#i just love round headed fellas i just do

[thewandererh]

I think I have a type 😳

@calamarispider (ran no have @ :[)

(behold, the beginning of a however-long-spanning jashling gift bomb. this one is of a few specific round headed jashling fellows i adore with all my heart 😭. you can see where Dyadracide’s inspiration came from <33)

[donelywell]

HERES YOUR ART PAYMENT

SILVER!!!! (and Espio)

The boyyyy!!! Worth every cent!

[dckweed]

Not sure if you're doing top gun requests right now, but if so, here's one. Rooster with a girl who is helping penny at the bar on a super busy night and there is some rowdy group who keeps calling her over and staring at her, and eventually they go too far and try to grab her but she just knocks one of them clean out and as the guys (hangman, fanboy, etc) is taking care of them, rooster takes her away bc she was about to go crazy on them lol. He's just like "that was so hot but you don't need to go to prison tonight."

baby i am always taking top gun requests. ooooh i love this idea so freaking much, thank you for choosing me to send it too, i absolutely do love it when you guys send things!

please note that i see every request that comes in and i am getting to them one at a time! with that being said, feel free to send one in!

anway, how are we all doing today? are we staying hydrated?

warnings: drinking, violence, inappropriate groping and harassment, bar fights, established relationship with rooster!

"BITCHLESS & DICKLESS' bradley rooster bradshaw x fem!reader

It was a busy Friday night at the Hard Deck, you and Penny the only two working and barely able to keep up with the constant flow of customers coming through, it only seemed to get even more crowded and rowdy when a small group of sailors fresh off the base come through, taking up a couple of the tables near the juke box. They signal you over and you make your towards them, order pad in hand incase they order more than just beer.

"Hey guys, how can i help you?" You ask, your voice upbeat and a smile on your face. It was sticky hot outside and you knew your shirt was clinging to your skin because of it, you tried not to feel too uncomfortable with the obvious way two of the men were staring at you. "Eyes up here, fellas." You say, giving a playful angry look. You were used to being looked at, it kind of came with the job title of bartender, but that didn't mean that it didn't make you uncomfortable.

One of the men cocks a smirk at you, leaning back easily in his seat. "They'll have a round of Budweiser," He says, his eyes not leaving you once as he gestures towards his friends. "and i'll have your number, sweetness."

Before you can open your mouth to object politely, one of his buddies beats you to it. "Hey, Hanks, give some of us a chance with her damn." He chuckles flashing you a smile.

"How about none of you get a chance?" You say sweetly, laughing with his buddies. "I'll be back with the beers in a minute." You shake your head, walking back to the bar. You grab six cold beers from the ice box and start putting them on a serving tray.

"Those boys gonna be trouble?" Penny asks, maneuvering her way behind you with a few drinks of her own. You hadn't realized that she had heard the interaction.

"No, they'll be fine." You shake your head, glancing back over at the table as you pop the tops off of the bottles one by one. The one that had asked for your number, Hanks, was staring at you and talking to the rest of his friends at the same time. His gaze unsettled you, but you carried on with your job anyway. You make your way back over to them, planting your serving smile back on to your face as you start handing out their beers. "Alright fellas, let me know if there's anything else i can get you, okay?"

"That phone number is still wanted, honey." Hanks' friend says, taking a sip from his bottle. He shoots you a wink and manspreads in his chair, you perk an eyebrow at him. What was it with navy boys being so goddamn persistent?

"I'm sure it is honey," You say, your voice a little more stern on the matter this time around. "but my boyfriend sure wouldn't appreciate me giving it out to random navy boys that walk into my bar." You turn to head back towards the actual bar, where you see Penny starting struggle.

"I don't see him around, im sure what he don't know won't kill him!" Hanks voice calls after you, its almost admirable how persistent they are, it was afterall one of the more endearing qualities about your boyfriend when you first met him, although you had to say that he hadn't been nearly as uncomfortable as these boys were.

"Oh he'll be around!" You call back over your shoulder, not noticing that at that moment said boyfriend and his group of friends had walked through the front door of the bar. You didn't notice them for quite a few minuets, giving them plenty of time to get to their usual seats as you worked on the fresh wave of customers at the bar, mixing drinks and handing them out almost mechanically.

After around twenty minutes or so Bradley comes up to the bar, standing directly behind you, your back turned as you pour beer from the tap. "Here you g-Bradley!" You exclaim excitedly, nearly spilling the beer in your hands before you hand it to the man standing next to him.

"Hey baby," He says, his voice gruff and hoars, tired. He gladly accepts your kiss as you lean across the bar for it, pressing his lips against your own. He was still wearing his flight suit, and still covered in sweat, and a quick glance towards the others told you everything y ou needed to know.

"Rough day?" You look at him, eyes questioning as you get to work making their drinks. Whiskey neat for Jake, Scotch on the rocks for Bradley and Natasha and a pop for Bob, your favorite sober companion most evenings.

"You could say that," He says, a deep sigh leaving his chest as he watches you, already feeling more at ease. You didnt pry any farther, knowing he would tell you all about it in bed that night. "When are you off?"

You pout, coming around the bar with the drinks on a serving tray. "Not until nearly closing tonight," You say, walking with him towards the others. Bradley studiously takes the tray from you, ever the gentleman even on his roughest days, his arm brushing your shoulder as you walk. "Hey guys," You greet, giving Jake and Bob your usual friendly kiss on the cheek, and with a giggle you give one to Nat too when she taps hers and gives you a lopsided grin. You could tell by looks on their faces that they all needed a dose of happiness.

"Where's mine?" Bradley whines, hand on your hip possessively. You roll your eyes at him but lean up to kiss his waiting cheek anyway, adoring the small smile that tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Awe come on Rooster, you get her all the time, let the rest of us have some." Natasha says, causing you to throw your head back in a laugh, leaning farther into your boyfriend. Your laugh was infectious and the whole group lets out a chuckle, you watch their bodies relax afterwards. "Might want to keep em coming, Y/N , it's been a rough one.."

Jake looks somewhere behind you, eyebrows pinched, stare hard. "Looks like you're in need, Y/N" He says, raising his whiskey to his lips to take a sip.

You look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on the group of sailors from earlier on the other side of the bar. "Those guys again," You sigh, grabbing your tray off the table.

Bob grabs your wrist before you go, and you furrow your brow at him. "Are those guys giving you a hard time?" He asks quietly, he knew Bradley was already on edge as it was and didn't want him looking for a fight.

"Nothing i can't handle, Bobby," You say, ruffling his hair with a wink before heading off towards the group, putting some pep back in your step. "Ready for round two already, fellas?"

The night drags on quickly and slowly all at the same time, customers come and go, drinks are made and made again and carried out to tables. The two main groups being your Boyfriend and the rest of the daggers and the group of boat boys who become more rowdy as the night drags on.

Bradley is already uneasy with them as it is, catching them staring at you one too many times and asking for your number more than once, to which you studiously turn them down, looking his way as if asking for help. He knew he would step in when needed, but he also hoped that didn't need to happen, he knew Penny would talk to Mav and Mav would talk his ear off about it tomorrow on base.

Your patience had more than worn thin, and you were counting down the minuets until your shift was over, hoping that the last half an hour would pass without any issues. Your hopes were wrong though.

You were bringing the group of boat boys another round of beers and a couple of waters and were just picking up the empties and placing them on your tray when you feel it, a large, sweaty hand sliding up the back of your thigh and right up onto your ass, giving it a heavy squeeze. Your eyes widen. "You wanna lose that fucking hand?" You ask, voice gruff as you stand up straight. The entire table quiets.

"What? Fly girl over there is good enough to squeeze this thick ass but i'm not?" Natasha had playfully smacked your ass on her way to the restroom a short time ago, something the two of you had grown close enough as friends to do. It had made you laugh, but this? Oh this was an entirely different ball game.

You see red, and off in the distance you hear Bradley and Jake both yell and the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor as they all get up abruptly. Youve done it before they can even reach you though. The tray drops from your grasp, your dominant hand balling up as the sound of shattering glass reaches your ears and your fist collides with Hanks' face, right between the eyes. You feel a sickening crunch under the force of the blow and blood spurts out of his nostrils as he slumps down, you had hit him hard enough to knock him out.

"What the fuck?!?" Bradley is next to you, arm out protectively as his friends all stand from their seats, ready to brawl over what you had done, even though their pig of a friend had done worse in your opinion. "Y/N?"

"Bitchless and Dickless over there can't catch a fucking hint!" You yell lunging for his friend. Rooster's arms hold you back though before you can make contact with him, the entire bar watches you scream and kick at the sailor as your boyfriend drags you out towards the parking lot. "Fucking assholes! Squeezed my fucking ass!"

Surprisingly, Bob is the first to throw a punch. He had been watching the idiots mess with you all night long along with Rooster. And after their long ass day he was just as ready to fight as the rest of them, infact, he actually took pleasure in what he did. His fist collides squarely with Hanks' friend and Natasha drags the already semi conscious asshole across the floor after you and Bradley, Penny coming to help her.

"Jesus christ baby, you started a fucking brawl!" Bradley laughs, opening the passenger door of the bronco, shoving all of his stuff onto the floorboard as he sets you up on the seat. "That was so fucking hot," He says, hearing police sirens in the distance already. "You have no idea how bad i want to fuck you right now but i can't have you going to jail tonight, buckle in tight baby.." He says, closing your door before running around to the drivers side, the only the thought on his mind is getting you home where you're safe and in your guys' bed, preferably underneath of him.

[the-modern-typewriter]

have I told you guys I'm trying my hand at writing a horror novel? Fey and aceness!

Wolverton House loomed out of the darkness more suddenly than such a large building should have been able to. It made Diana think of ghosts. It made her think of titanic icebergs. It made her think of an angler fish, mouth gaping bright and welcoming in the roiling blackness of the water.

Inevitably, of course, it made her think of Lucille.

The taxi jerked to a stop by the imposing front gates. Motion sensor lights flooded to life, illuminating the slender stone driveway snaking up to the manor proper. Diana squinted, raising a hand to shield her eyes.

“…you getting out here?” the driver asked. “Or do you want me to take you all of the way up.”

He sounded hopeful. It was difficult to tell if it was to get closer to the manor or to get the hell away from it. She swallowed, but it did nothing to stop the sudden dryness of her mouth. She wasn’t entirely sure which one she wanted either. But then, home was often like that, wasn’t it?

The gates slid open. An invitation.

The driver’s fingers white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’ll walk. Bit of fresh air and all that. Stretch my legs.”

His shoulders sagged in relief even as disappointment flickered across his face. He got out at the same time as she did, busying himself with hoisting her battered suitcase out onto the side of the road. He opened his mouth as if to say something, before he closed it again. His attention was inevitably drawn back to the house. Its stark white walls. Its invitingly lit windows. Its gardens, all pale roses picked out in the lush night. It hadn’t changed a bit.

“You know them?” Diana kept her voice light. “The Wolvertons?”

“Sure. I mean, everyone does round here.”

“You’ve met the fiancé?”

“Handsome fella.” He shook his head, as if to clear it, glancing at her again. Curiosity and terror. “You look after yourself up there.”

“And her?” Diana’s heart flipped. “Does she still come down to the town?”

His lips thinned. “That’s £112.”

She considered pressing him further, maybe telling him that actually she did want that lift up all the way to the front door, but then she simply paid. The fare receipt pinged on her phone before he’d even fully disappeared down the path.

Lucille would have made him drive all the way. She would have made him wait while she rang the doorbell, “just in case no one’s in!” She would have watched him squirm.

Still, Diana’s legs were cramped from the long hours of travel, so maybe it couldbe a relief to clack her way up the driveway. At the very least, it gave her a little more time before she had to ring the doorbell. Meet him. See her. Diana took a few steadying breaths, wrangled her luggage and began her ascent. She’d only a taken a few steps up the driveway path when the gates shut behind her again with a muffled clang.

Handsome fella. She’d seen pictures of Tristan De Silva, Lucille’s soon-to-be-husband, online. He was definitely handsome, it was true, but not in the way that Lucille usually liked. He was too sharp. Too much like her, in some way, so that surely if they were ever in a room together they’d spend the whole time in danger of bashing up against each other’s edges. They did look smitten in the photos though, and the wedding invitation certainly suggested something, but…

Surely she wouldn’t invite Diana, of all people, to be her maid of honour if she was in love with someone else?

Of course she bloody would. And of course Diana bloody came. She was an idiot.

All too soon, she rang the doorbell. As she waited, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and then untucked it again a moment later to let it curl loose and coppery over her forehead. Then she realised that her hands were shaking and shoved them in the pockets of her leather jacket.

The door swung open. The man behind it was the pictures made incarnate, dressed in the sort of casually-expensive trousers and t-shirt that Diana would never find in her own closet. Was that why Lucille had picked him?

“Ah, Diana.” He offered a perfect smile. “It is Diana, right? Lucille’s Diana?”

The words were like a beloved coat that no longer fit properly. Too tight around the shoulders. A squeeze of buttons clamping airless down upon her chest. Lucille’s Diana. She hadn’t been that in years. She hadn’t ever stopped being that for a moment.

“Just Diana,” she said. “You must be Tristan.”

Tristan tipped his head a fraction, a mocking sort of bow, and stepped aside to let her in.

“Where’s Lucille?” she asked.

“Upstairs.” He held out a hand for her jacket. “She’ll come down when she’s ready. You know she likes to make an entrance.”

Her jacket felt like the only pitiful armour she had, but Diana politely handed it over all the same. He hung it up and shut the door.

“Just leave your bag in the hallway,” he said, already turning towards the familiar kitchen as if he owned the place. “I’ll take it up to your room later. Champagne?”

“I – no, thank you. I don’t drink.”

He scoffed. “Yes you do. Since when?”

She stared at him.

“Well,” he said. “I’m having champagne.” As she followed him into the kitchen, he fished a bottle out of the fridge, popped it and poured it golden and frothing into three different flutes. He took one and held the other out to her.

Her jaw tightened a fraction.

“I’m engaged,” he said. “So we’re going to toast and you’re going to say congratulations.”

His hazel eyes bore into her, almost seeming to match the drink.

She took the glass, cold against her clammy palm, and held it up.

“Congratulations,” she said.

No, he was nothing like Lucille’s usual type, which begged the question, then – how much did he really know his fiancée at all?

The first thing that she remembered ever really noticing about Lucille Wolverton was that everybody loved her. It was an effect she had on people. When they were really young it hadn’t occurred to Diana to question it. Lucille was her friend and, of course, Lucille’s parents loved her. That was what good parents were supposed to do.

When she got older, she’d thought maybe it was because Lucille was pretty and people seemed to care an awful lot about that sort of thing. Some people simply had a star quality that drew people to them and, even as a child, it had been clear that Lucille did. When she smiled and laughed and relished in the attention of everyone who adored her, she possessed a warm sort of beauty. She was honey and gold, she was the fairy lights that turned an ordinary space into a super-secret lair, she was the candlelight flickering across a dinner table as two lovers leaned in for their first kiss. When she was angry, she was a colder thing. The moon in winter, glittering across an endless plane of unforgiving snow. A glass girl, seemingly fragile, poised to cut.

When she got older still, Diana was no longer sure if it could be just looks, just charm. She’d never quite figured it out though. All things considered she hadn’t been sure she wanted to.

She took a tiny sip of her drink, feeling Tristan’s eyes on her as he matched her movements. She had the strangest surety that if she drained the glass then he would simply do the same. Weirdly triumphant.

She set the flute firmly down on the counter and cleared her throat.

“So, how did you two meet?”

Music drifted down the stairs, too quiet to be entirely picked out. She could imagine Lucille flitting about her bedroom. It was impossible to hear her so far away, and yet Diana half felt that she could trace Lucille’s every step across the manor’s floors.

“At a party,” Tristan said. “She got the host to kiss her in front of his girlfriend. Wrecked their relationship. It was awful.” He smiled a strange smile. “I asked her out the same night.”

“Oh, naturally.”

His smile turned a touch edged. “I note you didn’t bring a plus one.”

Diana didn’t say anything.

“The invite did say you could bring someone.”

“I’m not seeing anybody at the moment.” Diana moved to circle the space, putting the kitchen island between her and the champagne as she scanned over the glossy cookbooks and paintings. The cookbooks were new. The paintings were the same visions of women stuffing their faces with dripping fruit, raw meat or chocolate cake as she’d seen since she was as a girl. They’d thrilled her then. Felt somehow taboo. “Does she do that sort of thing often, then? Wreck people’s relationships?”

“Shouldn’t you know?”

Diana shrugged, betrayed by her hammering heart.

“Mm. You’ll be staying in your old room, I believe.” He leaned himself almost lazily against the island and took another long sip of his drink, body angled towards her.

“Lucille’s told you a lot about me?”

“I’m nosy.” He flashed that perfect smile again. “She said the two of you grew up here, that you were like sisters. She said there was no one else she’d want at our wedding as much as you.”

Diana’s throat thickened.

“I suspect she left out all of the juicy bits,” he said.

She glanced over at him.

“Singular woman, Lucille Wolverton.” He raised his eyebrows. “But I’m sure if you told me, she’d have to kill you.”

“Or you.”

“Alas, they always suspect the spouse. She’s not that obvious.”

Despite herself, Diana laughed. It was something like a laugh anyway.

“It’s nothing juicy,” she said. “My parents worked here. We lived in the old servant’s cottage on the edge of the property when I was a kid, and this place is way out in the middle of nowhere. We had a lot of sleepovers.”

“So many that you had your own room. Do girls often have their own room during sleepovers?”

“It’s just one of the guest bedrooms. There’s enough of them, isn’t there?”

Her bedroom was the bedroom next to Lucille’s room, mirrored and sharing a wall.

Tristan hummed, seeming unconvinced as he studied her. She watched him in her periphery in turn, taking out one of the cookbooks and flicking through the pages. How to eat a peach.  

“So what is it you do?” she asked.

“Finance. You’re a caterer. What was she like when you knew her?”

The cookbook was thoroughly abandoned. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Diana said, “but I believe in small talk you’re supposed to at least pretend that you don’t know things about me when we first meet.”

“Stickler for politeness, are we?”

“You have to ask?” She pretended to gasp. “And there was me thinking you knew everything about me already.”

“Not everything. But I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Not especially. But I guess I was raised to be more polite to my guests than you.”

He laughed like that was funny, shaking his head, and raised his glass again in another private toast of some sort.

No, he was not Lucille’s type at all. Lucille’s type were soft and starry-eyed, utterly enamoured and easily bruised. He was…not that. She had no idea what the hell he was. A jerk, perhaps?

They eyed each other.

“So you met a party.” Diana tried again, with the friendly smile she reserved for only the most trying of customers. “That was…what? A little over a year ago? I can’t imagine she’s changed that much since I last saw her. I mean. You’re the one marrying her. Shouldn’t you know?”

Tristan shrugged in turn; a lighter, more effortless parry. “You’ve known her longer. You last saw her…what?” He mimicked her tone. “A little over three years ago?”

“Yeah.”

He seemed to consider her for a moment.

“I could probably still call your taxi back,” he said. “It’s not too late.”

Diana narrowed her eyes, spine stiffening.

“Too late for what exactly?”

Footsteps sounded on the hallway, light and graceful, shattering the moment. Tristan went quiet.

They both turned inexorably towards the kitchen door and then – there she was. Lucille Wolverton. Barefoot. Leaned against the door as if she had been there all along. In her wedding dress. “Hey stranger,” Lucille said. “Long time no see.”

[llamagoddessofficial]

May we please have more crumbs of farmtale sans?

I wanna follow the trail to the source 👀

I'm SO glad that everyone seems to like farmer Sans as much as I do. It warms my heart to see people appreciating the bumpkin.

Here's more romantic-leaning headcanons.

Though his giving love languages are gifts and acts of service, his receiving love languages are very different. He likes doing stuff for his loved ones but he's incredibly awkward when you do stuff for him; he appreciates it, of course, but he won't know how to react.

He prefers receiving quality time, and touch.

Offer to accompany him on one of the many long car rides that come with living in the country. You can listen to music together on the shoddy radio. Do the early morning farm rounds with him! You don't even have to help- he might actively stop you from helping, bundling you in his coat because he's worried about you getting too cold or tiring yourself out. He'll see you nodding off while standing (it's 5am) and he'll scoop you up so you can sleep against his shoulder. He only needs one hand to do his chores anyway.

What matters to him is you're there.

Alternatively, give him casual gentle touch. It drives him wild. Put your hand on his arm when you laugh at his jokes, bump him when he's being teasing, nudge his knee with yours. Lean on him for any reason. He's good at masking how flustered he is in the moment but later, he'll be hiding his face in his pillow while recalling it.

A gentle touch on his cheekbone will have him flustered for days.

He's unintentionally a great flirt. He has a very soothing voice, and if he speaks softly enough completely normal polite sentences sound incredibly hot. He'll wink and say "i'm likin' the new hair, dolly. s'real cute." and you'll be reeling.

During winter, you'll pretty much never be alone. Either you're at his and Papyrus' place, or they're at yours. They're worried about you feeling lonely.

He tells his plants all about you. He's even named his favourite flowers after you. He'll take that secret to his grave.

It's not just Papyrus who's vying for you and Sans to end up together. It's pretty much the whole monster community. Sans, the quiet fella who's never enthusiastic about anything at all, is head over heels for the new human in town? A good love story is ALL the rage somewhere nothing ever happens. You've got an entire community desperate to hear wedding bells.

Sans is completely unaware of the fact that you might think he's hot while working. You see a confident, strong, sexy skeleton with his sleeves rolled up over his big arms. Meanwhile the second he notices you're approaching, he's sniffing his shirt because he's self conscious of how intensely he smells of cows and sweat.

Having just said he doesn't do great with receiving gifts... if you cook something for him he'll love you forever.

He's prone to jealousy. It doesn't show, but he'll pout if he feels like someone is stealing your attention. Time is a valuable currency in the countryside and he doesn't like when someone steals yours from him.

[stevesjockstrap]

@stcreators event 01: favorite

Ahoy Captain

“Jesus H. Christ.” Eddie stopped walking so sharply that Gareth ran into his back. He did a double take and his jaw was on the floor.

“What the fu-“ But Gareth followed his gaze and his jaw also dropped. “Is that?”

Jeff came to stand next to them, eyebrows raised. “…Steve Harrington in a sailor outfit?”

“That’s the Steve Harrington you won’t shut up about?” Drew said, especially loud in the crowded mall.

“Shut up!” He turned to hiss at him before rounding back to stare across the hall. “Did I die and go to heaven? Pinch me.” He pulled the sleeve of his leather jacket up and offered his arm to Gareth. He pinched his forearm roughly, without looking down. All of their eyes were locked on the figure in the brightly colored ice cream shop, now coming around the counter to crouch down to hand a cone to a small child. Doing so making the tiny shorts ride up his thighs, but Eddie’s eyes were suddenly drawn to where his v-neck hung open, getting a glimpse of chest hair.

“Buh,” he turned to Gareth to announce.

“Yo, we have to go in there. This is like once in a lifetime shit.”

Eddie adamantly shook his head and started backing away but Gareth and the guys shared a look before suddenly grabbing him under the arms to escort him awkwardly through the mall thoroughfare.

“Oh no. Oh no.” He chanted under his breath.

Back behind the counter now, Steve greeted them as they bodily pushed him into the store. “Welcome, fellas! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain!”

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathed. It’s so much worse, being this close. Steve’s eyes shine under the terrible fluorescent lighting and he can see the muscles in his arms flex as he leans onto the counter.

“If you need any help let me know. The flavor of the week is triple decker extravaganza!”

Eddie’s brain had stopped working. His arms were dropped as his friends went further up to the counter to look at the ice cream options. He continued staring stupidly at Steve as he leaned a hip against the back counter.

“You guys check out the new record store yet?” Steve Harrington was actually making decent conversation with them. What universe did he teleport to this morning?

“No, not yet,” Gareth answered. “That’s where we were heading actually, when uh-“ he awkwardly turned around to make eye contact with Eddie, still a few feet behind them and drawing Steve’s attention over to him.

“You don’t want anything?” Steve asked him. Oh he wanted something. Wanted to drop to his knees in front of him. Or the other way around. He wouldn’t mind either way. He would’ve done anything to have Steve’s undivided attention on him and now that he had it he was blanking on English. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. He finally forced his body forward, tearing his eyes away from Steve to send a panicked look at Gareth. He just smirked, the absolute asshole.

Steve frowned at him and he wanted to melt into the floor. “If you’re not a fan of ice cream we have cookies, too.”

Steve being so sweet to him finally rattled some brain cells loose. “Oh, um, no, that’s-“

Jeff chuckled from the other side of Gareth. “Eddie here loves ice cream. That’s why we had to stop in. Isn’t that right, guys?” The rest of his band laughed obnoxiously and nodded. Steve looked at all of them confused, but still with an easy smile when he turned back to Eddie.

“What’s your favorite?”

“Um, huh?” Eddie blinked at him. He watched as Steve pulled his bottom lip in to bite it, probably trying to figure out what was happening with him and the guys. Eddie’s gut clenched. He hoped he didn’t think he was doing anything wrong or they were making fun of him.

“Your favorite ice cream? We can talk about any of your other favorites after we get that out of the way,” he grinned at him and Eddie had to grab the counter in front of him when his knees threatened to give out.

“Rocky road?”

“Perfect. Coming right up! Cup or cone? Or waffle bowl? It’s like a big cone in a cup?”

“Cone please?”

Once he wasn’t under the heavy gaze of gorgeous brown eyes, he turned to his friends for help. But Drew just snickered at him and Jeff sent him a thumbs up. Dicks.

Steve handed him his cone and their fingers brushed. He dumped all the change he had into the tip jar and Steve fucking winked at him. The guys ordered their ice creams suspiciously easily, but Steve kept coming back to Eddie’s side of the counter. He tried hard not to hold eye contact with him as he licked across his ice cream.

“So was it worth it?”

“Wh-what?” He stammered.

“Coming in, for the ice cream?”

“Definitely. The ice cream is… great.” He looked around and realized his friends had gone to sit in the furthest booth by the door. Steve had only been sweet and amazing to him and he couldn’t leave without at least having a somewhat competent conversation. “But I- I really came in to see you.”

“Me?” Steve leaned further across the counter towards him. He turned those big brown eyes up at him and Eddie wasn’t sure if he could get any other words out.

“Couldn’t walk away from you in this getup.” His hand moved on his own accord to reach out and tug on the red tie in the middle of his chest.

“Oh,” he huffed. “Yeah. I wish I would’ve known before I agreed to work here. Not that I had any better offers.”

Eddie’s fingers itched to run along the blush that appeared across his cheeks.

“No, no, it’s- I mean, I like it.” He winced as it came out, but his eyes shot open when Steve chuckled. “Really. I really like it.” He cleared his throat because that couldn’t have been his voice. It was deep and gravely and sounded way too fucking hot to have come out of his mouth.

Steve’s wide eyes tracked his tongue as it came out to wet his lips. Fuck.

“Oh.”

Eddie leaned a bit closer, drawing on this unknown confidence that came from Steve Harrington hanging on his every word. “So what time do you get off, Captain?”

xx

This was a benedryl-fueled thought but Scoops!uniform Steve was the only thing my brain wanted to give me for “favorite.”

@lighthousebeams

[onyourhyuck]

Animal Instinct. | NCT SERIES

Title: CHAPTER 1 ‘The Untamed.’

— Prologue: “When the sun sets meet me at my apartment, if you dare.”

— Summary: You are a marine biologist. You should be able to understand animals and their way of living. When you encounter a new society in a bar under the name ‘Sour Grapes’ you find yourself in a troubling situation with seven different men. Seven different animals.

— Genre: Smut with plot. Minors dni. Fantasy with modern timeline. Female!reader. Secondary genders (but with animals) dreamies are complete red flags. Dub-con. Everything is very dark romance related. Nothing here is for the weak. Everything is just pure filth. It gets progressively worse and worse. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Pet names such as ‘my pretty whore’ or ‘princess’ — minor hair pulling, Fingering (female receiving). Creampie, cumming inside / no protection please use a condom.

— Notes: I APOLOGISE FOR TAKING SO LONG. BUT HERE IT IS. MORE FREQUENT UPDATES COMING UP.

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One thing you love about yourself is that your work basically shapes your entire routine. You love walking inside your laboratory seeing the animals in the tanks you have to take care of and examine. This included various important research that no one should know. It is highly top secret. A simple leak of what you collect samples from the sea or other animal biology from biomes and journals you keep could really be a mess for you.

Working on separating the two and three sides of the samples you have listed from the deep oceans all throughout different sights. You felt a hand approaching behind you quickly.

The man taps your shoulders when you’re so busy working with the test tubes. “Hey Y/n mind giving me—” you jump and turn around with a fright.

“Seriously Johnny! I told you not to sneak up on me like this. Especially when I’m working with these highly reactive test tubes.” You scowled at your coworker, Johnny Suh. He was one of your friends and coworkers. Wearing a white cloak and round black glasses on.

He was a handsome fella. Very charming and handsome you have to admit it. Johnny can be professional but he could also be quite a mood maker in such a serious profession.

Laughing at your unusual behaviour, you’re never this jumpy when you are working but he probably assumes he scared you to death. “What got you so anxious Y/n? You never get scared when i do this.” Johnny raised an eyebrow. He swore he could see your own soul leave your body.

Truth be honest ever since that night with Ningning all you are thinking about how your entire life has been a lie. Sour Grape’s has taken your mind over. No. Mark has taken your entire mind off and away from your daily routines. Everyday you’re thinking about ‘How can this be possible?’ Humans coming from other animals and not just monkeys. It’s insane information. You shouldn’t be believing this but when Jaehyun said it’s a secret; it makes you think there must be some truth to it.

No one on earth would make up such a stupid fairytale on the spot.

If you weren’t a marine biologist with side degrees of zoology you’re just the type of person to not let this slide. You want to learn more.

You want to experience the truth. You want to see if it’s the truth if they actually are who they are setting themselves to be.

Letting out soft mumbles as you close off the testing tubes, afterwards putting the collective tubes in the stirring device. “I haven’t slept well for the past few days. Sorry if i seem like I’m on the edge.”

He gave you a soft smirk leaning on the side of the table while watching you. “Oh honey you seem like you’re more than on the edge. You’re off the edge.” Your eyes make eye contact after you were done with your tasks.

Your friend trails now questioning you as you’re looking at him with a soft look that made your thoughts even worse.

“What’s on your mind, Y/n?” Johnny asked with a small smile. You shake your head, you don’t want to share something so crazy. He might think you’re actually insane, or worse, he might even think you lost your entire marbles.

“Nothing serious, John. Let’s just finish up and go home. I’m tired.” You excused yourself from the conversation to finish up. The only thing you want to do today is figure out what to eat for dinner.

Walking down the street to your favourite food truck, you decided to take your mind off whatever you were thinking for the past week or so.

You felt like your brain was just constantly going back to the same topic and it was draining truth be honest. What better way to distract yourself than to eat your favourite stir fry noddles?

Being a local customer the food truck owner gives you discounts nowadays because you were a customer for a long time. A regular at that.

“Hey I would like the usual.” You gave a smile at the owner who nodded seemingly being happy to seeing you drop by.

“I was beginning to think you’d never return, Y/n.” Said the truck owner and you gave a little smirk. “How could I not return? You make the best noodles.” Complimenting them they blushed and started making the noodles for you.

But then something flashed behind you at a fast pace. You didn’t even realise it until the figure stood overshadowed by their body remaining still as a statue.

Gawking at the menu on the side. Your eyes widen when you turned around with disbelief flashing over your lips and cheeks.

“Young man what would you like?” The owner interrupts your own lingering thoughts of shock. The voice, the sound of his breathing, everything else made you feel so small and in danger just by the presence alone of this man.

He looks back from the menu. “The original stir fry m’am.”

You did not realise you were literally staring Mark down in this moment until his face turned over to you and you quickly looked away biting your bottom lip, staring at your very own feet on the ground. You can’t believe it that Mark and you crossed paths when all you’ve been saying is how you’re going to distract yourself finally!

What was this coincidence? Fate? Destiny?

There was this expression on his face that falters when he finally acknowledges your existence. It’s like he met you before but he was trying to find out from where.

And then it hits him. You were the one with Jaehyun that one night.

The dark tone of voice strikes you like a knife behind your back if anything. “You’re that girl at the bar that one time.” Mark said to you, turning to look at you fully with his entire body now facing you.

You definitely caught the predator’s attention now with how easy you’re to read. God you hate being so readable like an open book — a very non interesting book at that.

You fake a smile, maybe if you just pretend you don’t know him he will give up speaking to you. “Oh no, I don’t attend bars. I’m… allergic to alcohol.” You cringe deep inside when you made up the most stupid excuse.

Really? Allergy? He didn’t even ask about your allergies.

Mark frowns which lead you to believe he wasn’t completely swayed by your own actions right now. You forget how much of animal instincts he must have by now. You can’t fool a tiger easily.

“You must’ve mixed me up with someone else.” You said quietly trying to make it seem more and more believable if you just keep talking.

Thankfully you were praying for your meal to arrive first beforehand he got his. The prayer was answered when you grab your plastic container smiling and thanking them. You literally dashed away but why try to run away?

Trying to out run one of the most dangerous cats you probably made the worst mistake to even show a hint of speed in your movements.

When you were to reach your destination to your car the same black towering figure stands over you. In front of you with a dark gaze.

You let out a mini gasp to be honest, you feel like your heart is being crushed by two large walls that keep on moving forward and forward until your heart and lungs collapse.

Mark sighs. “You know that I can hear your beating heart when you lie?” He said rather amused but also it was eerily like a reminiscing threat thrown at you. You stand there quivering, trembling even, and it made Mark so much more entertained than he thought he would be.

He took a step forward. The stir fry plastic box was shaking in very discreet manner in your hands. Each step he takes you took three steps backwards.

This was a new cat and mouse game you didn’t want to be playing with him at all.

“Y/n was it? Jaehyun mentioned you.” Mark said with a little more confidence now that he actually had you cornered. Now you cannot lie on the spot and try to run away from him.

It’s ridiculous. He looks and was human but in reality he’s not just entirely human is he? He’s a freaking tiger with probably the most define genetics. It’s crazy to you.

You mumble trying to get away still. There was just this instinct inside you to make excuses until you can’t anymore. “Sorry i have to go, i am extremely busy.”

Your heartbeat picked up again, Mark sighs pressing an arm around your body and now moved you to sit down at a bench in the scene. You flinch and he forced you to sit down in front of him with his dark eyes watching you. “Another lie. You must enjoy lying a lot don’t you?”

You look away. You’re watching anything but him. “What do you want from me? I swear I don’t… I don’t know anything.” You’re trying your best to make this situation just deescalate.

He grinned amused. “Well that’s also a lie.” He said sitting down next to you on the bench as your heart was racing incredibly fast. Mark thought you might die on the spot if you keep stressing yourself out.

You took a little breath when he sat down next to you which seemed a little less nerve wrecking.

Eventually your heart calmed down when the silence overtook you both. Mark makes a quick glance over at you again, and he continues to speak when he waited for your nerves to sort themselves out.

You sigh. “I didn’t know you liked this place.” You tried to make a conversation as well but you weren’t sure how well he will respond to it.

Heck you don’t know this guy at all.

“I like it. I’m a regular here.” Mark said with a smirk and he moves a bit closer to you now, he opens up his plastic box of stir fry and starts to eat it with the plastic fork you’d get at a restaurant or other food trucks.

You saw him eating and you slowly shift to open your stir fry. But to be honest you’re too scared to even eat in front of him. You’re trying to act normal though. So you take a piece and ate slowly your own food along with Mark. The man kept watching you even though he ate. But you’re avoiding to even acknowledge him so much.

“Y/n do i scare you?” He was quite blunt and upfront. You flinched when he mentions the exact words you’re feeling.

You awkwardly chuckle and put down the fork. “Is it that obvious?”

Mark scoffs a bit. “You didn’t try to hide it.” He leans away and ate some more, you felt a bit less scared and now more guilty. Now that you think about it he seems like a normal guy now.

“Sorry. What Jaehyun said to me that night at the bar messed with my brain.” You admit it, which made the man next to you smirk. “You know I’m human as well. But I do admit it was fun seeing you trembling.” There was a sense of eeriness in his words but at the same time you were watching him.

He admitted to you that watching you embarrass yourself in front of him was a thrilling show but you decided to just not respond to it.

You didn’t even know what to say back anyways.

“So… are you actually…” your voice trails off unable to think of how to say this. How do you even phrase this?

Mark saw your expression like it was the most readable thing he has ever laid eyes on. He leans forward putting the plastic box down. “Part Tiger?” He spoke those words right out of your throat. You bite your inner cheek nodding.

“Is it true?” You asked with your eyes widen.

He grinned and stands up, putting hands in the front jean pockets he then turns around to you rather amused by your curiosity.

Has no one ever told you that curiosity killed the cat? You’re like a small, tiny cat who can’t keep their nose out of something that wasn’t their business.

It felt rather authentic for you though. Most people are just nosey but you seem to be curious because you want to discover something new.

And that is exactly what Mark likes about you. Your intentions are something he hasn’t seen before. Leaning forward he writes something on the paper and passed it to you, with the same hand you saw the large metal ring with the tiger engraved on it. Grabbing the piece of paper you look cautiously from the paper towards Mark’s dark gaze.

“When the sun sets meet me at my apartment, if you dare.” He said to you simply.

Just like a tiger he caught you by surprise with how sharp his tone of voice was full of silky seriousness. And then he disappeared into thin air as well. You only looked away for a second just for Mark to be gone in front of you.

Leaving you questioning if you should take the bait and go to his apartment even though that sounds like some kind of messed up plan.

For once you were dreading the sun setting. Getting out of your car you look back at the paper in your hand and then your eyes fall back on the complex building in the front.

The address that brought you to this place makes you both anxious and excited. You have many running thoughts on your journey going inside. Every single muscle contraction meant you were growing close and closer to danger.

Slipping your hand over the doorknob you didn’t even knock, the door opened up with the man revealing in front of you.

Mark heard you from a mile away. He knew you’d come and he was right when you stood in front of him with a stunned look.

You really do make him feel like he’s hunting you down.

“Come on in Y/n, I don’t bite.” Mark smirked seeing your hesitation as your eyes peek inside the apartment before your whole body walks in. Mark closed the door after you fully enter.

There was a lack of trust between you two but for some you are wanting to trust this man. You don’t know why but you know one thing for sure; he has bland furniture. All neutral colours and very modern in his apartment.

You tread carefully and put your purse bag down on the couch nearby as you stand in middle of his apartment. Your gaze follows where Mark was on the wall leaning one side of his shoulders on it, the muscular arms crossed together and the lower body curved towards the right side.

Breathing hitching you feel it becoming a round ball in your throat. “So Mark will you admit that what I know is true?”

You came for the truth only. But to Mark he wanted more from you than just to give you a simple truth. He wanted to take a taste of something much better than any truth could provide him or to you.

The body slips off the wall approaching you slowly while his gaze was rather intense and playful while watching you.

“I don’t think I can prove anything verbally to you.” Mark whispers gaining a closer look at your face and the natural scent of your body blending in with the morning coffee you drank as well as your floral perfume; creating this intoxicating sensation in the nasal passages. Mark could crawl to you just by the smell of your own skin.

Hands slowly moving to your waist pulling you closer by an inch your feet trotting forward in little steps towards his body. “But I can show you how a tiger has it’s fun?” He smirks brushing the hot breath escaping from his mouth down to your neckline, while his large eyes are watching you keenly to see your reaction for approval.

Goosebumps evoked on your skin when the tiniest touch of his fingers kneading on your waist bringing you closer to him made you fall into this trance; a trap in other words you’re not escaping a primal animal’s desire at all.

He lifts his head only a little, waiting for your lips to give him consent or a sign of any sorts. But you seemed to stunned and even timid.

The reasoning of you coming to his apartment wasn’t to sleep with him. But the idea of sleeping with someone as magnetic and attractive as him clouds your judgemental. You’re a smart woman you know that and even Mark knows it; you know your stuff. But you certainly look tempted by the invitation.

The only thing you could think about was how badly you want to kiss his lips in that moment. Swiftly you press your hands up to his jawline and pull him in with a sudden kiss when your decision was made finally. Your sudden lips and the taste of them lingering in the air stunned the tiger but you soon felt his hands clawing at your hips lifting you up with his arm muscles — bringing forward your body against a nearby wall as your mouths clashed like two boulders in action. Fighting for something you would like to say is survival; survival of the fittest.

Grunting at the smallest thing, Mark enjoyed hearing them a lot, even the clawing he did down your back and to cup your round ass made you grind up against his body in a friction. Your reactions were what made Mark’s instincts going up the roof. The inner animal was raging from just how much you do this to him. You look ethereal and vulnerable.

Your tongues are tied like a knot together constantly trying to go back and forth only to end up pushing and pulsing instead. Your hair was a mess from just the heated makeout with the man who did not show you a signal mercy.

Running your hands through his hair was probably the most difficult thing for him. Mark’s sensitive area was always his hair and head in general.

You wonder if it’s because tigers in general have sensitive ears; in fact all cats have that trait. It just made your mind run free whenever your fingers cross over his hair. He always lets out soft noises between the heavy parting kisses with your red feverous mouth.

Deciding that the wall won’t be enough for him or for you in that matter. Mark lifted you again this time turning only a small swift left to the bedroom the door opens enough to keep you in and throw you on top of his bed. Watching your body sink on the mattress wasn’t as satisfying as your arms pulling him on top with your lips connecting again for another passionate kiss.

Your voice sounds like music to his ears, Mark could never get tired of hearing your own heart racing and pounding against your chest either. It might be his favourite sound afterall this time.

“Fuck — Mark, hold on.” You adjust yourself on the bed when his hands slipped over your shirt unbuttoned it down along with your lowering clothing slipping it to your ankles. Mark did not know a single vocabulary word about slowing down. He was an animal. Animals don’t wait they just do whatever they want. Whenever it suits them. Your words were pointless to Mark.

He gave you a look when your hands press on his biceps. You needed a moment to calm your heart otherwise you would feel like this whole moment will not be savoured enough.

Leaning in he gave you a gentle peck instead on your lips. Mark tried to slow down to your liking. Holding himself back was hard when you look like this in your underwear and bra only. With your skin on skin contact too.

“Please.” You whisper. “You really don’t hold back.” You chuckled a little bit. Mark grinned softly at your reaction.

Humming he slowly took off his shirt. “Didn’t Jaehyun already tell you?” He sighs and your gaze looks up at Mark when he mentioned another name. “I don’t settle down for anyone.” Mark mumbles connecting back to your close body again when the shirt fell down on the bedroom floor.

He doesn’t settle for anyone so there is no reason for Mark to slow down for anyone. Mark goes fast for everyone and everything.

Your eyes are glued together as one. Your heart skips a beat when Mark was simply staring at you but it felt like he was chasing you across the jungle if anything.

Seeing your stare he had a feeling you might be thinking about your second options. Mark pressed forward to you.

“You still have the option to leave sweetheart, because I won’t give you this choice afterwards anymore.” He slants his fingers down your forearms and your eyes lift up staring into his own deadly irises.

You breathily sigh. “No I don’t want to leave.” You tell him with a determined look and you press your lips on the side of his neck kissing down to his defined collarbones.

Mark chuckled at your amusing response. You don’t want to run away yet you’re the one who told him to slow down?

“Alright. Don’t blame me for what’s about to happen next.” Mark’s voice was dark and low, everything that had been attracting you to him all along. You couldn’t wait until Mark kissed you again, you’re craving for more and more.

You don’t even know what you’re craving; is it the dangerous thrill? Or is it the fact that there was this biological element that keeps your hormones growing more complex.

Whatever it was your thoughts shatter down like a glass on the ground shredded to pieces creating a map of what you’d call your scattering thoughts. The heat forming underneath the pawing motions of the hands threading your body like a needle, grabbing your perky breasts. Hearing out your grasps and manhandling you into the mattress to a position of what his desires are. You’re nothing more than a rag doll. In this scenario you didn’t know what else to think. You were caving for more.

Escaping grasps when the rough grain fingers rub down to your revealing womanhood. His yellow-ish sharp eyes glow by the excessive amount of excitement. Your insides were much mild to his fingers. But they manage to heat your insides up so much faster. When he pumps them up and down your eyes were trying to squeeze shut.

Mark didn’t want to look away from your precious eyes when he was pumping his fingers inside your pussy walls. He wanted to watch you cry out. To him if you weren’t shouting to the top of your lungs then he did not do a good job. And Mark values his ego and pride of pleasuring women he takes to bed. You need to have a good time, your pleasure means so much more than his own.

And that’s the type of man Mark is. He focuses on you as much as he can. There was a sense of addiction towards you. Mark loved smelling your increasing scent on his bedsheets that you’re sprawled across looking like a desperate prey begging for mercy, but deep down you want so much more. With those aching teary eyes Mark knew you were close to a climax.

But did his hands stop? No. Mark didn’t care if you’re close to cumming. Mark will make you cum thrice if he wants too.

By the next few minutes you’re not sure what’s happened but your mind was fogging out between the lines. The bed sheets were leaking by your juices and Mark’s hand and your pussy were only an inch away from one another. His fingers were so deeply embedded inside of you it’s causing your voice to come out like a strain meld.

“Oh fuck… fuck… Mark I think I came already.” You said the obvious not knowing that was his intention all along. To make you release so much you’re starting to lose train of consciousness.

The tiger smirks fondly by your answer. Mark stretching your pussy out so much just so you can be able to fit him later on.

Pulling out his fingers out of your hole he licks them across his plum lips while gaze on your eyes. There was not much space between you two; your breathes are touching.

“You taste so sweet, Y/n.” Mark deems it. Pulling apart the boxers fell on the bedroom floor and he pulled your ankles down so your legs are spread round the hips.

You’re gawking at the sight of his thick glory shown towards your face. You’re not sure what else to say because your expression said it all.

Mark sultry chuckles watching you was seriously amusing. You don’t try to hide your expression with your widen little eyes. “What is it? Did i leave you speechless already?”

Though it sounds cocky. Which it probably was. Mark had a good reasoning to sound like a complete womanising douche.

He was thick. Thicker than anything you’ve seen before. You’re unsure what to say but you cannot argue with him either. He did leave you speechless. It was embarrassing for you.

Mark took your token of silence so he leans his face closer to give you a peck on your lips. He whispers down to your shoulders aligning his face with it. In a way this was to comfort you.

“Don’t worry Y/n. We aren’t finished just yet.” Breathily into your skin Mark buried the nose on the collarbone as the shape of Mark enters your pussy walls this time it was stretched with a slight burning angle that caused your whole body to tremble by itself. Holding on to the bedsheets underneath your body you feel like you’re floating by how just the tip touching at your velvety skin you’re reacting so much to it. This wasn’t usual. You’ve not experienced something like that before.

It’s nothing like the previous times you’ve slept with a guy before. It’s nothing like that.

In this case it feels like you’re fighting for your life but at the same time you’re submitting to yourself knowing Mark was the powerful one here. The one in charge of the moment. The variable that will never change is Mark. In a sick twisted way you like this. You like becoming the prey. The way you’re underneath Mark as he is thrusting you like a wild in-domestic beast, it’s what you’ve been craving all this time. The thrill of it.

For once you’ve forgotten all about biology. You’ve became it instead. Maybe you’re starting to finally understand how it feels to be stepped on by someone stronger than you. For once in your life that is.

Mark couldn’t get enough of you however. It’s the way your dark hair is floating like strands of ribbons on his bed sheets that smell of you now. He knew that once you are finished it is mostly likely to return to normal life. You’ll probably never hear from him. Or he might never hear from you on that matter — but those bed sheets will have your lingering smell and he doesn’t think he will change them for a while. You’re addictive. Strangely Mark has never been this compatible before with just anyone.

It’s crazy how a simple “come to my apartment” leads to you actually having sex later on. But you didn’t care how easy it seemed. You were enjoying it far too much to worry about the consequences. Mark was far too lost between the creeks of your neckline and the collarbones, his thinly pressed tongue sucks across your beautiful canvas. Your moans are starting to resemble poetry to his ears. As if you were all he wants to listen to on hours end.

The tiger felt every inch of your insides clenching with awe around his shape. It was the way you wrap around so easily. Your arms do the same thing. They wrap around his body and cling onto him forever. Mark wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your eyes only part ajar like a door does only to see yellowish sparkles of phenomenal beauty spreading across the bedroom. Widening at the sight you felt like you’re hallucinating. But when you’ve looked at the man above you thrusting you seen exactly a pair of two golden Iris’ staring down at you with nothing behind those eyes but lust.

It felt as if every muscle in his body extended to his original position when Mark grunts the bottom lip pierced to his fangs. “Oh yes, keeping looking at me like that. Such a pretty whore you are.”

Cheeks grows out in awe when Mark brushed over his fingers into your hair only to press you even more into the mattress digging his clock so deep in your insides you’ve lost knowledge of how far you could last. By now it’s been far too long. Your body’s overdrive is now overheating like a computer would — yet Mark shows no sign of slowing.

Even the way his voice stood still like the sea breeze. You’re at a loss of words.

Pulling at your hair slightly Mark decided to make you sit up a little so he could rearrange the speed of his thrusts to become quicker and sharper. Which only made you gasp audibly loud when you’re held in this position for so long. Your brain begins to fog once again.

Mark groans besides your shoulders, carving his teeth marks all over your body. You’re starting to look like a butchered meat eaten alive by him.

His eyes shift close. “Fuck… that’s it… now take it all Y/n.” You’re starting to see some slowing down when Mark unleashed the folds between your pussy walls. You’re starting to give up the moment Mark leaves you to the brim; looking full and plum like he wanted you in the state.

Eutrophic state of being overdriven by an animal, was all you’re able to process.

Breathing heavily into your skin you’re closing your eyes only a little, but everytime you do that you wanted to drift off to sleep. Eventually you’re wondering if you are asleep because all you see is black with a faded out voice I’m the background calling your name all over again.

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By the morning you’re awaken by your own fine reflection of how much your body actually endured last night.

Your lips part away staring at the front. Teeth marks scattering from top to bottom. You look like a whole different person compared to when you stepped a foot into this apartment.

Your eyes dart around the bedroom putting on your clothes that were left on the floor. You had to make yourself presentable at least once in your life because right now — you feel and look completely out of place. Brushing your hands into your hair messily brushing it out any knots. Then you open the bedroom door and step out. You’re met with a smell of eggs frying in a pan.

Following the scent you’re now approaching the shoulders of a man. Short sleeve tight shirt on flexing out muscles while wearing an apron. You’re filled with some form of happiness when you see that food is being cooked.

You mumble with a groaning stomach already. “Morning. What are you cooking?”

The man turned around with a little smirk seeing you’re already dressed and awake. Mark was expecting you to be knocked out a little longer. At first he thought you died on him last night. You’ve suddenly out of nowhere blanked out. But it turns out you were due in need of much sleep.

Mark pressed the eggs out of the pan and onto the plates. Your eyes following where his muscular arms extend out the plate towards you. You took a seat down on the chair by the kitchen aisle counter. He pressed a smile.

“Eggs and some toast. It’s the best I can do.” Mark announces.

You smiled and grabbed a fork. “It’s fine I’d eat anything anyone makes me.” You wish you could’ve shut your mouth when you said that though, because you maybe held your expectations high for Mark. He cannot cook eggs for the love of God.

The smile drops on your face instantly and you clear your voice a little when you’re sending a gaze back at Mark. You take a bite of the half burnt — nearly black at the bottom scrambled eggs. How do you burn eggs? You’ve got no possible human explanation for this sorcery.

For someone who is made to be a perfect stone with no hard edges; Mark can’t cook.

You might of found Mark’s first flaw.

You trail off mumbling. “Maybe I should cook next time?” Nonetheless you eat it all without a complaint. But you had to jokingly point o it out to Mark. You’re an honest woman. You couldn’t lie to him. It might feed his delusional ego.

Mark scoffs a little and chuckles at the end. “Good idea, Y/n. I can handle the other eggs.” You nearly choked on your chewing. But before you could say anything to him he was walking out of the kitchen area with that giddy smirk on his face as if he’s proud for saying something as outrageous as that.

“I’ll be in the shower!” Mark announces without a care that you’re probably as red as an apple.

You shake your head in disbelief and trail off a little laugh. You have a feeling this might weirdly be the most calming morning you’ve had. You go back to eating your scrambled egg wondering what else you will expect…

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you!! Reblog and Follow me for more smuts like this!!

[lottiies]

one of his many journal entries about you

arthur morgan x fem!reader and male!reader <33

i won’t lie…i have 45 hours on the game and i’m not even past chapter 2 (っ- ‸ – ς) why progress when i can save myself the pending heartbreak and instead admire this pretty man and his journal sketches?

anyways…love all you arthur morgan kissers ♡

“my body doesn’t feel right as of late. my hands are too rough, my face is all wrinkled up, and my voice isn’t all that pleasant. if only i could sound as smooth as i write.

never been the most confident of men, but well, this body’s what i’m stuck with. used to go months on end without shaving until i realized my beard looked like bills. how embarrassing. miss grimshaw, the strong-headed woman she is, knocked some sense into me too. well…more like slapped me.

shaving makes me look more approachable, and that’s not really a good thing with my reputation. but, i did it anyway and spent a pretty penny on the barber up in valentine’s…had to pay a bit extra because of the drunken ruckus lenny and i caused there last time.

if my heart hadn’t been captured, maybe these worries of mine wouldn’t even exist.

oh, the ridiculous things love does to a man…”

꒰ fem!reader ꒱

“about as beautiful as the stars above; a woman so otherworldly that sometimes I have to look away. she shines too brightly for these tired eyes of mine. i suppose that’s for the best, ain’t it? a man like me, the walking embodiment of sin, isn’t worthy of such a loving lady.

but that doesn’t keep her away. she often asks me to recount some of my adventures, and i hesitantly do so, fearful she’ll think me a bad man. craziest thing is, she looks more worried than anything else whenever i do as told. telling me to be more careful with that honey-like voice of hers. could listen to it all day. it’s like a balm to the soul.

can’t keep myself away from her either. doesn’t matter what she’s doing, i always find myself wandering over to her. i don’t usually have trouble sleeping, i’m like some rock when it comes to it. but she’s occupied my mind too much lately, falling asleep is difficult. like right now. should be sleeping, but i’m not. just up wondering about the ifs and hows.

i’ve been saving up some money so i can go get her something real nice, maybe a pretty dangly necklace. could just steal one, but i want to prove myself to her. she deserves the best, not something that belonged to some other stranger.

god knows i’d do whatever i can to keep her safe and sound. i’d die for her. funny thing is, i considered myself to be a selfish man before breathing the same air as her.

i can say with absolute certainty that i would give up everything for a future with her.

if she’d have me.

…

now, this fool’s about to try and sketch her.

not sure if i can encapsulate her beauty onto a page, though.”

꒰ male!reader ꒱

“i fear I’m going mad. i never thought i’d feel this way about a man before. then again, pursuit of romance has never been a priority in my life. he’s one of a kind, something about him makes my palms feel all clammy.

he never leaves my head, every inch of this brain of mine is consumed with thoughts of him. his grin, the way his hat perches on his head, the stories he shares ‘round the campfire.

i’ve come across many men on all my journeys, but his handsomeness is unmatched. and he’s different. doesn’t nag me like dutch or get on my nerves like micah, but he isn’t just a brother like some of the other folks here.

i’ve been a bit too scared to drink these days. you know me, i spill my guts out and say stupid things like a damn fool when i get like that. wouldn’t know what to do if i were to sputter out how fine of a fella i think he is, or how grateful i am for him. is this only a special friendship? no, i don’t know how to describe this.

well, yes i do, actually.

love.

my fingers trembled while writing that.

some may call this spark a sin, but going down an altar with him would be a taste of heaven itself. that wish is too far-fetched though.

all i ask for is a sign. just one. maybe i’m misreading the glimmer in his eye, or the way the bastard slings his arm over my shoulder and sings after he downs some moonshine.

weird how life works, isn’t it?”

[middlingmay]

Gale Cleven never learned to flirt

And I have some HCs about that and how it came to bite him in the ass.

Here, have 2K+ words of the Buckies being an absolute mess.

Gale managed to reach his mid-twenties without ever flirting.

He and Marge had been inseparable since they were kids. Being together was second nature, so by the time their teenage years hit, the awkward rituals of their classmates trying to catch some guy or girl’s attention just didn't apply. Gale simply told Marge whatever he thought and felt. If it never strayed into the territory their classmates were so eager to dive into head (or pelvis) first; if it never sounded like the cheesy lines boys used to ease past a skirt, then that’s because he was too much of a gentleman. Everyone knew it. Marge’s dad never batted so much as an eye when she spent time with Gale, because he was such a good boy.

Really, that should have been the biggest clue among many before he signed up.

But then he did sign up, and he met John Clarence “Bucky” Egan, who flirted with everyone and everything.

No, really—everything.

One night after one too many beers, John was leaning against a coat rack, regaling Gale with some story or other. He gave a particularly enthusiastic wave of an arm, and nearly sent it toppling over, and him with it. But John's reflexes were still good even three sheets to the wind. He caught it before it hit the ground, set it up right and said, “Sorry, doll. I’m normally a gentleman. I’ll show you, sometime.”

It was the first time Gale laughed until he cried.

Gale had been flirted with plenty, of course. Others back home had batted eyelashes at him and sidled up to him and placed fleeting, coy touches in innocent places.

John did absolutely none of that.

He drawled and called Gale doll, sweetheart, dilly and beau. He’d look Gale in the eye whilst talking to someone else entirely and say, “My guy, Buck, here…”

He pressed their foreheads together and grabbed Gale's thighs tight and put an arm over the back of Gale's chair.

He’d chuck Gale's chin and press hands firm into the small of Gale's back, around the curve of his hip, into the dips of his waist and that was usually followed by a quick, deliberate clench of his sizeable hands.

John outright called him gorgeous, “a real heartbreaker”, and the others would laugh but that was always one of the few times John didn’t join in.

He watched Gale’s training and his flights like a hawk, bugging others over the radio: “Where’s Buck?” He’d bugged those in the tower so much, that he nearly got himself banned.

John sang love songs - badly - and smirked at Buck the whole time.

Finally, in the after, when they’d left Wyoming and Wisconsin behind for good, John had stepped up behind Gale in the kitchen in the house they shared and reached forward. He placed a whisky glass of apple juice on the counter and came round to Gale’s side. He leaned his forearms on the counter and looked up at Gale through tumbling curls he’d been letting grow a bit and said,

“Lookin’ awful lonely there, doll. What’s a guy gotta do to be your fella?”

And apparently Gale was easy, because he downed the apple juice to wet his parched throat and lips and threw his arms around John’s neck and kissed him with a fire he hadn't felt this side of a plane.

He threw the rest of himself at John, too, who caught him easy and hoisted him up on the counter. He pulled Gale's hips forward by the belt loops and ground his own hips up against him just as his tongue slid home dragged and teased out the gaps and moans Gale couldn’t control—

That afternoon, evening and night had been incredible. But, if Gale thought finally getting what they had been stepping towards for all these years would have taken some of the pressure off, he was dead wrong. He craved more.

Only, he had no idea how to go about getting it.

He wasn’t like John. Never had been. Flirting and being so damn bold didn’t come easy to Gale. Truth be told, he’d never has a reason to flirt before. And for the first time in his life, John was being absolutely no help.

If Gale didn’t know him any better, he would have said he was being shy.

But ain’t no man who could do those kinds of things with his tongue got any business being shy.

And Gale knew John wanted it, wanted him, just as badly. He caught the heated looks; heard the aborted gasps when Gale did something - anything - that showed off his physique (and his brain, he’d later discover). Christ, he felt it every time he woke up before John in the morning.

But it didn’t seem fair to always leave it to John. John had done the bulk of the legwork throughout their whole relationship, even before they finally figured it out. It was Gale’s turn.

So, he started easy.

The next morning that he woke first, the heavy weight of John at his back, he buried his smiling, blushing face in the pillow and rocked back into Bucky’s hardness. He did it harder than he expected, and Bucky woke with a groan pulled from the depths of him and grabbed Gale and pulled.

Gale revelled in his easy and rapid success and coyly teased, “John. You woke me up with that thing.”

And John abruptly released him, full of apologies and sweet kisses to his shoulders before he toddled off to the bathroom, leaving Gale painfully disappointed.

Disappointed, but not deterred. His next idea involved Bucky’s favourite hobby: lookin’ at Buck. There were horses stabled in a field nearby, and Gale had permission from the owners to take them out for some exercise anytime he wanted.

John had never been, but agreed readily enough when Gale asked him to come along.

Gale made sure to wear his tighter pants, and when they got there stripped off his shirt so he was left in only his tank, and mounted a horse called, of all things, Major.

Gale didn't go overboard. He was still workin’ an animal that demanded respect and care. But he made sure to show Bucky the flex of his thighs, the roll of his hips, the strength in him, staying in the saddle when Major wanted to jump.

He got a little lost in it and wasn’t sure how long it had been. But when he looked up, John was gone.

He found him back at the house, stumbling down the stairs red-cheeked, glassy-eyed and a little breathless. And Gale knew. He knew that look; had seen that look so many damn times since they were cadets in basic.

He looked at John with such vicious fury, that he’d gone and done that without him, that John had turned tail and given him a wide berth for the rest of the day.

Gale was going to pull out every damn hair on his head. He’d tried everything he could think of: pressing up against Bucky whenever he moved past; biting his lips like he knew John loved. He even rubbed Coppertone on John’s shoulders and back when he was out doing yard work in the heat one day. But, when Bucky had turned to him and rasped a husky, “Thank you”, Gale got so worried that John was dehydrated, he’d rushed back into the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water and glowered at him until he drank it all, before fetching him another one.

One day, Gale had had enough and decided to take a leaf out of John’s book. He was gonna flirt with that man like he’d seen John do a dozen times before, even if it made him feel like the stupidest man alive.

He allowed himself a small whisky for courage. In return for John dramatically reducing his alcohol intake, Gale sometimes, rarely, let himself indulged and shared a glass with John.

He downed this one in one go and headed into the living room where John was trying to pick a record.

Gale sidled up to him, placed his arms around his waist and said, “Hi darlin’. Can I buy you a drink?”

John’s eyes crinkled, he smiled so wide, and leaned back into Gale's arms. “Oh, I dunno. My ma warned me about guys like you.”

Gale thrummed with excitement that John was playing along, finally, finally getting the damn hint. He let his hands move from John’s hips to the spot on his belly, just above the waistband. His fingers tickled and traced along the hem. “Guys like me?”

“Mhmm. Y’just wanna get me outta my skirt.”

Gale's breath hitched. He moved the palm of one hand to John’s thigh. Heavy and slow, he stroked it up and up, letting John feel the drag of each finger. “I think you’d look good outta your skirt,” he mumbled with a nip to John's ear. He stilled his hand on John’s upper thigh and with one finger, drew a teasing line across the expansive width of it. “Maybe keep the stockings on, though.”

John choked on a laugh, on thrilled disbelief, and Gale grinned into his neck and let John turn in his arms.

And the best part, Gale quickly decided, was that for the first time ever, he managed to make John blush—at the mention of women’s stockings no less, which he had much more experience in than Gale.

Gale rejoiced as John careened forward, tongue slipping straight into Gale’s panting, waiting mouth, and Gale whimpered in the dizzying satisfaction of it as they fucked their tongues into each other and their bodies writhed standing there, in a promise of what was to come.

But then, John pulled away. Gale watched him suck on his own tongue, like he was savouring the taste of something, before clarity and realisation descend over John’s face.

“Ah,” he said. “That make sense.”

Gale frowned, even as John drew him in close and pressed their foreheads together so softly and asked, “Wanna go to bed?”

Gale could have crowed. “Mhmm. Yeah. Yes.”

John brushed a hand through Gale’s hair. “Yeah. Lets get you all tucked in, before you wake up with a sore head.”

Drunk. John thought he was drunk. And rather than giving Gale what he wanted, he was trying to be a gentleman and send him to bed. But Gale was too frustrated to be endeared by the evidence of John’s goodness. Not tonight. No siree.

He almost screamed and threw his hands up in the air. “Goddamn it, John! I’m not drunk!” He even stamped his foot. “I am trying to fuck you!”

John just stood there dumbstruck while Gale raged.

“I have been trying for days! But you, for the first time in your sorry life, have become as dumb as a bag of rocks! How come a girl used to just have to look at'cha long enough and you were all over her, but I try every trick I got and nothing!”

That jolted John out of his Gale-induced stun. “Tricks? What tricks?!”

“Oh I don't know: how about rubbin' against you like a damn bitch in heat the other morning!”

“You said I woke you up! You haven’t been sleeping good!”

“And showing off with the horses—!"

“That was on purpose?! Buck - I left because I got hard watching you! I didn’t want you to think I was some kind of perv! No one should feel like that around an animal!”

“The I rubbed you down with Coppertone?!”

“I was gonna! I got that one and I was gonna, Buck! I swear to God, but then you made me shotgun water and started yellin’ at me about dehydration!”

Gale had worked himself into a fervour and paced the living room, barely looking at John.

“After that first night, you ain’t come near me like that again. And I know I’m hopeless at this kinda thing, and you got a lot more experience than me. But I don’t want it all to be on you. And Christ, John, I was starting to think you didn’t want—what are you doing?!”

John’s shirt was on the floor and he was using one hand to wrestle his undershirt over his head and the other to unbuckle his belt.

Muffled under the fabric of his shirt Gale heard him say, “You said you wanna fuck,” he finally pulled the shirt over his head and his curls sprung free and wild, “we’re gonna fuck.”

Gale stood with hands on his hips, still in his lecture pose. “Right here?”

John lost the belt and went for the buttons on his pants. “Right here.”

Gale drummed his fingers against his hips and stared as John dropped his pants. “Well…that’s, good.”

John snatched Gale by the belt and dragged him him. “Don't be getting shy on me, now.”

And normally that was exactly the kind of thing that would send all of Gale’s bravado running for the hills, but he’d been so desperate for so long that he pounced on John before he even made the conscious decision, and together they undressed him in record time.

John got him on the floor, somehow, and twisted and flipped them so Gale was on top, and Gale looked at him with one eyebrow arched in breathless judgement. “Really?”

John nodded wide-eyed. “Oh, yeah. Really. I’m serious, Buck. I don’t think I can go near those stables with you again. It’s indecent.”

Gale gave an experimental roll of the hips, and when John keened and bucked underneath him, Gale clenched his thighs and drove him down and brought him back under control easy. So he didn’t see that much difference between the skill this would take and what he used to work Major. But still. After what he’d put him through, John didn’t deserve to have it too easy. “Hm, I don’t know. How long you gonna last like this? You got a lot of making up to do.”

And John looked mortally offended, but he’d learned something about Gale through all of this too, and said, “About a long as you will when you see me in those stockings you’ve been fantasizing about.”

And Gale’s hips jerked without his permissions, and things descended beyond the power of words after that.

Later, as they languished on the living room floor with the throw from the couch tossed over them to ward of the evening chill, John turned to him and said, delighted, “You could just ask me to fuck you, you know. Ever thought of that?”

And Gale smirked and nipped at the finger tracing his cheek. “Don't count on it.”

[hearts4golbach]

I lovedd ur sfw alphabet for tyler!! could you do an nsfw one if possible??🥹

ABC NSFW Headcanons.

a/n:

im so behind on requests this is so stressful.

not proofread

warnings:

no actual smut, suggestive content, sex talk.

word count:

1.1k.

A- aftercare. (What are they like after sex?)

Tyler isn't overly caring. he'll clean his cum off of you before crawling into bed with you. you two cuddle because when you go at it, you go at it HARD. on occasion, especially if he fucks you in the morning, he'll run the two of you a shower.

B- body part. (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners.)

Fella is most confident in his arms and chest. he jokingly flexes his muscles, but it ends up turning you on.

his favorite part of your body is your face and torso. he thinks your waist and hips look amazing in whatever you wear. you always catch him staring when you're wearing something other than pajamas.

C- cum. (anything they do with cum.)

he gets down and dirty with it. he loves seeing his cum on your face, stomach, tongue, ass, wherever. if you guys go for more than one round, he doesn't clean his cum off of you until you're finished.

his thumb ran over your bottom lip, smearing his seed over your lips. he swiped some off your cheek, sticking his finger into your mouth and watching as you suck it clean.

D- dirty secret. (self explanatory.)

whenever your hair is up, especially in a pony tail, all he can think about is seeing your face as he pulls your hair. he loves tugging on your hair. if he could leave your hair a mess all of the time, he would.

E- experience. (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

it didn't take him long to learn your body. he knows all of the right spots inside of you and what really gets you going. before you, he had sex with a couple other girls, so he had an average amount of experience. he only kept getting better whenever you two started dating.

F- favorite position. (self explanatory.)

even though Fella jokes about buckshot a lot, I feel like he'd love giving them. he also loves missionary. he gets to watch how your face contorts as he pleasures you. he's not big on crazy positions.

G- goofy. (are they serious in the moment?)

he'll joke if it feels right or to relieve tension. he doesn't want to take sex too serious because it ruins the enjoyable aspects of it.

H- hair. (how well groomed are they? do the carpets match the drapes?)

he leaves a little stubble but doesn't like leaving a lot of hair. the carpet does in fact match the drapes, no further explanation.

I- intimacy. (how are they in the moment? romance related.)

it depends on the mood. if you wanted it rough, he'd give it to you rough. but, if it's sweet vanilla sex he is very intimate with you.

J- jack off. (masturbation headcanon.)

if you're not there, he only perks off about once a day. when he does, he takes a shower because he doesn't want to be bothered with cleaning up his own seed. he doesn't use any material to get off, just the thought of you.

K- kink. (some of their kinks.)

he'd love fucking you while you wore one of his shirts.

L- location. (favorite place to get freaky?)

his favorite place is his bed, hands down. but if you two wanna change it up, his go to is the shower. Tyler also loves how steamy the car gets.

M- motivation. (What turns them on?)

you. your scent. your personality. everything about you. whenever you're yourself, which is when it's just the two of you, it gets him going. he can't help but admire you and imagine all of the dirty things he'd do to you.

N- no. (something they wouldn't do.)

he wouldn't do anything too violent, like slapping you or hitting you. he knows it turns some people on, but it just presses his buttons in the wrong way.

O- oral. (preference on giving and recieving and skill.)

he prefers to give you head. he could eat you out for hours on end. although, he does occasionally enjoy using your throat. he is mind blowing blowingly good at giving head.

P- pace. (are they fast and rough or slow and sensual?)

I think he can be both. it all just depends on the vibe between you two at that time. he prefers slow and sensual over fast and rough.

Q- quickie. (their opinion obviously.)

he loves quickies. they're exhilarating for him. although he prefers to take his time with you, quickies are just as fun.

R- risk. (Do they like to experiment? how willing are they to take risks?)

if you're comfortable with it, Tyler is down to try whatever you want. you rarely turn down things he wants to try as well. spicing things up in the bedroom isn't unusual for the two of you.

S- stamina. (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

depending on how long you had Fella waiting for, it varies. if you had been teasing eachother all day, Tyler can last for 2 or 3 rounds. one round is normally enough for both of you.

T- toys. (Do they own them or use them?)

he doesn't own toys, and feel slightly insecure if you want to use them during sex. it makes him feel insufficient, but you never wanted to use toys, anyway.

U- unfair. (how much do they like to tease.)

fuck, it's all Tyler does. he loves teasing you more than anything. and he loves it just as much when you tease him in return.

V- volume. (how loud are they and what sounds to they make?)

he's a grunter!!! if it's super good, he'll let out low moans. he's not super loud, but loud enough for you to hear. the noises he makes never fails to turn you on.

W- wild card. (random headcanon.)

he loves it whenever you cover him in hickeys. the feeling of your lips on his neck is heaven. there is never a moment where there isn't a hickey on him, even if it's hidden.

X- x-ray. (a peek under the clothes.)

I've seen people saying exact measurements, but I don't wanna violet Fella like that. I will say he's definitely above average, but not too skinny nor thick. and yeah, he does have a curve to it.

Y- yearning. (how high is their sex drive?)

your sex life is healthy. unless either of you are busy, sex is a daily thing. you two are addicted to eachother and make love like you're still in the honey moon stage.

Z- ZZZ. (how quickly do they fall asleep afterwards?)

while you fall asleep almost immediately, it's sort of difficult for him. when you fall asleep, he holds you and savors your presence.

[cevansbrat0007]

Moments Shared

Summary: You and Ari share a moment during a lazy afternoon...

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Fluff & Schmoop, Light Smut, Secrets, Discussions of Imaginary Friends, Brief Mention of Pyromania, Light Fingering, Ass Slapping, Mentions of Spanking, Mentions of Restraints, Love Songs, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread but not beta'd. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

“Bird?”

“Mm?” You look up from your place sprawled across Ari’s chest, the steady sound of his heartbeat having almost lulled you to sleep after yet another lazy bout of lovemaking. 

The perfect activity for a quiet Sunday afternoon.

“Tell me something.” The easy rasp of his voice has you smiling before you even realize you’re doing it. “About you.” He absentmindedly runs his knuckles up and down your arms, marveling at the trail of goosebumps he leaves behind in his wake. 

“Um, what do you wanna know?” You press a soft kiss against his pec, the soft hairs adorning his skin tickling your nose. 

The bounty hunter takes a moment to think. “Anything.” He finally responds, as if he had weighed his options and decided he was better off not pressing his luck. So he’d settled on accepting whatever it was you deigned to share with him. And he’d be damned grateful for it. “Whatever you wanna tell me.”

“I guess I’m just not sure don’t what to say.” Of their own accord, he wraps one of your curls around a thick finger, tugging playfully. 

“Okay then, how ‘bout I start?”

“...Alright.” You roll onto your side, propping your chin up with your hand. “Take away then, Levinson. Or do you need me to do a drum roll so – eep!” You let out a squeal when he swats at your hip. 

“Mind the sass, woman.” Ari grunts, although the teasing quirk of his lips makes it known that he’s only joking. 

“Such a Beast.” You stick out your tongue at him, earning yourself another swat from your man. 

“And don’t you forget it.” He reaches out to intertwine his fingers with yours, stroking the pad of his thumb across your palm. “Now, stop trying to make me lose focus while I think of a secret to share.”  

“Oh...we’re telling secrets now, are we?” Well, that certainly upped the stakes a bit. 

“Of course.” Ari presses a swift kiss to your clasped hands. “Nothing too heavy, baby. Just our deepest and darkest.” He winks then, chuckling when you try to pull away. “Hey–I was kidding. C’mere and settle down.”

“Fine.” You blow out a breath as you shift under the blankets. “Let’s hear it then. And you’d better wow me.” You affectionately boop his nose. “I won’t be held responsible for your self-esteem if you bore me to sleep.”

Your bounty hunter sighs before tucking an arm behind his head. He’s quiet for a moment as he mulls over his words. But you don’t make any move to antagonize him further. If he was in the mood to share then who were you to stop him?

“I…had a dog named Bacon growing up.” He muses before clearing his throat. “It, uh, kinda looked like a cross between a Bernese Mountain Dog and Beethoven.”

“The composer or St. Bernard?” You tease, lightly poking him the ribs.

“St. Bernard. Forgot the name ‘til just now.” 

“Well, that must have been interesting. Never heard of that mix before.” You tell him truthfully, suddenly confused when you feel him tense beneath you. 

“He was three hundred pounds with a white lightning bolt that streaked across his left hip.” 

Now, that part of his admission gives you serious pause. You pull back, cocking your head to the side as you wait for him to continue. 

“Sometimes he talked. Fella had the coolest British accent.” Ari stares up at the ceiling, his eyes glazing over as he watches the fan overhead go round and round. “Although he didn’t eat much considering his size.”

“Ari…” What in the ever loving canine capers was he talking about?

“It’s funny…” He chuckles, his big body vibrating with mirth. “Because his favorite foods were chocolate cake, brussel sprouts, and green peas. Now, I love the first one but can’t rightfully stand the other two. And I know they say about dogs and chocolate…”

“...Makes them sick.” You mumble, wondering where he was headed with this bizarre fever dream of a recollection.

“But Bacon loved it.” He continues, almost as if you hadn’t spoken. “He and I went on so many amazing adventures. Best imaginary dog a boy could ever have.”

“I’m sorry.” You wheeze as you let out the puff of air you’d been holding without realizing it. “What?”

“He wasn’t real, Bird. But he was the closest thing I ever got to an imaginary friend. Or a pet for that matter.” Ari flashes you a toothy grin. “Ma didn’t mind too much because it meant I stopped pestering her about adopting every stray mutt we saw wandering down the side of the road.”

“But you said…wait…” You felt like you were about to short circuit. 

“Baby.” Your man’s face is serious as he leans over to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing the apple of your cheek. “Dogs don’t talk. I mean, not with words anyway. And definitely not with British accents. Be sure to make that note when you’re writing about this in your diary tonight.” 

“Oh, screw you!” A laugh bursts from his chest when you push him away. The smug bastard clearly thought he was funny. “For your information, I thought you might’ve suffered some kind psychotic break. Asshole.” Balling up your fist, you land a solid blow to his kidney. 

“I’m sorry, darlin’.” Ari coos once his laughter finally fades. “We moved around a lot when I was a kid. Me, my Ma, and my two sisters. Never stayed in one place for too long. Things tended to get pretty lonely at times, so I made up Bacon to cope.”

His voice dips as he moves closer so that he can rest his forehead against yours. “I haven’t spoken to anyone about my buddy, B, in damn near twenty years, save for you. Is that okay?”

And just like that you can practically feel your heart melting. 

You swallow thickly as you break away, giving yourself time to respond. “It is. Thank you for sharing with me.” Ari gives you a cursory nod which also signals that it’s now your turn. Great.

“I…might’ve been a bit of a firebug growing up.” A shiver courses through you, which is odd considering the fact that you’re not the least bit cold. “Something about the way the flames danced and all that.”

“Is that right?” His tone lets you know that he’s intrigued. 

“Yep.” The word flops out of your mouth. “God, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this. You might arrest me.” You cover your face with your hands before peeking at him from between your fingers. “Can I please have a minute to google the statute of limitations for the State of Texas?”

The lawman’s unexpected snort has you giggling. “From here on out, anything you share with me while I’ve got you naked in my bed will be considered off the record.”

“Okay, well – wait.” You cast him a suspicious glance, your face still partially obscured. “You promise?”

Grinning, Ari surprises you by holding up his hand and offering you his pinky finger. “I have a five-year-old niece who assures me these kinds of agreements are legally binding.”

“Alright.” Biting the inside of your cheek, you find yourself reaching out to wrap your corresponding digit around his. “But just to be safe, let me see you cross your heart.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He gives a rueful shake of his head before complying. “But I draw the line at sticking a needle in my eye.” 

“Duly noted.” Needing to stretch your languid muscles, you decide to take a second to arch your back, revealing bare breasts to Ari’s gaze. And while he doesn’t say anything, you can’t help but notice how his wandering fingers appear all too eager to pull it down even further until it’s draped across your hips. 

“I’m still listening.” Ari assures you even as his pink tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Just didn’t want you to overheat.” 

“How thoughtful of you.” You respond, rolling your eyes. Thankfully, he doesn’t appear to notice since he’s too busy tracing abstract designs along your pouting nipples. “Shall I continue?”

“Please do.” He rasps as his pupils dilate with desire.

“As I was saying, I used to be a bit of a firebug. And I…” You’re forced to bat his hands away so that you can attempt to concentrate on your story. “Well, one time a couple of us kids got our hands on some industrial grade firecrackers. The “good shit” as they say. This boy - Curtis – he bought ‘em from his cousin, Rudy. He claimed they fell off a truck on its way to Dallas.”

“Curtis. Rudy. Dallas. Got it.” A stubborn Ari goes back to toying with your breast. “Feel free to keep going.”

“I mean it, Ari. These weren’t just any ordinary firecrackers we’re talking about.” Your eyes go big as the memory overtakes you. “These were special. The name on the box read The Devil’s Anus.” 

Ari whistles low, the unusually graphic name briefly jolting him out of his reverie. “Well, that certainly paints an image.”

“Uh huh. I can still see that box like it happened yesterday. And for all the trouble it caused, it definitely was a product of Satan. Anyway, me and some of the neighborhood kids thought it would be a good idea to sneak out in the middle of night to set ‘em off. So we rode our bikes to this field on the outskirts of town to put on a little show. Mind you, this was right after the Fourth of July.”

“Mmhm.” Now his fingers have moved to fiddle with the edge of the sheet. Knowing him, he was probably seconds from kicking it off the bed. He didn’t like keeping your naked body hidden for too long. 

“Ari, would you quit it?” Again you try to fend him off, and again it does almost nothing. “Anyway, I always carried matches with me for moments like that. And so we start lettin’ ‘em fly one by one. And it was flippin’ awesome, you hear me? But they were also really, really loud too.”

“Suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, my little pyro.” 

“Well, none of us had really accounted for the noise. And not only that, but those things shoot far. One went rogue and we ended up losing sight of it behind this abandoned barn across the clearing and…” A loaded sigh escapes your lips. “The next thing we knew, the whole thing went up in flames.”

“Holy shit.” Ari blinks, now fully invested in your tale one more. “What’d you do?”

“It all happened so fast. We turned tail and raced back to town. Peddled our bikes home as fast as we could, ducking in the bushes whenever the police or the fire department whizzed by. God, I was terrified. I mean, thankfully they were able to extinguish the fire before it did too much damage but…” You trail off, allowing your bounty hunter to fill in the blanks for himself.

“I’m, uh…I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess that the perpetrators were never apprehended?” Ari quirks one tawny brow as he watches your teeth begin to worry your bottom lip.

“Correct. And I prayed every night for three months straight, hoping against hope that it would stay that way. God did his part and in exchange for His grace, I never touched another match ever again. To this day, I even get nervous lighting the occasional candle.”

Finished, you give into the temptation to bury your face in his chest while you wait for him to say something – anything – about your revelation. You’d never told a soul about what happened that night. You and your little crew had sworn to go to your graves with the knowledge you’d almost started what could’ve easily turned into a pretty devastating fire. 

People went to jail for that shit.

“Say something already.” You eventually whine, hating the sound of silence the longer it lasts. “Please, Beast.”

“It’s just…” You feel a hand come to rest on your lower back. “After all this time, it’s just wild to know I’ve been sleeping with a fugitive from justice.”

Your head snaps up as you watch him snicker, your eyes narrowing into menacing slits. “You had better not breathe a word of this to anyone or I will end you.” You grip his face, squishing it between your fingers. “Just because we’re a couple hundred miles out from the ocean doesn’t mean you won’t find yourself at the bottom of it. Are we clear?” 

“Crystal.” He confirms through pursed lips. 

“Thank you.” Comes your demure reply, which has you sounding every inch the southern belle. And then you release him, all the while struggling not to react at the way he dramatically wiggles his jaw. 

“Never been more turned on in my life.” Ari growls as he palms his growing erection through the thin sheet. “I’m not usually the type to get my rocks off at the threat of bodily harm but…I just might have to let you tie me up one of these days.”

Immediately your eyes light up at the prospect of your bounty hunter finally letting you be in charge. Your gaze flits towards the direction of his pants, wondering if he maybe had his cuffs stuffed in one of his back pockets. 

You knew without a doubt that you could have a lot of fun with those shiny metal restraints he seemed to cherish so much.

“That was a maybe.” The man at your side is quick to amend. “So don’t you go getting any ideas just yet.” His imperious tone has you pouting before he’s even finished his sentence. 

“Hmph.” You cross your arms over your chest, purposely pushing up your breasts. “Then I guess I’m done sharing.”

“Aww, c’mon now, Duchess. Don’t go cold on me.” Ari nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, his freshly trimmed beard tickling the skin along your pulse point.

“Nope. I’m done and – ooh!” You cry out when he repositions himself so that he can pull one of your nipples into his mouth, his warm tongue expertly swirling over the pebbled tip. He sucks hard, moaning against your flesh. 

“But I’ve still got lots more secrets to tell.” He purrs, his hand creeping between your bodies in search of something a little more…delicate. His favorite part of you that he claimed was always so soft and sweet. 

“Well, I suppose that’s just t–too bad.” You croak out when his skilled fingers make contact with your slippery folds, causing your hips to arch. “I’m not interested.”

“Liar.” Ari teases, shifting his big body so that he can focus on your sensitive clit. “I’ve never let a woman tie me up before. So maybe give me a little time to warm up to the prospect of restraints. It might even help if you let me do the honors first, hm?”

“Then go get them.” You hiss, nipping at his jaw. 

“When I’m good and damned ready.” He snarls back before slanting his mouth over yours, his tongue sweeping its way past your lips to duel with your own. “Fucking brat.” Ari takes his time exploring every inch, every corner. And when he feels your body go lax in submission, he knows he finally has you exactly where he wants you. 

Or so he thinks anyway.

“So what if I am?” You cup his face with your hands, drawing him even closer so that he’s on top of you. Not wanting to be without him for even a second longer. “You like it.” You allow your teeth to graze over his plump bottom lip. Once. Twice. Sucking it into your mouth before releasing it with a slight pop.     

“Maybe I do.” This time his growl rumbles deep in his chest. “But if I ever hear about you playing with firecrackers again, I promise to light your ass up somethin’ pretty.”

“You’re gonna have to catch me first.” Of its own accord, your hand comes down on Ari’s muscled butt with a resounding smack.

“Did you just…spank me?” He asks, surprise evident in his tone.

Oops.

“I did. And I’ll even let you in on a little secret while I’m at it.” You confirm without even a hint of remorse as you reach out to stroke the pads of your fingers along the veined edge of his impressive cock, loving the way he responds to your touch. “I’m probably gonna do it again.”

You offer him an impish grin, which he eagerly returns. “Try it and I’ll see to it that my handprint is permanently tattooed on that sexy ass of yours.”

“But what if I’m still a little tender from earlier?” You try, delighting in the way your gruff bounty hunter switches from faux indignation to genuine concern in less than a heartbeat.    

“Are you?” His nostrils flare as he waits for your answer while his big hands skim their way down your body, checking you over. Looking for any sign that you might need more time before going another round. 

“Not really.” You tell him as you guide him back down to your weeping pussy. “Maybe I just wanted to see what you’d do. See if you’d be okay with taking it easy if that’s what I needed from you.” Your gaze locks with his at that moment, your eyes searching his cerulean depths for any sign of irritation or annoyance – of which you find none. 

“You wanna know a secret, my fierce little Bird?” Ari murmurs, his lips brushing along the shell of your ear. “Let me know when you’re ready.” You shudder when you feel his sharp teeth gently nibble your delicate lobe. 

“I’m ready.” You respond, sounding more than a little breathless. But even so, your hands find their way to the globes of his ass once again, squeezing in warning. 

“I can’t wait for the day when I finally see you wearing nothing but my cuffs. And then I’ll show you just how good it can feel to give yourself to me. But I can sense that we’re not quite there yet, you and I, so – hush and let me finish please.” He pins you with a knowing look when you open your mouth to interrupt. It falls shut without a word. And then Ari moves to straddle your waist before pinning your arms above your head.

“So we’re gonna give it a little more time. Time for me to prove to you that I’m the man you need every day of the goddamned week.” He leans down to capture your lips in a brief, but meaningful kiss. Leaving you stunned.

“But that’s not my secret. At least not really. The real secret is that ever since I laid eyes on you, I've spent almost every damn day whistling love songs like an idiot. Now, I’m gonna be honest. I hated it at first. Because in my experience, it’s kinda difficult to feel like you’re the biggest, baddest motherfucker walking around on two legs if you’re too busy humming "Just My Imagination" under your breath to remember to glare when it's appropriate.”

“I’m so sorry. But for what it’s worth…” You shimmy in his hold, loving the hungry look that swiftly flits across his handsome features. “Assuming that I’m allowed to speak now, that is.”

“Be my guest, brat.” 

“For what it’s worth…I might have a whole playlist dedicated to your overbearing ass.” You feel your cheeks heat. But you’re not embarrassed by your admission. If Ari could be vulnerable, then perhaps you could too. “One that I may or may not listen to on my way to and from the shop every day.”

Ari swallows the lump in throat, his entire body momentarily overcome with emotion. You really have no idea how happy you just made him.

“You still thinking about flying away on me, Bird?” He asks, shifting his grip on your wrists so that grab a hold of your chin.

“Falling for you is more like it.” Your spoken secret comes out barely above a whisper. “But don’t let that go to your head or anything.” 

Because you still weren’t quite sure if you were prepared to survive the landing. Only time would tell.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” He smiles down at you, his eyes brimming with affection. “But…if you ever feel yourself falling too fast…can you at least promise to let me catch you?”

A beat goes by before you hold up your pinky finger, which he readily locks with his own. It makes your heart melt all over again. 

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Beast.”

Famous last words. If only you’d known what Fate had in store for you, then perhaps you would’ve made a promise that was easier to keep. Because you’d never been the type to gamble on anything or anyone. Not men. Not love. Because you’d already learned the hard way that that kind of shit was never a sure thing. But heartbreak…

Now that one always seemed to be waiting for you just around the corner no matter where you looked. And deep down, you were convinced that it was only a matter of time before it found you again.  

 END   

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[ribread03]

Kitty love M. Sturniolo

About the fic: you and Matt get a kitten named titan (after my new kitten -the handsome fella in the middle). Nick notices how cute you and Matt are taking care of him and makes an innocent comment about it that gets you and Matt thinking some.

Warnings: nothing really just some fluff and pet names.

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“I want this one” You say pointing to a black kitten in the shelter.

“Yeah, we can get that one” Matt agrees with you. “He’s a cutie” He adds on.

“He sure is” you say clapping your hands together in excitement. “What are we going to name him!?” You ask Matt looking up at him slightly.

“I have no clue, what do you think sweetie?”

“I don’t know” you say quietly.

“That’s ok” he reassures you as a worker scoops up the kitten and places him in a carrier for the two of you. His hand snakes around your waist as you guys walk to the front desk to pay for the new kitten.

~~~

As Matt and you walk to the car you are thinking about names. As you sit in the passenger seat the kitten on your lap as you let out a quiet chuckle. “I have an idea babe” You say as Matt sits in his seat and starts he car. He hums, letting you know he is listening to you as he pulls out of the parking lot. “We can call him titan, but there’s more.” You say looking over at Matt as he shakes his head up and down, still driving home. “So when my mom was pregnant with my brother they told my grandfather they were going to name him titanium junk yard” you say with a smile. You look over at Matt and are greeted with a goofy smile.

“I love that” He says when he places his hand on your thigh as he turns down the street you live on. “I love the backstory to, really they where going to name him titanium junk yard?” He says slowing down, aprotching the house.

“Not really, it was just a joke they made up” You say with a small giggle. “i can wait to play with him” You are basically talking to yourself, swooning over the kitten. Matt lightly squeezes your thigh, making you look up at him and smile. Once you realize you are home you are quick to unbuckle and bring the kitten inside, giggling quietly as you do so.

Once inside you are met with Nick who is watching tv in the living room. “Hey Nick” you say with a cheerful tone, which catches his attention.

“Hey Y/N” Nick says with some suspicion in his voice. When he notices that you have a pet carrier in you hands when you round the corner he knows exactly why. “Is that!” He starts but then the kitten meows very quietly , “YOUR JOKING!” He says while he walks over to you taking the carrier out of your hands. “You guys did! OMG”

Nick walks over to the couch and sits, you close behind him down as Matt walks into the door. “Hi” he whispers as he comes and sits next to you on the couch, his hands finding your waist “Did you even get to hold him yet?” He as with a small chuckle, as the two of you watch Nick play with titan.

“It’s ok” you say leaning back into Matt’s body, your hands laying over his. Matt hums in response resting his chin on your shoulder.

“What’s his name?” Nick pulls you out of your thoughts as he scoots closer to you and Matt.

“Titan” You say softly, letting a small smile form on your face from the thought of how telling nick the kittens full name would go. You end up telling nick the story on how you named the kitten and it’s safe to say his is a little confused but he still loves the name. “So thats how we named him” You say with a small giggle.

~~

“Titan come here you need your medicine” You say as you and Matt both chase the kitten around the house trying to get him.

“Come on out buddy” Matt calls for him. Using a toy to try and lure him out of his hiding spot, this works because titan comes right out to Matt.

Matt is able to grab titan and hand him over to you for you to give him his medicine. “I know buddy” you coo as the kitten wiggles in your arms as you give him his meds. “I know, only a few more days.” You say placing a small kiss on the kittens head and letting him free again. “That’s going to make the cat hate me, I’m sure of it.” You say to Matt, now sitting down on the couch next to him, cuddling into his side.

“He’s not going to hate you” Matt reassures you as he pulls you closer to him by your hips. “Im sure of it” he adds on watching titan run around, letting out a soft laugh when he attacks your toes.

“See he hates me” you say with a soft laugh, the kittens fur tickling your feet. “He’s trying to make it so i cant walk.” You say scooping the kitten up and into you lap, making silly faces at it with Matt.

What the two of you didn’t know is that nick was watching from the stairs leading up to his room. He cant help but let out a little ‘awe’ at the way you and Matt are acting as the kittens parents. When you guys hear nick you look up from the kitten.

“Hi nick” You say, letting him know, you know hes there.

“Im sorry, I couldn’t help it.” He says walking the rest of the way down the stairs. “You and Matt were just so cute, taking care of titan” he walks into the kitchen and continues to talk. “You guys would make really good parents, like I’m not even joking.” He tells you and Matt and walks back upstairs.

*later in bed*

You and Matt are cuddling in bed watching a movie. You are trying to pay attention to the movie but your thoughts keep going back to what nick said earlier. “Matt” you whisper breaking the comfortable silence you guys fell into to.

“What’s up baby?” He sits up a little to see your face better.

You’re not sure how to bring up your thoughts about the comment nick made about the two of you, so you decide to just blurt it out. “I was thinking about what Nick said about us…” You pause for a second before speaking again “about us being good parents.” You are waiting for Matt to say something, anything. He open and closes his mouth a few times before speaking.

“What about it sweetheart?” His hand finds yours, you fiddle with his rings as a nervous habit.

“Have you ever really thought about having kids? I mean we’ve never really talked about what we want for the future” you say rambling on before Matt speaks up.

“Hey hey hey” He stops you “I’ve never really thought about it, but if you want kids far far far into the future then we can have kids” he says in a calm voice. “I want you to be happy” he gives you a quick kiss on the temple.

“I just was really thinking about it after nick saying something” you cuddle back into his chest. “We don’t really have to talk about it right now, maybe when we are both ready?”

“Of course” His hands are still in yours as your fingers still and your breathing steadies. “I love you sweetheart” he whispers into your hair before quickly falling asleep after you.

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

AN: this is a quick little fic that i wanted to put out. i might be MIA for a little due to some family stuff but ill still try to be active and all. I plan on doing some “spin offs” of this like where Matt gets jealous or they in a few years have a serious talk about kids, stuff like that. Thank you for reading and as always I LOVE YOU! THANK YOU SO MUCH! BYE BYE!

[sevikasbeloved]

Sevika saying I love you for first time

Me 🤝 always making my characters say ily prematurely, this is right up my alley.

And I am co-opting her last name as Lanes idgaf

__________________________________

Poker night.

It was the Last Drop’s annual tradition, the one day out of the year when the bar was bounds more lawless than it was on a regular day, as in, anything goes.

Anything.

It was the only night where you could stab someone for looking at you funny or do an insane amount of drugs without enforcers sniffing down your backs for an arrest, no matter what it was, you could do it here.

Not to mention it was Sevika favourite night. She called it fright night - fitting due to the fact that this day was the first day you met her, and she gave you way more than a fright. (Wink wink)

Anyhow, today was here and Sevika took you officially as her girlfriend, warding off any fuckeads or creeps who assumed that tonight gave them an excuse to be toward to a woman like you.

She held you by your waist, her fingers roping in the soft material of your short dress as she guided you to her table. The barman who had the unfortunate task of being on shift tonight scurried over to your table like clockwork, handing out a glass to each person that sat around it - those people being you, Sevika, two old geezers and a young fella who clearly just figured out the rules of the entire night (safe to say he’d already shit himself).

As the barman shied away from the table, Sevika slid into the booth chair, assuming her position at the head of the table as you slid onto her lap, perching yourself against her thigh as you leaned your head against her shoulder, already dreading the boredom that was poker.

“Baby, don’t fall asleep on me tonight,” she whispered into your ear as her hands remained occupied with the cards she shuffled between them.

“I won’t, I promise.” You hummed, and that you meant, moving your eyes to focus on more interesting things in the bar,

Like, the drunken men who danced like sailors, unable to rid themselves of their sea legs as they smashed drinks around in the pint glasses, smashing them (full or empty) onto the hardwood floor.

“cheers cunt!” One of the men shouted, slapping another across the face, the scene making you struggle to suppress a giggle.

Turns out when you give people a free for all, they just get drunk and act like kids.

A collective groan from Sevika’s opponents gained your attention as you looked back to the table, the scene of Sevika already winning her first round.

You kissed the temple on her head, leaving the tip of your nose to linger against it,

“Good job, baby.” You whispered against the shell of her ear. She hummed, placing her hand against your thigh, gripping it ever so slightly, causing your lower half to writhe against her thigh.

The table looked over at the two of you in annoyance and disgust as you pressed another kiss against the side of her face.

“You gonna win another for me?” You mumbled, suddenly becoming interested in the game, remembering how horny she became when she’d win.

“What’s the prize if I do?” She hummed, grazing her nose against your cheek, already dishing out a new set of cards.

You giggled at the sensation against your cold face, grinding your ass back into the crook of her hip as a response.

“How’d you know that’s exactly what I wanted?” She teased, her hand wandering up your thigh, cutting close to exposing you to the rest of the table.

You swatted her hand away playfully, “only if you win, Angel.”

You could almost hear her growl as she pulled her hand fully away, readjusting herself in her seat, the motion of her thigh bouncing between your thighs almost making you take back your ‘if’.

For the rest of the match you could do nothing but watch, suddenly becoming infinitely more interested in whether she won or lost - even though she’d never lost a game at least since she met you.

One by one, members in the booth tapped out, leaving you alone with her and one other man, clearly determined to win it all.

Sevika was unshaken by his determination though, almost too preoccupied by you to even notice the fat stack he slipped into the pool.

“I’m getting impatient, baby.” She mumbled into the locks of your hair.

You giggled at her sudden disposition to the game, noticing how the lad opposite you had reassessed his hand, growing more nervous as she pushed her previous winnings into the pile without even thinking.

“Call it.” She said to the man, knowing she already had a winning hand.

“Huge bluff, I can see right through it.” He scoffed, beckoning her to play her cards.

You and Sevika both looked at each other, sharing a knowing smile.

“Tell the gentleman what cards I’m holding, baby.” She said aloud, looking over at him with an almost sorry smile, almost.

You hummed, leaning forward dramatically as you analysed what you knew to be the winning hand. You milked it, arching your back fully so Sevika could get the best view, feeling your skirt ride up ever so slightly as her hand grazed your ass.

“A royal flush, mister.” You smiled and winked, perching yourself back up against sevika.

She threw her cards down on the table and whistled for a barman to clear her winnings. The man stood up in a huff, storming off to a lesser stakes table, taking his chances there.

“Put that on the bar’s tab, everyone drinks for free tonight.” Sevika ordered.

The barman looked at her with wide eyes before nodding and scurrying off behind the bar, ringing a cowbell as he announced-

“Drinks on Sevika all night!”

The whole room erupted into cheers, some even coming up to offer their personal thanks.

“You’re too kind, Sevika, really, you always look out for the people!” One man said, a smile as big as ever on his face.

She barely heard the thanks as she kissed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

You turned your head, stealing a kiss for your lips before pulling away too look at her.

“Why did you do that?” You said, impressed by her sudden generosity to the people she usually doesn’t have a nice word to say about.

“Cause,” she moved you so you were straddling her, “I’ve got all I love and need right here.”

Your heart stopped beating when you heard that word leave her lips with full earnest,

“Love?” You repeated back to her, unsure if you heard it right.

She chuckled, revealing that toothy smile that made you fall for her in the first place.

“Yeah, I love you.” She said, almost breathless as she realised that was the first time she said it aloud.

Your brows knitted together as you lost any composure you had, tears threatening to spill in the busy room.

She held your face, planting a kiss against your cheeks then nose, chin and finally your lips, pulling away to say,

“I love you so much it hurts.”

You giggled, head falling into the crook of her neck,

“Sevika Lanes, I love you too.”

[tgmsunmontue]

To wake, perchance to dream WIP 3/?

Hangster - Jake wakes up ~13 years in the future and thinks he has amnesia. Instead it's a glimpse of what his life could be. When he wakes up right before being called back to Top Gun for the special detachment he's going to try his damndest to make that future come true...

CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

                He’s never seen the wheels of the Navy work so fast, which makes him equal parts excited and apprehensive about what he’s going into. It’s obviously big, and difficult. And incredibly time sensitive. Also it’s a fucking ego boost to know that he’s been picked to assist in whatever is happening. He wracking his brain and trying to remember if there was anything that had maybe been mentioned or left as a clue by his other self… There’s nothing that jumps out though so he’s going in blind and just has to hope that being himself and repeating Bradley’s words, about being patient with him, are going to be enough.

                When he sees Javy, younger, much less grey, he just grins and holds him tight. If he’s here then everything feels like it’ll be alright. He’s been a part of Jake’s life forever and there for every major milestone. If he’s here then he knows he can deal with anything and everything thrown his way. They enter the Hard Deck and Jake grabs them a couple of beers, jerks his head towards the dart board.

                “Come on, I need to beat you at darts.”

                “Twenty bucks you can’t get three in a row.”

                He lands the three darts effortlessly, and god it feels good to not have a single care in the world right now, even if he’s wondering where Bradley might be. How he can maybe get his number and start up… something. Anything. Javy insists they move to pool, which is fine, he has even less of a chance of beating Jake at pool but he’ll let him keep dreaming. The bell rings indicating there’s a round on some poor sucker who has either insulted the Navy or a lady, or a complete greenhorn who has placed their phone on the bar. He sinks two balls simultaneously, impressing even himself and Javy makes an annoyed exclamation and he grins, looks up and…

                “What do we have here? If it ain’t Phoenix! And here I thought we were special, Coyote. Turns out the invite went to anyone,” Jake teases, because the woman in front of him is going to become one of his best friends and she needs to know he’s not going to stop being his normal slightly irritating self. And she’s going to make Javy so happy, and he already loves her for that.

                “Fellas, this here’s Bagman.”

                “Hangman,” Jake corrects. Damn. He’d forgotten she could give as good as she could take but that Bagman feels like an insult now but it was a teasing endearment what only feels like a few days ago.

                “Whatever. You’re looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill.”

                “Stop,” Jake says, pretending to be flustered, because that’s better than spiraling again, thinking too much about actually killing someone.

                “Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean war.”

                “Cold war.”

                “Different wars, same century.”

                “Not this one.”

                “Who are your friends?”

                “Payback.”

                “Fanboy.”

                Jake feels a swoop of recognition because those callsigns were in his phone, these people are going to become important enough to him for him to have them in his phone in the future. And they’ll have the same callsigns.

                “Hey Coyote.”

                “Hey.”

                Jake’s eyebrows shoot up, because that tone of voice tells him a story he hasn’t heard before. These two have a history, and it’s one that isn’t that far in the past and he shoots Javy a look, because he is dragging that story out of him kicking and screaming.

                “Who’s he?” Phoenix asks, and his attention is drawn away from his best friend and there’s another aviator sitting to the side eating peanuts and Jake blinks, doesn’t recognize him at all.

                “Who’s who?” Javy asks, Jake can tell he’s a little peeved Phoenix is no longer paying him attention, but Jake can direct this.

                “When did you get in?”

                “Oh, I’ve been here the whole time.”

                “The man’s a stealth pilot.”

                “Literally.”

                “Weapons systems officer, actually.”

                “With no sense of humor,” Jake adds, rolling his eyes.

                He leaves Phoenix setting up the table with Bob, indicates he’s going to leave them to their small talk and collect the free drinks and… Penny. He had dinner with her, and she’s Amelia’s mom, and he’s not met Amelia yet, but that witty, intelligent woman he knows he considers family, who he knows put herself in his phone as Best Person Ever…

                “Penny, my dear.”

                “Yeah.”

                “I’ll have four more on the old-timer,” Jake says, and as he studies the other guy more closely he would swear it’s Maverick. Bradley’s father-figure who he feels like he just had Sunday dinner with, along with Penny. Except this guy looks considerably younger, which he guesses makes sense and then he does a double take and looks at Penny. She’s looking at the guy, the maybe-Maverick like she’s not sure what to do about him and…

                Holy shit.

                If it is Maverick they aren’t together. Yet.

                He hears Phoenix yell out Bradshaw and he can’t stop his head whipping around to look. There’s Bradley, looking younger and just as gorgeous, wearing one of his shirts and his hair just short enough to be regulation still, watches with amusement as Phoenix proceeds to use the pool cue to hit Bradley in the balls, and he’s glad he’s not the only one she’s acerbic with. Well, she’s not with Coyote and that’s interesting. He glances at the guy he thinks is Maverick from the corner of his eye, he’s not making any move to go and talk to Bradley, so maybe it’s just another guy who looks a lot like him.

                “Here you go.”

                “Thank you. Much appreciated, pops,” Jake says, because it pays to be polite and he’s not totally convinced, can’t quite read the name, but can see the wings. He heads back to the others, stopping by the jukebox on the way, finds a song that he likes and then passes the beers around before steeling himself to see his… husband?

                “Bradshaw. As I live and breathe.”

                “Hangman. You look… good.”

                Amusement and arousal swoops through him, the beginning of this playful back-and-forth seeming familiar from his weird dream, and he grins.

                “Well, I am good, Rooster. I’m very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.”

                Part of him is thrilling inside, because this exchange feels familiar, like it’s right and the beginning of something, except instead of getting a grin Bradley is rolling his eyes and Jake’s gut clenches. Of course it’s not going to be that easy and his good mood immediately dissolves.

                “So…” Javy says, and Jake can almost hear the eye roll. “Anybody know what this special detachment is all about?”

                “No, mission’s a mission. They don’t confront me. What I want to know: Who’s gonna be team leader? And which one of y’all has what it takes to follow me?”

                “Hangman, the only place you’ll lead anyone is an early grave.”

                What the fuck? Jake stands up from where he’d been about to take a shot, anger flashing through him and

                “Ooooh.”

                “Well, anyone who follows you is just gonna run out of fuel. But that’s just you, ain’t it, Rooster? You’re snug on that perch, waiting for just the right moment… That never comes.”

                The moment between them stretches and the entire exchange leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, eyes stinging a little. He can’t believe he just said all that, just slipped back so easily into stripping pieces off the people around him. Of course, he’s not alone. He’d also forgotten what an asshole Bradshaw was.

                Being patient is going to be harder than he thought.

                He can’t tell Bradley he loves him, but god he wants to.

                “I love this song!” Jake says instead, stepping back and away and putting some much needed distance between them, well aware of the others all feeling the tension in the air which he just created.

                “Check it out,” Fanboy says, head jerking in the direction of the door and Jake watches as more naval aviators walk in.

                “More patches.”

                “That’s Harvard, Yale, Omaha. Shit, that’s Fritz.”

                “What the hell kind of mission is this?”

                “That’s not the question we should be asking,” Phoenix says, and her voice is tight. “Everyone here is the best there is. Who the hell are they gonna get to teach us?”

                His song stops mid-lyric and he glances up from his game, see Bradley heading towards the piano and then he looks across the bar at the person he thinks is maybe Maverick Mitchell, but Penny is calling him over and giving him and Javy the signal to throw him out, surely Penny wouldn’t throw her future husband out of her own bar?

                “Great to see you, Pete! Overboard!”

                Fuck. Definitely Pete Mitchell then.

                “Overboard! Overboard!”

                “Overboard! Overboard!”

                He’s committed to the act now, but his heart is pounding. This is definitely Bradley’s father figure. Not that they’ve even looked at each other in the Hard Deck just now. Penny had though, looked between them, and he has no idea what’s gone down between them all, but he’s wishing he asked more questions.

                “Thanks for the beers! Come back anytime!”

                Fuck.

                He just threw Pete Mitchell into the sand outside the Hard Deck.

…            …            …

                “Would you calm the fuck down?”

                “No. We just threw Captain Pete Maverick Mitchell out of the Hard Deck!”

                “Bullshit.”

                “Did you not see his patch? We are going to regret that.”

                “Yeah, sure. Okay. When it comes time to regret it you can tell me you told me so and rub my nose in it okay? But you still need to calm down.”

                Jake sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, because it’s not like he can actually un-do throwing Maverick out of the Hard Deck. The person he’s pretty sure is somehow going to be very important to his future.

…            …            …

                The next morning Jake is nervous, chews through three toothpicks before he’s even left base housing, Javy sick of his leg jiggling so much he refuses to sit next to him when they get to the weirdly laid out desks and chairs.

                “Attention on deck!”

                As Admiral Bates talks Jake chances a quick look back, grinning to himself as Phoenix takes the opportunity to flip him a subtle finger.

                “Half of you will make the cut. One of you will be named mission leader. The other half will remain in reserve.”

                He looks to Bradley and his gaze is met evenly and Jake so badly wants to just go over and kiss him or hold his hand or… anything other than sit here feeling the animosity coming off him in waves.

                “Your instructor is a Top Gun graduate with real-world experience in every mission aspect you will be expected to master. His exploits are legendary. He’s considered to be one of the finest pilots this program has ever produced. What he has to teach you may very well mean the difference between life and death. I give you Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick.”

                He turns back around quickly to Javy, mouths I told you so and then turns back to the front of the class.

…            …            …

                The way that Maverick talks makes him feel like his blood has bubbles in it. He’s never felt more alive than pushing his limits and he feels like even with their less than auspicious beginning he’s going to learn a lot. There’s no book learning involved, not for this mission, it’s all about flying a simulated course and dog fighting and learning to be one team. Well. He’s got all of that down, even if he’s not so great at showing the last one in practice.

                He can’t tell what Bradley and Maverick are saying to each other, but he can read enough of their body language to know that none of it is good. He doesn’t know what their history is, wishes he’d thought to ask, not that he thought he’d need to know it. Maybe he doesn’t need to know what it is, can just be there and… help? Fucked if he knows.

                He needs to be patient.

                That’s what Bradley had said to him, but Jake is feeling like he needs more information. Patient with time? Or patient with Bradley? Well, obviously with Bradley because he’s currently auditioning for world’s biggest asshole, but Jake needs to know if he can just… say something. Or maybe doing something is better. He’s always been a man of action.

                Then he’s listening to Maverick over the radio and he knows Maverick is good, but Jesus the man is cocky with it. He makes a comment about giving him an ego check and he hears someone mutter well you’d know and he ignores them. Then he’s up in the air and he abandons Phoenix and Bob only to get shot down himself and he hates losing like that, hates that it hadn’t panned out how he’d hoped and thought it would. The only albeit solace he can take from the exercise so far is that he’d heard Maverick say he was good. He’ll take it.

                He’s back up in the air, this time with Bradley and he looks across at him, knows everyone can hear them on the radio, but he needs to know and everyone thinks he’s an asshole anyway, so he can’t dig himself any deeper.

                “So, Rooster, mind if I ask you a personal question?”

                “Would it matter if I did?”

                “What’s the story with you and Maverick?” Jake asks, glad to finally get the words out, even though he expects he won’t get any type of useful answer right now. “It seems like he’s got you rattled.”

                “That’s none of your business. Now where the hell is he?”

                “Been here the whole time.”

                “Holy shit,” Jake says, watching as Maverick manoeuvres his plane smoothly around Bradley’s, like he’s mocking him and god he wants to fly like that.

                Then, as he watches someone he would normally consider calm and level headed turn completely feral he really needs to figure out what the fuck is going on. Their planes are spiralling together downwards and he’s heart is in his throat, cannot believe that either of them are being so damn stupid, doesn’t know if he’s even breathing as he watches, has a front row seat to what he is terrified might be carnage. Then Bradley is pulling up and away, playing it safe and the relief he feels is palpable. They’re both still alive. Then Maverick theoretically kills him and Bradley has to do another two hundred push ups and Jake doesn’t know what the fuck he should do.

                He can’t figure out what it could be, because the Bradley and Maverick he knows clearly loved each other, and these two can barely say hello without wanting to seemingly throw a punch. Hell. He thought Rooster had a problem with him, but it’s got nothing on whatever his issues with Maverick are. Be patient with me. God he wishes he’d asked more questions, knew more what to expect right now rather than just know he somehow gets a fairytale ending.

                If he in fact does get that ending and it wasn’t just some weird fever dream that somehow happened without the fever. Crazier things have happened. Probably.

…            …            …

                “Jake man, you can’t drink like this. Not with the mission as delicate as it is.”

                “I had one drink. One drink I really really needed.” You ever think about alternate timelines?”

                “No. What’s got you asking me that?”

                “Just… I had a weird dream.”

                “Dream?”

                “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t even know if I want it to be a dream or not anymore.”

                “Uh… you sure you’ve only just had the one drink?”    

…            …            …

                He sees the photo, Maverick alongside a man who looks like the spitting image of Bradley. Same last name. Holy shit. It has to be his father. Some things start to fall into place and it gives him a starting point and he does a little digging. Rooster’s dad died and he was in a plane piloted by Maverick. Fuck. Okay. That explains the anger and animosity. Except… how do they become friends or the family that he remembers them as? God he’s confused.

                He listens as Maverick talks them through the mission parameters, then they fly the simulated valley. He needs to be the fastest, the best, needs to go on this mission because Bradley is distracted and upset and in no fit state to give all his focus on completing the task ahead and surviving it. When Maverick drives it home that their choices and actions will kill their team members he doesn’t think much before he speaks and well… he knows he’s fucking it up as he talks, but if Bradley lives then he’ll live with his decisions to apparently blow up his entire fairytale ending.

                He doesn’t expect Bradley to come at him, feels his own fear and anger bubbling too close to the surface and he doesn’t know how to make it right.

                God he wants to make it right.

…            …            …

                He didn’t think his life could somehow take such a sharp nosedive in such a short period of time but apparently, he has angered several deities. He almost vomits when Javy goes into g-LOC, the only reason he doesn’t is because it’s all over too quickly, Maverick once again somehow pulling off the near-impossible and returning his best friend to him. He’ll need to find him and thank him, because there are currently very few people in his life who he feels know him, and Javy is pretty much it. Then the bird strike happens, he doesn’t say anything, just reaches over and grasps Bradley’s shoulder with his hand and tries not to feel the sting of rejection when it’s shrugged off.

…            …            …

                He’s left Javy at the hospital. Not because Javy needs the hospital, but he’s staying with Phoenix, his fingers laced with her while she’d laid in the bed looking at Javy with fucking cartoon heart eyes. He and Bob had exchanged commiserating looks, clearly feeling like the third and fourth wheels respectively. At least he could escape, seeking out Maverick to thank him for helping Javy. That’s why he overhears what Bradley says to Maverick. Fucking hell. He knew Bradshaw had issues, but the way he’s lashing out makes Jake wince. It makes what Bradshaw said to him at the Hard Deck seem like mild-teasing in comparison.

                This is meant to cut deep.

                Then there’s yelling and okay, maybe now is not a good time to thank Maverick for his actions, or to even try and talk with Bradley. At least he now knows why Bradley is so upset with Maverick, he suspects everyone in the building probably now knows. This seems all sorts of fucked up, and he thought his own family were bad. Then Warlock is standing behind him and he startles.

                “Lieutenant.”

                “Admiral Bates sir. I was just, uh, waiting for Bradshaw sir.”

                An eyebrow goes up and Jake shrugs helplessly, then Warlock is interrupting them and Jake can’t really parse what is happening, watches as Maverick suddenly seems to deflate, Bradley looks devastated and Jake missed what it was Warlock said exactly, too busy watching and trying to figure out if they were about to start swinging. Maverick leaves with Warlock, and he doesn’t understand why he’d leave Bradley behind, looking like his world has just fallen apart.

                “How much did you hear?” Bradley asks, his voice tight and clipped.

                “Uh… all of it? I think?”

                “Fuck.”

                “Yeah. Sorry. You need therapy man…”

                “Yeah. Probably,” Rooster says, the words coming out on a long exhale and Jake’s eyebrows shoot up at the easy acceptance, because he’d expected a punch, some verbal sparring at the very least, not this easy self-depreciating acceptance. Upon closer inspection it looks like Bradley is close to tears and god he feels like an asshole all over again.

                “I’m sorry by the way, for being an ass and bringing up your dad.”

                “Well, at least we can both agree on you being an ass.”

                “Well. I think you like my ass.”

                It slips out, the little flirty comment, and he has no excuse for it, not really. Fully expects Bradley to get angry again, to stand up and walk out, push past him and pretend he doesn’t exist all over again. Instead he hears a soft huff of amusement and when he chances a look, Bradley makes a face like he’s conceding that Jake may have a point.

                Holy shit.

                They sort of stand there just staring at each other and Jake’s starting to get turned on, the memory of Bradley looking at him like this, before taking him apart. Bradley doesn’t have those memories or visions or fantasies though, well, Jake doesn’t know what Bradley might fantasize about but he lives in ever increasing hope; the hope increasing by the second as the moment between them continues to stretch.

                “Do you ever feel like you can never live up to something, because it’s impossible. That you’re chasing a ghost?”

                “What?” Jake blinks, the sudden and abrupt change somewhat of a shock; he repeats Bradley’s words in his head. Okay. “Man, I had so many expectations on me. I ran in the opposite direction and took to the skies. No one was tying me to the ground…”

                “Yeah. No one tied me down either…”

                “Rooster...” Jake starts, because it’s obvious Bradley’s getting lost in his own mind. “Bradshaw...” Still no response. “Bradley...”

                That gets him eyes locked on him again and it’s still fucking intense and sad and he doesn’t know what’s got Bradley twisting up in on himself, but he can make a stab in the dark at least.

                “You almost lost Phoenix today. You're allowed to feel a little rattled.”

                Bradley pulls a face then, like he’s struggling with Jake being nice. And sure, Jake doesn’t usually leave his defenses down and wide-open like this, but he feels, no, knows, it could be worth it.

                “I'm sorry about making a joke about you leading people to an early grave...”

                Jake grimaces, because the comment had smarted. Not untrue given his younger and dumber days, but definitely untrue now. He’s also pretty sure Bradley owes Maverick an apology too, but he for sure as hell isn’t going to push that any time soon.

                “The world is not against you. I am not against you…” he adds quietly, because it’s true. Bradley is definitely studying him much more closely now, like he’s trying to figure out the angle Jake’s taking to cut him down and he can’t take back every bad word he’s said, but he can try not to say any more going forward. Patience. Right. Cause that’s always been one of his attributes people have listed when describing him. Fuck.

                “Yeah. I know it’s not. Just. Some days it’s really hard to believe that that’s not the case.”

                “You want to get out of here? Get some food?”

                Bradley blinks at him, but then nods once and then they’re walking toward the parking lot; Jake heeding toward the loaners but then Bradley is jerking his head toward his Bronco and Jake just goes with it. Doesn’t have any reason not to. The get food via drive-thru, Bradley relaying his order and then about fifteen minutes later Bradshaw’s pulling up in front of a little bungalow that seems trapped in time. He’s about to make a quip but snaps his mouth shut as he takes in the tight clench of Bradley’s jaw. Oh shit. This might be his parents’ place. That is… maybe not the healthiest thing to have held on for years but he’s not going to say anything, not when the civil moments between them are being counted in minutes rather than hours or days.

                He follows quietly and when he steps inside he can see why they got take-out, the kitchen is a demolition site, although a coffee maker and microwave have been set up on the small table in the dining room. Then he’s in the living room and there are photos of a much younger Bradley, Nick Bradshaw and someone who can only be Bradley’s mom. Bradley doesn’t seem older than thirteen or fourteen in any of the photos but there are also gaps on the shelves where he suspects there used to be photos. So definitely his parents’ place, but the fact he seems to be remodeling the kitchen make Jake feel slightly better about where Bradley’s headspace might be.

                Bradley gestures to the sofa and Jake grabs his takeout bag and lowers himself, knowing fully the only reason they’ve not argued with each other for the last forty-five minutes is because they haven’t said anything to each other. They eat in silence and he wonders why Bradley seems okay with him there, because it’s not like a simple apology has got him this far before. He pauses. Tries to remember if he’s actually ever apologized to Bradshaw before and oh… yeah. Fuck. That might do it.

                “So, uh, you want to share your world is against you story?”

                Bradley looks at him, lips twisted in distaste but Jake is pretty sure it’s about the potential topic of conversation rather than the fact that Jake just raised the potential of baring his soul to him. He’ll go first then.

                “You figured out my dad died. Well, then my mom died when I was twelve.”

                He’s figured as much, just from looking around at the photos.

                “I’m sorry.”

                “Yeah well. It is what it is right? Maverick is, was, my legal guardian. My godfather.”

                “Okay.” He hadn’t expected that.

                “And you heard me yelling at him before. He pulled my papers to USNA. I was legacy. My dad went.”

                Jake bites his lip, doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t want Bradley to stop talking.

                “Phoenix is my family,” Bradley offers, voice quiet, and the bird strike today hits different hearing that. Squadrons are close, like family, but aren’t family. If Bradley is saying she’s family, then she means more to him, like she’s a sister. “You’re right. Today rattled me. Then I found out that someone died, so feeling a little, uh, raw.”

                “Someone close?”

                The look Bradley gives him is inscrutable and Jake wonders when exactly he heard the news given that todays just seemed like one thing after another and he’s either been within spitting distance or on the radios. Bradley is taking his trash, scrunching it up and heading toward the kitchen. Jake would think he was being ignored or dismissed if it weren’t for the head jerk he gets, an indication he wants Jake to follow him.

                “Well, yeah. We were close I guess. I lived with him and his family when Mav was deployed. But he didn’t stop Mav from pulling my papers so I stopped talking to him too.”

                “Right. So. Regrets huh? Unfinished business?”

                “Yeah. Yeah you could say that,” Bradley says, and obviously unfinished business with a dead person is never going to get finished. But there’s still Maverick. If he’s made that connection, then Bradley sure as hell has. He doesn’t look happy about it though and he knows what he wants to do.

                “Come here man, you look like you need a hug.”

                The look Bradley gives him is incredulous, like he expects Jake to start laughing, but he reaches out with both arms and gestures with his hands for Bradley to step into the embrace. Just like that Bradley crumples, making himself small like the trash he just balled up and Jake wraps himself around him. For all he’s picking at Bradley issues right now, he's also feeling a little raw, hearing Coyote be in g-LOC was terrible, and the idea of holding someone tight, even if it isn’t his best friend, soothes something inside him.

                He doesn’t quite bully Bradley into bed, but he doesn’t give him very much choice. It also means Bradley doesn’t need to ask for what he might want or need right now, and Jake is pretty confident that what that is, is to not be alone. He can help with that. He borrows clothes and gets changed, insists on Bradley changing. Ignores the little sniping comments about he usually wears less clothes when he’s taking a guy to bed and Jake just smirks, tells him there’s always next time. As Bradley falls asleep in his arms he hopes like hell there is a next time, the feeling of sharing his space coming back to him as easy and automatically as breathing.

…            …            …

                The next morning, Bradley looks embarrassed. Jake tries to joke and shrug it off, make light of it despite the fact that his entire body and mind are finally felling like they’ve caught up and are synchronized together again. Bradley isn't letting him joke about it though, is looking at him with the same intense gaze he remembers from his weird dream.

                “Rooster? You okay?”

                “I like it when you call me Bradley...

                Then he's being crowded against the dining table, not in any way where he couldn't just step away, but he stays where he is, heart rabbiting away in his chest as Bradley closes the space between them, one hand reaching up to cup Jake's face.

                “Thank you for last night.”

                “I... Anytime. Think we both needed to... Not be alone.”

                The slow smile Bradley gives him is cut off when he moves even closer, too close for Jake to see his lips or face because he's being kissed, super softly and his lips tingle and itch as the pressure is removed and a simple press of lips shouldn't uproot his life like this, but he's wondering now, what he might need to do to get more kisses, to somehow make his dream a reality.

CHAPTER FOUR

[chocolatechubby]

Maybe it was the glass of heavy cream and dozen gingerbread men I ate just before bedtime. Or maybe it was the fact that it was Christmas Eve, and the residue of waiting up for Santa Claus hadn’t diminished in the 23 years since I was six years old. Maybe it was the hard on that wouldn’t go away if I thought about growing fat and round. Whatever it was, I couldn’t sleep. I reluctantly pulled my bloated body from my warm bed to take a piss and a crap in the bathroom. On the way to the john, I passed the Christmas tree in the living room. The shiny packages underneath danced with the reflections of twinkling lights. I’d made quite a haul this year. I was pretty sure the small neatly wrapped package in the front was an Ipod from my mom. And I was pretty sure that the envelope from my ex-partner was a membership to a gym. My gaining sixty pounds had a lot to do with our break-up. It was nice that we were still friends. “Funny…” I thought. “The thing I REALLY want Santa to bring me won’t fit under a tree.”

When I had finished in the bathroom, I took a long look at myself in the mirror. The 160lb gym rat was gone. There in front of me was a 220lb jock-gone-soft. Since I had continued to go to the gym, I was thick and solid. The roundness of my face was beginning to cut away my cheek definition. The beginnings of a double chin made my cock jump. The definition in my arms was beginning to fade: I loved putting on sleeveless shirts and seeing the thick round guns that were once defined biceps and triceps stretching through. My legs were growing huge. The size 38 pants were straining to keep my thighs in. And I had a real belly. Not the beginning gut I was so proud of in college, but a thick waist protruding over my jeans and a noticeable round mound that jutted out from my plump tits and curved forward six inches. It had gotten a number of rubs and stares from my co-workers over the past few weeks. I thought my pecker was going to fall off from all the jerking off I did in the office restrooms after each “Woah! When’s the baby due?” or “You’d better lay off the holiday food Chris!” But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I wanted to look like all of those fellas that I admired online. I wanted people to move out of the way when I walked down the street. I wanted to look in the mirror and be awed by my girth. I reached down in my shorts and began massaging my cock. I imagined what it would be like to have to work pass mounds of belly fat just to touch it. I could feel my hard on growing, and my dick was responding to both my touch and my fantasy. It wouldn’t be long now—at least not for the explosion from my balls. The weight gain would take more time.

As I was going for climax, I heard a sound. Not from me but coming from the living room. At first faint, it grew louder—a slow and steady rise and fall. A snore? It sounded like someone snoring. Maybe somehow the air conditioner had turned itself on. I listened a little more intently. No, this was a HUMAN sound. Someone had broken into my apartment! I pulled up my shorts, looked around for a blunt object, grabbed the toilet brush, and headed towards the sound. As I rounded the corner, I was not prepared for what I saw. There in my leather armchair next to the Christmas tree, snoring to high heaven was Santa Claus.

Only it wasn’t Santa Claus. I mean he was dressed in a beautiful red suit—far superior to all those costumed Santas that you see in department stores. This suit looked like it had been tailored for him: luxurious and warm—trimmed in ermine and leather. It fit his big round frame to a “t.” He had to weigh 350, if a pound, and his thick beard was close-cropped, neatly trimmed, and a deep auburn like the wavy hair that curled from under his fur cap. This guy couldn’t have been more than thirty-five years old. And he was gorgeous. During my whole relationship with my ex, Zach, I had never cheated. But I will admit—especially towards the end when he started nagging more about the weight—I had serious fantasies about dudes like the one asleep in my easy chair, but they never included being robbed by them.

Next to him on the floor was a big, empty red velvet sack. I had to admit: this guy had class. I’d read stories in the newspaper about thieves breaking into houses dressed as Santa Claus and taking people’s presents. I never thought it would happen to me. Pictures of the Grinch stuffing Cindy Lou Who’s Christmas tree in his sack crowded my brain. Well this sucker wasn’t getting MY Ipod without a fight!

I tiptoed over to where the hot thief was snoring, and I kicked his engineer boot and stepped back—toilet bowl brush held high. “Hey you!” I shouted. The guy stirred. I gave him my best grimace and said: “What the hell do you think you’re doing in my place?!” He opened one eye and peered up at my brush and me. He grinned (and of course he had a killer smile) and said, “What are you going to do? Tidy Bowl me to death?”

I wasn’t quite ready for such a laid-back attitude. It took me aback for a moment. “No, smart ass…” I answered finally. “… I’m going to call the police and have you hauled off to spend Christmas in jail—that’s what I’m going to do!!!” I bellowed triumphantly. “Oh, and for future reference: Santa has a WHITE beard—not red! You are NO Kris Kringle.”

“Actually, his beard isn’t white. It’s silver. And you’re right…I’m not Kris Kringle. He’s my dad. I’m KARL Kringle—his youngest son.”

Of all the responses in all the scenarios that I could imagine, not one of them included that particular statement. I stood in shock with my mouth open. He fumbled around for a bit and spoke: “This is what I get for breaking the first rule of Christmas Delivery: Don’t Fall Asleep. It’s just that it’s been a long night and seeing as this is my Last Stop and all, I couldn’t help myself.” He yawned and started hauling his big belly out of my chair “Look, don’t set off your loaded brush—I’m just looking for my wallet.” He was even more appealing standing. He was a fireplug: about my height (which made him somewhat short), he reminded me of Sean Astin as Samwise Gamgee in “The Lord of the Rings”: much bigger, but as cute as he could be. He patted himself down, searching around his big gut and barrel chest for a bulge. “Ahh, here it is!” He pulled out a simple leather wallet and flipped it open. “See.” He said.

I slowly inched forward and took the wallet out of his chubby hand. There he was, smiling with rosy cheeks. NORTH POLE DMV: Driver’s Permit was printed in white at the top of a red and green card. “May operate cars, trucks, motorcycles, snow skis and High-Capacity Sleighs” was prominently placed in the lower right hand corner.

“Real cute” I smirked. “So you’re a clever bandit. I’m sure your cell mate will get a real kick out of your sense of humor.”

“Man, some things don’t change, do they?” He smiled. “You’re still a closet believer posing as a skeptic aren’t you? I remember when you were six years old and wanted ‘Dream Date Ken’. You said to yourself, ‘I’ll believe in Santa if he brings me Ken.’ When you didn’t see it under the tree that Christmas morning, you were really sad, but you said, ‘I knew he wasn’t real.’ Boy were you surprised when you found it…”

“Hidden in your stocking!”

“Hidden in my stocking!”

We said it at the exact same time. My mouth was agape. “How did you know that?” I uttered. “Because I asked Dad if I could put it there.” Karl said. “I was twelve. Dad had been training me to take a route of my own. I had been coming with him since you were a baby—watching you grow up. I wanted you to work harder to trust your beliefs.”

I stumbled to my couch and sat down. This was incredible! So it was true: Santa really DID exist. “Yup.” Karl said, as if he’d read my mind. “Only the doubters have got part of the story right: he DOESN’T circle the world and deliver toys in one night. He hasn’t done that in a few hundred years. He has help from his sons.”

“Sons” I gasped, with emphasis on the “s.” “You mean there’s more of you?”

“Oh yeah” said Karl. “It's the family business. There’s Kris Jr., Kevin, Kurt, Klaus, Kyle, Keith, and Kwame.”

“Kwame?” I asked.

“Yeah, a little incident with dad and an African Queen a few years back…we don’t talk about that.” He whispered.

“So we divide up the earth and each take a chunk. Dad spends most of his time these days with the kids that need him most. He took India and New Orleans this year.”

“I see…” I said. “And you got my area.”

“Well, not so much GOT, as CHOSE your area. I told you. I’ve been watching you for many years. I’ve been waiting for that jerk of a boyfriend of yours to exit the picture. I’ve been crushing on you for a while now. I happen to be gay.”

“Oh.” My dick was jumping at regular intervals now. “Are all of you uh…?”

“Gay?” He said. “I doubt it. Nobody’s talking so we don’t really know. I’m pretty sure Kwame is. He keeps picking San Francisco as one of his stops. Listen, do you mind if I make myself comfortable?” he asked. “Uh…no.” I stammered, still trying to make sense of the fact that I had a big, bearded Santa Claus in my living room that was hot for me. “Great” he said and proceeded to undo his belt and buttons. His velvet coat fell to the floor, revealing the magnificent fat physique bulging from his white undershirt. His big, gorgeous arms were covered with a layer of soft red fur, and I could see tendrils of the same curling from under the neckline of his t. He began playing with his nipples as he slowly moved his ball belly towards me. “Listen,” he said again. “…do you mind if I make YOU more comfortable?”

“Uh…no.” was my startled reply.

We stood face to face. The heat between us was more intense than anything I’d ever felt before. He smelled of smoldering fires and apples and cinnamon. He leaned in, and I felt his cock. “So THAT’S what’s meant by Christmas Sausage! “I thought. He pulled me into him and whispered, “I’ve been waiting 29 years for this” and moved his tongue over my lips and into my mouth. He tasted like warm cocoa. His belly met mine and I moaned at the solid thickness of his girth. Our tongues swirled together in a hot dance that left me weak and energized at the same time. I could have stayed like that forever.

Karl ran his thick hands over my nipples, slightly squeezing them between his fingers. He slowly traveled down to my belly and began massaging it with both hands. I was in heaven. “Such a beautiful starter belly. I was so hot for you when you started putting on weight that I had to stop working in the toyshop—couldn’t concentrate. Kept making Barbie dolls with penises!”

“Oh.” I mumbled—trying to get his tongue back in my mouth.

“And now I’m with you” he said, caressing my cheek. “And we’ve got all night. He leaned over and kissed my gut. “I’m going to give you that present that won’t fit under the tree.”

For a moment I was stirred from my reverie. Had he really the power to know what my deepest desires were? I tested him. “Oh yes? “I whispered in his ear. “What might that be.”

“Don’t be coy Chris” he smiled. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. By dawn, you will be fed, fucked, and fat as a house. Are you ready to get started?”

TO BE CONTINUED

[1u11ablues]

Repentance (Phillip Graves x Fem Reader)

WC: 2.4k

Warnings: Smut(Soft), begging, slight groveling, kneeling, mild lover's argument. (Suggestive picture under see more)

Phillip comes home late, so he had to endure his punishment.

If there’s one thing Phillip won’t admit to his Shadows over team drinking nights, is that he’s just another fella smitten with his woman.

Yes, they knew he was in a relationship. And he left it at that.

Who wants to hear a man singing about his lady over what was technically a boy’s night?

But you had this rule for his night outs.

“If it’s past three and you ain’t home,” you warned him, “then sleep outside.”

See, he gets a little forgetful when he’s had a little too much in his system. And since today was one of his Shadow’s birthday, and multiple rounds were ordered along with entertainment in the form of competitive team dart session-

It slipped his mind. It really did.

He groaned as he looked at the time on his phone—a brand-new crack on the screen when he’d slipped on spilled beer and fell on his shins.

“I’m a dead man,” he whispered before entering.

Now, he knew he wasn’t supposed to be home, especially with the smell of alcohol wafting out of him. You hated that, so he would have to take the couch for the night after he showered and scrubbed himself clean. 

Thank the Lord for those two glasses of water he’d downed at the end of the night that made it even possible for him to do so.

His steps measured light. Even lighter than when he was sneaking behind an enemy.

Taking a quick glance at the sight of you on the bed while he was on the way to the bathroom, he knew just how much he’d fucked up by the looks of it.

There lay his missus with full-on pajamas, a cartoon print shirt and long pajama pants. A battle armor, if he had a say in it.

When did you even get those? He knew your wardrobe like the back of his hand. Knew the fancy silks and satins and its comfier, also equally luxurious counterparts’ cashmere and wool pajama sets. He knew, because he’d bought them for you. Strode into the store right behind you and let you pick them up yourself!

This wasn’t part of those trips, at least if memory serves him well.

So Phillip showered. Paused for a moment when he feels his guts coming up to greet the bathroom floor, but saved by his quick run to the toilet bowl.

Afterwards, he feels much, much better. Physically, only.

There’s the guilt niggling at the back of his head as he trails a longing gaze at you.

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.

How did he get here, his lips kissing the back of your neck? Arms, pulling you in by the waist?

Some people are sad drunks. Some, happy. 

He never hid from you that he was of the horny category.

“Baby,” he opens with affection to dull the impact of his mistake, “I’m back and I need you.”

No way you��re even up past eleven to know how late he returned from his night, is there?

“What time did you come home?”

Okay, he should’ve expected that.

“Late, honey. I’m sorry. Was having too much fun, we’re celebrating a birthday-“

“I didn’t ask for details.”

He sighed. He’s surely sleeping his hangover off on the couch today.

“Five. Sorry.”

“So you broke your promise. What next? Breaking this one too?” You raise your hand up, flashing the engagement ring he’d gotten you a couple months ago.

This time, his voice was firm.

“No, no way. I’m not taking that back, nor am I breaking it. Not that. Are you serious?”

A roll of your eyes tells him you’re not.

“So you’re here, feeling me up, when I specifically told you not to bother coming home after three?”

From his position behind you, he raised your left hand up to his lips, kissing every single finger, paying extra attention to the one with the ring. 

“I’m only a man, honey. I would choose to face your anger over your absence time and time again.”

“God, you’re so lucky that I am in love with you.”

He afforded a smile hidden by the flesh of your shoulder. This was the first time in a while that he’d come home later than he was supposed to, so he’s not too worried about the consequences. He’d been good so far. For you.

“Any punishment, I’ll take it with grace.”

***

He’s starting to regret saying that now. 

How could you and your pretty little head even come up with this torture?

Phillip knelt on the floor by the edge of the bed, his cock hard on display atop the duvet while you…you-

The pink vibrator pulsed on your clit, pussy spasming at every delicious contact—and he’s only able to watch.

He’s on his knees, his hand clasped behind his body, and he can only watch!

“Please, sweetheart, at least let me touch you,” he strained, muscles tensed more so to keep his restraints as per your request.

You and your ideas. His smart girl, if only he was not on the other side of it, he would be singing his praise.

But his cock only managed to twitch uselessly, wailing for the chance to be inside you as he watches you pleasure yourself right in front of him. Painting the duvet with strands of pre-cum that he couldn’t help but leak.

“It wouldn’t be a punishment if your hands are on me, Phillip. I know how you get after even two bottles of beer. I know, because they were usually the best fucking of my life—and I know not being able to do that is enough to make sure you keep to any promises you had made. How hard is it to text me and tell me you won’t be home by the time you promised to be home? I would’ve given you leeway if you had explained before.”

How in hell is this painful, yet so fucking hot?

To hear you tell him off like some sort of head principal while your pretty pussy cries in front of him. Oh, Jesus. He had half a mind to ask for private detention then and there.

“Yes, I get it now. Honey, please. Let me kiss you, at least. On both lips.” Because he’d be damned if his mouth isn’t out there lapping up all the arousal syruping down your thighs right this moment.

“No. Stay in position and take your punishment.”

His knees started to hurt, so he spread his thighs to take on a much lower, relaxed stance to help with it.

“What’s wrong, honey? Is it too much for you?”

He shakes his head. There is no way in hell he would want this to stop. If he knew you, he knew you didn’t mean to stop like he meant it.

No, you will actually stop everything and let the heat of the moment low to a simmer until it ends.

“I can take it. I just wish there’s something I can do with my cock…” he trailed off with his most pleading tone, a request laced within it that he hoped you could read.

“Fine. You want to touch yourself so bad? Do it.”

He straightened as you gave your permission, his length notched between the double mattresses layered on top of the bed base. Once upon a time, his girlfriend complained about his firm mattress. He went out the next day to get a softer one for her, and the rest is history.

“But,” you added, deflating with a single word, “if you do, you’ll have to say goodbye to fucking me for the rest of the day.”

An annoyed groan left him on instinct.

“I have given my lady too much power for her own good,” he muttered with mock regret, dramatizing the low shake of his head.

He was just about to go back to his kneeling position when he realized the predicament his cock was in.

You weren’t the only one with brilliant ideas.

He pushed his aching cock into the slit in between the mattresses.

“Fuck,” he accidentally moaned at the tightness. It was a far cry from a woman’s warmth, but he’s a man three days into an excursion in a dry desert.

Upon your narrowed stare, he placated.

“Hey, I’m not touching myself. Hands off. The mattresses just happened to be there when I needed it.”

After a moment of pause, the vibrator in your hold came to life again. A silent permission for him to go on.

So he thrusted. God, it feels so good then, when the need for pleasure overrode any other senses of his.

“You’ll chafe your cock,” you warned, but he did not care. You’re still making no move and said nothing to let him know that you wanted him inside you, so he was making do.

And if he chafes? Well, maybe that was his punishment.

“I can’t help it, honey. I’m so fucking horny, and you won’t let me touch you. See what you’ve done to me? Reduced me to a bed fucker.”

He pumped his hips slowly, savoring the contact with his cock. Imagining it was your pussy he was in, letting your distant moans guide his pace and rhythm. When you started to breathe shallow, he quickened, when you relaxed, he slowed.

And, pretty soon, his balls started to tighten.

But he would not have his climax be wasted into stuffed fabric. It wouldn’t be a very satisfying release, would it?

“I’m close, honey. I’m so close.”

His hips stuttered, but it didn’t stop.

“And?”

“At least share my orgasm with me. My beautiful, kind, wife-to-be. Did I mention kind? Cause I can whip out the thesaurus if that doesn’t satisfy you.”

It got a giggle out of you. If anything, at least he could hear that; a replacement for your sulking mood. He’d count that as a success.

You took your time. A click of the vibrator. Its hum no longer pestered his hearing. He’d watched you come at least three times in the duration of his punishment. Will you cease now? Love him back again?

You waddled on your knees to where he is, breasts staring him right in the eyes. 

No man would stop himself from looking.

He leaned in, eyes monitoring you for rejection, and when none crossed it, took the swell of you into his mouth. Kissing it to color, nipping at the nipple perking out at the attention, smiling like a goof as if he was taking a hit of something just at the precipice of a bad withdrawal.

Of your own accord, you dangle your leg from the bed right in front of him, lying down on the pillow he’d scoot under your back.

But, no. He hadn’t apologized quite enough.

Without minding the way his cock was positioned perfectly at your entrance now, he leaned down to kiss you. Everywhere he could reach. Your eyelids, temple, earlobes and the skin underneath it. The crown of your head, in between your eyebrows.

Muttering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” in between the kisses.

When your giggle relieved his heart enough, he pushed in. A gasp replaced your laugh.

He lets you hang on to his arms as he begins with a comfortable pace. Deep, to remind his cock of your warmth, paying attention to the sounds you make throughout it. Back, forth, the thrust back into you, a slap echoing in the room until your clit started to swell again, signaling that you’ve come down from your most recent orgasm and read for more.

“Am I forgiven?” A thrust. “Do you forgive me, baby?” Another.

You whined and nodded, facial expression carouselling between that of giddy happiness and of the bliss of pleasure, like you weren’t able to control yourself.

“Yes, you’re forgiven. If you promise not to repeat it,” your voice breathy as you replied. He could feel the sting of your nails surrounding his biceps, and God did that made him harder.

Faster. He’s already so close, but he wanted to hear it from you. How his punishment had earned him repentance. With his hands settling on your waist, he abandoned the depth of his strokes for speed, though not enough for it to not tear the little moans out from you, still.

What a gift for him to be able to hear them every day, and how it urged him to learn—and learn fast—about you, just so he would know what to pull to please you.

Maybe today wasn’t his best day. Humans make their mistakes. But, he thinks himself above average than that of the majority—his title and accomplishments so far in life are proof of it—and therefore strived to do his best in all other aspects of his life. 

The happiness of his lady wasn’t something he’s willing to compromise on.

“Promise,” his pace turned uneven. Droplets of sweat from his forehead fell onto your chest, to which he licked them off you.

He loosened his arms around your waist just to pay attention to your pretty clit, a fast rub left to right slippery enough for his thumb to stray away from it with every stroke. But he righted his position and try again.

His only tell of when you were about to come is the loud double exhale before your back arched off the bed, clamping his cock tight and fuck, amping up the sensation of fucking you.

Usually, your orgasm prompted this. Alas, he’s just an average man in this area of intimacy. The sounds, the pulsating, and damn, the hazy smile up as your hands come up to cradle your breasts up in some sort of satisfied self-hug-

“Fuck, honey-“

Phillip’s glutes tightened as it paused. He couldn’t thrust through his orgasm. Instead, he pressed deep into you and flooded you with his cum, a gush that soon wrapped back around his cock and stained it white when he eventually pulled out of you.

As soon as he slumped, head resting on your chest to take a breather, your thighs come up to hug around his waist. His eyes shut when your fingers carded through his hair to play with it. Wiping off the sweat with your palms before they could fall into his eyes.

Promise, he thought to himself. Through thickness and thin.