane !â
By the look on all of your faces, Whitman didnât have anything nice to say to any of you.
Jake felt his heart stutter when his gaze shifted towards you, who were engrossed in a conversation with Natasha, most likely bitching about the debrief. It felt weird, to see you like that, knowing how you carefully sketched him every change you got.
You caught his gaze and frowned.
âWhat are you looking at, Hangman ?â
He smiled, and he wasnât exactly sure if it turned out like a smirk or a genuine one.
âNothing, darlinâ.â
You rolled your eyes and Jake could decipher the smallest quirk of your lips, the lightest blush on your cheeks and wondered if it had always been there but just been too blind to see it.
You didnât say anything about your notebook, didnât seem to notice it was missing, too distracted by the morningâs event.
That night, Jake went home with the notebook. He didnât quite have the heart to let go of it yet. Lying wide awake in his bed, with what had become a precious artifact, open, he kept staring at that very last page. Carefully, heâd trace the lines out with his fingers, in adoration of the way you saw him. Touch over every brush of the pencil you had evidently, carefully thought about.
He struggled to find sleep, whenever he would finally turn off the light, it would only take minutes before heâd turn it on again, grab the notebook and flip through it. He felt like his insides were melting every time his eyes raked through the pages.
Knowing he had been your secret muse all this time was setting a new desire alight in his chest, burning as fiery hot as a SuperHornet engine. Jake wanted, almost foolishly, to pose for you. Look into your eyes as youâd trace every single line of his face, body and soul, knowing you wouldnât even have to stare at him to get him perfectly, down to every detail.
When he finally managed to fall asleep, you visited his every dream, and being haunted had never sounded so delightful.
âWhere the fuck is it,â you grumbled under your breath, frantically moving the couch cushions around.
It was only when you were already at home that you noticed the very unusual absence of your drawing notebook. The realisation that you had forgotten it on base was scary. But the realisation you had in this instant, as you had come earlier than usual to look for it, that perhaps you hadnât simply forgotten but downright lost it, was terrifying. You trusted your squadmates enough to believe that they would respect your boundary even without yourself present to firmly remind them of it, but what if any other people found it ?
God, youâd actually have to transfer base.
âYou looking for something ?â
You jumped and grabbed at your chest where your heart had a similar reaction as you turned around.
âJesus Christ, Seresin ! Donât sneak up on me like that !â
âIf I really wanted to sneak up on you, sweetheart, I can assure you I wouldnât have announced myself quite this loud.â
Your eyes rolled automatically, a reflex you had taught yourself a long time ago whenever Jake spoke.
âYeah, right, thank you, you can leave nââ
You stopped dead in your tracks. Eyes fixed on Jakeâs right hand and what it was holding.
Jake saw you freeze and suddenly he lost the cocky edge. He cleared his throat.
âI think you forgot this yesterday.â He now held the notebook in both hands in front him, but not quite holding it out for you yet.
You didnât dare to meet his eyes, because you knew, without even him saying anything, you knew. He had gone through it. Mortification couldnât even begin to describe the feelings going through you as you stayed there, just staring at your notebook in his hands. Somehow, despite this situation being your worst nightmare, in the back of your mind something told you that in between Jakeâs hands, the notebook felt at its right place. The muse holding close to him every piece of art he had inspired.
You knew. And Jake obviously knew you knew.
âYouâre very talented.â He finally said, trying to break the silence.
âItâs not talent itâsââ
âHard work,â he finished with a small, endeared, smile. âI know. And it shows, how hard you work I mean. Itâs beautiful.â
You gulped. âWhat is ?â
âAll of it.â
A pitt was forming in your stomach. You hated how he was dancing around it, hated how careful he was around the subject and a small part of you wished he could have just laughed at you, made some cocky remark, at least that way youâd have gotten some reaction out of him. You didnât truly understand his behavior, did he think he was showing you mercy after going through the most intimate item in your life, one that was practically a pathway into your mind and heart ?
You cleared your throat, knowing youâd have to be the one to address the obvious elephant in the room.
âAre you not gonna ask why I draw you over and over again like a maniac ?â You asked, trying to sound jaded and uninterested despite the beating of your heart.
The smile that stretched his lips was soft.
âI donât need to.â
Something in you bloomed at the way he looked at you.
Jake finally handed you the notebook, which you took with shaky hands that you struggled to hide.
You both stood in silence for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. Dancing on your feet, you chewed the inside of your cheek. What the fuck were you supposed to say ? This felt like too big of a conversation to have at six in the morning just before the morning flight.
âYouââ you immediately cringed at the way your voice was strained and cleared your throat, âdo you wanna take one ?â You offered, eyes looking everywhere but directly at his eyes.
His eyes seemed to widen in barely hidden shock before he schooled himself.
âOf course I do, you know Iâd never missed an opportunity to have my own face hanging around my place.â
You chuckled, feeling at ease by the way he lifted off a bit of the emotional tension. You handed him the notebook back, him holding it didnât look as terrifying now.
âHere, choose and just rip it out.â
Youâd thought heâd take some time to think about it, ponder about his decision, but no. Jake opened your notebook with a speed and ease that suggested he knew exactly what he was looking for, and he did, landing at the last page. Jake showed it to you.
âCan I ?â
You nodded, temporally surprised by his overly respectful behavior. He laid the notebook down on the nearby table and began to carefully rip the page.
When he finished, he handed it back to you, keeping the page he had ripped for him.
âThank you.â
Silence filled the room again. And when you finally dared to lift your gaze and look in his eyes, it almost took your breath away. How gently, how patiently he was looking at you, a small, almost encouraging smile on his lips. You realized that he was waiting for you to talk, allowing you to take that next step and you guessed it was only natural. You were the one drawing his face everywhere in your notebook like a psychopath. He didnât need to ask, he had said. Didnât mean that in his heart he wasnât dying for you to say it out loud.
You took in a big breath, and took a step towards him. A small physical reconciliation that you hoped youâd be able to morph into an emotional one.
âListen, Seresin, Iââ
The sudden boom of the door bursting open made both of you jerk back from each other.
âDamn,â Mickey whistled, âyouâre here early.â
The rest of the squad followed close behind him, and most of them were barely able to hide the small, knowing smile pulling at their lips. Mickey seemed to be the only one confused.
âHey, did we interrupt somethiââ
Bob elbowed him before he could finish his sentence, and he only shot his friend a death glare when he loudly exclaimed his pain and whined about âwhat was that for ?!â.
You hurriedly scurried back to your usual spot on the couch, feeling caught red handed even though you had only been standing in front of one another. Jake, much more relaxed than you, settled down next to Javy on the other couch, across the room and facing you.
You feigned a normal behavior by opening your notebook, about to pretend to draw like your world hadnât shifted on its axis just a few seconds before.
Right as you opened it, something fell right from between the pages and into your lap. Frowning, you picked it up. It was a folded piece of paper, you carefully opened it and felt your heart stutter in your chest.
On the paper were drawn two very simple stick figures. Though, simple, they were very recognizable. It was you and Jake. The fucker had drawn himself with an eight pack and it tear a quiet laugh from you.
The two stick figures were holding hands and their mouth lines were quirked up in happy smiles. Objectively, it looked bad, primary children level. But it was his. He had drawn that while thinking of you.
Warmth bloomed throughout your body and you looked up, searching Jakeâs gaze. You didnât have to search long because he was already looking at you, awaiting your reaction. Truth be told, you donât exactly know what you did, perhaps you bit your lip, shyly smiled, or even simply stared at him in astonishment, whatever you did, it seemed to please him.
Jake smiled. And he suddenly looked exactly as you had drawn him on that page that now had found a new place in the front pocket of his flight suit. A sight that would have blinded you had you not learned to love its brightness.
And without thinking, almost on instinct, you picked up your pencil.
Authorâs note : omg it felt like such a long time since Iâve written for my babyyyy !! Just some little fluff, hope you like it !đđ
Also is this projection about me wanting to be any good at any sort of art ? Yes it might. And the title sucks because I couldnât, for the life of me, find something else.
Alsoooo, I feel like lately my fics have been having very little dialogue and a lot of internal thoughts about feelings and stuff ? Is that annoying to read ? Please be honest guys
Your my favorite Dagger Squad writer/blog đ I'm a certified Jake girl until I die, but you also have me reading the other squad members' fics they're so good đ€âš love love love you, thank you for taking the time to bless us with your work! đ
This is such high praise thank you so much !!!đ„čđ„čđđđ
Iâm so glad I could get you to read for some other members of the squad, i take it as an honor, truly.
And again, THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS SO SWEET, IT MEANS THE WORLDđ«¶đ«¶đ«¶đ«¶đđđđđ
i am just đ€€đ€€đ€€ after that natasha fic. OMG. GIRL. (the bisexual in me felt so validated omg)
i feel like it literally took my breath away i just wanna go sit besides nat like this đ„șđ„șđ„ș (shes sooo mommy i cant ARGH)
OMG THANK YOU SO MUCHđđ Iâm so glad you liked it, literally writing it gave me sooo much trouble so Iâm truly glad to know it turned out okay in the end !!
She is absolutely so mommy and it is a CRIME, and I mean it, how little fics there are about her, LIKE NATASHA FANS PLEASE RISE AND LETâS GET MORE PHOENIX CONTENT OUT !
And Iâm so happy you felt validated, cause even though the writing process for this fic was hell on earth, the premise really meant a lot to me !
THANK YOU AGAIN IâM SO GLAD YOU LIKED ITđđđđ«¶đ«¶đ«¶
âWhat the hell are you doing here ?â Mickey asked, eyebrows raised as he saw you join the rest of the squad at their designed spot at the Hard Deck.
âWhat ?â You asked, âI canât join my favorite coworkers for a bit of fun ?â
Reuben eyed you up and down, his surprised expression mimicking Mickeyâs when he noticed you were in the same clothes you had left in for your date of the night.
âWas it that bad ?â He questioned, voice taking on a hint of empathy.
âIt was okay,â you shrugged, lying through your teeth.
After the catastrophic evening youâd spent, the last thing you wanted was to expose to your coworkers just how bad and plainly sad your romantic and sex life had gotten over the past few years.
Jake let out a chuckle as he sinked a striped ball over by the pool table, âwerenât you supposed to spend the night at his place as well ? Poor guy must have not even know the clit existed for you to be here with us instead of getting laid.â
âDonât be gross, Hangman.â Bradley scolded, watching him sink yet another ball.
âNot gross, just facts. So, what happened ?â Jake pressed.
Shifting on your feet, you debated on how to deliver the news. You definitely couldnât say Jake was right, even if he were, admitting out loud such a thing was not a smart move, it never was with him. Alas, your short silence seemed enough for Jake to grip on and roll with.
âSee ?â One outstretched hand pointed out to you, âlisten, sweetheart, you know my generosity knows no bounds. My door is always open if you need a real man to show you a good time.â
You were about to retort something in hopes of shutting him up for good whenâ
âPlease keep that door fucking closed and locked, for all of our sakes.â Natasha said behind you, seemingly coming back from the toilet. She looked at you quizzically when she spotted you, eyes raking up and down your dressed up form, âwhat are you doing here ?â
âHer date sucked ass,â Mickey answered for you.
Natasha made a sympathetic moue that didnât even bother to hide how fake it was.
âI mean I donât want to say I told you so butâŠâ
âSo donât.â You pleaded, already embarrassed enough.
âHe did seem a bit selfish in bed.â
Javy scoffed, âthatâs not something you can see.â
âSorry, Coyote, but it absolutely is,â Natasha doubled down., pickup up her beer and taking a sip, âyour best friend is a prime example of it.â She pointed to Jake.
âHey, what the fuck ?â Jake took offense, straightening back up from taking a shot,âIâm a very generous and selfless lover,â he stated, one hand covering his heart as if he was swearing and living by those words, âthatâs why I was so very kindly offering my services to Viper over here.â
Natashaâs lips briefly curled in disgust before quickly stretching out in a smirk as she looked at you.
âOr you know, if you ever want to have a real good time, you could always finally shoot your shot with women.â She teasingly slurred, snaking a playful hand around your waist.
You swatted her hand away with a chuckle and tried to ignore the way your heartbeat had unreasonably picked up.
âYeah, maybe one day,â you joked, hoping nobody would notice the strange strain in your voice.
âWell, you know who to call when that day comes,â she winked at you, grabbing a pool cue and leaning on the table, giving you an unintentional â or was it ? â view of her cleavage.
And no matter how loud you screamed in your head at your eyes not to go there, your gaze still inevitably landed on the swell of her breasts. How pretty they looked and sat against the fabric of her fitted tank top. You could even make out the faint outline of her nipples poking through when she straightened back up after sinking a ball, and you immediately averted your gaze.
âPhoenix, you have to stop believing you can turn every straight girl gay, itâs doing awful things to your ego,â Jake said, taking his turn leaning over the pool table.
âExcuse me, youâre the one talking about ego ?â She snickered.
âTo be fair, remember that one girl you flirted with when we docked in Cannes during deployment two years ago ? She came out as a lesbian right after.â Mickey remarked.
Natasha pointed to him, visibly delighted by his intervention, âthank you Fanboy, for backing up that I am simply stating facts.â
Jake scoffed, shaking his head, but you barely heard any words that came out of his mouth after that.
Natasha was a lesbian.
It was known, widely. It wasnât something she hid or made a big deal about. She never felt the need to outright and explicitly spell it out to people, mostly because she thought she quite looked the part but also because she didnât like the fact that most people seemed to think it was something that needed to be announced, straight people didnât need to proclaim their sexuality, so why should she ?
Still, if Natasha thought her attraction to women was quite obvious, it still felt like a shock to you when three years prior to this, when you had just been admitted as the newest member of their already well knitted squad, she had casually mentioned an ex.
âOh my god, my ex used to do this all the time ! She was stuck on the idea thatââ
Your brain had immediately latched on to one single word, and you never knew such a short assemblage of letters was enough to somehow rewire your entire world view.
âSheâ.
You had felt something in your chest then, like your heart contracting uncomfortably in your rib cage, and you didnât like the feeling of it if you were honest. You hadnât liked it at all.
But you forced yourself to show none of it, because what even was this reaction ? You didnât want Natasha to think you were uncomfortable, or worse, somehow disgusted by her casual admission. You had plenty of friends who were themselves attracted to women, whether they were bisexual, lesbian, pansexual⊠so what the actual fuck was going on with you ?
You simply nodded as she continued to tell her story, hoping she wouldnât notice the absolute turmoil of emotion her words had caused within you. Eventually, you had gained the courage to engage the subject, if only to show her that you were totally cool with it and that whatever weird reaction you might have let slip had nothing to do with who she was.
âSo,â you started and immediately cleared your throat when your voice came out strangely croaky, âare you also into men or just women ?â You asked, opting for casualness but completely failing as your voice ever so slightly wavered on the word âwomenâ.
Thankfully, Natasha didnât seem to notice the unusual and strange behaviour you were exhibiting.
âOh no just women, thank God for that,â she chuckled, âyou ?â
She hadnât meant anything by it, truly, she was simply returning the question, one she personally deemed harmless. But it sill landed on you as a shock â the second of the night you had realised uneasily â and it made your heart skip a beat as you replied what was the undeniable truth, your undeniable truth.
âOh Iâm straight.â
That day Natasha had simply hummed, quickly moving on to other matters and you had been so, so thankful for that.
The years following, you and her had grown to be close friends, and who wouldnât ? Being the only two women pilot in an elite Naval Aviation squad was bound to strengthen the ties. Never again had you felt this weird sensation of contraction in your chest whenever Natasha mentioned her sexuality or the women sheâd been with, and you were glad, because it meant it had been a fluke. Just a weird, inexplicable, and one time thing kind of body reaction. You had both even fallen into the depth of friendship where youâd pretend flirt with each other, making the rest of the guys very confused about which way you swung.
âIâm straight,â you assured them almost on a weekly basis.
âThen why the fuck do you act gay as fuck with Phoenix ?â Jake would interject, âI mean, donât get me wrong, itâs very hot to watch,â he wiggled his eyebrows at you and you made a gagging sound, âbut you ought to admit itâs a little weird.â
âOh my god, Hangman, itâs just for fun ! Donât ruin it, please,â Natasha would defend you.
Before Jake could get another word in, Mickey would chime in.
âYeah, itâs just something people do, I pretend Iâm gay with Payback when we go out.â
âYeah but thatâs because Itâs you and you are fucking weird, Fanboy, nothing about you surprises me anymore.â
Natasha would often jokingly â half jokingly ?â tell you to try women, that unless you actually had sex with one, how could you know for sure you didnât like it ? One time you had retorted that she should try men then, just to be sure. She had casually replied that she had actually hooked up with a man once, and concluded it wasnât for her. That had shut you up quickly.
Jakeâs voice rising in volume got you out of your thoughts.
âThatâs bullshit, having sex for six hours in a row is physically impossible. What, you actually think I would believe this ?â
Natasha let out a laugh, âthatâs true Hangman, I donât know what you want me to tell you. You know, women donât really need a refractory period, so as long as you both want it, you can just keep going.â
Jake simply scoffed for what felt like the millionth time tonight, and Natasha saw the perfect opportunity to push harder. She walked up to him, her cue stick still in hand and rubbed his shoulder, as if comforting him while her face took on an empathetic expression.
âItâs okay, buddy, I know that if you men last longer than ten minutes itâs a time to put in the records books.â
Jake simply looked at her, and she seemed absolutely delighted to notice he didnât have an answer ready and loaded like he usually did.
âAnd you guys always think penetration is the main event when itâs not even in the top three things you can do in bed,â she pressed on.
âAnd how would you know ?â Jake questioned once he had finally gotten his voice back, clearly offended his dick wasnât considered the centerpiece of sex.
She didnât even dignify him with a response, simply choosing to maintain his daring gaze with a smirk and a raised brow, âyou have so much to learn of this world, Bagman.â She finally said in a condescending tone.
Natasha carelessly handed off her cue stick to Javy and made a beeline for you, ânow letâs get you drunk, gorgeous, you need to forget about tonight.â
You couldnât have agreed more.
The drinks kept magically appearing in your hands, you werenât sure exactly who was refilling them with such efficiency but you were happy that with every sip you took, the memory of your disastrous date was slowly leaving your brain, drowning in the alcohol you were rapidly swallowing.
The night passed in a blur. The only clear things you could make out was Natashaâs voice in your ear, whispering things you couldnât quite understand but that still made you giggle uncontrollably, her hands gripping your forearm when she laughed or squeezing your waist as she walked behind you⊠You werenât sure anymore if it was her closeness or the alcohol making you feel so warm.
When she drove you home, you found yourself feeling disappointed the night was ending. She helped you out of the car, helped you inside your building and accompanied you all the way to your apartment door on the sixth floor.
âThanks, Nat,â you slurred, exhaustion and alcohol weakening your speech as she was opening your door with your keys, she had stayed perfectly sober to keep an eye on you.
âNo problem, sweetheart.â
A swarm of butterflies seemed to take off as violently as Super Honerts in your stomach at the nickname. Natasha was the type of person to regularly use pet names and terms of endearments for her close friends. You had always liked it, it always made you feel strangely warm inside, all gooey like. It made you feel special.
âThank God we have the day off tomorrow huh ?â She chuckled, careful to not speak too loudly in the quiet hallway.
âYep.â
Helping you inside, she took you to your bedroom, made you sat on your bed. She kneeled down in front of you and carefully started to take off the pretty heels you had chosen to wear. The visual made your head spin even more than the intoxicating amount of alcohol you had consumed.
âAre you gonna be okay ?â She asked, voice so gentle you wanted to live in its embrace forever.
You simply nodded lazily and extended your arms to her still kneeling form. Natasha smiled fondly and instantly indulged you, rising up to wrap your her arms around you.
Her smell immediately engulfed you entirely, something sweet and airy that reminded you of the beach on a bright and early spring morning. You could also faintly make out the sweaty and alcohol dripped scent of the Hard Deck from her spending all night at the bar. But instead of putting you off like it probably should have, you found yourself taking what you hoped was a discreet whiff. The combination of fragrance went straight to your brain, putting it into this strange and overly relaxed state, similar to when the alcohol had first started entering your body a few hours ago.
The feeling of her breasts pressing against yours made goosebumps rise up along your arms. She felt so soft. Unconsciously, or perhaps very much intentionally, you squeezed her harder, in a little perverted aim to feel more of her.
âGoodnight, baby.â She almost purred when she pulled away, nearly making you whine out in disappointment, but the pet name quickly acted as a soothing balm over your wound.
âGoodnight.â
You watched her exit your bedroom and keenly listened to her steps throughout your apartment, you listened as the door opened and finally closed behind her, leaving you all alone.
Your bedroom felt cold now, without Natashaâs presence to warm up the space like she usually did. Plopping down on the bed with a huff, you found it surprising that Morpheus hadnât yet taken you into his warm embrace. Instead of the much needed coma inducing sleep you were expecting, flashes of Natasha took your mind hostage â or was it really a hostage situation if you didnât mind it ?
You had always admired Natasha, that was a given, how could you not ? She was the literal and ethereal definition of a strong, independent woman, the kind every little girl looked up to and aspired to be.
Though sometimes you had to admit you acted in very strange ways around her, usually, you tried hard to not dwell too much on it because otherwise you would over analyze and pick your mind apart over every little interaction youâve ever had.
You thought about the first time you had shared the womenâs communal shower with her. Being in the military, it wasnât new for you to shower with other women, it was the norm. Something you had to forcibly start doing when entering the Naval Academy. Anxious at first, to so casually expose your naked body to any possible judgmental stares, the feeling had progressively disappeared over the years, when you realised that nobody cared. You were all women, aware of what bodies looked like, so really you had learned there was nothing to be scared or shy about. You had even found it to be a quite relaxing moment, away from the overwhelming majority of men that flew within the US Navy.
But relaxation was thrown out the window the first time Natasha had casually undressed herself in front of you, mid conversation, to go wash herself under the warm jets. Sheâd been talking to you about some apparent crazy stunt Jake had pulled â once again, she had insisted on that fact â during training. But Jake wasnât really on your mind at the moment, your brain was being sent into overdrive by the sheer vision of her.
Almost as if on autopilot, you undressed as well and followed her in the communal shower, where she was rising off under a jet while continuing to complain about your fellow squad mate. Your eyes kept quickly flicking over to her, in an irrepressible urge, a need to see more of her.
Natasha stood next to you, apparently completely oblivious to your inner crisis happening just a few centimeters away from her. Her eyes were closed as she let the warm water cascade down her body and relax her muscles. Her breasts sat prettily on her chest and your stomach churned at the sight of her perky nipples.
âI donât even know how he has all these women at his feet, I mean I can understand that heâs hot, I donât really see it but I can admit it, but as soon as he opens his stupid mouth they should be running awayâŠâ
Natashaâs eyes were closed as she kept on talking. She wetted her long black, letting her hands run comfortably down her body and you nearly let out a very embarrassing and inexplicable sound when her fingers ever so slightly brushed her breasts and caught on her erect nipples.
You felt as if liquid lava had been poured inside your lower stomach, your whole entire skin was burning and it certainly wasnât because of the lukewarm water from the baseâs showers. Your gaze continued to travel down on its own, feeling as though you didnât really have control over where your eyes wanted to roam, stare so intense, as if intent on trying to graze her with a look. You followed the curve of her sternum, down to the faint outlines of her abs, her hipsâŠ
Your breath imperceptibly hitched when your eyes landed on the space between her legs. Her pubis was covered in short, jet black pubic hair that were neatly trimmed, and when you felt some weird and down right depraved disappointment when you realised the folds of her pussy were hidden by her thighs, your head snapped away, shame and guilt eating away at your insides and replacing the enjoyable, and leg weakening feeling of warmth the acute observation of Natasha had given you.
What the actual fuck were you doing ?
That day, you hadnât stop thinking about that weird episode in the shower.
Over the years, despite the guilt and the perversion of it all, you hadnât ever stopped looking at Natasha. Prying eyes raking over her frame every time you thought she wasnât looking. Whether in the shower, on the tarmac in her flight suit, or at the Hard Deck when she was wearing those low neckline tank tops that pushed her breasts together and made, ever so subtly, apparent the outline of her nipples. It was a habit you found hard to shake, but to made it easier on your conscience you had reduced it to envy. Envy, and perhaps a little healthy jealousy you would say.
Natasha was gorgeous, truly. From the refined traits of her delicate face to the well sculpted and taken care of muscles of her body, there wasnât an inch of her that wasnât beautiful. So yeah, if you looked a little too long at her naked breasts in the shower, it was because you envied her, wished yours would be as pretty and sit as nicely as hers. And if you happened to catch an unconventionally extensive look at her lips, it was because they looked good, so soft⊠Her hands, delicate but strong at the same time, looked like they were well designed to⊠to hold a control stickâŠ?
And if sometimes, very rarely, you wondered how her perfect tits would feel in your hands, well, you had simply decided it was nobodyâs business. Strangely enough, you had also decided it was none of yours either.
When your drunk brain, whether still drunk from the alcohol or now drunk from these thoughts about your squad mate you werenât sure, finally let you go to sleep, it was a restless one. Filled with images of her.
Waking up was rough, to say the least. Your head was pounding, and an immediate wave of dizziness hit you as soon as you tried to sit up.
Yeah, you were never doing this again. Or⊠well, at least not until the next time youâd hook up with a guy and it ended up making you miserable instead of relaxed and euphoric like good sex was supposed to make you feel.
Flopping back down on your pillow, careful not to worsen your headache, a loud knock on your door startled you.
âOh my fucking god,â you groaned into your sheets, seriously debating on getting up to go get the door.
You were fully ready to go back to sleep when the person knocked again, louder this time.
âOpen up, bitch, Iâve got breakfast.â Natashaâs voice traveled all the way to your bedroom.
Weirdly, the sound of her was apparently enough to make you forget about your dizziness as you got up and hastily made your way to the door, heart beating perhaps a bit too loud as it should have been simply greeting a friend.
Opening up the door, you were met with Natashaâs dazzling smile. Her hair was up and she was wearing another one of her goddamn tank top, and you didnât know if it was a curse or a blessing for you that she loved wearing them so much. She was holding up a paper bag from which came a heavenly smell, one that was slowly waking up your upset stomach from the alcohol. Before you could even say anything, Natasha made her way inside, walking right past you, gifting you with a quick whiff of her sweet smell.
She put the paper bag on your small coffee table and went straight for the cabinets in your kitchen, getting out a pill of ibuprofen and filling up a glass of water before making her way back to you and handing both items to you.
âDrink this.â
Chuckling at her authoritative tone, you took the pill and the glass, âyes, maâam.â
Taking a sip, you missed the way Natashaâs eyes seemed to ever so slightly glaze over, suppressing a smile by poking the inside of her cheek with her tongue. What you did notice though, was the way it had felt to call her that, way too good. Jesus, the military really had messed you up, you thought.
You also missed the way a teasing glint went alight in her gaze as she watched you diligently swallow the ibuprofen pill.
âGood girl,â she purred, walking past you, giving your waist a playful squeeze on the way as she started to set up breakfast in your living room.
You forced yourself to chuckle out loud, trying to sound amused and not like those two casual words had rewritten your entire DNA. A huge flush hit your entire body, making you feel way too hot all of a sudden, weird, Californian heatwaves werenât supposed to hit yet at this time of yearâŠ
Hyper aware of everything happening in your body, the way your clothes sticked uncomfortably to your skin, the way your heart hadnât slow down its frenetic rhythm ever since you had opened the door, the way the place between your legs kept getting warmer and warmerâŠ
You finally joined her over with the awkward and confusing sensation of your panties sticking to your progressively wet folds. Yeah, you were really craving a good fuck, that was all. Your brain was overwhelmed with horniness, not thinking straight, which surely explained all these strange feelings⊠right ?
You plopped down on your couch next to her as she immediately handed you a plate full of pancakes, your mouth watered and your heart swelled at the sight.
âYouâre the best.â
âI love youâ was on the tip of your tongue, something you had told her casually numerous times. She was your friend, friends loved each other, so why did it feel so awkward to say it now ?
âI know,â she simply replied with a smile, biting a piece of pancake off her fork.
Conversation flowed easily after that, thank God. You were back in your usually rhythm, a familiar one that brought a pleasant warm to your chest.
You were complaining about how Cyclone had been on your ass lately when the sounds coming from the tv, turned on for some background noise, stopped you short.
The two main characters of some shady tv show were getting it on, and that was putting it lightly to say they were full fucking like wild rabbits on the HD screen of your TV.
Natasha made a disgusted noise, prompted simply by the view of heterosexual inter course, you laughed before letting out a big sigh.
âI really, really need to get properly laid. Nat, Iâm so fucking horny all the time, itâs becoming a seriously urgent issue.â
She simply looked at you for a moment, an unreadable expression flashing in her eyes.
âShit, maybe Iâll actually end up taking Hangmanâs offer if this keeps going like that.â
That seemed to wake her up.
âYeah, hell no. Youâre not doing that.â
âWell I might need to at one point you know, I physically cannot keep going on like that. Itâs actually becoming damaging to my mental wellbeing.â
She paused, putting her pancake plate away on the coffee table.
âIf you really wanted to get laid properly, you could always try women.â
âNatâŠâ
âHey, it doesnât have to mean anything if you donât want it to. Iâm just saying, any woman could take way better care of you than fucking Hangman. You just have to have an open mind.â
Her dark eyes were boring into yours, not letting you escape her stare and you felt yourself squirm under her prying gaze.
âDoes âany womanâ include you ?â You asked chuckling, the joking tone you used leaving a bitter taste in your mouth for a second.
A smirk stretched Natashaâs lips as she snaked a flirty hand onto your thigh, giving it a squeeze.
âYou know it does, gorgeous.â
You almost jerked your thigh away from her touch from how much the casual contact ignited such a strong fire in your lower stomach. She was sitting so close to you, her thumb rubbing small circles on your clothed skin, she smelled so good, and fuck her nipples were peaking through that goddamn tank top againâŠ
You flicked from her eyes to her lips without anything you could do to prevent it, like her mouth was a magnet, attracting you with the force of physics you simply could not resist. Natashaâs smirk widened, raising a small, inquisitive brow.
âSweetheart,â she tried to grab your attention, voice as soft as a murmur, âis there something you wanna ask me ?â
Your chest was heaving with each breath you took, it felt as if your whole skin was burning as your eyes went back up to her eyes. Something warm bloomed in your lower stomach at the way she was looking at you, her hand slid higher on your leg, her fingers brushing your inner thigh and getting dangerously close to the space between you legs that was now almost painfully throbbing in your panties. Her question barely registered in your mind, the word âsweetheartâ had taken hostage all your cognitive abilities.
âBaby ?â She gently prompted, an amused smile replacing her self assured smirk, âI asked you something.â
Oh fuck.
All doubts, deep rooted denial and inhibitions went out the window. Your brain was clouded by a pleasurable fog, one that went by the name of Natasha.
A very embarrassing sound escaped you without anything you could do about it, like a little pathetic wine, a desperate call for her to get closer. Natasha bit her lip, eyes becoming progressively more half lidded. She squeezed your tender flesh.
âThatâs a very pretty sound, sweetheart.â She cooed, the praise seeping into your mind, melting you from the inside out, âbut I need words. Can you do that for me ? Tell me what you want ?â
Her hand was becoming more daring along your thigh but her body remained a respectful distance away from yours, it made you ache, it felt unbearable, wrong even for her to be for far away from you.
âI want you,â you managed to speak up in a breath, voice strained and pleading, âI want you so bad, Nat, please.â
Natashaâs cheeks took on the prettiest flush, âI always knew youâd beg so pretty, sweetheart.â Her hand left your thigh to settle on your waist while the other cupped your cheek, âdo you want me to kiss you ?â
You nodded eagerly, not sure you could handle another second of her lips not being on yours, but she tsked softly.
âUse your words like a good girl, mmh ? I need to hear you say it, gorgeous.â
âFuck,â you whined out, dizzy with sheer desire, you probably would have been embarrassed if the only thought plaguing your mind at the moment wasnât her tongue deep down in your throat, âI want you to kiss me so fucking bad, Nat, please donât make me wait any longer.â
âAwww, baby,â she cooed in a faux sympathetic tone, âdonât worry, Iâm gonna take such good care of you.â
Natasha finally leaned in and her lips collided with yours with a gentleness that contrasted greatly with the fire igniting your insides. The contact seemed to unlock a floodgate of sensation within you and a small moan escaped from the back of your throat, one that undeniably testified to just how much you loved this. Her tongue gently probed at the entrance of your mouth, as if asking for permission, and you easily gave it to her, opening up your lips to let her in. Natashaâs tongue met yours and you could faintly taste the maple syrup she lathered her pancakes in only minutes prior. She lightly sucked on your tongue and you didnât even know it was possible but somehow you felt the sensation explode deep within your lower stomach. Natasha pulled away and you hadnât even realized you were running out of breath, too eager to taste more of her. She looked nothing short of heavenly. A few strands of hair had escaped her bun, her face was flushed with the most beautiful shade of red you had ever been given the chance to see, her lips were shiny with both of your spit and ever so slightly swollen.
âHow did that feel ?â She asked, eyes flicking between your mouth and your eyes.
Words couldnât have possibly described what that had felt like. Unable to find your voice, you leaned in again, almost lurching at her and your mouth met hers a bit more forcefully than intended. You felt her lips stretch out into a coy smile into the kiss and that only fueled the desire burning in your veins. She hummed against you, the sound resonating within you and now making you hyper aware of all the slick accumulating in your panties.
âFuck, I love how eager you are,â she whispered against your lips, mouth never leaving yours.
In one swift movement, Natasha swung one of her leg across both of yours and suddenly, she was on top of you, her weight sitting down on your lap. Your breath hitched into the kiss, a mix of surprise and sheer horniness. You felt as if your internal temperature had just risen by a thousand degrees. Her weight pressing down on you felt nothing short of perfect, and you felt another string of slick get helplessly pushed out of you at the knowledge that the only thing separating her pussy from yours were a few mere items of clothing.
Having her on top of you felt feverish. For a second you were weirdly brought back to the first time you had ever watched porn, your brain waking up to something entirely new, maybe a little bit scary and yet so enticing and exciting you couldnât look away, your sense awakening for the first time. It wasnât your first time now, but it sure felt like it was. Even the briefest of Natashaâs touch was enough to have you moan louder than the jackhammering of the guy you had hooked up with the night before.
âYou can touch me you know,â she whispered in your ear, licking your lobe and lightly biting down on it, sending a shiver down your spine.
It was only then that you realized your arms had been uselessly sticking to your sides, like touching her was something out of a dream and not something you were actually allowed to do. When Natasha pulled away, she seemed to decipher the conflict, the hesitation in your eyes. She smiled softly and quickly pecked your lips before taking your hands in hers, and oh so slowly guiding them to the hem of her tank top, slipping right underneath.
Her skin was warm, burning even, and it felt good knowing that maybe you were affecting her even just a third of the way she was affecting you. You watched, mesmerized, as the bumps that your pair of hands made underneath the fabric traveled up her stomach, which dipped at the brush of your fingertips. How fucking cute, you thought. Her ribs and⊠your eyes widened when it finally clicked into your slowed down horny brain where the final destination was. Natasha let out an amused chuckled above you as her hands snaked down to hold your wrist and guide your hand to the one place you had been in denial about obsessing over for the past three years.
A desperate moan left your lips as soon as your hands made contact with her breasts, they felt divine and fit perfectly into your palms, like they were fucking made for you, your brain supplied.
âYeah,â Natasha encouraged you, voice just a tiny bit lower, clouded by lust, âalways knew you were a boobs girl.â Her sentence ended in a pleasured hum when you squeeze her tender flesh.
âWhat do you mean ?â You asked breathily, her words somehow registering into your mind.
Her smirk widened, pupils dilated as she looked down at you.
âWhat ? You seriously thought I wouldnât notice you sneaking peeks at my tits ?â She leaned in, stealing kisses off you as she spoke, âyouâre not exactly discreet, baby. I didnât even liked these tank tops that much until I noticed that you very much loved them.â
A fleeting embarrassment made its way through the fog clouding your brain, âyou have amazing boobs, Nat,â you whined, as if that explained every perverted look you had stole of her.
She made a low, appreciative sound in her throat.
âItâs okay, no need to be shy now, sweetheart. Theyâre all yours,â she encouraged you, arching a little into your touch.
This last sentence shouldnât have made you shiver as much as it did. You squeezed them a little tighter, loving the weight on your palms. You let out a choked out moan when your thumbs rubbed over her nipples and you couldnât believe you were feeling this as strongly as if she were the one touching you.
âFuck,â she breathed out, âkeep doing that.â
âYou like that ?â You asked, voice shaky and betraying your sheer need to please her.
She hummed as her hips began to slowly grind against yours. The sensation sent a spark of electricity through you as you continued to grope and massage her breasts, your thumbs circling her perky nipples. When you got enough confidence to try and be a bit daring, you slightly pulled on her erect buds, perhaps a bit more forcefully than intended. You were about to apologize but the moan Natasha let out shut you up.
God, What a beautiful sound. One that only sunk you deeper into your daze, with one thought screaming at the forefront of your mind : please her, make her feel good.
Natashaâs hips sped up a bit, shamelessly rutting her clothed pussy against yours and you didnât even dare to imagine the state of your panties at the moment. You watched, mesmerized, as her eyes closed, focusing on the sensation, one of her hands met yours through the fabric of her tank top, urging you to squeeze harder.
A sudden urge took a hold of you and the words were out of your mouth almost as soon as your mind had thought them.
âCan I take it off ?â
She pretended to think it over for a painfully long, agonizing second.
âOnly because you asked so nicely,â she purred before grabbing the hem of her tank top, looking you in the eyes and oh so slowly pulling it off.
Her upper body slowly revealed itself to you, the fabric getting caught on her breasts and giving the slightest bounce when it finally passes over. In one final, swift movement, her top was off, thrown disregarded on your couch.
Natasha sat there, warm and soft above you with her naked breasts right in your face.
âFuck, Nat, youâre beautiful,â you marveled with transcendent honesty, because there were simply no other words for it.
The tip of her ears visibly reddened and you found it so endearing that a person as confident as her could be flustered by such a simple, but so deeply true, compliment. Emboldened by her reaction, you leaned in, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses along her collarbone. Natasha let out a shaky breath as her grinding resumed, you made your way down, letting your spit coat the swell of her breast. You licked at the valley between her breasts, the scent of her skin filling up your nostrils. God, you felt like a fucking dog in heat.
A moan vibrated in your throat when you finally closed your mouth around one of her nipples.
âOh shitâŠâ Natasha breathily moaned.
Your tongue swirled around her erect bud as your hand toyed with the other.
âFuck, baby, thatâs so good,â her hand came up behind your head to grab a fistful of your hair, gently holding you in place right where she wanted you.
Sucking on the bud one last time, you switched to her other breast. Your hands tracing down her body, landing on her ass, squeezing her cheeks appreciatively as you helped her grind herself on you. After making her whimper with a graze of your teeth you pulled back to look at her tits, nipples all puffy and swollen from your work and the visual made your pussy ache. No longer the pleasant tingling of being turned on but a true ache, an almost painful one at feeling so pent up and yet so untouched.
Natasha pulled you out of your admiration when she took your hand and guided it down her body, pushing past the waistband of her pants, past the waistband of her underwear and you gasped when your shaky fingers made contact with her core.
Fuck, she was wet. More than that, she was absolutely dripping. And you could feel the dizzying heat radiating off her pussy as your fingertips ghosted over her engorged folds.
âLetâs move to your bedroom, sweetheart,â she seductively whispered, akin to a siren luring you underwater, âthereâs not enough space on this couch for what I want to do to you.â
She stood up from your lap, extended a hand out to you. You eagerly took it and almost tumbled to the ground trying to stand on weak knees and shaky legs.
âCareful, baby,â Natasha cooed, her hands grabbing you at the waist, keeping you steady on your feet.
You caught her lips in a sloppy kiss, finding that her mouth hadnât touch yours in too long.
Stumbling through your apartment, you finally made it to your bedroom. Of course, Natasha had been there numerous times, but this time the context was so special that the vision of her in such an intimate part of your home made you swoon. Still making out, she blindly pushed you towards your bed, your hand coming up to take out her raven hair from her bun. Pulling away, you admired the way her hair framed her face and fell upon her naked breasts as Natasha gently pushed you onto the soft sheets.
Immediately pulling her with you, she landed on top of you with a giggle, and your mouth immediately latched on to one of her nipples again. The sound of her laugh melted into a moan at the contact of your wet, hot mouth.
âBaby, fuck. Sucking my tits so goodâŠâ
âNat,â you called out to her, letting her sensitive bud go, âcan weâŠâ
You hesitated on the words and how to articulate the desire and need that was throbbing under your skin. Your whole body was aching for her, in desperate need to feel her close, feel her right there.
âYeah ?â She encouraged you, eyes dilated but kind and patient as they gazed down at you.
Taking a shaky breath, you tried, âcan we do that thing lesbians do ?â
You immediately cringed as soon as the words left your mouth. For fuckâs sake, what even was that ?! That âthing lesbians doâ ? God, If Natasha wasnât walking out on you right now it would be a miracle.
âGorgeous, can you look at me ?â She gently asked and you hadnât even realized you had closed your eyes in fear of her reaction.
Very slowly, you peeled your eyes open, immediately landing on her fond expression. A mix of amusement, lust and softness.
âThat thing lesbians do,â she slowly repeated, pretending to think about it as you groaned out in embarrassment, âare you talking about tribbing, sweetheart ?â
You were, you absolutely were.
Funnily enough, Natasha had been the one to teach you about tribbing years ago, when you had subtly inquired about lesbian sex. You had been hung up on her words and explanations then and now there was nothing more you wished than to share that with her, be that close to her.
You nodded, not trusting your voice to say anything wise.
Natasha hummed, âyeah ? You wanna rub pussies, baby ? Want to feel my clit on yours, all wet and slippery ?â
âYes,â you so quickly agreed, her words only deepening your desire to do it, âyes, yes please Nat.â
Begging came to you surprisingly quickly when Natasha was involved, you noticed, and you werenât sure if it made you more ashamed or turned on.
She hummed again, âI guess that can be arranged,â she teasingly conceded, her head leaning in to place fleeting kisses on your jaw, nipping at your skin and immediately soothing it with her tongue.
Her lips made her way down your neck, and you whimpered when she sucked at a particularly sensitive spot.
âYou sound so good, sweetheart,â she praised in the crook of your neck, âso responsive, moaning so sweetly for me.â
When her mouth arrived at the neckline of your t-shirt, she looked up, silently asking for your permission and you almost knocked into her from how fast you sat up to tear it off with shaky hands.
She watched with half lidded eyes as you lied back down on your pillow, waiting for her mouth to set alight your skin again. Her gaze fell upon your naked breasts, not for the first time â she did her own share of peeking in the showers â and she made an appreciative noise in her throat.
âFuck, look at you, baby. Youâre so beautiful,â she marveled, letting her hands scoop up your boobs, ânipples so fucking perky for meâŠâ
âFuckâŠâ you breathed out when her warm mouth engulfed one of your nipples, the other enduring the pulling and pinching of her fingers.
You were pretty sure your pants were completely soaked through, and there was a part of you that genuinely thought you would actually die if Natasha didnât make her way down south immediately.
Your hand made its way through her hair, grabbing a fistful of it and gently tugging, trying to ease the loving assault on your nipples that was only worsening the ache in your panties.
âPlease can we do it now ? I need you so fucking bad,â you whined out.
Natasha pulled back, gently brushing some hair away from your face that had stuck to your sweaty forehead.
âI know you do, sweetheart.â She purred, letting her nails drag down your stomach, all the way to the waistband on your pants, â but see you are so used to men going straight to the point, you donât know what itâs like to take your time,â she spoke, now toying with your zipper as you pathetically whined out again, your hips pushing towards her on their own, she chuckled, âI promise you wonât be complaining in a minute, sweet girl.â
She slowly took off your pants, and were met with the sight of your soaked through panties, clinging to your wet core.
âOh baby,â she cooed, a hand coming up to pull on one of her nipple, as if to release some tension, âlook at you,â she traced a finger down your clothed slit and you violently shuddered.
You made a helpless noise as Natasha continued to probe and poke at your covered core, making more slick leak out of you.
You yelped when she suddenly brought her face to your burning core, her nose touching your clit through your panties as she inhaled, taking in the sweet scent of your arousal. This probably should have made you embarrassed, but you pressed yourself a little closer to her, loving the way she seemed to need you as desperately as you needed her.
âYou smell so fucking good, sweetheart. Been dreaming about this for so long.â She groaned, voice a bit raspier than before and you swore you felt the vibration of it in your entire body.
You werenât sure how this was possible but your legs were already shaking a little bit.
Natasha took off your panties, savoring the way the fabric tried to clung to your wet core. At the same time, she took her own pants and underwear off and you physically clenched in anticipation. Natasha must have seen the hope lighting up your eyes because she chuckled softly.
âNot yet, baby.â
Her hands rubbed your lower stomach before getting down, purposely avoiding your pussy to affectionately squeeze at your inner thighs.
âJust let me get to know this pretty pussy first, yeah ?â
You simply nodded, suddenly feeling the need to obey her every word, please her with your submission. And your heart fluttered at the same time as your empty walls when she smiled, visibly appreciative of your sweet behavior. She leaned in, stealing a gentle kiss from your lips.
âThatâs it, Just relax and let me make you feel good.â
âYes,â you dumbly agreed, voice a bit shaky from the sheer intensity of your arousal.
Natasha squeezed your thighs affectionately, letting her nails trace the shape of your cunt, not even touching your folds, just the outside of it, making your legs twitch from the tickling sensation.
The long awaited first contact made you jolt just before making you moan out embarrassingly loud for such a fleeting touch. Both her thumbs were working your outer lips, gently rubbing the engorged tissues up and down. Natasha scooped up some of the slick that was profusely leaking out of you to bring it back up your core, slathering your pussy with it, she took a second to admire you.
âYour pussy is so pretty baby, most beautiful thing Iâve ever seen, fuck.â
You saw one of her hands briefly rub in between her legs, as if the sight of you was too much to bear and she desperately needed some relief from it.
âSweetheart,â she spoke in a breath, âIâm gonna fuck you so good.â
She had a little feral tone in her voice that pushed you deeper into the pleasurable daze you seemed to be in ever since her lips first kissed yours. You watched, legs open wide and leaning on your elbows, mesmerized, as she lowered herself, her back arching so beautifully, pushing up her hips and ass in the air. It strangely felt like an out of body experience, seeing her face purposefully get so close to the most intimate part of you. It was like seeing her get down on her knees for someone else and before some weird disappointment could hit you about realizing this might be all a dream, the sensation of her mouth on your cunt brought you right back within yourself.
Wet warmth immediately engulfed you, pleasure throbbing in your veins, just underneath your skin. And she hadnât even aimed for your clit, no, not at all. Natasha was busing making out with your shiny folds, kissing your outer and inner lips, licking in between them, and really you didnât even know you had nerves endings in those places.
âNatâŠâ you mewled, âthatâs so good, so so goodâŠâ you slurred out, already drunk on the few crumbs of pleasure she had given you.
Her tongue explored every inch of your pussy, except your aching clit, that she made a clear point to avoid. You had thought about complaining, whining, begging, but despite your swollen bud feeling neglected, everything just felt so good you didnât want to take the risk of her stopping.
âYeah ? You like having your pussy ate by someone who actually knows what theyâre doing ?â
âYes, yes I do, fuck⊠oh fuck Nat !â
Her tongue had moved to focus on your entrance, not breaching past, but just toying with the overly sensitive tissue that adorned your hole. She was tracing circles, or⊠were these stars ? HeartsâŠ? Didnât matter, it felt like being the canvas of the most skilled painter of all time.
âYou taste like fucking heaven, baby.â She spoke, wet lips brushing against you with every word.
âDo I ?â You questioned, half delirious, not conscious of the words leaving out your mouth.
She only smirked, her assault on your entrance stoping. Perched on your elbow, the carnal look in her eyes made you clench around nothing.
Wordlessly, she leaned down again, flattened her tongue and licked from the bottom of your hole, through your folds and finally, finally, reached your clit. She licked the underside with a pressure that made you see stars and continued to cover the top of it, the force of her tongue ever so slightly pulling your hood back. Your head fell on your pillows, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a sound you didnât know you were capable of making.
Natashaâs lips locked around your clit, sucking on it.
âYeah, you do.â She confirmed.
She returned to her ministrations. Sucking on your bundle of nerves, giving it kitten licks, very gently letting her teeth graze it⊠you couldnât guess what was coming each time and it was driving you wild.
Both your hands found refuge in her jet black hair. Your hips began to move on their own accord, rutting against Natashaâs face.
âYeah, thatâs it, gorgeous. Ride my face, does that feel good ?â
You made an affirmative noise mixed with a desperate moan.
Panting heavier, you could feel the coil in your lower stomach getting tighter and tighter with each pass of her tongue on your clit.
âYeah ? You need anything baby ?â She questioned, mouth coming off you for a few seconds.
You suddenly realised that you had been calling out her name over and over again, in a desperate need for her to know just how good she was being to you. You wanted to explain it to her, tell her every little thing you were feeling with articulate words, but all that came out wasâ
âNatashaâŠâ
Yet another drawn out moan of her name. But Natasha seemed delighted, thrilled.
âYeah I know, sweetheart, I know. Your little pussy is feeling so fucking good right now, isnât she ?â
Panting heavier, your legs actually began to shake around her head, slowly trying to close in as Natasha kept them firmly wide open.
âSuch a good girl, just relax and let go for me.â
Standing dangerously close to the edge, every fiber in your body was preparing for the intense crash of hormones, but you pulled on her hair, trying to get her off you.
âNat, please wait.â You managed through labored breath.
She immediately let up. Her brown, lust dilated eyes immediately filled with worry as she inspected you, looking for any sign of distress on you.
âShit, Iâm sorry, are you okay ?â
âYeah, yeah, Iâm good. Sorry I didnât mean to scare you, itâs justâ well I was about to cum.â
Her eyebrows frowned ever so slightly in confusion.
âThat⊠kinda was the goal, sweetheart.â She said in a light chuckle.
âBut I wanna do the tribbing thing,â you tried to reason with her.
âI know you do,â she says, voice slipping back into that syrupy, gentle register, âweâre gonna do it after, baby.â
It was your turn to frown now, and it seemed to clicked into Natashaâs mind.
âDoâŠâ she carefully started, âdo you think that cumming right now means that itâs over ?â
Even though she tried to be as neutral as possible, you sensed from her tone that what you were implying was stupid.
Suddenly feeling embarrassed, you stuttered, âI mean, uhâ yeah ? Cumming is like, the end.â You cleared your throat, âand I wanna feel that with you, while weâ um trib ? Is that the word ?â
Natashaâs whole expression seemed to melt.
âOh, baby,â she cooed, empathy dripping from her voice.
Leaning in, she planted a sweet kiss on your cheek, letting her lips linger on your skin.
âYou are so fucking sweet. My gorgeous angel, an orgasm is not the end, you donât have to stop at one. Sex is about feeling good, and as long as you want to keep feeling good, we can keep going as long as we want.â
Her words seemed to open some sort of floodgates within you.
âReally ?â
âYeah, you know whatâs amazing about our bodies ? We donât have a refractory period, we basically can have as many orgasms as we want.â
The realization settled upon you, and a big smile made its way onto your face with no way to stop it. You practically lurched at her, capturing her lips with yours.
âPlease make me come,â you pleaded, vibrating with anticipation.
But she obliged, her mouth returning to your aching clit. It didnât take long for her to bring you back to the edge, her tongue apparently having learnt over such a short time what exact spots made you cry out louder.
âI want you to soak my face baby,â she rasped against your swollen folds.
The sound of her voice vibrating against you, the feeling of her hair on your skin, the relentless assault of her tongue on your clit and the knowledge that it was Natasha in between your legs making you see stars and that youâd keep seeing many more in the next few hours, the mix of everything made the coil in your stomach snap, more violently than you had ever felt before.
Your legs immediately closed around her head, caging her in. But Natasha wasnât at all complaining.
She worked you through your high, as she glanced up to watch the beautiful visual you were offering her. Your back arched, tits pushing out towards the ceiling, head thrown back, eyebrows furrowed and mouth open on a soundless moan, as if the air was somehow trapped.
It felt like as if your ears got plugged for a moment, only able to register white noise as waves and waves of pleasure continued to roll through you, and you were completely, but very happily, helpless against it.
After what felt like a forever bliss, you slowly opened your eyes, feeling like your soul was progressively getting back into your body. Your breath was coming in short and shaky, but God did you feel at ease. You didnât recall your mattress being this comfortable, you wanted to sink down in it and never, ever get up.
The gentle pass of hands on your thighs made you look up, eyes landing on Natasha, her lips wet from your arousal stretched out into a smile of pure adoration. It made your heart swell and your arousal start up again.
Cupping her face your brought her up to you, slamming your lips against yours and she let out a surprised laugh into the kiss.
âNat, that was⊠fuck I actually have no words,â you marveled, licking your lips, tasting yourself on her, feeling like letting loose after such an intense climax, âthat felt so fucking good, I came so hard.â
âYeah, you did. Came all over my face like the good girl you are,â she praised, getting some hair away from your sticky forehead.
Letting out a little giggle out of sheer need, you felt yourself get even wetter because of the pet name.
âAre you still up to do the tribbing thing ?â She teasingly used your previous words.
âFuck yes.â You caught her lips in another kiss, apparently unable to stay too long without kissing her, ârub your pussy on mine, I need it so bad.â
For a second you looked at each other, both startled by your sudden boldness. Before you had the time to cringe or become self conscious, Natashaâs pleased groan hit your ears.
âLay back down, baby,â she cooed, one hand on your chest gently pushing you down, âIâm gonna fuck you so good.â
Your hands came up to squeeze her breasts passionately, trying to let her know how much you loved the way she talked to you. Opening up your legs wide enough for her hips to slide in, you waited in burning anticipation for the one thing you had spent way too much time fantasizing about for a so called âstraight girlâ.
Both of your gazes were fixed on each otherâs core, watching Natasha oh so slowly close the distance and finally, finally putting her wet pussy on yours.
âFuck,â you exhaled shakily, eyes trained to where you were connected.
The first thing you registered was warmth, overwhelming warmth coming from her core. It was wet, so wet that you didnât even know which one of your slick was staining the sheets.
âThis pussy is so ready for me, sweetheart, so fucking wet.â She rasped as her hips began to move, little back and forth that made her clit buck up against yours.
The friction was⊠heavenly. Unlike anything you had ever felt before. The pleasure flowing through your veins was electric, and your eyes were desperate to roll to the back of your head but your determination to keep watching Natasha rut herself against your pussy was stronger.
The moans exiting her mouth were like the ones of an angel you thought, if heaven could make sound it would definitely be this one.
âOh my god, Nat, your pussy feels so fucking good,â you cried out, reaching for her and intertwining your fingers together.
Her hips picked up the pace, the friction of your wet cores resonating loudly in your bedroom.
She had a faraway look in her lust blown eyes as her gaze oscillated between your face and the slight bounce of your boobs.
The way her engorged clit kept catching on yours was bringing you faster than ever before towards the edge, already sensitive from a first mind blowing orgasm.
âSweetheart, do you know how long I have thought about this ?â She managed through a moan, still going steady on your dripping pussy, âeverytime you came back from a shitty date, every time you peeked at my fucking boobs in the shower⊠fuck.â
Her hips stuttered as she seemed to rub a particularly sensitive spot of her clit with yours.
âEvery single time Iâve thought about this, sweetheart. Hearing you moan my name so sweetly for me, finally show you,â she cursed lowly, sounding out of breath for a moment, âyouâre not the perfectly straight girl you claim to be.â
Her whole rant was only fueling the pleasure boiling in your veins, it felt like losing your mind to the sweetest torture. You couldnât respond with anything but a desperate moan. Firmly holding your hips down, she stopped her thrusting motion, switching for a circular one.
âOhâ oh fuck, keep doing that, that feels so good, oh my fucking god Nat !â
âI know,â she moaned back, âI know, I can feel your little clit getting all hard, baby, thatâs so fucking hot.â
Your climax was approaching alarmingly fast, chest heaving violently as your whole body clenched in anticipation of the pleasure waves that would soon submerged you.
Her hips kept the same pace, same pressure, same motion that was making you lose your mind, and before you truly realised it, you didnât just fell over the edge, you were thrown off of it.
Noises from all sort were falling out from your gaping mouth, hips twitching under Natashaâs.
She fucked you through it, never stopping her movements. âThatâs it, baby, thatâs it. Let it all out, fuck, thatâs it⊠shitâŠâ
It was like white noise rigging in your ears and Natashaâs voice was the only thing coming through. When the most intense waves slowly calmed after what felt like ages, the first thing you registered was the sped up movement of Natashaâs hips, then came her moans, almost pornograohic in their high pitched melody.
Realizing she was desperately chasing her own climax, your hands found her ass, helping her rut against you while the beginning of overstimulation was sweetly creeping up on you. She looked so good, and you could feel her pussy getting slicker and slicker on top of yours, the heat coming from her close to feverish.
Natasha looked almost vulnerable, so pretty on top of you, finally chasing her pleasure after bringing you to yours twice. Your hands squeezed the flesh of her ass as the sight in front of you gave a new found confidence to your words.
âKeep going, Nat. Youâre doing so great, you look so fucking good,â you praised breathlessly, watching her face scrunch up in bliss at the sound of your voice, âuse my pussy to make yourself cum, rub that pretty clit on me.â
âKeep talking, baby,â she begged, eyes scrunched up tight, only the feeling of your pussy and sweet voice registering into her pleasure drunk brain, âplease keep talking, donât stop.â
And who were you to deny her ?
âIâm not stopping, baby, I swear. Keep fucking me, wanna feel you cum on me, Nat, wanna feel you leak all over me.â
Those words seemed to detonate something inside of her, her hips twitched before stopping completely, rendered absolutely helpless by the white hot pleasure slamming into her body.
âY/N, shit !â She moaned out so beautifully.
You helped her ride her high, your hands on her ass helping her hips move as her pussy was sporadically clenching around nothing, gushing out slick on your own puffy folds. The sight was one you wanted to imprint into your mind just in case it was your only chance of seeing it.
It was only when she came back down that her eyes opened up, immediately landing on yours, her lips quirking up in a small, dazed smile. Catching her breath, she quickly looked down at where your cores were still connected and she let out a low, appreciative sound at the slick mess in between the two of you.
âBaby,â she rasped, coming down to affectionately nudge your nose with hers, âthat was so fucking good. God, I wish I had my strap, want to see you cream around my cock so bad.â
The visual she painted in your brain was nothing short of sinful and absolutely delicious, and you whimpered in tired enthusiasm.
Lying down on top of you, she buried her face into the crook of your neck, rubbing your sweat slicked skin affectionately with her nose.
âHow are you feeling, baby ?â
âGood, so good,â you slurred, still dazed from the intensity of your orgasm.
She hummed into your skin, and for a moment you both laid there, engulfed in each otherâs warmth, basking in the comfortable silence. Then, a thought popped into your head, one you absolutely couldnât suppress anymore and needed to voice out to Natasha.
âAm I a lesbian ?â
Natasha bursted out laughing.
âHey,â you half jokingly reprimanded her, âitâs a serious question !â
She calmed down, only slightly. âSorry,â she managed through her fit of giggles, âsorry, didnât mean to laugh, sweetheart, it just caught me off guard.â
âSo,â you promoted again, âam I a lesbian ?â
Natasha lifted her head, her eyes catching yours, a fond smile replacing her chuckling and a tender look in her eyes.
âI mean, youâre definitely not straight,â she gently teased, stealing a quick kiss off you, âbut I canât tell you if youâre a lesbian, baby, thatâs for you to figure out.â
You hummed, deep in thought.
âI mean, I do like men.â You stated, matter of factly, youâve had bad experiences, yes, but it didnât mean you were any less attracted to them, whether unfortunately or not.
âYou sure do,â she chuckled, visibly remembering how you never hid the way you oggled at Jake when he took his shirt off at the beach. âAnd by the way,â she added, âyou donât need to figure it out tonight, you can leave the thinking and introspection for tomorrow, we can just cuddle and watch a movie.â
Her words filled you with warmth, and while her patience and reassurance were making your heart swell, they were also making more slick escape from in between your legs.
âAndâŠâ you began, a small smirk pulling at your lips, âmaybe after some of those cuddles, you could⊠teach me how to eat you out ? That seems so fun I really want to taste you,â you said, earnest as if you had just had sex for the very first time, feeling like those feelings were entirely new to you.
And, in a sense, they were. Saying you had felt this strongly about any guy would be a terrible lie.
She hummed, âyeah, we can do that.â Her hips slowly began to grind back into yours, and you werenât sure if she was entirely conscious of the movement.
âAnd then,â you trailed off, struggling to keep making sense as the pleasure fog was slowly clouding your brain again, meeting you like a new friend you couldnât wait to get familiar with, âthen we could do the tribbing thing again ? And I could fuck you this time.â
She quirked a playful eyebrow at you. âMmh ? You wanna fuck me, huh ? Wanna have me cry out your name under you, sweet thing ?â Her hips picked up the pace, swollen and puffy clit catching on yours.
Moaning out, you wanted to toy with her a little bit, get her a bit riled up in the hope of getting fucked harder.
âYeah, then Iâll be able to vouch for you to Jake.â
She frowned, pulled aback by the mention of her squad mate in such an intimate moment.
âWhat ?â
âYou know, that lesbians really do fuck all night.â
She bursted out laughing again, the sound a blessing to your ears, kissing you in the middle of of her laugher fit as you mirrored her, both of your breaths mingling.
And that was when you realised that being with Natasha like that didnât feel new. It felt exciting, that was for sure, but not in an unfamiliar way. Strangely, it felt like something youâd known all your life, and were just now allowing to finally fully exist. And it hit you as she smiled at you, eyes full of adoration.
Authorâs note : guys I genuinely donât know how to feel about this fic. Let me tell you the smut was supposed to be way longer than that, like it was supposed to keep going but Iâve been writing this fic for too long and I genuinely couldnât do it anymoređđ Iâve been stuck on it for weeks and I just couldnât stay forever on it, so sorry I hope itâs still okay
Also I know there isnât a lot of Natasha fans so I donât know who this will reach but whoever it might be, I hope it was alright !
Thank you guys for reading this absolute mess !đ
WHO DO YOU THINK IS THE MOST KINKIEST FROM MAIN SQUAD? Iâm talking restraints, overstimulation, WHATEVER YOU CAN THINK OF. Asking for a friend..
Smutty content down belowâŒïžâŒïž
You know what ? First person that came to my mind instantly as I read this ask : Mickey.
Like I see it so clearly, that man is a little freak. Down for anything and everything. Wants to test and experience everything. So, due to his adventurous personality, he has absolutely developed a hundred of kinks.
Iâd say his top three (in no particular order) are : restraints, definitely loves to tie up people AND to be tied up.
Second, hear me out please : Food play. STAY WITH ME GUYS. That man definitely has a sweet tooth (even a savory one to be honest, if thatâs even a thing ?) so getting to eat his favorite dessert off you ? His absolute dream. Again, down for everything. Sucking chocolate drizzle from your nipples ? Hell yes. Whipped cream off your stomach ? Yes please. Some ice cream and strawberries from your butt cheeks ? Heaven on earth.
And I want to say⊠AGAIN GUYS PLEASE HEAR ME OUT : roleplay. He just thinks itâs so fun and so fucking arousing. Getting to be whoever you want in whatever scenario you want ? Sign. him. up. His favorite scenarios ? Policeman and civilian getting arrested for speeding or something like that, strangers meeting in a bar. AND (đ„đ„đ„đ„) you being married to a real asshole who completely disregards your sexual needs and doesnât even know the clit exist, And Mickey being the new sexy neighbor who will show you a great time, and definitely know where the clit is.
Apart from Mickey, here are the two other members of the top three (in no order)
Second one I instinctively thought of, Javy. You know that saying about how the calmest and quietest ones are the freakiest in the sheets ? Boom, Javy is a prime example.
In the bedroom, he definitely gives off a whole other energy. His top three (again in no particular order). First off : orgasm denial. He absolutely loves to be the one in complete control of your pleasure, and most times you might think itâs out of cruelty, a bit of sadism on his part. But what it actually is more often than not ? Knowledge that the orgasm heâll give you after he edges you will feel so much better.
Second : biting. Whether itâs in the receiving or giving end ? It genuinely could get him to cum instantly.
Third : either face sitting or squirting. Squirting because seeing such a visual proof of your pleasure makes him feral and face sitting because having you on top of him, literally putting all your weight into his face and him still being the one in complete control ? Scratches a particular itch in his brain.
And last of this top three, because you know I had to, THE ONE AND ONLY : JAKE SERESIN.
My beloved Jake, that man ? Is nasty.
First off : prey/hunter kink. Once he knows you are on board ? Thatâs when he truly unleashes his freak. It starts off simple, light chasing through your shared apartment. Hearing your playfully scared giggles turn into gasps and moans when he catches you ? Oh man, makes him crazy. And when you properly get into this kink, boundaries, safe words, and all, you move on to bigger playgrounds, forests, mountainsâŠ.
Second : overstimulation. You might have expected something like orgasm denial from him, but no, that man thrives on giving you so much pleasure you barely can handle it. Sex is all about pleasure, and as much as he likes teasing, overwhelming you with pleasure is just so much more appealing to him.
Third : I donât really know what to call it, and sorry if you guys think this is disgusting but while looking through a list of kinks for this ask, I stumbled upon sweating. And HEAR ME OUT I BEG OF YOU, Jake sees sex as this carnal, primal thing. Loves the way bodies just react naturally to things and everything your body does during sex feels like goddamn heaven to him. So like I put sweat but I donât know how to put it otherwise. He also loves the way you naturally smell, not perfume or body wash or anything like that, you. The smell of your skin. And during sex ? You smell so much like you and it makes him go crazy. Again, I donât really know how to explain this but he likes when sex feels like sex, raw like itâs supposed to be, just two persons succumbing to the carnal desires and impulses of human nature.
THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK ANON, and giving me the chance to reflect on this !! Very funđ€đ€
I wanted to quickly post something to apologize for the lack of inactivity lately, though Iâm not posting, I promise I am writing !!
Iâve been working a on Natasha fic for some time now and itâs giving me a bit of trouble so thatâs why itâs taking longer than usual (Iâm 7k words deep so far !) so yeah, just wanted to apologize for that and assure you that I am doing my best to finish it quickly and post it for you guys !
Also for the anons whoâve sent me asks, I am gonna answer them donât you worry !!
Thank you guys for your patience, hopefully talk to you soon when I post that Natasha fic !đđ
Okay I donât remember who wrote it, but Bradleyâs mustache lightening after dating you because he goes down on you all the time(I believe this man is def an eater)
I was absolutely convinced this was something that @ddejavvu had written but after searching up on their blog I cannot find it anywhere, maybe it was deleted (cause I swear it was written by them.) if anyone knows the author, please tag them in the comments !
In the meantime, here are my thoughts on the subjectđ (and if it resembles the fic that already exists too closely please do tell me !!)
You are sooo right anon, Bradley is definitely an eater, like thatâs who he is at his core. That man does not consider oral as foreplay, thatâs the main fucking event for him. Some nights heâll spent close to hours between your legs and just nothing else. Eating your sweet pussy and grinding down on the bed is enough for him to paint his boxers.
He definitely notices the change of colors in his mustache first. That mustache has to be maintained nearly every morning, so Bradley spots the change immediately. As soon as he does, he runs over to you, shirtless and with his razor still in his hand.
âLook !â He enthusiastically points to the end of his mustache.
And sure enough, the ends are⊠lighter. As if bleached, the way hair would be after spending everyday bathing in the ocean under the blazing sun.
âWhat did you do ?â You question, confused.
âMe ? Nah, that was all you, baby.â He smirks, deepening your confusion.
âWhat do you mean ?â
Bradley smirks, leaning down slightly to place a kiss on your cheek.
âI got a nice color from spending so much time eating that sweet pussy of yours,â he whispers in your ear.
When he pulls back he is absolutely delighted to see your flustered and bewildered expression.
âNatural bleach,â he adds with a shit eating grin.
âBradley what the fuck itâs so embarrassing, you need to dye it back,â you say, ashamed beyond belief.
âAbsolutely not, I want everyone to know how good I take care of my girl,â he whisper sultry in your ear, leaving a trail of kisses on your neck.
He directs you towards the bed, his mouth never leaving your skin, and he gently pushes you on the soft sheets.
âNow spread your legs, baby. I want to go full platinum.â
You barely had time to register that Javy was screaming your call sign before a ball came crushing down next to you, sending sand flying everywhere on your opened book and sticky, lathered in sunscreen, skin.
Beautiful colors of pink and violet were painting the sky, the sun beginning his descent towards the western aerosphere. It had shined brightly throughout the entirety of the squadâs monthly beach day, bathing your skin in warmth and golden light.
âFor fuckâs sake, Javy ! You guys can shoot down a target from two hundred feet while flying at Mach one but you canât aim a volleyball for shit !â You snapped, dusting the thousands of grains of sands from your book and towel.
Next to you Natasha was hiding a laugh behind her own book.
Pointing a finger at her, you warned, âdonât you dare laugh at me, Nat.â You got up to brush off more sand off your legs, âthatâs why I hate going to the beach with them, thereâs nothing less relaxing on this earth,â you mumbled out, a frown making the lines on your forehead prominent.
âMy bad, Lightning !â Jake called out, his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound, though his tone was very much not apologetic, and the smirk stretching his lips only fueled the irritation simmering under your skin.
Glaring at him, you debated for a second on yelling back a piece of your mind, indulge into this game he seemed to initiate anytime he could. Riling you up, provoking you and then simply grinning like an idiot when you eventually ended up taking the bait.
But for once, you decided to be the bigger person. So you settled on raising your middle finger high enough that he could very much identify what lovely sign you were throwing his way.
âI love you too, darlinâ !â He yelled back.
You rolled your eyes so hard you feared for a moment that theyâd get permanently stuck.
âCareful, youâre blushing,â Natasha snickered, still lying next to you.
Scoffing you flipped her off as well, âwhich side are you on ?â
âThe side of love, darlinâ.â She smiled in a perfect imitation of Jakeâs Texan drawl.
You couldnât have contained the laugh that broke out of you even if you tried, âshit, you actually sound just like him.â
âI know,â she cooed, obviously proud of her trick, âis it turning you on ?â She inquired, wiggling her eyebrows at you.
A shocked laugh escaped you, âGeez Natââ
âOH MY GOD WHAT TIME IS IT ?â Javyâs sudden gasp made you both jump as he came running towards you, where all of the squadâs stuff was and he started abruptly digging through his bag.
âItâs seven.â Bob supplied after a quick look to his watch.
âI was supposed to meet my mom for dinner fifteen minutes ago,â he explained, panicked as he was hastily grabbing all his stuff and throwing it carelessly in his bag. âJake, can you drive me ?â
Usually, you carpooled to avoid bringing everyoneâs car and having to park too far away if the beach was busy that day.
âLet me think about itâŠâ Jake walked over, deliberately slow, pretending to think it over.
Javy groaned, not in the mood to entertain his friendâs antics, âcome on, man.â
Jake sped up a bit, raising his arms in mock defense, âalright, alright, donât throw a fit mamaâs boy. Iâll drive you.â
As he was gathering his own stuff, you suddenly saw him frown, and then frantically look around. Lifting his towel, emptying his bag only to pack it again, passing his hands in the sand in visible hope of stumbling upon somethingâŠ
You were about to throw in a witty remark when you noticed something missing on his wrist.
His watch.
His fatherâs watch.
In its place was now a tanning line. A ribbon of whiter skin surrounded by his Californian and natural Texan tan.
It didnât take a genius, nor being Jakeâs best friend to know how precious that watch was to him, or to guess that it might have been one of the last few things left from his dad.
He wore it at all times. There werenât much occasion you had seen him without it ever since youâd met him. It had stayed securely around his wrist all throughout Naval Academy, and then had stayed through every one of his deployment until he got permanently assigned in San Diego. During every flight, every mission, every exam even, every casual outing⊠You could always see the watch rest proudly on his cuff. Perhaps it was the only thing about him Jake didnât feel the need to flex, a quiet legacy he carried around with him, feeling the weight of it in his every move, every decision.
The only times he ever took it off was during underwater training and at the beach if he went for a swim. Surely a watch like that was waterproof and even capable of descending a few feet deep, but the fact that Jake was unwilling to bring it with him in an environment it was specifically designed to survive in, was only another proof of its value to him.
He never talked about it. Never ever voiced the words âmy dadâ out loud, but everyone knew. You knew.
Javy was ready to go, packed bag at his feet as he hastily threw in a t-shirt over his head, âJake ? Are you good to go ?â
Jake froze for a moment. It was rare to see him display anything other than sheer haughtiness. And it weirdly tugged at your heartstrings to see him look so lost for an instant.
You were about to help him look for his watch â sure you hated him, but that didnât mean you didnât feel empathy for him losing something so precious to him, whenâ
âYeah, yeah, Iâm coming.â He said a bit absentmindedly, his eyes still frantically looking around as he stuffed, slightly violently, all his stuff in his backpack.
He quickly got up, threw the bag over his shoulder as Javy was waving everyone goodbye and starting to make a run for Jakeâs truck.
You watched Jake with a shock you hoped wasnât too visible. Yes, he was the emotionally constipated type, never one to speak about feelings or do so much as even mention or acknowledge them, but surely when he was about to lose, perhaps forever, the one thing that probably meant more to him than the whole world, he would say something, express himself, let it out.
And you knew that if heâd speak up right now, the whole squad would stop everything and help him look for it. Javy would run right back on the warm sand and rampage through the entire beach if he had to.
Surely, he had to know that the squad wouldnât see him as weak over getting a little panicked upon losing the one item he held so dearly in his heart ?
But you watched, stunned, and for some reason with a weight pressing down on your chest, as Jake looked one last time at the beach, eyes boring into the sand as if the distance would give him some perspective and help him spot the watch in a nanosecond.
âSee you on Monday,â he threw to everyone over his shoulder, soundly halfhearted as he turned around and began to walk towards his truck, joining Javy.
The image stuck with you for some reason. it was like seeing him willingly abandon a piece of himself behind, and for what ? Just so he could hold on to his âfeelings make you weakâ Hangman persona ?
If you had been closer to him, and in any place at all to call him out on this, you would have screamed at him. Yanked him back by the collar and prohibited anyone to leave this beach until the watch wasnât back on its rightful place, on Jakeâs wrist.
âI think Iâm gonna head out as well,â Reuben spoke up, âdoes anyone want me to drop them home ?â
âMe please,â cheered Mickey, dusting some sands off his chest.
âYes, please. Thanks Reuben,â Bob smiled, gathering his things.
âIâll ride with Y/N, weâre gonna head back as well, right ?â Natasha turned to you.
If you had been able to say anything other than insults and provocative remarks, you would have reassured him.
If you had been able to consider yourself his friend, you would have helped him look for it.
âY/N ?â
But you were capable of none nor were you any of those things.
And stillâ
âActually Iâm gonna stay a bit longer,â you blurted out without really thinking about it.
âYou sure ?â Natasha questioned, skeptical.
âYeah, the sunset is beautiful, itâs still warm and my book is getting really good, Iâll stay for a bit.â You assured, as if trying to convince yourself more than Natasha.
âAlright,â she conceded, still eyeing you a bit suspiciously, âbe careful, you text me when you get home and donât forget that Pennyâs right next door if you have any problem,â she pointed to the Hard Deck which was facing the beach.
âYes mom,â you chuckled as she playfully rolled her eyes at you.
As Reubenâs car drove away, you stood there for a moment. Watching the waves crash on the beach, the soothing sound of it blending with the distant echo of music coming from the Hard Deck. This beach wasnât an especially popular one, and you marveled for a second at being the only person standing there.
Why had you stayed ?
You kinda had blurted it out without any real thoughts of what you would actually do once left alone.
Because you hadnât stayed for the sunset or your book, in fact, the book was getting a bit boring if you were honest.
Jakeâs expression when being met with the realization heâd lost his watch suddenly flashed into your mind and it made your heart clench. And perhaps it was what prompted you to start digging in the sand where his towel had previously been lying.
âI canât believe Iâm fucking doing this,â you muttered to yourself while rummaging through the sand, the watch couldnât be far⊠right ?
You didnât even notice when the warm light of the sunset got subsided by the sharp, white one of the moon.
The spot where the squad had previously established its camp was empty. You didnât find anything apart from a few seashells and a colony of small crabs that you had probably woken up from their slumber.
You probably should have gone home. The watch obviously wasnât there. But then your gaze drifted out towards the ocean⊠the guys usually played volleyball closer to the water, perhaps Jake had lost the watch around there ?
The cold breeze coming from the ocean had started to pick up as you searched the grounds of what was previously the volleyball court.
And when you didnât find anything there, you moved on to other parts of the beach, trying to remember and retrace the entirety of Jakeâs steps during the day. Your knees were aching from being constantly on them, hands pruned from the wet sand youâd been digging up, nails completely darkened by the grains. Your phone was slowly dying, using all its battery to shine inside the holes you were digging up, desperate to see a flash of silver. And it was cold, so, so cold. The wind was getting stronger, making you clutch your hoodie tighter around yourself.
The moon had well settled into the sky now, an indicator of just how much time youâd spent there.
You had wanted to give up, oh so many times. But everytime you had wanted to get up and leave, an image of Jakeâs face would flash back into your mind. The way he had looked back at the beach, like he was saying goodbye to his dad a second time. And every time, without fail, your brain had conjured images of him getting home, and calling his mom back in Texas, telling her about how he had lost the watch and the image was just too painful for you, enough to bring unwanted and in your opinion, unjustified, tears to your eyes if you thought about it too much.
Anyone could have argued you were being overly dramatic over a guy who you proclaimed your hatred towards from the rooftops. And you would have agreed. But you wouldnât leave this beach until the watch was secured in your hands.
You were on your hands and knees, near shore where the water was gently lapping up at the sand, bringing new things and taking away some whenâ
âY/N ! Is that you ?â
Pennyâs voice from the front of the beach made you jumped.
âJesus Christ, Penny !â You exclaimed, a hand over your racing heart, âyou scared the shit out of me !â
Jogging up lightly to meet her, you saw her frown when she took in the state of you, her worried face illuminated by the Hard Deckâs sign.
âWhat are you doing out there, sweetheart ?â She asked softly, and you could perceive the same tone in her voice sheâd use with Amelia sometimes, no doubt that her maternal instinct were kicking in, seeing you all alone, covered in sand and digging up holes in the dark.
âOh I wasâ I lost my bracelet earlier, you know we had our beach day with the squad ? Yeah, so the bracelet means a lot to me and Iâ I couldnât leave without it.â
You pestered Jake for being emotionally constipated but you couldnât even admit to Penny, of all people, sweetest woman alive whoâd never judge you, that you were doing this solely for him.
âI see,â she said, an empathetic smile pulling at her lips, âIâll help you.â
âNo donât worry Penny, itâs alright, promise. Iâm all good.â
Was there a sick part of you that wanted to be the one to find Jakeâs watch ? Maybe, you would deny all of it thought.
âAt least Iâll wait for you, I just closed the bar.â
âDonât worry,â you repeated with the sweetest smile you could mutter out at the moment, âI wonât stay much longer anyway.â
âYou sure ?â
âI am, thank you though thatâs really nice of you.â
âCould you at least activate your location please ? And also text me when you get home, okay ?â
Saluting her you let out a chuckle, âI will, Penny. Promise.â
âAlright.â She conceded, bregrundly.
She knew this beach was safe, otherwise she would have never left you alone. You parted with a warm hug and watched her drive away, similar to how youâd watched your friends leave a few hours ago now⊠God, had it been really that much time ?
You were beginning to lose hope, Jakeâs watch seemed to have truly vanished, and you tried to ignore the heavy feeling sitting on your chest that came along with this conclusion. Telling yourself to check towards the west side of the beach before leaving, though you knew it was useless, you couldnât really recall Jake going there, you still crouched, and began to dig, againâŠ
Phone flash blasting in the dark, the light reflected on something thenâŠ. Silver !
âOh my god !â
You rubbed your eyes to make sure the sight in front of you was real and not the fatigue making you hallucinate. But it was real, the small silver circle was still there.
âOh my god !â You exclaimed again in a laugh, immediately digging in.
And sure enough, the watch was there. Covered in sand, but there. You carefully inspected it for damage, but other than the general dirt, it seemed fine.
Turning the watch over, your eyes caught something. The initials of who you could only guess was his father were delicately engraved in the metal, G.S. Before you could even think about it, your thumb passed, almost tenderly over the gravure.
A small, disbelieving laugh escaped you again, and it was incredibly chocked up. You didnât even notice youâd been tearing up until you felt something wet roll down your cheeks.
Quickly you wiped the tears off, a feeling of embarrassment creeping up your neck even though you were the sole person standing on this beach, moonlight illuminating your figure.
Forcing your emotions to settle down, it was only a watch for Christâs Sake, you practically ran all the way back to your car. It felt as if your whole body was buzzing, and you couldnât explain this weird feeling of excitement and⊠was it fulfillment ?
A genuine giddiness was coursing through your veins as you drove home, you couldnât wait for Jake to have his watch again. See him settle, knowing his fatherâs legacy was in him, like itâs always been and always would be, but the physical representation of it, back on his wrist. The comforting weight of it bringing meaning to every one of his moves.
The excitement kept you awake once you were home, so you took the time to carefully clean the watch. You physically couldnât give it back to him like that. And soon enough, once you were sure that there was not even the tiniest grain of sand left in any notches, only then, did sleep finally caught up to you.
The sun wasnât even up yet when you made your way to base the next morning. You had decided that you would just leave the watch in his locker, he didnât need to know who found it, and maybe he wouldnât be too happy to see you holding his fatherâs watch, considering you hated each otherâŠ. Right ? At least thatâs what you told yourself.
Arriving in front of his locker, you opened his numbered lock, honestly who was stupid enough to put in their birthday as a password ?
But then, anyone could argue that it was weird you knew his birthday, as someone who hated him so much.
Refusing to give this any more thought, you neatly placed the watch in his locker, on a little rag. You made sure one last time that it was perfectly clean, made sure it was not askew, made the sure the rag wasnât wrinkledâŠ. And for a moment it felt as if you were stalling.
âMy god, I need to get a grip,â you mumbled to yourself, finally closing the locker door, a bit more forcefully than you had intended.
âIâm telling you, my mom is obsessed with getting me in a relationship !â Javy complained to Jake on their way to the locker room, âlast night she just kept showing me pictures of her friendsâ daughters and being like âyou two would make an adorable coupleâ like, oh my god, canât a man go at his own pace ?â
Jake only hummed, not exactly in the mood to discuss Javyâs mom self proclaimed matrimonial agency.
Each of his step was heavy. Heavy with the lack of sleep and the mass pressing down on his chest. The missing weight on his wrist made him feel strangely stripped bare, like a piece of himself was missing, left where he had abandoned it on the beach the night before.
When Jake had gotten home after dropping Javy off, he had cursed himself. He couldnât believe he had actually walked away, without even taking the time to look for the watch, no he had just left.
He had to refrain back tears when his mom had called him that night, asking him about his day, and he hadnât had the courage to tell her what had happened, consumed by sorrow and shame. He felt pathetic. He spent that entire night sulking, thinking about how ashamed his father would be if he saw him like that. It felt like letting him down.
âLike she doesnât get that I donât want to settle down, I mean not yet anywayââ
âYeah, tell her you want to keep bringing girls home from the Hard Deck every weekend for a little while longer, Iâm sure sheâll be thrilled to hear it.â Jake finally answered Javyâs rant, trying to give his remark its usual wit.
âYou fucking jerk, youâre supposed to be on my side !â Javy whined, opening up his locker.
Jake was abort to retort something but the words died on the tip of his tongue when he opened his own locker.
He froze.
He was met with his watch. Neatly placed on a small rag, looking as new as the day he had received it from his dad, just a few days before losing his battle against cancer.
His heart skipped a beat in his chest. How ?
Jake stayed there for what felt like an eternity to him, but was only a few mere seconds, just staring at the watch. He could faintly hear Javy next to him still talking, now rambling about how his mother compared him to his cousin or whatever, but the sound of his voice was drawn out, an echo in Jakeâs ears.
With shaky hands, he gently grabbed the watch and immediately turned it over, eyes fixed on his fatherâs initials that he traced with a tender pass of his thumb, and his heart clenched, suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of emotion.
He had no idea how the watch had gotten there, and perhaps it should have worried him a bit more â whoever this was had cracked the impossible code of his locker for Goodnessâs sake ! â but he chose to pay it no mind.
Now Jake wasnât superstitious or a believer of any kind, far from it, actually. But in this moment, he chose to believe that whatever, whoever had found his watch and brought it back to him, had somehow been missioned by his father, who had probably been very upset about his son being so careless with the precious time teller.
Jake knew it was stupid, truly. His father, from the beyond, somehow orchestrating a whole plan to find the watch left on the beach and leave it in his locker on base, was a stupid theory. But the thought of it made a warmth spread out in his chest and his eyes sting slightly. So he decided that for once, he would let himself believe in a little stupidity.
This weird mix of euphoria and serenity hadnât left him the entire week. He felt good, more confident now that the watch was back on his wrist. And he would sometimes just stare at it for a few moments, in amazement and incredible gratefulness for having been given a second chance, thatâs how he saw it. And he would honor his father in every action he took while securely wearing the watch.
He had found a new vigor, a new desire to win, one that made him better, he thought. Though the squad would probably argue it just made him more insufferable.
So thatâs with a pumped up step that Jake walked into the Hard Deck that week end, closely followed by everyone.
âAlright, what do you guys want ?â He cheered, still in an exceptionally good mood.
The squad all gave him their orders before going to find some seats, you merely grumbled a ânothing that comes from youâ and somehow, Jake understood it meant a virgin mojito.
He made his way to the bar, patiently waiting for Penny to finish off her conversation with a customer.
âHey, sailor !â She greeted with a smile when she saw him, âwhat can I get you and the squad ?â
After he told her, she started to prepare the drinks on front of him, making small talk, asking about training, how life was on base whenâ
âOh by the way,â she seemed to remember, momentarily stopping the making of your virgin mojito to look at Jake, âdo you know if Y/N found her bracelet ?â
Jake frowned, confused.
âUm, I donât know. I didnât know she had lost a bracelet,â he said, head turning slightly to look for you in the crowd and he suddenly frowned more, looking back at Penny, âin fact, I didnât even know she wore bracelets, her wrists are usually bare.â
âOh, because I saw her last week, after your guyâs beach day. I closed the bar a little earlier than usual because it was pretty quiet, and she was there, digging in the sand, looking for her bracelet. I proposed to help her but she said she was fine. It was quite late though, so it really must have mean a lot to her, thatâs why I was wondering if sheâd found it. But Iâll ask her myself later then, thanks Jake.â
Pennyâs words had the effect of a sledgehammer hitting Jake right in the chest. The realisation dawned on him and he froze for a moment, not sure what to do with the newfound piece of information.
âYou okay ?â Penny asked him, his shock seemingly visible on his features.
Her voice got him out of his trance.
âYeah, yeah Iâm good, thank you for the drinks Penny, talk to you later !â
He made a beeline for the spot the squad had settled in, their usual one, next to one the pool tables. He absentmindedly handed the drinks to everyone, keeping your virgin mojito in his hands and making his way over to you. His heart was beating so hard in his chest that it was borderline painful. It seemed as though his vision had zeroed in on you, only you. Images of you on the beach at night, cold, alone, tired but still looking for his watch flashed into his mind and he felt a knot get caught up in his throat.
He barely heard the âthank youâsâ the squad threw him.
Leaning over some of the high tables near the windows, you were watching Mickey, Reuben and Bob engage in a heated game of pool.
âNo Mickey itâs still my turn,â you watched with a smile as Reuben interjected his friend, âyou sinked the cue ball so I get to shoot twice, gosh youâd think that youâd know the rules after playing literally every week end !â
You snorted, amused by their banter. And out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jake walking towards you. Expression unreadable but his step visibly determined.
Arriving in front of you, he practically shoved the drink in your hand.
âI told you I didnât want anything,â you said, monotonously, nonetheless still grabbing the glass.
Any excuse was good enough to start a fight with him.
You turned your gaze back to the pool game unfolding in front of you, but when the quick wit you were expecting from him never came, you turned back to him, frowning.
His jade green eyes were trained on you. Chest rising up quickly, like heâd ran a marathon before coming here. You didnât think you had ever seen him so⊠moved.
âYou good ?â You asked, letting your tone convey the tiniest bit of concern.
Jake took a shaky breath, âwhy didnât you tell me ?â
The hand that was bringing the glass to your lips froze halfway through.
âTell you what ?â
âMy watch.â Was all he said, eyes still boring into yours, seemingly looking for answers you were absolutely not intent on giving.
Your eyes quickly flicked to the leather band sitting proudly on his wrist.
You had noticed it all week, how it was right back on shining on his cuff. How Jake had seemed to smile even more cockily than before, brighter. And you hadnât been able to ignore the weird, warmth feeling spreading in your chest every-time you had caught him eyeing his wrist with a flash of pride and cherish.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â you replied, forcing yourself to keep an annoyed tone as your eyes flicked back up to meet his.
âThereâs no use in lying, I know it was you.â He said, voice firm and steady despite the whirlwind of emotions threatening to choke him up, âwhy ?â
You werenât known to give up that easily.
âJesus Seresin, I literally told you I have no idea what youâre talking about, go win at darts or something, leave me alone.â
Swallowing uncomfortably under his prying gaze, you silenced the tiny voice in your head that was telling you just how much similar to Jake you were in terms of showing feelings.
Facing your stubborn resolve in not telling him the truth, Jake let out a small, humorless laugh, âY/N I just want to thank you properly, so please, for once, just let up.â
Let up. Stop fighting me for a second, was really what he was saying. And looking at him be willing to be honest and open for once did something to you.
âI did it because you looked all pathetic, okay ? And really, I didnât want you sulking all day on base and mess up every training.â you finally conceded, tone annoyed despite the loud thumping of your heart in your chest, âbesides it was just underneath where you had put down your towel, so really you couldâve found it if you had put a bit more effort into it. But I guess that itâs just another thing Iâm better at than you, huh ?â
It was a complete lie. And both of you knew it.
Just the fact that you had been the only one to notice he had lost his watch told him everything he needed to know. And he knew from Penny that you had stayed well past midnight looking for it. To see you in front of him, knowing the length you had been to for him â despite what you were saying â made his heart do something inexplicable.
And Jake moved before he could think any more about it. He slightly bent down to wrap his arms around you, slipping under your own and hugging your middle, bringing you into his chest, chin resting on your shoulder, head touching yours.
All your muscles stiffened on instinct. The contact took you by surprise and you stayed frozen like that for a second, letting him hold you without reciprocating the touch.
He was warm, very warm. His arms were tightly wrapped around you, one draped across your shoulder blades and the other one across your waist. His body was firm against yours and for a moment, you almost thought you could feel the thumping of his heart against your chest. Your head was resting just shy of the crook of his neck, on his shoulder, and despite yourself, you caught a whiff of his smell, residue of jet fuel, his expensive cologne, the warmth of his skin and something so undeniably him it almost made your head spin.
âThank you,â he whispered shakily, a small crack in his Hangman armor.
Those words and his tone felt like a detonator, hearing him sounding so small almost broke your heart. It only took a second after that for your arms to wrap around his neck. And as soon as your arms made contact, you felt his whole body relax and melt into you.
âYou donât have to thank me,â you whispered back, rubbing his back comfortingly.
He seemed so small in this moment and it pulled at your heartstrings to know he was letting you be the one to seem him like that.
âYou donât know how much this means to me.â He murmured into your neck.
Oh, but you did. That was the whole reason you had done it.
It seemed as thought the entire bar had gone quiet, leaving only Jake and you, wrapped up in each other. You had no idea how long you stayed like that. But you certainly werenât complaining, your arms tightening around him was met with the same intensity from Jake.
But the sudden sharp sound of a glass hitting the floor and shattering in pieces took you both out of the peaceful and comfort trance the embrace had took you both in. And you both found yourselves pulling away, reluctantly.
You noticed the slight pink hue dusting Jakeâs cheeks, and his green eyes were bright, almost glassed over, shining with unshed tears.
God knew that if you had the courage you would take him into another embrace right here and then, and not let him go until the first rays of sunshine peaked through the windows, or realistically, probably until Penny kicked you out.
But unable to succumb to your deepest desire, no matter how much you wanted to, you instead fell back into your old ways.
âTry not to lose it again, cause I wonât get it for you next time.â You warned, though your tone was missing its usual bite.
You would.
You would do it all over a hundred times if needed.
Jake let out a laugh, a bit choked up, but a genuine one nonetheless.
âI promise.â He said in a smile as bright as a thousand suns.
And you had a scary realization then.
That in fact, there was not a lot you wouldnât do to see him smile like that again.
author's note : I have had this fic idea for literally forever and Iâm so happy I finally got down to write it.
I really wanted to kinda âdig deepâ into Jakeâs character here, I hope it worked and that I was able to do him justice. Heâs my baby I love him so much.đ
Also quick question, are we sick of Jake and reader being rivals ? Itâs like my favorite trope with Jake and the only one I really see fit with a character like him, and I have so many more ideas but they are all with rival reader and I donât want it to feel redundant for you guys, so tell me what you think !
GUYS OMG LOST AND FOUND HAS REACHED A THOUSAND LIKES !!!!đđđđđđ
Thank you so much, there are no words to say how grateful I am for your guysâ support. Lost and Found is a fic that holds a special place in my heart, and I can confidently say itâs one of my favorites Iâve written, and I am so glad you guys like it as well !đ«¶
Also, THERE ARE 440 OF YOU FOLLOWING ME ??? THANK YOU SOOO MUCH TRULYđđ I feel especially honored considering I havenât been posting my fics on here for very long (only since December !!) so thank you again, it means the world to me, you guys are the best !!
There are so many things Iâm working on right now that I am so excited to share with you guys soon (also dear anons who have sent me asks, I am getting down to answer them donât worry !!), sorry if Iâm not posting as often, my full time job is getting in the way, how annoying.
But fear not, I am still here, with soooo many ideas that I canât wait to write down ! THANK YOU again to each and every one of you, you guys make me so happy !!đđđ«¶đ«¶
OKAY I REALLY NEED YOUR THOUGHTS HERE. Do you think the reader is ever passed around like a blunt throughout the base? Everyone just loves them so much to the point theyâve quit trying to choose one person for them so everyone kinda just gets their own turn? đ§
OKAY GUYS, this is definitely not the kind of freak you are used to seeing on my blog (for my fluff lovers, do not worry weâll be back with some fluff fics soon.) BUT IF YOU ARE INTERESTED, READ AT YOUR OWN RISKâŒïžâŒïžSMUT DOWN BELOW YOU HAVE BEEN WARNEDâŒïžâŒïž
NO BECAUSE THIS IS ACTUALLY MY DREAM ROTATION AND I AM VERY MUCH HAPPY TO SHARE MY VIEWS ON THIS.
Iâm gonna center this around the dagger squad obviously.
Iâm honestly debating about reader either being a sweet mechanic working on base, or having a more administrative job or just being a complete civilian the squad meets at the Hard Deck.
EITHER WAY, Iâd say within the first few months of meeting you and hanging out with you, the squad quickly understands that you are a problem. Not in a bad way, never, but you are just too sweet for your own good.
Always smiling, always kind, always offering to help and eager to make everyoneâs life easier. Not only that, youâre funny too, smart, just an honest joy to be around. So seriously, how could they not fall for you ?
They are always gravitating around you, whether consciously or not, always finding themselves sticking to your side. And thing is ? They are so obvious itâs borderline painful, but obvious to each other you know ??
Like they are all very aware of what each of them feels for you, and how they all probably share the same selfish and perverted thoughts about you.
At first, it definitely starts out as a competition. Every single one of them fighting for your attention, something they truly have grown to crave, quite badly. But it all changes when they notice that you seem equally flustered by all their advances.
Jake is the one who suggests the idea, because of course it is. The rest of the squad calls him disgusting at first, a pervert, how the fuck could he actually think itâs okay to even suggest such a thing ? (Mainly, it comes from a selfish place of not wanting to share you.) BUT WHEN YOU ARE THE ONE ENTHUSIASTICALLY ENCOURAGING THE IDEA ??? Yeah honestly it was all they needed to go through with it.
So, with no other way to say it, you get passed around.
The thing that I love most about this though ? They are all so different from each other that they are bringing you every aspect of sex you could think of ? And each and every one of them unravels you in their very own, devastating way.
Jake brings you heat and passion. That man is basically sex incarnated (sorry I might be biased oupsieee). He brings you the desire and intensity youâve spent most of your life fantasizing about. In bed, heâs all over you, if his mouth isnât worshipping your body with languid kisses, itâs making your brain melt with sheer words (because as I have thoroughly stated before, that manâs whole purpose is dirty talking)
âLook down, baby, see that ? See the way your pussy is taking my cock ? Sheâs doing such a good job,â he coos as his thumb is rubbing away at your clit, âyouâre such a good girl for me sweetheart. None of these idiots can fuck you like I can.â
Sorry, Jake, but they actually can.
Bradley, under his appearance of a gentle giant, he surprises you in bed by being more of a rough giant. Because Bradley has been biting his tongue for months, watching Jake flirt with you endlessly, and when he finally proposes that little arrangement, that bastard just cannot stop ranting about how you moan for him, how much of a good girl you are just for him.
That makes Bradleyâs blood fucking boil. So when he fucks you ? He fucks you like he has something to prove. Prove that he can bring you so much more pleasure than that fucking idiot of Hangman.
Heâs all heavy muscle above you, his hands are under your knees, almost folding you in half. One thing about Bradley is that heâs beefy, okay ? His dick is girthy and it feels like heâs splitting you in half in the best way. Heâs grunting right in your ear as he ruts into you.
âDoes that feel good, sweetheart ? Yeah, thatâs right say my name, say whoâs fucking you this good.â
Bradley is not normally that aggressive in bed, but there is something about you that just makes him go crazy. And when you manage to cry out your response, breathy praises falling from your lips ? It makes his dick and heart swells with something a little bit deeper than lust.
Natasha brings you the thrill of trying new things. Youâve never been with a girl before but you were certainly not opposed to try, especially with a woman as gorgeous as her. On the opposite of Bradley, she has absolutely nothing to prove. Why would she ? When itâs men she is against, sheâs never really worried.
Her hands squeeze your boobs as her pussy circles yours, âhow do you like that, baby ? Feels good ?â
She doesnât actually need an answer, the way your eyes are squeezed shut in sheer pleasure, eyebrows furrowing like trying to make sense of what you are feeling, the absolute death grip you have on her hips and your sweet moans filling out the room along with the sounds of your wet pussies grinding over each other tells her everything she needs to know. She asks because she wants to hear you struggle to get the words out, mumble a pathetic response as she speeds up her movement to put you in even more difficulty. She is a little sadistic around the edges like that.
Mickey brings you the silliness that sometimes sex is all about. I firmly believe (and I do believe it shows in all of my fics where I write squad chaos) that this guy truly cannot be serious for one second in his life. But being able to laugh during such an intimate moment, one you are used to being so serious, surprisingly makes the whole thing so much more enjoyable, it brings a whole new level of intimacy. He never lets you get embarrassed about anything, Mickey just uses it to make you laugh.
Youâre riding him, thighs aching cause you have been going at it quite hard for some time now, heâs panting under you, eyes fixated on the way your pussy swallows his cock so perfectly. The position, along with the movement and the slight change in angle when you come down a bit too harshly allows for some hair to escape⊠and well, make a sound you wouldnât exactly qualify as sexy. You feel yourself flush in embarrassment, but before you can even mutter out an apologyâ
âShit, look at that, sheâs speaking to me,â Mickey breathily marvels out, eyes blown wide in lust, âjust gave me a five star review.â
Any embarassment quickly dissolves as you giggle, âdonât be weird.â Your laugh is quickly replaced by a moan when Mickeyâs thumb finds your clit with ease, working it with the perfect amount of pressure and your walls flutter around him.
âShe is very happy with the serviceââ
âOh my god just shut up,â you laugh again.
âShh, donât you know itâs rude to interrupt, sweet girl ? Let me make it up to herâŠâ his thumb quickens its circles on your clit as he begins to fuck back into you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.
Alright, maybe he could be serious sometimes.
Javy is shockingly intense and precise, quite strangely so but you guess thatâs to be expected of a fighter pilot. All his movements are calculated and work towards one same goal : making you cum as much as possible and unravel for him. He analyses every single one of your reactions and preciously files them away, what motion you like, what pressure⊠The man is basically drawing out an annotated map of your body in his mind.
Javyâs hips never falter or change rhythm as they are steadily thrusting into you from behind, always at the same pace, at the same angle, hitting that perfectly sensitive spot inside of you every. single. time. Youâre an absolute mess under him, elbows almost buckling from how good he is fucking you.
You suddenly feel one of his massive hand on your back, gently pushing you down and forcing you to accentuate your arch. His meaty thighs come in between yours, making you spread your legs in that way he knows you absolutely goes crazy for. Your chest almost touches the mattress now and the spread of your legs opens up your pussy even more, folds pulled apart where his cock is thrusting into you and the skin pulled taut over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Javy drapes himself over your back, one hand snaking down your body to rub at your clit, and the other making its way up to grab a handâs full of your breasts.
âYeah, I know, sweet thing, I know,â he gently coos when you desperately moan out beneath him, âit feels so fucking good, I know, are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me ?â
Needless to say, you did.
Reuben brings you a tenderness you didnât expect of him. He is all slurred words, whispered praise, swallowing your moans in kisses, face inches from yours at all times⊠that man craves intimacy and softness like breathing. It sure is a change of pace from the others, but not an unwelcomed one.
Reubenâs cock is thrusting into at a very lazy pace, not even leaving your pussy, just sensually grinding up along your walls. His face is nudged in the crook of your neck where he is laying on his side, fucking you tenderly while spooning you. One of his hand is holding your hips while the other is over at your front, his fingers framing up your folds where his cock is buried inside of you, feeling up the warmth that radiates off you and the slick that keeps being pushed out.
âYou feel so fucking good, youâre so warm, so soft, I love the way your pussy takes my cock.â He languidly praises in your ear, voice strained by the pleasure.
And he almost cums right here and then when you reciprocate the compliments.
To be honest, you would have expected Reubenâs behavior from Bob, the sweet WSO who has been nothing but kind and gentle to you ever since youâd met him. So it came as a shock when he turned out to be quite assertive. You had expected to be the one taking the reins with someone like him, but a shiver of anticipation shook your spine when he gently pushed you down on his bed for the first time.
Fucking into with the perfect combo of speed and pressure, Bob sounds like a man unraveling but he definitely is not acting like one. His moans and whimpers are all breathy like, most of them very high pitched, but his voice is deep when he asks you if he is fucking to your liking.
Everything is so perfect and you quickly wet your fingers before snaking them down your body, in an intent to relieve some of the tension accumulating in your clit, but Bob stops you short.
âDonât touch yourself until I say so, sweetheart.â
The words alone almost make you cum instantly with your little clit left neglected. (Guys I am purposefully not expending about Bob because I do plan to write a fic kinda of like that for him.)
This little arrangement between all of you works out great for the first few months actually. You are getting your fill in the sexual department, satisfied and glowing like never before because who knew such good and healthy sex could change your life like that ? You are obviously getting adored and worshipped, all is well.
That is until some complains rises about the schedule and some people (all of them) asks for more of your time. (Yes there is a schedule they want to keep it organized and fair.)
Itâs an argument that sees no end and cannot be solved, untilâŠ. Jake (because yes, it really is always him) proposes they just all have you at the same time, that way, no one gets jealous or left out.
âYouâre not seriously offering an orgy right now ?â Natasha asks, incredulous.
Jake scoffs, âoh please, like thatâs actually such an insane idea, weâve literally all been fucking her in turns for month,â he points to you, âwhatâs so different about an orgy ?â
They all seem clearly dubious at first, but when they all subconsciously turn to you, the smile that pulls at your lips tells them everything they need to know and thatâs all it takes to have a fire igniting in their lower stomachs.
More sleepy Jake seresin with plus size reader please?
GUYS MORE JAKE NSFW THOUGHTS UNDER THE CUTđ€
Ohhh sleepy sex with Jake and plus size reader would actually hit so hard !
As established before, sleepy Jake is a whole other kind of Jake, in that state he is just so focused on the pleasure and you. Like he is fucking entranced by your body, how amazing, soft and warm you look beneath him.
Like heâd be gripping you everywhere. Everywhere his hands can reach. Heâs groping, squeezing, knitting your soft flesh and relishing in the way it feels in between his fingers.
âSweetheart, youâre so beautiful, you feel fucking amazingâŠâ
At first in the crook of your neck, he slowly makes his way down, leaving kisses in his trail. His face stops in between your plush breasts, letting out a few pathetic moans into your skin before his mouth latches on to one of your nipples, lazily sucking it. His horny and sleepy brain can barely handle the feeling of touching all of you so softly like this, and it short circuits him a little honestly.
He cums with a whine, mouth still around your nipple while his hands have a death grip on the skin of your hips as he rut himself inside of you, riding his high.
âI love you so much.â
BECAUSE AGAIN, I BELIEVE IN JAKE PROFESSING HIS UNDYING LOVE FOR YOU WHILE SLEEPY AND STILL IN HIS ORGASM DAZE.
