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lustbcrne · 2 months

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Sexual Traits - Kaeya

Tagged by: Stolen off le Dash Tagging: If you want it? TAKE IT

bold - applies always. italic - applies sometimes. Striked = personal notes, can be removed (anything in ‘extra’ can be removed, too)

inclinations/habits:

Extra - He usually prefers to top or at the very least hold a power bottom role during sex because he likes feeling in control of himself and the situation overall out of comfort. He'll relinquish the reins to his partner if he sees they prefer it and/or he is trying to get on their good side, but for the most part, he likes being in the more dominant role. A partner who's built enough trust with him makes it easier for him when they want to take charge.

Initiating usually involves him playfully testing the waters with the person in question; baiting, teasing and tempting them until they themself close the distance–this way, he can play off any desires on his part with plausible deniability. In a relationship, he tends to hold himself back a lot at first bc he doesn't want to overwhelm his partner with how much he wants them, esp with the extent of his own urges overall. If his partner gives the okay that he's free to initiate whenever, he WILL run with it. Meaning more frequent touches and flirting to distract them, teasing his partner to stir them up on whims, stealing and wearing nothing but their shirts around their place, the works, until he either gets what he wants or they tell him to curb it back. It is admittedly a mix of both desire for them and lingering self-destructive habit he's built up over the years, but the more secure in a relationship he is, it would tend to lean to the former. That said...

...even outside his genuine high sex drive, he's quite accustomed to having frequent sex to the point of being quite the regular at the Church for checkups after the fact, using it as a transaction/reward in exchange for info from choice contacts who've requested it of him/he himself offered it to, to stave off boredom & especially loneliness ( low-key takes rejection at these times rather hard ), to fight stress ( esp if he hadn't been able to drink in awhile ), to relieve pain ( chronic, emotional/dysphoric, or acquired on the job )/anxiety surges he gets, or rid himself of excess energy after a Dangerous Situation. It became one of his biggest coping mechanisms and means to an end in one shortly after becoming Cavalry Captain, when he realized just how many people had eyes on him/regarded him as quite the pretty face, and how much more favorably they acted towards him when he playfully humored advances. How much they were willing to give him in return for his time and favors he could do. He admittedly disliked it all at first because he had no idea what he was doing and kept getting roped into things he wasn't entirely comfortable with, but the more used to the arrangements he got, the more he figured out his likes/dislikes & how to manage more uncomfortable encounters, the more he grew to genuinely love sex, even like this. He also quickly took up making a habit of gathering blackmail on potential/current partners as a means to ensure these encounters remain on the down low–he has to protect his and the Knights' ( and in a way, the Ragnvindr family's ) reputations, after all. Though he would never use it to coerce partners into anything otherwise, only ever to ensure they don't try to take advantage of him like some people at the start did. If worse comes to worst, he has and still takes measures to get rid of any person trying to take advantage of him/their arrangement or otherwise going too damn far with him.

body/appearance:

Extra - Is AFAB trans male, has considered phalloplasty, but he likes his body as is, even if dysphoria does tend to flare up more often than not. Would consider it actually going through with it if a long-term partner would want him too. He is comfortable being referred to by either male, feminine or neutral terms, though he does prefer male ones more. He has a mole just under his ass on his right leg, and various old burn scars on his right shoulder, upper arm, part of his face and on his left arm–his left arm has the worst of the lot ( barring his right eye ) and requires a brace to help with some movement. There are a couple faded scars here and there from old injuries, and a very faded few from stab and gunshot wounds he'd taken over the years that he's clumsily patched up himself to avoid heading to the Church.

He has had top surgery sometime shortly after Crepus' death, just to reduce his chest to a more comfortable size/shape now that he was more independent and was encouraged to make more of his own decisions. He considered doing more, but he also recognized that was a feature of himself many really liked to see, and thus still flaunts it with his infamous low necklines. He's even a little vain about his chest when it's actively pointed out. ( self-harm ment ) His surgery scars are double incision that somewhat resemble claw marks because he ended up actually carving them worse in a very panicked, Visceral negative reaction after he first saw them after he'd gone home post-op. Had a moment of further panic when he finally snapped back into himself and saw the mess, then deliberately cut more to adjust them into looking a little more 'aesthetically pleasing' to himself before cleaning up the scene. He didn't go to the Church for help patching up again or let Adelinde know what actually happened bc he feared getting yelled at over it. Got yelled at anyways by Adelinde, Elzer, Jean, Varka, and the church staff because he agitated the wounds badly when he tried to get back to work earlier than recommended. ( end ) The scars aren't as faded as they should to have been because he took too long to get them properly treated and a little from lack of proper care overall in spite of Adelinde's best efforts to help, though they have still since dulled decently enough with time. He tends to deflect hard when asked about them in general.

turn-ons/kinks:

Extra - Guaranteed, he loves displaying himself ( though not entirely unclothed ) for his partners during foreplay and make outs, or even deliberately getting himself off in a way where they're sure to catch him in the act–because he knows just how pretty people find him, scars and all ( though tends to like wearing his own/his partner's clothes over himself on more dysphoric days ). But when it comes to actual sex, if he's the one being penetrated, he strongly prefers being taken from behind & facing away from his partners, be it being pinned under them ( if that's what they prefer ) or in reverse cowgirl ( his most preferred position ), etc. Unless he is completely comfortable with his partner, in which case, he'll let them take him from the front/facing them. If he's got the chance to peg his partner, he likes it missionary the most, eager to watch their every reaction with great delight. Or with them facedown, face pushed against the mattress/surface they're on as he fucks into them. Especially if he's able to cage them in and croon things to them as he moves.

Has sadomasochistic tendencies. He definitely loves pain during sex, especially being on the receiving end of it–biting, scratching, spanking, knifeplay, name it, he'll allow it, so long as the marks aren't so easy to see like on his chest or neck. Is just as happy to indulge his partner if they're into it too, though always carefully measuring their limits. Is a HUGE fan of overstimulating his partners and especially using Visions during sex, but would actually LOATHE feeling any Pyro on him unless he Explicitly tells the person he trusts them & is given ample warning it will happen before they start. Any heat-based play in general is a hard no, unless he has that extreme trust in the person. Or is going through a particularly self-destructive spiral, but that is easy to spot once you know him well enough. Overall, sex that really ups his adrenaline levels in some way is the best in his eyes, especially since it help takes his mind of things and especially his usual touch aversion. Gentler sex tends to make him feel a lot more vulnerable, to the point where he's actually more likely to cry from being overwhelmed than he would if he were knocked around and hurt during sex ( esp considering he's entirely unused to it at ALL ). Has indulged in more extreme fear plays with past partners ( gun play, asphyxiation, kidnapping, interrogation-based consensual nonconsent, etc ), found certain delight in them too, but prefers anything like that to be properly negotiated some time beforehand, unless the person is okay with actually having to fight him a little before he realizes what they're doing & starts playing along. His safeword is Valberry, but also tends to follow equivalent of the stoplight colors system. He is okay indulging most any kink his partner wants at least once, esp bc he likes the idea of discovering a new one for himself.

Loves, loves, LOVES being degraded and being called names, though ones themed after royalty, 'young master', or using his Captain title are a surefire way to anger him. Either making him stop altogether ( particularly the former two ) or making him extremely ornery and spiteful that his partner's gotta get a firm hand on him to bring him back around if they want to continue. As long as the humiliation/insults given to him don't mention his body type/appearance in a negative way, he's a-ok for damn near anything else though, even being referred to as a girl ( actually finds it funny whenever he is and might even taunt them for it ). HOWEVER if he's being called cute/loving pet names during a rougher fuck, he flusters up and falls apart much faster. He does have very particular names he likes most, but those he leaves his partners to discover on their own. And yes, he does reward them each time one is stumbled on.

Usually neglects aftercare for himself outside of a relationship, sometimes during one. Will tend to his partners for theirs as much as they're willing then be right on his way. In a relationship, he goes above and beyond with aftercare for his partners, regardless of how rough the sex was on them or who topped/bottomed. Prepping baths, fetching them water or a quick bite, checking in with them, massages, administering first aid where needed, the works, no matter how sore he himself may be. He won't make any moves to ask for anything for himself from them, rather will simply partake in whatever he can share with his partner like snacks or bathing with them. Anything else, his partner would have to bring up or take initiative to treat him to.

sounds:

Extra - He doesn't tend to muffle up his voice during, especially if he wants to get caught by somebody ( most often like when he’s getting himself off while his partner’s nearby ). He's unabashed with his voice during sex, purring and crooning about how good it feels, how good they are being for him, pitching and trembling, all to look good for them. If he starts trying to stifle his voice behind a hand, chances are it's because he wants to hear his partner plead and encourage him to get louder, particularly because he knows there’s a chance he’ll get praise out of it if he does. That, and he gets off on hearing his partner beg or demand things of him. Or he's trying to rile them up so they can knock him around some, that too. Tends to babble breathlessly when he's close to his own climax, spilling near incoherent curses and pleas before a drawn out whine finally leaves him.

He doesn't tend to beg, but will get whiny and do so if his partner keeps teasing him or they hold back their own voice, even after he tries to encourage them. Will throw all dignity out the window if it means he can hear how good they feel, no matter how pathetic he's gotta make himself to have it. Loves hearing every crack and hitch of their voices, any growls and gasps that pass through their lips. Praises will drip from his own like honey each and every time his partner's voice gets louder or a particularly delightful sound leaves them. Notably, they could easily shock the brat out of him ( in a good way ) if they snarl right in his ear for him to behave, or near any other sort of dirty talk, especially the more possessive and domineering it is.

#hc; kaeya #long post for ts #//Long long LONG af lol #notsfw #//Not just bc discussions of sex and kinks; but bc Hoo boy; there's a Doozy of info here #dubcon mention tw #choking mention tw #self-harm mention tw #//If there's more I oughta tag; yell at me #//I'm tagging what I'm assuming would be the bigger triggers #//But ye #//Dude's one of the more chill of all the muses when it comes to sex; but it's bc that took a Bit & THEN some to build up that mindset #//Experience is one helluva teacher; and boy did he /hate/ some of the lessons he got #//Doesn't make him averse to it all though; he now 'knows better' he reasons; so no point dwelling on it #//Rlly could use a way to Process some of what he's been through; but he's 'cruisin' as is and doesn't actively intend to seek it

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crossguildcatgirl · 2 years

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the lightning that races across the sky,

the man of shadow, the mechanical eye

the sickly green glow of the mad doctor's mind

the raging fire, the moon that shines

the reaper that comes with his bat-winged scythe

the stars look upon you with love in their eyes

#isn't it weird what just fucking comes to me sometimes #i had no intention of writing this but then my brain thought about it and i was like damn that's pretty good actually #ok so in order:#electric angel (r)#(lax.us was briefly back on my f/o list last year so i'll go ahead and use his tag here)#prof.essor veno.mous and lo.rd box.man #shot goo the heart (r)#burning sun (r)#shining moon (r)#sun and moon (r)#soul of eternity (r)#shooting stars (r)#hoo boy thats a lotta tags #kittay.write #kittay.post

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the-authoress-writes · 9 months

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Dangerous Games

Tom “Iceman” Kazansky x Navy Nurse Wife!reader

Synopsis: The saying goes “Play stupid games, win stupid prizes”.

Well, Mrs. Thomas Kazansky is about to learn another version of this saying; “Play dangerous games, win dangerous prizes”.

But she doesn’t exactly mind.

Warnings: Mrs. Kazansky gets a little frisky in public, but nothing explicit, some cursing, and a little bit of steaminess, but again, nothing explicit.

Author’s Note: “I don’t write reader fic”, she said.

“I really don’t”, she said.

But here we are.

And I entirely blame both @valmare and Val himself.

I wrote this as a writing exercise, actually, because @valmare and I have slightly different approaches to Tom Kazansky; she has a more dominant take on him, while mine is more romantic and soppy, but no less passionate (I think).

I wrote this just to see if I could somehow combine both traits/takes in one story.

And… hoo, boy, I like to think I was successful.

That, combined with reading one of my grandmother’s ancient Silhouette Romance novels, I thought it was about time that the turns were tabled on the men.

Let’s be the ones to snap them like twigs, and not the other way around.

Without further ado, here we are!

“So what’s on the agenda today,” she asked her husband, as he sat at the kitchen counter eating his breakfast, while she stood on the other side, finishing her cup of yogurt, before she had to head to work for the shift she was called to fill in at the last minute yesterday.

“Well,” Tom began, after swallowing, “not much, just a meeting which apparently couldn’t wait until Monday, in the afternoon—other than that, nothing else really.

And uh, Mav and the guys are coming back home tonight; like I said last week, Sli and I were going to greet them, and they’re going out for drinks at the O Club later, but I can tell them I can’t go—”

“No, you go, enjoy yourself, I know it’s been a while since you last saw Mav and the flyboys,” she smiled.

In a rare occurrence, Mav and Tom’s deployments didn’t match up, leaving him and Slider on shore, while Mav and Merlin, Wood and Wolf were at sea.

She could hear the calls Tom would make in the evenings to the Vinson, to the various officers who owed him, already rather influential at the recently-received rank of Lieutenant Commander, for updates on Mav in particular.

She’d heard the stories both from the man himself, and from Tom, how the Mitchell name hung like an albatross around the diminutive pilot’s neck, how his basic medical needs were overlooked by dint of his “traitorous” surname.

As a nurse, especially a Navy nurse, it was beyond unconscionable.

She was glad that Mav had Tom as a friend, and it touched her to see the care he extended to his whole TOPGUN class.

“Such a Mother Goose,” Mav and Slider would say, both with sadness, but the former with a soul-deep sadness.

“Are you sure, milaya?” Tom’s voice brought her back to the present, as he came around the counter to step into her personal space, his hands on her waist, infusing her whole being with the warmth that only he could give her. “Because I’m really feeling bad that I have basically a whole day off, and you have to work.

We could have a movie night with some popcorn and ice cream, and you can talk about how people like me are the craziest sons of bitches around,” he grinned, referring to how they met a little over three years ago, after a little training mishap. “I’ll gladly keep your misery company.”

She smiled, resting her hand on the chiseled plane of his bare chest, as her index finger idly played with the chain of his dog tags, “No, like I said, even last week, you go and enjoy yourself with the boys.” Her smile took on a more devilish quirk, “Besides, you can make it up to me later.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, “Oh, I can, can I?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll manage,” she teasingly replied.

“Uh-huh,” he breathed, stepping impossibly closer, “and how exactly do you want me to make it up to you?”

“You’ll think of something.”

“How about a little down payment, then?”

He didn’t even bother waiting for her positive, always positive, response before one hand was buried in her hair, and his lips were on hers.

It was a kiss full of the easy confidence of a man who knew he was given what he took, and the passion and devotion of one who knew what a gift that was.

She could have gotten lost in her husband’s embrace and kiss for eternity, but the rude realization that she had a shift to prepare for, made her reluctantly, oh-so-reluctantly, push him away.

“As much as I’d really love to continue this, I can’t.

I have to go.”

He pouted like a child, the effect amusing to see on his already-full, kiss-swollen lips, and she gently carded her hand through his hair, soft and slightly curling without the gel, pushing it away from where it flopped onto his forehead. “I know most of this day didn’t pan out how we wanted it to, but we’ll make the best of it—we always do.”

“I know.

You’re sure it’s okay with you if I go out with the boys tonight?”

“Yes, Tom, how many times do I have to tell you?

Go have fun—but not too much fun,” she smiled.

He leaned forward, tucking his head into her neck, inhaling deeply, “You’re the only one I want to have fun with.”

“I would hope so, Thomas Vasilyevich,” she replied, lightly poking him in the side, “seeing as I’m your wife.”

“Oof,” he mock-winced, drawing back to look her in the eyes, “Russian naming me, huh?

Well, Mrs. Kazanskaya, two can play at that game,” he rejoined, leaning in to kiss her again.

However, she pushed him away, laughing, “You are a menace, Thomas Jacob Kazansky!

I have to go!”

“Worth a shot,” he laughed, letting her go.

She gathered her lunch into her bag, along with her paperwork, and shouldered the tote, before turning back to face Tom, who was leaning against the counter, long, sweatpants-clad legs crossed at the ankles, mirroring his arms, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Not going to kiss me goodbye?”

With a sigh, she asked, “If I kiss you goodbye, will you keep your hands to yourself?”

He clicked his tongue, “You drive a hard bargain, lyubimaya moya, but I’ll try.”

“Don’t try, just do,” she replied, amending one of Mav’s favorite sayings, stepping closer to peck him on the lips.

True to his word, he didn’t move an inch, but the regret on his face made her have to resist the temptation to kiss him and say to hell with her shift today. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay.”

And here, a sudden idea struck her. “Hey, wait a minute, you said that you guys were going to the O Club, right?”

“Yes,” he replied, drawing out the syllable. “Why?”

“Because I was thinking that if I can, maybe I can meet you guys there, join you flyboys.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “That’d be great!”

“You guys won’t mind?”

“I won’t mind,” he shook his head.

She good-naturedly rolled her eyes, “I know you won’t mind, what about the guys?”

“I’m sure the guys won’t mind, but they can take it up with me if they don’t like it.

Try to make it?”

“I will—hopefully, I’ll see you later.

And you’re sure you don’t need your other girl today?” she asked, double checking that he didn’t need his Chevelle, since her car was in the shop that week.

“No,” he shook his head, “Slider’s picking me up, you take her.

I love you, milaya.”

“I love you too.”

With that farewell, she dashed out the door, fleeing her own house like Lot, because she knew she’d never leave if she looked back at Tom.

Chaos.

That was what her shift at NMCSD was like.

Some unlucky or hapless person somewhere had probably said “It sure is quiet around here,” or some other variation of that phrase, and brought the wrath of the medical gods down upon them.

She’d had no less than ten emergencies to deal with, and at the end of her shift, she felt—no—knew—she deserved a drink.

A quick glance at her watch showed that it was just before 1800–from her experience, the carriers usually docked at 1500 or 1600, which meant they should all be at the O Club already.

Not wanting to give the charge nurse an opportunity to call her for something else, she practically ripped off her uniform, changing into the nicer spare clothes she kept in her locker just in case she had somewhere to be that wasn’t the grocery or straight home.

It was a worn, but well-fitting pair of jeans, sensible shoes, a tank top, and finally, a white buttondown with vertical blue stripes which she pilfered from Tom’s closet, that she never saw him wear.

After throwing on the shirt, leaving it unbuttoned, and tucking in her tank, she hastily walked (okay, ran) out of NMCSD, and headed to her parking spot.

God had mercy on her, as the traffic was light all the way to the O Club, the Almighty surely knowing that she’d reached her limits of bullshittery, that all she wanted after this day was a stiff drink, and her husband’s company, despite the fact that there would be others around, friends as they were to her.

It was a Saturday night, and the parking lot was full, but she managed to find a spot on the far end of the lot, a slight sheen of sweat breaking on her skin despite the AC, as she maneuvered in, not wanting to scratch her husband’s beloved car.

The flaring, insistent ache in her feet was testament to the long walk to the entrance, exposing just how many people had to be here, and true enough, once she pushed the doors open, the bar was hopping.

She moved through the crowded bar, searching for Merlin, Slider, or Tom—there’d be little hope of finding Wood or Wolf, and no hope of finding Mav, in this press of people.

She was heading through the crowd towards the bar when she smacked straight into someone.

An apology was on her lips, when the person turned, and she heard, “Hey, Mrs. Ice, how are you!”

And she looked up, up, up into the smiling face of Sam “Merlin” Wells.

“Hey, Merls, how are you, how was deployment?” she said, hugging the ludicrously tall RIO.

“Ehh, hot, as usual, but otherwise, uneventful; just running our CAPs, and buzzing the tower every now and then.”

She guffawed, “That’s Mav for you—I don’t know who’s crazier; Mav, or you, for willingly sitting in the same jet as him.”

Merlin leaned down, “Tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“Probably me, because I actually enjoy it,” he murmured.

She chuckled, “Oh, Samuel, never change.”

“Hey, what am I doing, let me get you to the guys’ table!

Come on!!”

He put his hand on her shoulder to make sure she didn’t get lost in the crowd, and led her to a table in the back. “Guys, look who I found!”

“Well, hey, if it isn’t my favorite Ice Queen!” Mav cried, leaping to his feet and pulling her into a hug.

“Hey, Mav, how are you?” she beamed, glad to see her husband’s best friend and wingman.

“Better, after seeing your pretty face,” the black-haired pilot grinned a grin which would probably make quite a few people here swoon, if its full force were turned on them.

She smacked his shoulder, though she was unable to stop her smile, “Stop it, you incorrigible flirt, you’re not my type, and even if you were, I’m very happily taken.”

“Ah, you wound me, my fair Ice Queen,” Mav dramatically clutched his chest.

“You’ll live,” she teasingly rolled her eyes.

“Mind getting your hands off my wife, so I can say hello to her, Mav?”

A glance behind Mav showed Tom standing there, a sight in his summer whites, an arch expression on his face, but those who knew him would be able to see the glowing humor in his eyes—but over all, the joy and love.

Mav moved aside, gesturing grandly at her. “All yours.”

“You bet your ass, Mitchell,” Tom nodded.

“Excuse me, I have a very nice ass, I have that on good authority,” the other pilot affrontedly stated as he walked backwards to his seat.

The voice of Charles “Chipper” Piper called, “Ugh, come on, Mav, no one wants to hear about your pasty ass.”

“You’re one to talk, Chip,” Marcus “Sundown” Williams chuckled.

Tom shook his head and stepped closer, making everything else fade into the background, his beautiful smile on his face. “You came.”

“I needed to,” she sighed, “I need a drink.

And the whole you being here is a nice bonus.”

He blushed slightly, ducking his head. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, come on, let’s get you that drink,” he replied, leading her to the table, around which sat Mav, Merlin, Slider, Wolf, Chipper, and Sundown.

“Hey guys,” she waved, taking the seat beside Tom.

They all greeted her as Tom called over one of the waitresses, ordering his usual vodka on the rocks along with her usual Old Fashioned.

When it arrived, she shocked them all by drinking more than half of it in one sitting, heavily setting the glass down on the table.

“That kind of day, huh, sweetheart?” Tom asked, his voice full of sympathy, warmth, and the slightest hint of laughter.

She turned a baleful look on him. “What do you think?”

He blinked, obviously weighing his words, the rest of the flyboys holding their breath. “I think maybe I should get you another one when you’re done with that.”

“God, I love you, Tom Kazansky,” she breathed.

The table collectively exhaled, as Tom grinned. “Aren’t I lucky?”

The night wore on, dinner eventually being ordered from the bar’s kitchen for everyone, and Merlin was the first to leave, saying that his wife was coming home late that night from taking care of a medical emergency with her mother, who lived on the other side of the States, and he wanted to be there to greet her.

The flyboys tossed peanuts teasingly at Merlin, Chipper and Mav whooping, Merlin flipping them the bird with both hands as he laughed, and said goodnight.

The remaining group continued on, and the vodkas Tom had drunk had loosened him up—he wasn’t drunk by any means, but his laughter was a bit louder, his eyes a bit brighter.

He was telling a story about one of the instructors from the TOPGUN session he’d been asked to help out with, since he wasn’t deployed this rotation.

It was a story she’d already heard, and so she allowed his words to fade slightly, just watching him as he spoke, fiddling with the straw of the second Old Fashioned Tom had ordered for her.

She smiled as he gestured animatedly, making the light glint off the gold ring on his left hand, which matched the one on hers.

Seeing it did funny things to her stomach, seeing the tangible proof that that man was hers.

Add to that the fact that Tom was in his summer whites… it was a cocktail more intoxicating than anything the bar behind her could ever offer.

She exhaled evenly, taking a sip of the water she’d switched to after her second Old Fashioned, admiring the figure he cut, an exemplar of US Naval excellence.

If you asked her later, she wouldn’t be able to tell you why she did it.

But the devilish thought of wanting to see if she could tilt him off-kilter entered her mind regardless, and she hid a smile behind the rim of her water glass.

She nonchalantly shifted her chair closer to Tom and innocently placed a hand above his knee, making him glance at her, and offer her a fleeting smile, while continuing the story.

Ever so carefully, she inched her way towards the inseam of his trousers, rubbing small circles as she went, which got her a minuscule narrowing of his eyes and a barely-there glance as he spoke.

She smiled back, stilling her hand, and he continued.

Once he had relaxed into his chair again, she began moving again, shifting her hand higher and higher, letting her fingernails catch repeatedly on the seam.

He cleared his throat and soldiered on, shifting in his seat, but the slightest tone of strain was beginning to creep into his voice now, and she mustered all the stoicism she’d learned from her husband to keep her face straight.

As her hand moved further up his inseam, she was treated to the sight of his jaw tensing, the sheen of sweat gathering at his temples, the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed thickly, the sound of the strain in his voice, and the hitch in his breath.

She knew that if she continued this, she was playing a very dangerous game, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at that moment.

So she inched further up, letting her fingernails dig into the seam, flicking it almost audibly, which elicited a cough from her husband.

Slider whacked Tom on the back, saying, “You okay, Ice?”

“Yeah,” he rasped, “just—just swallowed the wrong way.”

At this point, she was mere inches away from being so obscenely high on his thigh that the other flyboys would probably see, but just to see what Tom’s reaction would be, she made as though she were going to go there.

Smoothly, he placed his hand atop hers, somehow managing to conceal the fact that he had plucked her hand from basically his lap, bringing it up to his lips as he finished the story, his eyes stormy as he cut his gaze to her.

Maybe, she realized, as she looked into his tempestuous eyes, maybe she had made a very, very big mistake.

After another hour, they began to wrap up, hugging and slapping each other on the back, and for the first time since she’d met Tom Kazansky, she was not looking forward to being alone with him.

When the final farewells had been spoken, Tom wrapped an arm around her shoulder, walking them towards the distinct shape of his Chevelle, visible now that they were some of the last people at the bar.

“I can drive us, if you want,” she offered, testing the waters.

“No, I’ll be the one.

Keys.”

His tone was unreadable, and she fished the keys out of her pocket, handing them to him.

He led her to the passenger’s side, but just before she reached for the handle to open the shotgun door, she found herself pressed against the back passenger door, looking up into her husband’s face.

She refused to buckle at his impassive stare, looking evenly into his eyes; depthless blue, the color of the sea at twilight, in the dim illumination afforded by the streetlamps.

His hand shifted, and her breath hitched, but he only moved his hand past her, the familiar click of the Chevelle’s door release echoing in the thick San Diego night air.

Tom pulled the door further open, inclining his head and stepping back.

She swallowed, but moved to sit in the passenger’s seat, the sound of the shutting door feeling like some sort of passage of sentence.

Moments later, he opened the driver’s side door, sliding in and shutting it, however, he didn’t start the engine.

She held her breath, waiting to see what he would do next, but he only started the car, the purr of the Chevelle doing nothing to ease her tension, serving only to ratchet it up, the familiar streets leading home passing by.

The silence in the car was almost a living entity, made worse by the fact that Tom kept his eyes firmly fixed on the road before them, and she would be lying if she said that her heart wasn’t racing.

She was beginning to see the reasoning behind her husband’s callsign, between his nonchalant attitude and his unerring patience to wait her out, wait for her to slip.

Well.

She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

…

She hoped so, at any rate.

She’d always been weak for him, honestly, and she suspected she always would be.

Much too soon, they pulled into their driveway, and Tom cut the engine, leaving her in silence, literally and figuratively, as he stepped out without a word.

She briefly debated whether or not to stay in the car, but knew deep down that that was not an option, so she got out of the Chevelle, also making her way inside.

After locking up the doors and checking the rest of the house, she exhaled and looked warily up at the stairs. “‘Screw your courage to the sticking place,’ woman,” she murmured, striding determinedly up the stairs.

The lights were on in the bedroom, and she saw Tom at the dresser, keeping his submariner in its box, his face somehow still impassive.

She moved to the bed, picking up the pile of night clothes she’d laid out that morning, muttering, “I’m going to the bathroom,” and darted towards the en suite.

However, before she could make it there, a hand wrapped around her upper arm, and once again, she got the breath knocked out of her, finding her body pressed against the wall behind her by the solid mass of her husband before her, his hands on either side of her head.

“What was that about tonight, hmm, milaya?” he spoke lowly, making a shiver run down her spine.

“What was what?” she replied, affecting a light tone.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he replied, implacable.

“Oh, that,” she shrugged, caving slightly.

“Yes, that.

And just what were you thinking?”

“Ehhh—nothing much, really.” Well, she mentally admitted, that much was true.

“Uh-huh.

See, I think you were trying to get me to lose it,” he declared.

She somehow managed to muster up an innocent expression. “Uh, nope, not at all.”

“Sure.

So your hand at my inseam was just complete coincidence, was it?”

“Has to be.”

He stared her down just like he had in the O Club parking lot, attempting to keep his expression stoic, but this close, she could see his eyes—how there was only a thin ring of midnight gray, his pupils blown wide from the desire he was trying to keep down.

She inhaled sharply, her lips parting, and his gaze immediately locked onto the sight.

When he spoke next, his voice was low and trembling. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I think I have some kind of idea,” she breathlessly murmured.

“Fuck—” he whispered brokenly before kissing her like he was at 38,000 feet and she was the oxygen he needed to breathe.

Caught in his riptide, she was helpless but to hold onto him.

Air surged back into her lungs as his kisses moved down to her neck, only to be stolen from them moments later, a cry halfway between pain and pleasure carried on her breath, when his ardor seared into the delicate skin there.

“That hand of yours—and you wearing my shirt—you drive me crazy,” he spoke into the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“I think you like it, though,” she whimpered, hitching her legs around his unfairly narrow waist, as he adjusted his arms to hold her up.

“Damn it, I fucking do,” he groaned, moving them towards the bed.

They had just collapsed onto the comforter, kissing like teenagers, when he broke away to breathe, “You’re still going to pay for what you did, though, you’re not getting out of that.”

“Oh, am I, because it seems to me like your mouth is writing checks your body can’t cash… Commander,” she cocked her eyebrow.

His jaw dropped slightly, followed by a shaky inhalation. “…I shouldn’t have told you about my rank thing.”

Her smirk was halfway to a grin by now. “What are you going to do about it?”

He tilted his head. “You’re asking for it, at this point.”

“Well, then, do what you’re going to do, flyboy; that’s an order.”

A wicked smirk quirked the corner of his lips, full of promise. “Yes, Ma’am.”

NMCSD: Naval Medical Center San Diego

The USS Carl Vinson is a Nimitz-class aircraft carrier commissioned in 1982, and she is still on active duty.

I stole @valmare’s headcanon that Tom drives a Chevelle, because if it’s good enough for Mir, it’s good enough for me!

I’m so sorry Mir!

According to a production photo, Tom’s full name is Thomas Jacob Kazansky, but since I headcanon him as Russian, his patronymic is missing.

So thusly, you have Thomas Jacob Vasilyevich Kazansky.

When Mrs. Kazansky refers to Tom as Thomas Vasilyevich, that is considered a casual, informal, yet somehow in its own way, formal, method of referring to someone.

There’s cultural rules about that.

Tom calls Mrs. Kazansky “Mrs. Kazanskaya”, which follows the Russian and Slavic convention of gendered surnames.

CAPs: Combat Air Patrols

Summer whites are the white version of the khaki uniforms, and you can see them in The O Club bar scene in Top Gun ‘86.

“Screw your courage to the sticking place” is a quote from Shakespeare’s “Macbeth”.

Did I basically steal a line from Top Gun, and completely change the context of it?

Yes.

Yes, I did.

Mrs. Kazansky calls Tom simply “Commander” instead of Lieutenant Commander, because of the convention regarding “double-barreled” ranks.

Russian Glossary

Disclaimer: endearments and translations taken from Google—please don’t hesitate to correct me if I’m wrong, which, odds are, I am.

Milaya: dear, darling (there are other translations of this word, however)

Lyubimaya moya: my darling/my one and only sweetheart

Taglist

@valmare

If you’d like to join my taglist, just send me an ask!

#not me 👀 at men literally old enough to be my father #officially in my val kilmer era #top gun #top gun fanfiction #top gun fanfic #top gun fic #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky #tom kazansky #val kilmer

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spidercookie18 · 6 months

Text

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑪𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒆

The Lost Boys 1987 AU set in modern time. None of the boys died, and all the Emersons/Star/Laddie/Frog brothers are vampires. This is explained later…

Tags: General violence, halfing vampire, swearing, choking, mentions of suicide/death/kidnapping/dangerous acts, unprotected sex, breeding, scenting, degradation/praise, use of y/n, afab, use of she/her. MINORS DNI Word Count: 8.6k Previous chapter here: Next chapter here:

“No one should suffer what I suffered. I still dread those scenes when man killed man. I lost my parents, most of my family, by running away.” — Milkha Singh

Chapter Two:

It had been over a week since David last saw you. He went by your house most nights and saw that your lights were off, and your truck was gone. He noticed that wherever he tried to mark as ‘his’, was gone the next night. Your scent had the same potency each time he went back, so he knew you were there during the day, which he was fairly sure you knew he wouldn’t be by to bother you then.

Where the fuck did she go. David's thoughts kept returning to the memory of you and how he longed to feel you against his flesh once more.

He was irritable again, and the other boys noticed. He had been avoiding Max as he was sure he’d be able to smell you on his clothes, and he didn’t want to get yelled at – if that was all Max would do, David thought. He groaned with frustration as he put on his boots.

“Come on man, are you fucking going back there again?” Paul yelled at David as he was walking up towards the mouth of the cave.

“Shut up Paul,” David grumbled, not turning.

“Dude you’ve gone like every night this week,” Paul responded.

“Yeah man, it’s not like she’s going anywhere, all her stuff is there, right?” Marko said, turning the bag of chips upside down into his mouth. “So why don’t we go out,” Marko tried to appeal to David, his mouth full of chips.

“This really isn’t healthy behavior, David,” Dwayne said, casually throwing some candy into his mouth.

David grumbled; he was annoyed but knew they were right. He felt a pang in the pit of his stomach, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he was on edge all the time. He sighed, “fine,” he turned back to the boys, “I got to get out of my head,” David said, grabbing the keys to his bike. “Let’s go crack some skulls,” he smiled a dark smile and the boys rallied behind him. They grabbed their jackets and headed to the bikes.

“Hell, yeah man!”

“Woo-hoo”

“Let’s go kick some teeth in!”

The boys yelled as they followed David up out of the mouth of the cave towards the bikes. They sped down the hill and towards the city, hollering the whole way.

They rode into town and up the boardwalk to a spot they knew would cause a commotion. They wanted to roll heads tonight, and where better to do that than where you’re ever so despised.

They parked outside a new ice cream shop that had been open a few weeks and there was still a line of people waiting to get in. They skidded to a stop loudly and revved their engines to turn all the heads.

The boys loved attention and smiled and chuckled at the contorted and angry faces that stared back at them. David looked over at his brothers and asked who they thought would be able to put up a good fight, they all laughed.

“So, y’all just constantly go around terrorizing people is that it?” A voice cleared itself behind David; he turned and saw you.

He had been looking for you all week and suddenly, the second he stopped trying, you appear.

The boys all turned to look at you, “can we help you?” Marko spat, clearly still pissy from the bar.

You looked over at him and rolled your eyes, then looked back at David, “I need you to move your bikes for the night.”

David shook his head in disbelief at how haughty you were being right now. “You want to run that by me again?”

A few minutes before, you had finally got to the front of the line for the new ice cream shop that you had been dying to try since you first stepped on the boardwalk. You’d been much too busy with work this week and finally had a second to yourself to go get a little treat.

It had taken much longer than you had initially thought to get your sweets, and it was now dark out. You finally reached the front of the counter and tried to order some of your favorite ice cream.

“I’m so sorry, but we’re out,” the boy behind the counter told you.

Just my luck...You sighed, “fine, can I get…”, you scanned the menu for something that wasn’t marked ‘unavailable’. “Can I just get a churro with caramel?”

The young man behind the counter apologized again for the inconvenience and turned to tell your order to his coworker. “I haven’t seen you in here before,” the young man tried to make small talk while your food cooked.

“Yeah, I’m new in town. I’ve been wanting to come here all week.” You watched him stare at your breasts from under the brim of his uniform hat and you handed him the money from your bag.

As you waited, you heard the roar of motorcycles coming up the boardwalk and turned to see David and the boys park opposite of the shop. They immediately begin provoking the customers standing outside, and you chuckled. Those idiots.

The cashier groaned and turned to his buddy, “they’re back again.”

“God damn it,” the other teen responded. “Well, I’m not going out there again, you tell them to move.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not going out there,” the cashier quickly responds. He takes the churro and places it in a white paper bag and starts to hand it to you.

“I bet I can get em to move,” you say pointedly. The teens look at you with wide eyes.

“Yeah, fat chance,” the one furthest laughs out.

“No, I’m serious, I bet I could.”

They turn to look at each other, “...okay,” the cashier begins to haggle with you, “what do you bet?”

You think for a second, “tell you what, Charlie,” you nod at his name tag, “I bet, that I can get them to move for the night...for an extra churro.” The cashier smiles, “and all the money in the register,” you finish saying. The one making the food scoffs, “and if I can’t, then...” you stare at the cashier and wink at him, “I’ll let you take me on a date.”

The cashier makes a face like he’s thinking. He’s weighing the options of the ridiculous bet; no chance you get them to move, he can’t lose. He smiles down at you, “I’ll throw in the churro, and you got yourself a deal.”

You take the small crinkly bag from him and walk out the door, they’re both watching as you walk up to the ‘biker gang’.

“If you move, I’ll make it worth your while,” you raise an eyebrow at David.

He looks you up and down, “what do I get out of this,” he sneers at you. He wants to be upset at your demeanor, but you look adorable in the green off the shoulder dress you’re wearing.

“First,” you waggle the food in front of him, “this churro, but you have to snatch it from me… Second, is the cashier looking?” You turn to point with the churro at the shop.

David leans on his bike to see around you, “yeah?”

“Okay, well I made a bet with him that I could get y’all to move for a prize, and if I lose then I have to go on a date with him.”

David scrunched up his face in a frown at the sound of your words, you could hear him growling lightly.

“And I really don’t want to do that, so…” you trailed off.

“Well, what’s the second part?” Paul chimed in.

“It’s a surprise,” you smiled sweetly at the boys. David stared at you with a blank face, unamused by your little ‘bet’.

“Please,” you asked, with honey dripping from your words, “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

He looked back at the boys, who also seemed bored by the idea. But he really didn’t want you going off with some human, on a date.

“Fine,” he stated, and the boys started to protest at the idea. “Enough,” David’s response was quick and scathing. He looked back at you, “if you even think of weaseling out of this…” he narrowed his eyes.

“It’s not like you don’t know where I live,” you remind him; that’s exactly the point he was trying to make. “I’ll meet you on the far end of the boardwalk in fifteen mi-”.

David cut you off, “you’ve got ten.”

You smiled at him, “deal,” you took a step back and the boys started up their engines; David easily snatched the snack from you. They rode two circles around you, David was eyeing you the whole time- the image of sharks in the water crossed your mind. Then they took a turn down the stairs of the boardwalk, swung around on the sand and headed off in the direction you agreed upon. You could hear them hollering as they rode off on the beach, you walked back into the ice cream shop and sauntered up to the counter.

With slack jaws, the teens watched as you nodded towards the register.

“What… what did you say to them?” The cashier asked.

“Oh, I just told them if they didn’t move, you’d come outside and kick their asses.”

The one further away walked up to his friend, who stood frozen behind the cash register. “My dad is going to kill me,” the cashier whispered, unmoving.

He looked over at his friend who’d elbowed him, “come on man, fair is fair.”

“Tell you what, how about I take you out tomorrow?” You smiled up at the cashier and his nerves seemed to have been soothed. As he looked at you, his eyes became glossed over, his expression became blank, and he slowly, and unwillingly opened the register and emptied the drawer into a plastic bag. The one that was prepping food handed you another churro in a small crinkly bag. “Pleasure boys,” you took both and walked out of the shop.

It took less than the ten minutes you’d thought it would to walk over to where the boys were. “You’re almost late,” David yelled at you.

“No, I’m not,” you smiled and tossed the heavy plastic bag at him.

He reacted fast and the bag hit his gloved hands with a THUNK, he looked inside at all the money you’d just given him. “What’s this?” The boys were by his side curiously looking in the bag as well.

“It’s the other part of your gift,” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Dude that’s gotta be like six hundred bucks!” Paul shouted and happily shook David by the shoulders. The boys are happily bouncing on the balls of their feet and David, who was still sitting on his bike looks up at you.

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, “yeaaah, sorry. I thought they’d have more cause they’re so busy; but I guess most people don’t pay with cash anymore huh?”

David was more than pleased with how the bet played out, he flashed you a toothy grin, “not bad, Y/N.”

“Oh, but there is one more thing,” you said as David handed the money to Dwayne to stuff in his saddlebag. “The cashier, Charlie, he’s still expecting a date,” David gritted his teeth, “so can you, like, do whatever it is you do to make people go away?”

The boys snicker, “what makes you think we just make people ‘go away?’” Marko laughs.

You shrugged, “well, they seemed scared nuff’ of you, so I figured you could fix my little problem.”

David laughed and gestured for the boys to head back to their bikes, “sure, we can do that.” David nodded to Marko who led the boys off on the bikes, presumably to fulfill your request. It was just you and David standing on the boardwalk now as you watched the boys ride off and out of sight.

“While I’m not upset with the money,” David turned back to look at you, “I was picturing something a little…different when you said you’d ‘make it worth my while’.”

You giggled, “you don’t think you can charm my pants off the old-fashioned way?”

David laughed heartily, “hop on, I want to take you somewhere,” he grinned sweetly. You moved over to the bike and threw a leg over and tucked the hem of your dress under your thigh so it wouldn’t fly up as you rode. You wrapped your arms against David’s waist, you felt so warm against him, he throttled the handle, and you felt the vibrations against your core.

“I like to go fast,” he turned back to you, “so, don’t let go.” You squeezed tighter, and he took off. You were flying down the road; he wasn’t kidding when he said he went fast, you thought.

You leaned into David’s ear, “if you’re gonna kill me, can you at least make it quick?”

You can feel him give a deep laugh over the sound of the bike and the wind, “I’ll try to remember that.”

You rode by a lighthouse on your right, and you could see the light turning as the two of you sped past it. You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but the air felt electric; you were too nervous to speak up, so you just held onto him. The ride itself wasn’t very long, maybe five, ten minutes, but the way David was driving made it feel frighteningly long. He zigged and zagged through traffic, and you thought he’d kill you both more than a few times. Every time you asked him to slow down, he’d speed up; so, you just stopped asking.

“Don’t ya trust me Y/N?” He’d yell over his shoulder.

“No!” You’d shout, and the way you were pressed up against his back you would feel him laughing.

There was one point where he was trying to pass someone on the two-lane road where you were sure you were going to bite the big one. He was tail-gating damn near every car he’d passed but this one wasn’t going to let it go; when he moved into the next lane, the car sped up.

You saw from over his shoulder there was another car coming from the lane you were in, “David,” you tried to get him to move back over, “David there’s a car coming.” He didn’t care, he wanted to feel your heartbeat against him, he wanted to smell the fear coming off you. “David, the car!” It was almost too close a call; at the last second, he gunned it in front of the driver that wouldn’t let him pass and ran them off the road. You turned to watch the car slide off into a ditch, and you could feel David laughing again. “Holy crap,” you clutched to him; “David I want to get off,” you hid your face in his jacket.

“We’re almost there,” he grumbled.

“No! I want to get off now!” You dug your nails into his side.

“Fuck!” He grunted and kept driving.

“David!”

He kept going; you dug in harder, and you could hear him wince with pain. “Calm down already!” He shouted at you, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you!”

“Please,” you were whimpering into his shoulder; to be fair, he was probably a much better rider than you were giving him credit for, but for Christ’s sake it wasn’t fun anymore. It wasn’t much longer till he pulled off the main road and turned towards the shoreline. You were riding up hill and he stopped the bike when you were at the top.

“Happy?” He kicked out the stand and turned back to look at you.

Your face was still pressed against his back in terror. “Take me home David.”

He sighed at your response, “if I take ya home now, I’m just gonna drive the same way.”

“Then I’ll walk,” you grumbled.

“Will you fucking look up already? It wasn’t even that bad.” He stepped off the bike and watched you hide your face in your hands. He almost felt bad at how scared you were, almost. He rolled his eyes at you, David had enough of your behavior. He leaned down to brush your hair behind your ear, “come on Y/N.” You sheepishly pulled your hands away from your face.

The view before you was gorgeous; the moon was so full and so perfectly placed above the cliff you stood on. The lights from the city were all but gone, and you could see every star in the sky. The waves crashed on the rocks below you and you couldn’t hear anything but the sound of the scenery.

You stood from the bike in awe, “wow,” you held your breath.

“Told ya,” David crossed his arms smugly.

You took in the scenery a little bit longer, staring up at the stars; without looking at David you started to tell him off, “if you drive like that again without letting me know,” you looked over at him with wide eyes, “I’ll fucking kill you.”

He laughed again from the pit of his stomach, “alright, alright, I’ll let ya know next time.”

He walked over to you and placed his hand behind your neck. Before you could react, he pulled your face to his and kissed you deeply. He tasted like cigarette ash and the cinnamon sugar from earlier. You tried to pull away from him, but he held you tightly; his other hand came up to your cheek, and he pushed his tongue into your mouth. “Mrmph”, you struggled against him. “David,” you whimpered, he smiled against your lips. You felt your body start to get hot, you were still so angry with him, but he was so strong. You wanted to trust he wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew exactly what he was. His hand behind your neck traveled up to the back of your hair and pulled down hard, “aah!” He smiled against your neck, your whimpers and moans sounded so sweet to him; you felt him kissing and sucking marks on your skin, his grip turning into his nails in your skin. You were mewling at his touch, “David,” you breathed out. He loved the way his name sounded off your lips. So sweet, so full of want, for him. You felt his teeth scratching against your skin as he continued to suck marks into your flesh.

“Not so hard,” you whimpered, and felt his fangs grow, you could hear him growling under his breath, you could see his eyes glow under his lashes. He started biting lightly, then harder. “Not so hard David.” You knew what was coming next, you felt his sharp teeth getting ready to rip into you; you reached down into your bag and searched as quickly as you could. By the narrowest margins, David’s fangs had pierced your skin, when he was stopped by a cold piece of metal against his temple.

He heard the gun cock. “I said, not so fucking hard, David,” you panted out the words, and he pulled slowly away from you.

Without turning his head, he eyed the gun, then looked back at you. He raised his hands up by his head and stared at the gun nervously. “Take it easy there,” he watched you intently, as he blinked, his glowing amber eyes turned back to their normal blue. “If this is about the drive over, then I’m sorry, alright?”

You stared directly into his eyes, “no, I think you know what this is about.”

His eyes narrowed, “you know.” It was more a statement than a question.

“Uh-huh,” you nodded.

“How long?”

“Pretty much immediately,” you said pointedly. “You guy’s made it really easy.” He scrunched his face up, “you all were sniffing me like…animals.” David rolled his eyes, keeping his hands above his head, “also, you’re going to STOP pissing on my fucking lawn.”

He stepped forward to defend himself, “Alright I can explain th-”,

“Ah-ah,” you waggled the barrel of the gun in his face; he stepped back in place.

“You know they’re gonna kill that guy, Charlie, right?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Why do you think I asked y’all to get rid of him for me?”

He laughed weakly, “so…you gonna kill me?”

You scoff at his words, “this was never about that,” David raised an eyebrow in curiosity, “I just wanted you to stop biting me.”

He exhaled in relief and put his hands down. “Fuck me, you had me there for a second,” he placed his gloved hand on his stomach and laughed gratefully that he wasn’t going to be shot in the face.

“David,” you kept the gun pointed at him, “you can’t have my blood unless I say so, got it?” He stared at the gun and tried to keep from growling. “And,” you continued, “I don’t want your blood… Give me your word.”

He groaned at your demands.

“David I’m serious.”

“Fine, fuck!” He growled out, “you have my word.”

You turned the gun from him and decocked it. In an instant, he’s on you; your back is pressed hard against the ground. Your teeth clang as your head hit the dirt below, and your ears rang loudly. You strained to focus on the vampire before you, your double vision cleared to reveal David and his glowing amber eyes. His features start contorting in anger, “what makes you think I won’t just kill you now?” His hands around your throat, squeezing hard, and you can hear the blood pounding in your ears.

You reached for the pendant around your neck and held the vial up for him to see, “do it.”

He held it in one hand and sniffed it. “What is this?” His voice dark and distorted.

You cough, “do you think I knew what you were off of a hunch?” He squeezed harder, the pressure behind your eyes making you nauseous, “you’d be doing me a favor,” you choke out, tears running down the side of your cheeks.

He turned the vial in his hand and saw a bubble move across the surface. He released his hold from your throat and stood quickly to his feet. “Whose blood is that!”

You cough and rub your throat, “my sire.” He feels his stomach churn at your words. You sat up on your elbows, “he killed my family, everything I ever loved was destroyed by his hate,” you yell at David. “He wanted to turn me, and I told him I would kill us both…”, you stared off over the cliff and let the tears come to your eyes. Your voice cracking as you spoke, “I told him if he spared my life that I would never run from him, never fight him… I would just be…his.” David was in disbelief; his body was in anguish at the words that came from your mouth, like poison in his veins. “I ran away from him thirty-five years ago,” you tucked the vial back into your dress. “I’ve been running ever since,” you stared up at him, and wiped the tears from your cheeks.

David was livid, you were his. He didn’t care who had claims on you, you were his now. He knelt down to snatch the vial from you.

“If you do that I’ll die.”

He growled and let the vial fall to your chest. “Then take my blood.”

“David! I just told you I don’t want it!”

He gripped your jaw harshly and snarled in your face.

“I am not tethering myself to another vampire,” you shouted back at him, “not after all I’ve survived!”

He bared his teeth against your neck and pulled away resentfully to keep himself from biting down, “you are more than flesh and blood can bear!”

David sat on your waist, angrily. He claimed you as his before he met you, the second he smelled your scent, he claimed you. You stared at him, defiantly. His nostrils flared as he stared down at you from his position. “You’re smelling him, that’s why you’re drawn to me.” David placed his head in his hands, he felt he was running out of ways to rationalize keeping you. “It’s instincts! Alphas seek out other alpha’s mates, it’s part of why war is waged for territories… we’re the only ones that can bear the weight of your love.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “just… stop talking for a second.”

You sighed, crossed your arms in frustration, and laid back down on the ground.

So, this is what Max was going on about.

David had known for some time that there were vampire lords all throughout the world. They were sires to many, and masters of their vast territories. They were, ‘for all intents and purposes, kings,’ Max had explained to him once. And that it was best to avoid them at all costs. “Fuuuuuuuuuck!” David shouted into the night.

Why couldn’t he have just said that.

Should he kill you? Was it easier to just remove you from his life? No, like you said, it was instincts, he wouldn’t be able to do it. Could he get one of the other boys to do it? No, he felt sick just thinking about your death. David stared down at you; your attention was off over the cliff somewhere. Were you thinking of running away from him too? No, you ran away from…, “what’s his name?”

“Montgomery,” you didn’t look over at David, you stayed pretending you were somewhere else.

She ran away from, him because he was a bad pack leader.

Whatever he had done to you to make you break a vow and stay on the run for all these decades was something that David would never drive you to.

I’ll never make her run away; he thought as he looked softly down at you.

“What David,” you looked up at him finally, still fuming.

Whatever you had said and done to keep your old alpha from turning you must have been enough that he thought it was easier to bewitch you into being a halfling. David knew he wouldn’t be able to turn you and keep you from murder suicide, not forever. He knew his persuasion didn’t work on you, so he couldn’t force you to be docile, especially not if he turned you. There was only one way to keep you from leaving.

David raged against the thought, he bellowed and screamed in his mind. His nails gripped into his palms with all his force, if the gloves weren’t on his hands, he would have surely bled on you. Civility was not something David actively practiced; nor was he used to not just taking the things he wanted, things he claimed as his. He took a deep breath in, sighed, and reluctantly got off you. He threw himself on the ground beside you and looked up at the sky, still raging in his mind.

“I don’t want you to run away…” you looked over at him as he spoke softly, “I won’t drive you to that.” He said, it was almost a whisper. He sighed, loudly. He threw his hands up to his face, and pulled down on his skin, with a groan.

“Thank you…” you uncrossed your arms and smiled at him.

You could hear him growling, and the creak in his gloves as he continued to clench his fists. “This feels AWFUL,” he protested.

You laughed, “I’m sure it does,” you placed a hand gently on his arm. “You’re not really supposed to go against your instincts.”

David looked over at you, a look of annoyance on his face, “I could still kill you; you know.”

You rolled your eyes at him; you knew he didn’t mean it, but were sure he didn’t know how to process these new feelings without lashing out at you. As you watched him, you noticed his coats had lain open when he threw himself on his back. The edges of leather and wool falling off from his abdomen and onto the grass by his sides. Breathing in, you could finally smell him.

Leather, oil, cigarettes, salt…David.

His scent filled your nostrils and swirled around in your lungs. You could feel your chest heave as you panted, breathing in more of him. It was the first time you noticed his scent. Not even when you were wrapped around him on the bike could you smell it. The coats did a very good job of masking him, and as his air filled you, you instinctively began to squirm. Your body becoming hot, the flush in your cheeks; your heartbeat quickened. You could hear little over your own panting, but David could hear you quite well. He cocked his head as you tried to stifle a whimper.

“I can help you though,” you kicked off your shoes. You needed something to quell the fire in your loins. You slid on top of David and sat atop his hips. You leaned down to kiss him, you felt you could trust him; but more importantly, all the screaming and yelling and raging fell utterly unimportant in comparison to the instinct that demanded you roll your hips against his.

If he was willing to give you his word, he wouldn’t feed on you or try to turn you; and he wouldn’t hide you away from the world like some stolen prize, maybe he wasn’t the vampire you thought he was.

You put your hands to the sides of his face and kissed him deeply, he sat up with you still on him. You moaned into his mouth, and let your hands wander down to slip off his jacket.

“No,” he whispered into your skin, he stopped you from taking them off.

He shrugged you off his shoulders and slid his hands under your dress to pull it off you. You stayed kissing him while your hands unbuckled his belt, and feverishly unbuttoned his jeans. He put a hand to the back of your head and pulled you closer to slip his tongue in your mouth. “Mmhm,” you whined and grinded your hips down on his stiffening cock. He was kneading your breasts and moved his hands around your back to unclasp your bra. “David,” you whimpered, and he smiled against your skin. You loved the way he sounded when he chuckled, so deep, and dark; he excited you so. David kissed and licked your nipples, “ahh.” He was enjoying the feeling of your soft, plush breasts in his hands. He loved hearing you melt for him.

David pushed you down on your back- you always forgot how strong vampires were- and you giggled as he nibbled down your neck. He pulled away from you and took off your panties; his gloved fingers hooked under the thin fabric, and he kissed down your legs as they came off. He put them to his nose and took a long inhale, and you felt a blush come to your face at the sight. You saw his pointed ears twitch with excitement and his eyes flashed bright blue to a deep orange. David stuffed them in his pant pocket, “you’re not getting these back.” His voice was deep and slightly distorted again. You giggled and he shoved his jeans down enough to free his cock.

David was big, enough to make you clench around nothing at the sight of it. Not overly long, maybe six, six and a half inches, but he was impossibly thick. He had plum, prominent veins running along the underside and one on the top, his fat tip already leaking precum. You gulp, and he laughs at your reaction. “You might be too big for me, David…” you make a worried look, and he runs a gloved finger up your slit.

You mewl under his touch, and he chuckles, “you’ll take me just fine, darlin.”

He circles his finger around your clit as you begin to whine for him, “aah, fuck.”

You bite your lip and look up at him, he brings the finger to his mouth and licks your love off it. “Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he moans, and grips your hips tightly to pull you to him, you yelp as he drags you. He pushes his pants down further around his thighs and you chuckle nervously as his ample balls sway lightly. He He’s smiling down at you, licking his lips; he lines up with your cunt and presses into your heat.

You cry out as he stretches you to what feels like past your limit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, David,” you push your hand against his hips to keep him from driving more of himself in, and he ignores your pleas. With force, he slams his hips against your ass, and you move to grip his forearms. Your nails are digging into his coats, and he growls as he pushes into you to the hilt. David gives you no mercy, and you can feel the wind be knocked out of you in shock. His cock is pulsing as he nestles against your cervix, you’re whimpering, and he tries to remind himself you’re still part human. David huffs as he tries to regain himself, his fingers digging into your hips. You wrap your legs against his waist to try and keep him from moving. “Wait,” you gasp out and you can hear him suck air in through his teeth. You try to adjust to his size, but he hooks his hands under your knees and pushes your legs forward. Your hips are off the ground, and he starts pistoning into you.

“Fuck!” He growls.

You’re so full, the weight of his cock feels like it’s going to tear straight through your cunt. “David!” You dig your nails into his forearms and keep moaning your screams; you can see his fangs growing in his open mouth.

He leans down, and you’re folded in half, “you’re so fucking noisy,” his words accentuated by each thrust. He covers your mouth with his gloved hand and your eyes roll back into your head. He feels so good, he’s so, so big, and he keeps hitting against your cervix. You cry out, and he’s laughing, “ohhh, sweet thing, does that feel good?”

You nod under him, his hands still covering your mouth, “mmhm.”

“How about this, darlin?” He releases his hold on your face and moves his hands to your hips. He lifts them off the ground, changes the angle of his thrust, and his tip is rubbing against your sweet spot.

You moan and scream and writhe into the night.

With his hand off your mouth, your tongue lolls out; David laughs, “you look like a dumb, fucked out toy, you know that?” His pace is punishing, it sounds like a sledgehammer breaking against your pelvis, and you try to focus on breathing as your orgasm quickly approaches. He looks down at you and his eyes narrow at the sight of the vial around your neck. He batts it away so he doesn’t have to look at it as he claims you. You breathe out a chuckle between gasps, and he can feel you squeezing against him, “are you gonna cum already sweetness?”

“Please sir,” you moan out, “please can I come?” He groans and thrusts his cock in harder, “fuck, David!”

He can’t get enough of your noises; you sound so cute getting fucked out on his cock. “Come for me sweet thing,” he rubs his thumb over your clit, and you spasm around his cock.

You’re moaning and gasping for air in between sweet ‘thank you’s’. The image of you crying and trembling under him is being burned into David’s mind. He holds your thighs close against his body and shoves his cock in as deep as he can reach and paints your insides white. You can feel his pulse hammering inside you as he comes. It’s so much, you can feel it dripping out of you and down your ass. David’s throbbing cock feels so good pumping you full of cum. He doesn’t stop pistoning into you, he just turns you on your side and fucks his cum back into your wet cunt. You’re clawing at his arms now, “fuck, David, wait!” He ignores your pleas; he can only hear the sound of your pounding heart, and the squelching of your soft warm pussy around him.

He’s growling, moaning something like, “so fucking good. So fucking tight f’me. So soft, n’ wet, n’ warm, f’me. My sweet thing.”

You can feel him slipping away from you as he mumbles into your flesh, he’s going feral fucking into you. “David,” you call out to him, and he looks down, his features completely foreign to what he looked like a short while ago. He grunted as he pushed your leg over your head. “Fuck! David calm down!” He fucked you hard, as hard as he could manage. Your breathing was staggered from the weight of him pressing over your ribs. The sound of his hips cracking into your pelvis was painfully loud. You were glad no one was around to hear, the plap and wet noises was sinful, and you moaned like a whore for David. The feeling of your gummy walls sucking him in was the best thing he’d felt in so damn long. He let his cock bully into you and drag slowly out. His fingers pushing into the plush of your thigh, the sound of your wet pussy getting fucked raw inviting him to keep going. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, and focused on how good you felt around him.

“So…soft,” was all he could manage as he grunted and came again in you. His voice completely distorted now. He let his open mouth settle on your calf, sucking lightly as he came. You could feel his teeth, not enough to break the skin, but enough you were sure it would leave a mark.

Your arms were up by your head to cover your face; you panted, and wheezed, and gasped, hard, trying to get air into your lungs as David kept railing into you, “please David.” You begged, tears coming down your cheeks. The pleasure was too much, you couldn’t stop cumming around him. You thought you were gonna pass out as he ripped another orgasm from you, you needed air.

He grabbed your arms and pulled you up towards him, “don’t look away from me.” He had his arms wrapped around your upper half and was fucking up into you now; you were sobbing. Your body went limp against his and you let your face hide in the crook of his neck.

“Too much… David” you cried out. His hefty cock kept pistoning up into you. It was too thick, too heavy, too much, you could feel him ruining you; and you felt your cunt spasming around him again.

He nuzzled his nose against your cheek, he loved how needy and pliant you were for him. He couldn’t get enough of you, your pretty little pussy, your cute noises, your scent. David groaned and bit into your shoulder, he lapped at the dark purple teeth marks on your skin. He focused on his hips slamming up into you, your legs weakly draped around his hips; the warmth of your body seeping into him. He snaked a hand up to your jaw and lifted your chin to look at him. He loved how you looked, glossed over eyes, flush cheeks, baby hairs stuck to your forehead with sweat, mouth agape with soft whines escaping with each thrust. He bit his lip and kissed you. He swirled his tongue around yours, and you whined into his mouth. Poor David couldn’t stop himself, his mind screamed that he needed his scent to envelop you. He came again and your head fell weakly against his shoulder.

You felt David reposition you, he turned you over to all fours. He grabbed your hips and pulled you back towards him. His hips pressed hard against your ass as he shoved himself back inside you. You let your hands grip at the ground beneath you, you tried not to clamp down on David’s cock, but he stretched you so goddamned good. “I’m gonna come again!” You half begged, half thanked him, the way his girth dragged in and out of you was divine. You felt your legs buckle under you and David held your hips up to keep you from falling over.

“Come!” He demanded, he let one of his hands wrap around your body and rubbed your nub.

“Fuck!” The high-pitched whines that came from your throat a clear indication of how hard you were coming undone for him. David felt your walls sucking him in again and growled as he fell against your back. He pumped his come against your cervix once more with a groan. He bit down on shoulder, his tongue tasting the sweat from your flesh. It took everything in him to keep from sinking his fangs into your skin wherever he could.

All the while you focused all your strength on not buckling under yours and David’s weight. You could feel his come and your slick drip down your folds and your clit. You whimpered at the feeling, you felt so fucked out and loved it. “Daavid,” you whined, he stepped out from under you and grabbed you by the top of your hair. “Aaah!” you shouted in pain as he pulled you to a kneel, he pushed his cock into your mouth and started fucking your face. You gagged and moaned against his girth; David moved his hands to hold you by the back of the neck and, pushed his thumbs up to your nose to fuck down your throat. You could feel his cock down the back of your throat, through the tears in your eyes you could see him above you; completely lost in his own instincts.

His cock slid quickly in and out, atop your tongue and he moaned, “so good.”

You could taste yourself on his length, your come and his come mixed in your mouth with your saliva. His cock was painfully big in your mouth, it almost felt like your jaw was going to pop. David pushed you deep on his cock till he was at the base against your lips, you could feel yourself beginning to gag, and he fucked hard shallow thrusts against the back of your throat. Your hands grabbed at his arms and dug your nails into his flesh as hard as you could manage; he pulled you off so you could breathe. You gasped loudly and he shoved his cock back inside.

David fucked back into your mouth; his pubes pressed against your nose. You fought to pull yourself off him, but his hold was too strong. He pushed the back of your head down on himself, shot down your throat and slowly pulled you from him; you were gasping for air. His come was salty and thick. You coughed as you tried to ease your breathing, but David still held you by the back of your head and jerked off in your face. He was going to cover you in himself. You flinched as he sprayed on your face and breasts. You could feel his cum dripping down your face, and you grumbled in protest. He ignored your complaints; hooked his hands under your arms, pulled you up off the ground, and wrapped your legs around his waist. David was standing; he had you held close against his body, and he lowered your weeping pussy back down on his cock. He licked a long stripe across the length of your neck and sucked bright red marks into your chest.

More, more, MORE, his mind screamed.

David held you by the plush of your ass and fucked up into you. His fingers gripped into your skin and if it wasn’t for his gloves, his claws would have ripped clean through your flesh. Your hands gripped tightly to the collar of his jacket, you whimpered and moaned as you felt his thick cock slide in and out of you. Your pussy was raw, and it felt like he had been fucking you for hours now; the pleasure that ripped through your body took your breath with it. The sound his hips made slapping against you ass was loud and wet, and you thought again of how grateful you were that there was no one around to witness you getting fucked like a pathetic doll.

“David,” you cried with the last of your energy. He didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop, and you didn’t entirely want him to stop.

“Keep squeezing my cock like that, sweet thing” David growled out. The way you spasmed around him had him fighting back the last of his sanity to not fuck clean through your cunt. He couldn’t push himself far enough into you, the way your fat little cunt sucked him in was enough to bring him to another orgasm. He could feel his and your cream dripping down his shaft and down his balls, he wanted to fill you to the brim, and he would fuck you as long as his hips would keep pistoning.

As your vision faded to black you watched David’s face. He was completely gone, and you were sure he was far from stopping that night. You felt him reposition you, he turned you around and gripped you by your hair and fucked you standing up. Your limp body being held up by his sheer strength; the pain on your scalp matching the pleasure that came from your pussy. You were going to pass out, and all you could do was listen to David as he moaned and growled, and whimpered praises and degradations into the night.

“Such a good toy; such a dirty whore; you fucking tease, you wanted this. My perfect fuck toy, my sweet thing I’m going to fill you. You want that don’t you? Of course, you do why else would your soft little pussy be sucking my cock like this? You want my come, don’t you? Say it. Say it! SAY IT!”

David adjusted how he was holding you; he laid you back down on the ground and wrapped your legs around his waist, he was pistoning into you again, demanding that you begged for his come. He looked down at your limp, weak body and screamed a loud, pained growl into the night. He couldn’t stop himself. He felt his mind slipping away. He was worried he hurt you, but he physically and mentally couldn’t bring himself to pull himself out of you. David had gone completely feral fucking into you; he couldn’t think of anything but scenting you and pleasuring himself with your warm wet cunt. He pressed his sweaty forehead against yours and covered you in his scent. There was little you could do but moan weakly, your eyes wouldn’t even flutter open anymore. He pulled your hips towards him and pushed deep against your cervix. You sobbed quietly, feeling his cock throbbing inside you, and he filled you again.

David finally stopped ravaging you some hours later. He kept going until he was past the point of exhaustion. You had long since passed out from the abuse on your body, and David knelt over your unconscious form. His mind stopped screaming, and he panted, hard. You were covered in bruises, bite marks, scratches, and his sweat and come. You smelled overwhelmingly of him, and he was finally satisfied. He looked over the cliff, he didn’t have the faintest idea how much time had actually passed, but he knew it would be morning soon. He gathered your things and stuffed them in your bag, he snorted softly as he picked up the gun and put it away too. He placed the bag on your chest and wrapped you in his jackets, he was much too tired to try and redress you, and he couldn’t guess when you would wake up. You groaned softly as he placed you in his lap and straddled the bike. He didn’t want to take you home like this, but he had little choice. He was too weak to fly you both home and he didn’t want to leave his bike so far from the cave.

So, he started the bike, with you draped over the front of his seat, and cradled you between his arms as he rode. Luckily, there was no one else on the road at this hour… whatever hour it was. It took longer to ride back to the cave than he had hoped, as he had to drive slowly for fear of dropping you. Finally, he’d reached the entrance to the cave, he put the stand out and carried you down into his home.

“Aye, there he is,” the boys shouted.

“Hey man, we brought you back a doggy bag,” Marko, who was wearing the cashier’s uniform hat, pointed to a 7-11 cup that Paul was sipping on. “Dude fucking knock it off,” he chucked an empty beer can at Paul.

“My bad,” Paul laughed and popped the straw out of his mouth. The big gulp was in fact, filled with blood, “where have you been all night?”

David walked down the entrance into the cave, cradling you close to his body. The boys sniffed at the air, “dude, what the fuck is that smell.”

The boys covered their noses with their jackets.

“Bro what is that?”

Their senses were assaulted with the unbearable scent of David that was coming off your body. He walked you down to a small alcove where the bed was, he placed you gently down and the boys walked over to investigate.

Still covering his nose, Marko looked down at you, “oh David… what the fuck did you do?” David moved to grab a bucket and some rice for you and put them by the bed.

“Is… is she still alive?” Paul asked, peering down at you.

“Of course, she’s alive you idiot, can’t you hear her breathing?” Dwayne mocked him.

David had knelt down by you on the bed and brushed your hair out of your face. “David… what did you do man?” Marko asked worryingly.

“She’s fine,” he sighed out, “she’s just tired.” He handed your bag to Dwayne, “put this where she can’t get it.” Dwayne looked briskly into the bag, then flew up to put it in a hanging light high in the cave ceiling.

“Dude she’s covered in bruises! What happened?”

David snapped his head to look at the boys, “it’s not like that,” he growled at Marko, “I just…I just got carried away…,” he looked back down at you, his expression softening. With the back of his hand, he rubbed gently on your cheek, “really…she’s fine.” He stood and took the cup from Paul, “no one is to touch her. And no one will tell Max about this.” The boys watched him as he flew up into the roost, “I’m fucking going to sleep.”

Paul leaned down to sniff you, “ugh,” he wafted his hand in front of his face and left to the roost. Marko pulled the jacket closer around you and turned to follow the others to bed.

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lostlosersclub · 2 months

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join the discord server!!

~☆welcome☆~

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

~my name is nico (mutuals may call me neeks)

~trans boy (he/him)

~gay

~audhd (autistic+adhd)

~im a minor; be chill

~i block freely

~bad at communication; sorry if i come off as rude

~i love to get more moots so if you want to be mutuals im open

~i use tone tags a lot !! i would recommend using them when talking with me just to be safe that i dont misinterpret your intentions

~i have a lot of issues. i may say concerning stuff, just ignore

~im VERY bad at remembering to tag my posts, sorry :[

special interests:

• osemanverse

• pjo, hoo, toa

• spiderman

tv shows:

• brooklyn 99

• community

• the owl house

• amphibia

• adventure time

• shera princess of power

• what we do in the shadows

• scott pilgrim (movie, books, and show)

video games:

• stardew valley

• sally face

• night in the woods

• the quarry

• the sims

kins:

• nico di angelo (pjo) (headcannons here!)

• hunter (toh)

• charlie spring (heartstopper)

hobbies:

•instruments (drums, guitar, bass, and piano)

•drawing

•reading

other socials:

•roblox: UwUIDontCare000 (no making fun of me its from 2021)

•pinterest: St4rryN1ghtm4r3

•tiktok: st4rry_n1ghm4r3 (i dont post on there btw)(also its a private acc so lmk what ur username is before you follow rq me)

•discord: moots can dm me for link

☆i think thats all, bye☆

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iamcautiouslyoptimistic · 18 days

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Deja Vu ~ Russell Adler x Female Reader

{Author's Note} This was inspired by @alypink's recent Adler render where he's leaning against a muscle car AND HOO BOY that put tons of thoughts in my head about a younger Adler before he heads off to Vietnam. Reader in this story dated him before he went off to war and they got together again after the events of the Cold War game. I probably got some timeline stuff wrong but I did my research and tried to keep it consistent lol. A horrendous sinus infection has given me a short break from school as I start some medications to clear it up so that means more time for writing! Anyway, I hope y'all enjoy this! I've got plenty of ideas for a younger Adler x reader series so expect more in the future! And let me know if you'd like to be removed or added to the tag list🫶🏻 I don't know if I managed to include everyone that I wanted to so please let me know! AND YES I'm using a Robert Redford gif because they're basically the same person in my eyes LOL {Tag List} @littlemissclandestine @alypink @mctvsh @adlerboi @deadbranch @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world @ghostlythots @glitterypirateduck

Russell Adler x Female Reader

❌Content Warning: none❌

~ ~ ~

1965

“When are you leaving again?”

Adler sends you a glance through dark shades as you pass him a bucket full of water. He takes it easily, hefting it with little issue while you had struggled to lift it only moments ago.

“In a month,” he responds and splashes the bucket’s contents across the windshield of his car. “Higher ups are gettin’ worried about the increased communist presence in Vietnam so they’re sending in some troops. I’ll be going on behalf of the CIA to do some recon and see if we can figure out what’s happening over there.”

You knew that already. He’d told you half a dozen times before but he answered you anyway. He knew how worried you were about the threat of impending war, especially when he was being sent into the midst of it with little choice to refuse.

All you can manage is a nod as you focus on sponging down the window opposite him. He notices your silence and rounds the car, drying his palms on his already damp tank top.

“I’ll be fine, sweetheart,” he murmurs softly as he grasps your chin and guides your face to look at him. You blink back tears and he wipes away the few that manage to escape with gentle thumbs.

“Just gotta make sure the Soviets aren’t meddling in things,” he continues. “It shouldn’t take long.”

You nod as he caresses the curves of your cheeks. “I just want you to be careful.”

And come back alive, you think to yourself. Come back to me.

He leans to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I will. Promise.”

His lips meet yours in a tender kiss, one that makes you smile and clears the mist from your eyes.

“Now, help me finish cleaning this thing before Sims gets here. He needs to see this baby in all her glory.”

You laugh, feeling your heart lighten as Russ turns up the radio. He bobs his head to The Beach Boys song flowing through the speakers and you promise yourself to commit this moment to memory. The glint of his shades in the sunlight, the shimmer of golden hair as he pushes it off his forehead, the movement of his arms and back as he leans over the hood of his car. The image is imprinted in your mind’s eye for years to come.

~ ~ ~

1982

Adler has changed, though your memories of him have not. He’s still stubborn as a mule with an envy-inducing sense of style and a love for muscle cars. He’s older now, quieter and less open, scarred both physically and mentally after his time in Vietnam. His most recent escapade involved a former Soviet agent who he refuses to talk about so you don’t push the topic. You’re just happy he’s come back to you.

“You gonna keep staring or help me clean this thing?” Russ says with a slight smile. His shades reflect the sun the same way they did all those years ago and you hurry to his side, upping the radio’s volume on the way.

Russ likes to talk about cars and so you let him, enjoying the sound of his voice as he guides you through the inner workings of the machinery before you. He's gentle and careful with his movements, and you notice the serenity in his features. It was one of the few times he was able to relax, a brief moment where he didn't carry the world on his shoulders. You know he's not perfect, far from it, but he deserves this temporary peace and you're thankful that you're present to enjoy it with him.

“Do you know that I love you?” you ask suddenly. The comment makes Russ pause in his work, gaze lifting to yours as he straightens.

"That so?"

You giggle. "You're supposed to say it back, you know," you tease, fully aware of his tendency to play coy with this sort of thing.

He brushes stray strands of hair from your face, the pads of his fingers delicately tracing your features. He was hesitant to touch you these days, fearing you'd be disgusted by his calloused hands, but you made it a point to remind him that such things were a sign that he had survived and kept his promise to you, even if it had taken longer than either of you had anticipated.

"I love you, too," he murmurs, his voice a low whisper, as if he were afraid to release the phrase into the world where it could be taken from him.

You grin and lean to press a kiss to his scarred cheek, hearing his contented sigh as his arms settle around your waist. You promise to commit this moment to memory, just as you had countless times before, adding it to the complicated collection of images and sensations that made up Russell Adler.

#Ren's writing #mine mine mine #russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell adler x you #call of duty black ops cold war #cod bocw #call of duty #cod

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pralinesims · 8 months

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The BOLD THE FACTS tag

Here comes the last one out of the 4 story mains...

Luca!

radioactive sunshine bottled into a human

[ PERSONAL ]

$ Financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty ✚ Medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable ✪ Class or Caste: upper / middle / working / unsure / other ✔ Education: qualified / unqualified / studying / other (expelled from school) ✖ Criminal Record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes (hoo boy...) / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet / yes, but charges were dismissed

[ FAMILY ]

◒ Children: had a child or children / has no children / wants children (maybe!) ◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased ◔ Affiliation: orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent / not applicable

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ]

♦ extroverted / introverted / in between ♦ disorganized / organized / in between ♦ close minded / open-minded / in between ♦ calm / anxious / in between ♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between ♦ cautious / reckless / in between ♦ patient / impatient / in between ♦ outspoken / reserved / in between ♦ leader / follower / in between ♦ empathetic / vicious bastard / in between ♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between ♦ traditional / modern / in between♦ hard-working / lazy / in between ♦ cultured / uncultured / in between / unknown ♦ loyal / disloyal / unknown ♦ faithful / unfaithful / unknown

[ BELIEFS ]

★ Faith: monotheist / polytheist / atheist / agnostic ☆ Belief in Ghosts or Spirits: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✮ Belief in an Afterlife: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✯ Belief in Reincarnation: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ❃ Belief in Aliens: yes / no / don’t know / don’t care ✧ Religious: orthodox / liberal / in between / not religious ❀ Philosophical: yes / no

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ]

❤ Sexuality: heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual ❥ Sex: sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless ♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious ❣ Sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious ⚧ Potential Sexual Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all ⚧ Potential Romantic Partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all

[ ABILITIES ]

☠ Combat Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ≡ Literacy Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ✍ Artistic Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ✂ Technical Skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[ HABITS ]

☕ Drinking Alcohol: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / Alcoholic ☁ Smoking: tried it / trying to quit / quit / never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / Chain-smoker ✿ Recreational Drugs: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / addict ✌ Medicinal Drugs: never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently (he's doing most of them just for fun btw) / to excess ☻ Unhealthy Food: never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater $ Splurge Spending: never / sometimes / frequently / shopaholic ♣ Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler

The Rules are simple! Tag people and name a character you want to know more about! If you want to let the person you tagged decide who to showcase, then don’t name a character and they can pick somebody. Easy! The person who is tagged will then bold the remarks below which apply to their character &, if they want to, include a picture with their reply!

Tagging @mattodore @diactrl @aliengirl @salemsimss @simkoos @nucrests @void-imp @sweetbeagaming @browntrait @aurorangen @damseljamsel @bunmou @vyxated @the-daydream-archives and everyone who's in mood to do this.

#my baby who did a lot of stuff wrong in his life #(it's ok! forgiven and forgotten... and so on... et cetera etc...)#he was struggling REALLY hard! give him a break and all that.#tag game #my sims #oc facts #luca

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sad-ghost-of-garbage · 11 months

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Toxic Paul Blurb

Author: SadGhostofGarbage

Lost Boys Paul x GN reader

Warnings: DARK fic, TOXIC relationship, death of a close person, murder, depictions of gore, puking, obsession.

Hoo boy buckle up I never imagined Paulie being a big fat asshole but here we are and idk about you but toxic paul is kinda hot af 🥵 I will make one for each of the boys … eventually 😆

Paul

Red. That was what you were greeted with. While everything looked red, it tasted and smelled of copper. Acid churned in your stomach as bile rose into your throat. The sound of your heart beat echoed through the room. You were going to throw up. Closing your eyes, scrunching them up as tight as they would go, you tried not to think about the squelching your feet made as you tried to back away. Cold wet hands grabbed your face and his once soothing voice held an edge of malic you'd never imagined coming from the same man who would sing you lullabies when you couldn't sleep. “Come on sugar. Open your eyes.” The grip on your face tightened and you could feel the start of his claws indenting into your flesh. Dark haunting chuckles were whispered into your hair as he took in a deep breath. “I need you to look, baby.” You couldn’t, you wouldn’t. You didn't want to see the carnage again, the sight of your dead friend already scarred into your memories. Your shaken roughly as Paul growls into your ear, “Open your fucking eyes gorgeous.” Opening your eyes out of fear you keep them trained on the ground. Your head is moved upwards to the horrid scene in front of you. Wrapping his other arm around your middle Paul presses his cheek against yours. “Look baby, look at what you’ve done.” The gore, the viscera clinging onto what used to be your friend had you throwing up. Paul just holds you while you retch, whispering sweet nothings into your hair as he pets your neck lovingly. Once you’ve emptied your stomach to the point you couldn’t get anything else out, you slump, whimpering as tears flow down your cheeks. Your throat burned as you spoke the only coherent question on your mind,

“Why?” Raw and breathy your voice cracks and grates against your throat, causing you to gag again. Paul whips you around in his arm and cradles your face with one hand.

“Aw baby, can’t you see I’m doing this because I love you?” At his words you find your strength to struggle and fight against him.

“What the fuck? You killed my friend because you love me?” Fighting against his inhuman grip you practically scream, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Paul has learned a vast number of traits throughout his unlife, patience is not one of them. Getting fed up with your unwillingness to see things his way, his grip on your arms tightened. Any tighter and he might actually break your bones.

“Now sugar, there's no need to be rude. Paulie was just protecting his turf. That disgusting friend of yours wanted you, and you needed to learn that my love is all you need.” With that he forces you to look at him and says, “I will always be the only one you need, baby. Forget it, and your friends will die.”

Tagging the beautiful @britany1997 because she asked to be tagged 🫶🏽

#sgog writes #sgog #lost boys x reader #the lost boys #the lost boys paul #the lost boys Paul x reader

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callsign-marlie · 2 years

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fly boy

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x f! civilian reader

warning: mature content 18+ *minors dni!*, drinking/alcohol/drunkenness, unprotected seggsy time w/ consent, pregnancy kink (??) a lil twist at the end, but other than that really not so much shockingly

summary: a fated failed football catch in a precarious situation leads you to a night you'll replay over and over in your head for the rest of your days.

a/n: let's pray that the tags work today but HOO BOY this is my third time trying to post this, tumblr gods please be on my side.

if you need me, i'll be thinking up domestic situations with my favorite pilots k thanks <3

Your beer was flattening by the second, but you just couldn’t get yourself to pick up the sweating glass to chug it down. After all, you’d lose your one and only form of entertainment. Every few seconds, a little carbonated bubble floated to the surface and you would count as many as you could in a minute’s time.

16.

Already significantly less than what was coming up just five minutes ago. You tipped your wrist to peek at your watch again. Twenty minutes past the hour. He was late.

“Stood up, hun?” The bartender, Penny, gave you a sad smile, drying her hands on the towel that hung from her belt loop. “A pretty thing like you shouldn’t be sitting alone drowning in the amber depths, you know. You should be out on that dance floor with the others, enjoying yourself!”

A sigh escaped your lips as your eyes wandered to the group of people out dancing to the jukebox. People from all walks of life were dancing on the floor, singing at the top of their lungs, mingling in quiet corners, or playing billiards at one of The Hard Deck’s various tables. Everyone seemed to be in their own spaces, enjoying their own little slices of life while you’ve been stuck sitting there. Counting fucking bubbles. “I’ve been waiting here for twenty minutes already, so there’s probably a good chance that the fly boy I met today ain’t gonna come hang out.”

The bartender crossed her arms, her hip coming out to the side. “Fly boy? You mean one of the aviators?” Penny huffed loud, ripping her towel from her belt loop and snapping it in the air before you. The wind from the whip made you flinch as it parted the wisps of hair near the top of your forehead. “Take it from me,” she started low, a pointed glare. “Never. Trust. Aviators. They’re gonna let you crash before they turn n’ burn out of there themselves so they don’t get taken down too.”

She grabbed at the now flattened lager on your coaster and poured another one straight from the tap. A new crisp cloud of foam rested gently at the top. “This one’s the house, hun. But don’t wait too long. That guy doesn’t owe you anything for wasting your time. It’s no use waiting on something that won’t ever come.”

You raise your glass to the bar patroness in thanks and take a long gulp. It was a bit more hoppy than you thought it would have been. Based on the color, you were expecting bitter, but not this almost refreshing tang tied with fruity undertones left on the bottom of your tongue.

Coming out to bustling Miramar for an assignment, you never expected the variety of tastes, sights, and sounds you could come to encounter. You had quickly settled in on the scenic North Island base, finding the heat and sun of the beaches to be more relaxing than the hustle and bustle of your resident city.

A trip to the beach earlier that day with your favorite book should have been all relaxation and no fuss, but a stray football landing at your feet with a tanned hunk suddenly face up under your beach chair and between your parted legs left you with your heart beating in your throat. Your head was most certainly out of sorts.

He had those boyish magazine model good looks about him, two pink scars folding themselves down his cheek to mar his skin. Natural sun highlights fell through his dark locks and he smelled of coconut and sunscreen; salt, sweat, and the musk of the sand mingling. However, the fear and nervousness in his hazel eyes as he did his best to scramble away from beneath your beach chair left you awed. He stood at quick attention, his rippling abdominals tightening into a strict posture befitting a soldier.

“I-I’m sorry, ma’am, got a little too overzealous with that catch, ma’am. Please forgive me ma’am, I-I’m so so sorry.” He stuttered through his apology, his slim mustache crinkling up at every pronunciation of ma’am. Sweat lined the top of his lip and his aviator sunglasses were aske, covered with sand as he stood at attention. A pretty little flush was apparent on his chest all the way up to his ears. You did your best to come back to reality.

“I-It’s ok, sailor, no harm no foul. You’re not hurt right?” He relaxed just a moment, letting his shoulders roll forward with a deep exhale. “Not in the slightest. Sorry about that again.”

“Hey, things happen. Would have been cooler if you caught the ball though.” You tossed the pig skin back at your resident Baywatch babe and watched him recoil at the force of the toss, clutching it to his chest. “I’ll try my best to be cooler, ma’am. Make sure you watch, this next one’s gonna be for you.” A crooked smirk left his lips, and your chest fluttered.

Shit.

He stopped his trot back to his buddies suddenly and turned around. “Also, I’m not a sailor, ma’am. I’m a pilot. An aviator. Call sign Rooster. But you? You can call me Bradley.” He left you breathless with a wink before bounding off. You barely had a moment to register what he said before you yelled back, “I’m (y/n)! And quit callin’ me ma’am, fly boy! I’m not that old!”

You had done your best to get back to your fiction, but always found your eyes gazing back up to the large group of pilots playing the most ridiculous game of tag football you had ever seen. Another toss lobbed its way through the air and Bradley grabbed it easily from another tall blonde, clutching it to his chest before spiking it to the ground in victory. His eyes rotated back to you for approval and you gave him a small clap on the top of your now forgotten book. He faced you and gave a cheeky little bow before returning back to his match up.

Son of a bitch.

Before you knew it, the sun was setting, but you didn’t leave that beach until the rowdy group had begun to pack up their things. Bradley was out of sight and you were slightly disappointed you wouldn’t see him again, but quickly packed up your bag and made your way back to your car.

You heard someone shout your name from behind you and found Bradley, still sun-kissed and beautiful, trotting up to you. “Hey, (y/n), lost sight of you! Thought I wasn’t ever gonna see you again.”

You threw your things in the back of your Volkswagen’s trunk and slammed the lid closed, leaning against the back cap with your arms crossed against the dusk. “I guess I was more invested in your game than I thought, but I still don’t really know who won.” “We had lost track a long time ago. We were just having fun at that point,” he grinned, tucking his hands into his jeans pocket. Even with night’s dark approaching, his smile was luminous. “But listen, I wanted to see if you wanted to catch a drink with me. There’s a little bar down the road over there called The Hard Deck that I like and wanted to know if you wanted to come by and have a drink with me. I gotta make it up to you for my little stunt somehow.”

A grin passed your lips, teeth and all. “Well, fly boy, I think that’s the least you can do for me. Wanna meet at 8? I have to run home and get myself cleaned up first.”

“It’s a date, darlin'. I’ll see you there.”

And that’s the last time you saw Bradley “Rooster” whatever-his-last-name-was because you were too in awe of him to think to ask for it. Or for his phone number, for that matter.

Recalling the event had you downing your fresh pint and scooting yourself off the bench with a wave goodbye to Penny. Fuck that guy. He couldn’t even pay you back for embarrassing you to sin; what a joke.

Just as you were about to go through the swinging entrance doors to your car, your face bumped into a hard chest and the faint scent of coconut and sunscreen arrested your senses. Strong hands braced your arms before you stumbled back, steadying you upright. And there he was. Shining and bright, all smiles and youth and beauty. An Apollo of the night time. Just… not as regal as you thought.

Of course, as an aviator with a name like Rooster, you should have expected him to be wearing his sunglasses at night. He wore a simple white undershirt under an open tacky 80’s Hawaiian shirt, jean cut offs lingering just above the knees with flip flops to match. He tossed you a goofy smile, a hand immediately going behind his head. “Jeez, good thing I caught you. Gotta look where you’re going, dollface! W-wait, where were you going?” You tightened your teeth against each other, doing your best not to let them grind while you pushed past him.

“I was just going to leave, thanks.”

“What?! I just got here though! I still owe you a drink!” He sounded pitiful, like a child forced to come in from play too early.

“You’re late, Bradley. A drink’s just not worth my time.”

A heavy pout crossed over him as he followed you out the door. Back to the cold outside. “Oh come on, (y/n), I was picking up some friends to bring! Look, look, look, how about this.”

Long fingers grabbed you around the wrist to spin your frame to him. As much as you wanted to slap his hand away, his pleading hazel eyes begged for only a moment of your time. “All of your drinks are on me tonight. Just come back inside. I wanna introduce you to my pals.” His gaze locked with yours, his intentions delivered to you by telepathy: pure, truthful, and genuine. A glimmer of hope.

You broke your gaze first with a flush, moving your way back into The Hard Deck and yanking your hand away. “Fine, FINE. All of them. And unfortunately for your wallet, Mr. Rooster, I’m no lightweight.”

He laughed, a playful arm wrapped around your shoulders, that damned smile shining through his lips while he led you forward back into the crowded noise of the bar. A full man child, this one. So easily pleased. “Mr. Rooster. That’s a good one. The last name’s Bradshaw, by the way. Bradley Bradshaw.”

Your nose crinkled at the thought, creased with laughter. “Jeez, did your parents hate your or something?”

He grinned, tight lipped only this time. You didn’t catch his tone or his words against the clamor of the jukebox.

He herded you over to a group of well dressed aviators in their flight uniforms, so very unlike his civie get up. A pretty brunette who waved and quickly moved to your side with a glass of something good, a blondie with a cocky smile who winked at you so much you almost thought it was some kind of tic, a shy guy hanging out in the corner with glasses hanging from his nose looking nowhere and everywhere all at once. There was a tall, willowy fella waving over from the dart board with a shorter, stronger man giving a charming grin trying to block the tall guy's shot. The final one was sitting with a pool cue in his hand waiting for his move to strike, so he only gave a nod in your direction.

Phoenix. Hangman. Bob. Payback. Fanboy. Coyote. Bradley had whispered all of their call signs into your ear while his arm draped around the plateau of your shoulders. His words were starting to slur from the constant flow of Budweisers in his system and his breath was getting heavier the longer the night rolled on. You yourself however, felt light as a feather: finally at ease and calm.

You laughed with your new friends and hollered with them at the final 8 ball shot Phoenix landed on Hangman and when she pulled the crisp $20 bill from his breast pocket. You cheered with the rest when the bar’s bell rang signaling a new round of drinks.

Time never stopped. The night felt like it rolled forever.

And then, clear as a bell, a piano played.

You didn’t notice that Rooster’s arm had left its constant perch and was currently tickling the ivories placed in the center of the room. Phoenix, a blush of alcohol across her cheeks, pulled you to the center next to the piano to listen to Bradley play. God, the way his long digits danced across the keys was an intricate dance. A tango, a jive, a Charleston. Each beat was different, each tone rang true.

Eventually, a familiar tune shook through the establishment as Bradley’s deep timbre reverberated through its foundation.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain Too much love drives a man insane You broke my will But what a thrill,”

And suddenly, the whole bar erupted. “Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!”

A joyous laughs ruptured from your lungs as the song went on, your feet twirling you across the dance floor while Rooster sang out loud, His brow was beaded with sweat. Fanboy came away from the dart board to spin you around and around before launching you at Phoenix, who held you tight before you fell to the ground in your stupor. You both rocked together, holding hands and shaking your hips to the beat. You were free, albeit drunk, but free nonetheless.

In your drunken romp, you never noticed Rooster’s eyes on you the entire time you danced. He watched the delicate framing of your arms, the bounce of your chest, the way the strap of your top dropped from your shoulder. How beads of sweat made the strands of hair on your forehead stick, or the blush of alcohol spreading across your neck to your shoulders. You were radiant. Glowing, an angel on earth.

“Rooster’s got the hots for youuuuu, girl,” Phoenix yelled, the bass of the room rolling in your chest. “He hasn’t stopped trying to touch you or look at you all night. He’s all eyes on you.”

She spun you to her quick, your neck snapping back to center with a giggle. Her smile was genuine, gentle and kind, letting you have ample time to return your own. “He’s a good one. I’d trust him with my life if I could.” And with a wink, she was gone in a flash to crowd the piano with her crew.

Your eyes drifted back to the piano man, his skin flushed and glowing under the spotlights. His head tilted back with a vein popping from his chest at the strain of the notes he was singing. The crowds were perched around his piano.

If you didn’t act now, maybe you’d never get this moment back again.

“Hey Rooster, you big stuuuuud,” you drawled, raising your glass to him.

He smiled under his breath to turn behind him, as if he wasn’t watching you the whole time. His fingers never stopped playing. “What’s up, darlin’?”

You gave a devious grin, your nose wrinkling just the way he liked. “Take me to bed or lose me forever!”

“Show me the way home!” he howled, finishing off the final verse with the howls and stomps of the bar behind him.

The crowd roared while he came up from his seat. He threw a huge wad of cash towards Penny, who gave him a knowing smile and a wink towards you. Don’t trust aviators, huh? Maybe this will be different, Penny. I feel it in my gut.

The cold of the night met your skin before you knew it and Rooster had you piggybacked to him before you could even scream to make him put you down. His abs rippled underneath your constricted legs, while his musk invaded your senses.

He walked and walked while you directed him to the place you were staying, as both of you were too in the bag to think about getting behind a wheel tonight. Your head laid on his upper shoulders while you talked about life: how you were a morning person and he was a night owl, how breakfast was your favorite and he could eat dessert for every meal.

Eventually, your surprise charter dropped you at the entrance of your home and you fumbled with the keys to unlock the door. You didn’t bother turning around while you walked in. You left the door open as you walked into the foyer, leaving your shoes at the door. That ball was in his court now.

And thankfully, you heard the door shut on its own not too long later.

You were in the kitchen with the lights dimmed low, grabbing some glasses of water and some pain medicine for your impending hangover when the pilot sauntered in. Sandals off, like a gentleman. You rolled a glass and some tablets in his direction, taking your own at the same time. As you gulped down the water, you motioned for him to swallow them. “Trust me, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

He did as he was told and you watched a rebel droplet of water sink its way down the side of his neck, rolling down the skin of his jugular. Before your brain could process what was happening, your tongue was rolling along his salt-tainted skin, licking up the pesky drop to capture his lips. It was instant electricity.

You were never this forward. Never this powerful. Something had come over you, watching him play that piano. Feeling the weight of his arm on your shoulder all night. The weight of his gaze on your form. The heaviness of his words in the shell of your ear. The feeling of his hard body pressed against your chest while he jostled you the whole way home.

A surprised mewl left his throat before he registered what had happened. His lips pressed harder against your own, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip to seek purchase to its new territory. It was all carnal as his hands found the back of your head and tangled themselves in your hair. The gentle pull of his fingers roped a surprise gasp from your lips, your jaw opening. He pulled away from you for a moment to look over your wanton face, eyes half lidded and lips swollen. He dove back in, pressing the small of your back against your kitchen island. “I may not need to thank you tomorrow. I may just thank you right now.”

Your hands grazed themselves over the ripples of his undershirt (Hawaiian shirt be damned to the linoleum floor), and lifted the hem to gently rake your nails over the smooth skin of his abdomen. He sucked in a deep breath at your feather light touches while he pulled you to sit on the edge of the island. His digits groped down your body, gently fondling the front of your chest. The pleasant shocks that rose over your skin that left goosebumps and the hair on your skin to rise. You broke his kiss, your tongues ceasing their battle for the briefest of moments for you to whisper: “Bed.”

You hopped down to grab his hand and pull him towards your bedroom, doing your best to keep as many body parts connected to him as possible. You were both a flurry of mouths, hands, skin and nails. You couldn’t let each other go, even if you tried.

He lifted you from the floor and planted you on your back atop your comforter, kissing down your clothed abdomen and running those magical, calloused hands across the exposed skin of your thighs. His mustache tickled at your skin while he nosed up the hem of your top to lick a circle at your belly button. The dampness between your legs was becoming insufferable as you squirmed under him, your fingers aching to the nerve to pull him closer.

Your top was off and your bra was shed without you realizing, you left nipple wrapped up in the warmth of his mouth. Rooster’s tongue circled and flicked at the bud, grabbing a high pitched whine from the root of your chest. He popped his lips off only for a moment to smile at you.

“Well if that wasn’t the prettiest noise I’ve ever heard,” he mused, keeping eye contact while he attached himself to the right and repeated the movement. Your breath was coming in shakily at his ministrations, the heat in your gut an impossible ache that needed relief. “Roo… Roo- Bradley, please.”

“Please what, honey? Use those words.” His fingers took their time getting to your shorts, skillfully popping the button with two fingers. “What do you want? I’ll do anything you ask me to, baby.”

“I need you, in me. This second. Foreplay be damned, I need your cock now.”

That charming smile flew back to his lips as he left a chaste kiss to your forehead. “As you wish, ma’am.”

You raised your hips enough to slide off your shorts while Bradley simply moved the cloth covering your core to the side of your thigh. He rolled himself down the bed to inspect the site for himself, groaning out loud, his head tilting back in the dim light for you to see the gleam of his throat illuminating the love bites you left behind.

“God, doll, you’re soaked. Just one taste? Please? Pretty pretty please? It looks just delicious,” he moaned out, running the tip of his index finger over your slick. Moans fell out of your mouth like a stream at this point: it was a flood. “B-Bradley, stop, I’ll cum like that.”

“Maybe that’s what I want, (y/n),” he muttered, a new darkness overtaking his tone. He crept his way back up to your face, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached a point where his hardness was pressed against you. “Maybe I want you to cum all over my fingers. Make you cum so hard, you’d squirt all over the bed. I’d make you beg me to stop. I bet you’d like that, huh?”

As much as the thought pleased you, the image of his mouth on your pussy, fingers curled deep inside, his mustache making that sweet friction against your clit, you had to do everything in your power to shoo the thoughts away. Just the pressure of his dick on your wet pussy, the heat, the girth, and the insatiable hunger was enough to grab him by the back of his hair to pull him down to you. “Put your cock in me right now, Lieutenant.”

That was it. All guns were blazing.

Rooster’s shorts and underwear were gone in an instant and he was lined up at your entrance at supersonic speed. He paused for a moment, the length of him resting on top of your stomach. His hands gripped underneath your chin as he left a sweet kiss on your lips. This man was a double edged sword; so sweet, tender even, and the next minute? A demon. A full, lustful demon ready to take you to hell with him. Now you understand Penny’s warning.

“Honey, (y/n) I don’t have any protection with me. Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Bradley, I couldn’t give a shit if I got pregnant with your baby right now. I don’t think I’ve ever needed a cock as much as I need yours right now. Just fucking give it to me.” And that was the truth. The alcohol was burning out of your system like rocket fuel and you were nearly completely sober. You couldn’t even see what his cock looked like in the dim light of the nighttime, but you knew it was everything you needed and more.

With that blessing, his forehead on yours, Rooster slowly sunk his cock into you, each tantalizing inch stretching your walls just enough. You both groaned out loud as he kept pushing, little by little, until he was sheathed to the hilt. He looked down at your face, sweat beading along his chest, dropping a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to your neck. A string of saliva connected between the two of you. A quick breath. “‘M gonna move.”

His hips rocked into your slick and you could have sworn you were going to melt. His left hand reached to connect to your neck and leave the gentlest of pressures while he pulled long strokes from your pussy. He grabbed a cry from you with each slide. Your lungs felt like they were going to explode, your heart fluttering in your chest at the pressure on your throat, his smooth voice whispering the filthiest things in your ears. Each time his cock, thick and veined, dragged from your heat, an emptiness and hollowness were left behind that only let you want more. More.

The more Bradley picked up his speed, the more comfortable you became. He released his hand from your throat and placed both hands on either side of your head. His face was close, his eyes half lidded with your mouths mere millimeters apart. You exchanged your breath, each pant and groan, each soft ‘please’ that echoed from your lips drove his hips forward to delirium.

The heat in your core pooled and pooled until finally, it gushed free from you, a relief like aloe rushing over your system. Bradley captured your lips to muffle your scream to a moan as you rippled around him, the shock of the contractions nearly bringing him to his own premature end. When the shocks were quelled, he cooed against your skin. His mouth left icy spots along your neck, your forehead, your chest. “Atta girl,” he whispered before placing a kiss on your forehead. “That’s my girl. Good job, baby. So good. Wow.”

You reveled in his praise, rubbing your cheek against his shoulders in comfort. Your stomach was in knots, but was slowly untangling itself and burning up again at the fullness already within you.

“Lay on your side.” So gentle, his commands, that you did what you were told without a word. Your head was hazy and your vision was blurry in the dark of the night, but his hands enveloped your chest to hug your back to his own, his cock already positioned behind you. He slid in just as easy, this new angle eliciting the sweetest moan from his throat. You let your hands roll behind you to tangle themselves in his sandy locks as he took the liberty to move on his own accord. His strong left arm wrapped around your breasts while his right gripped the side of your hip, fucking himself into you at a speed you had yet to experience that night.

You tipped your forehead back to meet his eyes, his pupils blown out. “Cum for me, baby,” you moaned, the friction in your pussy pulling your coil back taught. “I want you to cum in me. Fill me up. I wanna feel you, please, I want it so bad.”

At your words, his strokes only got faster, shorter, and hiccupped in rhythm. Bradley couldn’t speak: the only thought he had was to follow your plea. He pulled you tight to himself and spilled into you, his hot, heavy breath in your ear sending goosebumps down your arms. You shushed him as he moaned your name over and over, his hips sputtering into you. The feeling of him filling you was enough to settle the burning in the pit of your stomach, the flames dying out to a mere kindle.

You did your best from your position to comfort Bradley from his high, your fingers playing with his hair, your lips running along the curves and valleys of his strong arms. “You did amazing, hun,” you muttered, his small shakes and tremors running along your back. “I have you. I promise. I got you.”

He pulled you closer to him, breathing in your hair, your scent, your everything. The world slowly came back to focus to the point where he was able to dislodge himself, rolling on his back. You rolled back to your side of the bed and just laughed, garnering a chuckle from him as well.

“That was hot as fuck,” you said out loud, extending your hand out to the aviator. His grin was infectious, high fiving you in the process planted a chaste kiss on your palm to quell the burn. “Oh fuck yeah, we should do that again sometime.”

Rooster rolled on his side, a hand reaching to the bed stand beside him to click on the light. The warmth of the lamp rushed the room as he rummaged through a plate beside the bed, pulling a silver ring from the mess of notes and dog tags to place it back on his left ring finger. He wiggled his fingers, a whole man again, before dropping his wrist back to the bed. “Certainly spiced things up a little, don’t you think?”

Your own band was already back on your own left finger, giggles erupting from deep in your chest. “I can’t believe you even got Penny in on it, you pervert! Recreating the day we first met, the bar, the guys. Even the shirt.” Lo and behold, Bradley, the perfectionist he was, dug out the the exact same dumb Hawaiian shirt that he had wore the first time he took you for a drink after that fateful game of dogfight football. Where he introduced you to the Dagger squad. To where he piggybacked you home the whole way. To the first night you kissed and swore up and down you wouldn’t ever be with a Fly Boy.

But here you were, three years later, happily married, and freshly moved from your shared apartment in Virginia to your new home in the newly promoted Captain Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw’s station in North Island.

He’ll be teaching advanced aerial maneuvers to the new incoming classes of Top Gun along with Hangman and Phoenix.

You reached your arms out to your husband, making a grabbing motion. “Come here, hot stuff, gimme some sugar.”

“I think I gave you enough sugar tonight, sugar,” he laughed, enveloping your form against his chest. You planted gentle kisses along his breast bone to rest right over his beating heart. You hung there in silence in his arms, naked, comfortable, warm.

You had almost thought by the way his breathing slowed that he had fallen asleep before you could clean up, but his voice whispered out from the dark when your own eyes had begun to drift. “Hey (y/n), I have a question for you.”

“What is it, love?”

“I love you. So much.”

You tilted your head up, an eyebrow raised. “Roo, that’s not a question, baby.”

“And it never will be.”

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