#and dangling it from her belt loop

[fishnetinsides]

i want to know what lesbian on the saw x team gave mandy that carabiner… they are my HERO

[meamiiikiii]

i will not elaborate further beyond the original notes i had:

these are the type of thoughts i have while eating breakfast ASDASD

[teapartyprincess4two]

Can you make a Latina reader x Matt sturniolo smut? You can make it up how you want it

Lipstick- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Thick!Latina!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: fluff, smut

inspiration: request^^

translations: embedded within the story!

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of Spanish, Hispanic/ Latino culture mentioned, established relationship, slight cursing, traditional parents, mentions of alcohol, didn’t name any of the side characters, long

summary: Matt’s nervous to meet your family, but after making a good impression you treat him to a night full of kisses and lipstick stains.

—

Matt sits in the living room, nervous hands playing with the keys that hang from his belt loop. Your mother keeps him company, sitting on the sofa across from him as she asks him a plethora of personal and uncomfortable questions. Latina mothers are unashamed to prod into the personal life of others, especially when meeting their daughter’s boyfriend for the first time.

You’ve only been dating Matt for a couple of months, and although he seems like a nice kid, she’s not entirely sure she can trust your judgment just yet. The few boys you’ve brought home before haven’t always necessarily met her high standards. Matt hasn’t done anything to throw her off yet, but she’s sure she’ll find something to dislike. If he manages to stick around long enough, though, he’d surely grow on her.

“So what do you do for work?” your mom asks, momentarily looking up from her latest costura project to catch Matt’s anxious gaze. She expertly weaves the string in and out of the white lace, forming an intricate floral design in the process.

[translation: costura- sewing]

“Oh um… my brothers and I we make YouTube videos,” Matt doesn’t know where to look, he’s afraid to make eye contact but also afraid that if he doesn’t it’ll come off as disrespectful. He’s never been so nervous in his life, and from the look on your mother’s face he can tell that that’s probably not what she wanted to hear.

Your mother scoffs, obviously unimpressed with his answer. “Esta niña, siempre saliendo con los más huevones,” she turns her head towards the stairs. Matt’s been waiting for you to descend for over 30 minutes, and the awkward tension was even becoming too much for her.

[translation: “This girl, always going out with the laziest ones.”]

Matt coughs, taking a quick swig of the water bottle in front of him. He’s nervous, his hands are clammy and he has no idea what your mom just said. What was taking you so long?

“So is YouTube gonna pay the bills?” your mom was abrasive and she knew it, but she couldn’t help it. In her eyes, nobody was worthy enough of her babygirl. Matt remains silent, he doesn’t even know what to say, so she continues, “You know, when you two start having kids.”

The thought of having children at 20 years old terrifies Matt beyond belief, he can feel his hands getting clammier by the second. He understands that it’s a cultural dissonance, though, so he keeps his mouth shut. “We’re not planning on any kids soon, ma’am. We haven’t— Um, we haven’t really talked about it,” his voice trembles slightly, your mom was doing a good job of intimidating him.

Matt takes another swig of his water, his mouth was dry and he felt like his throat was closing up. “Oh, but you’re having sex with my daughter right?” the question is so unapologetically bold that it causes Matt to choke on the liquid, some of it managing to dribble down his chin.

“I’m sorry?” he chokes out, but he heard your mom loud and clear.

Finally, as if on queue, Matt hears footsteps coming down the steps. ‘Finally!’ he thinks, watching as your curvy figure rounds the staircase and enters the living room. Matt shoots up from his spot on the couch, his eyes immediately dancing over your entire body.

You’re wearing a fitted, black bodycon dress that reaches just above your knees. The spaghetti straps work to hold your bust in place, a gold necklace dangling delicately above the curves of your breasts. You push your freshly curled hair onto your shoulders, luscious locks framing your face perfectly. White lace-up sneakers adorn your feet, your ankle bracelet glimmering as you walk into the living room.

Matt can’t keep his eyes off of, every aspect of your being pulling him in and putting him in a trance. Your mom notices Matt’s inability to hide his attraction for you, “her eyes are up here!” His face goes beet red, eyes immediately darting up to your face.

You roll your eyes before sending Matt an apologetic smile, “Ya nos vamos, Ma.”

[translation: “We’re leaving, Ma.”]

“Bueno, mi niña. Pórtate bien,” she warns, bringing you in for a strong, warm embrace. Your mom’s change in behavior is so quick it gives Matt whiplash, but he can’t blame her for being standoffish with him. He understands that it’s her mother bear nature.

[translation: “Okay, babygirl. Be good.”]

You kiss your mom on the cheek, your red lipstick staining her face. You turn to Matt with a big, toothy smile sprawled onto your face. “You ready?” you ask, taking his hand in yours as you guide him outside. He nods and hums in response, squeezing your hand as he trails behind you in a lovesick daze. Your ass jiggles with each step and Matt wonders how he ever got so lucky.

“Sorry for taking so long,” you apologize once you’re in the car, getting situated in the passenger seat. “No problem. You look really beautiful,” he replies, starting the car and doing another once over on your body. You lean over the center console with puckered lips, “kiss?” He happily obliges, your red lipstick instantly transferring onto him. His pants are becoming tighter by the second and you notice it right away. Your relationship is still in its infancy, so even this has you blushing.

“Was my mom nice?”

“Mm yeah, some like that,” he replies with a chuckle, adjusting his pants and beginning the drive to your destination. You know he’s lying, but you’re grateful that he’s courteous enough to put up with your mom’s attitude.

“Just wait till you meet my dad and my siblings. They’re not as bad,” you say, the hum of the car engine and the low music in the background creating a calm atmosphere.

“Can’t wait,” he laughs, and although he’s nervous for when that day finally comes, he’s actually excited to become a constant presence in your life. It might be too early to say it, but he’s definitely falling in love with you, the tent in his pants making it obvious as ever.

—

A year has passed since that day and, as expected, your mom has warmed up to Matt. They aren’t super close yet, but she definitely sees him in a different light. She can tell that he truly cares for you and that what you two share is real, but the real test comes when Matt meets your dad.

Your dad works a lot, the manual labor taking a toll on his body that puts him to sleep as soon as he gets home. So, even if your dad is home when Matt’s around, he’s usually asleep or resting in his room.

Matt was nervous when he met your mom, but he’s TERRIFIED to meet your dad. There are so many factors to take into consideration; the language barrier, the cultural dissonance, the fact that he’s your literal dad! It doesn’t help that your siblings are gonna be there too, all of it makes Matt tremble with unease. But he’s been invited to your family’s cookout so he can no longer postpone it.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon. The weather is nice, it’s not too cold or too hot. It’s the perfect day for a cookout, and Matt should feel excited, but he doesn’t. Sweaty hands grip the steering wheel as he anxiously drives to your house. Chris and Nick are being dragged along as moral support, but unlike Matt, they’re not nervous.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you guys. I don’t even think they know I’m a triplet,” Matt’s words are coming out a mile a minute as he places the car in park outside your house. The panic is starting to set, and from the looks of it they’re the first ones here. Usually being on time would make Matt proud, but this just means there will be less people to hide behind.

“Dude, it’s gonna be fine. Plus, maybe Y/n has a cute cousin or something and we can be like brother in laws,” Chris is only half-joking. “Gross,” Nick grimaces, hopping off the car and beginning the short walk to your front door. Chris laughs, copying Nick’s actions and following closely behind.

That just leaves Matt. He’s glued to the front seat, mind racing uncontrollably. If he’s going to do this, it needs to be quick and painless or he’ll just psych himself out. He takes one deep breath in and out, unbuckling himself with such fervor that the seatbelt slaps the door. Once he steps out of the car, he takes a second to anchor himself before jogging to catch up to his brothers, who are already ringing your doorbell.

Three minutes pass and no one has opened the door, so Nick rings the doorbell again. “Allí voy, allí voy!” a voice shouts from inside, the door swinging open aggressively to reveal your little sister.

[translation: “I’m going, I’m going!”]

“Oh it’s just you,” she deadpans, moving aside so they can walk in. She slams the door shut, pushing past the stunned trio until she’s at the foot of the stairs. “Y/n’s upstairs,” she says, waving towards the staircase haphazardly.

“Y/N! YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE HERE!” she shouts up the stairs, the loud outburst taking the triplets by surprise.

Your sister is a good 4 years younger and the complete opposite of you. She’s a thin tomboy, wearing an outfit so oversized that she’s drowning in fabric. Her style directly resembles Chris’s, chunky sneakers adorning her feet and a backwards hat resting atop her long, curly hair. A long gold chain that she stole from your older brother hangs from her neck, swaying back and forth as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her makeup is nicely done and her glossy lips are resting in a smirk, she loved embarrassing you.

“Stop yelling, pendeja!” you shout back, head peering from your doorway. Your sister shoots you an unbothered shrug, turning on her heels and disappearing into the backyard. You descend the stairs, immediately hugging Matt and planting a fat kiss on his lips. Within seconds his lips are the same color as yours, your cherry lipgloss tasting all too familiar.

[translation: pendeja- dumbass (feminine)]

“You guys are early,” you chuckle, pulling away from Matt to greet the other two. “You can blame Matt for that,” Nick says, the four of you walking outside to the backyard patio. The setup is simple but nice, rows of foldable chairs and tables lining the grassy lawn. Coolers are up against the walls of the house, each one filled to the brim with soda, juice pouches, and alcohol.

As Matt is surveying the area, he sees your dad, or at least he thinks he does. A tall, muscular man is working the grill. His shiny, bald head reflects the sun and his tattoos are on full display past the sleeves of his ribbed cotton tank top.

Matt grabs your hand, pulling you back slightly, “Is that your dad?” His voice is hushed, afraid to be heard accidentally.

You follow his gaze, “What? No. That’s my brother.”

An audible sigh of relief escapes Matt, and you instantly clock it, “Don’t worry, babe. Everyone’s gonna love you.” The reassuring words momentarily calm his nerves.

Your older brother’s boisterous voice breaks the moment, “Y/n, go get the rest of the carne from the kitchen!” He’s pinching carne asada, elote, and cebolla off of the grill with long metal tongs, stacking it neatly on a metal tray.

[translation: carne- meat, carne asada- grilled meat, elote- corn, cebolla- onion]

Chris is the first to approach your brother, his friendly nature making it easy for him to talk to new people,“Dude, that smells good!”

Your brother is very kind, his scary appearance completely juxtaposing his hospitable personality. He’s wearing baggy jean shorts and black air forces with a matching gold chain and bracelet. The black sunglasses that rest on his face make him look unapproachable, but the warm smile he offers Nick and Chris makes up for it.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” you quickly peck Matt’s cheek, once again staining his face with your lipstick. Matt hums in response, joining the rest of the men around the grill.

“I feel like I’m seeing triple. I didn’t even know there was three of y’all,” your brother jokes, offering them each a firm handshake. Even though they’ve heard the joke millions of times before the triplets laugh.

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Nick laughs.

“Bet you do. Which of you is dating my sister, though?” your brother asks, but he knows the answer; the red kiss on Matt’s cheek is a dead giveaway.

“That would be this lucky guy,” Nick replies, shaking Matt’s shoulders playfully. Matt’s cheeks burn a bright red and he can’t stop himself from smiling, he truly was lucky. “If the red lipstick on his face doesn’t tell you, then his smile surely will,” Chris chimes in, his finger smudging the makeup on Matt’s face.

Your brother laughs, “Yeah you might wanna wipe that off before el jefe gets back.”

[translation: el jefe- the boss (masculine, a nickname commonly used when referencing one’s father)]

“Oh shit,” Matt mutters, scrambling for a nearby napkin and rubbing it along his face feverishly.

—

An hour has passed and no one else has arrived yet, I guess the triplets didn’t get the memo that Hispanics are almost always fashionably late. Your brother is still working the grill, immersed in an entertaining conversation with Nick about God knows what. Chris, on the other hand, is playing soccer with your sister. He keeps either kicking the ball over the fence or missing it completely, his clumsy actions make your sister laugh uncontrollably.

You sit with Matt at one of the many tables, hands intertwined as you both anxiously await your parents arrival. “He should be back by now,” you mumble, a restless leg bouncing up and down. You knew Matt would make a good first impression on your dad, but you were still nervous.

It’s almost like you summoned him, the familiar sound of your dad’s pickup truck ringing in your ears as he pulls into the driveway. “Is that him?” Matt asks, grip tightening on your palms. “Yeah that’s him. Don’t be nervous, my dad is nice,” you reply, but you’re equally as anxious.

Your dad’s first words do nothing to help your case, you’re just glad Matt can’t understand them, “Vengan a ayudar, huevones!”

[translation: “Come help, lazies!”]

“Lemme go help, you stay here. Okay?”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

“Actually yeah, good idea.”

Matt follows you to the front yard, he’s so beyond nervous that his hands are practically dripping with sweat. Your dad senses Matt’s presence immediately, “Y este pinche güey que?”

[translation: “Who’s this fucking guy?”]

“Pa! No seas feo!” you exclaim, but your dad just rolls his eyes and silently instructs you to unload the truck. He bought more alcohol for the party, because when you’re Hispanic you can never have enough.

[translation: “Pa! Don’t be ugly!”]

“Es tu novio o que?” your dad asks, grunting as he picks up two cases of beer. He rests them on his shoulders with ease, he’s so strong that it intimidates Matt. “Yes, dad. He’s my boyfriend,” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes.

[translation: “Is he your boyfriend or what?”]

Your dad, much like your brother, is also bald. The greatest differences between the two men are the wrinkles that crease near your dad’s eyes when he smiles, his long bushy beard, and his protruding beer belly. “Nice to meet you,” your dad finally directs his attention towards Matt, offering him a genuine smile as his thick accent butchers the words.

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Matt replies, picking up a case of alcohol as to make himself useful. Your dad can tell that Matt’s nervous, and even though he doesn’t like the idea of you dating, he decides to take it easy on him. He’s heard stories about Matt from your mom and by the way you look at him, your dad knows he’s the one.

As your dad enters the backyard, absolutely shocked to see Chris and Nick. Never in his life has he met a twin, let alone triplets, “Ay güey! Hay tres? No chingues, creo que me mareé.” Everyone, except for the triplets who have no idea what’s going on, laughs at your dad’s statement.

[translation: “Oh shit! There’s three? Fuck, I think I just got dizzy.”]

“I think he likes you,” you shrug, a sly smile playing on your face. Matt suddenly feels confident, all the nerves washing away.

—

As the hours pass, the party becomes less innocent as everyone becomes more and more inebriated. Matt’s chatting with some of your uncles and cousins, a cold beer resting in his hands. He’s been nursing the same bottle all night, only sipping from it occasionally.

You’re on the opposite end of the lawn, sitting at a table with your chismosa cousin. “Your man is so handsome, prima. If you find another one like that, send him my way.”

[translation: chismosa- gossiper (feminine), prima- cousin (feminine)]

“He does have a brother,” you joke, eyes still trained on Matt. You needed to get him alone in the house, away from prying eyes.

You could think of so many actual reasons you needed him right now, though. First, he was being such a gentleman with your family. He introduced himself and made small talk despite the evident language barrier. Secondly, when you served him a plate, he finished it faster than you’ve ever seen him eat anything. Then, when he got up for seconds, he moaned as the delicious flavors melted in his mouth.

Everyone loved him, and for whatever reason that turned you on. The longer you looked at him, the wetter you became. You’re clenching your thighs together, the sheer thought of him making you squirm. Before you know it, you’re excusing yourself from your cousin and walking up to Matt with a random excuse as to why you need him inside.

“Hey is everything okay?” Matt whispers, hands resting on your hips. His head is crooked down towards you, lips capturing yours briefly before resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, just missed you,” your breathy words fan his lips as you place a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth and travel them down his neck.

Although he welcomes the feeling, you’re both standing in the kitchen and if anyone were to walk in they’d catch the intimate moment. That’s the last thing he wanted, especially not after making a good first impression, “not here, baby.”

You pout, completely retracting yourself from Matt, “okay.”

“No, wait. I said not here,” he pulls you back in as he looks around the house in search of another secluded area, not wanting to completely abandon your touch.

“Then where?” your voice is sultry and inviting.

“Outside?” it’s the first thing that comes to Matt’s mind, and the suggestion breaks you from the mood.

“Outside, Matt? Really? Like what, like a dog?” you have a dumbfounded look on your face, almost like you can’t believe he even suggested it.

“No, like, in my car,” he dangles the keys in front of your face before pulling you back in for a heated kiss.

The kiss seems to convince you because he’s successfully leading you to his car. The street is dark, only illuminated by a few street lamps, but you find it with ease.

You fumble into the backseat, Matt following behind you giddily. “We have to be quick, okay?” you whisper, pulling Matt in for another kiss by the collar.

“You know I like taking my time with my girl,” you can hear the smirk in his voice, a playful scoff falling from your lips. You scoot further into the back seat, making room for Matt as he situates himself between your legs.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he brushes a stray curl away from your face, a gentle hand caressing your cheek. “Hmm yes, but I could hear it again,” you turn your face, kissing his palm.

“You look beautiful today,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss. You mould into each other, your lips fitting perfectly against his. Matt grinds himself down on you, momentarily breaking from you long enough for you to feather kisses along his neck.

With each kiss comes an affirmation, “I’m. So. Proud. Of. You.” It’s too dark to see, but you’re leaving lipstick marks all over him. The praises send blood rushing to his dick as you continue, “You did so good, papi. Just like I knew you would.”

[translation: papi- daddy (bear with me ppl)]

“Yeah? How good?” he eggs you on, relishing in all your sweet words. His hands push your dress up, the fabric scrunching up around your hips to reveal the red lace panties you wore underneath. Matt swears he’s in heaven.

“You did perfect…” your words trail off as you watch Matt remove your underwear in a daze. “How about you show me how good I did?” he grabs your waist, flipping you both over so you’re on top. You let out an excited squeal, your bare cunt coming in contact with his rough denim jeans. His dick is straining against the fabric, begging for release.

You grind onto his clothed penis, one hand resting on his chest as the other pushes your hair out of your face. Matt’s hands instinctively find your hips, a firm grip guiding your swiveling motions.

“Tell me how you want me, baby.”

“Ride me?”

As soon as he says it, you’re wiggling down onto his thighs and unbuckling his pants. Your fingers dance along his erection, teasingly tracing it. Matt bites his lip at the sight, “Please don’t tease.”

“So polite,” you giggle, finally tugging his pants down. His dick slaps against his stomach, the swollen tip already dripping with precum. Your thumb runs across the tip, spreading the lubrication along his shaft.

Matt’s a whimpering mess, propped onto his elbows to get a better view of you. When his hips subconsciously buck into your hand you decide to stop teasing and situate yourself above his crotch, dragging his penis along your wet folds before positioning it right at your entrance.

You’re going so slow, too slow, so Matt decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs handfuls of your ass, pushing you down onto his dick with force. “Matt!” you gasp, the delicious stretch sending you into overdrive.

He doesn’t respond, instead he pushes and pulls your hips so that you’re bouncing on his cock. Your breasts are jiggling rhythmically, threatening to spill out of your dress. Animalistic grunts fill the car as Matt watches your pussy wrap around him, his jaw is slack and his eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure. Your soft whimpers and moans motivate him to keep going.

“You like that?” The car is rocking with the intensity of your movements, windows becoming foggier and foggier with each breathy moan that escapes your lips.

“Yes!” your voice is high pitched and squeaky, the pleasure choking you up. “Use your words, pretty girl,” he grunts, feeling the familiar wave of pleasure approaching.

“It’s so good, papi. So, so, so good,” you babble, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. Your pussy is fluttering around him, the sensation bringing Matt closer to his breaking point.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers, large hands squeezing the skin around your hips so hard that it was sure to bruise. You place loving kisses all over his face, especially on his cheeks and the corners of his mouth.

“I love you,” you moan, chanting his name again and again right after. He’s thrusting up into you feverishly, his pace faltering slightly as you both near your climax. “I love you too, princess. So much,” his voice is strained, strong arms wrapping around your waist and holding you in place as he shoots his warm load into you. His affirmations send you into a state of euphoria as your orgasm washes over you.

He’s peppering kissing all over your chest, whimpers escaping his lips as he comes down from his high. You delicately push his hair off of his sweaty forehead, admiring him as he continues his gentle attack on your chest.

“We should probably get back, babe. They’ll be wondering where we are,” you whisper, but he doesn’t want to let go. He wants to stay like this with you forever.

“Let me enjoy this a little longer,” he murmurs, hooded eyes finally looking up at you. Your lipstick is smudged all over your mouth. “Aww baby, your lipstick is all messed up. You look so cute,” he laughs, attempting to wipe some it off but failing.

He shifts slightly, the streetlights briefly managing to illuminate his handsome face. Your kiss marks are all over, a clear visual representation of how much you love him.

“You’re wearing more of it than I am,” you joke, earning yourself a playful slap on the ass.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: clearly I couldn’t just write a smut right? Lmaoooo idk I had all the characters in my brain & it couldn’t just be smut 😭 hope u enjoy

This is so different from anything I’ve written before so lmk how yall like it & if you enjoy having Spanish in stories w/ the translations in the story💃🏻 also don’t kill me for using papi, i’d gladly call my man papi any day 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[carolmunson]

come get me, come love me (older!modern!eddie)

part four of who knows how many. orange colored sky set list surprise chapter, bitches. after we got rained out at the park, we finish our date at eddie's apartment in prospect heights, things heat up despite the storm. inspired by @loveshotzz older steve series: all i really want is you (see if you can spot the easter egg in this lil chapter.) tw: age gappy (reader is late 20s/early 30s, eddie is late 30s/early 40s), kissin', reader wears eddie's clothes but there's no body description songspiration: lovesick | banks

The door to the building is wedged between a restaurant and a pet store on a long street of bars and places to eat. You’ve been down here plenty of times, the ramen spot closer to the end of the street is to die for, and one of the ice cream shops is the best in this part of the city. He unhooks the carabiner from his belt loop and hurries the key into the heavy iron grate door before bumbling into the wooden one behind it.

“Whew!” he says when you both get inside, wiping some of the rain from his face. He leads you up the stairs to the second floor and down the small hallways. “Both doors are mine, but this is the front door,” he smiles, kicking his shoes off at the mat off to the side. You do the same. “Sorry if it’s a little messy,” he says, keys jingling in his hands while he opens the door, “Maid took the week off.”

You snort when you follow him inside but he looks at you over his shoulder, “No, seriously. It was her son’s birthday on Sunday so I told her not to come in. I try to keep it together for the most part, but – I don’t know, Sasha gives it a special somethin’ I’ve never been able to do on my own.” 

It’s a little stunning, his apartment. And when you think a little you mean a lot, a floor and a half with a metal spiral staircase that separates the open concept kitchen from the living room, dining room hybrid on the wall closest to the door. Oak floors that look newly shined, a big and deep sectional closing off the space so a dining room table and chairs could be placed on the other half of the room. Even the exposed brick on the back wall looks like it was just put in. His hand rests on your back while he guides you up to the next floor, the metal cold on your bare feet, shivering against the coolness of the central air whooshing through the place.

“If you want I can give you something comfy to wear and throw your stuff in the laundry,” he says when you make it to the top, opening the door, “Bathroom is just around the corner.”

“You have in-unit laundry?” you ask with a breathy sigh.

“I know, I’m so dreamy,” he winks, “You gonna take me up on my offer? There’s towels in there already.”

“Sure,” you take off the linen shirt and pass it to him, “I’ll be right out.” 

The bathroom is small-ish but well put together, it looks like he had it gutted and redone to be more modern, navy blue marbled tiles in the shower with gunmetal hardware – he has an eye, you figure. You open one of the cabinets to see dark blue towels folded and fluffy, waiting for you. The image that meets you in the mirror makes you frown when you wipe your face off – a wet rat with mascara running down her cheeks, blush and lipgloss long faded. You sigh and do your best to wash off your face with what you can, peeling off your wet layers and keeping them on the counter.

“Wanna swap?” he asks while knocking on the door. You ball up your wet clothes, holding the towel up against your chest while you open the door a sliver, easing them out into his waiting hand. You can’t see him but you hear his little snicker while he pushes the dry clothes into your open palm. “You got it?” he asks. “I got it,” you say, balancing them into the room and shutting the door quietly. “Let me know if you want something different,” he offers. You shake out the folded clothes, big black sweatpants and an old, soft band tee. Corroded Coffin spelled out in jagged letters on the front with a marionette dangling from a demonic clawed hand on the back. “This is fine,” you say, slipping them on, “What band is this?”  “It’s mine,” he says. You can hear his footsteps walking away from the bathroom while he talks, “Told you I was a rockstar!” 

When you’re fully changed into his sweats and shirt you emerge from the bathroom, padding out of the tiles in socked feet. You can hear him downstairs putting the leftover snacks into the fridge and freezer from the cooler. Like the sleuth you are, you take in what you can to learn more about him, inching down the short hallway and peeking into one of the rooms. His bedroom looks like a bachelor’s – not in the way a guy in their twenties would have it, but it’s clear he wants to semi impress whoever he’s taking home. You admire the coziness of the space: wrought iron bed frame – likely a vintage thrift find or thousands of dollars. Dark bedding with knit blankets at the foot of the mattress, a dark green rug under the bed atop the oak floors. His walls are littered with framed photos of him with people you don’t know. Show posters under glass from the 90s, some vintage posters from the 70s. It smells like cedar and a nice hotel lobby candle, manly and unassuming. His dressers are a deep walnut wood that compliment the floors with ease – he did say he had an eye for color. Your eyes wander, looking towards the doors of a walk in closet, more art on the walls. A beautiful baroque style mirror that looks straight out of a gothic mansion leaning heavy in the corner. However, you feel heat rush to your cheeks when, slightly hidden, you see two sets of handcuffs dangling off a small hook by one of his bedside tables. 

“Find anything interesting, Nancy Drew?” 

His low rumble makes you jump, turning to see him leaning against the wall of the hallway with his arms crossed. You breathe out a nervous giggle, “Sorry, was just seeing the place. Your room is nice.” 

“Thank you,” he nods, “I just got it redecorated — got a friend who's a killer interior designer.” 

“I bet you got a friend for everything,” you say, meeting him in the hallway where he opens the door to the next room. It's dark, covered in squares of soundproofing foam. A few different guitars hang from the wall above a big desk with three monitors, computer below whirring in a low hum. 

“I do,” he says, “We exchange a lot of favors. This is where I work from for the most part. Laundry is just a closet next to the bathroom. And uh…you saw downstairs, so I guess that’s the tour.” “It’s a really, really nice spot,” you confess, heading back down the spiral staircase, “Super good location, too.” “It wasn’t when I landed here in ‘04,” he leans on the railing at the top step looking down at you, “But you were prob’ly learnin’ fractions back then.” “You’re annoying,” you cross your arms at the bottom stairs staring up at his boyish grin, he winks again – your legs are jello. “I’m gonna change real quick, I made you a cup of coffee – there’s creamer in the fridge if you need it,” he calls out before disappearing from the staircase to change. You go to the fridge where there’s a litter of polaroids stuck to the stainless steel – most of them of a German Shepherd puppy posed with him and another guy, clean cut, nothing like Eddie.

“Whose the cute dog?” you ask when you hear his footsteps against the metal.   

“Oh that’s my nephew, his name’s Bandit,” he says, pulling a shirt over his head while he makes it back down the spiral staircase. Your eyes linger on the tattoos on his chest, trailing down his obliques, “The dog, not the guy in the pictures.” “I figured.” “That’s my buddy Steve, he’s like my brother. I was out in Chicago for a couple months helping him get his shit back on track – we got him a puppy to keep his mind off things,” Eddie snorts, watching you pour some cream into your mug. You offer to do so for him but he shakes his head, taking it from you to put back in the fridge. “Is he okay?” 

“His wife just passed away,” he says quietly. You offer him a sad face and he shrugs in that ‘What can you do?’ kind of way that guys do when they don’t know what to say, “You clothes should be all set in an hour or so.” “Oh, and then you’re kickin’ me out?” you tease, drinking your coffee up against the counter. He smirks, running his palm over the scratchy scruff of his chin and jaw. “Nah, not at all. You can stay as long as you want,” he shakes his head, his curls already starting to dry around his face – big and defined now with the summer rain, “Just didn’t think you’d wanna hang out at some old man’s house all afternoon.” “See, I was thinking how fun it would be to clear you out of your Raisin Bran,” you smirk against the lip of your mug while he makes his way towards you. He crosses his arms, taking slow steps before he’s got you caged in against the counter. If your nose knows, he definitely spritzed a spray of his cologne before he made it back down stairs – dark, spicy sandalwood enveloping you with a whisper of laundry detergent. 

“I’m almost out, actually,” he grins, lids half closing while he looks down into your eyes, “But it’s okay, I have an unopened box of Kashi multigrain in one of these cabinets somewhere.” He waits for your next dig, knowing it’s coming by the quirk in your lips – you’re full of them today. “Gotta keep that blood pressure in check,” you tease again, trying to keep yourself from smiling as he leans in, a deep short chuckle coming from his throat. You little brat, it sounds like.  “It’s really good for your heart health, actually,” he corrects, brows raising a little. A smirk flits across his full lips when he watches you falter a little, your pretty eyes glazing and glassy while he looms over you. His voice gets low and smoky, just like his cologne, “Maybe you could learn a thing or two from me, hm?”

You shut your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek – you can’t show him how good he’s getting you right now, not so soon, “Oh totally, like what the best pill cases are for my future arthritis medicine.” He laughs, the soft crows feet around his eyes crinkling with it. It’s a barking laugh, quick and sharp – you’re sharp, he likes that, “I can definitely do that.” His nose brushes yours and you brace yourself for what’s coming next, ready to feel him kiss you. To feel the buzz of his hands on you like how they were when he led you inside, when he put his hand on your hands in the park. His lips ghost above yours, breath fanning over your face while you take a final one before the inevitable. “You’ve got a quick mouth there, kleine,” he says smoothly. He reaches around you to grab his own mug of coffee, taking a long sip. Eddie catches the miniscule drop of your shoulders, a silent win goes off in his head. You want him to kiss you so bad and that makes him feel like a million bucks – fuck that – a trillion bucks. 

He steps back, taking a sip of his coffee while the apartment gets a little darker, the storm rolling further in. “What’s ‘kleine’?” you ask, trying to regain your breath. He smiles, walking over to the dimmer on the wall and easing the lights up to a warm glow. “It’s German,” he says, looking over his shoulder, “Loosely translates to baby girl.” “You know German?” you ask, trying to not let the translation send you directly into outer space. You watch him with his coffee cup make his way over to the sectional in his open living space. It’s big and inviting, covered in a sea of throws that it looks like he collected over the years. He plops down, tilting his head toward the seat next to him to encourage you over. “I did an extended run of Cabaret in Jersey like – pffft, I don’t know, a million years ago,” he shrugs, putting his coffee on the table in front of him while you plop yourself down on the deep, squishy cushions. You swallow hard when a waft of his cologne hits you again, trying your hardest not to crawl onto his lap to take him in. 

“Saw the show in ‘98 with Alan Cumming, lost my mind – I mean, really transformative for an 18 year old I guess. Years later when I moved out here I saw there was auditions for it and just got knee deep in that shit, taught myself German and everything to make it sound more authentic,” he looks forward wistfully while he recounts the story, smiling at you when he comes back to himself, “Was very helpful when I went to Berlin a few years later.” 

“Oh, how was that?” you ask, “Did you have fun? I’ve never been to Europe.” 

“I’d tell you about all the fun I had if I could remember it,” he grins,flopping his arm up over the back of the couch, beckoning you closer. “C’mere, honey,” he says, the quiet of his voice putting you at ease. You scooch closer to him while he pulls one of the blankets from the end of the chaise cushion and wraps it around your shoulders. With the blanket comes his arm with no hesitation, his hand resting on your shoulder and then down to your waist. “I like to marathon the Twilight Zone when it gets shitty out like this,” he explains, “You down?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, “I’m down. I’ve seen a couple handfuls of episodes.” 

“Yeah? What’s your favorite?” “Hm,” you think, “I think The Monsters are Due on Maple Street. It’s the first one I ever watched.”  “We’ll start with that one, then.” He operates everything from an app on his phone, it surprises you that you’re not as techy as he seems to be. It’s not long before the episode starts and his hold on you becomes more intentional, more cuddly. Thunder booms overhead when the episode gets more intense, making you embarrassed when you jolt. He giggles at you, pulling you in closer – a soft whisper of I got you leaves his lips, you barely hear it.  You snuggle up together while the episode ends and another starts, you tilt your head up toward him, “What’s your favorite?”

“Ooh, good question,” he smirks, “I think The Hitchhiker – it was the first one my uncle ever showed me when I started living with him. Scared the shit out of me.”

“You? Scared?” you quirk a brow, looking down at the way he holds you – assured, confident, “You don’t seem like someone who gets scared very often.” 

“That’s the old age, peach,” he chuckles out, low and rumbly, “All that Raisin Bran, really switches up that fight or flight.” When you laugh he looks down at you, eyes sparkling, noses close together, “Is that funny?” “Yeah, it’s funny,” you say back just as quietly, adjusting yourself a little closer to him, “You’re funny.” His eyes flick down to your lips and then back up, you feel his hand spread out on your waist while he leans in closer, pressing up against you. 

“Just funny?” he asks, watching your eyes flutter closed and then open. His lips ghosting over yours, edge of his bottom lip skating over the curve of your cupid’s bow. 

“No, not just…” you breathe, too intoxicated by how close he is, how his lips and breath tease you. His hand glides up from your waist, trailing a fingertip up the side of your neck, stopping under your chin. You shiver at the touch, goosebumps flooding your arms and legs, belly flipping in somersaults. He tilts your head up, his cocking slowly to the side while his watches for your reaction.

“The show’s about to come back on.” The words are soft and quiet when they leave your mouth, your last ditch effort while fear and excitement roar in your ears. His eyes feel like magnets that you’re constantly pulled too, locking with them while he leans in.

“It’s a boring episode,” he grumbles out quietly from behind a smirk, eyes closing while the tip of your nose is brushed with his. He teases one last time before his lips press warmly against yours, parting slightly to capture them.  You breathe in sharp through your nose, butterflies fluttering and slamming against your chest for release. His hands come up to lay themselves against your cheeks, now hot with excitement while they find home behind your head and neck. He’s fiending for you in the insatiable way he’s felt before, the way a man fiends for a woman.

His leads, taking control of the way the kiss moves with each tilt of his head, changing the intensity each time he breaks away to breathe and come back to you. His lips are full and plush, a soft pink that works for him, it’s almost innocent, when you know he’s anything but. He comes in again, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently to encourage you to let his tongue slide into your mouth. 

His hands greedily pull you in by the waist now that your tongues are brushing, wrapping up together with no space between. You whimper into it, unable to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay with his other hand roams down your back. You feel his lips stretch into a smile against yours, a growl of a chuckle coming out of his chest when he pulls away again. More kisses, soft and sweet with eyes closed, noses nuzzling before lips meet again. You climb onto his lap, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you – tight and protective. You lead this time, a hand coming up to cup his jaw while you kiss, taking his bottom lip between your teeth this time. He relents, grip softening on you, fingertips grazing the tops of your thighs over the material of his sweatpants. Your hips roll forward over his and he pulls away.

“Steady now, sugar,” he warns, looking up at you with heavy lidded brown eyes, “I don’t fuck on the first date.” You pout a little, he likes that face, “You got some kind of moral code, old man?” “M’just not that kind of girl, baby,” he shrugs lightly, taking your hand and pressing soft kisses to your fingertips. His eyes don’t leave yours, big and innocent – like he’s challenging you, “Gotta keep you wantin’ more of me.” You can’t imagine not wanting more of him, no matter how much he gave you. “Then how come you kiss me like that?” you ask, his lips still leaving pillowy kisses against your fingers, “Like you’re hungry for me?” 

“Oh, I am hungry, peach,” he smirks, tongue sliding out and gliding up the space between your first and middle finger. The tip of his tongue flicks the pads of them at the top, before taking just your fingertips into his mouth for a moment – hot and wet. Your mouth hangs open, drool collecting under your tongue at the feeling – imagining it happening exactly where you both want it to. “I think we should cut into that icebox cake,” he offers with a smile, like he didn’t just tease you into complete stupidity, “That’ll solve my problem.” He kisses your cheek as he guides you off his lap to get up, feeling lucky that he put on boxer briefs to keep his now painful erection contained – though his sweatpants left little to the imagination. Eddie comes back with two plates with heaping slices of dessert, passing you a spoon while you try your best to calm down. 

“You okay?” he asks sweetly, brushing a stray hair out of your face. You nod, shoving a bite into your mouth so you don’t scream over his gentle touch and soft eyes. So you don’t yell and stomp through his living room about how bad you want him to bring you upstairs and eat you out. So you don’t tell him about the butterflies. You eat, watch, and talk – getting stories on his tattoos, you tell him about how you just started living alone, he tells you all the best spots to get furniture. You share soft little kisses while cuddled under blankets, laughing at the bad special effects and talking about the good special effects for the 60s as the episodes continue on. You fall asleep on his shoulder and he lets out a big deep breath – he likes that you already feel comfortable enough to do so. He swallows hard, doing his best to settle down his own butterflies. 

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[thedroneranger]

Pages In-between

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Synopsis: Mrs. Seresin is a hard person to surprise. However, stealing a page from her book, Jake may have managed to catch his wife off guard.

Notes: Here is entry one of two for @roosterforme's '80s Rocktober challenge! The song is Centerfold by J. Geils Band. Part of the To-do List collection.

Warnings: 18+ only; smut.

Word count: 3.8k.

Mrs. Seresin did a little happy dance as she stuck the key in the lock and opened the door of her PO box. This was the last time she would have to stop by the post office to pick up her business mail. A smile pulled her lips as she cradled all the mail in one hand and locked the box with the other.

She was also delighted by the thought of all her sample books and design digests moving to her new studio. Now, she and Jake had more room for collector edition novels and travel tchotchkes in their home office. Jake was returning tonight from a week-long training and had promised to help pack. He might’ve been more excited than her that she was finally getting a studio. 

Jake never stood in the way of her career, but he did voice his opinion about her need for more separation between work and home. Yes, she had an office—they technically shared the space—but sometimes work spilled into other areas of the house. And Jake knew she was overworking when he was away.

Today’s mail drop was sizable and included a few new sample books. A couple of her monthly subscriptions also arrived. She’d have time to thoroughly sort when she got home. Jake wasn’t due back until later.

Once home, she parked in the garage and was greeted by Ruck when she entered the house. She spent a few minutes loving him before going upstairs to change. Ruck on her heels, she returned to the garage to get the mountain of mail. Back inside, she stood at the kitchen island and sorted.

A sample book for a new tile company’s latest collection. The wallpaper samples a client requested. Pantone’s interiors collection for the new year. New editions of Dwell and Architectural Digest. The last piece of mail was wrapped in an opaque poly plastic bag. Going for ease, she fished scissors out of the drawer beside her and sliced off the crimp.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said aloud as she pulled a glossy magazine out of the wrapper. Staring back at her was a shirtless Jake, wearing Wranglers with his thumbs hooked in the belt loops. He donned his favorite Stetson and had a toothpick dangling from his lips. The title Flyboy was printed above his head in a font that mimicked the infamous Playboy.

A smile plastered on her face, she sighed as she flipped it open. As tempted as she was to immediately look at the centerfold, she browsed the articles and features first. Jake put a lot of thought into Flyboy—from the photos to the articles and down to the barcode, which included their wedding date.

Now she understood why she’d been banned from his calendar photoshoot.

Every year, the Lemoore-based strike fighter squadrons competed to raise money for charity. By New Year’s Eve each year, the squadrons were expected to present a check for at least $12,000 to the charity of their choice. The three years previous, Jake’s squadron, the VFA-151 Vigilantes, had at least doubled the minimum expected donation. The squadron’s creative approaches to raising funds not only brought in a lot of money but made them the reigning champions. 

Over the years, the Seresin became a staple in the competition. Year 1, Mrs. Seresin pitched the Commander to allow the Vigilantes to participate in a date auction. The night was memorable not only because the squadron raised $64,000, but also because Mrs. Seresin got into a bidding war with the Commander’s ex-wife over Jake. The victor, she got kudos from the Commander for putting his pain-in-the-ass ex in her place.

The following year, Jake suggested weekend car washes from Memorial Day to Labor Day. The weekends he and Mrs. Seresin volunteered were always the highest grossing. When Mrs. Seresin couldn’t join him, he was sure to send her pictures of him and the rest of the squad posing in black triangle bikini tops.

For Year 3, the squadron was cleared to host an air show. It got so much publicity that the Navy decided its official demo squadron, the Blue Angels, would participate. Obsessed with the Blue Angels as a child, Jake nearly blacked out when he was presented with an honorary patch for flying alongside them.

No one thought the Vigilantes would be able to top the air show for Year 4. However, inspired by an anniversary gift from his wife, Jake proposed a calendar. Twelve months, 12 pilots. After the initial laughter, everyone was sold.

When Jake told his Mrs. Seresin, she immediately sprung into action to assist. By the time Jake left for work the next morning, she had secured a pro bono photographer and had plans to dress the sets and pilots. Jake knew his wife was a force, but she never ceased to amaze him. She had to shoo him out of the house before he was late for work, because he was showering her in physical gratitude. 

Mrs. Seresin couldn’t help but smile as she thought about all the late nights and takeout. Ann, her long-time friend, agreed to be the photographer and de facto assistant art director. Mrs. Seresin and Ann had staged and shot so many home and business interiors together, they lost count. They were excited to tackle a new frontier.

However, Mrs. Seresin did not get to conquer the frontier that was Jake in front of the camera. When he asked her to not attend his shoot because he wanted to surprise her, she choked down her disappointment and respected his wishes. 

However, her disappointment was in the rearview mirror the minute she saw Jake’s photo at the reveal party. Clad in just his dress whites pants, Jake’s megawatt smile lit the image while he kneeled alongside Ruck. Tongue lolling out of his mouth, Ruck was also smiling at the camera. 

To top it off, Jake was the pilot for December, Mrs. Seresin’s birthday month. “An early birthday gift,” Jake called it as he hugged her to his side and kissed her temple. 

That night was for Jake and the rest of the squad, but Mrs. Seresin felt like the real winner.

After its release, the Vigilante calendar took social media by storm. It was easily their most successful campaign, raking in over six figures. And of course, Jake and Ruck became everyone’s favorite duo. 

Although Jake wasn’t on social media, and Mrs. Seresin kept her social footprint strictly business, the internet sleuths still found them. Fortunately, they were respectful of their boundaries. Even more surprising, learning Jake was married and that Ruck was Mrs. Seresin’s dog just made folks swoon harder.

An hour after opening the mail, Mrs. Seresin was tucked on the couch, wine in hand, and reading Flyboy cover to cover. Ruck laid at her feet and lifted his head every now and then to confirm her noises weren’t duress.

Mrs. Seresin held the magazine sideways to take in the centerfold in all its glory. Jake was standing naked in the foreground of a hangar with his helmet perfectly positioned to keep the photo modest and have his call sign on full display. His signature smile, sandwiched between deep dimples, added to the cheekiness of the missing vowels on his helmet. She couldn’t help but smile.

Jake knew the magazine arrived today. His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he thought about her reading it. It wasn’t the pictures he was nervous about, it was the pages in between. 

Curating Flyboy was a trip down memory lane for Jake. He spent time scrolling through their shared memories and writing his perspective of their adventures. It was fun, and he even decided to start a journal.

Jake was confident the magazine caught her off guard. His birthday plan was unfolding perfectly. He was hoping his outfit, his flight suit, was the second punch of a one-two celebration combination. The cherry on top was riding shotgun: a half dozen her favorite donuts. 

Since her birthday was two days after Christmas, Jake vowed to keep her birthday separate from the holidays. To honor that, he always celebrated with her in early December. More used to having her birthday swept under the rug, it was the first time in their relationship Jake was able to surprise her.

The truck headlights lit the closed garage door as Jake pulled into the driveway. Once parked, he slipped out of the vehicle and prepared for Mrs. Seresin’s three-legged protector, Ruck, to greet him. Inside, while Jake shed his things at the door, Ruck nosed the donut box. Jake had bought a doggie donut so Ruck could celebrate, too. Package inspected and approved, Ruck led the way to the living room. 

Mrs. Seresin was flipping through what Jake assumed was his magazine. She glanced up to find him swaggering over in his flight suit—the top tied around his waist—and a black t-shirt, holding a box. “Hey, flyboy.” Her voice was sultry. “Or should I say coverboy.” Jake couldn’t help but smile, and she mirrored his expression. 

“Happy birthday, baby.” He flipped open the box. Her face lit up as she stood to get a donut. Jake watched as she selected her favorite and happily took a huge bite. While she chewed it, she turned the pastry to feed Jake. He obliged. 

She tucked a couple fingers in the waist of his flight suit and led him to the couch. Jake placed the donuts on the coffee table and traded her donut for Ruck’s treat. She smiled and fed it to him. Jake’s heart swelled at how gentle Ruck was with her. She finished her donut nestled under Jake’s arm with Ruck’s head in her lap. She fed Jake the last bite. After swallowing, he leaned in to plant a sugary kiss on her lips and murmur one more “happy birthday”.

“Can I unwrap my present?” She smirked at him.

Jake grinned. “You already did.” He tipped his head toward the magazine on the table. Mrs. Seresin leaned forward to grab the magazine, and then returned to her spot under Jake’s arm. Casually, she flipped the pages. “Do you like it?” Jake questioned.

“Love it,” she quickly answered. She looked at him with the biggest smile. He leaned down again and pressed his lips to hers. “So thoughtful. So personal. So hot,” she said between kisses. “But you really didn’t drive home in your suit flight for me?” Her lips pulled into a pout. “I know this is a clean suit. You don’t reek of jet fuel.” Jake wordlessly responded, his bottom lip disappeared behind his teeth as he smiled.

“What was your favorite article?” Jake asked, unfazed.

“Ruck’s, of course.” Jake scrunched his nose at her. She chuckled and returned to lazily flipping the pages. “I also liked reminiscing about our honeymoon. You picked some exclusive photos.” Jake flashed a toothy grin as she looked back at him. He had included some photos he took of Mrs. Seresin on the private yacht they stayed on for their French Riviera honeymoon.

His personal favorite was her draped nude on a deck lounge chair with her legs butterflied while she pleasured herself—her hand tastefully covered her core. “I’d love to recreate some of those by the pool,” he responded. 

“Mhmm,” Mrs. Seresin replied, still flipping through the magazine. “Or on another yacht. We do have a milestone anniversary coming up,” she reminded him. Jake responded by placing a kiss to her temple.

“Your photos were nice, too,” she added, making eye contact with him and sticking her tongue out. He squeezed her closer and tried to playfully catch her tongue but captured her bottom lip instead. She leaned into the kiss, bringing a hand to the side of his face. Carefully, Jake removed the periodical from her lap as she slid onto his. 

Straddling him, she cradled his face in her hands as she deepened the kiss. Magazine safely on the coffee table, Jake slipped his hands under her shirt—one of his Academy shirts—and his thumbs dipped into the waistband of her bike shorts to rub the soft skin of her lower belly. His thumbs circled lower and confirmed his suspicion—no panties. 

She rolled her pelvis into his as she kissed him harder. He moaned, and Mrs. Seresin thought she might come right then. She pulled away, mouth agape, and sat back on his lap. “Get this off.” She demanded as she helped strip him of his t-shirt. “Just like the magazine.” She referred to the picture of Jake shirtless with his flight suit tied around his waist. In the photo his suit was so dangerously low that, with his thumb hooked in the roll, you could see his tiny “Bite me” tattoo. 

She rubbed herself all over Jake as they continued to make out. Jake’s hands alternated between squeezing her ass and wandering up her shirt. He quickly learned she wasn’t wearing a bra and was doing his best to coax her out of her top. 

She whined and tangled her fingers in his locks, pulling his head back and breaking their kiss. “I want to feel more of your skin.” Jake punctuated his statement by palming her ass.

“It’s not your birthday, you don’t get to make demands.” She ground herself more in his lap, making him groan.

“Not a demand, just a suggestion,” Jake responded. She loosened her grip on him, allowing him to dip his head toward her chest. She watched as he found one of her taut nipples through the fabric. Gently, he tugged it with his teeth. She bit her bottom lip as she enjoyed the sensation. 

“Jake.” She drew out his name as her head tipped back. He switched to the other nipple. “Fuck.” She quickly ripped her shirt overhead, and he gladly mouthed her bare chest. As he licked and sucked and massaged, she found a rhythm rolling her pelvis against his.

Mrs. Seresin slowly halted her hips and curled her fingers back into Jake’s hair to pull him away from her chest. Jake looked up at her—lips puffy and cheeks a little flush. He whined when she wiggled out of his lap. 

She stood and slowly began to slide off her bike shorts as she sauntered out of his reach. She even turned so he could see her tattoo appear on the swell of her backside as she slowly slid the fabric down. Once her shorts were around her ankles, she stepped out of them. 

“C’mon, coverboy.” Back still to Jake, she come-hithered him over her shoulder as she strutted away. Jake immediately knew where she was leading him. He practically jumped off the couch and ran after her. She squealed when his arm snaked around her middle, and he carried her sideways into their office. 

There were boxes—half full, empty, flat packed—strewn around the room. Otherwise, the office was in its usual decadence. The floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out to the secluded backyard, letting the moonlight flood the space.

Jake marched past their desk, over to the windows and set Mrs. Seresin on her feet. He soaked in her naked form as he held her until she was steady. Jake was distracted by her curves illuminated in the night light. She got his attention back by tugging on his arm as she turned to face him. Jake made eye contact with her as his hands continued to traverse her body. He could feel the incremental movements of her muscles. 

“You ok?” She asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved a stray lock of hair away from his face. 

Jake engulfed her in his arms and pulled her into his chest. Her head was tipped completely back. “Never better.” His voice was heavy with lust. She smiled as his lips met hers for a lingering kiss. “Is it my birthday or yours?” he asked as they separated. 

She smirked and nipped his lip. “It’s definitely mine.” She slipped out of his arms. He watched as she pressed her back flush to the cool windows. “Your flight suit looks good on, but take it off for me, coverboy,” she said.

Even in the low light, Jake’s smile was beaming. Jake’s movements were antagonistically slow as he loosened the fabric and pushed it down his body. She couldn’t help but smile as he mimicked her earlier motions, slowly revealing his tattoo. 

Flight suit abandoned, he stalked toward her, holding eye contact. His cock bounced against his abdomen with each step. Back and palms still flush to the glass, she craned her head back to maintain eye contact as Jake approached. He leaned down for a kiss. A large hand softly cupped the column of her throat. Jake had her pinned between him and the window with his length resting against her belly. She squeezed her thighs together as their make out intensified.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Jake pulled back. “Turn.” His voice was deep. She obeyed and supported herself with her forearms against the glass as she bent and arched her back.

Mrs. Seresin closed her eyes and remembered to breathe as Jake easily slid to the hilt. “You’re so wet,” Jake praised as he began a slow pace. One hand returning to her throat. “Did you work yourself up looking at my photos, thinking about what’s behind that helmet?” Jake rhetorically asked as he gently squeezed her neck. He snapped his hips, making her whimper. He smiled, feeling the hum against his fingers.

For leverage, Jake placed a hand beside hers on the window, and slipped the other around her front between her legs. She moaned and squeezed her eyes closed as his calloused fingers drew tight circles on her clit. Jake smiled into her shoulder as he felt her push onto her toes to chase the friction of his fingers.

Together they found a perfect rhythm. Jake continued to pepper her with praise and move with her. Eventually, Mrs. Seresin had her cheek and chest pressed against the window. She moaned with each thrust. Jake knew if they kept this positioned he’d come before her. 

She gasped but stayed pressed to the window as Jake dropped to his knees. Spreading her with his thumbs, he lapped her from behind. She keened as she arched her back more to give him better access. Jake shifted slightly so his tongue dipped into her.

That was all Mrs. Seresin needed. Jake stilled and let her bounce up and down on his tongue. Mrs. Seresin grew louder with each bob. Palms pressed to the glass, she rested her chin on it as she quickened her pace. Finally, her hips stuttered and she slowed her motions as waves of pleasure rolled through her. 

Jake popped to his feet and quickly slipped his cock into her throbbing heat. “Yes,” he hissed as her walls squeezed him. A few thrusts and he pumped her full of cum.

He groaned as his body eclipsed hers against the glass. After he caught his breath, he kissed her shoulders. She groaned, lifting her head off the window to look over her shoulder. 

“Happy birthday,” Jake said before he pressed his lips to hers. 

“A happy birthday, indeed.” She returned to her position against the window. 

Quickly, Jake slipped out of her and scooped into her his arms to avoid dripping any cum on the floor. She relaxed into him as he carried her to their bedroom. He deposited her on the bed before getting a washcloth to clean her up. 

Cleaned up, he tossed her favorite of his shirts at her before disappearing back into the bathroom. When he returned she was already curled under the blankets. Jake tossed on a shirt and shorts and headed downstairs to let Ruck out. 

While Ruck was in the yard, Jake went to the garage and unloaded the last of Mrs. Seresin’s gifts. He set them in the office out of the way. She could open them in the morning. 

Their little secret, Jake treated Ruck to one more donut before they headed back to the bedroom. Ruck tucked himself in his bed on Mrs. Seresin’s side of the bed as Jake slipped under the covers and spooned his wife. 

She turned to face him. “Thank you.” She gave him a quick kiss before flipping back over to tuck herself against him. 

“You’re welcome.” Jake pressed one more kiss to her temple, and then listened to her breathing as he fell asleep. 

The next morning, Jake still asleep, she wandered downstairs to make coffee. While she waited for his pour-over, she picked up the remnants of last night. Retracing their steps, she picked up clothes and folded them. As she entered the office, she kept her sights on Jake’s crumpled flight suit. She folded it, a smile tugging her lips as she thought about last night. Her smile became a full fledged smirk as she noticed all the body part prints on the glass.

As she turned to leave, something leaning against the bookshelves caught her eye. Those were not there last night. Two very large packages. She walked over with a hand extended, fingers ready to graze the paper, when she heard, “Go ahead, open them.” 

Startled, she jumped back, clapped a hand over her heart and turned to find Jake. His grin outdoing the Cheshire Cat, he leaned against the door frame with a mug in each hand. She caught her breath as Jake sauntered over. He handed her a mug and pressed his lips to her forehead. 

“These are your last gifts,” Jake said. She threw him a look as she walked back toward the packages. Perching her cup on a shelf, she dipped her fingers behind one of the folds and tore the wrapping. She couldn’t help but laugh as she caught sight of her own face staring at her. 

Quickly, she tore through the paper to reveal framed prints of her draped naked across the hood of Jake’s vintage Mustang and him naked, holding his helmet and smirking. Their centerfolds.

“Where were you thinking we would hang these?” She gathered her coffee and stepped back beside Jake so they could view their photos together.

He shrugged. They looked at each other. “You’re the designer, and it’s your birthday, so you get to pick.”

“I’ll think about it.” They both smiled as she bounced onto her toes to give him a quick peck. 

“One more thing,” he said as they parted. She waited for him to continue. “You can’t hang yours in the garage.” She arched an eyebrow. “I don’t want the neighbor boys trying to sneak a peek when the garage opens and closes.” She burst into laughter. 

“I love you,” she replied. Jake feigned confusion as she kissed his cheek. Together, they sipped their coffees and chatted about where to hang the photos. 

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[the-kr8tor]

Omg requests are open again 🫣

Hobie and you in a Christmas-themed party (maybe hosted by Miles? Gwen?) Under the mistletoe? Perhaps a little inspired by this post https://www.tumblr.com/the-kr8tor/736942547927252992/arachkidsspider-society-seeing-hobie-and-you

Thank you for requesting, lovely! And happy holidays 🫶

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, spider person! Reader, cw food mention, cw drinking, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The party is in full swing, fellow spider people mingle and chat with each other. The drinks are flowing, the lights are bright and twinkling, the music is jolly and merry; there's discarded wrapping paper all over the floor. Even Miguel is participating, although he has had a few drinks courtesy of Jess and Lyla telling him they can't drink so he has to compensate for them. Both women are currently cheering him on to chug an entire bottle of eggnog, while other spider people take out their phones to record.

The trio are currently exchanging gifts with each other, Miles guffaws as Pavitr opens his gift, presumably from Gwen who slaps her knee in laughter. But there's an unmistakable space between them, one whose shiny spikes are currently missing under all the holiday lights.

You smile when you feel his chest behind you, the pins from his vest poke you as a greeting. Looking over your shoulder, you're met with his classic smirk, arm braced over you on the wall, free hand already on your waist to fully turn you around.

“Lookin' for someone?”

“Yeah, Ben Riley, I heard he has a present for me.”

Hobie grins wider at your teasing, “Whatever he's gonna give you I've got you somethin’ better”

“Another one?” You remember exactly thirty minutes ago that he already gave you your present, a necklace made from his guitar pick that's currently dangling on your neck. “C’mon that's too much, babe” looping your fingers on his belt loop, you pull him closer. Your smile is sickenly sweet as the Christmas cookies you've eaten.

He has a glint in his eyes, you're sure it's not from the lights. “Do me a favour and look up for me”

You scrunch your nose questioningly, but you still look up. Laughing, heat immediately rises to your cheeks. “Ever the charmer”

The mistletoe hangs just above you, held by Hobie himself who puffs his chest.

“You know the rules, love.”

You fake a sigh, “If I have to, it's tradition after all.” you're already leaning your face towards his waiting lips.

There's fireworks popping off outside, you hear people's footsteps rush out to the balcony to watch. Yet, you and Hobie still kiss unbothered by everybody. He tastes like the chocolate cake he devoured earlier, it's all tooth rottingly sweet as you hold on to his hips for dear life. His hand is splayed over the small of your back protectively.

The world melts around you.

“Jeez! Get a room, you too!” Gwen yells out. Both Miles and Pavitr boo at you two.

Hobie chuckles into the kiss, waving them off with a quick gesture before continuing to give you his second present.

[romanoffsbish]

Remember Your Place

Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Prompts Request

“Mommy isn’t very pleased with the outfit you chose to wear tonight, you made those fools think they stood a chance.” / “Maybe they did.” / *incredulous laughter* “Is that right baby? I go on one week long business trip and you just forget who you belong to? Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll remind you.”

Wanda really loves you, but in the wake of your bratty behavior she has to feel you love her too. Entrusting her with your body was the way you effortlessly showed her this reciprocation.

Warnings: Full on Smut. Jealousy. Knife/Blood. Labeled with warnings, please don’t report.

Smut: Mommy(W), “Semi-public” Sex, Bratty R, “Rough” Sex, Knife Play, Restrictions(R-Belt), Oral (W-Face Riding), Fingering(R), Punishment (Edging/Denial), Overstimulation, Strap (R), Total KO, Promised Aftercare.

"Mommy isn't very pleased with the outfit you chose to wear tonight, you made those fools think they stood a chance," Wanda seethed while haphazardly throwing you on the bed.

"Maybe they did," you huffed, upper body raised defiantly on your elbows as you stare daggers into your lovers amused eyes, the same one who left you in this same bed desperate, then caught a plane to Prague last Saturday.

Wanda laughed incredulously as she slowly removed her belt from the loops of her slacks. "Oh, is that right baby?" she stalked over to the bed with a dangerous smile, and you screeched wildly when she grabbed you by your calves and yanked your body down, causing your upper body to fall back, and legs to dangle.

————

"I go on one week long business trip and you just forget who you belong to?" she scoffed while wrapping her belt around your hands. "Don't worry sweetheart, I'll remind you."

A gasp of something reminiscent to terror and shock mixed left you when she pulled a pocket knife from her boot, and brought it to the top of your shirt. "What a shame," she tutted, then ran the surprisingly sharp blade down the front of your shirt. "I liked that blouse."

You watched her step away to undress, her pants fell and unshielded the strap she'd kept hidden from you all night. "Mhm, if only you were patient, then I'd have been filling your needy pussy up in no time," she chuckled darkly when your brows furrowed, and then your face fell when she discarded the silicone.

"M-mommy, no, I-I'm so..."

"Save it brat!" she cowered over you with a deadly glare. "Those are my employees out there, and you practically let them eye fuck what was mine with a smile on your face."

It wasn't hard for you to see the actual hurt in her eyes, and if not for the wet spot, and painful pit in your stomach you'd try to undo this with comfort, but if there's one thing you've learned about Wanda, it's that the only thing to cure her anger is to fuck you stupid.

"Lay back, and use that disrespectful mouth for some actual good," she barked out, but then groaned at the unacceptable defiance in your eyes that she intended to fuck out of you soon.

"Wait, what about the people downstairs?" she smirked at the sudden realization dawning upon your dizzy mind. "Don't worry about them now detka," contrary to her mood, she softly caressed your cheek as she kissed you.

Then her grip tightened causing you to whimper as she held you firmly in place so you couldn't evade her gaze. "It's important I set a precedent here to remind them that if they wish to keep their families fed, they should remember to keep their eyes to themselves."

A chill ran down your spine when you felt her blade suddenly laying against your collarbone. "Then there's you, the brat who needs a proper reminding of who the hell she belongs to," the tip of the sharp blade pricked your skin as her accented words slipped through gritted teeth.

"Make mommy cum, and I promise I won't edge you for the entire night," she winked down at you as she relinquished her hold on your jaw, then before you could even adjust to the freedom she was straddling your head, and lowering her glistening cunt onto your lips.

Wanda's hips moved against you passionately, moans of all sorts etched out of her throat as you swirled your tongue around her entrance just before entering her and using your nose to offer her clit a base of friction as she used you to get off. It was honestly killing you not to be able to touch her the way you pleased, your hands naturally fought against their restraints, but you weren't going to outright complain lest you'd lose your privilege to taste her essence.

Once she came undone you eagerly met her tired thrusts so that you could lap up her slick. Then when she shimmied down, trailing her hot wetness down your bare abdomen you moaned and your thighs clenched together causing the blitzed out woman to smirk.

"Tell me now detka," she husked against your ear as her hand hovered over your panties, "Who does this pretty pussy belong to, hm?" you gasped as her hand aggressively cupped you from over the wetted fabric, and she chuckled when you humped up into her palm like the desperate whore you clearly were.

"Answer the question," she murmured against your jaw, her teeth now nibbling the thin layer of skin. "I'm yours mommy," she hummed., "And this pussy?"you whimpered as her fingers slid beneath your drenched panties and began to slowly run through your slicked folds. "All yours mommy, every single part of me."

"Atta girl," she slammed her lips to yours, catching your shriek as she entered you with three fingers, and began to pump her fingers into you unrelentingly. "Jeez Y/N, are you really this fucking desperate to be filled?" she grunted while picking up her pace to combat the resistance she'd already been met with.

"Clenching around my fingers already like a virgin meeting ecstasy for the first time," she tutted humorously," Too bad you were such a despicable brat tonight," she growled, her fingers now stilled, and it took everything in you not to break down sobbing right there.

"Mommy, please," you begged, and received a teasing curl of her fingers, but there was no enjoyment in the action as they left you just as fast. "No, I said I wouldn't edge you all night long, not that I wouldn't edge you at all."

Wanda was many things, but a liar wasn't one of those, so for the next hour she'd kept you on the edge with her tongue, and fingers taking turns as her weapon of choice. At this point your cunt was aching, and beyond sensitive, but your cries meant nothing to the redhead. They only spurred her on really, so much so that she was content with the idea of leaving you desperate for release until the sun rose.

"Mommy, I-I can't take it anymore," you shrieked as she pushed the hilt of her knife against your hole. "Oh, but I'm positive you can detka," she pushed the handle further into you. "Just indulge mommy, and if you're good I'll get my strap on and rail you properly."

Wanda knew that you were close to calling out your safe word, the sweat dripping from your tense body a sign that she's worked you up. There was just something about watching the way your overworked, puffy cunt sucked her knife in that left her too mesmerized to care. The sealed redwood with fun designs was now abundantly overlayed in your slick, and she was overjoyed for the knife handles new scent as she pulled it out just before you released.

"It's okay," she coo'd, her hands covered in you slowly wiped away at your falling tears. "Did you learn your lesson detka?" you nodded wildly, and she giggled while moving to kiss your lips. "I think you deserve to cum now."

Wanda clambered off the bed, a smile on her face as you whined for her missing presence. Smooth as can be she settled into her harness, then next she was quelling your noises with a sweet kiss, and a gentle smile. "You ready?"

Wanda slid against your sensitive cunt to collect your arousal, then with one swift thrust of her hips her strap was sheathed within you. Strong arms wrapped around your waist, and in an unexpected twist she pulled you closer before flipping your positions. "Ride me."

In your exhaustion you found the task at hand confusing, but then she thrusted upward, and it all suddenly clicked. "There you go detka.," she purred as you began to hop up and down, allowing her to lean back and enjoy the show.

As soon as you screamed in pleasure Wanda thrusted her hips up, then used the leverage to flip you back into the mattress so she could continue to fuck you through the high. Her arms hooked under your calves, then her hands shifted to your thighs, pushing your legs up and into you allowed her to reach deeper.

The muscles in your legs quivered beneath her fingertips as the tip of her strap continued to rut into you as if a sex crazed mania took over her entire body. Her continuous, deep thrusts led to a euphoric display of convulsions that soon melded into a pleasurable stillness. Your abused body having slumped into the mattress with your lips upturned blissfully, and her shiny strap now exposed as you'd slightly slipped off of her length. It was completely glistening and you were softly snoring.

"Fuck, baby, I-I fucked you to sleep, I knew I was good, but look at you; I'm magnificent," she chuckled out breathlessly. Oh God did you make her breathless, that first time she ever saw you told her as such; you took her breath away, and instead of suffocated she felt liberated. Every time she saw you she'd softly gasp, it wasn't a habit, it was a bodily response.

Wanda has loved you from the very start, you had such an ability to weave your way into her heart and she wanted to hate it, but she could never, because it was you. It was always you, and it always will be. You're her everything.

Wanda watched in amusement as your body tried to regain it's conscious control, but you were slipping in and out, she was honestly shocked when you started speaking coherently.

"Mommy, I-I'm sorry, I-I only want you, yo-you are all I'll ever need," you stuttered frantically, with labored breaths every few words. Wanda shushed you lovingly with her soft finger and adoring smile, it melted you.

"Moya lyubov', it's okay, mommy knows, you needed me, and I was too busy, I'm sorry," you smiled dopily and though she melted, she was still feeling filthy. "I'll remember to bring your collar and leash next time, make it clear it'll be me fucking you at the end of the night," you clenched so damn hard around her that it reverberated across the strap and caused her to cry out. "Oh detka, you can't take anymore."

You whimpered and she leaned in to kiss you softly, "It would be irresponsible of me to keep going moya lyubov', you're barely holding on."

You tiredly shook your head, it probably felt like you were going a mile a minute, but your head hardly moved. Wanda chuckled, then continued to kiss your face, tenderly, as if each one was a reassurance of her unending love.

Because boy, oh boy, did she love you.

If you were her multiverse then she'd be destined for madness. You were her favorite constellation to trace, she knew every delicious curve of your body, and could recreate the path of your natural and given marks with her eyes closed with exact precision. She knew you in ever sense of the word. And you knew her too.

Divined to be each others person for life.

Wanda placed a gentle kiss to your parted lips, "Get some rest moya lyubov'," she pulled out, and though you were truly knocked out you whimpered at the unrecognizable emptiness. "I'll be here to care for you when you awake."

The light was shut off, and the redhead waltzed down the stairs of your home with pride as she took in the gobsmacked faces of her employees.

Natasha smirked. "I know you're not huge on sharing, but we already share a company," the woman passed her a flute of champagne, and Wanda sipped the beverage down before she returned her smirk, "I'll consider the offer."

——

1,988 Words

❤️ Kaitlyn 🥰

[emeraldgreenbeautiesstu]

MATT X READER PLS.

Then book shopping n it’s all cute n stuff 😻😻‼️

Bernard's & Noble

(see what i did there)

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Word count: 749

Alexis speaks! : hey guys! thank you for the request (the more requests, the more stories i post 😉) i'm honestly not very proud of this one, but i've deleted it four times already and this is the best i got 💀 once again, comments and likes are greatly appreciated, it helps me know if yall like my style or if i need to change anything! pls don't steal my work, love yall!

-

"Matttt?" i whined from my spot on the floor. i was bored out of my fucking mind. Matt wanted the day to be a 'lazy day' and by that he means he wanted to scroll social media and youtube all day. that was not my idea of fun, i've always been a hands on person whether that be going outside for hours, to the lake, reading, anything other than being lazy at home.

"whattttt?" he mocked, sitting up from his bed, his hair all messed up and funny looking.

i chuckled. "your hair looks great." i smiled, climbing to straddle his lap and fix his bed head. "better" i smiled, kissing him on the cheek. "i have a business proposal."

matt sighed, "what do you want." he rolled his eyes with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

i hopped off him, standing at the foot of his bed. "i vote we go to barnes and noble today, my book case is baren." i joked. four out of the five of my bookshelves were full completely. but you can never have too many books.

"y/n you have more books than i think i've ever seen anywhere else in my life." he laughed. matt pretended to be annoyed, but he knows the answer is yes. and not just to this scenario, the answer is always yes to everything y/n wants. she had him wrapped around her tiny little finger. "when do you want to go?" he gave in.

i jumped around the room a couple times, silently celebrated with myself. "right now silly." i said. i trotted into his bathroom where i have my own drawer of toiletries and such. i touched up my makeup and threw on my shoes. "ok i'm ready." i beamed up at him. matt basically towered over me. he's 5'8 and i'm 5'3, so there's a pretty noticeable height difference.

he slipped his own shoes on. "i'm ready." he smiled, grabbing his keys.

i just looked at him. "matt babe." i looked at his outfit. "we are not going anywhere when you are wearing basketball shorts and a wife beater. please change." i said, false seriousness evident on my features.

-

"oh my god i'm literally gonna shit my pants i love barnes and noble." i said, climbing out of the passenger seat. I made matt carry my three tote bags i have designated for my favorite hobby, book shopping.

"do i really have to come in." matt complained.

-

we had been at barnes and noble for an hour already, two out of the three of my tote bags were full. so full we had to put them by checkout because they were too heavy to carry. About 15 minutes in i had made a joke that i thought was hilarious, matt didn't really think so.

-

"haha, bernard's and noble." i chuckled to myself, but matt heard me.

"y/n i swear to god i will leave you here."

"deal."

-

i was finally ready to go, the final tote bag full. i couldn't find matt though. i wandered through the multiple sections of books, matt no where in sight. "maybe he did leave me here." i mumbled under my breath. until my eye caught matt. he was crouched down, one hand on the shelf, the other hand occupied with a book.

"whatchya readin?" i smiled over him. my heart melted when he looked up at me, a small smile on his face. i took this time to take in his beauty. the way his slight curls fell over his eyebrows, the way his middle part accentuated his face shape, the way his blue eyes went so well with his outfit. he was wearing the white shirt with 'whatever' in bold print written across it, and baggy light wash blue jeans, his keys dangling from his belt loop.

"some poetry book, i might get it it's kinda fire." he smiled.

"you read poetry?"

"i like finding the good ones and printing them out, i like to look back on the really influential ones." matt said. he stood up and took my bag, his hand resting on the small of my back.

"matt i don't deserve you, you're so sweet." a cheesy grin creeping onto my lips.

"y/n you deserve the world." he smiled down at me, kissing my forehead.

"ok now how are we gonna get all of these in the car?" i laughed.

-

tag list!

@cupidzsq

[passivenovember]

Sharing again!

--

mirrorball

--

“You’re irate,” Robin says. 

And Steve can’t pretend that he knows the definition or that somewhere, past the churning noise of the party, and the wafting heat from the dancefloor, Steve has the slightest clue what to say other than, “Probably.”

Because in all the months he’s known her, if Robin says he’s irate then he probably is.

Steve wants to go home. He’s been over this scene for a while now, holding an empty red cup so no one asks him if he’s up for seconds and thirds. His eyes sting from the smoke. He’s never liked that about parties that don’t rage under his jurisdiction. 

If they were home right now, cutting the night away at Steve’s house, he’d tell them to take it outside. Not everyone’s a smoker. Not everyone wants to die early from nicotine poison, at least not from something as insignificant as second-hand smoke. 

But these are Tommy’s digs. And apparently, anything goes, here. People smoke and drink and fuck right out in the open, probably depositing colonies of lost children on the shag carpet underfoot, and Steve’s had enough. 

“This is really bothering you, huh?” Robin asks. 

“What are you talking about?”

On the other side of the room, past a string of holographic flowers cut from cellophane that dangles in Steve’s line of sight, Billy’s got a kaleidoscope of color dancing on his eyelashes and he’s standing really close to a guy with pretty hair.

That’s all Steve can clock about him.

His hair is nice. Long and brown and curly. 

And Steve’s been told a million times by his grandma that he’s got more to offer than a head of thick, Italian locks but with only a red cup and Robin’s fifty-cent words tethering him to this basement, Steve isn’t so sure. 

Robin knocks their shoulders together. “Billy,” She says. 

Steve can’t tear his eyes away from Billy’s eyelashes. “Where?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not stupid,” Steve snaps. “I just don’t see him.”

As if on cue, Billy steps closer to the guy. Gets right in the crook of his neck 'cause either. He knows Steve is watching or he’s trapped in his own little world.

Steve can’t figure out which is worse. Serving as the gasoline that fuels Billy’s night and earning a front-row seat to whatever happens next or being locked out. Forgotten. 

A sliver of perfect, golden skin peek-a-boos between the hem of Billy’s slashed Metallica tank top and a pair of leather pants Steve’s never seen before. Not in this basement. Not in his entire life.

He knows instantly he wants to see them trapped around Billy’s thighs. And on his bedroom floor. And melting, coughing up smoke until they’re memory when brownie-locks tugs Billy closer by his belt loop.

Steve crumples his red cup. “Let’s go,” He says. 

Again, Steve’s legs don’t move. 

“You should talk to him,” Robin says. “You should do something before–”

“Billy’s not going to fuck him,” Steve tells the shag carpet. He looks at Robin, and peers into her red-rimmed, pitying green eyes, because. “Right?”

She’s probably worried.

She’s probably tearing her hair down from its edgy updo in fear that their very own ray of Californian sunshine is going home with a stranger tonight. 

Robin’s lips disappear between her teeth, “I don’t know,” She says honestly. 

Robin cherry-picks her words. It’s such a contrast to the way Steve bulldozes his way through grand statements and sweeping apologies. It’s comforting. He hangs on her every expression to know he’s not crazy. He tracks the way she stares past those goddamn cellophane flowers until her eyes get big.

Robin glances over, cheeks red as speeding firetrucks even in the shitty light of this shitty fucking basement.

“What?” Steve demands, and he stares at the horizon to find, that. 

Billy and his Motley Crue knockoff have disappeared.

Steve sucks in a sharp, desperate breath. 

“Steve,” Robin says. 

He can’t feel his toes. He knew this would happen. He should’ve told Billy he loved him when he had the chance, and now.

Robin rubs his knee. 

“Maybe they just. Got swallowed by the wallpaper, or something.” And Steve sounds almost believable. He almost believes it himself, you know? Because how could his entire sex life have gone up in smoke in the last thirty-six hours? It doesn’t make a lick of sense. He was inside Billy Hargrove thirty-eight hours ago, and now--

The room might as well be empty.

“This is such bullshit,” Steve shakes his head. “He better wear a condom.”

Robin snorts, “You really think Billy’s gonna top?” Her fingers snake around Steve’s shoulder blades, rubbing at the knot of muscles in the side of his neck. “You can’t let it get to you, Harrington.”

Steve has to swallow the immediate desire to protect his shoddy, half-assed fortress of Cool Guy that has been falling apart, brick by brick, since the first time Billy sported hickeys on his neck in the shape of Steve’s mouth and told him that this meant nothing.

Steve wants to bury his face in his hands. 

He wants to pull his hair out by the root and scream and scream and never stop screaming until finally Billy admits that this is love.

That they’re in love with each other.

Whatever that looks like. Forgetting the condom, maybe.

Robin rocks their shoulders together. “Do you want another drink?”

Steve wants that, too. 

He hands his cup over, instead, “I’m going out for a smoke,” Steve mumbles, because even though Tommy’s parents have money and could replace it no-problem, he still pretends to respect the wallpaper he knows Mrs. Hagan chose special.

--

Billy only lets Eddie get his hands under his shirt because Steve’s watching. 

Only. Steve misses it, because he doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. He’s too busy talking to Robin, and it’s fucked up that the cocktail of vodka and cheap dope has Billy jealous about that, too. 

Like it’s not enough that he's consumed by jealous hatred of Steve’s sweater for draping itself over him all day, but Billy’s gotta drag his favorite lesbian into this. 

Nothing is holy, anymore.

The angry, love-drunk, pissed-off part of himself whispers that Steve and Robin are going home with each other tonight, even though Billy knows that means hideous fleece pajamas and no grabby hands.

It doesn’t matter.

Eddie scrapes a nail over Billy’s nipple and Billy thinks he’s gotta get even. 

If Steve is going to sit on that fucking couch and uphold their agreement that this means nothing, Billy’s going to fuck this stranger.

Done deal.

So Steve looks away and Billy tugs Eddie’s hand to his waist to get his mind off the mole on Steve’s cheek. 

“Got a condom?” He slurs. He’s fucked up. Can’t even stand straight without the wall or this guy propping him up. 

Eddie detaches himself from Billy’s neck, and. “A condom?” He asks, not understanding.

Even in Tommy’s shitty basement, he’s got nice eyes. 

Big and brown and kind, like Steve’s, but. He’s not Steve. 

That could be good, right? Billy could work with that. “You don’t wanna fuck me?” He bitches. Hurt, maybe.

Eddie shakes his head, “No, I do it’s just,” He catches Billy when he stumbles and puts him back on the wall like Billy’s mom used to do with loose paintings when Neil pushed her into them. “Shit, darlin’, you’re drunk.”

It’s kind of hilarious. 

Billy snorts. Knows if Steve heard him he’d say Billy’s cute, and Billy wants to go home. Not to Cherry Lane, but to Steve. He wants to live there forever, and Max could come, too.

“I am drunk,” Billy admits. He leans forward, wetting his mouth and grinning when this poor country idiot can’t help but zero in on the shine. “I’m real easy when I’m sloshed.”

“I don’t know–”

“C’mon, Harrington says I open up nice when I’m blackout.”

Eddie blinks at him. Straightens his spine, all noble, so he can stare down his button-snout at Billy to demand, “He fucks you when you can’t stop him?”

Like he knows Steve.

Like he knows them like Billy’s his mom and he needs to be rescued.

It pisses him off. Gets his dick to lay flat, for once, and Billy’s fucking tired. “Oh, like you were about to?” Eddies cheeks flare. Billy waddles forward. Says, “I don’t even know you. Stop acting like you know shit about shit because you don’t.” Because. “I love him,” Billy adds, “I’m in love with him because he deserves it.”

Eddie sucks his teeth, “Oh yeah?”

“Maybe.”

“That him over there?” And Eddie jerks a thumb over his left shoulder. Steve’s watching them, cool as a fucking cucumber, and that does something to Billy. 

Makes him look at the situation from outside of it. 

Like, he just offered to fuck this guy, this random dude, and Steve doesn’t even care. And he’s not stupid. Likes to pretend he is, though, and that’s worse. He may be having a grand old time over there with Robs, lounging like a king on the same couch Tommy fucked Billy on last summer, but he knows.

He’s gotta know. 

Billy shakes his head. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” He gasps. 

It’s not Eddie’s fault. 

He’s a nice guy. He’s been sweet all night, asking about music and movies and books and only touching when Billy begs him for it. 

Eddie’s baby browns get big. He says, “There’s nothing wrong with you, sugar, people act crazy when they’re in love.” He pushes the hair off Billy’s forehead, looking sweet and concerned, “Do you wanna go outside, maybe? Get some fresh air?”

Across the room, Steve isn’t even watching them, anymore. 

He’s lost interest.

Maybe he never had it in the first place. And it stings. 

Strangely, Billy doesn’t feel like drawing blood when Eddie leaks kindness. He offers his hand and Billy is too drunk to do anything other than take it.

--

Billy’s edges are sharp enough to cut. 

The truth, though, is that Steve likes it. Every drop of venom tastes like gin burning down his throat, hungry for more because it leads to Billy.

Truth is, Steve sees through it. He’s been close enough to that incendiary spirit on dark midnights to notice the fireflies that gather for warmth around the hearth of it all. And the reality that Billy would even let him get close enough for danger to  flash red against Steve’s skin in the first place--

Maybe that’s one of the things Steve likes most. Even if it hurts, sometimes, there will always be proof that Billy was there. And that for a moment, their edges had fit together like pieces of a puzzle. 

Maybe it’s just the beer talking, but Steve can’t let him go.

So Steve busts out of Tommy’s shitty basement, ready to tear springy brown curls from the scalp of that handsome, flirting stranger, when he steps into a puddle of rainwater, instead.

His skin is on fire. The shock of cold puts things into perspective, Steve’s chest opening like a summer tulip to the enormity of the universe.

There’s a calm spring mist, settling like diamonds across his skin. The Earth smells forgotten. Like for years and years, someone took the fabric of the city and rolled it up and stored it away, and now it’s free again. Resting, moth eaten and threadbare, against the backdrop of Steve’s shitty fucking night. Steve’s awful realization, that. 

He loves Billy. Earth-shattering.

And Billy’s going to fuck someone else. Apocalyptic. 

And even if Billy doesn’t make brownie-locks wear a condom, Steve will sit by his bedroom window all night just in case Billy decides that it means nothing, too. Just like them.

“Goddammit,” Steve hops out of the puddle a minute too late.

There’s water in his sock, squishing like fresh mud between his toes. He imagines being home. Warm and showered with a full belly, dozing in front of the fireplace. In Steve’s daydream, he’s naked from the waist down while Billy pushes and pulls his leg hair and calls him colonizer shit spawn for having a marble hearth in his living room. 

It doesn’t sting. Nothing hurts because in Steve’s fantasy, they belong to each other. Every impossible summit has been scaled and they’ve sidestepped waterlogged potholes to get to the truth. Their relationship means something. Everything.

Steve’s heart shudders, reality eclipsing the moon until everything's so bright he catches on fire. 

He stalks to the side-fence, peering into the watery darkness for a shock of American-made blue.

Billy’s car is nowhere to be found. 

And historic, champagne-pink revelations aside, Steve fishes around for his pack of smokes and refuses to admit that he’s out here to kill the guy who wants to get Billy’s mouth on him.

Steve would lose, probably. He’s fucked up. This probably isn’t healthy.

He wonders if Billy would plan his funeral. If he’d cry for him and swear off guys forever and visit Steve’s grave every morning with a hard on. 

Steve hopes so.

He’s embarrassed, to the very root of him. He needs a light.

So Steve bites the butt of his cigarette and pads around the yard, trying to find someone with a matchbox. The Earth is beautiful. Mrs. Hagan is an excellent gardener. All around, bushels of lilacs and marigolds are set to bloom. He studies the fullness of each blossom, eyes tracking the deep green of their clinging branches. 

It’s not even April yet and they’re thriving. That’s just the expert of Mrs. Hagan. She’s a smart girl, she knows how to nurture difficult saplings through hardships and winter months with careful hands, and--

Relationships are kind of like that, people have said.

Someone said that, once. Right?

Steve almost drops his cigarette. He yanks a handful of marigolds from the soil. They come up with their roots still attached.

That's gotta mean something. Bad poetry that feels like the ‘acknowledgements,’ page in one of those books his mom is always reading. Chicken Soup for the Soul. He imagines what Billy would say about this revelation after he’s chewed on it for a while.

Steve pets over the bleeding roots of his bouquet. He's never had gentle fingers. He tries to, with Billy and with everything else, but it always lands a little crooked. 

If Billy knew how hard Steve was trying, he’d probably call him an asshole. Chew on his thumbnail and ask how it is that Steve can read minds, all of a sudden, if Billy didn’t teach him. Because Billy taught him everything he knows, apparently. How to skateboard, how to bake pies from scratch, and how to fuck. 

Which flowers are his favorite.

--

Billy’s nails are sharp enough to pierce the skin. 

He’s never tried to do it on purpose, but he always manages, somehow. 

It’s raining. And Eddie’s hand is soft and warm and his fingertips are calloused just enough that when Billy nearly falls on his ass trying to side-step the tasteful rocks in Tommy’s side-yard, Eddie’s got traction to steady him.

“Nails are fucking sharp,” Eddie says. But he’s smiling.

There’s no shit, in that grin. He’s not aiming to eat Billy’s heart and soul or anything else. Nothing at all like Steve. Billy doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Not like I need to worry about keeping ‘em short,” Billy grins back, sighing in relief when Tommy’s parents had the good sense to invest in picnic furniture, “I’m not a top. I was, until Harrington--”

“I think if you say his name one more time he’ll appear,” Eddie teases, “Like Beetlejuice.”

Billy flops onto a sun lounger. “Think I’m gonna be sick,”

Overhead the stars vibrate, undulating until it feels like God is trying to hack and slash his way through the dark night sky to get at Hawkins. 

“Do you want me to run and grab--” Eddie pauses, staring around the yard with exaggerated care, “Harring--”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“Told ya,” Eddie grins, “Beetlejuice.” 

And maybe it’s just the vodka talking, but Billy’s stomach is stuffed with butterfly hearts when this dumb, sweet, beautiful boy smiles at him.

Eddie perches at the base of the lounger. His boots plant themselves on the ground, nice and respectful, so if someone were to see them they might think Eddie was aiming to rescue Billy from alcohol poisoning right before he calls him a slur and takes off, cackling into the night.

He won’t, though. Eddie’s a nice person and even if he wasn’t, Billy knows when a guy’s caught.

Kid’s been watching him all night. Even now, Eddie peers through a curtain of springy curls, baby browns flitting all over Billy’s face and catching on the things Steve likes best about him, probably. His cum-gutter lashes and dick sucking lips--

“You eyes are really blue,” Eddie squints and slides closer, all, “Like, creepy blue.”

It’s written all over his face. Hook and line, blind with hope for things Billy could only ever give to Steve. "Creepy?"

"Yeah," Eddie says, full of wonder.

“Well fuck off, then,” Billy snaps. “You don’t have to babysit me.”

“You’re not a baby, and I’m just sitting, alright?” Eddie's silver-lined fingers rise to pat around his vest. Billy squares his jaw when he pulls away with an unsheathed cigarette. “I’m smoking,” Eddie tells him, “Just sittin’ down until I can get the cherry sparked.”

“You’re a dumbass.”

“Probably.”

“It’s annoying,” Billy shakes his head, staring out at the trees that line the Hagan’s side-yard, a hop and a skip to the neighbor's place. “You’re a good guy. Why are you so good?”

“’M not good,” Eddie admits softly. “You’re just. You’re fucking gorgeous, alright? And if you don’t wanna go home with me, I gotta keep you safe until the Prince can get to you.”

Billy’s eyes snap, heated, to Eddie’s grinning face. “This isn’t a fairytale,” He says. Because it isn’t.

But Eddie looks so hopeful. 

His eyes melt like chocolate kisses. 

“No, but it could be,” Eddie scoots a little bit closer, hand falling to rest on Billy’s knee, fingers slipping along leather. “Can I ask you something, gorgeous?”

“I’m not gorgeous,” Billy snaps. When Eddie grins again, Billy’s face warms. Hot as the sun. “Spit it out, Munson.”

“Why are you in love with him?”

“I’m not in love--”

“Billy.”

He’s uncomfortable, like this. A bug under a microscope so he’s gotta show his stinger and scare kindness away.

But Eddie’s too dumb to notice.

A thousand words bubble and rise like champagne at the back of Billy’s throat, each one fizzing out before it can shuffle past his teeth. All of them will land like fists. Split skin and draw blood, so.

Billy shakes his head. Settles on, “He’s not what I expected.”

“Yeah, but why him? I could be different than what you expected. I mean--”  Eddie’s fingers dance along Billy’s thigh. Touching but not quite, at the same time. Making his skin dance. “I already am, right?”

Billy shivers. 

“Yeah,” He admits. It burns like alcohol on open wounds to say out loud.

But the thing is-- 

“Steve’s different than you. Than everyone. He’s sweeter and brighter than anyone I’ve ever met. Event though it took forever to get there. He’s got layers. He’s not what you’d expect, because. He’s got this big fucking house, right? And it’s full of shit. Name-brand poptarts and every vinyl you could imagine and all his blankets are soft enough that they’re probably lost clouds, or something. And even when I’m with him, like. Even after we fuck and Steve gets what he wants from me, he always asks if I’m hungry. And he doesn’t believe it when I say that I’m full. That I’ve gotta jet. He cooks really good pasta. He sings. He’s got a good voice, and he puts my name in the song, sometimes. He lets me eat in bed and he plays with my hair while I fall asleep, and. That’s the biggest thing for me, you know?”

Eddie’s fingers wrap, like warm summer vines, around his own.

“I don’t sleep good anywhere. I get cagey, ‘cause of my old man. I’m always on alert. There was a while, last summer, where I slept with my shoes on. ‘S why I’m such a bitch all the time, I’m fucking exhausted, but with Steve,” Billy’s shaking. He’s gonna vibrate out of his skin. “Steve is my home town. He’s home, on a Saturday morning. I’ve never felt safe with anyone else.”

Billy’s going to cry.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Eddie doesn’t notice. And if he does notice, Eddie refuses to care. His eyes are intent on Billy’s face when Billy admits--

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Eddie tells him, “It’s alright.”

“Vodka turns me into a chatty bitch. I’ve never told anybody that, before,”

Eddie’s thumb strokes soft over Billy’s palm. “The stuff about Steve, or--”

“Any of it,” Billy looks up, caught in waves of warm, sweet brown. He sniffs, suddenly more nervous than he’s ever been in his entire life. “If you fuckin' yap to anybody about this, Munson--”

Eddie’s smile is like the setting sun. “Put your teeth away, baby, I’ll take it to my grave.”

Billy opens his mouth to say thank you. To admit that this night, for all the good and bad and embarrassing, has made everything feel easier. 

Eddie seems to hear it. To feel it in his bones.

He kisses the back of Billy’s hand, lips sliding warm and soft along Billy’s thumb, to the pad of each finger. 

Billy’s heart hammers, unsteadily in his chest, when those lips press lewd, against his palm.

“Eddie,” Billy mumbles, sounding frail even to his own ears. “Eddie, I--”

--

A bomb goes off. 

Steve thinks the sky might as well be full of mushroom clouds because war’s waged when brownie-locks takes all of Steve’s knuckles across the bridge of his nose.

Steve’s not left handed.

The punch, it’s. It’s awkward and more force than anything else, and it hurts like hell. Something’s probably broken.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, same time Billy’s new boyfriend says, “Shit,” and Billy puts both of his calloused, strong, stocky, perfect fists on Steve’s chest to shove him back.

Steve goes easy, because he deserves it. He promised himself he wouldn’t do this. 

But. He’s seeing red, and he’s gotta know. “Billy--”

Billy looks like he wants to kill him, and he could. Steve would let it happen. He thinks about sinking to his knees right here, dropping the marigolds, begging to get his speech out before the light goes out in the sky forever.

Steve’s still got the unlit cigarette in his mouth. A bouquet in his hands. He takes it out. Drops the flowers. Steps closer and says, “Billy, did he kiss you?”

Because he has to know.

Billy stares at the marigold petals in fear. They're coiled snakes. They're the end of the world. “You’re drunk,” Billy says, same time his new boyfriend bolts upright and fucking cackles. 

“Harrington, huh?” Brownie-locks spits on the ground. It’s red. Steve tries not to feel proud. “Really are Beetlejuice, man.”

Steve ignores the boyfriend. He stares at Billy and tells the truth, “I am drunk. So are you.”

Billy doesn’t look at all like Steve imagined, now that his anger’s planted itself on brownie-lock’s face. 

Billy’s shaking. 

He’s got tears clinging to his lashes, and Steve knows everything’s his fault and he wants to die for that, but all the guilt in the world doesn’t stop him from turning on Billy’s new boyfriend and taking a step forward when brownie-locks says, “I wanted to fuck him until you came along.”

At least someone answers Steve’s question.

He feels a little bit like throwing up and a lot like going for round two. Turning this guy’s face to hamburger meat, but. 

Billy gets between them.

And he’s vibrating.

And no matter what they’re dealing with or how much they’re refusing to talk about, Steve never wants to be the reason Billy can’t hold still.

Regardless, Steve scoffs. “You’re seriously protecting this guy? From me?” 

He’s furious.

He’s so hurt and bleeding inside and angry--

“Go home, Steve,” Billy mutters. He’s not shaking anymore. He stands his ground, looking every bit like an avenging angel, and.

Steve loves him. He’s proud of him, but. “You don’t want me.” The words sound wrong. Garbled and stretched out.

The boyfriend stand ramrod straight all of a sudden, like, “Wait, that’s it?” And he looks so confused.

Hurt, even.

And that pisses Steve off, you know. Gets him feeling brave.

“What do you mean ‘that’s it,’” Steve paces forward, stopping only because Billy tacks a soft, warm hand to the center of his chest. “Are you really asking to get your dick knocked off, freak?”

Billy’s boyfriend laughs, “God, you’re so pretty and so, so fucking stupid.”

Steve knows. About the second part. So he rolls his neck and says, “Why are you still here?” Because--

Billy gets in front of him. He looks so beautiful, with moonlight painting his curls more bronze than gold. And his lashes are clumped together. “Why?” Steve asks again, because he has to know.

And suddenly it’s like everyone runs out of words.

They stare at him. Billy’s boyfriend rocks a little on each foot, eventually peering at the ground like there’s no place he’d rather be than nestled under it. "What's the with the flowers?" He asks.

The longer they ignore him, the more Steve’s set on digging the guy a hole in the ground. Burying him and leaving the marigolds there as a memory.

Steve’s losing his mind.

He’s going crazy, he--

“Why is this guy here with you, Billy?” Steve demands.

Billy stares at him, pretty pink mouth open. His palm is so warm on Steve’s chest, it’s like a sun spot. 

“Why do you want him here and not me?” Steve grabs that hand. Holds onto it, says, “Do you love him?” 

Billy bares his teeth. “Does it matter?”

“Billy,” Steve whispers. “Are you--of course. Of course it matters, you. You have to know, that--”

And he’s grateful to Billy’s boyfriend for not laughing at the way his voice, fucking. 

Cracks.

Bleeds.

Steve takes a deep breath. Tries again. “You’ve gotta know, right?”

And.

Apparently not.

Billy blinks at the stars, blue like the ocean set to spill. He takes his time. Gets his feet under him. Eventually, Billy bares his fangs and stares right through Steve’s skull. 

“Thought I meant nothing to you, Harrington,” Billy says.

And Steve dies.

He might as well not even exist. He might as well be a window. 

“Thought you just wanted me because I’m a warm place to slide into a night,” Billy rumbles, and. 

Steve. He’s never had teeth pulled when he could feel it. He’s never snapped a bone in half. He’s never seen God, either, but. 

He imagines it would all feel the same when he finally has the courage to say--

“I was just following your lead,” Steve’s so embarrassed. And ashamed. He can’t believe he made Billy feel like that, like a figment. 

It hurts worse than any pain he could conjure for himself, so.

"I. I mean, I picked marigolds for you, baby." Steve toes the edge of the cliff. “I love you," He tries, and. 

Falling feels a lot like flying, apparently.

Billy’s boyfriend disappears. Steve considers it a sign that even though Billy won’t look at him, he hasn’t pulled his hand away, yet.

[lovelytsunoda]

you sexy thing // clement novalak (kinktober day 4!)

summary: someone has been watching a little too much magic mike lately.

pairing: clement novalak x female! reader

prompt: striptease

warnings: listen guys it’s all in the summary. probably no full fledged smut here, otherwise it would be far too long for a kinktober blurb so instead it's just gonna be real spicy and giggly and basically like a magic mike movie.

"clement, what are you doing in there?"

"one minute, sweetheart! i'm almost ready!"

"ready for what?" she whined, falling back against the bed, hair fanning out behind her.

she was used to this: clement getting an idea in his head and often refusing to tell her about it until the last second.

clement novalak loved his little surprises, but sometimes, surprises were the last thing on y/n's mind.

"just be patient!" clement tsked from the ensuite. "i promise it's going to be worth it!"

“if you say so.” she laughed, picking up her phone and beginning to mindlessly scroll through her apps of choice, curled up by the headboard and waiting for her lover to return.

“okay, okay. you can look now.” clem giggled, moving to stand by the foot of the bed, resting a bluetooth speaker on their shared dresser.

she looked up from her phone, barely stifling a grin as she dropped her phone. her eyes roved clems body as she shifted positions on the bed, perching herself at the edge.

he was dressed in a white tank top and leather jacket, blue skinny jeans that hugged his thigh muscles and perfect ass, and a pair of aviator sunglasses covered the eyes that she adored so much.

“clement, what are you doing?”

“let me show you, sweet girl.”

he reached for his phone, tapping on a the screen a few times before a seventies rnb song began to play from the speaker.

“i believe in miracles, where you from, you sexy thing.”

clem dramatically cast off the sunglasses, one hand over his belt buckle as he began to sway his hips, poking his groin out sharply in her direction.

“oh. my. god.” she giggled. “someone’s been watching too much magic mike lately.”

he swayed his shoulders with the music, moving with the easy going beat as he rolled his hips, pulling the jacket off, but making a show out of it, letting the leather dangle off his elbows.

he slipped the rest of the jacket, whipping it towards the closet door before teasingly pulling up the hem of his tank top, exposing his delicious abs for nobody except his girlfriend to see.

“i feel like i should be tucking one pound notes into your boxer shorts.” she giggled, but it was clear she was starting to get flustered, nipples pressing against the padding of her bra.

“you can touch me, darling.” clem grinned, guiding her hand towards his abs. “this is all about you.”

she could hardly contain the giddy smile on her face as she ran her hand up clement's sculpted stomach, feeling every ridge of muscle under her palm, every undulation as he moved his body sinfully.

he truly was a god of a man.

clem stepped back just slightly, enough that she was no longer caressing him, pulling the tank top over his head and tossing it towards her. she caught it with a laugh, not oblivious to the way that his skin glimmered in the light, the easygoing soul song playing in the background as he crouched down, placing one hand on the floor behind him before bucking his hips up, the outline of his cock pressing against his jeans.

from the bed, y/n playfully wolf-whistled, wondering why she had ever preferred channing tatum's film when watching her boyfriend perform the real thing was far more attractive.

"where did you come form angel? how did you know i needed you?"

"oh, now you're just teasing." she giggled, watching clem slip his fingers into his belt loops, playfully shifting the way the waistband rested, providing the cheekiest of glimpses at his happy trail.

"that's the point, love." he laughed. clem stepped towards the bed, undone jeans hanging off his hips and exposing a sliver of the deep blue underwear he was wearing. "dance with me, pretty girl?"

she slipped her hands into his, rising from the bed and allowing clement's hands to guide her body: one leg tossed over his, one arm around his neck and the other on his bare chest.

she gasped as clement began to guide the dance, his member brushing against her damp panties. she bit her lip to stop a moan, using the hand that was on his chest to cop another feel, roving her hand up and down his chest before slipping it into his jeans and cupping his erection.

"i love you." she whispered huskily, chasing his lips for a kiss that was mostly tongue and teeth.

"i love you more, pretty girl."

she slipped her hand further into his jeans, stopping to widen her eyes when her hand found bare skin instead fo breathable fabric.

"clement novalak, please tell me you are not wearing a g-string."

"okay." clem grinned, trying not to laugh. "it's not a g-string, it's a thong."

"why the fuck would you do that?"

"to try and turn you on, of course." he laughed. "lie back on the bed pretty girl, and i will gladly take off my pants to show you. i've still got a couple dance moves left i haven't tried yet."

TAGS:

@mignonricciardo @magnummagnussen @httpiastri @twinkodium @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @love4lando @lorarri @cartierre @verstappion

[multi-fandom-of-madness]

Adoration

Pairings: Swiss X Aurora

Type: Smut

Summary: Swiss is infatuated with Aurora, and shows his appreciation.

Warnings: Drinking, cunnilingus, fingering, p in v sex, biting, mentions of blood

Word Count: 2,515

Notes: Read here on ao3. SwissRora got me feeling things. I am absolutely obsessed with them. I think that they are absolutely perfect. A princess and her knight in shining armor. THEY ARE TOO FUCKING IN LOVE.

~

Aurora was gorgeous. A ghoulette who was absolutely dipped in sin from head to toe. Every ghoul adored her, and she absolutely loved having everyone wrapped around her perfectly manicured claws.

Swiss practically worshiped the ground that she walked on. Whatever she wanted, she got. He followed her around like a lovesick puppy, obeying her every command. Swiss commonly surprised her with gifts and cute things, and with each one, Aurora’s grin somehow managed to grow wider. They loved each other to bits, and nothing was going to stop that.

Swiss was standing outside of Aurora’s door wearing a silk, maroon button down with the top few buttons undone to show off his chest and a necklace with a ruby dangling from it, black slacks, and his nicest dress shoes. He knocked on the door with one hand. The other held a bouquet of black roses that he knew Aurora would adore. He always had a bouquet for her whenever they went on a date that typically matched their outfits – just for that extra level of adoration. He always gave her something fresh when the old set began to wilt.

Aurora opened the door and her beautiful red lips turned up as she fixed one of her earrings. “Are those for me?” She asked, batting her eyelashes.

Swiss took in the sight of her, not even recognizing the fact that a question was spoken. She was wearing a breathtaking, skin-tight, deep red dress with a high slit. His eyes trailed down her body to see the thigh-high stockings connected to a specific set of garters that had Swiss’ cock twitch with interest.

He sucked in a breath. “You’re going to be the death of me, doll,” he grinned, taking her chin in his free hand.

“At least you’ll die happy,” she teased. He let out a low chuckle, then bent down to kiss her. She pushed him back, laughing as he pouted. “Uh uh, you have to wait until after dinner. It took me far too long to get my lips right for you to mess it up,” she teased

Swiss let out a huff, but didn’t push it. Aurora opened the door, motioning for him to come in. As he did, he went to the vase, taking out the old, once vibrant, purple flowers, replacing them with the roses. “You look gorgeous, Rora,” he said, walking back over to her and pulling her toward him by the waist.

She smiled up at him, her eyes shimmering as she looped fingers into his belt loop. “Are you going to even make it through dinner?” She asked as she noticed his hard on.

“Don’t pull my chain. I saw those garters, pretty girl. You’re just trying to tempt me.”

“And it’s working,” she smirked, tracing the outline of his cock with a freshly manicured nail (that Swiss paid for, of course).

“When is it not?”

“You’re too easy.” Aurora brought her hand up to Swiss’ arm, toying with the sleeve he rolled up. Swiss took her hand, then kissed it. She giggled at the way his stubble tickled the soft skin, and he smiled. He could listen to her laugh all day.

“Are you ready to go, your highness?”

“Let me get my purse and my shoes on, then I will be,” she confirmed, quickly dropping his hand as she scrambled to find her purse. He watched her scour the room, then took a look at her dresser. The dainty black purse was sitting just right there, yet she was digging through her closet. He picked it up, then held it as he waited for her to notice.

She returned with her shoes and a pout, but her eyes lit up when she saw the purse. She went to grab it, but Swiss simply lifted it above his head. “Nope. I want a kiss first.”

“You’ll smear my lipstick,” she countered, crossing her arms.

“Just a peck on the cheek, then you’ll get the purse back.”

“But then you’ll have lipstick on your face.”

“Come on. One kiss, and you’ll get it back. You know I love wearing your marks,” Swiss grinned at the attempted innuendo.

Aurora rolled her eyes, grabbed his shoulders, and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, leaving a red stain on his face.

“Good girl,” Swiss said as he gave her the purse. He took her shoes and knelt in front of her, holding it out. She rested her hand on his shoulder, letting him bear her weight as she slipped on the glossy black stilleto. He hooked one hand under her thigh and pressed a kiss to her knee as he looked at her with all the adoration in the world, repeating the process as she slipped on the other shoe.

As Swiss stood up, holding his arm out for Aurora. “Ready now, princess?”

“Indeed I am,” she says, linking her arm in his.

They make it to the restaurant, and it is nice. It’s quite possibly the fanciest restaurant that he has ever seen. Only the best for his Aurora.

“You continue to amaze me,” Aurora hummed, taking in the scene. She squeezed herself closer to him, wrapping his arm around her waist. “It’s perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he responds, kissing the top of her head.

A host takes the name of their reservation, then leads them to their seats. There’s already a bottle of the nicest wine in an ice bucket when they get to their table. Swiss pulls out Aurora’s chair, then pushes it in for her.

He sits across from her, and the host pours them each a glass of wine. He leaves, telling them that their server will be with them shortly, and they both take their time looking over the expansive menu.

Aurora scoots her chair closer to the table as their server comes around to take their order. As Swiss begins to speak, Aurora slides her leg up his, rubbing the toe of her heel in his inner thigh as she sips her wine, acting as if nothing was happening.

Swiss goes red and takes a second to clear his throat and adjust himself. Aurora pulls her foot away as she gives the server her order with such an innocent smile, and Swiss can’t help but melt.

Once the server leaves, Aurora looks towards Swiss, raising her eyebrows as she takes another sip of wine. “What was that?” He asked, giving her an amused smirk.

“Just a little taste of what’s for dessert,” Aurora giggled.

Swiss laughed, then took a piece of bread sitting in the basket on the table. “Little minx,” he teased to which Aurora responds with a wink.

—

Dinner was incredible, even with Aurora’s consistent teasing. Especially with Aurora’s teasing.

By the time they made it back to the Ministry, they were both tipsy, dropping their glamours the second they walked through the door.

Swiss insisted that they go back to his room, and Aurora gasped at the scene. Candles were placed on as many surfaces as possible and the lights were dimmed. There was music playing faintly somewhere in the room, and black rose petals lining the floor in a path to the bed, along with some scattered on the bed itself.

“Did you do this for me?” Aurora asked, turning to look at Swiss with an awestruck expression. He gives a silent thanks to Mountain and Cumulus for setting this up for him while he was out.

He cupped her face in his hand, stroking her cheek and staring into her eyes. “Of course, my love. I would do anything for you,” he smiled.

She smiled in return, then tugged the chain of his necklace to pull him into a kiss. He chuckled at her eagerness, despite her earlier protests in regards to messing up her lipstick. He wrapped his arms around her and pushed her toward the bed so that she was sitting on the edge of it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered as he knelt between her legs. He kept eye contact with her as he pulled off one shoe, kissing from her ankle to the hem of her dress before switching to remove the other shoe and repeating the process.

“Swiss…” Aurora gasped as Swiss pulled her thighs apart, kissing the top of her stockings. He unclips the garters, then slowly pulls the stocking down her leg. He’s worshiping her. He’s taking his time, and showing his appreciation for the fact that she’s allowing him to see her in this way.

He unclips the other side of the garter, stripping her leg of that stocking, then stands up. He towers over her, but there’s no air of dominance to him. This isn’t about him. It’s about her. She stares up at him, then pulls his belt off, untucking his shirt. He peels it off immediately, throwing it somewhere in the room. He takes her hands in his, then stands her up and switches spots with her. 

He grabs hold of her hip with one hand, then uses the other to start unzipping her dress. He kisses along her shoulder blades as he pushes the straps down, letting the dress fall. She turns around, wearing a black lace set. The one that makes Swiss’ mind go blank. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he growls as she straddles him.

“I know,” she smirks, leaning down to bite at his neck as she begins to grind her slick cunt against him.

“Shit, baby…already making a mess of me,” he moans as she bites his neck hard enough to bruise. His neck is covered in kiss marks from her lipstick, along with bruises that were already beginning to form.

Swiss groans as her fangs sink into his neck. She laps up the blood, and he easily, yet gently, flips her over, her head resting between his arms as he captures her in a passionate kiss. His tongue intertwines with hers easily. Their mouths slotted together in a perfect fit as he slides one of his hands up her waist. He pulls her up just long enough to be able to unclasp her bra.

He pulls it off with ease and watches as she bites her lip at the feeling of the cool air against her bare skin. Swiss immediately attaches his mouth to one of her nipples, pinching at the other and smirking as her back bows off the bed.

“Swiss, please…need you,” she moans, rocking her hips against him in search of friction.

“Whatever you want, princess,” he hums, sliding off of her.

He quickly takes off his shoes, then both his pants and boxers in one fell swoop, then climbs back over her. He takes hold of her garters and panties, gently pulling them down, exposing her beauty in its entirety. He kisses in a line down her stomach until he reaches her clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves, and listening to each pretty moan that spills from her lips.

Aurora’s legs are hooked over his shoulders as he buries his face into her folds, tongue teasing her entrance. She grabs one of his horns, tugging him further in, and he moans as she grinds her cunt against his face.

He’s absolutely intoxicated by her. Her taste…her smell…her sounds…everything. He moans against her, pushing two fingers past her entrance and curling them upward. She lets out a high-pitch moan as he pets at her walls, tightening her grip on his horns. He lets her push and pull against him and take what she wants.

This isn’t about him.

“I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum,” she chants. He picks up his pace, licking and sucking her clit like a man starved.

She shouts and arches her back as she cums. Swiss moans as a gush of wetness hits his tongue, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

He lets her come down from her high before he slips back on top of her, kissing up her neck until reaching her mouth. She moans at the taste of herself on his lips, and he grinds his painfully hard cock against her.

“Please, princess…I need to feel you,” he groans, slotting her cock against her hip.

She nods. “Need it. Please, I need your cock in me.”

He’s quick to line his thick cock up with her entrance, both of them moaning in sync as he pushes into her wet heat. She wraps one leg around his hip, pulling him as close as possible.

He thrusts into her and buries his face in her neck, kissing, not biting. He doesn’t want to mark her. He doesn’t want to taint her delicate skin. “Lucifer, you’re so tight. So good for me. So fucking good for me,” he moans against her neck.

He pushes his hips against her, the sounds of their skin slapping together overtaking the volume of the music.

“Swiss, make me cum. Make me cum again,” she commands, digging her heel into the meat of his ass.

He obeys, bringing one hand to rub at her clit. She lets out a piercing moan at the contact. He thrusts into her, but his pace isn’t rough. He wants to savor this moment. He wants to savor the feeling of her clenching around him as her thighs begin to shake.

There’s nothing but passion in the air as their bodies connect. Their scents mixing with the smell of sex fills the room. Curses spill from Aurora’s lips, and Swiss wonders how an angel can know such filth. He’s corrupted her, and he fills a sense of pride and possession overtake him, his hips speeding up as he chases his own orgasm.

“Swiss – fuck! Swiss, I’m gonna cum,” she gasps, eyes rolling back into her head.

“Cum for me, princess,” he says, continuing to rub her clit with his thumb. Her body convulses as she clenches around him, cumming with his name on her lips. Swiss wonders how he got so lucky to hear her, touch her, taste her…

He buries his head in her shoulder, inhaling her sweet scent as he follows her orgasm, cumming inside of her warmth with a muffled shout.

He takes a moment to breathe and catch up with his brain before pulling out and rolling off her. Once she’s able to, she pulls him into a kiss, then laughs as she takes in the sight of him.

He grins. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” she laughs, scooching closer to wrap herself in his arms. “You’re covered in my lipstick.”

He hums and kisses her forehead. “Bet I look almost as pretty as you do.”

“Of course you do,” she smiles, pressing her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

They stay like that, wrapped up in each other until Aurora pipes up, pulling back enough to look into his eyes.

“Hey, Swiss?”

“What is it, beautiful?” He asks, his lips curling into a smile.

“I love you,” she whispers.

He pulls her back against his chest. “Oh, Aurora,” he starts, stroking her hair and untangling some of the knots. “I adore you.”

[tatooineknights]

Day 1: SAFETY NET

His trembling lips parted as he looked down at the clouds below him, gasping as the familiar sight of the Millennium Falcon appeared before him. He instantly thought of his friends, the family he'd gained over the years, and weakly smiled. "Leia," Luke Skywalker whispered aloud to himself once more, thankful that he hadn't succumbed to his certain death. She heard him.

The top hatch opened and Luke saw a man he hadn't seen before - a bold mustache complimented his face, vaguely reminiscent of a friend he once had on Tatooine. He dressed in blue, and had a certain regality to him; self-assured, charming. His arms were outstretched, waiting for him to let go. The wounded Jedi blinked down at the man tentatively before nodding off whatever trepidation he had - if Leia could trust him, so could he.

Luke made on last look up from where he fell at the belly of Cloud City and traveled down the pole and antennas to where he was now. He made sure he would never forget it. With a relieved sigh, Luke's only hand let go of the weathervane he dangled ever so precariously from, his palm still slick with desperate sweat, as he fell toward the man below him. Gentle hands met his shoulders and his waist, catching him with grace and kindness. His eyes twinkled in astonishment as he looked up at his rescuer, equally from the shock of his cauterized stump and his actual survival.

"Pleased to meet you, Skywalker," the man said, clipping something onto the belt loop of Luke's fatigues to keep him in place. "Lando."

"Luke," he whispered back, though between the roaring winds and the growing throb in his temple, he wasn't sure if it came out at all. He laid on his side of the Falcon, focused more on finally catching his breath than escaping. Luke watched Lando curiously as he punched in codes, prepping their descent. With a short burst of reality coming back to him, Luke crawled on the exterior of the Falcon to his new-found friend, whose arms wrapped around him in thankful sanctuary.

"Okay, let's go."

The bright lights of Bespin slowly faded into darkness as the hatch closed, lowering them both down into the Falcon. Luke's hand clung to Lando's with all the strength he could muster, mumbling to himself in feverish delirium. The adrenaline was finally wearing off and he could feel all power slowly fading from his system; shock, he supposed, in a brief moment of clarity.

"You must be freezing," Lando said, brushing his windswept and sweat-matted hair out of his eyes, clawing for a blanket. After wrapping it around Luke, he carefully lead them back into the cockpit. "The princess is here for you. She's got your back."

"So do you," Luke weakly responded with a small smile.

The man grinned with a nod, opening the door to the cockpit.

Luke's heart came to life at the familiar sight of Chewbacca at the front seat of the Falcon, with Leia in tow, and the droids gathered round. Her large brown eyes widened and she ran straight to him, taking Luke out of Lando's arms and into hers.

He saw the worry in her eyes and, momentarily, he anticipated the dread of what she'd soon find out. But he couldn't worry about that right now; maybe in a minute. For now, he was safe.

"Leia," he trembled, thankful beyond the tenor of his voice could let out. With her arm around his shoulders, he began to limp to the side-room, where he could finally recover from his ordeal.

[sebstan2020]

Red Ties

Chapter 24

Mary, a sweet Christian girl living in the city of Brooklyn as a nurse had a simple life. She loved her work, her friends and attending church every Sunday and helping Reverend McCarthy. Her life was nothing out of the ordinary. However, it all changed one day when she bumps into the intriguing and intimidating James Barnes, Brooklyn’s notorious mafia boss and is introduced to a world of guns, lust and dominance.

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

Violet looked inside the closet, peeking in from around the wall and clutching her arms tightly. Her heart was beating hard against her chest, and her stomach was tightening into a tight knot. From afar, it looked like an ordinary walk-in closet with hanging rails for clothes and drawers underneath. But as she stepped in further, her eyes were met with something that wasn’t a wardrobe of clothes. Long, thick ropes hung from the rails, tied in neat knots and at equal lengths as they dangled down. Ropes of black, brown and red were lined up next to each other on the first rail. At the next one were belts of different lengths, each with big buckets and silver rings. Some were longer than others, ranging from the longest to the shortest.

At the end, black leather cuffs hung in pairs, again ranging in size and style. Along the next rail were more leather gear, this time in different shapes, almost resembling a harness; another had a large collar on the end dangling down with other straps attached along its length. The next rail had some sort of black leather sleeves with thin laces that went into a point, and next to those were some strange-looking jackets with buckles and straps—a straight jacket.

On the other side were more rails, this time holding implements. The first held long black floggers, ones of different lengths with long strands, some with short ones, and all with thick handles with a small loop at the end for hanging. Next to those were crops, again each of different sizes, some with long handles, some with short, some with thick pads, and some with small pads. Beside them were long, curly whips hanging from their handles, curling at the ends. Thick leather and wooden paddles with different shapes, long canes of different thicknesses, and belts are all hanging on display.

In the middle of the room was a display table with drawers inside holding different garments. Lacey bras and pants, latex sets and naughty role-play outfits, lace stockings and nightgowns, fluffy items, and leather ones

Mary found herself stepping further in, looking up and down at these implements, restraints, garments, and straps. She almost reached out to touch one but pulled back quickly, hiding her hand under her armpit. James stood in the corner of the closet, watching her intently and silently, his heart slamming in his chest. Mary noticed the draws under each rail and was curious about what was in them. She peaked over her shoulder to look at James, who gave a single nod as he guessed what she was silently asking. Pulling open one of the drawers, she sucked in a breath.

Gags upon gags were lined up neatly one after another on a red velvet lining, some with shiny red balls, others with black, and some with so many straps that Mary had no idea how that would even go on. She shut the door and peaked into another one. Blindfolds of different shapes, some with buckles and others just silk ties.

She dare looked in another draw, but curiosity got the best of her, and when she pulled it open, she squeaked and quickly pulled back. Sex toys are all lined up neatly in lines pressed into crisp velvet. Long rubber ones in the shape of a teardrop; others small and fat; metal ones that resembled a bullet. Others are in the shape of penises, some with realistic features and others more simple.

James didn’t bother telling her to not look in the draws; she had to see for herself who he was. Mary stumbled back slightly and turned to look down at the other draws on the other side. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for what was inside, but she pulled one draw open, and surprisingly, it wasn’t as bad.

Leather hoods and masks were laid in the draw, along with thick latex gloves that were shiny and slim. The rest of the draws were the same. Nipples, clamps, small locks, chains, candles, small toys with spikes, electricity equipment, vibrators—you name it, it was there. In a separate draw, there were condoms and lube, after creams and lotions and soothing gels.

Mary took a deep breath, scanning the room before slowly turning to meet James’s gaze. He was leaning against the wall, his hands folded in front of him. He could see she was struggling to muster up the words to ask what the fuck this all was, but he kept his patience and waited.

"So... what is all this?" She asked softly and quietly. James sucked his tongue, clicking it, and he pushed himself off the wall, slowly walking to her with his hands buried deep in his pockets as he too tried to come up with the words to say.

"This is... me.".

Mary wasn't a total idiot. She knew what these items were, or most of them, and she knew their purposes. She also knew that there were people out there who liked this sort of thing, but James? Was he one of those—someone who enjoyed the feeling of pain on his skin? From her time with him, he seemed like such a strong and confident man.

"So you have this done to you?" She said it slowly, and James laughed, shaking his head and licking his lower lip. He shouldn't laugh, really, but the thought of him letting someone take control of him and make him submit was the funniest thing he had ever heard. 

"No, I do this to women," he explained, and Mary realised it all. This is who he is: a man of control and dominance. a man who liked to inflict pain on them and watch them squirm beneath his feet. a man who enjoyed being served and waited on like a king, to not only receive pleasure but to give back in very strange ways.

"Oh" was all Mary could reply with, and James swallowed. For the first time in forever, he was nervous, and he watched Mary closely as she took another look at everything. Oh, of course, how could she be so stupid? He was the one in control, not the woman; he was the one using all these toys, implements, and chains on them to please him.

"I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't want to scare you. You're so innocent, and I wasn't sure how you would react," he admitted, and she turned to him, tilting her head.

"Do you want to do those things to me?" She asked, raising her brows slightly, and James took a deep breath before nodding. Fuck, yes, he wanted to do those things for Mary. Over the last few weeks, he has slipped in a few sirs when he could and permission to come, and whilst Mary believed it was all part of the sex, which it was, he was really trailing it out on her to see if she would fit the part, and she most certainly did.

"Yes," he whispered, and Mary hitched her breath up, hugging herself tighter.

She didn't know what to think. Never mind what she thought—what the hell would God think? Was this something he'd approve of? Is this a sin or a crime? Would she be judged for it and sent straight to tell the story of the moment she fell into this world? Her mind was a fuzzy cloud of thoughts with no answers, and Mary scratched her head.

"Oh, my god," she whispered. She hadn't expected this at all. Learning that the man she liked, who had been the only thing on her mind over the last few months of meeting him, wanted to do dirty and naughty things to her, and being the sweet Christian girl she was, would that be the right thing for her to do? but her mind was still curious.

"So do you tie people up and use these on them?" She reached for one of the slender whips, running the leather through her finger tips, which were surprising soft to the touch.

"Yes, but not all the time," although bondage was a favourite of his.

"It's called BDSM. It stands for bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism, and masochim. In this case, I'm the dominant, and the other person is the submissive." He wanted to say she'd be the submissive, but he had to tread carefully with his words.

"What does that mean?".

"It means they will submit to me while following my rules. If they follow them, they'll be rewarded; if they don't, they'll be punished. The dominant is the one in control," he explained, leaning against the display table in the middle of the room.

Mary was struck with silence, and she took a deep breath, looking around again. She couldn't quite believe it all. She wished James had told her sooner. Perhaps she could have understood it all earlier and done some research before continuing to see him. but would that have put her off him? It was what James had feared, which is why he had waited this long.

"I don't know what to say. It's all  so."She didn't have words, and James sighed. He wanted to sit down and explain it all to her, tell her what each thing in his closet of toys could do, make her feel, and tell her his fantasies about her submitting to him. But something else was on his mind, and while she was in a state of newness, he might as well come clean about that.

"There's something else I need to tell you," he said softly, and Mary froze, biting her lower lip. Was it more to do with his hobby of dominating women? Was he into some crazy, fucked-up shit? She had heard from Anya that there were people out there who enjoyed the really fucked-up stuff, like piss play.

"Don't tell me you like piss play," she blurted out, and James looked at her, confused, for a moment before shaking his head and letting out a breath. He certainly wasn't into that, and the thought that Mary may have thought he was was also funny to him.

"No, something else," he said, taking her hand and leading her out of the sex closet, bringing her down to his office. Mary hadn't been in here much, the only time being when he showed her it the first time she came here. To her, it was an ordinary office—nothing that seemed off, although she thought the same about the walk-in closet, and now she's finding out it holds all his kinky toys and whips.

James took a deep breath, turning to her with his fingers fiddling with each other.

"I told you I was an accountant, and I had my own business with the government, dealing with weapons," he started. There was no point beating around the bush; he needed to get to the pooint, and Mary nodded.

"Well, I'm not. I'm not an accountant, and I don't work with the government." Mary hugged herself again, unintentionally taking a step back from him, creating a larger space of distance.

"I'm a mobster."

Mary stared forward, eyes wide, lips parted, her arms hugging herself even tighter than when she found out about his kinky hobbies. A mobster? A gangster is someone of an organised crime gang, a man who commits unlawful crimes.

"A mobster?" she whispered. She knew full well what that was; she didn't have to go home and research one to know that they were the most violent and deadly people on the planet. the kind of people you don't want to run into or have any business with. people like Al Capone, John Dillinger, and Pablo Escobar. Those people who have gotten away with murder and crime over centres.

James was one of them.

"Yes," he said seriously, and he reached over the side of his desk, pulling open a drawer and pulling out his piece, laying it flat on the table. Mary gasped, tightening her hold to protect herself as she stared at the gun on the table.

"My family has been in the organised crime gang for years, and when my father died, he handed it down to me," he explained.

"Again, I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how." He said it softly, his voice slightly breaking as Mary shuffled further back.

"Have you murdered anyone?" She was scared to ask, and the tears welling up behind her eyes were about to come out. James didn't want to answer; he didn't want to scare her or make her run away, but lying would get him nowhere, and he sighed. There was no denying the truth.

"Yes," he answered.

Mary sucked in a breath, a feeling of panic rising over her, threatening to consume her, like the ground was trying to eat her up. She didn't want to believe it; she wanted it to be a crazy dream and that she would wake up and everything would be as it was before she arrived today. She paced the office floor, trying to control her breathing.

"Mary" James stood, concering in his voice as he stepped over to her, reaching to touch her and give her comfort, but she backed off, holding her hands up in defence.

"No, you lied to me; you said you were this accountant, and..." She wasn't even sure how to communicate, and James sighed softly, desperately wanting to grab her, hold her, and have her listen to him.

"I didn't want to scare you off.".

"Oh well, you've certainly done that now. I mean, you're a criminal; you broke the law; you should be in prison," she said in a flsuter, waving her hands around and stuttering over her words.

"I mean, were you ever going to tell me this?" she asked.

"Yes, I was, but I didn't want to lose you; I was trying to find the right time to tell you," he tried to defend himself.

"Oh my god," Mary huffed, rubbing her hands over her face. Her mind was so confused. He had lied to her this whole time, made himself out to be someone he wasn't, and waited until she was in deep with him to tell her. a selish man doing something for himself.

"Mary" James tried again, but she pulled back and held her finger up at him to stop.

"I just... I need some time, James; I can't." She flung the office door open, storming down the hallway to the front of the house, james hot on her heels.

"Mary, wait, please, let me explain," he jogged after her as she flew out of the house, running to her car, and he stopped at the steps, sighing heavily as he watched her pull out aburptly and zoom off as fast as she could. He had lost.

Chapter 25

Hey I hope you like this chapter, what do you think will happen next, let me know in the comments

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[jadedrrose]

Becoming One

A cute little wedding fic for Law! I made a visual thing for this, you can find it here. I plan on making a part 2 to this, possibly with smut. We’ll see ;)

Warnings: pure fluff. Fem reader, she/her pronouns and the word “wife” are used. It’s 5 am and I’m sleepy so I hope there’s no mistakes lol

The anticipation was killing you. Spending most of your day cooped up in the Strawhat girl’s quarters was nice for a while, but the longer you sat in there, the more you wanted time to somehow speed up, move impossibly fast up until the time of the ceremony; and then you’d want time to nearly freeze.

As you sat at the vanity, Nami doing your hair and Robin helping with  your makeup, Ikkaku pulling all of your clothing for the evening out, you stared deeply into your own eyes, wanting nothing more than to get to Law and finally become one with him. But at the same time, you feel nervous, anxious that the entire thing would fly by and become a simple fleeting memory that you’d struggle to remember fully in the future. 

You were at least thankful for the snail-cameras that would help capture moments of the day permanently. 

Trying to refocus your attention onto something other than your worries, you lazily watched as Robin’s hand moved back and forth in front of your face, dusting a light blush onto your cheeks. Rather than the feeling of your bridal robe suddenly feeling too constricting, you focused on the feeling of Nami’s fingers running through your hair as she styled it to your liking, pinning white flowers to the golden ivy headpiece you wore, 

As the two of the Strawhat girls wrapped up their work on your hair and makeup, Ikkaku came over with a set of jewelry for you to wear. A simple golden necklace with a small pearl attached to the center, and a pair of golden dangle earrings that glimmered underneath the light in the room. She gently pulled the necklace around your neck, locking it in place for you from the back. You then took the earrings from her with shaky hands, practically trembling as you put them on. 

Lastly, you turned around to sit the opposite direction on the plush velvet stool, slowly looking up as your eyes fluttered open from a short moment of having them closed. In front of you was your dress. You’d picked it out, of course, but seeing it waiting for you to put it on and the thought of actually getting married in it had you tearing up.

“Y/n, don’t cry yet,” Nami offered a small laugh, “You’ll ruin the makeup before we can even get you in the dress.”

“Sorry… I just can’t believe it,” you breathed, taking it all in as you stood up to begin getting properly dressed.

The dress was handed off to you, and you took it behind the dressing screen, hooking the hanger up top the screen to free your hands as you untied the silk ties of your white robe. Not wanting to dirty it, you folded it up and set it aside before taking in a deep breath to attempt to ground yourself.

Before removing the dress from its hanger, you looked over at yourself in the mirror, pinching and pulling at the white lingerie you’d picked to wear underneath the dress. It wasn’t anything crazy or scandalous looking, but you still felt nervous in it. The bra was of course strapless and thin so that it wouldn’t be visible from underneath your dress, but even still you felt as though you weren’t covered enough. Same could be said about the lace panties and garter belt on your thigh, only they were slightly thicker. Would Law like it? Will he think I look pretty enough…? With a shake of your head, you forgot any thoughts about not looking good enough and moved to get your dress.

You easily slipped into your dress, holding it up as you stepped out, turning around so the girls could help tie up the corset back.

Nami moved your hair aside with great carefulness, not wanting to mess up her previous work. Robin and Ikkaku began to work at the laces, looping them up correctly before tugging the corset closed, finishing it off with a bow that hung down your backside.

As they did so, Nami grabbed your heels and Robin readjusted your jewelry. You stepped into the heels and took in a deep breath as you turned to the mirror, almost afraid of seeing the entire thing put together.

With wide eyes, you stared at the image reflecting in front of you, bringing one hand up to your lips in surprise.

You looked gorgeous.

On each side of you, the girls looked over the outfit and the three of them nearly began crying themselves.

“You guys can’t cry, cause then I’ll cry,” you said with shaky breaths, a smile breaking out on your delicately painted lips. 

“‘m not crying, my eyes just burn,” Ikkaku chuckled, wrapping an arm around your right, holding you close. 

Nami and Robin joined in, wrapping you in a warm loving embrace. 

“You look absolutely amazing,” Nami giggled, resting her head on your shoulder. “Law would have to be blind to think otherwise,” she joked.

“Traffy isn’t that mindless,” Robin added. “He’s a smart man, to marry someone as beautiful as you, y/n.”

“Mhmm,” Ikkaku hummed in agreement, “Captain doesn’t just do things without reason. Clearly, this is something he really wants. And honestly, the crew kinda knew before you…”

“Knew what?” you raised an eyebrow, confused.

“That he wanted to marry you. The amount of times we had to cover his ass while he searched for rings on every island, threatening cleaning duty for a month if we let anything slip to you,” she clarified. “It’s cute, honestly. He’s so in love with you.”

“S-stop it,” you shyly mumbled, blushing at your friends’ words. 

“Alright,” Nami smiled warmly. “It’s nearly time. Let’s get dressed and get y/n to her husband.”

With that, the three girls left you to get into their bridesmaid dresses, and you found yourself grinning to yourself at the thought of Law being mere moments away from becoming your husband.

–

“This is insane,” Law sighed, looking over all the pieces that went to his suit. “So much shit to put on when I’m gonna end up shirtless anyway.”

“Captain! You have to be formal!” Shachi scolded, pointing a finger at Law. 

“Yeah! Y/n wouldn’t be too pleased to see you show up in just pants and shoes.”

“She wouldn’t be marrying me if that were true,” Law rolled his eyes. “But I’m gonna put it on… we’ll just have to see how long it lasts.”

As Law began adding the layers of clothing to his top half, the boys started making bets with each other on how long it would take before Law took it all off.

 “I’m betting on two hours!”

“Two?! I’d be impressed to see him last one…”

Law shook his head with a light smile, pulling on his coat and putting on any final pieces.

“Well?” 

They all turned around, smiles lighting up on their faces as they began shouting and jumping, cheering Law on and hyping him up.

“Captain! You look great!” Bepo started, holding his paws up to his face.

Penguin began whistling and the three of them broke out into obnoxious laughter, Law watching them with a smirk, letting out a chuckle.

Grabbing his hat and putting it on, he headed out from the room with the boys following behind him.

–

It was nearly sunset, indicating that it was time for things to get started. The deck of the Thousand Sunny was decorated for the occasion, mixes of white flowers with light yellows and your favorite color adorning every inch of the ship. All courtesy of Franky, of course.

Law stood at the side of the deck, arms crossed as he anxiously waited for the wedding to start. With the sky turning a nice dusty shade of pink, the deck suddenly went silent as Brook began playing his violin.

It was a sweet, soft melody that played as the doors to the girls quarters opened, and out came Nami, Robin and Ikkaku, soon followed by you emerging from the room, a bouquet of flowers in your hands as you looked down at your feet, carefully walking up to the grass on the deck. Law felt his breath hitch as he captured the sight of you, dressed in the most elegant white garments he’d ever seen, all heightened by your beauty. And when you finally looked away from your feet, eyes moving up to meet his, Law swore that you looked like an angel, an ethereal being that he couldn’t believe was about to be his wife.

When you finally reached the little makeshift altar, it felt as though time had completely come to a halt, freezing the entire world around you. LIke nobody but you and Law existed, nothing but two lovers peacefully gazing at each other with adoration. 

“It’s too bad I can’t kiss you yet,” you lightly laughed with tears in your eyes, a bright and warm smile on your face as you looked into Law’s gray eyes.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Law breathed, quiet enough that nobody would be able to hear your conversation over the music.

And just as the music quieted down, you mouthed an “I love you” to Law, who nodded in return before you both turned to face your audience, taking the image of everybody in. With another moment, you turned back to each other, preparing to say your vows quietly, at Law’s request. He’d said something about only wanting you to hear his words of intimacy, because no other being on the planet deserved it. Just you. It made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, flattered that he thought so highly of you, it was like he practically worshiped you.

With that, it was time to start.

You desperately tried to reel in everything, letting the moment sink in so that it wouldn’t all become a blur. You listened intently as Law stumbled over his words, finding it endearing that he was so flustered because of you. Then it was your turn, and you did no better, nearly forgetting what you were supposed to say.

But you got the words out, and as soon as you did, Law slipped a ring onto your left hand, you then sliding a golden band onto his tattooed finger, watching lovingly as it slipped over the inked ‘E’.

And then finally, it came time to kiss and seal everything officially.

You knew Law was typically shy about showing physical intimacy in public, but today he surprised you, holding your jaw with one hand as he wrapped the other around your waist, bringing you close to him. Your hands landed against his chest, gently clutching at the fabric as you fluttered your eyes shut, angling your face upward, allowing your lips to meet his; a roar of cheers that sounded muffled to you, too engulfed in becoming married to Law, followed.

After a brief moment that despite feeling like it lasted hours, you wished it had lasted longer, Law just barely pulled away and looked down at you, a handsome smile on his lips. 

“I love you, Trafalgar Y/n,” he muttered, lips barely brushing against yours as he pulled you in for one more kiss, holding you tighter than he’d ever held you before.

[milkbreadandtadpoles]

precious, precious yuji

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒。⋆୨୧˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒

snippet: (1k!) ur at the movies and see a poor, sweet boy and flirt with him very subtly but big brain moment because in your head the two of you are already married (not rlly) reader is described with feminine, female characteristics, but that's all!

warnings: yuji being sweet and naive and dumb, reader being an obvious flirt (dark connotations because their love is obsession and violent.. cute aggression, if you will) probably poorly edited

author's note: this is so self-indulgent. story time- i was at the movie theaters and saw this angel of a boy. only person i could connect it to was the sweetest, sweetest yuji. all of my characters are above the age of eighteen, because 2d characters can be whatever i wish. hope you enjoyyyyyyy *ੈ♡⸝⸝🪐༘⋆

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒。⋆୨୧˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒

Your stomach hurts.

The sweatpants hang loose on you, the fabric of your shirt tight against your tummy. Scalp tugging against the hair ties against your midline- the lipgloss slathered on your pouty lips sparkles underneath the dim theatre. Because goddamn it, if your stomach is going to hurt you’re going to look good, too.

Your friends, a close girlfriend and her annoying, annoying boyfriend gather around the screen to print the tickets. And as you do, you wander, surveying the snacks and busy bodies that gather to get their goods and go to their selected box.

And-

Oh. Oh, he’s cute.

Whoever you tagged along with melts into a fine mist, eyes sharply cutting to the boy who stands by the register. His pants are baggy, dark- there’s a chain with keys clicked and dangling on the thick fabric. A one size too big company shirt poorly tucked in the cargo, the black belt snug between the loops emphasizes his waist.

Despite the dinner you just had, hunger finds you.

And his face. Preciously sharp with a touch of fat around the apples of his cheeks, tan in color. Buzzed hair, died a soft color. Eyes wide and-

He looks kinda stupid.

Your lips quirk- how endearing. A puppy dog about to read your ticket and tell you which numbered room to go to. There’s a glint on your face, eyes rolling up and down the poor boy’s figure as you take a step closer with your friends.

Plucking the ticket from her (because your best friend’s name doesn’t matter right now, despite the three years of friendship), you saunter towards the booth.

The boyfriend urges your attention to ask you a question. But his eyes catch you, tracing each atom of your curvature as you turn your head and answer with an annoyed look. Can’t he see that you’re busy?

As you turn back around, the boy is sitting on the register table. And you blink, languidly walking forward. One foot in front of the other, the reconciliation that he might be bad at his job is frowning. But he’s just so pretty you can’t find yourself turned off just yet. He makes eye contact with you, and hops off the booth.

Just a few inches taller. You smile.

“Hi.” You thank whatever force of nature that made your voice so dreamy, so soft and syrupy.

He leans towards you as you hold out the ticket, manicured nails expectantly waiting to hear what he sounds like. Openly, you gaze at his face. There are three pimple patches on his cheeks, yet hardly a blemish in sight. A naive twinkle in his eye, as though he might be too good for this world. Too good for you. Something feral claws in your gut, but your face is serene, perfectly content with this little mouse in the palm in your hand.

A breath of surprise fills your lungs when his fingers, so long and thick and pretty, reach towards the small piece of paper to turn it his way.

“Sorry, can I see-?”

You tilt the paper, a soft, darling laugh leaving you. The boyfriend, your girlfriend, watch with a knowing, amused expression- you can feel it in the back of your skull.

“Mhm, sorry.” You murmur.

“It’s okay,” There’s a nervous laugh that leaves him, too, and you’ve never wanted to wrap your hands around a boy’s throat faster because he’s still holding onto the paper, still looking at it as though reading number was a jigsaw puzzle. An egotistical, unrealistic part of yourself believes that he’s looking at the rings that sit upon your freshly polished fingertips.

“That’ll be theatre twelve, on the left side..”

You look at his name tag- Yuji.

How fucking cute.

The stars above have the two of your tilting your heads to stare at each other for a second longer than a casual glance. And a serpentine smile flits your face. He sweetly, nervously grins back as you say the sweetest thank you! You even wave, like the silly, cute thing you are- yin and yang with the devilish desire to rip him apart with your teeth, to watch him twitch under your grasp. Poor boy- it's a good thing he's on the clock, paid to be nice.

Looking back, you motion your friends to keep up with you as you go to grab the M&Ms you’ve been craving since back at the Asian restaurant. They trail behind, and you walk with a sway, knowing he’s watching you instead of guiding the next round of movie goers.

It’s your turn to buy, you offered. The boyfriend paid for your dinner (as he does every time because he makes a little too much money not to spoil his girlfriend’s best friend), so it’s only right to pay an outrageous thirty dollars for your candy and their drinks.

You’re waiting for said best friend to fill up your soon to be shared soda, and catch sight of Yuji again. He’s wandering away from his post, passing right by your seeing eyes. Heedlessly, you watch as the manager questions him.

“Where are you going?”

Yuji must do this often, based on the expression his supervisor wears.

“To the bathroom?”

The manager, with curly hair and a baritone voice, scoffs, watching Yuji walk off with gaunt, unsurprised eyes. Your friends gather your attention, the bandwidth of a carrot, and you smile with your candy in hand- your ticket in hand.

It takes a moment before you’re actually following them, gaze on the boy walking to the bathroom and digging around in his pocket. What could he possibly be doing- whoops.

The two of you make eye contact again; this time you look away, a prickle of embarrassment spreading through your fingers as you nudge the ticket into your purse pocket.

“Come on,” the boyfriend complains, motioning to you with his hands as to say let’s fucking go.

And you shrug, feet falling into place with them as you go to theatre twelve.

“Sorry, he’s cute.”

[roosterscockpit]

His Little Girl | Bradley Bradshaw x reader P. 24

click here for the master list

I hope you are enjoying the back to back to back posts! There is more underway! I know the Halloween HC went up, but it is a little thing on its own! Leia has yet to meet the squad 🥺 I’m so excited for you all. I’m really getting into this little family 🥹 I hope you are too! I love you all! 💕 Happy reading and enjoy! 🫶🏼

A/n: Bradley learns a thing or two from Billy 🫣 and little Leia meets more people, their reactions are 🥰

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: cursing, crying, anxiety, playful annoyance, and anger, but MORE LOVE ❤️

Please don't take my work, I will find you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the banquet, Bradley drove the two of you back to your house. It was a little past midnight so you entered the house quietly. Billy and Bri were asleep on the couch with Leia. You went up to them and tapped Bri lightly. She opened her eyes and smiled at you. She sat up. 

“Oh my god, y/n. You’re hot! What the fuck?”

Billy propped up and looked over at Bri, “What?” Then he looked at you, “Wow! You look nice, y/n.”

You smiled, “Thank you.” You said in a whisper. 

You brushed Leia’s hair from her face. She was sound asleep. Bradley came around the couch. He smiled and waved to Bri and Billy. Billy fist-bumped with Bradley.

“You clean up well, Turkey.” He nodded at Bradley.

“Thank you, Billy.” Bradley smiled slightly and awkwardly.

Bri handed Leia to Bradley. Bradley held her against him. Her head rested on his shoulder and her arms dangling by her sides. Leia nuzzled her face into Bradley’s neck. Bradley kissed her forehead and rocked her as she stirred around slightly. 

You let Billy and Bri know that you were going to go and stay with Bradley for the night and that Leia would be coming as well. Billy walked out of the house with the three of you. He went into his car and grabbed Leia’s extra car seat. He showed it to Bradley.

“You know how to put one in your car?” Billy raised his brows.

“Uhh.” Bradley looked over to you and back to Billy.

“Of course, you don’t Duck.” He walked over with Bradley to the Bronco. 

Billy opened the door to Bradley’s bronco. He looked at Bradley, “Damn, good luck getting her into the car.” He pushed forward the passenger seat and went into the back seat. “It’s hella cramped back here, Bradshaw. Holy fuck.”

Bradley chuckled and handed Leia to you.

Bradley leaned into the car. Billy was sitting in the back seat and handed Bradley the car seat. “All right, Peacock. This is what you do. Put the car seat on the chair, anchor it down with the hooks here, and then string the buckle through the belt loops. After that click the buckle into the thing and play with the belt until it locks and is tight.”

Bradley followed the instructions Billy gave him and he successfully put the car seat in. Billy gave Bradley a high-five. “Congrats, dad. You successfully put a car seat in your car.” He patted him on the back. “Now when you put her in, clip the chest buckle first. Position it right with her chest. Nothing lower nor higher. Because if you stop abruptly you don't want to break her collarbone. The chest dissipates the impact since its a larger surface area. Then you have to buckle the two thigh straps into the main buckle between her legs. Then that's it. A little different from a booster seat but it’ll keep her safe in your piece of shit car.” He chuckled.

Bradley got out of the car and Billy climbed out.

Bradley laughed back and shook hands with Billy, “Thank you, man.”

Billy shook his head and pulled Bradley in for a hug, “We are family now, birdbrain. Anything you need help with don’t hesitate. I had to learn when I helped y/n.”

Bradley pulled back and nodded, “Thank you so much.”

Billy hit Bradley on his arm.

Billy came and gave you and Leia a kiss good night, then returned back into the house. You handed Leia back to Bradley. He gently placed Leia into her car seat. He positioned her head to lie on one of the sides and he buckled her in. He fixed the passenger seat and helped you into the car. He drove back to his house. He took Leia from the car and the three of you went into his house. Bradley brought Leia up to his room and laid her down on the bed. 

The two of you went into the bathroom and cleaned up for bed. Bradley hung up his uniform and came out with one of his old Top Gun shirts for you to wear to bed. He helped you slip out of your dress and he helped put his shirt on. You sat on the bathtub and he took off your heels. He rubbed your feet tenderly and gave them kisses. He went to your overnight bag and grabbed your makeup wipes. He gently wiped the makeup from your face. He held your cheek and stroked his thumb over it. “You are beautiful, sweetheart. How did I get so lucky?” He kissed your nose. He went to throw away the makeup wipe and he grabbed your brush. He sat on the bathtub and patted his lap for you to sit on. 

You sat on his lap and he leaned back slightly so he could brush your hair. He was being so gentle and it felt so good. When he was done tapped your thigh and you stood up. You stood in front of the mirror and he turned you to him. He grabbed your face lotion and applied some to his fingertips. He lightly put the lotion on your face, massaging you lightly. He gave you a kiss on your lips. “Now you’re ready for bed baby.”

You smiled up at him, “How did you know to do all that, Brad?”

He tucked your hair behind your ear, “I remember when we were in college and you used to get ready for bed you would always do this routine.” 

You blushed and placed your hands on his. You gently nuzzled into his hand and placed a soft kiss on his palm. “I love you, Bradley Bradshaw. I love that you remember the small things.”

He rubbed your arm, “I love you too, baby girl.” 

He brought you down the hall to the spare room. He got into bed with you and wrapped his arms around you. You fell asleep instantly. 

You woke up and looked at the time. It was 3 AM. You looked around and Bradley was gone. You saw little light coming from the crack of the bedroom door. You went to the door and opened it slightly. You could hear music playing softly down the hall. You followed the light and the music. Bradley’s bedroom door was cracked. You peaked through. 

Bradley was holding Leia. She had her arms wrapped around his neck and her face nestled into his neck. Bradley held her with one arm and his other hand up in her hair. He was slowly scratching her head. He had his cheek laid against her head and he had his eyes closed. He swayed slowly with her and sang the song softly. 

“And every time I close my eyes I thank the Lord that I’ve got you, and you’ve got me too.”

Leia got up slightly and wiped her tears, Bradley kissed her cheek and wiped her tears. “You’re okay, sweetheart. Daddy’s here.” She laid back down and he rubbed her back. He placed a kiss on the top of her head and continued to rock and comfort her. 

You watched Bradley as he swayed with Leia and comforted her. He didn’t see you watching as he had his moment with Leia. You bit your lip and tears welled up in your eyes. Your heart felt so full. Bradley’s dad mode had kicked in so quickly. He was such a natural as if he had been doing this all his life. He didn’t miss a beat. In the last 72 hours of finally meeting and being with Leia, he was perfect. He continued to sing your mom and dad’s wedding song to Leia as he danced her back to sleep.

“To think of all the nights I’ve cried myself to sleep, You really ought to know how much you mean to me.”

You went back to the spare room and sat on the bed. You heard the door open and Bradley’s eyes met with yours. He smiled and closed the door. 

“You okay, baby?” He sat next to you and put his arm around you placing a kiss on your temple. 

“I am perfect, Bradley.” You kissed him on his lips. 

The next morning after waking up and getting ready, You, Bradley, and Leia got back into your car. 

He looked over at you and gestured for you to lean over the middle console. He leaned into your ear and whispered very softly so Leia wouldn’t hear you two. 

“How do you feel about Leia meeting the squad?”

“I think that’s a great idea. I think she can learn how to be the best backseater from Bob.” 

Bradley nodded in approval. 

“I will see what they’re all up to then.” He sent out a group text to the squad. 

Bradley: What’s everyone doing?

Hangman: Relaxing. 

Payback: Just with the wife.

Bob: I’m with Phoenix and Fanboy.

Coyote: I was sleeping. Hungover from yesterday.

Mav: With our darling Admirals, Hondo, and Penny.

Phoenix: Why?

Bradley: Super random, but Legoland anyone?

Fanboy: ME ME ME!

Hangman: I’M IN.

Mav: We are only coming to babysit…

Payback: On my way!

Phoenix: Uhhh DUH.

Bob: I get sick on rides, guys…

Coyote: Fuck this hangover. Just need some Gatorade. Be there in 5!

He looked at you and smiled.

“Baby, this is such a pick-up-and-go kind of thing, but how do you feel about Legoland for a late birthday present from me?”

You pulled back and looked at him shocked. “Wait, really?”

He bit his lower lip and nodded with devious eyes.

“Yea! Yea, let’s do it!” You said in a loud whisper.

Bradley kissed you and started the car. He adjusted the rearview mirror to see Leia. 

“Sweetheart, how do you feel about going to Legoland?” 

She squealed, “Wait! Really?” 

Bradley turned around to look at her, “Oh I’m dead serious, pumpkin.” 

Leia sprawled out all her limbs and screamed at the top of her lungs, “YESSSSSSS!!”

The next thing you knew, you were all on your way to Carlsbad to go to Legoland. Leia was not only getting one present by going to Legoland but she was also going to get to meet some of Bradley’s friends. Leia fell asleep 5 minutes into the ride to Carlsbad. You and Bradley had a conversation about whom you think she would like the most of everyone.

Bradley looked at you, “I think she’ll like Bob the most."

You shook your head, “I think she’ll probably like Phoenix the most, Bradley.”

“You know you’re right. You know, y/n. Phoenix is the only one that knows about Leia.”

Your head snapped to Bradley, “How did she find that out?”

Bradley gulped, “I was nervous as hell after saying bye to you when I left for the mission. She and I were talking and I told her about Leia.”

You put your hand on his lap and rubbed it, “Well I’m really glad you had someone to talk to when you were there. I’m sure it was very nerve-wracking.”

He took a deep stuttered breath, “You have no idea, y/n.” He started to get tense. 

You massaged his thigh, “Hey, we don’t have to talk about this if you’re not ready.” 

Bradley briefly took his hand off go the wheel and placed it on yours, “Thank you, y/n.” 

You smiled at Bradley in a comforting way, “I will always be here for you, Brad. I will always be here to listen.” You squeezed his hand.

Bradley smiled back at you, “Thank you, y/n. That really does mean so much to me.” He squeezed your hand back.

You leaned back into your chair. “Actually, I change my mind.”

He cocked his back, “What?”

“I really think Leia will fancy Hangman.” 

Bradley turned his head slowly to you. “I will stomp on these breaks right now, y/n.” 

You started to laugh, “I mean he’s a handsome guy. If she’s anything like her mom-”

Bradley cut you off, “No. Shut up y/n.” He was so serious. 

You wanted to push his patience, “I mean I’m just saying, honey. Hangman is-”

He stopped you again, “Y/n, Seresin, and I made amends during the mission and all, but I do not need for you to share the details on how you think he’s hot.”

You had him right where you wanted him, “Is that jealousy that I am smelling off of you? Huh, Rooster? Is someone getting a little TENSE?”

He knew what you were doing, you never called him by his call sign unless you were gonna push his buttons. “Do not start, y/n. Don’t call me Rooster. You’re asking for it, sweetheart.”

You leaned over the middle console and looked at him while he drove, “Or you’ll do what, lieutenant?”

He looked at you from the corner of his eye, “I’m not giving you that satisfaction.” He smirked.

You leaned back in your seat, “I put money that she’s going to want to be his ride partner all day today.” 

He turned to you, “$100 and a date?”

“You’re going down, Bradshaw.” You put your fist out and he bumped it. “Deal.”

You finally arrived at Legoland and everyone was waiting for you guys in the parking garage. 

Bradley got out and called over to everyone. They all waved and made their way over to your car. Bradley came around and opened your door. Everyone was so excited to see you, they all gave you a hug one by one and greeted you. Bradley went to open the door behind you to get little Leia. She was still asleep so he carried her out. As soon as he closed the door everyone got silent and just watched as Bradley carried a slumped tired child. 

Phoenix was the first to come forward. She covered her mouth and had wide eyes as she approached the sleeping child that was slung over Bradley’s chest.

“oh my gosh! Y/n is this her?” She placed her hand on your arm and went up to the sleeping child. She brushed Leia’s hair that was covering her face back and her mouth flew open in awe, “Oh my gosh, she is beautiful!” Phoenix caressed Leia’s cheek and patted Bradley on the back. Bradley looked over to Phoenix and smiled at her. 

“She is so precious!” Phoenix grabbed Leia's limp hand and help it, “Oh my goodness! Her little hands!” 

Coyote chuckled at Phoenix, “Careful now Phoenix. You’re going to catch the baby fever!” They all started to laugh together. 

Phoenix glared at Coyote and rolled her eyes, “Whatever, Coyote.”

Payback looked at Bradley surprised, “Damn Rooster, already playing daddy duty?” He looked at him and laughed.

Fanboy egged it on with Payback, “Yea man, who would have ever thought out of all of us you would want to play dad.” He started to laugh too.

Bob looked at Fanboy and Payback confused. He looked over at Rooster and was more reassuring, “I think it looks good on you, Rooster!” He nodded his head.

Hangman’s lips were parted as he looked at you, “Y/n, I didn’t know you had a kid?” 

Coyote came and rested a hand on your shoulder, “Legoland makes so much more sense now.” He chuckled. “I thought we were just a bunch of grown-ass adults that wanted to come to Legoland. Now I don’t feel so guilty over being overly excited.” He took a sip from his Gatorade bottle.

Leia started to stir and she looked at Bradley, “Are we here?” 

Bradley kissed her temple and moved her hair as she started to wake up, “We are here, sweetheart and there are some friends I want you to meet. They’re pilots like Mav and me.” Her eyes shot wide open when Bradley said “Pilots.” Your daughter turned around slowly with a smile on her sleepy face. 

You looked at her and smiled, “Good morning, baby! Did you have a good nap?” She rubbed her eyes and nodded.  

You turned to the guys, all of their smiles wiped off of their faces, just pure shock. Their jaws were all hanging open. The Gatorade fell out of Coyote’s mouth and he dropped the bottle. It splattered all over the place. You started to giggle, and you looked back at Bradley holding Leia. With him smiling and Leia smiling, their faces next to each other, there was no way they could deny that she was his. 

The guys looked at you and then your daughter and Bradley. It was silent. You, Bradley, and Phoenix started to laugh. 

Bob stuttered slightly, “She…She looks exactly like Rooster?” He was so confused. But then a smile washed over his face. “Wow! Congratulations you two!” He went over to give Leia a high five, “Hi, I'm Bob.” 

She gave him a high five, “I’m Leia. Is Bob your real name or call sign?” She smiled as her little hand lingered on Bob’s hand. “Call sign.” He turned to Phoenix surprised. 

Fanboy blinked at Bradley trying to process the twins that appeared in front of him, “Rooster, you have a kid? When were you going to tell us?” He patted your back as he passed through to meet your daughter. 

Bradley fist-bumped Fanboy, “You’re meeting her now, man.” 

Bradley put her down so she could meet everyone. She stayed close to Bradley, she was nervous. She had her back pressed against his thighs and Bradley placed his hands on her shoulders, “You’re okay, sweetheart.” 

She stood there quietly and smiled. Fanboy put a fist out, “Hi there, my call sign is Fanboy.” She fist-bumped him back, “Hi Fanboy, I'm Leia.” She said softly, still smiling.

“She’s beautiful y/n!” Fanboy looked over at you.

Payback made his way over to Bradley and Leia, “That’s so crazy man. How old is she?” He had his hand out to shake Leia’s. She grabbed his hand and shook it. “It’s lovely to meet you, sweetie. I’m Payback.” 

“Hi I’m Leia, it's nice to meet you.”

Bradley rubbed Leia’s shoulders to help calm her nerves as his friends met her, “She’s 6. Actually, she just turned 6. That’s why we are here. It’s a birthday present from her mom and me.” You let Bradley do all the talking, you could see he was so excited to show off his little girl to his friends. 

Hangman chuckled, “Well, Rooster. I didn’t think you had it in you.” He paused and looked at Bradley. “But you do look good, Rooster.” He smiled and came to Leia. “Hey cutie, I’m Hangman.” He knelt down to Leia’s height and put his hand up for a high five. 

“Like the game?” She gave him a sift high-five and they all started laughing. 

“Yes, like the game.” Hangman smiled at Leia.

“I’m Leia, like the princess.” 

Hangman patted her head, “It's nice to meet you, Princess Leia.” Leia blushed.

You looked over at Bradley and mouthed, “You’re going down, Bradshaw.” He shook his head at you.

Coyote threw his arm over your shoulder, “She is beautiful, y/n.”

Bradley cleared his throat and interjected, “Hey, uh yea. Thanks, Coyote. Does that make me beautiful too? Because she looks just like me.” Bradley took off his aviators and smiled cheekily at Coyote. 

Coyote made his way over to Bradley, “Oh Rooster, You’re smoking.” He laughed and fist-bumped Bradley. Coyote squatted down by Leia, “Hi sweetheart, I’m Coyote. It’s great to finally meet you.” He stuck out his finger to Leia. 

Leia grabbed his finger and shook it, “Hi Coyote. I like your call sign. If I get a puppy I want to name them that.”

Coyote patted Leia’s head and stood up. 

You all made your way to the entrance of Legoland. You all waited for the rest of the group to show up before you all entered. Mav and Penny showed up with Hondo. Bradley introduced him to Leia. Hondo took a step back and put his hands over his mouth. 

Hondo lit up with excitement, “Oh no way, Rooster!” He looked at Leia, “My god, she looks just like you.” He put his arms out and Leia hugged him. “Hey, sweetheart. I’m Hondo. I'm a friend of Mav and your dad’s.” 

She was still shy, “Hi Hondo, im Leia.” Then Bradley brought Hondo over to you and introduced you to him.

He placed his hand on the small of your back and stood next to you, “Babe, this is Hondo.” Hondo racked his hand out to you, “It’s lovely to finally meet you. Mav has told me so much about you.” 

You smiled and shook his hand, “It's nice to meet you as well, Hondo. I’m y/n.” 

Hondo looked at Bradley and none, “Beautiful girls, Rooster.” Bradley gave you a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

The last ones to show up were Cyclone and Warlock. 

“God that’s weird to see them in civi’s.” Bradley said with a disgusted look. 

Everyone looked and laughed as they approached. Bradley approached them and shook their hands as well as everyone else. Then Bradley brought them over to you, “Admirals this is my girlfriend, y/n.” “Babe, this is Cyclone and Warlock.” 

You smiled and reached your hand out to Warlock, “It’s a pleasure admiral.” 

He smiled at you, “She’s a keeper,  Rooster.” 

And then you put your hand out to Cyclone, you nodded and smiled, “Admiral, nice to meet you.” He was very straight-faced, he gave you a small smile and grabbed your hand, and shook it. 

“Told you he’s hella serious, babe,” Bradley said under his breath to you. 

Cyclone looked between you and Bradley, “Y/n, you’re far too pretty for this guy.” He let out a laugh. “Thank you, admiral. I know she is.” Bradley laughed. 

“I have one more person for you two to meet if that’s okay.” Bradley looked at them and they both nodded. He made his way over to Phoenix who was holding Leia’s hand. Bradley tapped Phoenix's shoulder and she let go of Leia’s hand. Bradley placed her right in front of him and crouched down behind her. 

He put his hands on her arms giving her some comfort, “Sweetheart, these are more friends of mine. They used to be pilots too.” He pointed to each of them, “This is Cyclone and this is Warlock. Can you go and say hi to them?” She stood there shyly, “It’s okay, baby. I've got you. It's okay.” Bradley nudged her a little towards them. They both came down to her level. 

“Hi, I’m Leia. It's nice to meet you.” They both gave her little handshakes, “It's nice to meet you too, sweetheart.” They both said. She backed up and ran back into Bradley’s arms. He picked her up and went to them. “Sorry, my girl is shy. She’s meeting a lot of people today.” He rubbed her back as she nuzzled her face in his neck to hide. 

“Bradshaw, is she yours?” Cyclone looked at him confused. 

“Yes, sir this is my daughter.” Cyclone and Warlock looked at each other, “How long have you had your daughter, Rooster?”  Warlock interjected. 

“I uh. Well…” Warlock shook his head, smiled, and patted him on the back, “Congratulations, Rooster. She’s a beauty!” 

Cyclone walked around the back of Bradley to look at your daughter. “Hey sweetheart, it's okay.” He gently poked her hand and she looked up. “Oh, she is definitely your daughter, Bradshaw. If she could grow a mustache that is you.” He patted him on the back and laughed, “There is no denying her, Lieutenant.” Bradley laughed. “Congratulations, you’re going to be great.” Cyclone smiled at him. 

“Thank you, sir. With guidance from her mom.” He nodded to you, “I know I’ll be the best I can be.”

After everyone met Leia, you all finally made it into Legoland.

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Now that the cat is out of the bag, Leia has finally met the whole squad 😍 How do you think it will be from here on out? I feel like they’re just going to be obsessed with her 🥺 I’ll see you in the next part, babes! 🫶🏼

​Tag List will be in the comments. Hopefully it works and you’ll get notified 🥺 I am so sorry it hasn’t been working, babes! Thank you for sticking around 🫶🏼

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