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#jake hangman seresin
diadotcom · 2 days
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when the cowboys are gay fighter pilots…. or when the fighter pilots are gay cowboys…? they are gay and fighter pilots and also cowboys
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bradshawssugarbaby · 2 days
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Got My Mind Set On You - Jake Seresin x Reader
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A/N: I know I said fluff, but somehow I got to spicy stuff instead. Oops.
pairing: Jake Seresin x reader
content/warnings: suggested smut.
word count: 1.7k
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Jake Seresin leaned casually against the rustic exposed wooden beam of the dimly lit bar, his gaze fixed on you as you shared a moment of laughter with your friends across the room. With the air of someone who knew they were being watched, he flicked another dart effortlessly towards the board, the satisfying thud of it hitting the bullseye punctuating the room. He took a slow sip of his beer, the corner of his lips curling into a self-assured smirk as his friends marveled at his accuracy.
Javy couldn't help but prod at Jake's seemingly supernatural dart-throwing abilities. "How do you do it, man? You never even look at the board."
Jake chuckled, tapping the side of his temple with his index finger. "Photographic memory, my friend. I've got every angle mapped out up here," he said with a grin, never once breaking his gaze from you.
Bradley, ever the skeptic, scoffed from the sidelines. "Oh, please. Anyone can get lucky tossing darts at a board."
A challenge hung heavy in the air as Jake raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Care to put that theory to the test, Bradshaw?"
Bradley, never one to back down, accepted with a lazy smirk. "Fine. But don't blame me if your girl decides she wants a more skilled pilot."
"Bring it on," Jake replied, his confidence unwavering.
With practiced ease, Bradley sent his first dart flying, hitting the bullseye just as he predicted. Jake's expression remained cool, but there was a flicker of admiration in his eyes as Bradley repeated the feat with his second shot. Bullseye again.
Jake's smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, raising his pint glass towards the dartboard. "You can't do it a third time."
Bradley's competitive spirit flared as he confidently launched his final dart, only to miss the mark by a fraction of an inch. He turned to Jake, a hint of defiance in his eyes as he admitted defeat.
Jake couldn't resist a playful jab. "Not quite perfect, Bradley."
But any teasing was forgotten as you appeared beside him, your touch warm on his shoulder. "Hey there, sugar," Jake greeted you with a smile. "See me get a perfect streak?" Jake purposefully drawled out the word ‘perfect’, resulting in a dramatic eyeroll from Bradley. 
Jake's smile softened as he wrapped an arm around you, his gaze never straying far from yours. You grinned as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, nodding your head as you spoke. “Sure did, honey. You did great!”, you gushed.
“I am great, darlin’, you know that.”
Bradley groaned and rolled his eyes before downing the rest of his beer. With an exaggerated sigh, he shook his head, holding his empty glass up to you and the others before speaking.
“Anyone down for another round? I’ll buy.”
You chuckled at Bradley's offer, exchanging knowing glances with Jake before nodding in agreement. "I could go for another," you said with a grin, feeling Jake's arm tighten slightly around your waist.
“Sure, thanks man,” Jake started, handing Bradley his empty glass, “After, why don’t we rematch? We can switch to the pool table, if you guys would rather, that way you might actually have a chance at beating me.”
Bradley scoffed and shook his head. “Fine, you’re on.”
Javy, always up for a good time, eagerly agreed. "I'm in. Let's see if lightning strikes twice for old Bradshaw here."
Bradley shot Javy a mock glare before laughing, his competitive streak undeterred. "We'll see about that," he retorted, already heading towards the bar to order everyone’s drinks.
As Bradley disappeared into the crowd, you leaned into Jake's side, relishing in the warmth of his presence. The soft buzz of conversation and clinking glasses enveloped you, creating a comforting backdrop to the evening.
"You know, I think Bradley's just jealous," you whispered teasingly, tilting your head up to meet Jake's gaze.
Jake chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you. "Can you blame him?" he replied, his voice low and playful. "After all, he's got to compete with the best."
You rolled your eyes affectionately, swatting his chest playfully. "Smooth talker," you teased, but couldn't hide the smile that tugged at your lips.
“Besides all that, I’ve got the best girl, so really, poor Bradley didn’t stand a chance, did he?” Jake whispered as he leaned into your ear, his green eyes fixed on yours as he planted a soft kiss on your lips. 
“The best girl, huh?” You mused, raising an eyebrow, “That’s a new one for me.”
“Mhmm,” Jake hummed as he gave you a playful tap on the nose with his index finger. “You better get used to it, honey.”
As you all rounded the pool table, gathering into your teams, Bradley furrowed his brow as he gestured to you and Jake as Jake kept you close to him for his team.
“Oh no you don’t loverboy.” Bradley chided, shaking his head, “She’s on my team. Together you two’ll just end up getting handsy on the pool table and make us all lose our lunch.”
“He’s got a point there, don’t he?” Jake shrugged as he conceded, letting go of his protective, loving grip on your waist.
You watched as Bradley lined up to take his shot. Observing his form carefully, you tried to make mental notes so you could match his game - you weren’t the greatest at pool, Jake usually used teaching you as an excuse to put his hands all over you, not that you complained. It just resulted in some incredibly short lessons in pool, and some playful sessions in the bed of his Ford F-150. 
Bradley leaned in close to your ear, whispering softly as he came up with a game strategy. “How well can you accidentally distract Jake?”
“Oh, easy,” you responded with confidence, nodding your head slightly as your gaze fixated on Jake, who was lining his pool cue up for his turn.
“Perfect, do your thing.”
You sipped your cocktail and fiddled with the straw, your lips encircling the tip in a way that you knew Jake would interpret as suggestive. Sure enough, as soon as Jake looked up at you, sea-green eyes locked in a gaze at your mouth as it played with the end of your straw, he missed his shot, causing the cue ball to bounce off the edge of the table, not striking anything in its path. Jake straightened his posture, raising an eyebrow at you as you set your glass down to take your own shot. Bradley smirked from behind his beer bottle, admiring your technique for riling Jake up better than any amount of trash talk ever could.
During Jake’s next turn, you shoved your glass into Bradley’s open hand, before fiddling and unbuttoning the top two buttons of your plaid shirt, exposing just enough cleavage to have Jake’s mind wandering. Once again, as soon as Jake caught a glimpse of you, he missed his shot, shaking his head and grumbling to himself as Javy joked about him being off his game.
“I’m not off my game. Everyone has one off game.”
“Just admit it, Jake, you’re not as good at pool as they are. Bradley’s got you beat.”
Jake scoffed and rolled his eyes again, before leaning over to take his next shot, trying to follow up after you sink one of the balls into the pocket, eliciting a high-five and a cheer from Bradley. As the game progressed, Jake caught on to your little game. His cheeks blushed when you whispered what you wanted him to do to you later that evening, he had to clear his throat to cover the involuntary moan that threatened to escape his mouth when your hand caressed his bicep, and he had to position himself carefully behind the pool table while he tried to focus his mind on anything other than the mental image you put in his head when you described what kind of underwear you were wearing under your skirt. 
After losing another round, Jake felt a simmering frustration bubbling beneath his skin, an insistent urge gnawing at him with every passing moment. He clenched his jaw, struggling to rein in the primal desires coursing through him. All he could think about was laying you down on the smooth surface of the pool table, indulging in the raw passion that pulsed between you. But he knew he couldn't act on those impulses, not here, not now.
Instead, he tossed the pool cue down with an uncharacteristic huff, the weight of his competitive nature hanging heavy in the air. His typically composed demeanor faltered, a rare glimpse of vulnerability flickering in his eyes as he turned away. You exchanged a knowing glance with Bradley, silently acknowledging the tension that hung between you all, before following Jake's retreating figure outside.
The night air enveloped you like a thick blanket as you stepped out of the dimly lit bar, the humidity clinging to your skin like a second layer. Concern etched across your features, you approached Jake cautiously, your footsteps echoing in the quiet night.
"Jake?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as you closed the distance between you.
"Mhmm?" His response was gruff, his body tense as he leaned against the side of his truck, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt.
"Are you alright?" you asked softly, furrowing your brow with worry. "I wasn’t trying to be a dick—Bradley and I just thought it’d be funny if I, you know, distracted you a little."
Jake chuckled, a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes as he turned to face you. "I'm not mad."
"You aren’t?" Relief flooded through you, easing the tension in your shoulders.
"Of course not," he reassured you, his gaze softening as he reached out to pull you into his embrace. "I mean, you got me good, I’ll give you that."
"I did?" A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, grateful for his understanding.
"Sure did, Sugar." Jake's smirk was equal parts wicked and enticing, sending a shiver down your spine.
"But now it’s my turn to get you back." His words hung in the air like a promise, igniting a fire in your veins as you met his gaze with a playful challenge of your own.
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heart0fclay · 2 days
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glen powell the man you are
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sunlightmurdock · 2 days
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The Odyssey | 1.4 | Bradley Bradshaw
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Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist | Moodboard
In the middle of nowhere with no power, the world you knew back home feels further away than ever.
Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), swearing, infidelity, nudity, mentions of erections, making out.
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“Mm, che pioverá.” Teodora had sighed, early that morning, while sitting at the breakfast table with Bradley and Pasquale, her son, and her daughter-in-law surrounding her. The three of them had paused eating to look up at the beaming sun, the still trees and the cloudless sky.
Sweat was already beading at the back of Bradley’s neck as he chewed at a mouthful of scrambled eggs.
Sandro had brushed her off with a simple shake of his head and an affectionate eye roll. Bradley had flashed an amused smile between the two of them and swallowed down his bite. Pasquale had hummed a thoughtful, but not necessarily agreeing sound.
The three of them already had plans for the day to drive out and take a look at the spinitrae at the university an hour away, after Bradley’s morning run, Pasquale’s phone call home and Sandro’s morning swim.
As usual around here, Teodora was right.
You’re woken by the first rumble of thunder. Face down, your arms wrapped securely around the pillow, Bradley’s blue shirt wrapped securely around your body. Only thirty minutes after the two of them had so briskly dismissed the old woman’s claims.
Already since then, the landscape has transformed. The skies are thick with dark clouds and the wind whips at the trees, knocking fruit to the ground with ease.
With Bradley supposedly gone for the day, you had figured that things around here would be a bit of a free for all. Zoe had suggested digging through the Gabris’ VHS collection in search of a movie in English while you go through pages of Ovid. Nothing to get up particularly early for.
The thunder makes you lift your head and frown a bit. It’s not like you have been really keeping up with the weather forecast, but yesterday’s clear skies hadn’t exactly alerted you to an oncoming storm. It’s barely rained at all since you got here.
Stretching your legs across cool sheets, you sigh and roll onto your back. It’s not cold, per se, but once you’ve strayed from the warmth of your sleeping position your skin starts to prickle with chill.
Your engagement ring stares back at you from its discarded spot on the dresser by the window. This place isn’t like a hotel, Malcolm wouldn’t have a clue which numbers to punch to reach you all the way out here. He wouldn’t even know which province you’re in. You might as well be on a different planet.
It kind of feels like you are.
The point of closing the window is what drives you out of bed first of all. You pad along the floor and turn to the window, all blackened skies and pouring rain for miles around.
Then, a figure by the trees catches your eye. Broad shoulders, tanned skin, that defined line running down the middle of his chest — you recognise him right away.
Bradley is soaked from the rain, wearing a pair of blue running shorts. Caught in the middle of the downpour, he jogs back along the path as rain beats down his back.
Your fingertips push back the edge of the curtain as your shoulder leans up against the window frame. The Gabris estate really is beautiful, miles of stretching, rolling fields and hills with dustings of green forests at its edge..
Those blue shorts sit low on his waist and they’re still exposing so much of his long, muscled legs. His chest is wet, and that cross necklace of his bounces against his collarbones with each footfall.
Maybe he feels the eyes on him, or maybe he catches you in his peripheral — either way, his gaze flickers up to the window and he catches sight of you. Catches you smiling at him.
Through the rain-splattered window pane, he spots his shirt wrapped around your shoulders, just a few of the buttons fastened. Your skin peeking through the gaps between the open buttons. Even with his run cut short, his mouth grows dry all of a sudden.
He lifts a soaked palm and cards it through his hair as he slows to a stop, attempting to tame his drenched curls. From outside, it’s hard to really tell what he’s thinking when he looks at you, especially under the cover of the rain.
You lift your hand from your side and wave your fingers at him.
The rest of the group might be up, they might not. Not a single one of them would know yet that Bradley’s trip to the university has been canceled, they wouldn’t be looking for him. Not in your room, especially.
He stands there for a second and lets himself fall into the fantasy. Walking up those stairs and clicking that heavy wooden door shut behind him. Working open the buttons on that shirt, coming to realize that you aren’t wearing anything under it.
You’re driving him crazy, and he savors every second of it. He can’t stand and stare for too long, he can already feel all of his attention rushing south. He swallows. Then, he presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek and blinks the rain from his eyes, shaking his head.
You take your bottom lip between your teeth and tug at it and shit— that really doesn’t help his problem at all. His mouth ghosts at a smile as he reminds himself to move.
His attention is back on the path ahead as he resumes his jog back to the house. Thunder rumbles in the air.
You’re free to resume your staring. You wonder if he’s even wearing underwear under those tiny shorts— doesn’t look like it.
The thought makes your cheeks hot. His perpetually warm hands soothing your chilled thighs, brushing so coolly under the cotton of his shirt, reclaiming it as he unfastens the buttons, and your mouth on his chest, the salt from his skin— his shoes on the stairs snap you out of it.
The villa is old and the stairs creak at every opportunity. He’s skipping steps, his long strides make that easy and you hear him pause at the top. His room is to the right. Yours is just a bit to the left. You swallow, holding your breath to listen out.
His footsteps fall to the right. One, two, three steps and you hear his door open and close. A dejected sigh pushes past your lips as you lean back into the wall.
He’s wet, and probably sweaty from his run. He always showers before everyone else, too. Your towel is hanging on the hook behind the door. You cross the room briskly and grab it on the way out, crossing into the hallway as he steps back out of his room, also holding his towel.
You’re two steps closer to the bathroom than he is. His eyes flicker down to your bare legs, then at his shirt hanging partially open across your chest. Finally, he meets your gaze and smiles a bit.
“Morning.”
“Morning.” You copy back, turning on your heel and crossing the hall to the bathroom. He watches your hand settle on the door knob. He catches the purposeful way you glance back at him over your shoulder, and catches on.
He thought about going into your room. He really did. With everything you have learned in the past few days, he has been trying to give you space — he figured the last thing you would want would be him getting handsy.
With the way you’re looking at him now, he’s not so sure.
He checks the hallway. Still empty. With Sandro out swimming, Pasquale yapping away in the kitchen, and Dorie painting out in the sun room, it’s like you’re alone.
He starts towards you, slowly.
“I like your shirt.”
You glance downward. This was bold. It wasn’t exactly well thought-out, rushing into the hallway barely dressed. He’s still barely dressed. His hair and his skin are still wet from the rain. He still looks warm.
“Thanks.” You answer him softly, as he comes to stand before you. He reaches out and finds your skin with his fingertips, gently stroking a pattern against your thigh.
“You about to shower?” Bradley asks you, close enough that his stomach is just about brushing yours. Your mouth is dry, and you forgot to close the window when you got out of bed. You shiver. Finally, when you remember you’ve been asked a question, you nod at him.
He hums, “Weird. Me too.”
Your eyes widen, somewhere between shock and excitement. Then, there’s a sudden cold feeling in the pit of your stomach. It’s like a physical force pushing you back. Your mother, maybe, trying to push you in the right direction from across the Atlantic.
He’s not sure what’s gotten into him, or more pressingly, what’s gotten into you. He had given you his shirt as a kind gesture, and here you are, using it against him in such a cruel, cruel way.
As his mind crosses over into the territory of saying fuck it and suggesting that he take you right here in the hallway, your gaze meets his firmly and your fingers twist the doorknob.
He swallows, feeling the nylon of his shorts grow tighter at the semblance of an invitation. The bathroom door creeps open, and you glance towards it.
He shouldn’t. Your head is all over the place. Keeping his hands to himself is the right move.
“Ladies first, I’ll wait.” He tells you, shooting you a quick wink.
That’s a no. It’s a kind way of saying no, but it’s a no nonetheless. He doesn’t want to. A quick glance downward proves to you that he's half hard in those running shorts.
“No need.” You whisper, hoping to god that was the right thing to say. The two of you can’t possibly keep whispering out in the hallway, half dressed like this. He doesn’t answer, he just blinks at you.
You swallow a breath and hold it, stepping past him and into the bathroom. The door remains loudly open behind you, like it’s a car-alarm going off right in Bradley’s ear, actually.
He inhales and steps inside, shutting the door behind him. The alarm stops.
“Stop. Look at me,” Somehow now, he feels the need to be quieter than before, and not just because this old bathroom echoes. You fidget, bare feet on cold tile as you stand before him. His brows knit together a bit. “Are you sure about this?”
You purse your lips for a moment and look down at yourself. Honesty is the best policy. You just have to figure out why you’re here yourself.
“It’s just showering.” You say it confidently, like you aren’t even trying to convince yourself. It surprises him. “Doesn’t have to be… sexual. It’s just two people in the shower. Together.”
“Right. Naked.” He reminds you.
“Right.” You copy back, hoping you sound more certain than you feel.
“And you’re cool with that?” He checks. The way he raises his eyebrows tells you that he expects you not to be. In the same breath, you catch the way his eyes flicker to the shower head behind the two of you.
You, him. Naked. You have toed that line before. It wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t bad at all actually, it was incredible.
“Yeah.” Your sudden why-wouldn’t-it-be attitude has Bradley prickling with suspicion about your motives this morning, and the morality in being in here with you when he’s certain that your head isn’t quite clear about what happened with your fiancé.
But, he reaches to his right, and bolts the lock across the door. His eyes study your face, and his fingers linger for a moment against the brass. Upholding your unspoken role in this, you twist away from him and turn on the water.
So, we’re doing this. Bradley holds onto that breath, not quite ready to let the thought pass or the exhale follow, as he drops his towel to rest against the sink basin.
You’re bent at the waist, calculating the measure of hot and cold water between the two taps, and Bradley is met with an unobstructed view of your legs. In the vein of following your impulses this morning, he considers sinking to his knees and letting his mouth greet them — but he doesn’t. He half considers tucking his hands behind his back just to remove the temptation at all.
He thinks back to that movie he saw last November, with Anthony Michael Hall and the other kids. In particular, the shower scene where too inept teenage boys stand awkwardly in the back of a shower cubicle, not knowing what to do with their hands, while a beautiful woman showers in front of them.
And then you turn to look at him again.
“You first.”
“Me…? — right,” Clothes. You’re talking about clothes. With his running shoes, he probably has more articles of clothing on than you do. Depends if you’re wearing underwear, he guesses. He isn’t. He kicks off the shoes and goes for his socks next, warm condensation starts to permeate the space between the two of you. Strange, this room feels awfully cramped already, he doesn’t know where the steam finds the space to join. “You just going to stand and watch?”
With his socks gone, he only has one article of clothing left. He hooks a thumb into the waistband of those blue nylon shorts and pushes just an inch, revealing a soft tan line and a sharp V following the shape of his hip.
Stiffly, your fingers find the buttons of his shirt. His pulse quickens, watching you watch him.
“Can I?” Bradley asks finally, rushing it out at once. He gestures to the one button left fastened, sitting above your navel.
If this was anyone else, Bradley would probably already be in the shower by now. This pace is unfamiliar, and foreign for him. He’s not quite sure where to tread.
You give him a little nod.
He takes one step forwards and pinches the button between his index and thumb, popping it open as his other hand fits securely against the small of your back and pushes you into him. There’s a second of observation as your bare stomach comes flush against his, where his eyes won’t leave your face for fear of missing some kind of a sign.
Being undressed by him as steam clouds the room, him doing absolutely nothing to hide the darkened look in his eyes. You weren’t fooling anyone by pretending that this could have been something innocent. You might as well accept it for what it is.
As his fingers dip under the material covering each of your shoulders and guide it back, off of your arms, you stretch up and kiss his mouth softly. Experimentally. He shuts his eyes and waits. Your second kiss is firmer, and your fingers reach for the nape of his neck.
He follows suit, relieved finally that he has some kind of sign about how you’re feeling about this. His hand hugs the nape of your neck, his nose bumping your cheek, his tongue swiping across your lip.
‘I like you, you know?’ Your words from yesterday afternoon have been playing in his mind all night. He’s an idiot for not saying more, he just hadn’t wanted to push his luck.
“Come on, we can’t be in here all morning.” He remembers, against your mouth.
“Right.” You sigh, eyes closed as you lean in for another kiss.
With your back to him, you drop your underwear to the ground with his shirt as he steps out of his shorts. You step into the tub first, falling under the safety of the warm spray. He steps in behind you, his fingers finding your waist.
You’re naked. Completely naked, and so is he. With your back to him, he can’t really see you, and you’ve no way of seeing him. The thought of turning around makes your chest feel tight.
He hasn’t ever had to feel so calculated about this before. Is he an appropriate distance away? — well, nothing about this is appropriate, but is he making it worse? — Are you waiting for him to make a move or do you want him to keep his hands to himself?
“I thought you were going to the university today.” You say to the wall of tile in front of you.
“Yeah. Weather took a turn, the road through town floods when it rains like this, apparently.” Bradley answers you.
The only parts of him that are touching you are his fingers. Experimentally, you lean your head back and as expected, it falls to rest against his shoulder. It just looks like you’re rinsing your hair.
His fingers stray from your hip and unfurl across your bare stomach, as he drops his head to press a soft kiss to the curve of your shoulder. That’s safe enough.
Heart racing, you lift your arms and pull your hair back, saturating it under the stream of water. As you stretch up to do so, your back curves away from him and your ass grazes his thigh.
He swallows thickly. Looking down, he knows you feel the way his half-hard package is pressing into the back of your hip. He turns his face toward your neck, kissing softly.
In a last ditch effort to regulate your breathing before he offers you a nebulizer, you screw your eyes shut. In the dark, you feel his heartbeat against your back, his warm fingers smoothing along your middle, his lips on your throat, and his erection behind you.
“God.”
His mouth stills against your neck. The tickle of his mustache alerts you to the hint of a smile on his lips.
“You alright?” He’s referring to the way you had audibly whimpered inches from his ear, in this extremely tight enclosed space, of course.
“Mhm.” You squeak.
He nuzzles the tip of his nose against the crook of your jaw. “You’re shaking.”
You swallow. “It’s cold.”
“It’s not.” He reminds you.
Screwing your eyes shut once again, you “Yeah. I’m sorry.”
Slowly, he tucks two fingers around the hair at the nape of your neck and guides it away from your shoulders. With your eyes closed, you feel his breath on your neck first. It’s cooler than the steam from the shower and it hits exactly the right spot between your collar and jaw to make you shiver.
He takes hold of your bicep and turns you steadily towards him, biting at his lip as he finds you just opening your eyes. He knows that if you look too long, you’ll panic. He presses swiftly forwards, his bare chest flush against yours as his open mouth closes around your pulse point.
Mm. The sound slips from your mouth before he is even done with the first kiss, while his fingers are still stretching around your hip and while his tongue is just softly greeting your warm skin.
For a man who, less than three days ago, was adamantly telling you in the streets of Florence that sleeping together would be a bad idea, Bradley sure does seem to be okay with all of this.
He’s okay with it. Too comfortable with it, really. He’s still holding back. If he wasn’t, he would flatten his palm against your ass and pull you against him, and let you feel exactly how comfortable with it he really is.
Instead, he focuses his attention on his mouth. Flowing opposite to the droplets of water, he sucks softly at the tender skin, trailing towards your jaw.
Each time his lips close around a new inch of skin, there’s an urging ebb that prods at you like electricity, buzzing within you and leaving you powerless. His frame towers before you; you know he would catch you if your knees actually did give out but you’d rather die than live through the embarrassment.
Like he shares the same sentiment of keeping you on your feet, Bradley’s hands flex around your waist, curling tighter around your soft skin. He pulls back, sweeping a hand through his wet curls as he studies your face.
He’s getting better at this, reading you.
His eyes break away from yours, and his gaze slips downwards. He’s dead quiet, drinking you in, studying your naked body.
The water droplets seem to have it all figured out. Spilling over your shoulders, flowing along the valley between your breasts. His gaze lingers there for more than just a few droplets.
Each one of your shaking breaths disrupts the pattern in a new way, rise and fall, spill and flow. Water beads across the soft flesh, flowing right past the warmed, softened, flushed skin of your nipples.
Maybe that water doesn’t have it all figured out after all — Bradley thinks there’s no way he could pass that by so freely.
Then, he watches where the droplets spill to once they pass your breasts by. They surge across your soft stomach, spilling across your abdomen, dripping into the navel and tracing the dulcet curve of your hips.
He hasn’t ever had you like this. Unobstructed, unwavering — all-encompassing. There could be a flood outside and he wouldn’t care. He knows he should be grateful for this, alone, and he is, it’s enough, you’re more than enough, but there’s a greed growing in him that wants more.
He wants to inhale the fresh, soapy smell of your skin. Taste the remnants of yourself on your skin, before it’s scrubbed clean. Feel you melt into him. His gaze flickers back up to yours like a drumbeat.
It makes you stiffen, the sudden look in his eyes. All red-blooded, lust-driven, filthy thoughts pooling into the soft browns of his irises.
Before he loses the nerve, or before you do, he tips your chin back swiftly and kisses you hard enough that the two of you fall into the cold tiles behind you.
Sturdy, centuries old structure behind your back and even sturdier, warm weight against your front, you’re pinned at an angle and your feet feel like they’re slipping but you’re smart enough to know that falling isn’t an option.
A deep and desperate sound falls from his lips as he pulls back, his forehead knocking into yours. Your mouth hangs open, your eyes wide, like you know just what Bradley’s thinking when he looks at it.
He squeezes at your body, leaning forwards and letting his mouth cover yours. You’re just about growing comfortable with it, with his nose bumping your cheek and his broad shoulders, his weight pinning you to the wall. Then, his hand skims along the centre of your back and without warning, squeezes firmly around the flesh of your ass.
It’s not that it feels bad. In fact, there’s something that makes you want to keen into the rough touch that you don’t quite understand. But all of a sudden, it clicks that you’re pinned between him and the wall, and his weight is a heavy anchor, his hands are everywhere and his mouth is hot.
He feels your fingernails press weakly into his bicep.
“Stop.” you tell him quietly. Really, you aren’t even sure if he would hear you. Maybe Malcolm hadn’t heard you, if you had asked him to stop.
He pulls back swiftly and looks down at you, both hands planting safely on your hips. He’s watching you carefully, but he doesn’t have to search hard go find what he’s looking for.
“Yeah?” He says softly, nodding.
It’s an instant thing, the way you shrink back into the wall behind you and duck your head. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he swallows and gives a shake of his head. He got carried away, that’s all. “You’re right. We should hurry up.”
And just like that, it’s not about sex. The fear in your eyes fades to recognition, and Bradley leans forwards and presses his lips to your forehead.
The two of you finish your shower in strictly platonic nature. One by one, you duck out of the bathroom and leave behind any evidence of your morning together, to get ready for the day.
Trees bow under the weight of the fat raindrops as the rumble of thunder grows closer. The villa groans and creaks, shutters rattling and slamming. The power gets knocked out a little after two, leaving very little for anyone in the house to do.
Bodies are strewn lazily around the living room everywhere you look. Luke’s taking up the majority of the couch, his raven-coloured hair tucked back under a Jets cap and a book balanced against his sternum, a concentrated frown plastered across his face.
Bradley got the good spot, tucked halfway into the reading desk in the far right corner of the room. His face is illuminated by a cluster of flickering candles, sitting amongst his piles of papers. Alessandro sits beside him, the two of them have been talking away for hours now. Their conversation is muted for the benefit of others, but you can hear the occasional Italian cuss word from your spot on the floor.
“Do you think they used to jerk it to these pictures?” Zoe whispers. You glance up at her, then across at Abigail.
She grins, lifting up the book and turning it onto its side, displaying a printed artwork like a centerfold. “See? Like an ancient playboy? — Miss June, and Miss July.”
Bradley looks up as the three of you giggle for the third time in ten minutes. It doesn’t take him long, when looking at the way Zoe is pointing out the spread legs of a woman riding a man, to notice the comparison she’s making to modern pornography.
He’s used to it by now, his students pointing at tits in the books and giggling to themselves. If she was doing her work, she would be reading about exactly what made the mulier equitans so popular in Roman art.
You’re laying on your front, looking up from the pages of your notes, with a soft grin toying at your lips. None of them know how you started your morning.
Today, Bradley is studying a passage from Ovid’s Art of Love, depicting various forms of copulation and the cultural attitude to them at that time. Sexual variety fascinated the masses back then. Paintings in homes, carved into architecture, spinitrae tokens in Pompeii.
Astrology and its links to sexual preferences. An intriguing read, really.
“Man, this is a wicked storm.” Robin glances over her shoulder at the mass of bodies lazing around the living room, then back out of the window at the sheets of rain pouring onto the fields beyond.
“This is wicked boring.” Luke says from his spot on the couch. As one of Bradley’s best teaching assistants, this work comes much more easily to him than it would to most. He could finish it in thirty minutes if he wanted to.
“Hey, Bradley—“
“No.” Bradley says swiftly.
Luke’s mouth stretches into a little-brotherly kind of annoying grin as he tucks an arm behind his head. “Come on. We’re bored.”
“Sounds wicked tough, dude.” Bradley answers, looking back down to the book, mocking his student so coolly. Luke has always found an older brother in Bradley, so the taunting just makes his grin stretch wild.
From your spot on the ground, you find yourself smiling at the pages at Bradley’s joke.
“Can you teach me how to do that card trick where it’s upside down in the deck?” Luke persists. You didn’t know that Bradley knew any card tricks.
“No.” He answers bluntly, but in the kind of way that shows he’s clearly still getting some kind of enjoyment out of this rapport with Luke.
“Bradley, did you ever tell anyone else that you took piano lessons for like twelve years?” Luke asks, shooting a pointed look at the baby grand in the corner of the room.
Bradley looks up at him, and your mouth twitches. A red flush starts at his ears and spreads across his temples, onto his cheeks and down his neck. You’ve never seen a grown man blush like that.
“Don’t go there, buddy.” Bradley warns him, knowing equally embarrassing facts about Luke and starting to categorize them in his mind.
“Did you really, Bradley?” Abigail asks.
He glances at her, then makes a point of trying to focus on his work once again. Big, boyish Bradley, delicately tapping away at the keys of a piano is difficult to imagine.
“He sings too.” Luke declares.
“Luke.” Bradley warns, not looking up this time, flushed pink.
You’ve never seen Bradley be quite this shy about anything. He frowns at the pages of his book, oh, so serious.
“C’mon. One song and I’ll leave you alone. We’re bored.” For once, you’re on Luke’s side. Not that you would voice that.
The wind whips the side of the house and the shutters rattle in support of Luke’s campaign. Bradley starts to scribble down nonsense annotations in the effort of getting at least something done.
“Go find a puzzle or something.” He mutters.
“Aw, come on, Bradley, please?” Zoe joins in.
“Just one song.” Robin adds.
Bradley looks up, and finds you. Caught smiling at him from the carpet, clearly amused by the entire situation. You stare back at him, unwavering and expectant.
With a dejected exhale, he looks down at his watch. “One. And then none of you are allowed to speak to me until at least 4pm.”
You know that he would make an exception to that rule for you. There’s no planned alone time for the two of you this afternoon, since he was supposed to be out. Maybe he’s as disappointed about that as you are.
“Play something we know this time.” Luke interjects as Bradley crosses the room to the piano. Last time, Bradley sang a track from the 50s and Luke didn’t have a clue what the hell it was.
Bradley untucks the bench from the piano, and sits down. His back is straight as he removes the cover and settles his fingers onto the keys. “Uh-huh, like what?”
“What, you’re thirty-three and you don’t listen to the radio anymore?” Luke scoffs.
Bradley closes his eyes for a second and tries to think of a song that he knows how to play from this decade. He doesn’t play too much these days.
The room is quiet, even the rain seems to have quieted in anticipation for his performance.
He shoots one more pointed look toward Luke, and then presses his fingers into the keys. You settle your chin against your palm as he taps out the opening chords of I guess that’s why they call it the blues.
Just like everything he does, he makes it seem effortless, fluidly playing the melody. And then he starts to sing.
You watch him across the darkened room. The candlelight flickers on his face as lightning strikes outside. Don’t wish it away, don’t look at it like it’s forever.
His fingers press gently into the keys, the only noise in the otherwise silent room. Alessandro sits back in his chair and smiles softly, knowing how much easier Bradley would have been convinced to perform all those years ago.
His voice is deeper than you would have expected, but soft as he finishes the first verse. God, he’s handsome.
It couldn’t possibly have taken longer than four and a half minutes for him to get through the song, but it feels like you watch him play all afternoon. Broad-shouldered, serious, still flushed-pink even once he has stopped singing. He turns sheepishly to face the room.
“Encore!” Luke whoops before anyone else gets a chance to say a word. Bradley groans, pushing himself up from the chair swiftly and rolling his eyes.
“Bite me.”
Zoe whips around to face you, clearly not as captivated by the performance as you had been. “Bradley’s kinda hot when he sings.”
Your mouth flattens, purely because it occurs to you suddenly that it wouldn’t be appropriate to smile. If she thinks he’s hot when he’s singing, she would be captivated by what you had gotten to see in the shower this morning.
The afternoon workload grows tiresome quickly, and Bradley watches his students filter out of the living room one by one. You disappear with Zoe and Abigail trailing in tow a little after three.
Alessandro’s wife serves a family style dinner, since the house is full and it’s still too rainy for anyone to have other plans. Bradley sits at the far end with Sandro and Dorie, all of them talking in politely hushed tones. You are at the opposite end, finding yourself missing those private dinners the two of you had gotten to share in the city.
After dinner, Bradley knows that his room upstairs is likely to be occupied after seeing Robin’s hand wandering across Luke’s board shorts at dinner. He disappears into the study to finish up with his work, and you call it an early night.
Well, you try to. After rereading the same three pages of Sarah Keene’s Air of Enchantment six times, you give up and head back for the stairs. The house is quiet and empty feeling. Without power, you guess there isn’t a lot to do around here.
You trail your fingers along the wallpaper, rounding the entryway into the now empty living room. The bench of the piano is still untucked from where Bradley had sat earlier. You let yourself be drawn towards it, taking a seat and brushing your fingers along the keys. Dust under your fingertips, candlesticks burning around the room — you figure that Sandro or his wife must be around somewhere if there are still candles lit.
There’s no sneaking around in a house like this. The handle clicks, and the wood creaks loudly from a room away. Bradley’s weight passes across noisy floorboards, growing closer.
He was hoping to see you, trying to convince himself to stay away from your room. His lips twitch. His eyes flicker over the grey track shorts and the Nicks jersey you’re wearing, casual and comfy, with your hair down. He likes it.
“Hey.” He says softly.
“Hey.” You answer, watching him. Maybe someday you’ll talk him out of wearing those t-shirts that are too sizes too big for him, but today’s not that day. It hangs on his broad frame as he walks towards you.
He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, squeezing your shoulder with a warm palm.
“Here.” You realize suddenly, shifting over as far as you can on the bench to make room for him. He glances down, knowing he won’t fit, and decides to perch half off of the bench anyways.
At your side, Bradley considers bringing up this morning. It’s been itching at him all day to know what about his behavior in the shower had been too much. He’s been wishing he was a mind reader, really. He would love to figure out exactly what he can do to make you relax.
“I didn’t know you played piano.” You tell him, watching your fingers ghost over the keys.
“I don’t, so much anymore.” He answers.
“I liked hearing you play.” You say.
He turns his head, smoothing his fingers along the length of your spine. Maybe he won’t hit Luke for revealing his secret after all.
Luke wants to do what Bradley does, and Bradley is only nine years older than he is — they had grown close quickly when Luke has first started TA’ing for him. Luke knows plenty about Bradley, and Bradley knows plenty about Luke. He hopes the two of you never get to making small talk, really.
“Will you play it again?”
He blinks, broken from his train of thought, and finding you looking at him now. Bradley looks between the piano and your face, his brows drawing slightly together.
”The same thing?” Bradley asks, displaying that awful habit he’s got of leaning one of those thick shoulders into you, crowding your space and grounding you with his presence. His thumb brushes tenderly over the tip of your nose, then across the bow of your top lip as he tips his head to one side. “You don’t want to hear anything else?”
You purse your lips in thought, then shake your head. The way your lips twist and hint at a smile just drives him crazy. Like he really has to work for the full thing. You shrug your shoulders at him. “Can’t a girl want a private rendition?”
He taps his thumb against your chin, his fingers stretching along the underside of your jaw. He doesn’t make you work for the smile that he gives you. Really, he would have to fight to keep it off of his face. “Fine.”
The tip of his tongue dips from between his lips to wet them, then he sighs softly and straightens into proper posture and turns his attention towards the keys. Your arm loops under his, your head settles to rest against his shoulder. He likes that feeling.
Wind whips rain against the shutters. The older ones creak and bang in complaint, unprepared for such miserable weather. Bradley’s fingers tap fluidly at the keys. Your fingertips trail the vein in his forearm up to the cuff of his rolled shirt sleeve.
He sings quieter than before. After all, this performance is just for you now. His voice is softer, if it wasn’t so effortlessly melodic, it would be like he’s reading to you. He doesn’t have to, there’s no sheet music in front of him and he knows which keys he’s reaching for, but his gaze remains solely on the piano. He can feel you looking at him.
From where your head is resting against his shoulder, you’re peering up at him with your obstructed view of his face. Your touch tickles against his forearm, your fingertips grazing the strap of his wristwatch with each trip.
As the first verse ends and the pace of the song builds into the chorus, Bradley winkles his nose slightly in concentration. Your lips twitch. The shutters bang against the old house. He turns his head and catches your gaze; you pull back so that he can really see you.
And I guess that’s why they call it the blues;
time on my hands could be time spent with you.
Laughing like children, living like lovers, rolling like thunder, under the covers.
And by the time he gets the words out, he’s smiling again. Not because of the absurdity of him performing Elton John for the second time in one evening, or because this is far from what he would have chosen to sing you, but because of the way you’re watching him.
Like you’re watching him play Sonata No. 14.
Long before Elton John first graced the US charts, Bradley would be sent over to his grandmother’s neighbor’s house every Thursday for two hours while the adults were at work. There, he sat at the piano and seethed to the pace of the metronome while a miserable seventy year old war vet scolded his posture. He hated playing piano back then.
It’s not so bad anymore.
And that miserable old man wasn’t really a bad teacher. Maybe Bradley was just a bad student.
Just stare into space, picture my face in your hands. Live for each second,
He turns his attention back towards the keys like he didn’t have the song memorized by ‘84.
And never forget I’m your man.
Wait on me, girl. Cry in the night if it helps. But more than ever, I simply love you, more than I love life itself.
Your head settles back against the warm muscle of his shoulder. Your fingers dance along the sensitive inseam of his forearm. You close your eyes and the rain grows louder, Bradley’s breaths between the lyrics grow deeper.
This is nice. You let your mind wander, wondering if evenings would always look like this with Bradley, if he would always sing you the same song over and over. On evenings like this, he would kiss the top of your head and tell you he loved you, and you would tell him the same.
It’s not hard to picture.
Your eyes remain closed through the chorus and remaining verses. Just the soft cotton of his shirt against your cheek, the rumble of his singing voice and the rain outside.
He swallows and clears his throat quietly, as he withdraws his hands from the keys.
“What’s your favourite song?” You ask him softly. His hands rest in his lap, his eyes on the painting directly across from him. He takes a moment to think about it.
“Have you ever heard the song Take it To the Limit by The Eagles?” You might not have, he figures that since you probably would have been in school when that album came out, you probably weren’t as big of an Eagles fan as he was.
You shake your head softly. “I don’t think so. What’s it sound like?”
He pulls back, and raises his eyebrows at you. “Is this an elaborate plan to get me to play for you all night?”
Your smile grows bashful, but your eyes remain steadily on him. “I just want to hear how it goes.”
“Well, what’s your favourite song?”
“You know that song from last summer, rhythm of the night?”
Bradley stares back at you. His eyes wrinkle at the edges and his mouth breaks into a grin before the laughter bubbles over and he spills forwards.
“Like El de Barge? Forget about the worries on your mind, da-da-da-duh-da-da?” You’ve never heard Bradley giggling quite like this before, literally tickled pink by your revelation as he jokingly hums out the words.
You’re powerless but to grin back at him. “Uh-huh. What’s wrong with that?”
Alessandro peers into the sitting room as he passes by. He doesn’t take time to stop and stare at the two of you sharing the piano bench, giggling with each other, but now he understands what the other students have all been gossiping about.
“I was expecting Madonna or — Wham, or something.” Bradley manages through his giggles, swiping a hand through his curls, almost gaining composure before bubbling over into laughter again.
“Sure, I like them,” You agree with him, smiling dumbly at the way he leans into you to laugh, “But come on! — You just can’t listen to that song and not feel happy!”
He’s up so close that you could kiss him when he finally gets himself together, still smiling softly back at you. Driven by his amused disbelief, he shakes his head softly. His fingers brush against your knee.
All of a sudden he has this image of you wandering around with that headset covering your ears, and De Barge being the soundtrack you have picked. Scowling at him from the back of the minivan, listening to such an upbeat track.
“You’re a trip.” He tells you.
Your eyes flicker downward, briefly catching on the way his fingers are curled into the skin of your thigh. Not too hard, just kind of holding you close. His own eyes follow suit, and linger on the way your hands sit in your lap. On your still bare ring finger.
When he looks at you this time, he’s thinking of the shower this morning. Your head lulling back onto his shoulder, sighing in pleasure as you just let yourself enjoy the moment. His lips tug at a soft smile.
“So, will you play that song for me? — Your favourite?” You ask. There isn’t a lot of room on the bench so, as you twist to face towards him, your thigh sits across the top of his, halfway into his lap.
Maybe he will end up playing for you all night, after all. He shoots you an amusedly pointed look, then lifts his hands and settles them onto the keys once more.
You grin at him, shifting closer again, settling your cheek against his shoulder.
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Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @cassiemitchele @himbos-on-ice @wkndwlff @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666@krismdavis @sheisanangell @cherrycola27 @kmc1989 @sugarcoated-lame @mshistorylover
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indybob · 1 day
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Top Gun Maverick memes, pt. 2✨
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inklore · 6 hours
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exception
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prompt: you don’t need anything, you want it.
pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x f!pilot!reader (sweets)
contents: dirty talk, banter, big dick seresin, f receiving oral, jake being pussy drunk, enemies with benefits, p in v, over stimulation a little | wc: 1.9k
note: every time the weather starts to get nice i slip back into my top gun era like a bear waking up from its winter slumber, forever obsessed, forever insane over this man.
this is part of this series but you don’t need to read it to enjoy this.
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The first time was an accident. A moment of weakness on your part. Something that was not and should not be repeated. 
You didn’t label things as mistakes; the word too harsh and unforgiving. Accidents left room for improvement…and if you ever repeated the same accident twice or three times, it made you feel less shitty about it.
You can thank your mother for such a term of phrase. An outlook that enabled you throughout your entire teen-hood and had you ending up in continuous situations that were unsavory and ended with you grounded—that haunting, disappointed look your dad gave you making your heart sink—in the long run.
The only difference now was that the only one here to scold you was yourself.
The only one to hold yourself back and talk yourself out of it, to lay down the law so hard that you’d never want to let the accident happen again. 
And you’d done that. 
Had scolded yourself the minute after it happened, and the sex haze had faded from your body, the smirk to your left enough to make your blood boil and not want to commit the same accident again. Enough to bring down the hammer on yourself. 
It was an accident you were not going to repeat.
A lapse of judgment and tremendous amounts of shots, that wouldn’t happen again.
Wouldn’t cloud your mind and let you be sweet talked and seduced by a country drawl attached to a pair of irritating lips that teased the column of your neck with love bites and kisses that made you fall to your knees in front of a man you wanted to punch.
And in your defense, right now, you were sober as the day you were born. There was no liquid dopamine warping your mind or driving your actions. No easy excuse for letting what is currently happening happen.
It would be easier to blame it on that. Alcohol. Shots. 
Just as easy as it is to put the blame on the cocky asshole who’s pressed to your side, words coming out liquid smooth, and coating the arousal that’s throbbing between your thighs. 
You should slap him. Deal out one of your many quips and dis him like you usually do. Your favorite thing about Jake Seresin is that pretty throat you’re constantly at. 
You hate him.
Some would even say despise. 
But you are a creature of consistency and you’ve never been someone to learn from one accident. 
And the more he talks, the more you smell him—a smell you can’t pinpoint but has always just been what your body has labeled him. A smell you could sniff out in a crowded room. 
A smell you’ve avoided during drills and trainings by refusing to work around him. 
A smell that's hard to ignore how it makes your insides feel when he’s so fucking close.
When his mouth is forming words so irritatingly tantalizing. 
God, you hate him.
”And what makes you think I need you to help me with anything?” You bite back at his teasing words and give him your own cocky smirk. “I have plenty of toys that do the job.” 
The corner of his mouth pulls up even more, eyes flashing to your lips. His tongue coming out to coat his own, your body flinching from the heat of his palm as it’s placed on your thigh—you knew you should have stayed in your room, gone to bed at a decent hour, not ventured to the rec room in your sleep shorts expecting no one to be awake. 
But, of course, Hangman was. Sitting on the couch, shit eating grin spread across his lips when you walked in and immediately scowled. 
Your body already feels hot but his hand just makes you feel warmer. Like you’re engulfed. A trail of fire follows up the length of your thigh as his hand moves up your leg, fingers pulling on the bottom of your shorts. Not enough to have them move to really do anything. Just enough to have you swallowing hard, breath held as Jake looks over at you, seeing no resistance. Nothing stopping him from pushing his hand under the fabric until his fingers are brushing your underwear. 
A hitch in your lungs as his index finger runs along the wet fabric. His nose brushes against the side of your cheek as his lips ghost against your ear, “We both know you don’t need anything. Anyone. You want it. Should I slip my fingers inside and show us both the proof?” The tip of his nose moves along your jawline until his lips are inches from yours, his eyes moving from your parted mouth to your eyes. “Or are you going to let me make you come again because you sounded so pretty the last time, Sweets.” 
And you can’t remember the internal fight and reasoning you’re sure you had with yourself or the convincing your sound mind might have tried to push through the desire and want, moving your body in action as mouths are pressed in hard kisses. Hands clinging and ripping fabric off of your body, nails dug into skin, before Jake’s lips latch onto your clit.
Your back arching off the leather cushions, your hands messing up his perfect hair. Knees pushed up, caging his head between your thighs. A pressure that makes deep noises vibrate against your throbbing clit when you do it. A hand at the back of your thigh grips them, keeping them there. 
“Oh my—fuck,” your chest shudders. Your breath puffy and held in your lungs until you have no choice but to let it out in a moan louder than you should. A weak moan thick with that need you don’t need. You don’t need anyone. Don’t need anything. But fuck do you need Jake’s mouth, the way his tongue moves along your clit, the way his lips wrap around and it and suck making your eyes roll back. 
Your cheeks burn hot, on fire, clammy from how good he is at this. How every time you rock your hips up against his mouth, he groans and mumbles something barely coherent as he gets lost in you. “God, Sweets,” "s'pretty," “just like that," licked, kissed, and sucked against your pussy. 
Jake eats pussy like he’s worshiping it. Like he’s carving his devotion with the tip of his tongue on all the places that make your breath catch, body contort, and walls squeeze around his fingers. And with the sounds and shakes of his chest each time you pull his hair, each time you move against him, feel your arousal gush around his fingers: it’s evident that he’s enjoying it just as much as you, if not more.
That there’s not just pleasure coursing through your body, but the both of you are soaking up each others desire, lust and pleasure with each returned moaned, arch, heavy breath. 
And when you come, your orgasm wracks through your body like a bullet that leaves you completely ruined and fucked in it’s wake. Both your hands in Jake’s hair, his eyes flashing to meet yours right as that dam breaks—the beauty of him squeezed between your thighs, mouth on your pussy too much for you to handle. 
You have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying his name. 
Refusing to let yourself go that far.
But Jake apparently needs to hear it. 
Needs you to dig your fingers into his shoulder as you try to push him away from your overstimulated and sensitive pussy, his mouth continuing to lap at you. Even as you groan and contort. 
“Hangman,” you say it once, twice, three times before you’re saying “Jake!” 
You could slap the smirk off his face when he lifts his head from your thighs, tongue cleaning up the remnants of you on his lips. You scowl, too sedated to give him your full wrath. Ready to go back to your room, curl under your blankets, and ignore that this ever happened tomorrow. 
Go back to not being able to stand him. 
But then he delivers a wet kiss to your skin, his teeth nipping at the meat of your inner thigh. Already reheating your body. Your eyes focusing on his swollen lips. The pink tint of his cheeks, his blown out eyes, and the way his hair looks so much better when it’s messed up like this. Messed up because of you. 
And you’ve already forgotten about going back to your room when you put your hand on his neck and try to pull him to your mouth. His stone still body stopping you. The curve of his mouth gnaws at your lower belly in a dozen different ways. 
Your fingers dig into his neck when you try to pull him to your mouth again, failing and giving him a disapproving scowl. A needy sound wants to burst through the back of your throat.
His thumb and forefinger pinch the bottom of your chin before his palm cups it, his thumb runs along your bottom lip. “Something you want, Sweets?” 
“Fuck you,” you say, more breathless than you wish you sounded. Your teeth biting into his thumb, making a noise between a soft laugh and something animalistic shakes his throat. 
“I will,” he says in that cocky drawl that drives you insane. “Just ask nicely.” He leans forward, pulls you to him with his hand at the back of your neck. The way he now smells like you and him mixed, makes your eyes droop a little. Makes your fight die a little. “Say, 'Jake, I need it’.” 
“I don’t need anything.” 
He hums, agreeing. His free hand slips between the two of you, and you can hear fabric moving. Can feel him moving your back against the couch cushion as he hovers and bends his lower half between your thighs just right. A whimper comes from your throat like a heavy stone coughed up when you feel the head of his cock grind against your sensitive clit. 
“But you need this, don’t you?” 
You want to argue, but it’s hard when the weight of his cock feels so good, spreading you apart. Against your clit. Pressing just enough at your entrance to stretch you around his achingly large girth. Enough to make you whine when it’s torn away. 
“Tell me you need it and it’s yours, Sweets.” 
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip; the hatred, the want, and desire make your mind go to war.
”Come on,” His cock stretches your entrance again, thumb at your clit. “It’s okay to admit I’m the only thing you need,” he lets a groan slip, hot and heady against your mouth. “I won’t tell anyone. I need you just as bad. Always have, Sweets. Fuck,” he breaths as he pushes further in, back out, in. Driving you both crazy with need. 
A deep, frustrated, moan puffs from your lungs, your fingers digging into his lower back as you push your knees further up his sides to make him go deeper the next time he pushes in. The both of you letting out a breath at the same time when you say, “I need you, Jake," his arms coming up to cage your head between them as his mouth devours yours in a rough kiss. The noise you let out when he pushes himself to the hilt inside of you is disgustingly needy.
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wdbhgrry · 3 days
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some sereshaw/hangster for you all! nobody can convince me that jake doesn’t wear his cowboy hat around just to annoy bradley
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callsigns-haze · 12 hours
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Out of All: Chp 7
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Jake Seresin x OC! Anna Bradshaw
Brothers' Best Friend Series! Follow along as these characters navigate the treacherous waters of love, loyalty, and desire, all while facing the ultimate taboo: falling for your sibling's best friend. From heart-pounding moments to steamy encounters, this series is a rollercoaster of emotions that will keep you hooked until the very end. Brace yourself for intense romantic tension, sizzling chemistry, and enough drama to keep you guessing. Are you ready to embark on this captivating journey?
This chapter includes explicit sexual content with detailed descriptions of sexual activity and intimacy between characters. Scenes depict physical intimacy, including kissing, touching, and biting, with characters described in states of undress. Emotional intensity is explored, encompassing themes of longing, desire, and vulnerability, with brief references to past trauma. Characters may be shown consuming alcoholic beverages, and mature themes such as casual relationships
Mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy test
Your mind raced with a torrent of thoughts and fears as you sat in the bathroom, the pregnancy test boxes clutched tightly in your trembling hands. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily upon you, each passing moment tinged with uncertainty and apprehension.
Caila's reassuring embrace offered a brief respite from the storm of emotions swirling within you, but deep down, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that everything would not, in fact, be okay. The prospect of facing such a life-altering possibility alone filled you with a sense of overwhelming vulnerability.
As you retreated into the bathroom, you found yourself confronted with the stark reality of the situation. The instructions on the test boxes lay before you, a series of simple steps that held the power to confirm or deny your worst fears.
With trembling fingers, you opened one of the boxes and carefully read through the instructions. The process seemed straightforward enough, but the weight of its implications bore down upon you with a crushing intensity.
Stripping away your clothing, you settled onto the toilet seat, feeling a wave of unease wash over you. The simple act of counting to seven seconds suddenly felt like an insurmountable challenge, each moment stretched to an agonizing eternity in your mind.
Despite the anxiety coursing through your veins, you summoned the courage to proceed, allowing the stream of urine to fill the container as instructed. Each second felt like an eternity, the pressure mounting with each passing moment as you willed yourself to maintain control.
With shaky hands, you dipped the test into the urine, watching as the liquid spread across the surface, carrying with it the weight of your hopes and fears. In that moment of uncertainty, you found yourself clinging to the fragile promise of a future yet to be determined, praying for a glimmer of clarity amidst the overwhelming chaos.
The expletive escaped your lips in a hushed whisper, the weight of the revelation bearing down upon you with an unbearable intensity. Panic surged through your veins, threatening to overwhelm you as you struggled to process the reality of the situation.
Positive.
The word echoed in your mind like a relentless drumbeat, each repetition serving as a cruel reminder of the uncertainty that lay ahead. You felt as though the ground had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you adrift in a sea of fear and apprehension.
Tears welled in your eyes as you clutched the positive test in trembling hands, the weight of its implications pressing down upon you like a suffocating blanket. How could this be happening? How could something so life-altering occur in the blink of an eye, shattering the fragile illusion of stability you had worked so hard to maintain?
Your thoughts raced in a frantic whirlwind, each scenario more dire than the last. How would you tell Bradley? How would you face Jake? The prospect of navigating this turbulent journey alone filled you with a sense of overwhelming dread, the enormity of the challenge ahead threatening to crush you beneath its weight.
But amidst the chaos and uncertainty, a small voice of determination whispered within you. You may not have all the answers, but you refused to let fear dictate your future. You would face this challenge head-on, drawing strength from the knowledge that you were not alone.
With a deep breath, you rose to your feet, the weight of the positive test still heavy in your hands.
---- As you entered your home, the weight of the pregnancy tests in your pocket felt like an anchor dragging you down into the depths of despair. Bradley's presence greeted you, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow and the gentle touch of his hands as he pulled you into a comforting embrace.
His hug was a lifeline in the midst of your turmoil, offering solace and reassurance as tears spilled from your eyes. You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his embrace as he guided you to the couch. With a tissue in hand, he offered you a lifeline to wipe away your tears, his steady presence a source of strength in your moment of weakness.
But when words failed you, when the magnitude of your revelation threatened to consume you whole, you reached for one of the pregnancy tests, the silent messenger of your reality. As Bradley's gaze fell upon the test, comprehension dawned in his eyes, his shock mingling with a fierce determination to support you through this unexpected journey.
Though a myriad of emotions swirled within him, anger was not directed at you, but at the unseen force that had left you in this state of uncertainty. He longed to protect you from the harsh realities of the world, to shield you from the consequences of someone else's actions.
As you sobbed in his arms, his words of comfort rang out like a beacon of hope in the darkness. "Chick, everything will be okay. I'm here for you, till the end," he reassured you, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.
But amidst the comfort of his embrace, a nagging thought lingered in the back of your mind. What about Jake? How would he react to this unexpected news? The uncertainty of his response loomed like a shadow over your newfound sense of security, casting doubt upon the fragile foundation of your world.
--The next day--
Jake was in the process of unloading his gear from his locker when Rooster stormed into the room with an air of agitation. His abrupt entrance caught Jake off guard, prompting him to inquire about the source of Rooster's evident frustration.
"Rooster, what's got you all worked up?" Jake's curiosity was piqued by his friend's uncharacteristic demeanor, especially considering Rooster's typically laid-back nature.
Rooster's response was unexpected, as he revealed that Anna, Bradley's sister, was the cause of his turmoil. The mention of your name sent a jolt of concern through Jake, his thoughts immediately turning to the incident in the Hard Deck. He couldn't help but wonder what could have happened to leave you in such a state.
"She told me something the other night," Rooster continued, his voice tinged with anger, "and she seemed really shaken up about it. But it's got me pissed off. She took a damn pregnancy test, man."
Jake's mind raced as he processed Rooster's words. The mention of a pregnancy test sent a shockwave of disbelief through him. He knew that he was the only one you had been intimate with, so the implications of the test were clear. But Bradley hadn't mentioned whether the test was positive or negative.
As confusion mingled with concern, Jake couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. Whatever the outcome of the test, he knew that he needed to reach out to you, to offer support and reassurance in your time of need. But as he contemplated the situation, one question echoed in his mind: What had led you to take a pregnancy test in the first place, you guys were always safe?
"W-was it positive?" Jake's voice trembled with a mixture of anxiety and disbelief as he sought confirmation from Bradley. The weight of the situation hung heavy in the air, and Jake's composure faltered despite his efforts to remain calm.
Bradley's response was heavy with resignation, his weariness evident as he rubbed his hands wearily across his face. "What do you think? My little sister is pregnant, Jake," he replied, the words carrying a weight of their own.
The reality of the situation hit Jake like a ton of bricks, his mind reeling with a flood of emotions. He couldn't bear to simply stand there, paralyzed by shock. Before anything else could be said, Jake made a hasty retreat from the room, his actions spurred on by a sense of urgency and the overwhelming need to find you.
As he sprinted down the corridor, he could hear Bradley's voice calling after him, but Jake's sole focus was on reaching you as quickly as possible. Every step propelled him forward, driven by a desperate need to talk to you and offer whatever support he could in the face of this unexpected turn of events.
--- Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you as you returned home from another day of filming. Nausea had plagued you throughout the day, and all you craved was a much-needed nap to sleep off the sickness. As you dropped your belongings by the door and slipped off your shoes, you made your way to the couch, longing for a moment of respite.
Lying on your back with limbs splayed out like a star, you stared up at the ceiling, succumbing to the pull of sleep. However, the tranquility was shattered by aggressive pounding at the door, jolting you awake. Blinking away drowsiness, you stumbled to the door, your head spinning for a moment before regaining focus.
The sight that greeted you was unexpected—a blonde, green-eyed Texan storming in with urgency written all over his face. Before you could even process the situation, his grip tightened on your shoulder, his voice urgent as he demanded, "Anna, are you pregnant?"
Shock coursed through you. How could he possibly know? But then it dawned on you—Jake worked with Bradley. Your heart sank as you realized your secret had somehow reached him. Taking a deep breath, you managed to nod in affirmation, confirming his suspicions.
Jake's demeanor betrayed his inner turmoil as he withdrew his hands from your shoulders, running them down his face in a gesture of stress. His forehead glistened with sweat, his expression pale and tense. Despite the gravity of the situation, he remained remarkably composed as he sought confirmation, "It's mine, isn't it?"
You met his gaze, unable to mask the uncertainty in your own. With a nod, you confirmed his fears, uttering the words that sealed your fate, "It's yours, Jake."
His reaction was not what you had anticipated. Instead of anger or frustration, he simply nodded, processing the information silently. His calm demeanor left you at a loss, unsure of what to expect next. As you braced yourself for his response, he surprised you by asking another question, his voice steady despite the weight of the revelation.
Jake's question hung in the air, pregnant with anticipation. As you nodded in affirmation, the weight of his words settled over you like a heavy shroud. You were indeed the mother of his future child, a reality that both terrified and astounded you.
Expecting a flurry of emotions or perhaps even his swift departure, you watched in bewildered silence as Jake turned away. But to your surprise, he didn't leave. Instead, he closed the door behind him before turning back to face you. His eyes bore into yours, and before you could comprehend his intentions, he closed the distance between you in a single decisive move.
A wave of shock washed over you as Jake's lips met yours, not with the casual familiarity of previous encounters, but with a passion that ignited something deep within you. The intensity of his kiss caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless as you surrendered to the unexpected rush of emotion.
In that fleeting moment, as the world seemed to fade away, you found yourself reassessing everything you thought you knew. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing was clear—this kiss had changed everything.
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religon (hangster)
rooster was born and raised in the mitchell-kazansky house. its- eccentric, to say the least. there are notes scrawled over the table reminding maverick of his meetings. ice's shoes are lined straight near the door. its controlled chaos.
but when hangman first walks into the home, it isnt these small, minute details that jump out at him. its bradley's fingers brushing across a small mezuzah on the doorway to the house. he pays no mind. if theyre jewish, thats fine by him. it remains in the back of his mind until he comes back to the house a second time, and he spots the golden cross necklace on one of the windows. it takes him by suprise.
back in texas, the cross adorned every wall. a grey one stood above his bed, its shadow landing on jakes body as he slept in his bed. it reflected from his mothers neck as her words of poison spit out, and stayed in the background, silently surveying the scene as jake seresin ran away from his father, begging for him to stop.
here, though, in this house, it just calmly rests. it watches over the little family from its place hanging on the window.
when he stays for dinner the first time, he expects there to be prayers. there is none. he isn't unsettled, though. it just seems normal.
months pass, and slowly, jake takes up the customs that bradley does whenever he goes the the mitchell-kazansky house. he taps the mezuzah, and puts on the small kippah when he's invited to shabbos.
in the background watches the small golden cross, gleaming in the pale sunbeams that filter through the windows.
for the first time in how many years, he doesn't feel like a sinner. maybe not a saint, sure, but he knows he can turn his back to the small golden cross and just like the mezuzah, it will protect him.
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vivalas-vega · 1 day
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match // new perspectives universe // jake 'hangman' seresin x reader
heyooo - i'm back from the dead - it's been a while since we've seen these two and for this one we're going back in time !! this is kind of a rewrite of something that’s already happened in the main chapters 🤭 i haven't written jake and jupiter in what feels like forever so this feels rusty to me lol but hopefully you enjoy!
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match // new perspectives universe // jake 'hangman' seresin x reader
add yourself to my taglist
part of my new perspectives series !! it will make a lot more sense if you're caught up on these two:
prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine
word count: 4.8k
warnings: language, mention of alcohol, college/med school/residency inaccuracies (I didn't go to college and it shows lol any and all knowledge on any of this comes from tiktok or greys anatomy)
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Sitting at your vanity (if you could even call a plastic set of drawers with a handheld mirror duct taped to the back a vanity) you briefly thought to yourself that you should be excited… and you were, for the most part. Today was one of those days that marked the start of a new chapter. You’d been lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it) to have had a few of these already… first opening your acceptance letter into college, then med school, and now you were getting ready to find out where you had been matched for residency.
The excitement and nerves you were feeling were subdued because really the only thing you could focus on was the fact that the only person you wanted here wasn’t… and you didn’t know where he was. He could have been on a ship halfway across the world or at a base a handful of hours away but in the end it didn’t really matter much… he wasn’t here, and that was just part of the deal. You knew what this was long before it got to this point, and that point was only accentuated by the floppy haired boy walking into your dorm just as you stood from your spot in front of the window to change.
“Well, don’t you just look darling,” he teased and on another day you might have laughed… struck a pose and had a witty comeback, something about ratty college tees and soffe shorts being on all the runways these days, but it wasn’t another day. It was today and your future was hinging on something written in an envelope waiting for you across campus and this boy wasn’t the one you wanted teasing you today. 
You undressed and stood with your back to him, a silent request for him to help zip your dress and he obliged just as quietly. There was an expiration date on you and Matt, this much you knew… but the way his fingers trailed down your arm and the lingering question he’d been asking all month told you he wasn’t on the same page. He had a vision for his life, one that very much included you and perhaps you felt a little guilty for continuing to keep him in your orbit but the more logical part of you reminded you that the vision you had for your life had been set in stone long before he showed up. He saw residency right here in California, with you by his side. He saw you switching your area of focus to general medicine, something less demanding to create room for starting a family, something you’d do within the next few years. You hadn’t had the heart yet to tell him that sounded like your own personal hell.
Your vision was Boston, in a cutthroat surgical residency program before moving on to whatever hospital offered the best fellowship for your chosen specialty… that was the one area of your life you’d yet to nail down. Most of your peers pursuing the surgical route knew what they wanted to focus on, some vying for cardio or neuro, others trauma or general but not you. That was the one thing you were leaving up to fate, deciding to instead let yourself make that decision a few years into residency… and if that fellowship happened to come along where the boy you missed more than anything was stationed? Well, you wouldn’t be one to complain. The vision didn’t include Matt, it never did. 
And so, as you turned to face him with a tight smile you wanted more than anything to tell him this was over, that it would be best to head into residency as individuals but then you saw that look on his face and you couldn’t do it right now… not right before finding out whether or not you were getting everything you’d spent the last eight years working towards (seven for you, but you wouldn’t point that out to him anymore than you already had). You’d wait until after, even if that meant walking into the ceremony with someone you had already decided you wouldn’t be seeing after today. 
“Hey, did you guys get settled okay?” you asked your parents as you set your bag down on the table and exchanged quick hugs. You’d already seen them this morning when they’d arrived and they’d decided to give you a little space to get ready. 
“Your mother has taken photos of about a dozen things at the hotel, taking notes for our upcoming remodel which… I was just informed of this morning,” your dad said and you laughed. Matt said his hellos before going off to find his own parents and you rolled your eyes at the look your dad fixed you with. “He’s still around?”
“Oh hush,” you replied. Your purse started ringing and you fished around lip gloss and old flashcards to find your phone, immediately feeling more settled at the voice on the other end.
“Hey you,” Jake said and you actually let out a sigh of relief. “How are you feeling?”
“Oh me? You know, cool as a cucumber. Not freaking out at all,” you answered with a small laugh and he just chuckled.
“Of course not, not like there’s anything big going on today.”
“Definitely not, just a normal day around here,” you said.
“I just wanted to call and tell you to breathe, because you forget to do that sometimes-”
“I do not-”
“Yes you do, and to remind you that no matter where you end up you’re going to be just fine.” 
“Thank you,” you said softly. “I know you can’t say where you are but I hope you’re flying safe today,” you added.
“Always do, sweetheart. I’ll call you tonight, yeah?” 
“You better.” you said with a smile as you hung up and put your phone on silent just as the announcer gave the two minute warning. You could practically feel the rising tension in the room, a mix of nervous excitement and pure dread. So many fates contained within tiny envelopes and as you picked yours up you found the whole notion of this rather silly. You felt bad for anyone who got news they didn’t want today, having to find out in a room full of people celebrating and you prayed to a god you weren’t sure you even believed in you wouldn’t be one of them. 
“I think I’m going to, uh…” you started, looking at your parents and then back at the envelope in your hand. “I’m going to just take a minute and open it myself, if that’s okay?” you asked hesitantly and they nodded.
“Whatever you want, honey,” your mom replied and you turned around as the announcer told everyone to open them. You took a deep breath, because you did forget to breathe in times of stress, and with shaking hands practically ripped the envelope apart to pull out a folded piece of paper… a piece of paper that you hoped contained two specific words. 
Massachusetts General. 
Your shaking hands persisted as you read and reread what was right in front of you. Massachusetts General. You blinked and read again, did it really say that? Massachusetts General. 
“Oh my god-” you started as you turned around to show your parents with the paper facing outwards but they were gone. Really they’d only stepped a few feet to the side but they, and everyone else in the room, may as well have disappeared because all you could focus on was him, standing right there in front of you in his dress whites looking so proud as he read the words in your hands that quickly fell to the floor in shock. “Jake?” you asked so quietly, your mind still not catching up but it didn’t matter, in an instant you were launching yourself at him and he caught you with ease as you wrapped around him.
“Hey you,” he repeated his words from just a few minutes ago on the phone and you let out a sound that was mixed with a laugh and a sob as you clung to him. “You did it, I knew you would.”
“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked as you pulled away slightly to look down at him and he just beamed up at you.
“You didn’t really think I’d miss this, did you?” he replied and you just smiled, but it was quickly wiped away as you heard someone clear their throat behind you and you didn’t need to look to know who it was as you slid down Jake’s body to the floor and turned to see Matt, who was looking at the pair of you skeptically.
“Jake’s here,” he said, trying to muster some kind of enthusiasm but it fell flat, “yay.” You stifled a chuckle as you looked at him expectantly, “I matched here, what about you?” You knew what was coming as you took the paper your dad held out for you and Matt nodded softly when he read it. “I thought we talked about staying here for residency?” You didn’t miss the way Jake scoffed behind you, clearly disgusted that that was the first thing out of his mouth.
“You talked about it, Matt… I was always clear about my goals.” you said firmly. “But this is what we’ve both been working for. Congratulations, really,” you said, wrapping him in a tight but quick hug. “Go, celebrate with your family. I’ll see you at the party later.” you finished, nudging him off and  when you turned around Jake was giving you the most unimpressed look.
“Don’t even, I will not be seeing him at the party later, if you must know.” 
“Is that so?” he asked with a smirk and you rolled your eyes as he chuckled.
“Congratulations, sweetheart,” your mom said, pulling you in for a hug.
“We’re so proud of you,” your dad added, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and you went to respond, to thank them for everything they’ve done for you but they didn’t give you the chance. “Go celebrate and spend time together, and have fun at the party tonight.” 
“What? No, you guys flew all this way… I thought we could go out for dinner-”
“Hush, you two have some catching up to do,” your mom replied. “Besides, I think whatever celebrations you get up to tonight are best kept from us,” she added with a knowing smile and you tried to fight your own. 
“We’ll do breakfast, just the four of us like old times… but we won’t wake you too early,” your dad said and you watched as Jake gave them hugs before they slipped away. 
When they left he turned to look at you, all pride and adoration, and you flushed under his gaze as you gave him a look that said what? “You fucking did it, Jupiter.”
“I fucking did it,” you replied, your laughter bright and uncontrollable as he lifted you from the ground and spun you around.
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“How’d he take it?” Jake asked as you entered your dorm, and you chuckled as you took him in, sprawled out across your bed, one leg hanging off the side because he simply didn’t fit. 
“About as well as could be expected,” you said and he laughed as he sat up.
“So… not well at all?” He laughed again when you nodded. “Tell me about this party we’re going to.”
“It’s pretty standard, I expect things will go as they always do with a campus party… just a little more celebratory with a slight drinking to numb the pain vibe from some.”
He nodded, “all your friends got what they were hoping for?” 
“For the most part… a few didn’t get exactly what they wanted but that’s kind of how it goes… matching is about a little bit of hard work and a shit ton of luck.”
“So, I’m guessing dress whites aren’t the vibe for tonight?” he asked, watching as you discarded your jewelry onto your desk and you chuckled as you turned and walked towards him, stopping in between his legs.
“Not at all,” you said with a shake of your head and you laughed again as he pouted and rested his hands on the backs of your thighs. “But they were a nice touch, you look very official and handsome,” you added on, hoping to turn his frown upside down.
And you did, he looked up at you with that same look he’d given you in the event hall. “I know you know this, but I really am so fucking proud of you, J,” he said and you softly smiled, feeling crimson creep onto your cheeks and you quickly diverted, trying to break some of the intimacy of the moment by pulling the hat from his head and plopping it on your own.
“Well, you should be, cowboy,” you said, stepping back and grabbing two beers from the mini fridge that doubled as a nightstand, handing one to him and he looked at you expectantly as you both cracked them open. “Because your best friend got into the fucking brig,” you said as you clinked the cans together and he let out a few cheers before taking a generous gulp. 
He stayed by your side as you got ready together, only engaging in a few quarrels due to the lack of space that only got smaller when your roommate Katie showed up, and you couldn’t help your amusement as the two of them got on each other's last nerves. Their relationship was very akin to that of siblings, they’d scream at each other through the phone on facetimes when the other was pulling too much of your attention and on the rare visits Jake managed she’d spend the whole trip pouting about how no one else existed when he was here.
“Are we not going to this party together, Katie?” you said, interrupting her latest spiel about Jake’s evilness, as she put it, and she held her hands up in surrender as you laughed. She put on a good show but you knew she liked having Jake around, it meant she got to see more of her favorite version of you… party Jupiter. And party Jupiter was in full effect as you strolled down the street lined with fraternity houses. The parties you attended these days were typically on the other side of campus and not quite as rowdy, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d been down here but it had been negotiated that the frats held parties for the med students this year, to give you all one more truly college party before everyone went their separate ways into a new journey of adulthood. 
“You’ve been here before, right?” you asked Jake as you watched him mix you a drink and he nodded.
“Mmhm, your third year of undergrad,” he answered and you snorted.
“Oh god, yeah,” you briefly reminisced on that party, one with no cause, and the shocked look on Jake’s face most of the night. As it turned out, you had actually been understating just how much Stanford kids like to party that day on the phone all those years ago. You mingled with Jake in tow, socializing with friends you hadn’t seen since the beginning of the year to due rotations and interviews across the country, and really emphasizing the fact that you wouldn’t see each other for a number of years after tonight in your drunken states much to Jake’s amusement.
You weren’t much of an emotional drunk but that didn’t seem to be the case tonight… Probably something about the finality of it all, going from college to med school didn’t seem like a huge transition for you because you stayed in the same place, but this was different. After graduation next week you’d be packing up and moving across the country, to somewhere that couldn’t be more different than where you were, and you would officially be a doctor. 
Jake watched as you let loose, cackling with friends about professors or that one time you stole a dozen mice because you couldn’t bear the thought of them being used for research (and you maintained that you’d been in the right each time it was brought up). The last time he’d come to visit you’d been so entrenched in your coursework he actually became worried, watching you study for hours on end from your bed as he realized this is what your life was. You’d always done a good job at completing everything before he arrived so you could focus on the fun but that visit just wasn’t the case… There were exams to prep for and applications to be sent out and interviews to be scheduled, and all he could do was half-heartedly read a book he’d plucked from your shelf about internal medicine and force you to come up for air every now and again.
But this time was completely different, there was nothing to worry about because you were done. You’d gotten to the end of your journey here at Stanford and were in that blissful reprieve period where there truly was nothing to fret over, and it simultaneously warmed Jake’s heart and broke it to see. On one hand, you were finally getting a true break after years of achingly hard work… but on the other that break would only last a few days before you went into a tizzy packing to move cross country and start your residency. He knew you were happy, and that you would be happy in Boston but he also knew things were only about to get harder, and that a few days of true relief weren’t enough.
Granted, this wasn’t how you felt, despite the fact that as you downed your drink and chatted with Katie about her upcoming move to Nashville you had no idea this was going through his head… you felt nothing but joy knowing that you got to spend the next few days with Jake before diving into your future. Residency is what you feel you’d waited your whole life for. You did the hard stuff, you laid the foundation and stuffed your nose in a book for years and now you were finally going to be able to do. 
“I think I might actually miss these parties,” you said as you sat down by the edge of the pool with a sigh, unclasping your heels and actually moaning in relief as you dipped your feet into the cool water and Jake chuckled beside you. 
“I find that shocking considering that after that one your third year you said you never wanted to set foot on this block again.”
“I’ve grown, things have changed,” you protested which coaxed another laugh from him. “God, I can’t believe I’m leaving this place soon. It almost feels like just yesterday I showed up here with nothing but a suitcase and a dream. And you! Mr. Top Gun graduate,” you added, nudging him playfully.
“Don’t let Coyote hear you, he’ll bust my chops even more than he already has.”
“I miss Coyote,” you said, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Are you going home for Christmas this year?” you asked and this took him slightly by surprise, considering it was spring and he didn’t expect you to be looking forward to anything other than residency.
“I don’t think so… the way it lines up I’d have to fly in on Christmas Eve and leave the day after… I think the short trips make my mom sadder than me not going home at all.”
“They do,” you said. “For my parents too. I don’t know why but they do. What do you think about me coming to you this year? If you’re on base.”
“I think that sounds perfect,” he replied, turning to press a kiss on the top of your head. “I’m sorry I can’t stay for graduation,” he said and you lifted your head to shake it, waving your hand dismissively.
“Truthfully I don’t care about graduation, it’s more for my parents and yours. This was the important one,” you replied, giving him a warm smile. “I still can’t believe you pulled off surprising me. How long have you known you’d be able to make it?”
“Since you first told me the day,” he answered and your eyes widened as you hit his chest.
“You asshole! You made me think you couldn’t come and this was your plan all along? I was really sad, you know.”
He let out a loud laugh, “yeah, I know. But it was worth it! The look on your face was priceless.”
“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered.
“Had to get you back for my tap out ceremony somehow,” he pointed out and you sighed, because he did have a point.
“That’s fair. Though, I could argue that it was a surprise for me as well, mine was not premeditated.” 
“To-mato to-mato,” he replied. “So, when do you make the big move?” 
“Well, tomorrow you’ll be helping me scout apartments, tough part is I’ll have to pick a place sight unseen so we’re going to have to be very thorough in our search and then hopefully I’ll be out there within three weeks… My program starts in four.”
“Unless a last minute deployment pops up, I think I can meet you out there… help you get settled and all that.”
“Really?” you asked, eyes wide and full of hope as you beamed up at him and he chuckled, knowing you were definitely drunk right now. “Seeing you twice in one month? I don’t think we’ve gotten that lucky since we were teenagers.” 
“Well, I don’t know about that,” he said with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows and you were startled by your own laugh, not expecting the turn in conversation. 
“That’s right, forgot I was talking to Hangman, eternal stud.” you joked. Briefly you thought joking about it should sting, and deep down maybe it did a little, but this was the first time it’s come up and the sting wasn’t the first thing you noticed.
“You haven’t done so bad for yourself either,” he said and you just gave him a deadpan glare.
“Really? You think Matt was making me feel lucky every time?” you asked and he went through the same range of emotions. He thought it should hurt, and it did somewhere deep down, but it wasn’t the first thing he noticed.
“He wasn’t? Then what was the point?” he exclaimed and you hid your face in embarrassment. 
“Oh, I don’t know! Truthfully it spiraled and I didn’t have time for anything else so…” you trailed off before letting out a groan. “Oh god, I’m a terrible person.”
“Now, how did we end up there?” he asked, brows furrowing in confusion at your statement.
“I knew all along I’d dump him right about now, how awful to not do it so much sooner.”
He shrugged, “maybe… but knowing you he did get lucky every time so don’t feel too bad. Broken heart or not he reached the mountaintop, good for him.”
“That’s a better, if not slightly twisted, way of looking at things.” you mused, resting your head on his shoulder again.
“Tired?” he asked and you nodded. “Don’t quite have the stamina of an undergrad anymore?”
“Shut up,” you said. “It’s been an emotional day.” 
“Wanna go home?” he asked and you nodded, allowing yourself to be pulled up and you awkwardly shook your leg over the pool to rid yourself of excess water, to which he just shook his head in amusement. 
You spent the walk back towards your dorm lost in conversation, giggling about nothing in particular and squealing when he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder, “Jake! I’m too drunk, don’t make me hurl,” you laughed but he didn’t seem to care, carrying you like it was nothing until suddenly you were on the move again, sliding down to the ground with Jake’s firm hands on your waist to guide you. Your brows furrowed in confusion when you noticed you weren’t at your dorm but instead in front of a shiny car.
“I love Katie,” he started, but was cut off by the questioning look you gave him, “really, I do, but you didn’t really think I was crashing in your dorm, did you?” he asked and he did have a point… the last time he visited she was on rotation so he crammed himself onto her tiny bed and complained all the next day… there simply wasn’t anywhere for him to be this time around. “I have a hotel room a few blocks away, do you want to come stay with me? Or I can walk you back to your room,” he added the last part a little hurriedly and you chuckled, you thought you just caught a glimpse of a younger Jake… nervous and not wanting to overstep. 
“Are you kidding me?” you asked, gesturing towards the door and he was quick to open it for you, “a night away from that thing they call a bed sounds like heaven.”
“And here I thought you just wanted to spend more time with me,” he said after walking around and getting in the driver’s side.
“Well, that’s certainly part of it… just not the main part,” you teased and he shook his head as he navigated towards his hotel and you looked over at him in amusement when you entered the parking lot. “Very fancy, Mr. Seresin,” you said as he opened the door for you and he extended his hand which you gladly took.
“Shut up and come on,” he replied and you did as you were told. Following him through the hotel and to the elevator, where they opened to reveal a cozy and beautifully decorated rooftop bar and you just looked over at him, eyes wide and questioning. “Tonight was a goodbye to your college life, and I thought what better way to end it than here, welcoming in this next chapter?”
“Jake…” you started, the lingering alcohol in your system still present enough to have you feeling a little more emotional than usual. You sat at a cozy loveseat positioned in front of a firepit and thanked the waiter when he brought over your cocktails, gin and tonic for you and something whiskey based for Jake. 
“To you, Jupiter. You’ve worked so hard the past seven years, and you never once wavered when things got hard. You are nothing short of incredible, and being here with you right now, marking this occasion… it means a lot to me, and I’ll never stop being proud of you.” he said, and you felt your eyes well with tears that mirrored his own.
“Stop, you can’t cause then I’ll really lose it,” you warned, laughing softly as you wiped your cheeks. “Thank you… not just for saying that but for being you, and for being here. I was a wreck all morning and then I turned around and saw you and everything felt… settled. You being here means more than you know.” you said and you clinked your glasses together before taking a sip. “I’m really proud of us.” you said added a few moments of silence. “Do you remember the day we decided to break up?”
“Vividly,” he chuckled and you couldn’t help but laugh too.
“God, we were so young, with such big dreams… and going into it all so devastated… I wish we could go back and tell them it wouldn’t be for nothing, that we made it.” 
“We did make it didn’t we?” he asked and you nodded, a smile creeping onto your face. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and you didn’t know if it was the weighty realization that seven years ago you broke each other’s hearts to pursue the dreams you’d just achieved or the alcohol or just the fact that you simply wanted to but you leaned forward and let your lips brush against his. Soft and questioning but he pressed forward and captured you in a searing kiss. Years of pent up emotion and love spilling out, and you smiled when he chased your lips as you pulled away. 
You didn’t need to say anything, didn’t need to acknowledge any of it. You both knew it didn’t change anything, you both might have made it but only to the next stepping stone… it still wasn’t the time. You kissed him once more before scooting closer and resting your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around your waist as you just enjoyed the moment for what it was. A celebration of what was to come.
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sailor-aviator · 1 day
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Two Birds: Chapter One
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Two Birds: Chapter One
Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader x Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw
Summary: Growing up in the midwest meant that you weren't exposed to many of the dangers of the world, and it also meant that you missed out on some of what life had to offer. Taking a leap, you move to New York City with a few personal belongings and the little money you have left in your savings. You become good friends with your roommate and, by extension, the people at the club she works at. However, it isn't long until you catch the eye of not one, but two mafia bosses that rule the city with an iron grip. Will you stay out of their clutches, or will you give in and become another pawn in their wicked games? (Mafia!AU)
Content Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of guilt, Gentlemen's club (off hours), Flirting, Handsy Bradley and Jake, Pet names, no use of y/n. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!
Word Count: 3.9k
Series Masterlist
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A couple of weeks had passed, and you were now entering your third month of living in the city. Annie had been right, you had become fast friends after long nights spent gabbing about anything and everything, and late mornings after the previous night’s binge drinking. Your roommate was a fun, happy-go-lucky soul, and you loved her all the more for it.
Your job at one of the local bakeries near the heart of the city provided you with enough money for your portion of the rent, food, and enough to spend however you saw fit, a feat you still weren’t sure how you managed. Your boss was a lovely older woman in her mid-fifties who greeted you with a smile every morning as you clocked in for your shift. Thankfully, she preferred to do the early, early morning prep work herself along with her daughter, so you weren’t expected to walk through the doors until sometime around eight every morning.
You enjoyed the tediousness of the job, the routine giving you something to latch on to in the unfamiliarity of the big city. Annie had been coaching you diligently on how to navigate the never-ending, concrete streets and sprawling subways. Your Midwest manners were quickly stamped down by your burgeoning experience with the different crowds that inhabited the city.
“Don’t walk around at night by yourself if you can avoid it,” Annie had told you during your first week there, the two of you headed back to the apartment after you had decided to go out for dinner. “There are a bunch of crazies out here, Mousie. Me? I’m used to this place, but you got that air about you that just invites people to take advantage.”
You hummed, trotting a few paces to try and keep up with her much longer legs. She cast you a sideways glance with a grimace of an apology.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything bad by it,” she sighed, hands pushed into her pockets as she slowed slightly to give you a break. “You’ll perfect the art of the ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibe before you know it, Mouse.”
And you liked to think that you had come along way in the few weeks you had spent in the city, perfecting your mean, scary face so that people wouldn’t approach you. Some still did, but the number had certainly decreased. Though, you still felt the nagging feeling of guilt every time you outright ignored someone, averting your eyes and hanging your head as you walked a little faster down the street.
Today was a day you, thankfully, had off. Though, you still rose early, your body already used to the schedule of the bakery, and as you stretched in bed, your mind wandered to the container of chocolate chip cookies that sat on the counter in the kitchen. A gift from your boss, albeit they were cookies that would have been thrown in the trash anyway due to their age of only two days.
You lay in bed for the next half hour, dozing as the light of the day streamed in past your curtains, illuminating your still plainly decorated room. Annie had offered to take you shopping for more decor, but you had insisted on earning your own money and paying for your own decor.
“It’s not like I don’t have the extra cash, babe,” she told you, lips pulled back into a grimace as she watched you flit about the apartment.
“I’m serious, Annie,” you told her, glancing over your shoulder at her as you set the mop to the side. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t want to take advantage of your kindness either.”
“How is it taking advantage if I’m offering?” She muttered with a scoff. You had shot her a warning look before placing your hands on your hips.
“I need to prove to myself that I can do this,” you sighed, feeling your shoulders slump.
“Alright, alright,” she relented, giving you an understanding smile. “But if I give you gifts, you have to accept them. It’s a law or something.”
You smiled fondly at the memory, pulling a pillow close to your chest, one of Annie’s many “gifts” as she called them. Your eyes flickered open with a stifled yawn before you lazily rolled over on to your feet. You padded out the door and down the hall to your shared bathroom, Annie’s soft snores filtering out past her closed door. Her job often kept her up until the early morning hours, and there were days where you were headed off to work just as she was walking through the door.
You brushed your teeth and got ready for the rest of the day, settling on a pair of faded jeans, a plain, white t-shirt underneath a beige cardigan and a pair of simple sneakers. You didn’t have much planned for the day, but you had been meaning to check out one of the bookstores downtown. Your groceries were getting low too, and you knew you’d have to go and get more soon, adding a trip to the grocery store to your list of things to do that day. You settled on the couch with a cup of tea, inhaling the aromatic steam that wafted up towards you as you turned on the TV, the news popping up to greet you. A string of violent crimes plagued the city, but you had slowly become accustomed to that news as well during your time there.
Eventually, you grew bored with the news, choosing instead to turn on the latest crime documentary from Netflix, the serious tones of the detectives and witnesses filling the quiet, morning air and lulling you back to a place somewhere between sleep and awake.
You weren’t sure how much time had passed when the sound of Annie’s door opening jolted you awake. You blinked, shuffling to sit up on the couch just as she trudged through the doorway, rubbing sleep from her eyes and looking around blearily.
“Wha’ time’s it?” She asked, voice thick with sleep as she rubbed her face. Her hair was sticking up every which way, her eyes still ringed with the tinges of last night’s makeup. You knew she must have had a particularly late night.
“Uh,” you started, glancing at the clock above the stove, “just before noon.”
“Shit!” She hollered out, eyes growing wide and panicked as she turned to sprint back into her room. You heard a commotion from her room before footsteps sounded in the hall, leading to the bathroom where the shower creaked to life, the spray hitting the tub. You sighed, hoisting yourself up off the couch to rinse your mug out in the sink. The shower didn’t run long, and soon you heard the creak of the valves turning off, soft thuds and movement coming from behind the door. Annie burst out, drying her hair furiously as she padded into her room wearing nothing but the small towel wrapped around her.
“Cannot believe I overslept,” she griped, her door closed just enough to provide herself some privacy as you waited in the kitchen.
“It’s a bit early for you to head down to the club, isn’t it?” You asked, brow furrowing. Usually, Annie didn’t head in for another couple of hours, and you heard her let out a huff as she appeared back in the kitchen dressed in a pair of jeans, fitted black top and matching heels. Even running late, she still looked immaculate.
“Bosses want us there extra early today to try out some new routines,” she explained.
“Bosses?” You frowned. “I thought your boss was Reuben?”
“He is,” she assured you, digging through her purse to make sure her keys were still inside. “But the big bosses are coming in today.”
“Who are the big bosses?” You asked, leaning over the counter. She paused, pressing her lips firmly together before giving you an uncertain look.
“No one you wanna get involved with, Mousie,” she said finally. “I mean, they’re nice enough guys, but…”
She trailed off, and the implication wasn’t lost on you. You offered her a tight smile, glancing at the stovetop clock once more before waving her off.
“You better get going before you’re even more late,” you warned, nodding to the time. She cursed again, shouting a quick “thanks” over her shoulder as she sped out the apartment, the door slamming closed behind her. You let out a sigh, rolling your eyes affectionately after her before grimacing at the apartment. Perhaps you would make it to that bookstore another time. For now, you settled on grabbing your own purse to go grocery shopping.
You had just made it back into the apartment when your phone buzzed. You settled the bags on top of the counter, your fingers aching with the strain of the multitude of bags before fishing your phone out of your bag. Annie’s name flashed across the top, and you quickly unlocked your phone before your eyes landed on the all too familiar words.
I forgot something at the apartment.
Could you grab it for me and bring it by the club pretty please? :(
You huffed out a laugh, typing out a quick response to let her know that of course you would bring whatever it was she forgot to the club for her.
You’re the best! Came her even quicker reply, and you just knew she had been pacing nervously backstage, biting her fingers in that terrible habit she had when she was nervous.
It’s a pair of silver heels and a hot pink boa. They should be on my desk chair. You can’t miss them!
You shook your head, noting how she herself missed them in her rush out the door this morning, but dutifully made your way to her room, pushing the door open as you stepped inside. Sure enough, the heels and the boa lay draped on top of the chair in question, and you quickly gathered them up in your arms to bring back into the kitchen. You grabbed your phone, firing off a quick reply.
I’ve gotta put groceries up really quick, but then I’ll head over. Give me about an hour?
Anything for you, Mouse! I owe you!
You laughed outright at that. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for your roommate, and you often found yourself making the trip down to the club to bring her something she forgot. You set your phone down and made fairly quick work of the groceries, storing the bags underneath the sink for later use. You grabbed your things before grabbing the heels and the boa, pausing to grab the box of cookies that still sat on the counter before making your way out the door and locking it behind you.
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It was about a twenty-minute train ride to the neighborhood where Annie worked, and you exited the subway with a squint as your eyes readjusted to the daylight. You walked a block south, coming upon the familiar, unassuming building with a sign that read “The Hard Deck” in a pretty, pink scrawl across the top of the entrance. A man dressed in all black stood by the door, his face mean and intimidating with eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. You grinned up at him as you approached, and a hint of a smile pulled on his lips as he caught sight of you.
“Hey Tony,” you greeted, wiggling your fingers with the hand that held the heels and the boa. “How’s your day been?”
“It’s better now that you’re here, Mouse,” he chuckled, relaxing his posture somewhat. “I take it Annie forgot something again?”
“Yeah,” you shrugged, rolling your eyes playfully. “Name a time she hasn’t, you know?”
He laughed at that, his head resting against the brick of the building as he rolled his shoulders out.
“She used to tear out of here like a bat from hell before you came to town, ya know,” he grinned. “Wonder what she’s gonna do when you’re not around anymore to spoil her like this.”
“Well,” you started, “hopefully that won’t be for a while yet. Now, do you want a cookie before the others eat them all?”
“Thought you’d never ask,” he laughed, pushing off from the side of the building to peek into the box you held in your hand. He grabbed one, taking a bite and humming as you walked past him and into the building.
When you had first found yourself stepping into Annie’s work, you had been apprehensive, expecting a seedy, little hole in the wall with sticky floors and tacky decor. Instead, you were greeted with a clean, sultry business that Annie told you had earned a reputation of being the best in the city.
“It’s actually pretty classy,” she had told you when you first asked her about what she did for a living. “It’s a lot of high end clients that frequent there, and they tip pretty well too. It’s decent pay to begin with and the manager is a pretty good guy too.”
You had met Reuben on one of your first trips to the club, the handsome man not being at all what you expected from a manager. He was young, for one thing, hovering somewhere between mid-thirties and forty if you had to guess. He was dressed to the nines every time you saw him, a friendly smile always on his face as he greeted you. He was nowhere to be seen now as you strolled into the Hard Dark, voices filtering out from different areas of the large room and from backstage as your eyes swept the area.
There were no windows, the only lights coming from the artificial ones that hung overhead. The main color was black, a red carpet curving across the floor and red drapes hanging from off the walls with gold accents placed everywhere. It gave a feeling of old Hollywood, almost.
“There you are!”
You turned just as Annie rushed over to you, pulling you in for a tight hug. She pulled away, grabbing her heels and boa from you.
“You’re a lifesaver, Mousie!” She beamed, and you waved her off.
“I wasn’t doing much anyway,” you told her, shifting the box of cookies into your now free hand. “I brought the cookies too for everyone.”
“You’re so sweet, babe. Come hang out with us for a while,” she cooed, pulling you further towards the main stage. Familiar faces of the different staff greeted you as you walked through, several waving and others following you once they spotted the bright pink box in your hands. You often brought goodies from the bakery, making you an instant hit with the employees at the club.
“What did you bring for us today, Mouse?” Bryan, one of the bartenders called.
“Cookies!” You called back with a smile.
“You’re such a godsend, hun,” said Lindsey, one of the other dancers. “I never have time to go to this place before it closes.”
“One of the perks of being roomies with an employee there,” Annie grinned at her, swiping a cookie as you set the box down on the stage and opened the lid. Several others clambered toward the stage to snag a cookie before retreating and allowing the next wave in. You were so caught up in the conversations happening around you that you didn’t notice the figure come out from the back.
“What’s going on here?” A deep timber asked. You noticed Annie stiffen visibly beside you before turning your head to look at the newcomer. He was tall, brown hair curled against his forehead that pointed towards a pair of golden brown eyes. Scars littered the golden skin of his face, and you couldn’t help but notice the strong muscles that lay hidden beneath his dress shirt. Your lips twitched at the sight of the mustache that hung above his upper lip, but you quickly tamped it down as you took in the nervous faces around you. He swaggered over towards where you stood, the small crowd parting easily for him, and you had to tilt your head back just to meet his gaze.
“Shouldn’t you all be working?” He pointed out. His voice was light, playful even, but the underlying warning in his tone was palpable, and all but Annie and yourself hastened to get away. You swallowed slightly, shifting uneasily at the change in the atmosphere. Annie stood still next to you, not saying a word which was unlike her.
“And who might you be?” He asked, leaning against the stage with a smirk. “Think I would have remembered a pretty face like yours. You lookin’ for a job, hm?”
“She’s my roommate,” Annie replied before you could say anything. “She’s just stopping by to drop off a few things I forgot is all.”
“Is that so?” The man hummed, peeling his eyes away from you long enough to cast her an unreadable look before they shifted back to you. “So you’re the little mouse Reuben mentioned pops by from time to time, huh?”
“I guess,” you muttered, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt as you looked anywhere but at him. You felt his smirk grow as he leaned into you, his nose almost brushing yours in the process. You squeaked at the sudden proximity, eyes widening as the smell of his cologne encircled you, the scent of sandalwood, vanilla, and something woodsy ensnaring you as he spoke.
“My name’s Bradley, Mouse,” he murmured, lips curling into a sultry smile as he laced a finger through the loop of your jeans. “You gonna give me a taste?”
You had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t talking about the cookies that still sat on the stage. Without thinking, you grabbed the box, bringing it between you and Bradley, putting some distance between the two of you enough so that you could try to scramble for a coherent thought.
“Here,” you squeaked. Bradley looked stunned for a second, brown eyes wide as he looked from you, down towards the box. There was a moment of still silence before he tossed his head back with a loud laugh, one that caused several people nearby to jump. He looked back at you with a wicked grin, taking the box from your hand and putting it back on the stage with an added chuckle. He grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him and bringing a hand up to cradle your face as he leaned down, his breath fanning over you.
“I might just have to keep you, honey,” he purred, eyes hooded as he drank you in. Your face warmed at the combination of his words and his hand around your waist that slowly started to wander.
“What are you doing, Rooster?”
You jumped at the new voice, turning your head with a gasp as your eyes landed on the stranger standing next to Reuben. His square jaw was clenched in what you could only assume was annoyance, narrowed, green eyes moving from Bradley down to you. His face softened slightly, brow arching as he took you in. You thought you saw his lips twitch in the hint of a smirk before neutrality settled over his features once more.
“Hey, Mouse!” Reuben greeted, his friendly demeanor almost unnerving. He acted as if you weren’t being held captive in the arms of a strange man, instead looking from you towards where Annie stood behind you. “I didn’t know you were stopping by today.”
“Annie forgot something,” you offered weakly, breath still ragged from how close Bradley still held you.
“Rooster,” the blond man spoke up, his voice commanding attention, “you’re scaring the poor thing. Why don’t you let her go?”
Bradley grunted but let you go slowly, shooting you a wink as you backed up a couple of steps. The blond man stepped forward, hands shoved into the pockets of his expensive looking pants as a slow smirk crawled onto his lips.
“So you’re the little mouse we’ve heard so much about,” he drawled, stopping just in front of you. You shrugged, not saying anything as you averted your gaze. The man arched a brow at you, taking a hand out of his pocket to place a finger underneath your chin, lifting it so that you met his emerald gaze.
“Words, darlin’,” he purred, something twinkling in his gaze as you looked at him. You swallowed thickly.
“Yes,” you replied, earning a hum. The man’s finger traced along your jaw before his hand cupped the side of your neck gently, almost possessively.
“Good girl,” he praised, and something inside of you unexpectedly preened at the words. He leaned forward, the smell of patchouli and a hint of citrus hitting your nose at the movement. His lips brushed against your ear as he murmured, “my name is Jake.”
A shiver ran up your spine, and you felt his lips curl into a grin at your reaction.
“Shouldn’t we be getting back to business?” Bradley snapped, looking put out as Jake withdrew from you. The blond snorted with a roll of his eyes as he stepped back towards his companions.
“Since when do you give a shit?” He asked, the challenge hollow as he kept walking, Reuben quick to fall in line behind him. Bradley frowned as he watched Jake walk past, a muscle twitching in his jaw. His eyes looked back at you, lips curving in a thoughtful smile before shooting you a wink and following his two companions.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, Annie coming up behind you quickly.
“I am so sorry,” she cried, blue eyes big and sorrowful.
“Why are you sorry?” You asked with a snort, brushing your hands down your rumpled shirt. “They’re the ones who’ve never heard of personal space, apparently.”
“Babe, do you not realize who they are?” She asked, brow furrowing as she studied you, lips pursing as she shook her head.
“Of course you don’t,” she muttered, placing a hand on her forehead as she sucked in a breath. “God, I’m so fucking stupid sometimes. How could I forget to tell you one of the most basic things?”
“Annie, what are you talking about?” You asked, crossing your arms as a sinking feeling came over you. Her eyes snapped open as she looked at you with an uncharacteristically solemn expression.
“There’s a lot more to this city than you realize,” she told you. “There are groups always grabbing for power and control of it, and right now there are two who are going head to head: the Daggers and the Harpies. You just met the two men who are in charge of the Dagger syndicate, Mouse: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin and Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw. ”
Your heart sank, and your head involuntarily whipped around towards where the group of men walked off to. You spotted them sitting in one of the booths, Reuben talking animatedly about something or other, but your stomach did a flip as you realized that both Jake and Bradley were already looking at you. The blond arched a brow at you while the brunette waggled his fingers at you with a playful smirk. Annie followed your gaze, sighing before continuing.
“And it looks like you’ve gone and caught their eye.”
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A/N: Thought we might take a quick break from talking about Angel!Jake and go back to Mafia!Jake and Mafia!Bradley, and they're finally here! What do we think of them from our first meeting? As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to receive updates on when I post, please follow my sideblog (@sailoraviator-library) and turn on post notifications! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!
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Curfew
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Yn - Jake
Jake - she’s past curfew 
Yn - cowboy, its only ten minutes past ten
Jake - I specifically said be home by ten, not ten minutes after ten
Yn - Cowboy, calm down. Our daughter is very responsible 
Jake - I trust her, I just don’t trust the guy she’s with
Yn - cowboy, Bradleys son isn’t that bad. If I remember correctly you were the same way. You pissed my dad off so much that he almost forbidden me from seeing you
*in walks Addison with the biggest smile on her face*
Jake - where have you been
Addison - sorry daddy, I lost track of time
Jake - you’re grounded
Addison - WHAT
Yn - Jake!
Jake - you were out past curfew, lord knows what the spawn of Bradleys was thinking 
Yn - Addy, you aren’t grounded. Your father is overreacting, he was the same way when we were your age. Just remember to come home on time 
Addison - okay mom, love you
Yn - I love you too Addy, I’ll see you in the morning 
*you glare at Jake*
Yn - Jake, that was uncalled for. I should ground you and have you stay at Javys house to think about what you did
Jake - that is extreme
Yn - so was grounding your daughter for being ten minute past 
Jake - fine, I won’t over react next time. If she comes home last then I’ll forbid her from seeing him
Yn - Jake, shut the fuck up before you sleep on the couch
Jake - yes ma’am 
Yn - good boy, I’m going to bed
*you kiss his lips then make your way up to the bedroom*
Jake - what am I going to do
Yn - you coming or do you actually want to sleep on the couch
*he runs up the stairs before you shut the door*
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Masterlist
taglist - @jessicab1991 @callsigns-haze @cevansbaby-dove @buckysteveloki-me @hookslove1592 @els-marvelvsp
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bradshawssugarbaby · 16 hours
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Just What I Needed - Jake Seresin x Reader
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a/n: here's the part two to Got My Mind Set On You, as requested by @mamachasesmayhem 🤍 this can also be read as a standalone fic!
pairing: Jake Seresin x reader
warnings/content: literally smut with no plot. p in v, fingering, praise kink, calling Jake by his rank.
word count: 1.3k
taglist: @avengersfan25 @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @dempy @b-bradshaw @ahopelessromanticwritersworld
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The car ride home from the bar had been quiet, Jake’s hand resting firmly on your thigh the whole way, his fingers grazing the inside of your thigh just enough to make you sweat. You felt a fire beginning to brew in your core in anticipation - you knew exactly what this meant. From the moment you started teasing him in front of his friends, using his attraction to you to make him lose his game, you knew what you were doing. 
Jake pulled into the driveway, pulling his hand away from your flesh as he killed the engine. He got out of the truck, and for a split second, you almost wondered if he was mad at you - you knew it was all an act though. He opened the passenger side door for you, grinning as he offered his hand out to help you down. Instead of helping you graciously to your feet, however, Jake pulled you in as close as physically possible, your back arching against the arm he’d wrapped around you for stability. He gave you a passionate kiss, the kind that left you breathless, gasping for air but all the while, desperate and hungry for more. 
He let go of your frame, your light-headedness from the kiss making you feel unsteady on your feet for a moment. As you regained your balance, you began heading for the door, Jake’s hand delivering a playful, yet firm tap to your ass as you headed up the steps. You squealed in delight at his touch, prompting him to do it again.
You giggled as you kicked off your shoes at the door, secretly thanking yourself for deciding on platforms at the last minute, making it easy to ditch them as fast as you could. Jake’s tall, muscular frame pressed into you, backing you up against the wall of the hallway. His hands wandered up and down your sides as his mouth found yours, locking you in with a passionate kiss. He nipped at your bottom lip with his teeth, grazing the sensitive skin ever so slightly. 
You moaned into his kiss as his hands reached up for your chest. He grasped at your breasts, squeezing them firmly as his large hands cupped them over your shirt. He grunted as he kissed you hungrily, lips trailing down your jaw. A mess of hot, sloppy kisses made their way to your collarbone as Jake continued to knead your breasts with his hands. His mouth peppered the tops of your exposed breast with more hungry, open-mouthed kisses, each one feeling a little more desperate than before. Jake’s actions made it clear - he needed you. He craved you. 
His mouth trailed its way back to your ear, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin as he spoke in a husky whisper. 
“Fuck, sugar, I can’t get enough of you,” he rasped as his hands made their way to your hips, gripping them tightly as he held them against his own. 
Jake got down on his knees, grinning up at you before roughly shoving your skirt out of his way. He positioned himself between your legs, his tongue licking a painfully slow, sensual strip up your wet folds, collecting the arousal that had begun to gather there. He hummed his lips against you, sending a shockwave through your body as you felt his mouth vibrate on you. A loud whine escaped your parted lips as you placed your palm flat against the table beside you to steady yourself.
“Fuck, Jake!” you cried out as he drew soft circles around your clit with the tip of his tongue. 
“Tastes so fuckin’ good, hun,” he mumbled against your skin before pressing his lips to your clit, sucking at the sensitive nub before pulling away, panting. “So fucking good.”
You could practically feel Jake’s smirk against your skin as he spoke. Your mind raced as he pressed two of his thick, long fingers into your dripping hole, thrusting them into your g-spot with precision and skill. You cried out his name again in the midst of a flurry of moans and curse words, unable to concentrate on anything but the pleasure building within you. 
You felt your thighs begin to tremble and shake as you drew closer to your orgasm, a sign that Jake had picked up on as well. You could feel him smirking against you again for a brief second before he began fucking his fingers into you harder, faster. His lips made contact with your clit again, alternating between hard, powerful sucking and slow, gentle tracing with his tongue. 
“Shit, Jake, fuck,” you managed to get out before you felt your walls clench around his fingers tightly.
“That’s it, you pretty little thing. That’s my girl,” Jake purred as he continued to pump his fingers into your core. 
He pulled them out of you, leaving your arousal dripping from you. You looked down as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with his mouth before pulling them out with a loud pop. He grinned up at your flushed face, a sense of pride in his eyes as he claimed responsibility for the mess he’d made of you.
He stood to his feet, broad hands fiddling with the belt buckle on his jeans while you tried to pull yourself together as best as you could. His belt hit the floor, the sound of the metal buckle clattering against the hardwood echoing through out the house. Jake shimmied out of his jeans and boxers, kicking them off in a desperate frenzy. He stroked his hardened length, a bead of precum forming at the tip. You smirked at him, swiping the white pearl off the head with your thumb before wrapping your hand around his cock, stroking it with just enough pressure. 
Jake grunted and pushed your body against the wall, causing you to let go of him. He roughly grabbed at your thighs, cupping your ass in his hands as he lifted you up, back firmly pressed to the wall. Jake pushed his tip past your swollen folds, groaning as he felt your pussy stretching around him.
“That’s m’girl, making room for me t’fit, huh?” he drawled, refusing to move his hips until you responded. “So tight, honey girl, you feel so fuckin’ good on me.” 
“Jake, please,” you whimpered desperately, hopelessly trying to grind your hips against him to urge him to start thrusting.
“Mhmm? Can’t hear ya, pretty girl. Speak up,” He teased as he pulled himself out of you slowly, leaving just the tip inside of your pulsing cunt. 
“Please, Lieutenant Seresin,” you whined. 
“That’s better, atta girl,” Jake praised as he thrust his hips forward, his cock pounding into you. 
He began to fuck you rhythmically, his hips moving faster and harder, thrusting deeper each time into you. Your walls began to tighten and clench around him, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as you gripped him tightly, screaming his name out. Jake let out a deep growl as he pumped into you, a sign you knew meant that he was getting close. The usually mouthy pilot could easily be reduced to nothing but a grunting, babbling, pussy-drunk mess. 
“Fuck, you feel like fucking heaven, feel so fucking good,” he rambled, his thrusts becoming sloppy and erratic as he came inside of you. 
Breathlessly, he pressed one of his palms flat against the wall as you set your shaking legs back down on the floor. His olive coloured eyes blinked twice, trying to pull himself together. Jake reached a hand up, wiping the sweat beads from his brow before raking his fingers over his flushed, rosy face. He looked at you, a glazed expression in his eyes as he admired you. 
“That’s my girl,” he said calmly, smiling blissfully as he put a hand on your cheek. He lovingly stroked his fingers across your flushed, warm skin before leaning in to kiss your forehead. 
“That’s my girl.”
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poi3104 · 17 hours
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When TGM in Japanese dub was more interesting than any entertainment on your flight. 😌
※ 🇯🇵 sub was likely directing translated from English script while 🇯🇵 dub was more naturally speaking.
Like this scene, dub was マッハ10か、やってやろう (M10? Let's do it!) but sub was very direct from the script.
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Hangman called Mav old timer and Bradley called Mav old man, both translate to おじさん (old man/uncle) in Japanese. It's quite impolite for calling someone older than them.
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Pretending it was conversation between the husbands
アイス: 会いたい
Ice: I miss you
☺️
※会いたい (ai-tai) can be "I miss you" in some context.
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While sub was これは頼みじゃない (This is not a request) but dub was これは命令 (This is an order), it's quite more aggressive 🤭
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And nothing happened here 🙈🙉🙊
#Tom "Iceman" Kazansky Lives
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※ As per JAL information, this version was edited only for their inflight entertainment. It's quite not same with the recent NF release if anyone wants to check it out.
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cannibalhellhound · 2 days
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I have more Selkie au drawings >:D
Baby Jake and Baby Bradley
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JUST TO MAKE IT CLEAR! This is based on Trans! Mav. You can ignore it ig but it might not make sense.
Jake's onesie is not his actual pelt nor pattern in the first picture but it is in the baby sketch.
Bradley is a really small bearded seal with the lanugo (baby coloring and fur) of a ringed seal. This is only because after googling and realizing that bearded seal (Goose) pups are the size of an adult ringed seal (Carole), I was horrified by what I did to poor Carole so now Bradbrad is tiny baby and will grow later.
Jake is a small leopard seal because Ice and Mav's pelts are similar. As a newborn he was lighter and his muzzle black.
Their plushies are their parents first courting gifts. Jake's is a salmon and baby Brad's is a squid (Carole absolutely threw it at Goose and covered him in ink).
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Bonus baby Nat because I keep getting ideas. She's a sea lion.
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sebsxphia · 1 day
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"Hi!" You rush from the kitchen to the foyer with outstretched arms, ready to give your husband the biggest hug.
Jake laughs fondly at your eagerness, waiting for you with open arms.
You barge into him, the impact and the tightness of your embrace knocking a grunt out of him. But he only chuckles, wrapping his arms around you in response, kissing your head, holding you as close as your growing baby bump allows. Just then, he can feel a light hit at his stomach. His smile grows still, and he hears you giggle into his chest.
"Seems like I wasn't the only one who missed you," you tease, pulling back a little to look him in the eyes, yours twinkiling with absolute elation.
"I love you both." He didn't even have to think about the words, no conscious effort was needed for him to say them, they just flew out of his mouth, but they were filled with truth and honesty just as much as if he said each letter with intent.
"We love you more" you say a cheeky, lovestruck smile gracing your lips.
-💚
"I love you both." He didn't even have to think about the words, no conscious effort was needed for him to say them, they just flew out of his mouth, but they were filled with truth and honesty just as much as if he said each letter with intent.
this! this right here! this is wholeheartedly and absolutely jake when you’re pregnant, especially if it’s with your first! your baby isn’t even born yet, but as he watches and feels them grow in your stomach, he knows them already as a whole human. his little human. also, he just loves feeling how they react to you both. it secures that fond thought of knowing that it’s a whole human inside of you. thank you so much for this sweet thought my beloved anon! i needed this today! 🥹💌
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