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i have had another bob idea floating in my mind the past week and i need to finally write it. can someone recommend some soft sweet songs to write to?

THIS IS SOOOO GOOD!!

same mistakes masterlist

updated 06/10/23

note: most of these can be read in any order, but to get a good sense of the plot and characters, it’s a good idea to follow the way they’re laid out here as it’s the way they were written to be read.

like father, like daughter masterlist

same mistakes-verse timeline

Keep reading

AHHH THIS IS SO GOOD

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter One - Spilled Coffee

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook.

He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

1.9K

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive slight choking! Forceful sex! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this

Okay so one day I was reading Stiff Competition by @roosterforme and the next day I was writing this and I haven't stopped since

Series Masterlist

Bob Floyd was a coffee man. It had started at the end of high school, when he used to wake up early to study. It continued on when he joined the navy. 

Through his first stint in Top Gun, Bob would go on regular coffee runs. They took it in turns, always going on their own and challenging each other to carry as many coffees as possible.  

It was a habit that Bob had kicked after Top Gun. He knew it was a bad habit, relying on coffee to wake up. So, he stopped.

But then he was once again at Top Gun. After graduating once, he was back again. And, once again, the coffee runs restarted. Bob redeveloped his habit for a cappuccino with chocolate sprinkles on the top. From the first sip, he couldn't remember why he had given it up.

Even after that mission, Bob stayed in California. The man from Montana stayed at Top Gun, becoming an instructor, along with Natasha Trace and Jake Seresin. Rooster returned to Virginia, said he had a girl out there. The rest of the squad returned home or were stationed overseas. It wasn't the easiest to keep up with. 

The coffee runs continued. This time, with just himself, Nat, and Jake, the coffee runs were a lot easier. Especially when the barista put the takeaway cups with one of those cup holders meant for four. 

The coffee runs changed every day. One day Nat would go. And then Jake would. And then Bob. Always one at a time, always in that order. 

Whenever Bob was on the coffee run, he looked around the café. His eyes moved from table to table, looking at the people sat there. An older couple drinking coffees by the large window, a teenager eating a sandwich with headphones covering his eyes and people on their lunch break. One at the back of the café tapped away at her computer keyboard, periodically taking a break to sip at her drink. The other sat at the table by the door, her bag on the other seat as she scribbled away in her notebook, a full mug of coffee beside it. 

Bob didn't make any other observations as he collected his coffee and turned to leave. He had both hands on the cup holder as he turned to leave the café. 

He wasn’t clumsy. Well, he sort of was. Making a mess at the hard deck while ate peanuts, that time he accidentally hit Bradley in the stomach with the pool cue. 

But Bob couldn’t deny his clumsiness when he hit the edge of her table. Maybe if his hands weren’t full, he could have caught her drink before it fell over. 

A gasp left her lips as it spilled over her notebook, staining the pages brown. The writing on it was indistinguishable beneath the coffee. 

But that wasn't what this young woman cared about, not at first. She stood as she furiously wiped off her pencil skirt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He cried, grabbing the napkin that sat under her glass. But the napkin was already soiled. 

Bob jumped into action. He put his coffees down onto her table and rushed to grab the napkin dispenser from the counter. "I'm so sorry!" He cried, grabbing napkins  and helping her to wipe off her skirt. 

But when the water stopped scalding, she stopped wiping at her skirt. Instead she dabbed the napkins at her notebook as a frustrated sigh left her lips. "Let me get you another drink," he said as he threw the used napkins in the bin. 

She shook her head at him. "No, I've got to get back to work," she muttered as she picked up her bag. She slung it over her shoulder and tucked her ruined notebook beneath her arm. 

"I'm sorry!" Bob called as he watched her disappear from the café. 

***

She sat at her desk, inspecting the darker grey patch on her skirt. It had been new, bought just the weekend before. But she didn’t much care about her skirt. That could be replaced. Sure, she'd have to take out money she didn’t have for a new one, but it was just a skirt. 

Her notebook was in front of her computer, months of work stained with coffee. The coffee had smudged her writing, making it unintelligible. It wasn't just the top pages, wasn’t just her most recent piece of writing. It was everything. 

Almost all of her writing was gone. 

Frustration ran through her. Frustration and then sadness. She couldn’t bring herself to be angry at the military man. It hadn't been his fault, really. 

But her writing was gone. It was months, years, of work. Her only way of escape and, within a matter of seconds, it was gone. 

As she sat through her shift, she tried to salvage what she could, making notes of the plot points she could remember. Tomorrow, when she went to the café, she could rebuild. This time she could spend all day there, not needing to run off to her job. 

It wasn’t easy to concentrate on her day job as she wrote down what little she could remember from her stories. But, too soon her day job was over. She still didn’t put her sopping wet, coffee stained notebook in her bag as she got ready to go. "See you Monday," she said to one of her co-worker as she pulled her jacket over her blouse and placed her bag on her shoulder. 

With her notebook on her arm, she took off. She looked down at her shoes as she rode the elevator down to the ground floor of the building she worked in. 

The elevator arrived at the ground floor far too quickly. She sucked in a breath, held her notebook against her chest and walked out of the building. Each step she took was heavy, as if her feet were reluctant to take her home. 

But her apartment building was far too close to her place of work. She opened the door and started up the dimly lit staircase, up to the top floor. Around her the yellow wallpaper was cracked and peeling. 

She missed the step ready to collapse in on itself and avoided the suspicious damp patch on the carpeted top of the stairs and pushed open the door to her apartment. 

"Hey, Ken," she said to her boyfriend, the man she shared her apartment with. Kenneth Johnson hadn't been called Kenneth since he was a boy. He went by Kenny to his friends or more importantly, Ken.

 She placed her notebook on the sofa, her bag on top of it, and hung her jacket on the back of the door. 

"Hey, Barbie," he said in a way she hated. It had been a joke back in high school - his name was Ken so, obviously, she was Barbie. "I cooked you dinner." 

*SERIOUSLY IF YOU'RE AFFECTED BY ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS I'D STOP READING HERE*

She looked at the small, round table in the middle of their kitchen. 'Cooked' wasn’t exactly the word she would have used to describe the half eaten microwave dinner on the table. "Ken, where's the rest of it?" She asked, her voice light. Almost as if she was talking to child. 

The smile dropped from his face as he yanked open the fridge. "Can't you just be grateful, for once?" He growled as he opened his can of something (she didn’t look up, didn't see what he was drinking as she ate what he had left of her dinner). "I make you dinner and you just want more of it."

She ate in silence, finishing her food quickly. When she was done, she cleaned both hers and Ken's plate away. 

As soon as she was standing up and walking to the sink, Ken looked at her up and down. "What the fuck happened to the skirt I just bought for you?" He asked as he clenched his can. His grip was so tight his can crumpled, liquid spilling everywhere. 

"C'mon Ken. It was just a little spill. It's gonna wash out before Monday."

The still full can clattered to the floor, spilling beer everywhere. "It doesn't matter that it will wash out," he said, keeping his voice calm. "What matters is that you're pissing away my hard earned cash!" 

"Ken-"

Suddenly he was in her face, fingers wrapping around her hair and pulling her up. An involuntary cry left her lips and she dropped the dishes back into the sink. "Don't talk back to me," he growled, voice low. His hand snaked around her throat, but he didn't apply pressure. Not yet. "Don't ever talk back to me."

Gulping, she nodded as best she could with the way he held her. And then he let go of her hair, but he didn’t release her neck. "You know I hate doing that, baby," he whispered, stroking her cheek. It didn’t matter how gentle his touch was, it was still searing. 

There was nothing she could do but whimper as he walked her out of the kitchen, leaving the mess of the dishes and the spilt beer.

She walked willingly to the bedroom. But really, how willing is it when you fear so much for your safety?

When Ken told her to strip and get onto the bed, she did just that. "Throw this out, I can’t have you looking like a slob," he said as she stepped out of her skirt. 

"Kenny," she started to say. But, suddenly she was on the bed, laying on her stomach. "Ken, please-"

But Kenneth Johnson wasn't listening to what his girlfriend had to say. He held her body down, hand on the back of her neck as he pulled her underwear down.

He freed himself from his trousers and pushed his cock through her folds. 

There was a time where they weren't like this, a time where they really were in love. Back in high school, back when she didn't mind being Barbie and Ken, he was sweet. He brought flowers and chocolates to her while she worked weekends. He visited her regularly when she went out of state for college and moved with her to San Diego.

It was a few months after they moved to San Diego together that Ken changed. It was a few months after they moved in together that his true colours began showing. 

She didn't cry anymore. There was no point when it didn't get him to stop. 

She laid there until he came and rolled off of her. Kenny laid in the bed and rolled away from her. Still, she didn’t move. She stayed until light snores left his lips. 

Only then did she climb off of the bed. She climbed into the shower that hadn't yet heated up and scrubbed her body. Hidden in an empty tub of body lotion was birth control. Birth control that Kenny wouldn't let her take. But she couldn’t have his baby, she just couldn't.

After cleaning up the mess left in the kitchen and scrubbing at the stain in her shirt, she crawled into bed beside him, but she didn't sleep. 

THIS IS SOOOOO HEARTBREAKINGLY GOOD!!

We're on this together. (Chapter 1)

Bradley Bradshaw × Fem!Wife!Reader

Summary: Nobody warned you for how hard it is to become a mother,same for Bradley.

TW: infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf. Mostly angst.

Tears were streaming down your face,your hands were trembling. Searching for Bradley's number in your contact list has never been this difficult.

Your fingers slid across parts of the screen you didn't want to touch, making your frustration even worse.

The phone line rang at a deafening volume. Once, twice, three times until it goes to voicemail.

His stupid voicemail.

"Hi,its me Bradley. Please drop your message!"

Taking this as a sign, you chose not to try again.

After all, talking to Bradley about it right now would only make him worry for nothing, considering he was busy on deployment and miles away from you. He was about to return this week.

It wasn't something he could solve. Maybe it was but not right now.

Within a few minutes your phone rang. As his name popped up on the screen, a heart emoji next to it and his photo of him grinning stupidly, you felt terrible for doing this to him.

Not only did you let down your own dreams, you were about to let down his too.

You replied, remaining silent. You expected your voice to sound like a lump in your throat.

"Baby, are you there? I couldn't get to the phone in time at first."

You were motionless, your lack of words showed him that. "I'm fine", giving yourself some time, you suddenly started to feel everything you didn't feel until you got home.

"I was at the doctor's today."

"Why are you talking like it's the end of the world? Are you okay?"

Throughout his breathing, it was easy to imagine him even stopping whatever he was doing to pay better attention to you; Not because it wasn't there before. You should have called Penny or someone, they would know how to take care of you.

"Wait, is it about babies? Tell me you're joking," he finished with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You could imagine and hear it perfectly.

In the past, when you received good news, you would pretend that something bad was coming, now it's just another thing you regret doing.

You were selfish for talking to him, he was so far away; You could talk to him about it when he got home.

Talking and doing this and that now would cause him more anxiety than he ever had in his hectic daily tour life. Still, he was the only one you needed.

"No, quite the opposite."

The call suffered a long pause, filled with his deep sighs and persistent tears streaming down his cheeks.

You didn't let a single tear fall until you got home, but did you verbalize it? Putting it into words made things different; it felt more real.

"Fuck," he mumbled, clearly a little out of place.

“I can't have kids, Bradley,” your words were interrupted by the growl you were trying to hold back.

He could tell when you were talking to him that everything hit you at once. Over the years, he was able to recognize even small details.

''I'm the reason we tried and it never worked. I cursed it."

"No, baby," he took a deep breath. "Please don't blame yourself. You know it's not your fault." You ran your fingers desperately through your hair; This is what it must be like to feel useless on the phone. Just what you imagined before you made the call. It was bad to announce this to him. "Are you alone? I can ask someone to check on you. They’ll do that, okay?

“Please,” You didn't want to spend the rest of the day by yourself. Also, even though you didn't want to talk to anyone but Bradley, you knew Penny would understand you better, she knew how to make you feel less bad, it would be nice to be around her. And once she mentioned she went through something like that so maybe she would understand you.

Being alone with your harsh thoughts will not be a good option anyway. "I thought about calling her, but I finally gave up, I didn't know what to do, I still don't. Calling you still doesn't seem like a good idea, but I didn't know what to do."

Your weak voice was killing Bradley. If it made him sad to hear that, he couldn't imagine what it was like for you.

"You did great, baby, this is a tough situation but we're on this journey together. You can ask for anything baby, remember?" He smiled, a muffled smile came over the line; It made you feel a little better.

"We can still have children, you know that."

You wanted to tell him that what works for others may not work for you, that your condition may not be that malleable because your condition is genetic. Still, you didn't know if they were true or not, all your thoughts might just be the result of your momentary frustration, but they might also be true.

You need to talk to Bradley about this, everything that's going on in his mind. You didn't want to do this over the phone anymore.

“We can try,” you sniffled, still avoiding the tears you didn't even know were falling. "We can try." You repeated, trying to convince yourself.

"Talk to me, baby. Try to distract yourself a bit, huh? Please. Do you want me to turn the call off? Maybe you can take a long bath with your favorite bubbles or eat something different. That might help."

Even though it sounded wrong, his desperation to help you was adorable. Talking to him made everything perfect, his voice was soothing, you could hear him talking for hours. Now it was no different.

“I just want to hear your voice,” you said, lying on the cold floor of the main room. It would be nice to sleep. It seemed reasonable to forget the previous hours for a few minutes. "You are busy?"

"Not exactly."

"Then tell me how the mission went."

His voice sounded flatter and softer, you could imagine how uneasy he was even from the phone, it was possible to imagine him striding around the room with the phone in his hand. He talked about the mission details the night before. The contrast of how you described your previous day with what happened at the right moment was painful, happy and suddenly you were breaking it.

Everyone knew that Bradley dreamed of having kids, that kids were running around the house and so were you, you wanted to have kids with him even more but with you he would never have one.

"Can I say something?" You asked, taking a deep breath,cutting through his words. "I love you,I love you so much."

Everything was unfair, you both tried so hard. He, too, had become weak from trying, just like you.

"I love you too, baby. This," you could see him in your mind, pausing and gesturing with his hands, "this won't change anything,okay? I still love you so much as the day i fell in love with you."

"We are on this journey together."

"We are on this journey together.”

—-----

Your body trembled.

A cold hand was wandering around your waist as you slowly opened your eyes, feeling a ridiculous headache fill your vision. Your eyes found Bradley crouched on the ground in front of you, and he looked good compared to you. His eye bags were not purple from the 4 hour sleep he was getting,or his hair wasn't messy after the cold,rainy and windy weather out there.

"What are you doing here?" You frowned. Bradley chuckled as you laid your head down once the headache made you feel like you were going to throw up. He could answer your question but you were flattered, he wouldn't think you noticed he was there because he knew you needed him.

So he ignored it, helping you get up.

"Come on, get up. It's cold on the floor, I'll put you to bed." He tried to get you to stand up for him - he failed; but you shifted your weight onto his body, wrapping your arms around his neck, which he found worriedly cute.

“I need you,” you whispered, drunk and sleepy, burying your face in his coat. Let its scent warm you. He smelled amazing.

It was a relief to hear him say that. He didn't want to get into an argument about how it would affect his job in the near future, as you had fought before for the same reason. "I know my baby." He kissed your hair, hugged your waist, and carried you to your room. “She wants to lay down with me.”

He laid you down on the bed, doing the same as he lay on your side, face up and facing the white ceiling.

They both knew it was necessary to speak, but neither knew who should speak first or what they should speak about.

You ran your fingers over his stomach, placing your palm under his shirt, warming his cold hand with your body. You moved closer to his body, nestling into his side as he wrapped his arm around you.

"Tell me, what's on your mind?" He said without looking directly at you.

"There's a lot", your mere words made his throat dry. “It's weird knowing your body can't do what it's supposed to do, especially when you want it to,” you gasped through sobs, his grip pulling you closer to his chest for comfort. "I'm afraid you'll stay with me and a few years from now you'll realize you made the wrong choice." These words hurt him. It hurt him so much to see you blaming yourself.

He hugged you even tighter and asked you to look at him. "I'm not going to leave you, okay? I'm in love with you. That won't change, and it's not your fault. We can try IVF as if it will work, and it's worked for a few people, and we'll have a happy and healthy baby. We have the money for it. If the money I make as a pilot isn't enough, i can even find a part-time job. I can enter just for you, I'm married to you and I love you so much, why should I leave you?"

There were tears in your eyes and you hoped he was right. "What if it doesn't work? If my body miscarries? If we try and never succeed? I don't know if I'm ready to try again-"

Before you finished your sentence, he grabbed your cheek and gave you a messy kiss. He was far from okay, he was desperate, you didn't know how to decipher whether he was trying to silence you or show his emotions. The salty taste of your tears accompanied by the burning in his throat didn't help at all.

You put your hand on his chest and stop him. He was in distress, he probably wanted to stop you with a waterfall of negative thoughts but he didn't know how.

“I don't want to try, I just don't know what to do yet, and it's killing me right now.” You were complaining.

He kissed your forehead and let you lie down.

"We will find a way. It's still new, we can think better or find other ways. Adoption is also a good option, but of course if everything happens at the right time."

You stayed silent for a while, imagining a parallel where Bradley was right and things worked out. Although you were still not convinced by this, you agreed with him. After all, there would be no other way, and you still wanted to have children.

“Adoption sounds good,” you mumbled against his chest. You hadn't thought about it yet, it hadn't even crossed your mind. “There is no risk and there is no way we can go wrong.”

You felt relieved that he was there for you, guiding you to feel better about this.

"You see?" he asked with what looked like a weak smile. "We'll find a way because I don't plan on having kids with anyone but you, so it has to be with you. Whether you like it or not." He joked, drawing a smile from you as he touched your nose with a wet kiss.

It was incredible how he managed to make even the most difficult moments seem lighter.

"Good, because I still want to have your stupid kids.”

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @sorchathered @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @bradshawssugarbaby @torchflies @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @bradshawsbaby @hardballoonlove @perfectprettypisces @topguncortez @hangmanapologist @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @promisingyounglady @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @promisingyounglady @lewmagoo and if you are not comfortable please tell me!!

REBLOGS,LIKES AND COMMENTS ARE HIGLY APPERICATED🤍🤍🤍

Royal au

Prince Hangman and Prince rooster from opposing kingdom but i have no motivation to do anything about it :)

𝓓𝓪𝔂 5 - An Aggressive Gentleness || Jake “Hangman” Seresin x fem!reader

Masterlist

Summary: Everyone knows Hangman is good, but you'll have a chance to discover that he simultaneously has a bit of a persuasive streak as well.

Warnings: smut (unprotected p in v, spanking)

Word count: 2325

Author: Rouge

A/N: the the prompt for today is: Spanking

Jake "Hangman" Seresin was one of the world's greatest and most successful pilots. He was a known womanizer, and he had as many downed planes as broken hearts among all the women he dated.

Yet, ever since you joined his team, he couldn't take his gaze away from you; you were not only a beautiful, young woman, but you also had a strong personality.

"I know there's a big age gap between you and me, Y/N," he said as the two of you finished the bottle of red wine that night, sitting together on the pier over the ocean. "But I really want to take you out. Would you be interested in having dinner with me one evening?" 

As a result, you both agreed to meet for dinner a few days later.

Despite your expectations, the dinner ended up being much more enjoyable than you expected. It sounded too good to be true. You teased, playing with your glass, "Maybe Hangman isn't such an asshole as everyone thinks."

You could feel his knee against yours under the table as you sat there staring and smiling at each other, your hand in his.

Of course, it could have been an accident at first, but when it returned, went away, and then returned again, all doubt was removed. It was done on purpose as a signal, a kind of request, to emphasize the request for a date. Again, perhaps a little old-fashioned, but extremely intimate and alluring.

Jake let out a little sigh, observing your face carefully as he said, "Don't judge a book by its cover."

"If I didn't interact with you on a daily basis and while on duty, I'd say you're an asshole," you concluded, scrunching your face. "You are charming, but you are a total asshole. However, I don't regret our dinner together."

Jake was certain he knew the game because he'd played it before; he was obviously used to dealing with stroppy little bitches like you. He was well aware of what you were doing and what you were up to. He seemed to be able to read you, understand what you were thinking.

He kept gently rubbing your palm and pressing his knee firmly against yours as he looked you in the eyes. "You have the most enticing eyes, Y/N," he murmured as he gazed deep into them.

A cocky smile spread across your face as you made a small yhym sound and rested your chin on your palm. "Just like the last girl, I'm sure." 

Since it wasn't the first time you heard those sweet words, you already knew what they meant. This was a popular saying among guys as if it were a kind of spell.

"I can see through your eyes that you are a passionate, intense woman. A woman who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. I notice a lot about you." As he accelerated, his foot landed on yours and ran up the side of your calf. You were his type, there was no doubt. This became especially apparent when his knee pressed firmly against your closed knees at first, then even more so after a moment or two.

You sighed heavily and decided to stop him. "I have to be honest with you - sweet nothings don't appeal to me at all. I've heard these things too many times to believe them."

Jake drew your hand to his lips. "Come to my flat, Y/N, and let me love you there," he said as he licked the back of your hand and looked you in the eyes.

“If you stop acting so weirdly sweet, I'll go with you."

Jake gave you a brief nod in response.

You took a cab to his apartment. It was a second-floor walk-up flat in a fairly large town house, nicely furnished in that fading elegant style that appeals to the well-to-do and aristocracy.

Hangman turned on one lamp but not the others. The street lights cast a nice, dim, romantic glow on the large lounge. He made no pretense that this was anything other than a sexual encounter. He didn't make small talk, offer you a drink, or request that you sit. None of that was necessary; he and you both knew it. You were there for one and only one reason - to have sex.

As Jake kissed you passionately, he took you in his arms. There was no preamble or asking permission; it was a wonderful kiss. As he held you tight, he moulded your bodies together and his lips found yours. While your lips touched, your mouths were closed, but as you pressed them together they slowly opened. As he licked your lips, he ran his tongue along your gums, over your teeth and into your mouth. Unlike the Hangman everyone used to know, he was patient, slow, methodical, and amazingly erotic. You could feel Hangman's hands running up and down your back.His hands fiddled with your bra strap, the waistband of your short denim skirt, which was just a whisker below your pubis line and the top of your bum crease, and the hem of the white, loose, short-sleeved top. 

Jake took your hand and led you to his bedroom.

The room was quite small, but it had a double bed. Although it was dim, you could still see each other. Standing beside the bed, Jake held your hand as you faced each other. Bringing your palm up to his mouth, he kissed its top; he took one of your fingers and softly sucked it, earning a moan from you.

You didn't speak, you'd gone beyond words, they simply weren't needed.

It wasn't long before Jake let go of your hand and stepped back a few feet. With his eyes glistening in the dim light flowing in the room from a streetlamp, he began undoing the button of his heavy, cotton, khaki shirt. Having fully undone his shirt, his fingers were now undoing his leather pleated belt. He was so confident and so assured, which you found very sexy and enchanting. Still, he didn't take his eyes off of you. “You’re so fucking pretty, Y/N.”

Reaching downwards, you grasped the hem of your top. You saw approval in his eyes as his belt came undone and he slowly pushed his zip down. Between the opened edges of his shirt, you could see that his chest was toned and muscular.

You both dropped your tops as if on cue. Jake's eyes wandered over your chest, focusing more and more on your round breasts, almost making you squirm with desire. Through Jake's masterful gaze, you became more receptive to his unspoken persuasions.

The silence was broken by Jake. His erection was evident and clear and gave him absolutely no embarrassment whatsoever. As you dropped your bra, he sighed, "You're so fucking hot, Y/N. What are you waiting for? Go on."

Undoing the brass button on the skirt, you slid the short zip down. The skirt slid down your legs as you wriggled it over your bum and hips. A surge of high-octane arousal surged through you when you looked into Hangman's hungry eyes. You soon pushed your panties down your legs as well.

As Jake took off his boxer shorts, his hardened erection rested proudly against his well-built abdomen.

Seresin reached for your hand, the one holding your panties, as you stood completely naked in front of him. He gently pulled them away from you. His eyes bore deep into yours as he rubbed his nose on the gusset, taking deep breaths as he did so, making animalistic noises at the same time. After that, he used your panties in a rather extravagant manner, rubbing them around his balls and up and down his erection without any embarrassment at all. As if to say don't you dare complain, he stared intently into your eyes before cupping his balls in your panties and rolling them around before pushing the silky underwear back across his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him, pressing himself against you, moulding your bodies into one. As he cupped your round bum in his strong hands, his cock squirmed against you. Jake squeezed and kneaded your buttocks all the while kissing you hungrily; he stroked your bum, pinched it, rubbed it, and caressed it.

As you got your hand between your bodies, your fingers tingled with desire as they ran up and down his erection. It was everything an erection should be; hard, warm, smooth and slightly throbbing. 

You then went to bed.

Jake carefully positioned you on your front and laid beside you. The hand that wasn't tugging your hair had slipped down your back and reached your bum. He stroked it and squeezed it. Jake whispered, "You have the most glorious arse I've ever seen," as he stroked it softly. All he had done when you were standing beside the bed was repeated, but he now focused more on your cheeks. After easing your legs apart, he parted your bottom's cheeks. He spent ages running his fingers up and down that sensual groove, on, over and past your extra sensitive entrance to your anus, on the base of your spine in one direction and into your fully soaked pussy in the other.

All hell broke loose within your body and mind. You could not help but notice as your body shook with the various sensations that you were cumming without any form of penetration, without your sensitive clit being rubbed or your pussy's lips being stroked. “Jake!” You managed to whimper loudly, nuzzling your face into one of his pillows.

Jake smacked your bottom several times. Not that hard and not that much, but enough to make your bum sting and for you to recognise what he was doing. Nevertheless, the combination of the pain from him pulling your hair, the stinging from where he'd spanked your bottom and the pleasure he was giving you with his fingers made you cum, very heavily indeed.

You hadn't even finished your orgasm fully when Hangman turned you over. After what he'd just done to you, your pussy was still tender, and your breasts and nipples were still pulsating. As he moved up and held his cock against your lips, you willingly opened your arms and wrapped them around his hips. 

The moment he bucked his hips, forcing his dick completely into your mouth, you wrapped your lips around his rock-hard erection, gagging yourself.

Jake's hand hit your bottom quite hard, so much so that it jerked your head from his cock as Hangman turned you to your side a little, to gain better access to your bum. In a matter of seconds, he hit you twice. 

Putting his cock back in your mouth, you grunted. Each thwack and smack was probably harder than the last. He spread them over both cheeks. Pumping his girth in and out of your mouth, you gagged, reaching out to massage his balls.

Jake grunted lowly as he hardened. Seresin hit you several more times after he realized you weren't opposed to what he had been doing. Now he was doing it harder, and it was stinging, but not too painful. It was amazing to see that each time he smacked your ass, and since he'd found a sort of rhythm, his cock began to jerk inside your mouth. His hardening and growth increased with each smack. “Fuck, look what you’re doing to me,” he grunted, taking a fistful of Y/H/C hair, tugging on it a little. He was now spanking you with a steady series of blows that covered every inch of each cheek and occasionally drifted down to your thighs. Between each blow, his hand gently fondled your asscheek. 

With that gentleness combined with the aggression of the spanking, you experienced sensations you hadn't felt before. While Hangman grunted and groaned and mumbled how wonderful you were and what a magnificent bottom you had, you sighed and moaned at the pleasure you were receiving, taking his cock out of your mouth with a loud pop sound.

Jake then fucked you. Straightforward, you on your back, him on top, your legs wide open and wrapped around him. Jake’s thrusts were fast and strong; his bed was swinging with each of them. It was quite quick and hard. Like the expert he was turning out to be, he didn't offer or ask for more foreplay. After what Jake had gone on so far there was no need for more and he seemed to be acutely aware of that. He didn't need to get you wet and you didn't need to get him hard, what you'd been doing for the past half hour or so had done both of those necessities. 

“Fuck!” You screamed, digging your nails into his back, rolling your head back on his pillow. “Fuck you, Hangman! You’re so fucking good!”

“I’m good, Y/N,” Jake grunted into your ear, instantly turning his head to suck hardly on your exposed neck. “I’m very fucking good.” You were obviously soaked and your lips were bloated from the blood that rushed to them during the previous orgasms. No complaints, just a straightforward hard and fast fuck and that, to be honest, was what you truly wanted. 

After cumming together, Jake laid on top of you, pinning you to the mattress with his weight, then rubbed your cheeks and neck with his kisses. “Do you want to stay for the night?” He asked simply, rubbing his nose against yours.

Nodding to him, you slipped your hands into his hair and massaged his scalp. "Yes."

Despite his nakedness, Jake kissed you one last time before getting up from the bed. "I'll bring a pillow and towel for you."

As his thick, sticky cum ran down your inner thighs, you rubbed them together and bit your lower lip. You definitely had the best fuck of your life.