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milksnake-tea · 4 months ago

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✩ CHAPTER SUMMARY : Firefly and Silver Wolf return from Penacony, bringing souvenirs of all kinds alongside them.

✩ SERIES SYNOPSIS : Following the catastrophe of the Charmony Festival, rather than in one of Penacony's hospitals or prisons, Sunday awakens right in the base of one of the most notorious criminals in the galaxies. With nowhere else to go, he's left to follow you, the Stellaron Hunters' medic, in his attempts to become accustomed to his new life.

✩ WORD COUNT : 6.3k

✩ TAGLIST : @vynicity , @vxnuslogy, @https-mika, @greyrain23, @red-ninja15, @arienic , @immahuman , @sund4ykisser , @mysteriaqueen , @kiopanxp , @isa-l0v3r , @hesper-houkai-kat , @gamekillera , @nayukiyukihira , @randomidk-123 , @universetrash , @forevernyeong , @thedepartedcryptid , @heyhazelnut101 , @1000-leaves , @lowkeyren , @zhayur , @jellofishuu , @kascar-chronicle , @azaleaflowerr , @neigee , @fallintothechasm , @veritusratio , @astolary , @xphantasmagoriax , @semi-orangeapple , @ezra1yn , @xynthevoid , @apinu , @crysangria , @shenwi , @louchive , @mave-in , @mutiachan , @meerpea , @tetrxctys , @emiken-070907 ( send me an ask off anon if you want to be added !! remember to specify that it is for this series )

✩ ADDITIONAL NOTES : mentions of alcoholism in this chapter !! also check out the tags, i've added something that needs to be looked at but tldr the reader will be dealing with themes of alcoholism, addiction, escapism, and survivor's guilt. it'll be tackled in later chapters, but just putting that as a warning now! sunday's pfp art is by @/thotep

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Weeks have passed since Sunday had first arrived at the Delphi.

With Silver Wolf and Firefly busy with their mission on Penacony, life is relatively mundane. If you don’t have a script to fulfill, then Elio lets you run free to do whatever your heart desires - ironic, considering the nature of your work.

Every Hunter has their own way of passing the time between scripts. Kafka often goes shopping for fancy dresses or yet another velvet coat to add to her increasing collection of them. Silver Wolf, on the other hand, shrinks away from the real world and into the comfort of her room to game - you know this because her room’s right next to yours, so you can hear whether or not she wins or loses.

Firefly never spends too long on the Delphi; rather, she takes up her suit and flies off to visit nearby planets, eager to experience their wonders as any normal tourist would. As for Blade, he sulks off into the training rooms, either sharpening his sword or perfecting his technique.

But what about you? What do you do in these torturously boring times? What is your way of keeping yourself entertained?

Drinking. It’s drinking.

Because apparently making candy-flavored drugs isn’t bad enough.

Simple piano played in the background of the Delphi’s bar, where it came from you’ve long given up on trying to figure out. Golden lights hanging from the ceiling clash against chestnut wood, filling the bar with a hazy, warm color.

You’re alone in the bar, sitting laxly in one of the many stools that line the countertop. Lazily, you spin a jigger in your hands, absentmindedly adding and shaking and tossing until you’re left with a clear, peach-tinted cocktail topped with creamy white foam and mint leaves.

The drink is known as a White Sand, a cocktail you discovered when visiting a tropical planet known for its tourism. You’re still new to mixology, preferring to just drink wine straight from the bottle, but you can’t deny that trying out different combinations of recipes, some delicious and others diabolical, is a surprisingly great way of passing the time.

Just as you’re about to take a sip of your drink, your phone dings. You’re tempted to ignore it, but after the second, third, and consequential pings, you begrudgingly take it out with a sigh.

You roll your eyes a bit despite the smile on your face. Drinking your cocktail with a little more spite this time, you type out a response.

Spinning around on the stool, you uncross your legs and, taking your drink with you, make your way to the training room. Thankfully, the walk isn’t too long - just an elevator ride down and after a few minutes of walking through the facilities, you’ve arrived.

You take a deep breath as you come to the doors of the training rooms, mentally preparing yourself for what was to come. Just to be safe, you summon your sword in your dominant hand and hold your cocktail in the other.

Your sword isn’t anything impressive when compared to the others’ - it isn’t as flashy as Silver Wolf’s or Firefly’s, nor is it as intimidating as Blade’s. It supports a simple yet elegant design, and it’s thin, tapering to a sharp point.

But what makes it unique are the bright veins that run through it, filled with a deadly poison that you’ve personally curated through testing and researching natural poisons found across the stellar seas. Just one graze or prick of your blade, and your victim becomes paralyzed within seconds, dead with a few more.

Normally, you wouldn’t bring it out - you prefer your rifle and bayonet over your sword - but what lay behind these doors required a little more agility than what could be accomplished with one hand and a rifle.

With a sigh, you step through the doors and brace for impact.

“[Name]-?” Sunday looks behind him as you enter, only to curse and bring up his rapier as Blade lunges at him once more. It’s a fatal mistake, being distracted in the middle of a fight, and Sunday learns this the hard way when he’s caught off balance (rapiers are NOT good at blocking, especially if you’re a beginner) and Blade mercilessly drives a kick into his stomach.

You narrowly jump out of the way as Sunday flies past you and into the wall with a crash.

“Don’t let your focus wander.” Blade barely finishes speaking before he lunges at Sunday again with a swing of his broken blade.

See, you’re technically supposed to break up the fight and tell them of Firefly’s message. Technically.

But you kind of want to see where this goes.

And so you lean back against the wall, swirling your drink idly and watch the show without lifting a finger to help Sunday.

Sunday manages to dodge Blade’s attack, which is better than when you saw him a few weeks ago. Last you saw him, he was getting beat left and right both physically and mentally (Blade does not know what sugarcoating is).

See, as of late, Blade’s taken up a new hobby to entertain himself - that being training the newbie in the ways of combat. While it’s arguably true that Blade is the best suited for this (Kafka is Kafka, Silver Wolf can’t be bothered, Firefly doesn’t know what’s within a normal person’s capabilities, and you would treat it like a chore), his methods are… less than ideal.

Basically, he teaches you the basics for the first two weeks, and then makes you fight to the death against him until you get better not because you want to, but because you have to if you want to live.

You know this, because you went through this too. So did Silver Wolf. Firefly didn’t have to because one, she was already a capable warrior and two, she’s Blade’s senior, as weird as it sounds.

For the most part, Sunday seems to be doing relatively well, being able to parry, dodge, and attack the best he can. Obviously, he’s unable to land a hit on Blade (it would be impressive if he did), but being able to hold his own is more than enough.

The rapier he wields is a gift from his master. Although Blade can no longer craft weapons as he used to, his eye is still as sharp as ever. The rapier itself is an elegant thing, sporting a silver handle with a sapphire embedded near the handguard. It still holds considerable weight, but is light enough so that Sunday can wield it despite not having any prior training.

Every so often, the Halovian’s halo glows, indicating a mental attack of some kind. But the glow is faint, meaning that it isn’t anything that could seriously debilitate Blade, who is especially sensitive to attacks regarding the mind.

You smile to yourself. Always thinking of others, wasn’t he?

The mental attack creates only a momentary stagger in Blade’s movements, a brief falter, but Sunday seizes the chance. His wings, which have gotten stronger with every visit to your office, flare out in a cape of night. He still can’t fly, but they’re strong enough to propel him out of Blade’s range.

His wings tuck, and he strikes his rapier again, but this time it isn’t with the intent of piercing Blade with his sword. Instead, his halo glows stronger, and small staffs of music shoot like miniature missiles at Blade.

Of course, Blade slashes through each music note easily. Even as Sunday conducts his personal choir with his rapier as his baton, there’s still a slight tremble in his hand, still not fully used to the weight of the rapier.

Not only that, you notice, the staffs aren’t exactly strong either. They waver, and they’re thin, as if one pull of your finger could break them into ribbons.

Your phone dings again, reminding you of why you were here in the first place.

Right. You’re supposed to stop them. How many minutes has it been? At least two.

You gulp down the rest of your cocktail (there wasn’t much left), relishing the taste for just a moment before you lunge and intercept Blade’s attack. Your sword meets Blade’s in a flurry of sparks. You grunt, planting your feet on the ground and push off, throwing Blade off of you and forcing him to skid back.

Blade is less than pleased by your interruption despite expecting it. You can see that he’s half a mind to turn the training onto you. Before he can try anything, you point your sword at him, stopping him with a warning look.

“Sorry, but class is going to have to end early today.” You twirl your sword mindlessly in your hand before summoning it back into your inventory. “The girls are coming back from Penacony, and Firefly wants us in the living room in ten. And before you ask, if I have to go, so do you.”

The last part is directed at Blade, who grumbles in response.

“Fine.”

His sword disappears from his hands as he straightens. You almost don’t catch Sunday sighing in relief behind you. A laugh bubbles in your chest as you turn to him, crossing your arms.

“Old man’s been hard on you, hasn’t he?”

Sunday sighs, rolling back his shoulders as his rapier dissolves into nothing.

“I should be used to it by now,” he admits, “but Blade’s teaching style is more erratic than what I’m used to.”

“You’re getting better, though. At least you can actually hold the rapier now.”

Sunday chuckles. “That’s true. It doesn’t feel as heavy anymore; I suppose I’ve gotten stronger.”

“You sure have.” You look him up and down.

He’s wearing a long-sleeve compression shirt and simple joggers so as not to ruin his other clothes with the sweat and tear that comes with Blade’s training sessions. His body is still relatively slender like it was when he first came to the base, but you can see hints of his labor beginning to bear its fruits. His arms are definitely more toned, and while he still predominantly wears gloves, you spy a callus on one of his right hand’s forefingers.

Ever since he’d first stretched his wings, it was as if a light had returned to his eyes. He is still reserved, still quiet to a degree, but his presence has become brighter, in a sense. You see it in the tiniest changes - the lift of his eyes, the genuine crinkle in his smile, the gradual relaxation of his shoulders.

In your opinion, he’s never looked better.

Then again, your only visuals of him prior to now were when he was at his lowest, so maybe it wasn’t a good comparison.

You realize you’ve been staring for longer than what’s socially acceptable. Meeting Sunday’s confused smile, you playfully stick your tongue out before waving him off.

“Don’t just stand there. Go wash up and change, you smell.”

Sunday blinks. “I do?”

The genuine worry in his voice almost makes you feel bad. In an effort to make him feel better, you pat his head in two heavy movements, earning a high-pitched squeak with each pat.

“I’m just messing with you,” you tease, ruffling his feather-like hair before finally releasing him. Sunday huffs, slightly puffing out his cheeks as he immediately starts fixing his hair. He reminds you of a baby bird.

Resummoning your wine glass, which you had put away before intervening in the spar, you pull out a vintage wine bottle from nowhere and pour out some red wine. Sunday wrinkles his nose.

“Drinking again, I see,” he sighs. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?”

“For you, it is,” you say, throwing the wine bottle back into your inventory. “I, however, am not like you.”

“You’re destroying your liver.”

“My liver can handle it. Ask Blade, he knows. Isn’t that right, Blade?”

“Don’t bring me into this,” mutters Blade, in the middle of changing back into his normal clothes. You shrug.

“See? He didn’t deny it.”

Sunday crosses his arms. “He didn’t confirm it either. [Name], I cannot in good faith let you go on about this self-destructive path-”

“And on that note, I should get going,” you cut him off, pointedly ignoring the look he gives you. But before Sunday can start up his thirty-minute lecture, you’re already turning your heel and walking off with a cheeky wave. “See you up top!”

“Hey-!” Sunday shakes his head as you saunter out the doors, pressing a hand to his forehead. He already feels a migraine forming. “What am I going to do with them…”

Blade hums sympathetically, wordlessly offering Sunday a bottle of water and a towel, which he accepts gratefully.

“Don’t bother,” says Blade, looking at the doors where you’ve just left through. “They’ve always been like that. Trying to reason with them is fruitless.”

Sunday turns his head slightly to glance at Blade, his brow creased with worry.

“Still, this habit of theirs…”

Blade sighs. “It may look bad to you, but trust me. This is better than what they were doing before. At least with alcohol, their body can recover quickly.”

“What do you mean by that?” Sunday turns fully to face the other Hunter. “Surely, alcoholism can’t be a better alternative.”

For a long, heavy moment, Blade merely stares at him silently, waiting for him to come to his own conclusion. The air turns suffocating the longer the silence drags on, but Sunday endures. He meets Blade’s gaze calmly, and waits.

It isn’t too long before Blade relents. Maybe it’s because they have an appointment soon, or maybe he doesn’t feel like playing mind games with Sunday - or both.

“Have you ever seen them get alcohol poisoning?” he finally says, a little breath to his voice like a sigh.

Sunday blinks, caught off guard by the question. “No, but-”

“There’s your answer.” Blade begins to walk off. Before he disappears, he glances back. “Save your concern. Don’t pry where you aren’t welcome.”

The doors slide shut, leaving Sunday alone with the echo of the Hunter’s words. He squeezes the bottle tightly.

Don’t concern yourself, huh?

How could he not? In Penacony, his ears were meant for hearing the woes of his kin, and his heart forever cut to bleed for them. Sympathy is carved into his skin; it was second nature to him already.

But he remembers that moment in your office, the sudden coldness that came with an attempt of sympathy. And he remembers that he isn’t on Penacony anymore.

His eyes shut, a sigh escaping him. His wings tremble restlessly, referencing his thoughts.

Sunday opens one dark wing, and flaps it.

It’s frustrating, constantly being told to sit still and mind his own business. You’ve already helped him so much, but whenever he tries to do something for you, whether it be small, such as helping out with a chore or something more serious like this, he’s always shut down.

He feels useless, like a leech or a freeloader. All he’s done is take and take and take, unable to give.

He buries his face in the towel Blade gave him with a groan.

He hates it.

He should be doing more - he should be more.

“Still here, I see.”

Sunday flinches. He looks around wildly for the source of the voice, but he sees no one. Was he already beginning to hallucinate? He shouldn’t be, he was sleeping enough thanks to your medicine, but maybe four hours a night still wasn’t enough-

“No need to panic. I’m down here.”

Sitting at the foot of the doors is a familiar black cat with familiarly unnatural blue eyes.

Sunday relaxes. “Ah, Elio.”

Out of respect, he bows to his leader. The Destiny of Slave tilts his head, soundlessly leaping onto a nearby bench.

Sunday tries his best not to be unnerved by his gaze, but he can’t help it. Despite being on the Delphi for a little more than a month now, he’s rarely seen Elio, and as such hasn’t gotten used to his piercing eyes.

A small surprised sound leaves him as Elio jumps onto his shoulder, perching himself on him snugly. The seer’s back brushes against his wings as he readjusts himself.

“What addles your mind?” Elio asks. Sunday wants to lean away from him, but it’s impossible with the seer on his shoulder. “Firefly will be arriving in two system minutes. You will be late.”

Right, the meeting- meeting.

Sunday’s mind jumps at the word, dragged back into its own habits. Late, late- he can’t be late, that is unbecoming of someone like him, shouldn’t he know better? Instead he wasted time by asking useless questions- Stop thinking, stop thinking, you’re taking up valuable minutes- Get a move on, move, or they’ll hate you, they’ll take it as a disrespect, they’ll never accept you as their own-

“That’s enough.”

A paw baps the side of his head gently, snapping Sunday out of his thoughts.

Dull pain pricks at his palms. With a start, he realizes that his nails are digging into them, as they always do whenever his mind starts racing. He quickly relaxes his hands with a sigh.

Elio hums knowingly.

“You think too much,” says the seer. He stretches on Sunday’s shoulder, letting out a small meow as he does. He looks and acts so much like a real cat, Sunday has to remind himself not to pet him.

“I apologize,” is Sunday’s automatic response. Internally, he winces. You’d scold him if you heard him.

Elio shakes his head.

“The others won’t ostracize you,” he says matter-of-factly, in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

“Is that a part of your prophecy?” Sunday asks, eyes glittering with dull mirth.

“Perhaps. It is also their nature. One doesn’t need to be a seer to know that.”

The seer lashes his tail. Sunday doesn’t know how to feel about being comforted by a cat, but knowing who Elio is, and the absolute certainty behind his words manages to quiet the noise in his mind enough to let him think clearly.

“I… I see. Thank you,” he says sheepishly. Elio shrugs.

“It’s nothing,” he assures. “If you need further consolation, you can pet me.”

Somewhere a record screeches to a halt. Sunday stares blankly at Elio, who stares back innocently as if he hasn’t said anything wrong.

“Absolutely not,” Sunday says flatly, with half a mind to shove the seer off just to see what would happen. “You’re a grown man.”

Elio’s eyes gleam. “Am I? Or am I a cat who has learned to disguise as human?”

Sunday doesn’t bother entertaining him. Rolling his eyes with an amused sigh, he begrudgingly gives Elio a small scratch on the chin.

“Happy now?”

Elio closes his eyes, the beginnings of a purr rumbling in his chest. The vibrations are soothing against Sunday’s skin, like how white noise aids one in sleeping. One of Elio's ears flicks, and Sunday has to bite down a smile.

“This isn’t for my happiness,” Elio says despite clearly enjoying the scratch. He blinks his eyes open, forcing Sunday to look into the sky. “You are feeling better.”

The seer tilts his head, looking past Sunday in amusement. Before Sunday asks what exactly it is he’s looking at, he hears a distant flutter, and his wings brush against fur. His face flushes.

Elio chuckles, his tail flicking back and forth. “Come on now, the others are waiting.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, ears burning, Sunday nods.

He really needed to fix this wing problem of his.

—

Three floors up, you wait with Kafka in the main living room.

The Spirit Whisper user has only arrived recently, having sped back to the Delphi from whatever corner of the universe she was shopping at. Her recent escapade shows on her outfit, a brand new velvet coat (this one a dark red) draped over her shoulders.

Her gloved fingers fly expertly across the neck of a violin, a mahogany bow in her other hand as she maneuvers the violin into an eerie melody. Her shoulders sway as she does, her pupiless eyes fluttering closed every so often with the music.

“They’re here,” you announce, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in the plush sofa chair in which you sit. Your eyes are focused on your phone, which tracks Firefly’s and Silver Wolf’s location on an app the latter had designed herself.

Kafka hums, her deft hands never stilling. “Is that right?”

There’s a creak as the door opens behind and Blade walks in. With a simple nod to both you and Kafka, he slinks off to his corner of the room and summons his sword to hug against his chest. Kafka smiles demurely.

“Say,” she says, finally setting down the violin, “Bladie, how’s Birdie’s training going?”

Blade shifts the sword, looking up. “He needs to work on his footwork.”

Kafka hums. “Do you think he’s ready for a mission?”

“He can hold his own,” Blade admits, “but I wonder if he has the heart to kill. He could easily incapacitate me with his attacks on the mind, and yet he chooses not to.”

“It’s because he cares,” you jump into the conversation, setting your phone aside. “He may not act like it, but he’s rather soft-hearted. He probably doesn’t want to hurt you.”

Blade scoffs. “That kind of foolish sympathy will only debilitate him on the battlefield.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” says Kafka. “Who knows? Maybe Birdie will surprise us. One doesn’t nearly become an Aeon without some kind of moral ambiguity.”

Blade doesn’t look convinced, but he was never one to argue. He merely shrugs with a grunt, accepting whatever Kafka decides is the truth.

It isn’t like the conversation is set to continue either, as soon a portal made up of multicolored pixels spawns in the middle of the living room, and out walks Firefly, shopping bags hanging from all over her arms. Silver Wolf follows soon after, closing the portal behind her with a pop of her bubblegum.

“Welcome back,” Kafka greets, leaning on top of the backrest of your sofa chair. “Had fun at Penacony?”

“Fun is… one way of putting it,” Firefly chuckles bashfully. “It was definitely eventful. Speaking of which,”

She looks around the room for a certain someone.

“Where’s Sunday?”

“Probably changing,” you say, standing up from your chair. “He was in the middle of getting beat by Blade when I told him.”

“Ah, I see…” A small, nervous laugh leaves her. She quickly brightens, however, once you go in for a one-armed hug, the other hand still holding your wine glass. “That’s okay. His gift can wait. Here, let me give your guys’s.”

She rummages around in her shopping bag before pulling out what looks to be a large bubble, purples and blues glistening on its surface with the occasional person or place flashing.

“Here’s yours, [Name].”

You stare at it, dumbfounded. “A bubble?”

“It’s a dream bubble,” Firefly clarifies, gently placing it above your open palm. “Basically, they’re little memories or stories stored in a bubble - like a movie! There was this one vendor in Oti Mall who sold them, and, well… When I saw it, I knew I had to get it for you.”

Her shoulders jump, as if remembering something.

“Oh, and… Maybe it’s best if you don’t open it here.”

Raising a brow, you tear your eyes away from the strange bubble. “Why is that?”

Firefly shifts. “Well… you’ll know.”

That doesn’t sound reassuring. “Now I’m getting worried. Is there a trigger warning, or..?”

Firefly waves her hands hastily. “No, no, nothing like that! It’s just that, well… dream bubbles leave you unconscious, so…”

“Ah.” You blink. “That makes a lot more sense.”

“That wasn’t all I got you, though,” Firefly adds. She takes the shopping bag that she’d pulled the dream bubble from and hands it to you. “I know you like collecting drinks, so…”

At her words, you immediately forget about the dream bubble. Throwing it away somewhere, you eagerly reach into the bag and feel the familiar touch of cold glass. Your eyes gleam with excitement.

The bottle you pull out is tall and fat towards the bottom, the glass tinted a dark caramel while what seems to be liquid amber sloshes inside. Stamped on the front of the hefty bottle is a green and orange logo that tells you just exactly what this beverage was.

“SoulGlad, is it?” you read aloud, holding the bottle up to the light. “So this is the famous ‘beverage of dreams’.”

“I know you prefer wine,” says Firefly, rubbing the back of her neck, “but Siobhan recommended this - also it’s a staple of Penacony, so I figured, why not try that wasn’t alcohol for once?”

You pointedly ignore that last part. “Siobhan?”

“She’s a bartender I met on Penacony! Speaking of which, Blade,”-Firefly fishes out another shopping bag, this one smaller and darker in color- “Siobhan said that this drink is good for people like you. It’ll make you feel a little better.”

Blade raises a brow. He unhands his sword only for a moment to accept the bag. Briefly peeking at whatever’s inside, he raises a brow and closes the bag, nodding his thanks to Firefly.

The biggest bag turns out to be Kafka’s, as Silver Wolf had already received her souvenir prior to arriving on the Delphi.

The hacker’s gift currently sits on her head as she plays yet another game in the chair that used to be your. The holographic Origami Bird bears a striking resemblance to her, occasionally cocking its head and chirping every so often, the three large feathers on its head swaying with each movement.

“Wow~” Despite having just gotten a new coat, Kafka’s perfectly painted lips curve into a delighted smile at the sight of black and magenta velvet and bronze buttons. “Did you get this specially tailored?”

Firefly tucks a white hair behind her head, her cheeks flushed with joy. “Yes, I did. It was only a small extra fee, so I didn’t mind.”

“How thoughtful.” Kafka swiftly abandons her current coat and slips on the new one. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to use it often.”

Kafka pats Firefly’s head gently, smiling down at her like a mother would her daughter.

“Congrats on your mission, by the way,” she says. “Quite the stir this time, I wish I was there to have seen it all.”

Firefly chuckles nervously. “Yeah, Penacony was definitely… interesting.”

And then, as if summoned by his homeland, two doors slide open and Sunday enters with Elio nestled snugly in his arms.

“I apologize for being late,” says the Halovian, bowing slightly. Kafka laughs.

“Don’t worry about it,” she assures, waving a hand carelessly. “What matters is that you’re here, Birdie.”

Fuchsia eyes narrow amusedly at the seer comfortably cradled against Sunday’s chest.

“Having fun there, Elio?” Kafka teases. Elio squints at the woman for a second before letting out a disturbingly cat-like meow and nuzzling back into the warm wool of Sunday’s turtleneck.

As much as you want to laugh at the seer, your eyes are somewhere else. Besides you, Firefly has seized up, her posture stiff and awkward at the sight of the former Oak Head. Figures, she probably had… a lot of conflicts, to put it lightly, with Sunday, and seeing him so soon - not to mention with her boss - must be jarring.

You decide to give her a bit of comfort. Nudging her lightly, you offer her an encouraging smile. She returns it gratefully, before taking a deep breath and greeting her now-junior.

“Hi, Sunday,” she says tentatively with a shy smile. Sunday’s eyes soften.

“Ah, Miss Firefly.” He nods politely. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Yes.” Firefly shifts her feet. “How have you been?”

“Better. You Hunters have been far more accommodating than I had ever anticipated, although rather eccentric.”

“That’s good,” Firefly chuckles. She pulls out a light-blue gift bag, and, walking up to Sunday, extends it to him. “This is your initiation gift. I really hope you like it.”

“Ah, thank you.”

Elio jumps off Sunday so that he can accept the gift, and opts to climb Kafka instead. In the meantime, Sunday handles Firefly’s gift as one might handle a baby. Once he opens it, however, his eyes widen in shock and his breath hitches.

“This is…”

Firefly smiles softly. “I asked your sister personally.”

Grasped in Sunday’s shaking hands is a gleaming album of red and purple. His sister’s face smiles up at him from the recording booth as she sings to the hearts of millions across the universe. Signed in the corner in a pastel pink pen is her signature.

“I…” Sunday’s voice is choked in his throat. He sounds like he’s about to cry. A part of you wants to reach out and give him a hug, but you don’t think that’s the right course of action right now.

“There’s a note inside,” Firefly offers. “And as for the album itself, it’s like a mini phonograph, so you can play it whenever you want.”

Sunday’s hand clasps tightly over his mouth as to hold back the tears that threaten to break from his eyes. Golden rings scan Robin’s face, again and again, rechecking her signature to make sure that he isn’t seeing things.

“I don’t know what to say,” he whispers. “I…” He inhales deeply to calm himself and reign back his composure. “...Thank you, Miss Firefly. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“You should be thanking your sister,” says Firefly. “She put some other things in the bag there for you, and- Silver Wolf? Did you give him your gifts yet?”

Silver Wolf doesn’t even look up from her game. “Nope. Give me a sec, I just gotta beat this level aaaaaand- done.”

She jumps up, her Origami bird fluttering in surprise as she does. Twirling her fingers, a phone materializes in her hold.

“Here’s your phone, newbie,” she says, stopping in front of Sunday. “I cleared it of all its tracking malware and transferred your frozen accounts from the IPC. Everything else should be the same.”

“Damn, you had tracking malware?” you comment, stealing back your seat now that Silver Wolf has left. Sunday sighs.

“Yes, the Dream Master was rather… paranoid.”

“That doesn’t matter though,” chirps Silver Wolf as Sunday takes back his phone. “I already got rid of it all, so it’s useless now. I also added you to the groupchat. Your sister’s been texting you like crazy, though. You might want to answer her.”

“...I’ll think about it,” says Sunday. The hacker shrugs.

“Do what you want, it’s not my business.” She starts up another level, evident by the 8-bit music playing from her phone. “Your old clothes should be in your room now; I put them on your bed for you.”

“You did? When?”

“Just now.”

You shoot a confused Sunday a smile. “Silver Wolf’s specialty lies in altering the data of reality.”

“Ah. Well, thank you Miss Silver Wolf.”

The hacker wrinkles her nose. “Just Silver Wolf is fine. Although, I have got to ask-”

She looks up, excitement and curiosity glittering behind her nonchalant facade.

“Why did you have so many copies of the same outfit? Are you like, an NPC?”

Sunday doesn’t seem to know what to do with Silver Wolf’s expectant gaze. He tilts his head.

“It’s merely a matter of convenience. I can’t wear the same clothes every day, that would be unsanitary. But the public has a certain image of me, and I had to uphold it - hence the clothes.”

“Oh.” Silver Wolf deflates. “That was significantly less interesting than I thought it’d be.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t mind her,” you butt in. “She just likes to over exaggerate things so that she gets disappointed by them because she sets her expectations too high.”

“I do not!” Silver Wolf kicks you childishly, nearly spilling your wine in the process. You shoot her a glare.

“Yes, you do, I have receipts- do you want me to pull them out? I will pull them out.”

“Yeah, right. Screenshots? Recordings? Please, you know that’s useless against a hacker like me.”

“I’m not that unprepared you heathen-”

Elio sighs as the two of you begin bickering. Kafka chuckles, patting him on the head while Blade has already started napping standing up. Sunday glances at the two senior Hunters nervously.

“Are they always- like this?” he asks. Elio shakes his head in disappointment.

“You’ll get used to it.”

—

Later that night, Sunday sits in his room. There’s little to no light, save for the small lamp that sits on his bedside table. Soft piano music plays in the background, accompanied with the soft soprano of his sister.

“In candlelight, as time unwinds, I find myself, lost in your eyes.”

He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the still-white walls of his room. He welcomes the melody into his ears, allowing it to consume him in its song.

“In midnight tolls, as darkness folds, I see your tears, when we say goodbye.”

Flashes of Penacony’s scenery as he had fallen reemerge in his mind. He remembers the sunrise, the piercing light of the sun as it touched upon Golden Hour for the first time in years.

“Watching stars, as we drift on by.”

He remembers his sister’s embrace, the confusion and the fear, but also the relief and comfort of family.

“A touch,”

If he loses himself enough…

“A glance,

If he forgets enough…

“Fly away.”

He could almost believe that it’s his sister standing next to him that’s singing, not a recording.

“Will our paths converge, ‘neath the sun?”

Robin’s voice swells, and strings jump in to accompany it. Goosebumps chill his skin and his breath catches in his chest. His eyes squeeze, a strangling emotion he doesn’t recognize squeezing at his heart.

“A silent desire, in melody sung.”

For a moment, he sees her, he sees his sister, he sees Robin. It is almost as if she is speaking to him, singing to him, asking him of what fate has in store for them.

“Beyond this stolen night, we share a cherished dream.”

Indeed, they did. Her dream, their dream. A dream to fill the skies with their songs, to dance for the people they loved so much.

“Between souls whispered that it ‘seems’.”

But only one of them could make that dream a reality.

“Will shooting stars align ‘neath the sun?”

His eyes peek open, glossy and aching. The music heightens, and the dark ceiling blurs into the beginnings of a beautiful nightscape, full of twinkling stars and kissed by the retreating sun.

“In whispered hopes where journey's begun.”

Penacony smiles down at him, the home to which he’ll never return to. All twelve hours have passed, and a new day has begun.

“In dreams, we waltz the sky,”

His hand twitches. It flexes against the blankets, grasping for something, someone who isn’t there.

“You watch me drift on by,”

Oh, how he wishes he could hold her again, see her smile again, watch her sing once more. His heart aches to cradle his baby sister one last time, even if it’s for a second, just so that his last sight of her wouldn’t be of a smile with tears.

“In your memory, a whispered song,”

“A seed of hope where we belong.”

The song ends, leaving Sunday with a husk of a heart. A singular tear breaks free and slips down his cheek. For the first time, Sunday doesn’t think to wipe it.

His chest hurts, yet lighter, as if a weight has been lifted, leaving his heart to deal with the repercussions of bearing said weight for so long. He can breathe, painfully so, yet it is clear, crisp, rejuvenating.

He wants to see her again, but not now. Not yet.

But one day, they will.

His phone pings, snapping him out of his thoughts. He almost doesn’t want to check it, but it pings again and he picks it up reluctantly.

It’s you, he realizes, a small smile slipping onto his face.

Sunday grimaces at the memory. Last week, he’d made the mistake of admiring one of the flowers that grew over your door. Well, that flower turned out to be carnivorous, and very territorial, and it nearly took off a chunk off his finger had he not blasted it out of panic.

He still has to buy you a replacement.

He shakes his head, sighing with a smile. Out of reflex, he flexes the finger that had been bit. Had it not been for you, it would still be wrapped in bandages.

A soft laugh escapes him at your sticker. He scrolls up for a bit through the conversation, rereading it over and over again. Why? He doesn’t know. It just feels right.

His scrolling stops just over the attachment you sent. So this is his part of the script - Elio’s infamous prophecy that contains details of the future, down to the very second. He clicks on it.

Reading over it briefly, his brows furrow.

“Alfeasa-VIII, is it?” he murmurs.

He’s heard of the planet before; a prosperous kingdom with loyal and loving subjects that worshiped the Preservation. He’d never paid much attention to it, though, as the most interaction he’d ever gotten from it were a few of its nobles who came to Penacony for vacation.

His fingers stop just above a paragraph in his script that seems all too out of place.

At 22:38:10 system time, the reigning kingdom of Alfeasa-VIII will fall. [Name] will dispense multiple gas bombs at the banquet. They will give you one gas mask to give to a person of your choosing. Whoever you choose will become the next ruler of Alfeasa-VIII. I trust that you will choose wisely.

—

Bonus (left on read):

<< previous || series masterlist || next chapter >>

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

#—stellaronhvnters.#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr sunday #sunday hsr #honkai star rail sunday #hsr sunday x reader #sunday hsr x reader #honkai star rail sunday x reader #sunday x reader #x reader #reader insert #y/n #━━ series : on the other side of morality #honkai star rail series #archives 🏵️

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demonicbaby666 · 6 months ago

Note

hi pookie🥰 any chance you’d write a fic where fem!r has never had an orgasm and Emily thinks she can change that?!

Never Have I Ever

One shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Genre: Smut

Words: 2.9k+

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, oral sex, fingering (r!receiving), top!Emily, bottom!reader, reader is also a bit yapper, there's like the tiniest bit of fluff if you squint at the end

Summary: A history shadowed by unfulfillment and shortcomings in the bedroom was an unfortunate reality for you. It was why one night, when you found yourself alone at a bar at the centre of a certain stranger's attention, it didn't seem so outlandish to give something new a try.

A/n: She's backkkkkk! and probably not gonna post for another month UwU... Also, thank you as always to the lovely, amazing @hotchscvm for reading it through and giving me live reactions MWAH <3

The music, that’s what you remember: the sound of smooth saxophones, sweet piano chords and the occasional tick of a snare drum. It played perfectly in your ears as you sat alone at a local bar, nursing an exceptionally balanced martini on that sublime Friday evening. The weather was pleasant, and the previous company was friendly after a tiresome day—interesting enough to engage you but casual enough not to exhaust you. And it all ended with the quiet buzzing of a vacated table and an inviting presence beckoning you to the bar.

End the night at an appropriate time, take an Uber home and perhaps dodge a frightful hangover or walk over to the exceedingly beautiful brunette sitting alone, get close enough to her lips to smell the rich whiskey that was being lazy swirled around in her tumbler, and perhaps taste the sharpness of the distilled grain on her tongue? It was your decision to make.

Her eyes, the bitter shade of coffee, sweetly called for your attention, flickering to and from the empty seat beside her. It was not so much a command as it was a challenge. The playful glint in her eyes told you as much. She studied you with piqued interest that was far from unwelcome and filled your stomach with a reverent fire you had not experienced in quite some time. You ached for more.

Mind made up, you grabbed your drink, slung your purse strap over your shoulder, and walked over to this enticing stranger. And as you did so, you took care in matching the sway of your hips to the lulling melody of a saxophone, enjoying the view of the brunette’s pink tongue peeking out to wet her lips. The fire in your stomach roared.

You set your drink down and slid onto the bar stool, noting how you were observed. It was neither clinical nor invasive. It was more inquisitive. Like the older woman was trying to figure you out without so much as asking you a question, and honestly, with how her eyes squinted and her lips curled ever so slightly at the edges, you believed she might already have you read.

It was nothing short of intimidating to feel so bare whilst completely clothed, well completely clothed with a generous helping of cleavage. There was an itch to be on evening footing with this illustrious stranger, enough to start a dangerous game.

“Never have I ever…” you purred.

The game was well received, and you found that Emily, you discovered was her name, was rather bold. She didn’t shy away from any question you threw her way. If anything, they seemed to amuse her. By the time she’d come to ask you the question that turned the evening’s tide, Emily was coming close to needing a third drink.

“Never have I ever slept with a woman,” she said, her gaze so attentive it was almost unnerving to leave your drink untouched.

She was disappointed. You saw it in her eyes, in the way she threw her head back to down the remainder of her whiskey. You knew she wasn’t grimacing from the burn. No, the ice had melted a long time ago and watered down the rich liquor. The lines of displeasure around her mouth came from realising the evening was probably all for nothing, that she should have gone home instead of trying to find stress relief in the bed of another stranger.

“It’s not that I haven't wanted to,” you began, trying to find the confidence to continue in her shifting expression. “I’ve never really had the chance.”

Emily wasn’t giving you anything, and unfortunately, in an effort to drive away the awkward silence, you kept talking. “I find women attractive, and god knows I imagine it.” Blabbering was more appropriate. “Not in a weird way. I mean, is there not a weird way? What I mean is I seem to attract men, specifically ones with an aversion to loyalty, which is crazy as none of them could get me to,” You cut yourself off, far too embarrassed to even look the older woman across you in the eyes. “Please say something before I dig a hole deep enough to bury myself alive in.”

“No.” Emily drawled, suddenly glowing with a newfound sense of purpose. “I want you to finish. What could they never do?”

You looked up at her wide eyes, then carefully around the bar as if one of your aforementioned exes was hiding in plain sight.

You muttered, “Can’t you put two and two together?”

“Oh, I can. I’m just desperate to hear you say it.”

Did you want to answer? No. But there was something niggling away at you—the feeling that this woman would not let this go. She seemed like the determined type.

“Fine,” you huffed, looking down at your drink, using your straw to stir the clear beverage. It was painfully obvious you were avoiding Emily’s eyes, but you couldn’t care less. “None of them could make me cum.”

There was another bout of silence, stretching long enough for your cheeks to turn to fire. You took small sips of your drink, trying to occupy your mouth before you started blithering on again.

“I could change that.”

Your head snapped up.

“What?” You asked, winded, slightly dazed, and mildly alarmed that if you had swallowed a second later than you did, you’d probably have spewed your drink all over yourself and Emily.

“Never have I ever let a stranger give me my first orgasm.” And the way her eclipsed eyes twinkled under the overhead light left no doubt in your mind that Emily had found a goal for the night, one she would not easily let go of.

“Okay,” you whispered.

—

Leaving the bar together, standing side by side in the chilly evening breeze, Emily took out her phone. One sideward glance told her all she needed to know. Your hands were clasped together, fingers desperately grasping at the sides of your trousers. Your jaw slung to the side as your teeth gnawed the sides of your mouth. Your eyes followed every moving vehicle that sped past, though Emily suspected you didn’t see much of anything beyond the subject that seemed to plague your mind. That’s when the older woman passed her phone over to you.

You shot her a puzzled look, to which she simply rolled her eyes teasingly enough to colour your cheeks rouge. Apparently, it was obvious what she wanted from you, though you seemed to miss the memo completely and continued to stare blankly at the lit screen.

“You’ll be more comfortable somewhere familiar,” Emily wittingly sighed.

A meagre ‘oh’ was your only response, that and finally taking the phone from Emily’s outstretched hand and entering your address into the blinking search bar. When you handed it back, you didn’t miss the humoured smirk on her face or the little shake of her head as she slid her phone into her back pocket and looped an arm around your waist.

As it turned out, Emily was right. The moment you stepped into your apartment, your anxieties did not disappear but did lessen. The excitement of your predicament bubbled in your stomach, no longer masked by nausea, excitement that only grew with each kiss Emily placed on the back of your neck.

It felt a bit like being young again, staying out past curfew, playing tag with friends and toppling over one another in and among all the excitement. Hell, you almost did fall over on the way to the bedroom, laughing and wrangling with your trousers until Emily calmed you, dropping to her knees and pressing light kisses along the outskirts of your thighs. She helped you out of your pants, making no effort to get back up. Instead, she continued to map both your legs with her hands, kissing up and down and occasionally marking the spots she found you most responsive to.

“Lay back on the bed,” Emily instructed, finally standing up.

Despite spending the last year of your life in that bedroom, you couldn’t quite remember anything. Not where your wardrobe was, not where your bedside table was, and not where the end of your bed started. That’s why when you greedily tried to continue to kiss Emily, walking back, you completely misjudged the distance between the back of your knees and the edge of your mattress and went tumbling back.

It would have been slightly mortifying had the look on the older woman's face been anything less than thoroughly amused as she followed you onto the bed. You met her eyes with a shy smile, in contrast to your brave hands that led her to your breasts. Once there, Emily squeezed and kneaded them till you were sure you’d go mad if you didn’t feel her touch directly against your skin. The older woman seemed to have the same thought, with fingers at the bottom of your shirt pulling it up and up and up till she had to break away to remove it.

Then there you were, in your bed, in only your bra and underwear, a stranger above you admiring the contours and curves of your body. What you expected was that uneasy feeling deep in your stomach, which people usually get should they find themselves in a position in which they are singled out, like a deer caught in headlights. Instead, what you felt had a stark resemblance to waiting in line for a ride. There was, of course, some unease churning in your stomach, a sprinkle of fright hastening your heart, but unsurprisingly, excitement seemed to be the dominant emotion. It bubbled away in your chest, rumbled low in your tummy, left your head dizzy, and it was perfect.

You were smiling like an idiot by the time your senses came back to you. A moment short-lived and stolen away when Emily decided it was time to do away with her clothes, ridding herself of them piece by piece till she too was left in only her bra and underwear.

She was perfect, from head to toe, pure perfection that it became a challenge to find something to settle your eyes on. There were her shoulders, toned and balmy, begging to be touched; her breast, firm yet soft like silk, demanding to be kissed; there was her heat, hot against your thigh with only a piece of lace shielding her arousal from wetting your skin. It was a new sensation, but not an unwelcome one, and as if possessed by the need for more, you latched onto her ass, pushing her firmly against you and tasting her tongue as her mouth fell open in a silent gasp.

Emboldened, you raised your thigh, pressing it to the growing wet patch of Emily’s underwear. You relished the small moan that came from the older woman, how it echoed into your throat, but that was as far as you were allowed to press before control was seized from your grasp, quite literally. In a flurry, you found your wrists pinned beside your head, Emily sitting up above you, smiling like a Cheshire cat, though you were not oblivious to the rapid rise and fall of her recovering lungs.

She took a moment to gather herself, letting her eyes wander over your body. The brown pools of her irises had eclipsed black with lust, forcing a whole-bodied shudder to traipse down your spine. She looked hungry, needy, and determined.

The pressure eased over your wrists, and you were given a look that told you enough not to move but instead observe Emily freeing her breasts from the shackles of her bra. And that you did. You watched, enraptured, breathless and in awe, and said nothing when she leaned down to reach behind your back. With practised ease, she pulled your bra from your arms, tossing it to the floor and turning back to give attention to your air-kissed nipples. Her teeth played around one pebbled tit whilst her fingers taunted the other.

Foreplay was something you had experienced, but Emily was taking the trophy home for stretching it out to perfection. Already, you could feel the beginnings of your arousal slick between your thighs. There wasn’t a second where her touch left you as she wormed her way down your torso, her fingers tickling the sides of your belly, the underside of your breast, her mouth insistent on kissing every inch of your skin. Her warmth surrounded you like a blanket.

Eventually, when she reached low enough to come face to face with your panties, did she raise her eyes to your own and ask without so many words to remove the last barrier standing between her mouth and your waiting sex.

“Never have I ever let someone go down on me.”

She waited for your nod of approval, small as it was, to peel the soaked panties down your legs.

There was a moment’s pause when the evening air of your bedroom kissed your tender flesh, forcing the emergence of a little gasp to leave your throat. The inhalation and pleased sigh that came from between your legs beckoned your attention, but there was nothing to do but throw your head back when cold was replaced by warmth—the tickle of Emily’s breath and the tip of her tongue slipping between your sex.

Bated breaths were all you knew. Breaths that chiselled away at your lungs till they both felt simultaneously deflated and full, till the first appearance of sweat glistened over your brow, and the dawning of slight tremors shook your belly. And only when a single digit was eased into you did you finally breathe again, a breath so sharp it felt like your body was reawakened.

Vaguely, you registered the shuddering of your limbs; you weren’t so far gone to have lost all control of yourself, and the soft caresses of Emily’s tongue against your clit weren’t enough to have you writhing. They were, however, enough to pry small whimpers out of you.

Being vocal had never been your thing, though, in truth, it was hard to be vocal in earnest when you were gaining nothing out of the inconsistent jamming of a cock inside you or the never-ending cycle of a vibrator pressed against your cunt, buzzing and buzzing till you felt as though maybe you’d tip over the edge, only to come to a standstill and a slow torturous come down from nothing. In those situations, it was hard to get even a moan out, excluding the fake pornographic ones men go crazy for. Emily, however, was successful in changing this.

One finger suddenly became two, then three, and whimpers and little gasps were a thing of the past. For a moment, you thought the neighbour was banging against your wall, screaming out, only to be muffled by the dense wall dividing you. That was, of course, till you realised the banging was the blood rushing and thudding in your ears, and the screams were none other than your own. They were loud and boisterous, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care because this was surely heaven. The perfectly paced pumps of fingers, the sucking, licking and occasional nibble against your clit, and most importantly, the encouraging squeeze of Emily’s hand against your chest, it was all heaven.

Every grain of pleasure you felt was monumental, simmering and exploding inside you over and over again. It felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything other than simply exist under the tense pressure that was reaching a colossal peak. Your hips moved purposefully, matching Emily’s rhythm until the push and pull between the both of you was symbiotic.

The closing act, the final push, was the press of fingertips curving against a spot within you so sweet you tasted honey on your lips, sugar on your tongue and nectar spilling from your sex.

When you came, you cried.

It wasn’t an outburst of pouring tears nor a cry of eternal joy. It was simply a few tears running down the sides of your face as you smiled and let out a sigh of contentedness, one, perhaps, you had been holding in for years. Years of bending to people’s wishes, even if it meant giving up your pleasure, years of shameful attempts at fucking yourself to exhaustion only to gain no reward, years of yearning for precisely what you were just given.

“You’re loud,” Emily whispered against your belly, kissing the small divot of your belly button.

You waited for a spell, colour draining from your face. Dawning on you was the realisation that whilst you may have thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyed yourself; your counterpart may not have.

You shifted uncomfortably, turning your head to mask your blush.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, hoping the blotchy red patches on your cheek mirrored ones of exhaustion, not embarrassment.

Emily shook her head, making no rush to work her way back up your body. Each kiss felt like fire and ice.

When she finally did meet your eyes, she gave you a small smirk.

“I like it. It’s refreshing,” the brunette muttered, touching her lips to yours, painting your mouth with the tang of her tongue.

If the kiss wasn’t reassuring enough, the next thing Emily said ensured she would find pleasure only momentarily.

Slipping her underwear off to her ankle, she flicked the offending garment far across your room and sidled up your body till her sex was waiting directly over your mouth.

“Never have I ever…”

Tags: @ssa-sapphic @red1culous @sapphicprentiss @five-bi-five-mind @whosprentiss @asolitaryrose3 @imlike-so-gaydude @maybe-a-humanbean @bossofcriminalminds @jareguiromanoff @lovelyy-moonlight @storiesofsvu @mrs-prentiss @romanoffsho @waitaminutebaby @jarexuslover @lesbodietcoke @milfsincrime @noahrex @pnsteblnme @girloversstuff @ratsnestinmyhair @propertyofemilyprentiss @chloeelou02x @gayestswiftie @waitaminuteashh @chestnutninny @evelinearmani @luv-unknwn @lesbodietcoke | click here to be added to my taglist

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss smut #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds #emily prentiss x y/n #lgbt #Emily Prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #cm

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sometimesanalice · 1 year ago

Text

Up the Ante

Summary: Rooster had heard the whispers. He knew what the stories were about- the ones that had followed him and Hangman around for years. You, however, are more than happy to find out for yourself if all the rumors were true.

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader x Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Length: 9K+

Warnings: Smut. So. Much. Smut. (MINORS DNI)

(author's note: I regret nothing. Enjoy!)

Leave it to Jake Seresin to fuck up his plans.

Rooster had been in a really great mood when he’d arrived to the Hard Deck earlier that night. He’d beat most of the team there and had been on his way to go claim the pool table before the Friday night rush when he’d seen you out of the corner of his eye sitting at the bar.

He’d nearly given himself whiplash trying to get a better look at you. And then the next thing he knew, he’d found his feet taking him up to the stool right next to you. The mission to get the pool table completely forgotten.

And he still didn’t know how it was possible, but you were even prettier up close.

Even with the low dip of your creamy silky looking tank top, with all your skin taunting and teasing him, his eyes had stayed on yours the whole time as the two of you talked. That smile of yours was a bit too knowing. He could sense you were waiting, daring him to slip up.

Just for fun, just to see.

Yeah, you had his number alright. There was no question about it.

And fuck, if he wasn’t already down to let you toy with him whichever way you wanted. His cock twitching in his already slightly too snug jeans when he’d caught you checking him out after he’d ordered a fresh round of drinks from Jimmy.

The busier the bar got, the closer the two of you were pushed together as the other patrons clamored around waiting to place their orders. His forearm grazing against your exposed back from where he had it braced on your stool to keep you from getting jostled by thirsty sailors.

He’d stepped away for a moment when Natasha had called him over to back her up in a game with Reuben and Mickey. He he’d left you with a promise to be back, not wanting to come on too over bearing by not giving you any time to yourself. The groundwork was laid and he didn’t mind the wait.

He could be patient, he knew a good thing when he saw it.

And of course, when he’d looked back over his shoulder. There was Hangman with his elbow leaning on the bar, standing in the spot he’d just vacated. And looking at you like the cat who’d caught the canary with that fucking toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth.

Rooster really shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d felt the other aviator’s gaze on him as he’d talked to you, could sense him waiting in the wings ready to make his move.

After the Uranium Mission, their tentative truce had grown into a casual camaraderie. But that didn’t mean they still didn’t enjoy riling each other up.

Jake had a tendency to steal his beer when he wasn’t looking, swapping it out with his empties behind his back. Not to mention, the way he liked to rack up a bill of Bradley’ tab.

And Bradley had no problem unplugging Penny’s jukebox approximately two minutes after watching Jake feed the machine his quarters before taking over on the piano. Playing whatever songs made the other man grimace the most.

But it had been years since they’d done this.

When the two of them had first met, their competition to be the best and one-up the other had spilled over from the skies into pretty much everything else. If one had flight simulation scores were topping the chart, then the other was figuring out how beating it. If one was benching a personal record, the other was already tacking on extra weight to their own.

So then, if one was talking to a pretty girl at the bar, the other was usually waiting for his moment to try and out charm, out talk, or out smile the other behind his back.

Or in front of his face.

Neither of them had cared to play fair back then. The bragging rights plastered across the winners face the next morning on base.

Rooster thought he’d made his intentions very clear. For all intents and purposes, he had claimed dibs. Well, as much as he could on a woman who was fully entitled and capable making her own decisions.

Now he was half way across the bar, watching as Hangman threw his cowboy hat into the ring.

“Jesus, Rooster. Stare any harder and you’re going to strain something, man,” Payback teased as he lined up his shot, before sending the freshly racked balls scattering on the pool table.

Bradley doesn’t respond, just brings the lukewarm beer to his mouth and downs the remaining few swigs. His hand tightening around the bottle as you throw your head back to laugh at something that Hangman has said, the sight of your exposed throat makes his mouth go dry.

“You know what they say, the more the merrier. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time, right?” Fanboy says with a laugh that gets cut off with a wheezy, breathy oof.

Looking over his shoulder, Bradley sees Phoenix looking down at Fanboy shaking her head at him as she dropped a couple there-there pats on the doubled over man’s back.

“Please that rumor has been around for years,” Nat stated, “Before we got called back, those two could barely be in the same airspace, let alone in the same bedroom.”

“I don’t know, I bet there’s more to that story. I heard-” Payback starts.

This time, Bradley turns around and raises an eyebrow. The conversation quickly finds a new subject, and he goes back to glaring at the back of Hangman’s head.

He wasn’t unaware of the pointed looks and whispers that had followed him and Seresin around.

Everyone seemed to have their own opinions on the topic. They did. They didn’t. A friend of a friend had seen them leave with a girl. A buddy said they saw them fighting in the parking lot over who got to take her home.

He didn’t care about the speculation, he’d even heard some pretty interesting drunken theories along the way. Any tips to sneak a girl in the barracks for a hookup in the laundry room? How can three people even fuck in the back of a Bronco? Or his favorite, I heard y’all did the Eiffel Tower in the ATC tower.

But he wasn’t one to feed the fire. He didn’t know the other man’s reasons for not indulging the curious questions, but Hangman must have felt the same way, since neither one of them had yet to confirm or deny the story.

It was easier to just grin and shrug and leave them guessing.

From his spot stationed at the pool table he could see there was interest in your eyes at you looked at Seresin. Just as he’d seen it when you had looked at him with that same keen perceptiveness, the heat that lingered behind the teasing. And fuck, if that didn’t make him want you even more.

He liked a woman who went after what she wanted.

That pull low in his stomach had been there since he’d first seen you and had only gotten worse as he watched Jake try and get under his skin.

It would be almost comical the way the asshole turns his head just enough in his direction to shoot him a wink before settling his hand on the top of your thigh, if it didn’t make his blood thrum hot in his veins.

“Bradshaw, it’s your turn.” He hears one of them try and get his attention, but 8-Ball wasn’t what he wanted to play right now.

He had a stake in a different game going on.

If you wanted Hangman over him, he would respect that. But he sure as shit wasn’t going to fold, not when he still had a hand worth playing.

“And there’s the cock walk…” he hears Nat mutter as pushes off the pool table to make his way across the bar.

He knew how to turn heads and how to work a room. But there was only one head he wanted to turn, only one person in the room he wanted to work. He was going to his damndest to ensure it was his bed you’re in tonight.

Bradley is downright shameless in the way he struts right up to the two of you. Letting his chest brush up against you as he claims the seat next to you. He murmurs your name low and raspy as he settles into the stool, catching the way your hips shift subtly in response. That pull behind his bellybutton only intensifying.

You don’t look surprised to see him, if anything you look intrigued. That full bottom lip pinned between your teeth, your cheek ticked up like you’re fighting back a satisfied smile.

“Well if it ain’t Rooster,” Hangman drawls, those dimples deepening with every passing moment, “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Bagman,” he grunts taking the whiskey from his hand. Feeling smug when your eyes latch on to his throat, watching as he swallows it down, savoring the warm burn of the free drink before he presses the empty glass back into the other man’s hand. “Looks like you’ve scored yourself another admirer, pretty girl. How’s he measure up? You can be brutally honest, it’d be good for him to keep his ego in check.”

You tilt your head at him, “So far I’ve got no complaints.”

“Damn straight you don’t,” Jake winks.

“How generous of you,” Rooster says, ignoring the other man completely, as he sets his hand on your leg.

He has always been a sucker for a pretty troublemaker.

Your tongue dips out to lick the rim of your glass, before taking another sip of the drink that he didn’t buy for you. “Oh, I can be very generous,” you all but purr.

“I bet,” Hangman cuts in, looking on entirely too pleased with himself.

Rooster leans in closer to you, “I thought I was the one buying your drinks tonight.” He can smell the faintest hint of your perfume, and he has to hold himself back from the urge to run his nose along the column of your neck to get a better whiff of it.

“I’m an equal opportunity drink receiver,” you say with a little shrug of your shoulder.

“Mhm, sounds good for the economy,” he allows.

“I do love to support small businesses.”

“There’s nothing small about it, baby,” Bradley says sliding his palm up higher on your thigh than would be considered decent. From the corner of his eye he can see Hangman clocking the movement. That shit eating grin going from teasing to knowing as he flips that stupid toothpick in his mouth.

“Was wondering how long it was going to take you to make a move,” Jake says reaching under your stool and pulling it out further from the way you’d been half tucked underneath the bartop. “Thought you were gonna just keep staring all night.”

“Nah, just thought I’d give you a fair shot. You know, since you usually rub people the wrong way,” Rooster smirks.

“Oh, now you and I both know I’d treat her just right,” Hangman says smoothly, not missing a beat. “You think you can keep up with a pretty thing like her, old man? Wouldn’t want to keep you from your Dan Brown novel or anything.”

“I’m sure I got a thing or two I could show you, son.”

The other pilot takes your chin between his thumb and finger turning your head to look at him, that grin bigger than ever, “You up for settling something between us, darlin’?”

Rooster is close enough to hear the hitch in your breathing and definitely close enough to see the way your thighs squeeze together.

“I guess that’s one way to up the ante,” you say as you reach up to pluck that toothpick from his mouth and popping it in yours instead. Grinning slyly around it as you uncross your legs to turn back towards him, your eyebrow cheekily cocked up and questioning.

Rooster’s eyes drift over to Seresin’s mouth. That cocky smirk plastered on his face takes him back to another time, on another night similar to this, when his lips had been slick-shined and that smile just as smug and self-satisfied.

He’s not sure how many bills he tossed on top of the bar before he grabbed your hand and tugged you off the stool, towing you with him as he strode to the door. Not bothering to check and see if the other man is following them, he already knows where he’ll be.

Bradley holds the door open for you to step through under his arm and the last thing he sees before he lets the door close behind him is Nat’s shocked face and Fanboy’s fist punching the air as Jake trails after them.

You felt too hot.

Your breathing was already coming out in ragged, breathy pants.

The ride to Rooster’s house in his bright blue Bronco had been a blur of flashing lights and warm summer air and a hand heavy on your knee. Content in the passenger’s seat, even as he sped fifteen miles over the speed limit, in the surety of knowing whose headlights were bright and beaming in the rearview mirror.

But the feeling of two hot mouths working their way up and down your neck was definitely not a blur.

They’d had you pinned up against Bradley’s front door the moment it had shut behind the three of you. Barely waiting for the snick of the lock turning before making their move.

You weren’t sure whose thigh was pressed between your legs, but the solid width of it was dizzying as you rocked against it. You feel almost too aware of every part of your body. Your skin sensitive and responsive to every graze and touch of their strong, capable hands as they coast over your body, leaving a trail of goosebumps and raised hair with every pass.

Squeezing your hips. Tangling in your hair. Gripping your ass.

Their hard bodies were so tightly crowded against yours, that you weren’t even sure at this point if your own legs were the ones keeping you up as they took what they wanted and gave what they wanted.

Your puffy, swollen lips tingling as they took turns claiming your mouth with theirs.

It’s a lot, but in the best of ways, to hear their combined moans and groans over the thundering of your pulse in your ears. Their leather and wood smoke scents mixing together in the most deliciously heady way. All their solid angles and ridges pressed against your soft curves.

You’re vibrating with anticipation- with want- as your heart flutters in your chest like a caged bird, its wings beating against the too tight confines of your ribcage.

It’s already so good and no one is even naked yet.

One of them wraps their thought provokingly large hand around your throat as pulls you in to meet their mouth, gentle yet firm. The taste of whiskey and the brush of a mustache against your upper lip giving Bradley away. While another hungry mouth glides its way along your collarbone. The graze and nip of sharp teeth has you breaking your kiss to gasp at the sensation. Only to be met with a new set of demanding lips, you can feel Jake’s smirk against your mouth the moment right before he slips you his tongue.

Your own hands are greedy to get their fill of them. Running along thick forearms and broad chests and straining zippers. You want to map out every contour of their sculpted bodies. Every new muscle you find only makes you want to discover more.

There’s a moment when you think your knees might actually give this time out when Hangman bends down to take your peaked nipple in his mouth through your thin top with a mischievous gleam in his green eyes as he looks up at you and then hollows out his cheeks. The sight and sensation of it makes you suck in a shattered breath. If it weren’t for that thigh, Rooster’s you know now, keeping you upright you very much would have been a boneless puddle on the floor.

“You still think you can handle the two of us?” Jake challenges you with a dimpled grin before pulling you back into his mouth. Your nails dig into the back of his neck to keep him there, and he has the audacity to hum around you. The vibrations of it pulsing and spreading and settling over your craving clit.

“Well?” Bradley asks teasingly when you try and fail to reply, his warm hand sliding up your stomach under your top to palm at your other breast. And whatever you were going to say evaporates at the feel of his calloused thumb scraping over your taut nipple.

His curls are a mess and that look on his face promises the best kind of trouble.

“Fuck. Fuck. B-bedroom. Now,” you stutter and stumble over your words, overcome and overwhelmed. You hear one chuckle near your ear and the other moan into your throat at the neediness in your voice.

The three of you are gracefully uncoordinated in way you work your way to Rooster’s bedroom. You let them manhandle your pliant body around the furniture and corners of his home. What should have been a fairly straight shot turned into a meandering mess as your back is met with walls and doorframes and mouth is met with seeking and searing kisses.

Their shirts and belts and shoes lost somewhere along the way. A trail of items to be found later, laid out like points on a treasure map.

Inside Bradley’s room, your distracted eyes catch on some black and white landscape prints hung on a dove gray wall and a California King pressed another. Minimal, modern, manly. You’d be more nosey if it weren’t for the way you’re caught between them, as Hangman licked up your neck and Rooster ran his tongue along the backs of your teeth.

Your skin erupts in goosebumps as the cool air of Bradley’s air conditioning wafts over your arms. Not that your low-cut top with its open back and flimsy straps offered much for warmth to begin with, which was exactly why you’d worn it in the summer heatwave.

One set of demanding hands works on the button of the fitted jeans that made your ass look great, while the other insatiable pair grabs at the hem of your top pulling it up and off of your body with silky ease. They work together in quiet tandem with such swift efficiency that leaves you almost entirely nude, with the exception of your barely-there panties, before their greedy eyes in no time at all.

“Don’t know what a desperate little thing like you is thinking by wearing white and lookin’ like an angel,” Jake drawls low and taunting against your ear, his breath warm as it sails down the column of your throat, “But since you like the color so much, I think you’d look even prettier wearing our come.”

The flickering flame in your body that had been lit before you’d even left the Hard Deck finally roars to life at his coarse and crude words. You’d almost be offended by them if they weren’t the reason heat explodes like a fireball low in your stomach. Devastating and all consuming.

The noise that tears out of you in response isn’t one you think you’ve ever made before. Your head whips towards him so fast it makes you a little unsteady on your already wobbly legs, and you feel Rooster’s fingers flex on your hips before you pull away.

There’s a wide grin plastered on Jake’s face, only a couple impeccably white and straight teeth away of being down right self-satisfied.

Smug, he’s so damn smug.

He has been ever since he saddled up to you at the bar, like he already knew how the night was going to end. And you don’t know whether you want to wipe that look off of Hangman’s pretty face or to taste those dimples on his cheeks.

You do neither.

Instead, you push Jake onto the edge of the bed, your hands going straight to his zipper to pull out his cock, then watch as that perfectly-perfect and perfectly-infuriating smile falls from his face as you sink to your knees and take him in your mouth and down to the hilt.

“Jesus Christ.”

It’s your turn to be smug now as you watch his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows hard.

Jake’s smirk is long gone, replaced with intense look as you pull off of him to lick and lave along the long vein on the side of his length, looking up at him from beneath your mascara darkened lashes, before drawing him back in your open mouth. He’s so handsome like this and it makes your stomach tighten and seize.

“So damn eager,” you hear Rooster croon over the slippery sounds of you’re making.

You feel confident and totally at home in your own skin under the appreciative eyes of the two men, with Hangman in front of you and Bradley mere steps behind you. The buzz from your tequila had worn off long ago, and the thrill you are feeling is a different kind of high.

You were already wet before you left the bar, but now you are soaked. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on, at least not for a very long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Bradley could see the evidence of your arousal glistening between your thighs from the way you’re kneeling in front of Jake.

From the corner of you eye, you can see Rooster taking his time as he shucks off the rest of his clothes haphazardly before fisting himself in his big hand as he takes in the sensual scene in front of him. You can feel all the places his eyes linger and trail over, those flames in your stomach spreading over your body like a wildfire.

Grateful for the work Bradley did getting your jeans off earlier, you slip a hand into your panties to get your fingers on your aching clit. You whimper at the instant relief that you feel as you touch yourself. Keening in pleasure around Hangman’s cock, which makes him widen his legs and throw his head back to moan in response.

This wasn’t going to be some hook up cloaked in the cover of a dark room. No, you were going to be on full display for them, just as they’d be for you. And the thought of it up makes you clench against nothing.

You were something brilliant and radiant to look at and you knew it. You wanted them to look, you wanted their eyes to take their fill.

“You going to join, Rooster? Or are you back to sittin’ on that perch?” the blonde goads him, with a sharp smile. His voice strained around the edges of his words as his fists clutch at the fabric of the duvet cover beneath them. “I’m sure you can find some way to keep yourself occupied even though her mouth busy at the moment.”

You reach up with your free hand and give that chain a little tug then dragging it down his chest, your nails digging slightly into his firm pecs before scraping down his abs. He surprises you with a light thrust of his hips that has you settling that tricky hand on his tense thigh for better balance as you continue to work him.

“Just watching how our girl is touching herself,” Bradley replies as he walks over. He is such a sight with all that sunkissed skin on display. “So needy, she can’t even bother waiting her turn.”

You hollow your cheeks around Jake for good measure before releasing him from your mouth, to grasp him in your hand, treating him to a twist of your wrist, “Got tired of waiting, had to take matters into my own hands.”

You wanted them to touch you, to feel them everywhere. You wanted to be taken apart and put back together. You wanted to be thoroughly wrecked by them.

“That so, huh?” The way that Bradley’s smile ticks up makes you suck in a sharp breath, your restless fingers making sloppy circles against that sensitive part of you at the sight of it. “Tell me, how wet are you?”

He looks so good standing next you from your position on your knees and if both of your hands weren’t already busy you’d be reaching out for his heavy cock.

“Why don’t you come find out for yourself?” you dare him, arching your back a little for his benefit.

“But you look so pretty taking care of yourself,” Rooster says cupping your cheek in his hand, then turning his head to the man seated on the bed, “Hey, Seresin, don’t you remember her saying something about her generosity?”

They grin at each other before looking back down at you, and it’s all you can to not squirm under their weighty, heated gaze.

“You know, that does seem to ring a bell, Bradshaw.” A wolf trussed up like the boy-next-door.

“Why don’t you show us just how generous you can be, pretty girl,” Rooster says reaching down pulling your hand out from your panties, his hand wrapped around your forearm, and offers up your shiny fingers to the man you’re kneeling in front of.

Hangman holds your gaze as his tongue reaches out to meet them. Your already erratic heartbeat sets a new rhythm as it slips and glides in a sensual show around them before curing around them to draw them into his cocksure mouth. A deep satisfied hum emanating from his chest as he tastes you.

Bradley releases his hold on you and skims his fingers up along your arm and up the side of your neck, massaging that tapered divot at base of your skull.

Your jaw falls open as you watch Jake bob his head on your fingers like you had been doing on his cock not even five minutes earlier. He shoots you a filthy wink was you watch the debauchery up close in personal, leaning in closer, mesmerized by the sheen of spit coating your fingers. He pulls them from your mouth with one more lewd lick, and then crooks his pointer finger under your chin and turns your head towards Rooster.

“Why don’t you be a sweet little thing and show Bradshaw what he’s missing out on, darlin’,” Jake says, its less of a suggestion and more of a command. One you are happy to oblige.

You hold your tongue out for Rooster in an open invitation and he rumbles his approval.

“Now that’s a pretty picture,” Bradley murmurs, but doesn’t move any closer. He waits for your dazed eyes to meet his heated ones, before nodding his head towards Hangman, who you’re still pumping him with long, smooth strokes, “Go on then, finish what you started. I can wait.” You make a noise of dissatisfaction at being denied the taste of him. He chuckles lightly, “I promise, we’ll take real good care of you soon.”

And with that promise you wrap your lips around Jake again. He spreads his legs wider to accommodate you as you reach to cup his balls in your hand, massaging them.

You feel Rooster settle his hand heavy on the crown of your head, his fingers threading in your hair, before pressing you forward, guiding the motion of your mouth on Jake’s cock. Encouraging you to take more, more, more before pulling you back, only to urge you forward once again.

It’s easy to lose yourself and relax into the push and pull of it as you let them take over. Letting them use you how they want, preening under their crooning praise. Hangman is looking down on you with half-lidded eyes and gives you a slow, wide smile when a thick thread of saliva drips on to your sternum and down your chest.

Your attention-seeking clit throbs in time with your rapid pulse, whimpering pitifully when you can’t get any relief no matter how you shift and squirm.

Then Bradley is tugging on your strands to get you on your feet and meets you for a heady kiss. He hooks his thumbs under the band of your panties and pulls them down your legs, a little lacy heap to decorate his floor.

“Get on the bed, baby.”

Yes, yes, oh yes.

Jake shoves his jeans down the rest of the way and kicks them off. The way he climbs on the bed is all easy grace as he props himself against the headboard. You’re quick to clamber up on your hands and knees between his legs, looking over your shoulder for Rooster’s nod of approval before you lean down to take him back in your mouth.

There has been so much build up. You know that they’ve been easing you into this in their own way, but you’re so desperate for more. You’re like balloon overfilled and taut, one right touch and you might burst.

“God, you’re already so wet.” You feel Bradley’s rough squeeze on the backs of both your thighs followed by the comforting caress of his thumbs, “C’mon, show me that pretty pussy. Let me see it.”

You tilt your hips up, up, up- you want, you need- offering yourself to him until you’re treated to his tongue on you. At last. His wide long licks have you canting your hips further searching for more. The feeling of his lips and mustache against that delicate part of you makes you cry out in satisfaction.

“So greedy,” Jake teases, as his thumb runs gently along your jawline.

He is hot and heavy on your tongue. There is a light sheen of sweat coating his chest, his abs flexing and contracting with every uneven breath. That chain around his neck winking at you from the lamp in the corner of the room. He called you an angel earlier, but he’s the one who looks like sweet sin, a heavenly hedonist.

The filthy sounds of your messy mouth and Rooster’s satisfied groans filling the room as you work one pilot and the other works you. You can feel your orgasm building swiftly, those flames from before being stoked by their grasping hands and teasing lips and dirty words.

The shock of the feeling two of Bradley’s thick fingers glide and curl into you without any resistance, of having something inside of you for the first time all night, sends your body jolting forward. Your hands clutching at the sheets as you sputter and gag around Jake.

“Holy shit,” he pulls you off of him with a pop, a line of spit stretching from your mouth to his glistening cock, “Don’t want to come in your mouth.” Hangman takes your head between his big hands, cradling you carefully. “Goddamn, look at you. You feelin’ good?” It’s all you can do to rapidly nod your head yes. “You should see her, Rooster, she’s real close.”

You hear Bradley chuckle huskily behind you, “And we’ve barely even gotten started.” He targets that spot in you with merciless precision as he scrapes his mustache along your spine dropping kiss after wet kiss. “Now, come on my fingers like a good girl.”

And with his raspy voice in your ear and Jake’s tongue in your mouth, you shatter.

It’s all white noise as one of the maneuvers you gently on to your back as you come down. The feeling of the cool sheets a welcomed sensation on your heated skin. Even though you’re still reeling, you can hear the warmth in their voices as your mind clings to a few select words.

Good. Perfect. Soft. Sweet. Pretty. Generous.

You feel a body shift above you, their sturdy weight only an echo of what it could be if they weren’t holding themselves aloft. Your eyes float open to see Rooster caging you on his bed within the shelter of his sculpted arms.

Next to you Jake is propped up his side, the graze of his fingertips is featherlight as they meander up and down the length of your arm. As if he is content to simply be touching your soft skin.

“You still having fun?” Bradley asks with a knowing smile on his face. Using his thumb, he wipes at some of the saliva smeared under your bottom lip.

“The most,” you grin, turning your head to capture it between your lips.

Rooster watches you in rapt as you suck, giving his thumb the same treatment as you’d given Hangman’s cock, all wet tongue and hollowed out cheeks. The pupils of his pretty brown eyes blown wide. His cock resting heavy on your stomach.

“We’re gonna make a mess out of you,” Bradley promises as he presses his thumb down on your tongue. You look up at him with your best doe-eyes, parting your mouth to give him a better view of the way it pillows around his thumbpad. He applies a bit more pressure with a smirk before removing it from your mouth completely.

“Yes, please.”

He leans in close and your eyes flutter shut at the anticipation of the brush of his lips on yours.

And then he spits right in your waiting mouth.

“Atta girl.”

His smile grows at the whine that comes out of you. He drops a kiss to your forehead and stands back up, towering over you. It’s a visual feast of abs and broad shoulders and tan skin and mischievous eyes. “Pretty sure you almost made Jake see God,” he says looking over, giving the other man a lazy smirk.

“Fuck off,” he says without heat and laughs. Leaning over from where he’s been lounging next to you, he wraps his hand around the nape of our neck and pulls you in, licking deep into your mouth wet with his pre-come and Rooster’s spit. “How’s about you finally show Bradshaw what that pretty mouth can do, while I settle up and repay the favor.”

You don’t know what to make of the look that passes between the two men as they switch spots. It’s a challenge, it’s a dare. You’re still loose-limbed from your orgasm, but you can feel the tension starting to coil low in your stomach again at the glint in their eyes as Bradley crowds up next to you on the bed while Jake stands at the end of it.

Rooster kisses up along your body, his tongue darting out to taste the beads of sweat that are collecting in the valley of your breasts. If you listen closely you can still hear the whir of the air conditioning, but it’s not of much use when you feel like an inferno.

You sigh out when his mouth meets yours. You grasp his face between your hands to keep him close, not wanting to be denied his lips again. Your thumb stroking at the cleft of his chin. Finally. Finally. Finally. You feel like spun sugar, the wet slide of his lips against yours makes you feel like you’re about to dissolve into sweet nothingness.

There’s no hesitation in the way that Hangman situates himself between your parted legs, easing one over his shoulder and then the other. He trails butterfly kisses from your knee and up the inside of your leg. You shiver at the sensation, luxuriating in his touch.

“Condoms?” Jake asks into the crease of your thigh.

You shake your head and let go of Bradley’s face to tap at the spot on your upper arm where that flexible piece of plastic is placed under the skin. They nod their understanding, their agreement.

At least someone still had their feet on the ground, because it feels like your head is in the clouds.

“Thought you said I’d look prettier covered in come?” you try to tease but it just comes out breathy, throwing Hangman’s own words from earlier back at him. Then turning your head to look at Rooster next to you, “Thought you were going to make a mess out of me?”

You know you’re playing with fire. However, you also know that if at any point you couldn’t handle the heat that they would haul you out of the kitchen themselves.

But why stay out of the kitchen when you can just set it on fire yourself?

“Jesus,” Jake curses and nips at your hipbone.

“Fuck’s sake, you really can’t help yourself, can you?” Bradley huffs amused but strained, his eyes raking over you.

The nope and the ‘P’ you were planning to pop gets stuck in your throat as Hangman pins your legs open to the bed, holding you down so you can’t escape his tongue as he licks a hot stripe through the center of you. Your jaw drops open wordlessly.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?” Hangman grunts and then dips his tongue into you again.

One of your hands flies into his sandy blonde hair, while the other reaches out for the sunkissed man next to you. The feeling of Rooster’s fingers lacing between your outstretched ones grounding you as the pressure starts building again.

Where Bradley had been all enthusiastic delving and relentless devouring, Jake is all honed accuracy as he flicks and circles and sucks your clit. There’s no slow build up, he’s not content to simply let you sail smoothly into your next orgasm, not with the way his fingers are working you. No, Jake is set on being the one to push you over that edge himself. And he’ll do it with a blinding white smile and a tip of his hat.

Bradley moves to kneel by your head, stroking his thick cock a few times before offering it to you. The groan that comes out of him when you lick the underside of him before taking him in your mouth is quite possibly one of the hottest sounds you’ve ever heard in your life. His large hand comes to cradle your jaw as you bob up and down on his length.

It doesn’t take long until you’re keening and moaning around him as you come alive under their eyes and touch.

“You look so pretty like this,” Rooster murmurs, his thumb alternating between gliding around your stretched lips and caressing your bulging cheek. “You’re taking my cock so well.”

You know you’re making a mess out of him, but if anything, you feel him grow even harder in your mouth as you take him further into your throat. The sounds coming from you obscene as you lick and suck and swallow around him. You’re trying to stay focused on taking care of him, but Hangman’s tongue and fingers are making it hard for you to concentrate.

Jake is relentless with the two fingers he has working inside of you. His other hand smooths up your torso, long fingers stretched wide, as if he is trying to touch as much of you as possible. And then he’s grabbing at your breasts, massaging one and then moving to the other.

It’s getting overwhelming with so many points of pleasure all vying for your undivided attention. You feel so good, too good. Your chest is tight with want it’s getting harder to take a full breath, the shallow shaky things you’ve been taking making you lightheaded.

You blindly mouth at Rooster’s cock and balls and thighs, whatever you can reach and latch onto as you let your hand take over stroking him. Just for a moment, just to catch your breath.

You whimper when Bradley pulls away from you, only to feel his big body slide down on the bed next to you, his warm hands soothing over your too tight skin.

“That mouth too much for you, Rooster?” Jake grins with shiny lips before slipping a third finger into you, curling them against your front wall, making you keen.

“I know, it’s a lot, but you’re keeping up with us like a champ,” Bradley says to you, pulling you in for a kiss. He reaches down for one of your thighs, pulling it off the other pilot’s shoulder and over his own hip, holding you open. His hand knocks Hangman’s thumb out of the way and his takes over making nonsensical patterns on your clit, making you moan at the contact. “And you should go back to making yours more useful,” he lobs back to the man between your legs.

In your haze, you wonder how they can even share the skies if they’re this competitive in the bedroom.

“Yeah, and what’s yours doin’ up there?” Jake asks, giving it right back to him. You can hear how wet you are as his fingers slide in and out of you, as the Bradley picks up the pace of his movements against you.

“Someone’s got to tell her how good she’s doing,” you can hear the smile in Rooster’s voice as he kisses your neck. He gently runs his lips and mustache along the shell of your ear, “We know how much she like a compliment.”

“Bradley.” The admonishment is lost in your gasp as the faintest graze of his fingernail again your sensitive clit has your back arching off the mattress and your hips bucking against both sets of hands.

“You sound so wrecked, baby. I like how my name sounds in your mouth when you’re all fucked out like this.”

“And those whimpers? I swear, she making the sweetest sounds I’ve ever heard,” Hangman tacks on.

You want to give as good as you’re getting, but your hurtling towards that point again. Already teetering back and forth, almost but not quite there. Overwhelmed, oversensitive, but still needing, wanting...

“More, I need more, Jake,” you’re not quite begging but you’re close, your heel is digging into his shoulder blade, urging him closer. “Jake, I want to come.”

Your clit is aching under Rooster’s teasing touch, and you are squirming and shifting and rocking trying to get more of Jake’s fingers inside of you. You groan when Jake pulls them out of you completely, stopping your motions with a rough grip on your hips. Somewhere in the back of your mind you find yourself hoping that you’ll still be wearing his fingerprints tomorrow morning.

“Nu-uh, greedy girl, you’ll take what we give you,” Hangman says as he stands up and wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, a streak of your wetness shining on his cheek.

And then his thick cock is pushes into you and all the air leaves your lungs.

His thrusts are measured and slow and sure. Filling you up and then leaving you empty, over and over and over again. His fingers are still digging into your hips leaving you at his mercy, to take what he gives you. Nothing more and nothing less than what he wants.

You didn’t know All-American Texan boys could pull of such a dirty look of pure debauchery, but he wore it so damn well.

There’s no holding back the noise of frustration that comes out of you when Rooster’s teeth graze over your breast, before he sucks your nipple into his hot mouth. He is hard and hot as he grinds himself against the curve of you.

It would be so, so good if didn’t felt like you were bobbing along in a wooden barrel waiting for a drop over Niagara Falls. The anticipation of that freefall thrumming in your veins, but one that never seems to get any closer as you dangle there.

“Stop teasing me,” you whine.

Jake pushes into you with that same devasting slowness and then stops, his hips pressed tightly against yours. “I’m inside you, aren’t I?” he challenges with a raise of his eyebrow.

You don’t want to agree, what you want is to come. With great effort on your part you reluctantly nod your head, hoping your cooperation will get him to speed up or go harder. You’d literally anything to stop feeling like a butterfly with its wings pinned open and preserved.

“Then I ain’t teasin’.”

Those dimples are on full display, as he pulls out leisurely, letting your feel every bit of him, and then pounds into you.

You’re thankful when he takes pity on you and the rolling of his hips picks up. Harder, faster, deeper. His chest is flushed pink, making that golden chain stand out even more. A bead of sweat works its way down his neck, between his defined pecs, and travels along the contours of his sculpted body.

“Jesus, did you talk this much last time, Seresin?” Rooster asks, pulling his mouth off of you to watch as his own fingers and Hangman’s cock work together in sync between your thighs.

“And he said I was the mouthy one,” you all but pant out.

You tug on his curls trying to get him to put his mouth back on your breast, his spit cooling on your nipple making it pebble more than you thought possible. Instead, he just smirks down at you, and applies more pressure on your clit. Those nonsensical patterns transforming into tight devastating circles.

“I need… I need-”

“Such a bossy thing,” Jake mutters, “Only thing you need to be focusing on, darlin’, is falling apart for me.” The edge in his voice and the strain of his thighs as he thrusts into you the only things giving him away that he’s just as desperate as you are. “Rooster wants to watch you come. Isn’t that right, Bradshaw?”

“Sure do,” he agrees against the pounding pulse point on your throat. You don’t need a mirror to know the delicate skin is agitated from the coarse hairs of his mustache. The heat rolling off of him in waves is a contrast to the draft of the air conditioning hitting your body just right from the way he has you spread open over his hip. “I wanna see that pretty face as you come around his cock.”

Your fingers scramble to find something, anything to hold on to. Feeling like the seams of your skin, those silken threads of the last of your resolve, fray and snap. Rooster’s eyes holding yours as you start to unravel.

The sound of skin on skin fills your ears, followed by Hangman’s ragged breathing as you flutter and clench against him. “You feel so fucking good around me,” he moans, “Such a perfect pussy.”

Lightening hot pleasure races along your spine before shooting out along your muscles and tendons and ligaments, all the things keeping your body together. And your mind whites out as you come for them.

You feel Jake’s rhythm falter and stutter as he works to get himself closer of that place of perfect devastation, as you shutter and quake from the aftershock. He fucks into you harder chasing his own climax before emptying himself inside of you.

His cock buried so deep in you as you take his come. The two of you both breathing hard.

Bradley slips his wet fingers into your mouth and you lave the taste of yourself off of his skin almost in a daze as you wait for the gravity to settle into your weightless limbs. His lips are gentle as he trails soft kisses along your hairline, his hardness pressed against you a reminder there’s still more in store for you.

You whimper when Jake pulls out of you.

“Knew you’d look good like this,” he says running his hands along the tops of your thighs and watching as his come trickles out of you onto Bradley’s duvet.

Rooster takes his fingers from your mouth and nudges his nose against your heated cheek, “You still got more in you?”

He pulls away, those brown eyes searching yours.

“Want your cock,” you whisper and lean in for a kiss. He meets you with tenderness, while you meet him with heat. Licking into him the moment he parts his lips for you.

Hangman gives your thighs one last squeeze and lets go.

“Come ‘ere,” Rooster grunts as he shifts and pulls you on top of him, lining himself up with your dripping cunt. You don’t dare look away as he slowly feeds you the generous length of him, inch by inch.

You drape yourself across him and burry your face in that spot between his neck and shoulder at the stretch of him as he fills the space between your legs. Feeling the muscles of his arms wrapped around you. His wood smoke scent filling your nose. The salt of him on your tongue as you lick at the sweat that’s collected along the line of his collarbone.

It is dizzying being this surrounded by Bradley, he’s everywhere.

“How are you still so tight? You literally just took his cock,” he rasps.

You feel a hand brush back some of the hair from your face and you turn your head into the warm touch. When you open your eyes, you see Jake crouching there by the bed next to you, his green eyes filled with affection, “You doing a good job for Rooster too?”

“Yes,” you sigh as Bradley hums his agreement. The deep, languid roll of hips as he thrusts into you, working you open for his cock, is so good that it makes fingers dig into his biceps.

“Good girl,” he says, nipping at you ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek, “Keep doing her like that, Rooster, her legs are startin’ to shake.”

And then he lands an open-handed slap to your ass that makes you clench and Rooster groan as he laughs lightly to himself, entirely too pleased.

It’s a masterpiece of teeth and tongues, moans and gasps, and dirty praise rumbled into ears. When that telltale tightness in your stomach starts, you begin rocking back against him desperately. Meeting him thrust for thrust. You’re so coiled in knots that not even the most seasoned sailor could untangle you.

You can feel your orgasm rising up to meet you. So close, so close.

And then choking down a sob as you’re pulled upright to a sitting position astride Bradley, with Hangman’s forearm banded around your waist and supported by his dewy chest.

“‘s too big,” you whimper.

“Ah, ah. There you go, you can take it,” Jake coaches into your ear as he encourages you to take more of Rooster’s cock. “You’re almost there. Just a little bit more.”

Bradley licks his lips as he watches you writhe and squirm above him until there’s no space between your bodies. His fingertips digging into your hipbones. The stretch of him making you ache in the best of ways, your eyes fluttering at the sensation of sinking impossibly further on him. Both hands braced on his chest, thumbs seeking the little patch of chest hair.

You lean your head back and are met with Jake’s mouth. His kiss filthy as his teeth graze against your full bottom lip and his tongue sweeps against yours.

There are no words for how full you feel, for how good you feel.

Bradley’s face and neck are flushed and his waves are a mess from your handiwork. And you’re struck again by just how handsome he is. You give him a roll of your hips, anticipating a thrust that doesn’t come. Your eyebrows pinch together and you try again to get him to meet you half way. Waiting, waiting, waiting for more.

“I want-”

“I know what you want,” Rooster croons as he cuts you off, sliding a hand up your pulled too taut body to palm at your breast. You whine when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger and then tugs. “C’mon, want to see you ride me. That’s it, baby, use me to get yourself off.”

The wet, sticky sounds of your own arousal and Jake’s come are amplified in the quiet room as you fuck yourself on Bradley’s cock. The sweat is collecting behind your knees and along your hairline. You let your head lull back onto Jake’s shoulder, knowing he’ll keep you upright.

You want to be good for him. You want to be good for them.

Both men have been determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from your body and then asked for even more. The burn in your thighs so good as you rock and grind on the man beneath you, but you don’t know how much more you have left to give.

“Doing still alright, darlin’?”

You turn your head enough to mouth along Jake’s jawline and hope he takes it for the yes your tongue is too tired to say.

“Think our girl’s getting worn out,” Bradley says sympathetically, but is looking up at you with pride in his eyes.

“You’ve been doing so well for us. How about you let Rooster and I take care of you now, huh?”

“Please.” It sounds pitiful even in your own ears, but you can’t be bothered to care too much at the moment.

You whimper quietly as Jake’s warm, heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades and presses you back down.

Bradley wraps his arms around you holding you close against his sweat-slicked chest. The tears prickle in the corner of your eyes as you tuck your head back into his neck, knowing that the two men are more than capable to get you there again. That they’ll take care of you.

That you can just feel, that you can just be, that you can just take.

“Hold her open for me, Bradshaw.”

You feel Bradley’s hands slide around you, grabbing rough handfuls of your ass. You’re exposed in a different way you’ve been all night, under Jake’s sharp, keen eyes that you can’t see but feel on you all the same, as the other man pumps in and out of you.

“You should see how she’s dripping down you, Rooster. That cunt is coating you real good.”

“I don’t need to see it, when I can feel it,” he pants against your ear. You want to remind them that it’s not just only your arousal alone that’s making a sure to be shiny mess along the length of him, but it’s all you can do to clutch at Bradley’s waves as he keeps building you up.

Of all the things you were experiencing in that moment, it’s no surprise that you miss the subtle ghosting of Jake’s warm breath over that pleated part of you, but it’s the feeling of his wet tongue skimming around the rim of it that send you reeling.

“Fuck me,” Rooster moans, his arms tightening around you, “Whatever you just did, do it again. She liked it. Didn’t you, baby?” You babble out something unintelligible as you fist his hair, but your vigorous nod can’t be interpreted for anything other than your enthusiastic consent. “Could feel that you did, gotta give our girl what she likes. She deserves it after being so good for us.”

His voice huskier, rougher than you’ve ever heard it. That slight accent that only sometimes made an appearance, finally out in full force.

You let out a strangled cry when Hangman does it again, your toes curling at the new feeling. You’ve never taken two men like that before, but even the idea of it makes you lightheaded.

From there you lose yourself in the dueling sensations. At Bradley’s ruinous, deep thrusts. Of his perfect cock hitting you just right, targeting that spot that has you quaking. Of Hangman’s tricky tongue circling, circling. And his thick finger pressing.

Circling, circling, pressing.

Circling, circling, pressing. Until-

“Ah!”

You bite down on that pretty scar on Rooster’s shoulder, needing something to keep you from feeling like you were going to fly away. From feeling like you could explode into nothingness. It’s a different kind of fullness, one that steals your breath even as it gives you life.

“That’s it, nice and easy, darlin’.”

There’s nothing nice or easy about the two men working you. The push and pull of them so in tune with each other, so set on making you see stars one last time.

“I can feel you’re there. Want you to come on this cock,” Bradley grits out, as he thrusts into you, his hands spreading you wider for his benefit and Jake’s. The tendon on is throat standing out in a way that makes your mouth water. “Come on, come for us.”

When you come with a cry, body shaking and back arching with devastating pleasure. It’s an orgasm that gives as much as it and takes and takes and takes.

Rooster is swift to follow after you with a couple more powerful thrusts, as he spills himself inside of you with a low, satisfied groan. You spasm and quiver and convulse around him, milking him with every tremor that dances through your thoroughly spent body.

When you come to, the first thing you’re aware of is how perfectly warm you are pressed between two hard bodies. The next is the delicious ache between your thighs and the mess there, as you grin to yourself with your eyes closed. Luxuriating in the endorphin rush as it washes over you.

A calloused thumb strokes your cheek.

“There she is,” you hear Jake say.

Someone’s long fingers thread between your own, squeezing your hand.

“Jesus, fuck,” you hear Bradley pant next to you, “How was that even better than last time?”

“More practice?” you offer, finally opening your eyes.

Both men look a sweaty mess, their hair a riot and their cheeks still pink from the exertion. And you know you probably aren’t faring much better, but it’s the warm affection and the easy smiles on their faces that sets your heart a racing again.

It’s been a little over four years since you had first met the two of them in Pensacola during a training contingent for a recon mission.

You were about to call it a night at the Navy bar near the base, mentally cursing whoever signed off on sending you to the state in the middle of a heat wave, when a broad man in a Hawaiian shirt had slid up to you at the bar. It would have been comical on anyone with less muscles, but he also had the smile to pull it off. You didn’t quite know what to make of it at first when the clean-cut blonde, the one with a mega-watt grin and a toothpick gripped between his teeth, had set a drink in front of you with a wink.

There wasn’t any way of missing the tension radiating between them, but you weren’t about to get caught in the middle of their petty pissing contest. You knew a rivalry when you saw one. And they were pilots after all, you knew their type.

It wasn’t until you held that chilled glass up to your overheated neck, catching the way they both tracked that bead of condensation as it traveled down your throat and disappearing between your cleavage, that you thought things could get interesting.

And well, it had escalated quickly from there.

“I haven’t even been here seventy-two hours yet, and I’ve already heard about your fabled hook up twice,” you say with a giggle, leaning your forehead on Jake’s shoulder.

“Mm, I’ve heard that rumor too,” Rooster chuckles.

“Who knew the Navy had so many damn gossips,” Hangman laughs, “I swear to god, they talk more shit than the little old ladies in my grandma’s knitting circle.”

Bradley picks up your entwined hands and brings them to his mouth, kissing your fingertips with a fond look in his eyes, “So how long are you here for?”

“Well, speaking of rumors,” you say conspiratorially, “Have you heard the one about a certain Chief Warrant Officer Bernie Coleman and the opening on his new strategic team for a permanent member?” The teasing smirk growing on your face as the realization dawns on them.

You had been treating yourself to a celebratory drink at the finalized paperwork and impending transfer when Rooster had spotted you sitting there earlier when the whole night truly began.

“Huh,” Bradley says with a sly smile, “Now that sure is one interesting rumor. The person who lands that gig must be very smart. Sounds like that certain someone would be the right person to settle a bet. ”

“Mhm and probably very full of good ideas,” you can’t help but preen.

“What do you say, Rooster, best two out of three?” Jake asks, with a cheeky gleam in his eyes, “You up for a little tiebreaker, darlin?”

You look from one to the other with a grin.

“I’m all in.”

In the immortal words of the Spice Girls "spice up your life" 💃🏼 Thanks for reading!

Many thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse and @laracrofted for their help!

This was written as part of @sushiwriterhere Threesomissance 2023 event!

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bloatedandalone04 · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Like Cinnamon

➪the one where bradley goes down on you in public.

Warnings: established relationship, oral (f receiving), fingering, smut, public smut, fluff, bradley worshipping you the whole time, swearing

Word Count: 3.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Your freshly painted red nails traced the top of the bar as you held eye contact with a smirking Penny. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the movement of her hand as she wiped away the remnants of spilled beer on the surface.

Watching as her eyes flickered behind you a few times, a glint of mischief in them as she seems to have a silent and wordless conversation with someone just across the bar, you know she wants you to cave in and turn around.

You knew who held contact with her when she wasn’t looking at you. It was the same person who was talking to her in the wordless conversation as his mouth opened to sing the lyrics of a song.

The same person who was burning a hole in your back from all his staring.

Still, you refused to meet the eyes of the unbelievably attractive man sitting at the piano. Refused to play into his games and his heated stare.

The song wrapped up a few minutes later and you brought the glass of vodka-cranberry up to your lips, the sound of the large ring on your finger hitting the glass barely being heard throughout the Hard Deck.

Penny watched something behind you, the movement of her eyes telling you that the hot performer was currently making his way towards the bar.

You were proven right when you felt the heat of his body radiate onto yours as he leaned on the bar next to you. “Hey, pretty girl,”

From your spot on the stool, his height easily towered over you and intimidated you in the best way. “Hi,” came your short and sharp response.

Penny gave the two of you a knowing look and slid him a beer before moving to the other end of the bar. His hands wrapped around the cold glass as he brought it up to his lips for a quick sip, turning his body towards you after he set it back down. “I couldn’t help but notice that you never turned to look at me while I was playing. Not even once,” his deep voice accused in a teasing tone. “You missed quite the show.”

One corner of your lips turned upwards as you glanced over at him, keeping your hands wrapped around your drink. “Did I?” You ask, feigning innocence. When he nodded once and inched closer, you tilt your head as you apologize, “I am awfully sorry. I just didn’t want to distract you while you were showing off.”

He matches your smirk. “If that’s the case, you probably should have stayed home,” he leaned in to brush his lips against your ear. “‘Cause I had my eyes on you the whole time.”

You raise a brow when he pulls back and brings the beer to his lips once again, his tongue running over his mustache afterwards. Biting your tongue to stop the sound from leaving your mouth at the sight, you turn your body to face him fully. “Did you?” You ask and hear him hum in response, keeping his head forward as he runs his finger around the rim of the glass. “I guess I’ll have to make it up to you.”

Placing your hand on his chest, you bunch the fabric of his hawaiian button up between your fingers and pull him towards you. His attention leaves his drink completely as you tug him forward and he turns his head just as you lean up and press your lips to his.

Your ring-clad hand slides upwards and wraps around the back of his neck while both of his grip the sides of your face. He turns your body and presses your back against the side of the bar top with little effort, and his strength, mixed with the feeling of his lips, makes you feel dizzy.

With his chest pressed to yours, and your back pressed to the bar, you had barely enough room to breathe as you pulled away from the kiss that was quickly becoming too heated to be acceptable in public.

Keeping your hand on his neck, you allow your fingers to gently play with the strands of hair that littered the back of it as you gaze up at the prettiest pair of brown eyes you had ever seen.

You weren’t surprised to find him already staring down at you. As you hold eye contact, a grin grows on his lips as he brushes his nose against yours. “Hi, pretty girl,”

“Hi, baby,” you murmur back, watching as his face flushes with a grin at the pet name.

“Not in public,” he mumbled, his fingers softly caressing your jaw.

“Why not?” You purr, placing your other hand on his hip, squeezing just slightly as you continued, “Afraid your masculine image will be ruined if one of the guys hears me call you that?”

He shakes his head, drawing you closer to him. “No,” he answers truthfully, his hands sliding down to gently press against the base of your throat. “You know what it does to me.”

You smirk at that and sway your head to the side to rid the fallen strands of hair from your face. “That I do,” you nod in agreement. “It’s why I say it.”

Bradley grunts quietly, placing his hands on the bar on either side of you. “You’re the worst,”

“You love me anyway,” you give his hip another squeeze.

“That I do,” he repeats your words before closing the distance once more and connecting your lips in a searing kiss. Your hands settle on his chest while his grips your waist, his fingers bunching up your pretty white sundress.

Tilting your head to the side, you allow his tongue to poke out and part your lips before meeting your own. The muscles slide against one another easily and skillfully, this clearly not being your first heated bar makeout.

The kiss was becoming borderline inappropriate as he tugs you impossibly closer to him, his hands sliding up your back while yours grab onto his shoulders.

Forgetting that you two were currently in a very public setting, you pull away with a blush when you hear Penny’s voice from behind you, “Alright, lovebirds, break it up before things turn a bit too R-rated for my patrons to handle,” she teases, tossing a cloth over her shoulder as she braces herself against the other side of the bar. “You and I both know your friends are children stuck in adult bodies, Rooster.”

He laughs at that, pulling you close to him by caressing the back of your head. You snuggle into his side as he drapes his arm over your shoulder. “Can’t say you’re wrong there,” he agrees and laughs again when you lightly slap his chest before wrapping your arms around his middle. “Sorry, Penny, we’ll take it down a notch.”

Your smirk grows at that as you slip one of your hands in his back pocket, feeling the way he tensed up at the feeling of your wandering hands. “Our bad,” you say. “We just got caught up in the moment.”

Penny just shakes her head with a smile. “Don’t worry about it, kids,” she waves you off with a wink. “You’re young and in love, enjoy it.”

And enjoy it you will.

After she walks away, Bradley turns back to you and immediately presses his lips to yours once again, Penny’s warnings seeming to have gone in one ear and out the other.

You kiss him back, your hands sliding down his arms as they search for his. With your drinks long since forgotten, you kiss him one more time before pulling away, leaving his lips chasing after yours as you lead him across the bar.

Bradley follows after you quickly, his hands moving to grip your hips when he nearly fell forward before he caught himself. You hold back a laugh at the way he almost tripped in an attempt to get you to move faster to your destination, a smug smirk staying on your lips afterwards.

You turned to head towards the door, but stopped when you felt his arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against his chest. His mouth was next to your ear and you felt his heavy breaths against the skin of your shoulder as he mumbled, “Bathroom,” and you were about to question him when he continued, “I can’t drive like this.”

You knew what he was talking about, more like you could feel it poking against you as he shielded himself with your body.

He was worked up, both from his performance and from the heated makeout he had just taken part in. His face was heated up and his eyes, though hidden behind his aviators, were blown wide with lust.

It never did take much to get him going when it came down to you. He learned that pretty quickly back when he first met you nearly three years ago. The high he felt after getting up from his place behind the piano only increased when he returned to his rightful spot beside you. Once he was back in the aroma of that vanilla body spray you always wore, he was done for.

“You could always let me drive, you know,” you trail off, knowing damn well he would never let you drive the Bronco.

But, instead of immediately brushing that idea off, like you expected him to, he just shook his head and gently pushed you into the small bathroom. “Never going to happen,” he said, shutting and locking the door behind him before turning back to you.

You, his sweet girl who looked so effortlessly pretty standing in the limited space of the bathroom, just waiting for him to make his next move.

Bradley takes the glasses off and tosses them into the curve of the sink, the well-being of his aviators the furthest thing on his mind.

His eyes linger on the fabric of your white dress, the flowy material making you look like something straight out of heaven. Your face was quickly heating up under his intense gaze, your heart beating loudly in your ears.

It wasn’t loud enough for you to miss the way he beckoned you over to him with a murmured, “Come here, pretty girl,”

You oblige without any hesitation, walking the two steps towards him and sighing against his mouth when he grabbed the back of your head with one hand and pressed his lips against yours.

The kiss was rough and desperate and needy. Bradley wasn’t holding back now that he was away from the teasing eyes of Penny, and that was evident in the way he took full control over your mouth. His other hand came up to grip the side of your face and angle your head so he could have better access to your lips.

His mouth completely covered yours as he turned you around and pressed you against the chipped door, his free hand coming up to lift the bottom of your dress slightly. “Bradley,” you murmured against his lips, feeling the tip of his tongue ease its way into your mouth. His hand tugged your dress up further until it was bunched around your waist, and you moaned against his mouth as you felt his fingers caress your clit through the black lace fabric that shielded your core from the chilled air.

“I know, pretty girl,” he mumbled back, breaking the kiss to attach his lips to your neck. “You drive me crazy, too.”

“I need you,” you breathed out as his finger began rubbing circles against you. “Fuck, I need you so bad, please.”

Bradley loved it when you begged for him. It didn’t matter where you were, whether he was under you, on top of you, in you, he loved it when your voice became higher. He had an undeniable feeling of pride that took over him whenever you pleaded for him to fuck you, he had no choice but to give in to you every single time.

His mustache tickled your skin as he trailed his kisses further and further down your body, his lips pausing above the black lace that hid your core from him. He lifted his head just slightly, keeping eye contact with you as he leaned forward and ran his tongue along your fabric covered slit.

A moan of relief escapes your lips as you reach down to rest your hands on his shoulders. “God,”

He grinned up at you and trailed his hands up the sides of your thighs. “Not quite,” his voice sounded raspy and it only made your skin burn hotter with need. “I prefer Bradley. Your Bradley.”

A possessive look formed in his eyes for a brief second before his lust for you overpowered it.

It had you clenching around nothing as you whimpered.

“Fuck,” you breathed out and watched as he pulled the fabric down your legs and guided it around your heels before stuffing it in his jean pocket. He sends you a cheeky look when he saw you raise a brow at that, before leaning back in and wrapping his lips around your clit. “Oh, my G-”

You cut yourself off when Bradley pulled away and looked up at you, mischief swimming in his brown eyes.

“Bradley,” you corrected yourself and watched a smirk slowly form on his lips.

“Better,” he said before his tongue was poking out to lick a stripe up your slit. You moan and it quickly turns into a gasp as he grabs your right leg and lifts it up so you could rest your thigh on his shoulder.

He had much better access to your heat like this, and the need to make you come all over his tongue was all he could feel as he began to work the muscle in and out of you.

Bradley groaned loudly at the sweet taste that only belonged to you. He couldn’t bring himself to care if he was heard over the music that flooded from the jukebox, and he knew you wouldn’t care either. He couldn’t help but praise you every single time you gave him the opportunity to go down on you. You tasted so good, he just had to let you know, whether that be with words or sounds of pleasure on his end.

His groan vibrated your soaking walls and you tip your head back against the door with a quiet thud. Your fingers tangle in his hair as your lips part slightly when he flattened his tongue and moved his head so it could drag back up your slit. He finished the single movement by sucking your clit into his mouth harshly, making your legs shake and tingle as you tried to hold yourself up.

With one of your hands buried in his hair, you use your free one to reach down and grip the frame of the door in hopes to regain some form of stability as his tongue darts back into your wetness.

You stifle a moan by biting into your bottom lip and breaking eye contact, the sight of him on his knees for you being far too much for you to handle right now. You were worried someone would hear you if you were to continue to hold eye contact when he was looking at you like you were the single most important thing in his life.

But Bradley has told you those exact words more than once now, and he really did not care if anyone heard just how good he was making you feel. “Don’t hold back those pretty sounds you make only for me, baby,” he murmured against the skin of your inner thigh as he pressed a few kisses to it. His right hand trailed up your other leg and settled in between the two, his index and middle finger easily sliding inside your walls.

You choke out a moan and spare a glance down at him, seeing him already looking up at you with glistening lips and his teeth on display in a grin. “Holy fuck,” you say breathlessly and tug on his hair a bit. “Bradley.”

“That’s right, baby,” he hummed in approval, nudging his nose against your clit. “Let them all hear who’s making you feel so good right now. The only one allowed to have you like this.”

That possessive look was back and it had you clenching around his fingers as he fucked them in and out of you. Bradley leans back in and sucks on your clit again while his fingers sped up their pace, the wet sound of them dragging against your walls and the whimpers leaving your mouth was all that could be heard in the small bathroom.

“Fucking hell, Bradley,” you moaned and raked your hands through his hair again, feeling his grunt against your bundle of nerves. The contrast of your red nails, and the engagement ring on your finger, peeking through his dark strands was such a pretty sight and it only had you moaning a bit louder as he tugged you closer to him. His tongue was relentless against your clit as his fingers fucked into you quicker, and you had no choice but to close your eyes as you felt the knot in your stomach begin to tighten. “Oh, fuck.”

Bradley pulled away from your clit, his thumb moving to keep the pressure his tongue gave you, and leaned back so he could gaze up at you. “You’re close, hm, pretty girl?” He teased and turned his head to press a chaste kiss to the side of your knee before gently sucking on the skin. “Are you gonna come for me? Let me feel just how wet I can get you?”

Your back arched off the door with a loud groan and you clench impossibly tighter around his fingers as his thumb continued to stimulate you to your limit. With a cry of his name, you came on his fingers and missed when his eyes flickered from your face to the way your release dripped down his fingers.

He really wasn’t sure which sight was hotter, your face scrunched up in pleasure, or the wetness he felt coating his hand as you slumped back against the door. “Just like that, baby,” he praised as he slowed his fingers down to prolong your high. His thumb had stopped circling your clit as he knew you get sensitive pretty fast after you come, and he didn’t want to overstimulate you…just yet.

Your legs felt weak as Bradley pulled his fingers out of you and held eye contact with you as he slowly slid them into his mouth. He licked them clean while you bit your lip again to control the pornographic sounds that threatened to slip from your mouth.

He let out a throaty groan as he withdrew the digits from his mouth. “Fuck,” he nearly whispered before moving forward and licking a flat stripe up your folds, collecting your warm release on his tongue before his hands reached up and tugged your dress back down so you were covered again. He grinned up at you when he felt you shudder against him as he guided your right leg off of his shoulder and stood up.

You lean back against the door as he cages you in with his body and rests his forearm on the door above your head. “Do you feel better now?” You ask as you trail your hand down his chest, pausing just above the button of his jeans. “I can return the favor?”

Bradley’s free hand caught your wrist before it could venture any further down and shook his head. “That was only a warm up,” he informed you. He was still painfully hard, even more than before, but he was feeling relieved enough to be able to drive the ten minutes it took to arrive home. He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, smirking at the low whine that escaped your mouth when he pulled away. “Come on, baby. Let’s get out of here.”

#bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun au #rooster top gun #rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw #top gun rooster #bradley bradshaw #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader

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onehundredflamingos · 9 months ago

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19 / thumb / 254 words

@jegulus-microfic

“You’re beautiful,” James said softly into the small space between him and Regulus. They had been talking for what felt like hours, divulging more information than the person on the neighboring bar stool probably needed to know, and yet…

James wanted time to stand still. Wanted to sit and stare at this beautiful man forever; wanted to listen to the stories about his job and his youth, stories shared alongside whiskey shots and IPAs.

Regulus blushed and turned away from James, taking a quick sip of his beer, but it only gave James a better view of his flushed cheeks.

Regulus set his glass against the bar top before turning back to face James, tongue swiping out to lick the foam off his upper lip. James reached out and immediately swiped his thumb beneath his lower one, wiping away a droplet of beer that had escaped as he drank.

“Can I kiss you?” James asked, the question barely more than a whisper.

“You don’t —” Regulus stumbled over his words. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know you enjoy playing the piano and watching soccer; I know you have an older brother named Sirius; I know you desperately want a kitten, but your roommate is allergic.”

Regulus’ eyes went wide in shock, like he couldn’t believe James had actually been listening to him.

“And I know that I’d like to kiss you.”

James leaned forward, but paused, eyes trained on Regulus’ as he waited for his answer.

“Yeah, James,” Regulus breathed. “You can kiss me.”

#jegulus #jegulus microfic #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #starchaser #sun seeker #harry potter fanfiction

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 2 months ago

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tuesday again 10/22/2024

rare tuesdaypost with no fallow sections. i CANNOT find the exact image i am looking for (mouse-drawn person sitting on bar stool with ankles crossed and blushing with eyelashes) but i feel like i found a lot of things this week that charmed me immensely. rare many such cases of many interests intersecting.

listening

almost exactly a year ago i wrote about jolynn j chin's SHIFTED, a piano jazz piece where the time signatures change on every bar, which came with an explainer video that is, spiritually, a physics video.

she's done it again with OFF TIME and a full album of equally bonkers concepts. i have a brain that is fairly good at manipulating 2D things (yarn, fabric) into 3D things but i do Not have this kind of math brain. wild shit.

youtube

reading

thank you philip for overseeing the photography of this trio of DELILAH DIRK graphic novels from Tony Cliff. i saw these on the library shelf and went "holy shit i read one of these as a webcomic in high school".

very well-paced indiana jones and james bond adjacent pulp adventures, with a soupcon of steampunk conveyances for taste. delilah started life in 2007 when strong snappy female characters were far less common. this is particularly...not quite grating, but very notable in the first two books (published in 2013 and 2016 respectively). they are intended to be middle-grade (disney villain falling deaths, no tits or ass, etc), but they punch far above their intended age range. a particularly interesting reckoning with the long-suffering native guide trope. not a series overly concerned with historical accuracy, although it's certainly more grounded in real history than you might expect of a middle-grade pulp adventure graphic novel. more colonial political concerns than i remembered or expected.

the art is really killer in all three books. tony cliff really knows the effect of a good page turn spread.

he also has a very charming way of illustrating continuing action across a huge panel. all four shots are from The Pillars of Hercules (2018) bc it happened to be the last one i read and the one with by far the most ambitious art.

watching

tubi has acquired the streaming rights to most of the batman animated movies. i keep getting served ads on instagram for an upcoming animated film about batman and the yakuza, where the premise is that a portal from real-life japan has opened up over gotham and the yakuza are pouring through like a demonic horde. this seems to be a sequel to batman ninja (2018, dir. Junpei Mizusaki)

youtube

Batman, along with his allies and adversaries, finds himself transported from modern Gotham City to feudal Japan.

batman ninja includes the lines:

I’m going to rule this country and turn it into a kingdom of monkeys and rewrite the history of the world!

and

What am I going to do with you, Batman? You’ve destroyed a perfectly good giant robot castle!

i would describe this as more of a feature-length animation showcase than anything else. the haters on letterboxed didn't even give it an average of 3 but that's bc they hate fun. this is some real weeb shit. this is not a grimdark or particularly thoughful batman entry. this is an entry to clap your hands in glee at the giant gundam vs monkey army fight. they have once again done my favorite comics boy jason todd dirty but what the fuck else is new.

so much fun even on just the like tree field guide level of identifying the six or seven animation styles. plus everyone's feudal japan looks are sick as shit.

was it Good? no. was i delighted at nearly every moment? fuck yeah.

playing

EXCEPTIONALLY charming embroidery-based game jam game, Cross Stitched by Panzerr here for free on itch.io. made in godot. god bless.

(image from the developer) you've got your little baba yaga house gundam in the center constantly firing projectiles, and you have to keep these fucking birds back. you can WASD around the edges of the tapestry, and your health is in the top (i really love how it gets "ruined" dark chunks taken out of it as you lose health, like a piece of embroidery decaying) and the bottom black bar of motifs fills up as you make progress towards adding another level and another piece to your powerup level tapestry.

(following images from me) you do have to think about your placement and plan it out a bit, and you can't embroider over something you've already stitched. would not recommend surrounding your initial base damage motif with other motifs bc then you've sort of fucked yourself over. a really simple concept (a good bite size for a game jam) elevated by a very fun visual style and great music. really delighted me! i am so jaded by my time in the video game marketing mines that i forgot they can be fun actually!

making

unphotographable: too many bugs in my house! tried to replace the weatherstripping on my front door and discovering that both the front door and the storm door were installed incorrectly and should probably be replaced.

in better news, the newest pathetic little waif in the office bathroom has been freshly neutered and will be going to a nice cushy indoor home next week-ish. whenever he is fully recovered. the most polite cat i have ever had in this carrier: did not piss, shit, or throw up.

KO'd by six cc's of various goops. poor man.

#ruby #tuesday again #tuesday again no problem #flashing gif

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niragisqueenofhearts · 2 months ago

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~Lured to the music.~

Arthur Fleck (Joker) x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+‼️MINORS DNI‼️ nsfw, smut, unprotected sex, semi public sex, brief mention of violence, drinking, smoking (cigarettes)

Word count: (rechecking...)

A/N: Just a cute little dabble i thought of last night. I’ve been obsessing over Joaquin and his characters lately so i thought why not add him to the roster. I’m not the type to add music to fanfiction but two songs i listened to helped inspired this- I’ve got it bad and that ain’t good by The Oscar Peterson trio and If i tell you I love you by Melody Margot. Do with that information what you will.

More fanfics to come!

Enjoy!

————

This was it, everything Arthur has ever dreamed of was finally happening tonight.

Tonight, he was going to be on the Murray Franklin show.

He strutted down the streets in a red suit, complimented with a green dress shirt, orange vest, a face of clown makeup and a head full of green locks to top it all off. He hummed a melody to himself as he made his way down the sidewalk, taking brief moments to dance and bask in his own glory as he passed by the many windows, each with their respective people inside looking over at him. They were all staring up at him like they had never seen anyone like him before. He smiled, waved, even blew kisses as he basked in his glory.

Arthur's actions soon came to a halt as a sound caught his attention. Down this very small driveway like a path, he could hear the faint sound of a piano playing. A soothing jazz melody wisped through the air and into Arthur's ears, his curiosity peaked, and he'd decided that he needed to find out where it was coming from. Sure, he had somewhere to go, but a little detour never killed anybody, right?...

Arthur followed the music, the notes getting louder with each minute as he searched for the source, and very soon he found it. The music led him to this scenic hideaway. He looked through the windows to see the space filled with the regular white collared joes, all enjoying a drink as they spoke to each other. Arthur hated these guys, the ones who had it easy, the ones who used mommy and daddy's money to fuel their own selfish lives while people like him died in the dirt. No, Arthur would not stand it. Not anymore. Tonight was a night when the world would be set straight, to get him and others like him justice - one way or another.

Arthur pushed open the glass door that stood before him and ventured in. The smell of smoke, alcohol and sweat greeted him immediately. The music had a hold on him and was pulling him closer. The workers around him all took brief glances at him, the usual side eye, furrowed brows and judgement passed all around him, Arthur didn't care, he just wanted the music. The bar seemed like something out of an old mafia movie, it was dimly lit with lamps in the corners.

The bar sat to the left of the area, it's counter lined with the same copy and paste guy wearing the usual black trousers and white button-down shirt. Further down to the back was a stage where the band sat. The gentleman that sat on the piano looked at his instrument with such love as his fingers plucked the strings so diligently. Arthur smiled, swaying his body gently to the melody that danced around him, getting lost to its beauty.

He did a quick spin and as he stopped, there you were. Like the other men you were wearing the matching attire, except a skirt, black pumps and pantyhose. You sat on the stool with a glass of scotch in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Your eyes were closed as you swayed with the music's melody, taking the occasional sip of your drink or a drag of your cigarette. Soon you gave up on nursing the drink and just gulped it back in one swipe before placing the glass onto the small table next to you. Must've been a pretty hard day at work. Arthur wondered what you did for work. Probably some type of accounting or something.

Suddenly the piano stopped, the quiet rustling of things filled the room before a quiet "Two, three, four." count. Then the next song began to play, this one was more upbeat, with lyrics of the inadequacies of words and the depth to feelings to prove of love. You took one last drag of your cigarette before stubbing it out into the ashtray next to your glass and rising from your seat. You wanted to dance. You stumbled slightly as you walked away towards the dance floor but managed to keep the rhythm as you made your way onto the dance floor. Arthur grinned at your clumsiness as he watched you, clearly, you've had a bit more than just the one scotch he saw you nestling on.

It all seemed to change once your heels clicked onto the tile floor. The music took over, like a marionette puppet and you begin to twist, and turn and sway with the music that poured in. Arthur watched you like a hawk, even stepping away slightly to adore the full body vision before him. The passion in your body, the anger, the love in every move and gesture. It was all so real. The song seemed to come alive. Like a siren leading a sailor to the slaughter, you enticed and tantalized those around you and a death Arthur welcomed.

Slowly he made his way toward you, watching your body as he mirrored your rhythm with his, and that's when it happened. A single graze of fingers across you looked and gazed upon the clown that stood less than an arm’s length away from you. Maybe it was because you had a few to drink, maybe it was because you didn't care, but there was something about this clown that intrigued you. Something in his eyes, or maybe his outfit or maybe it's the fact that you haven't seen somebody like him before. Whatever it was, you let the magic of this person fill you, he pulled your soul from its cage, leaving you feeling free and wild.

Arthur gently took his hand in yours, in a swift motion he spun you to face him, his other arm snaked around your waist. The two of you stood there just for a moment. He was waiting, waiting for you to do something. Scream, push him away and call him a creep, but you didn't. Instead, you brought your other arm around his neck, and now began this tango of your own making. The two of you moved like dancing figures in a choreographed routine. Now you were no professional dancer, and neither was Arthur, but the two of you together danced like how the ocean flowed. Your intricate footwork like you had rehearsed, the way he pressed you against him, how you both molded perfectly together, and how you both held on for dear life to each other. There was nothing in the world but you two. And it felt so good to have someone so beautiful at your side.

At a point in the dance, he'd release your hand and let his fall to your hip. You'd let your now free hand rest upon the back of his neck, softly playing with his waved ends. The two of you were so close, you could feel his heartbeat against your skin. Your eyes never once left his. In just that moment you both were connected, spiritually, emotionally, physically. As the last seconds of the song played, he dipped you before bringing you back up to him. He leaned closer into you, your noses grazing together as you both fought the urge to just kiss right then and there.

"You're a good dancer." You finally spoke.

"I know." He responded, a smirk beginning to creep on his face.

He held you until you balanced, then finally released your hips. Your body ached for his touch but neither of you made any move to leave.

"What's your name?" you asked, as you stared into the blue depths of his eyes.

"Arthur." He answered quietly. He gave on last polite smile before turning and walking over to the door.

You couldn't just leave it there surely, so you began to follow him. You walked as carefully as you could through the crowd before stumbling on your heel and tripping into two gentlemen, who had now spilled their drinks onto each other.

"Fuck!" One cursed while the other groaned and turned to face you. You stepped back slowly, your hands on your agape mouth.

"I am so sorry." You exclaimed as you looked between the two, a hand over your forehead.

"Jesus Christ, could you have been a little more careful?"

"This stain is never going to come out!"

One by one, the men berated you for a simple accident. You didn't really care about their feelings, you just wanted to speed this up to catch the clown about to leave.

"I'll buy you another drink-"

"Oh, so you can spill it on us again? Jesus what is wrong with you?" One of the men interrupted as he grabbed napkins to clean himself and his colleague off.

"I'm sorry." You said again as you attempted to head toward the door, unfortunately, one of the men grabbed your arm.

"No sweetheart, you need to take care of this. This is a very expensive shirt that you ruined."

"Just send me the bill." You grimaced at the touch of the man as you tried to pull away from him.

"Oh honey, I think it's going to take more than that." The man spoke condescendingly.

You've seen this before all the time. Men not taking you seriously in the working world of corporate. Men who objectified and sexualized you, who thought you were some sort of toy to be used and thrown away, people who thought they were better than everyone else.

"Get off of me!" You shouted as you made another attempt to release yourself from the brute. And just when you thought things we're getting bad, a single punch hit the man that held you captive and he fell to the ground almost instantly. The other gentleman raised his fists, prepared to fight which was interrupted by the cocking of a gun and the barrel aimed in his face.

He slowly unclenched his fists and held his hands up in mercy as he lowered himself onto the seat. "Woah man."

Soon another witness caught sight of the weapon and that's when hell broke loose.

"Gun!" Yelled a voice and soon the entire crowd, including the band members and bartenders all ducked down for cover. You looked up at the armed assailant to see the same clown face you’d known from before. Arthur came back.

He took your hand in his, and with the gun still held tightly in his other hand, he dragged you out of the bar, and started running.

As Arthur pondered where you two were going to go to hide from any potential police on their way, you were more surprised with the fact that you were able to keep up with Arthur while wearing stilettos. The sound of sirens in the distance caught your attention and then you both really started to panic.

Arthur found a shortcut which landed y'all in an alley behind a vacant building that used to be a restaurant. You both ducked behind some wooden boxes and crates that sat there as a police car drove past, coming back out from the cover once the coast was clear.

You panted as you tried to regain your breath, the adrenaline was pumping though your veins and you couldn't stop shaking from both fear and excitement. You leaned against the stack of boxes behind you. "Holy shit."

You hadn't noticed the way Arthur looking you, his eyes roamed you from top to bottom, his gaze travelling from head to toe and back again in wonderment and awe. He licked his lips as he stared you down like he'd been stranded in the dessert for days, and you were a bottle of water. Boy was he thirsty...

He inched closer to you, closing the space between you too. You noticed this, finally looking up at him and your breath hitched as he stood just a breath or two away from you. He placed a hand on the boxes, holding himself up as he leaned into you. His heavy breathing caressed your lips and made you shudder ever so slightly. Your heart was racing at the mere proximity. Your blood rushed to your cheeks, and you could feel yourself growing hot under his intense stare. He took one more good look at you before finally crashing his lips against yours. At first you were startled by his sudden boldness, but after just a second, you embraced his embrace, returning his embrace.

The kiss started slowly, soft but firm. Slowly, your tongues began to duel with each other as Arthur took control and gently pushed you backwards into the boxes and crates behind you. You moaned as he nibbled your bottom lip.

You brought your hand to cup his cheek and the other to snake around his neck. He followed suit, wrapping a hand around your waist and the other making way to the back of your thighs, beginning to gather your skirt above your knees. His fingertips grazed your skin lightly, leaving trails of heat in their path. You gripped tightly onto him for dear life, trying desperately to make this as perfect as it could be. You gasp as you felt his nails dig into your soft flesh before running his palm over it, soothing the ache. In a swift motion, he lifted you onto the stack of crates. You helped him, removing the hand from his neck to pull your skirt up further. The sound of the unbuckling of his belt soon followed.

He pulled away from the kiss leaving you breathless. You watched as he loosened his pants completely, finally reaching into his underwear and pulling out his more than eager member. For a guy as skinny as Arthur, he sure was very well endowed. You reached between your thighs and pulled your panties to the side, you were ready for him, you needed him.

He placed one hand on the small of your back bringing you towards him as he guided himself to your entrance. You shivered as he slipped inside of you, feeling the tip of his sex stretching you open for him, then the rest of his length followed.

You exhaled a sharp breath as he bottomed into you, holding onto his waist. You stayed there for a moment, Arthur relished the feeling of your wet heat engulfing into him, then he pulled back and delivered a hard thrust making you gasp, then another, then another and another....

Each thrust Arthur delivered, you met with them every time, thrusting your hips towards him. He'd release the crates and wrap both arms around you, one tightly around your waist and the other around your back, his hand gripping the base of your neck as he brought you closer to him. He picked up his pace, thrusting deeper and harder and faster until the sounds of your pleasure filled the quiet night air. You gripped onto his shoulders as the crates rocked with the fervor. Arthur's quite moans and grunts of pleasure filled your ears as yours filled, his strong fingers digging into your flesh were bound to leave bruises.

It wasn't long before you felt that familiar pool of heat beginning to fill your loins, you were close and so was Arthur. He pressed himself fully within you, causing your walls to wrap tighter around him.

You both continued to move with a frenzy, both of you losing control. Both of you moaned out in unison, as you'd finally approached your climax. It felt like hours had passed and yet it wasn’t nearly enough time at the same time. You threw your head back as your orgasm ripped through you, shudders and shivers ran through your spine. Arthur held onto you tighter than ever as he grinded his hips into you, filling you with every drop of essence spilled into you.

The both of you huffed into the air as you recollected yourself from such a powerful orgasm, your chests heaved with each breath you took. Arthur pulled out of you completely, and readjusted himself, placing his cock back in his pants and zipping it up. He smiled softly at the state of you as he helped you readjust yourself, pulling your skirt back down to its respective length and helping you back onto your feet. You were disheveled, your lips painted with the red paint he wore on his face, and your hair a mess from how much sweat and exertion you put forth, and it was all because of him...

He cupped your face before bringing you back into another hard kiss, imprinting the color once more before pulling away with a gleeful smile. "Enjoy the show." Your brows furrowed slightly in confusion to his words. What did he mean? Enjoy the show? That was a weird comment if there ever was one.

It was all he said before he went on his way, pulling a cigarette out of his coat and striking a flame on the end of it.

You took one more deep breath as you can feel the emptiness around you now that he was gone. You shook the feeling as you noticed how late it was getting; you'd better hurry up before protest became more riley.

On your walk home, you caught glimpse of yourself in a window, catching the red paint that stained your face. With your sleeve, you rubbed yourself raw, even spitting onto the fabric to be sure you got every trace of it off. God forbid your roommate caught that when you got home, that'd be a very awkward conversation to have.

"Hey, I'm home." You announced yourself as you entered your apartment, your roommate Marcelle sat on the couch watching tv. She turned to look at you.

"Hey, oh... Are you okay?" She asked, her brows furrowing in concern.

"Yeah..." You answered. "Why?"

"You look really flushed, are you getting sick?"

Your eyes widened at her comment, if only she knew the events that occurred earlier.

"No, I'm fine. Had to walk past some guys fighting because of the protest hubbub, it's got me a bit shaken up." You lied to her.

She shook her head in disbelief as she took her gaze back to the television. "People are just crazy these days..."

You chuckled. "Yeah."

You made your way into the kitchen and opened the fridge, disappointed to see the lack of sustenance that sat inside.

"Don't worry about dinner, I ordered a pizza." Marcelle spoke loudly from the living room.

"I love you." You responded as you made your way toward the couch.

"I know." Marcelle smiled. "Come, watch something with me." She patted the seat next to her on the couch. You accepted taking the seat.

"Okay... What are we watching?"

"The Murray Franklin show."

#joker folie a deux #joker x reader #joker x y/n #joker x reader smut #arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x y/n #Joker

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dreamingofep · 1 year ago

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Sinned Awakening pt. 10🩸

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. [Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, spanking, oral, Smutt, blood/gore 🩸

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.7K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 10! I can't believe we've gotten this far! There's still so much we're learning about these two and it's only getting more complex by the day. A reminder, this is Vampire!Elvis so there is going to be mentions of blood/gore from here on out. If that's not your thing, sorry but it's needed for the story.

There's a lot going on this chapter that I've been wanting to include in a chapter at some point but haven't felt like its the right time. First off, when I first had the idea for this fic, I was curious when the first vampire myth came to be. It turns out it started out in Ancient Greece and a "vampire like being" was created by the gods. It fascinated me and I knew I needed to incorporate it into my story somehow.

Second, I have a soft spot for Elvis singing gospel. I know I needed to add a meaningful song to the chapter to show his vulnerability and You'll Never Walk Alone came to my head. When Elvis recorded this, it is actually him playing the piano in the recording. While this isn't technically a gospel song, it was written by Rodgers and Hammerstein for the musical Carousel but you can see how Elvis might have interpreted it as so. Take a listen if you want 🤭

I wanna say thanks to those of you for reading from the very beginning or, if you somehow stumbled across this one late night on Tumblr or Ao3 and decided to give it a shot. Your enthusiasm about this little story makes my heart sing so thank you!

If you’d like to start reading from the beginning, start here. 🩸

Thank you again! Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs.🖤

You shake your head at him, watching him give you that sly smirk that you love so much, knowing that he has you in the palm of his hand. He leaves the bedroom with the door open and you follow him to see where he’s run off to so quickly. You grab the pajama top and put it back on you, buttoning the first few and following him into the next room.

He’s standing by the small bar and opens a bottle of water. You walk to him leaning over the ledge as he hands you the glass.

“Here honey,” he says smoothly.

You take a sip, not realizing how much you need this. He comes around the bar to sit on the stool, drinking you in. He had his pajama bottoms on but left his chest exposed, giving you the best view imaginable. You look him up and down as he does to you and press your lips together, fighting the smirk forming on your face.

You step in between his legs, rubbing your hands up his chest gently, gliding around his neck, then up to his hair. He murmurs contently, but you pull at his hair harshly, making him grunt.

You get close to his ear, “Take this out of me. Now.” You growl.

“No. Not yet,” he says smugly, laughing softly.

“What do you mean not yet?” you hiss. “I’m not having you play with me like this.”

He puts his hand around your neck, softly squeezing it, and makes you look at his dangerous eyes.

“Yes, you will. Trust me, you will listen to me,” he boasts.

“No, I won’t. You forget that I can resist your… charm,” you smirk at him, knowing that’s going to piss him off. He hates that you can’t be compelled by him and shoving it in his face is the icing on the cake.

He squeezes his eyes closed in a frustrated manner and opens them back up facing you intensely.

“You’re going to be the death of me hmm? Just never going to listen and constantly test me?” He grumbles rubbing his thumb lightly over the bruise on your neck.

“Hmm… yes that sounds like a marvelous plan. Can’t let you get too comfortable,” you tease.

“Using my own words against me, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” he quips, running his fingers through your hair.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way,” you tease. “But first do something else with this,” you grunt, taking your finger and pulling the ring out of you, pushing it against his chest, your slick covering it.

His eyes light up in shock and stares at you. You know you’re pushing it, he likes to be obeyed but something in you loves to get a rise out of him. It’s all dangerous though, his mood is so drastic especially when he’s hungry so you have to watch yourself. It’s been two days since he fed and you’re unaccustomed to how he acts when he does need to eat again. Can’t be worse than the first day you two met so you think you can handle anything.

He doesn’t grab the ring right away, just looks at you like he could pin you down in one swoop and make you beg for his mercy. His eyes grow dark and his lips form a pompous look, waiting for your next dangerous move. You decide to grab his hand and slip the ring back on his ring finger.

“There you go sweetheart,” you say mockingly, walking away towards the bathroom to wipe the slick in between your thighs. In the blink of an eye, he is in front of you again, towering over you, his breathing heavy.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He seethes.

“I’m not leaving if that’s what you’re thinking. You don’t have to break the doorknob again,” you taunt.

His face drops and his eyes turn fiery. “You are unbelievable. Someone ought to put you in your place,” he rasps.

“I know honey. Put me on top of the piano again and show me how to behave,” you quip, rubbing your hand against his cock making him hiss in frustration.

He quickly picks you up and puts you over his shoulder. You gasp and try to get out of his grasp but he’s far too strong compared to you. He takes long strides to the guest room and puts you down on the bed face down. You put your arms out quickly to brace yourself but he roughly grabs your wrists, putting them behind your back. You protest and continue to try to wiggle out of his hand that is grasping onto both of your wrists, keeping you still. You rest your forehead on the bed and let out a frustrated grunt.

He pulls at your hair to turn your head to the side and leans down into the crook of your neck.

“What did you think that kind of behavior was going to get you? You just like gettin’ me all riled up, is that it?” He hisses. You know you’re gonna get it, your little game has now turned into his and he loves to win. You feel him nip at your neck causing both of you to grunt.

“Maybe a little,” you whimper.

He doesn’t like that answer. Not one bit.

He grunts and takes another nip at your neck.

“I know I can’t make you listen to me, but I’m gonna have to teach you to listen to me,” he growls. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but that’s when you feel it.

His hand moves up to scrunch your pajamas out of the way and giving you a spank on your ass. You’re in shock and the stinging left behind on you makes you gasp.

“Elvis don’t you dare!” You squeal out.

“You’re gonna listen to me from now on won’t you,” he asks, giving you another spank.

Your eyes water, not used to the feeling of anyone hitting your backside like this. He gives you another spank, letting out a breathy grunt.

“Elvis!” You squeal.

He pulls at your hair again, making your head lift from the bed.

“Are you gonna listen? You gonna be good for me?”

“Mhmm… most of the time,” you grumble, gasping for air.

His hand comes down again but this time, a little moan comes out of your mouth instead and a new wave of pleasure begins to pour over you. You shouldn’t be surprised at this point that Elvis has unlocked another spark of pleasure you didn’t know existed before him.

Now you want him to spank you, turning his little game into your pleasure.

He murmurs contently,“Mhmm thats what I thought. You liking your punishment now honey?” He growled.

“Your hands feel too good on me to be a punishment,” you gasp.

He gives you one last spank and you can’t help but moan louder.

“Oh fuck, baby,” you groan. He squeezes your ass and places a kiss in the crook of your neck. He moans too and his fingers graze your folds, wet with arousal.

“Jesus, such a naughty girl. I should put something in your mouth for saying such vulgar things.” He grumbles.

“Mhmm, I think that would be the appropriate punishment,” you tease.

He lets go of your wrists and turns you around to face him towering over you, your back laying on the bed, and your legs wrapped around his torso. He has a string grip on your thighs and has a big grin on his face when you look up at him.

“You just can’t behave,” he growls, his thumb lightly pressing on your clit making you jump, still very sensitive.

You shake your head no at him, batting your eyes at him.

“Don’t be mad at me. I’ll be good. I’m sorry,” you whimper. His thumb continues to tease and you feel yourself get wetter. You watch his almost drunk eyes look at your weeping pussy and watch how he wants you to himself all over again. He pulls down the waist band of his pajamas and takes his cock out, hard once again. He really wasn’t lying that he never gets tired…

“Show me then. Show me how sorry you are,” he commands. His voice makes you quiver and you know what he’s asking for. You adjust your body on the bed and lay on you stomach, your forearms popping you up. You lick the tip of him softly, making him sigh with satisfaction.

“Please, forgive me baby,” you whisper before you wrap your lips around his head and suck, taking more of him in your mouth gradually. His hips buck into your mouth, wanting to fill you quickly with his length. You moan out, loving the way he’s so eager.

You know what he likes and know what will get him to come unglued the fastest. Your hand reaches for his balls, massaging them lightly. He bucks his hips into you again, causing you to gag around him.

“You fucking naughty girl,” he moans, placing his knee on the bed to move easier. You lick and suck more, groaning when how he puts more of his cock down your throat, making your eyes water.

“Sucha good girl. Relax your throat and let me fuck it some more,” he growls, taking a fist full of your hair in his hand and moves in and out of you. Your hand continues to touch his balls, getting him to let out all these animalistic grunts.

You let him move, feeling how he won’t last that long with how you’re touching him and the way he’s moving inside you. You place your hand on his shaft that’s not in your mouth and jerk him off, licking and sucking his sensitive head.

He keeps groaning and cursing your name, getting so close.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum, right in that pretty mouth of yours,” he moans, moving his hips a few more times before he releases in your mouth. He fills your mouth quickly and makes you fall apart too with the sounds he’s making. You can’t help but gag around his length and moan with how he’s using you. It’s so dirty but you couldn’t care less. He was yours. All yours.

He pulls his cock out of your mouth and watches you swallow everything he gave you. You smirks at you, pulling your body up to kiss you.

His lips devour yours and has his hands back on your body, consuming your bare flesh. You moan into his mouth loving how he feels on you. He slips his tongue into your mouth and deepens the kiss further. He feels like heaven as he touches all the parts that only he knows you like to be caressed.

He briefly pauses, giving you some air.

“You’re good at apologizing,” he groans, going back to give you another kiss.

You nod your head in agreement, “oh I’m glad you accepted the apology,” you quip.

He smiles down at you, “So bad. You’re so bad. I like a good girl,” he teases.

“Well, you’re going to have to deal with a bad girl then,” you say, your voice sultry.

His hands squeeze your ass, pushing your body more into him. God, you’re a mess because of this man. He knows how to make you weak at all times and half the time he isn’t even trying. You’re addicted to his attention and his body and the way he makes you feel. It’s all never enough. You don’t know where this is going to end up but all you know is you need him at all times. Probably not the same level as him but in terms of being human, you didn’t want him to go away and leave you.

He smoothly pulls you onto him, having you lay your head on his chest. His skin melts into your warmth and makes you want to fall asleep on him. You feel so content here and you two wallow in the silence together. The longer you lay there, a chill runs through your body and his body temperature starts to make you shiver. He tries to hold you tighter but it isn’t helping. He grabs the blanket at the edge of the bed and covers your body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s fine,” you says, wrapping the blanket tighter around you.

You adjust your head on his chest and your ear presses into where his heart is and for the first time, you hear his strange heartbeat. It’s so faint, barely obtainable by your ears and his slow breathing makes you realize how inhuman he really is.

All of him is a facade that is made to please his victims. It’s so strange feeling and touching him knowing what you know now.

Thump…….silence…….

Your hand trails up his stomach to his chest, placing your hand over his heart and look up at him surprised.

“I know,” he says, looking at you like he knows what you’re about to say.

“Your heart… It’s so, quiet,” you whisper.

“Mhmm, it doesn’t work so well anymore,” he mumbles, kissing the top of your head, “Don’t worry about me.”

“Is that how it always is? So… dormant,” you say softly.

“Yes. Ever since I’ve been bit. It’s also affected by how much I umm… eat,” he says carefully.

“I didn’t know. There’s just so much I’m finding out for the first time with you. You have to understand this stuff freaks me out a bit,” you explain.

He wraps his arms around you tighter, trying his best to comfort you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of this. You should have never found out. I should have never laid a hand on you, maybe then this all would be so much easier,” He says sorrowful.

“Honey, that’s not what I mean at all. I’m so happy with you. More than I have been in a very long time but it’s just this new bomb has dropped that you’re not really who I thought you are is going to take some time to get used to. I only found out two days ago that you’re…,” you say sheepishly when he cuts you off.

“I know baby, I know. I wish I could be different for you. Be exactly who you deserve but I can’t help it.” He says defeated, slowly lifting you up off his chest and getting off the bed, feeling the mood of the room drastically shift.

You know he is this very powerful being that has abilities beyond your wildest dreams but as he looks down at you, sorrow filling his eyes, you see how fragile he really is. His stature is slouched, and his eyes look tired and gaunt. You want to comfort him, reach out and tell him everything is going to be alright but in reality, you don't know if that’s the truth.

“Baby, please come lay with me. I don’t want you to go. I didn’t mean to upset you,” you plead.

He looks at the clock on the wall and it reads midnight. “Maybe you should get some rest. You haven’t been sleeping well so I’ll leave you alone,” he says weakly.

You try to protest but he’s already out the door, softly closing it behind him.

You let out a frustrated grunt. You couldn’t sleep even if you tried. You hated seeing him hurt and wished you could make him forget all of his self-hatred.

You can only understand a fragment of how he felt about himself and how he felt when he looked in the mirror. He made this life-altering decision and now thirteen years later, does he regret it?

Does he regret it because you are now in his life?

Are you the reason he thinks differently about everything?

You don’t know but you also need to figure out what to do about this situation. There was one thing you knew for certain; you wanted him. You want him like no other person on this planet. You don’t think you wanted Daniel like this the you two were first seeing each other. These were two very different situations but they still affected you deeply.

That was another thing you had to figure out was how you were going to move out of that apartment and where you were going to live next. You didn’t want any confrontation with Daniel. There was no point in it and you made up your mind. Leaving was going to be the best option for both of you and maybe you could start the next chapter of your life freely.

You knew Anna wouldn’t mind letting you stay a little longer to figure your shit out. You were thankful for her and her kindness. Oh shit.

You took her car when you thought you were going to just talk to Elvis. Now it's been days later and you haven’t even called her.

Shit she’s gonna kill me, you think.

Your chaotic thoughts swirl in your head and you panic. You see a phone on top of the dresser and quickly scramble out of the bed and reach for the phone. You start to dial her number and glance up at the clock and it is already half past two. She was definitely fast asleep but you needed to talk to her.

The phone rings a couple of times and the sound her her groggy voice fills the receiver.

“H-hello?”

“Hey Anna, it's me,” you whisper.

“Y/n? Are you okay? I’ve been so worried about you. What’s going on?” She asks.

You pause and take a deep breath. You know Elvis is probably listening with ease to your conversation so you know you need to choose your words carefully.

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I haven’t called… things have been… hectic,” you admit.

“Y/n I know when something is wrong. What’s going on?” She asks more firmly.

“I can’t really tell you specifics… but I’m sorry I took your car. Let me come by and pick you up for work so you can have it back,” you suggest.

“Okay, we’ll talk about this later, see you at 5:30. Just let yourself in with the key. I’m glad you’re okay though, I was worried sick.”

“I know, I’m sorry again, I’ll see you soon I promise,” you say before hanging up.

You fall back onto the bed again, staring up at the ceiling, feeling crushed by guilt.

You try to take a nap but it feels too hot and too cold at the same time. An hour passes by and you’re restless. Elvis hasn’t made a sound in a few hours and you were curious what he was doing.

You put your pajama top on again and peeking out into the living room. You see piles of books scattered about on the tables and sofa. You decide to pick one up, curious about what he’s reading. You sit down on the sofa, scanning the mess of literature in front of you.

The thick, red, leather-bound book felt ancient, the pages were so thin, that you had to be extra careful touching them. You scan the pages seeing what this one is about. In the text, it explains, what a vampire is:

“The main characteristic of vampires is they drink human blood. They typically drain their victim’s blood using their sharp fangs, killing them slowly and turning them into vampires. Making the victim bite them in return to complete the process.”

A chill runs up your spine as you read these details of what these pages tell.

“Vampires are typically said to be of pale skin and range in appearance from grotesque to preternaturally beautiful…”

Yeah, that one is pretty obvious he’s supernaturally gorgeous.

You pick up the next book and thumb through the pages, reading the ancient lore of the first vampire showing up in Ancient Greece that was cursed by the Gods. This surprised you because you thought stories of the Greek Gods were just a fable, something that was made up. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to comprehend that stories are no longer myths and probably have more truth residing in them than you think.

You start to read the story of Ambrogio, a young adventurer born in Italy and one who longed to travel to Greece. When he was old enough, he set sail to Greece and traveled to the Eastern area of Delphi.

This was the home of Apollo’s temple, God of the Sun. When he was visiting, Ambrogio met an Oracle who would sit in a chamber within the temple and speak prophecies inspired by Apollo to those who came to seek the Oracle’s wisdom.

She only repeated: “The curse. The moon. The blood will run.”

It kept him up all night, worried about what the Oracle meant. He went for a walk and he saw a beautiful woman dressed in white walking to the temple. He stopped her and she told him her name was Selene and was the maiden of the temple. Her sister was the Oracle and would take care of her when she would be working. For the next few days, Ambrogio met Selene before she entered the temple and they fell madly in love.

On his last day in Greece, he asked Selene to marry him and return with him to Italy. She said yes and they agreed they would meet the next day at dawn outside the temple.

But this entire time, Apollo had been watching. He too loved Selene and grew enraged that Ambrogio would come to his temple and steal one of his maidens away. At sunset, Apollo appeared to Ambrogio and gave him a curse that from this day forward, the mere touch of Apollo’s sunlight would burn his skin.

He was terrified and had nowhere to go as the sun would burn him as soon as the sun rose. He hid in a cave that led to Hades. Hades, the God of the Underworld, listened to his cry for help and made him a deal. If Ambrogio could steal the silver bow of Artemis and bring it back, he would grant him and Selene protection in the underworld. As collateral, Ambrogio had to leave his soul behind with Hades until he returned with the bow. If he didn’t return with the bow, he would have to live in the Underworld forever, never seeing Selene again.

He took his bow and arrows and set out on his mission. He had no parchment to write to Selene what was going on, so he shot a swan, using its blood for ink and taking a single feather to write a poem to her. He did this for forty-four days, never missing a single day.

On the forty-fifth night, he had one arrow left and shot at a swan and missed. He felt hopeless and cried for help. Artemis, sister of Apollo and the Goddess of Hunting and the Moon, heard his cry. He begged her for one arrow to write Selene a note and she took pity on him. She let him borrow one silver arrow and he quickly ran to Hade’s cave to deliver the object to him. Artemis realized what was happening and cast her own curse on him; for silver to burn his skin.

Ambrogio begged for her forgiveness and explained the curse Apollo gave him and his undying love for Selene that he didn’t have any choice but to do what he had done. She pitied him and decided to give him one last chance. She offered to make him a great hunter, almost as great as she was, with the speed and strength of a god and fangs with which to drain the blood of the beasts to write his poems. In exchange for this immortality, he would have to agree to a deal. He and Selene would have to escape Apollo's temple and worship only Artemis forever. The catch was that Artemis was a virgin goddess, and all of her followers had to remain chaste and unmarried, so Ambrogio was never allowed to touch Selene again. They could never kiss, never touch, never have children. He quickly agreed and left a note to Selene at the temple to meet him at the docks and ran away before Apollo would notice he was there.

She met him at the ship and she found him hiding in a coffin, sheltering from the sunlight. They sailed to Ephesus where they would live many long and happy years together. They stayed faithful to Artemis and never touched or kissed. While he stayed the same after all those years, Selene grew old and ill and was on her deathbed. He couldn’t bear to see her die and knew he would not be with her in the afterlife since his soul still resided with Hades. He ran to the woods and found a white swan and shot it, offering it to Artemis, begging to make Selene immortal like him.

Artemis thanked Ambrogio for all their dedication to her after all these years and would make him one last deal. He could touch Selene just once - to drink her blood. Doing so would kill her mortal body, but from then on, her blood mixed with his could create eternal life for any who drank of it. If he did this, Artemis would see to it that they stayed together forever. Ambrogio was terrified and didn’t want to do it, but when he explained this to Selene, she begged him to bite her. He had no choice but to bite her and took her blood into his body as he watched her body be lifted up to the sky where she met Artemis on the moon. She beamed with brilliant light where Artemis granted her to become the Goddess of the Moonlight, where her rays of light would shine upon everyone and her beloved Ambrogio.

This story left you in shock, the story of the first vampires on this earth were made by the gods? So much information flooded your head and you needed to borrow some of these books from Elvis. In a way, you thought it was beautiful, the way he made her immortal out of his undying love for her even though he thought he was cursed for all eternity. They got to spend forever together. You wonder how they turned other people into, what would later be known as, vampires.

You easily could sit here the rest of the night sifting through all these books but you should see where Elvis ran off to. You call out for him but hear nothing in the suite. You check his bedroom and it is untouched and quiet. You decide to see if his men outside know where he ran off to. You grab the blanket from the bedroom to wrap around you since you don’t have any pants on and don’t need any wandering eyes on you.

Opening the door, a man is standing outside of it as usual.

“Hey, where’d Elvis go?” You ask.

“Downstairs, in the ballroom,” he says without turning around.

“Can you get out of the way so I can get through the doorway?” You say ticked off, pushing past him to get out of the suite.

His frame is stiff and rigid just like Elvis’ and you can feel his cold temperature brush off you.

You stare up at him in bewilderment.

“Oh my God, he turned you? Didn’t he?” You say in shock.

He takes a moment to pause and remove his sunglasses. His eyes were dark, almost black, just like how Elvis’ got.

“Yes. Do you always ask so many questions?” He grumbles.

“Fuck you. What floor is he on?” You snap.

He takes a deep breath before answering, “First floor. Make a right out of the elevator to the door that says Ballroom 1.” He says annoyed.

You push past the rest of the men that you now know are vampires and get into the elevator. How many other people has he turned? Did they have any say over the matter? Or was he so thirsty he couldn’t control himself…

You pinch yourself, stopping from creating these awful scenarios in your head.

You get off the elevator and get out, going down the hallway til you reach the ballroom doors. Quietly turning the knob, you look into the room. It was filled with chairs and musical instruments and you hear the soft playing of a piano. You step inside fully and close the door, finding Elvis with his back turned toward you, dressed in his robe, black pajama bottoms, and wearing his slippers.

When you walk through a storm

Hold your head up high

And don't be afraid of the dark…

His voice rings out flawlessly, it makes you have chills as you have never heard him sing live before. Something about his voice in person is better than any recording could ever capture. You watch his long fingers dance over the ivory keys, pressing delicately and letting the beautiful music fill the room.

At the end of a storm

There's a golden sky

And the sweet silver song of a lark

You make your way further into the room. He never fails to keep you in awe of him. Even though he saw himself as a monster, you saw him like a Greek God. Perfect in every way. From his chiseled jawline to his perfect nose, there wasn’t a flaw you saw on him. Every inch of him was perfect and you wanted to make him see that. “Cursed,” or not, you were entirely enthralled by Elvis Presley.

You stand behind him, your hands trail down along his chest making him breathe deeply and he leans back into you.

He inhales your scent and grumbles, taking another breath before singing the next line.

Walk on through the wind

Walk on through the rain

For your dreams be tossed and blown

… Walk on, walk on

With hope in your heart

And you'll never walk alone

He plays the last few notes and leaves them ringing out on the grand piano. He sits there still, not making a sound.

“That was beautiful honey. You sing it so soulfully,” you whisper, kissing his neck.

He lets out a low growl, “You should have stayed upstairs.”

“Hiding from me isn’t going to solve your problems. Talk to me,” you plead.

“I just wanted to play without disturbing you. You need your rest,” he says.

“I can’t rest when I know you’re upset. The song was beautiful. You sing with so much love in your voice,” you praise.

You see his face crack a smile when he hears this from you.

“Thanks… Gospel music makes me the happiest. It’s what I first fell in love with. Sometimes I sit here and play for hours, trying to get God to listen to me,” he says weakly.

He turns to look at you, tears filling his eyes, “Do you think God can forgive me? For what I’ve done? For who I am?” He looks so fragile, wanting love and acceptance from God. From you. He still had so many human qualities even if he didn’t see them. He was insecure just like the rest of us. Wanting love and acceptance no matter what we do in life.

But he wanted to hear acceptance from you in particular.

You had heard he was very religious, but now that he was… well, no longer human, you didn’t know how he felt about religion.

“Oh, honey… I don’t know much about religion… I frankly don’t know much about anything in this world anymore, but from what I’ve gathered, He’s a forgiving God. I think He can forgive you too.” You assure.

He adjusts his legs on the piano bench, turning his body and putting each leg on the side of the bench to look at you. He looks into your eyes expectantly, “I don’t think so baby… I’m not good. I’ll just always be this,” he says exasperated looking down to the floor.

You take his face in your hands and make him look at you.

“You’re a lot better than most men. Trust me on this. I know you’re trying your best to be better. I see it,” you press. “

He shakes his head at you, taking your hands off of him, and squeezing them lightly.

“Honey, please, I can’t have you touch me right now. I don’t trust myself,” he grunts.

Your heart aches for him, frustrated he sees himself so evil.

“Baby, please. I trust you, I know you won’t hurt me.” You assure him, putting your hands back on his face. He lets out a content sigh feeling your skin on his.

“Honey, listen to me. I- I- shouldn’t. You need to know something. Before anytime I’m around you, or make love to you, I need to drink blood. Just so I can have some sense of control around you. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says weakly.

This made a lot of sense actually, how he would sneak off into his bathroom, his eyes becoming brighter and less clouded before he’d have you.

“You’re okay. I trust you. I need to be with you,” you beg.

You place a kiss on his forehead, taking in his scent. He continues to look down, looking more defeated than you’ve ever seen him. You hate seeing him like this. He’s not listening to you and you need to make him. A bold rush comes over you and your hands trail down his chest to his torso where his robe is tied. You pull at the bow and watch his robe come apart, exposing his chest with the long gold chains hanging down on it.

His blue eyes meet yours and he looks at you cautiously.

“Honey, please,” he sighs.

You won’t listen to any of his protests, you’re so focused on him, determined to get him to forget all of his self-doubts and have him let you love him. You bring his hands to your hips, making him squeeze you gently.

“Touch me,” you whimper. He sighs frustratedly, looking up at your pleading eyes.

You drop the blanket and slowly unbutton your pajamas, flinging it to the side, watching his eyes get distracted by your breasts in his face. You straddle his hips and sit down, kissing his cheek, and wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands travel down to your ass and push you into his frame firmly. He grunts getting to feel your body like this and the response you give back to him.

You can feel his cock growing harder the more you tease and kiss his face. You nip at his neck, just as he does to you and he growls. “Goddamn it. You’re killing me,” he grunts.

You keep teasing him, softly rocking your hips into him, loving it as much as he does.

You pull at his hair to get him to meet your eager lips and kiss him passionately. He moans into your mouth and puts his hands in your hair. You pull away to get some air and his attentive mouth is licking and sucking on your breasts. Your eyes shut and your jaw slacks open as he sucks on your nipple, sending shock waves of pleasure through you. Your hips continue to grind on him and feel his length rubbing your core. This friction felt so good on you and you let out the moans you don’t want to hold back. This extreme amount of need flows through you and you don’t want to wait any longer. You can feel the arousal seep out of you and need him to feel what he’s doing to you.

“Let me fuck you,” you whisper in his ear, reaching underneath his robe and scratching down his back. He cusses under his breath and grumbles.

“Baby, I can’t… I can’t hurt you,” he professes.

“You’re not. I know you won’t. I want you to make me feel good,” you say with a roll of your hips. You reach for his hand and guide him to your wet folds. He groans when his fingers make that discovery and instinctively rubs his fingers on your clit, then teasing your entrance lightly.

“I need you,” you plead.

He grunts heavily and sucks on your neck moaning your name, making your core throb. The way he moans your name should be illegal with how unglued you become and makes you feel like you’re on fire. “Please,” you continue to beg, “you know how long it’s been since you’ve fucked me?” You say in a moaning breath.

He groans, pushing your upper body away from his at an angle with his hand on your lower back, pressing his face into your breasts and nipping and sucking on them. This makes you moan and squirm too, loving the response you can get out of him.

“Yes, I do,” he pants,“ Five days. Five days since I’ve been able to stuff that tight little pussy and make you scream my name,” he grunts, making your core grind into him. You groan and feel your heartbeat start to race in your chest, his words making your core throb immensely.

You stand up, hooking your fingers into his pajama bottoms, and slide them off. His cock springs free and you straddle him once more, taking him in your hand, rubbing him firmly.

“Do you want to do that, honey?” You whimper, weak already from this notion.

“Please, fuck me, baby,” he grunts, lifting you up and lining himself up to your entrance.

You love how needy you’ve made him and want to make him a puddle just as he makes you.

You sink down on his length, taking all of him quickly and you groan when you feel him stretching you, filling you so completely.

“Holy shit. Oh, fuck baby,” you pant, your fingernails embedding into his shoulders. You move faster than you normally would, wanting to fuck him like you have never before.

His hands hold onto your hips tight, bringing you down on him hard and fast.

Both of your grunts fill the room and he feels too good, making you come apart faster than usual. You squeeze and claw at his biceps and moan out his name. He holds your hips still as you adjust to him. Rocking your hips back and forth, you feel how insanely good he’s filling you never wanting this to end.

He pushes his hips deep inside you, making you cry out in shock.

“Oh fuck yes baby, just like that,” he groans.

He places his hand on your lower stomach and pushes there. He’s added this new pressure inside you and you look at him in shock, having never felt like this. Your hips grind into the base of his cock, making you want to come.

“Oh God honey, y-you’re so deep inside me you’re killing me,” you gasp.

“Mhmm, keep moving,” he growls.

Your eyes roll back and you squeeze your eyes shut, letting all your instincts take over and fuck this perfect man underneath you. You can feel your walls begin to flutter the more you bounce on him, cussing his name like he’s your savior. You feel his hand wrap around your neck, making you pop your eyes back open.

“Look at me. Look at me when you’re fucking me,” he groans through his teeth, possessiveness rolling off of him like a tidal wave. You lock onto his eyes as his hips buck into you, taking you harder and faster. You can’t take much more of this, you feel the coil in your belly about to snap and the pressure added by his hand on your stomach makes you feel like you’re going to combust. You scream out his name, having to shut your eyes, getting too overwhelmed with each thrust.

His hands slide to your breasts, squeezing them firmly, his intensity blazing off of him.

The sounds you two are making shouldn’t be allowed and being quiet isn’t an option for you.

His hand grabs your jaw, making your eyes open again.

“I said, look at me. I want to watch you come apart,” he groans, putting his hands back on your hips, helping you thrust on his length.

He keeps you locked onto him, biting his lip as he watches your face marvel into pleasure. You can’t hold on for much longer, you can feel your body begin to fall apart with every loud heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“I’m- oh fuck baby,” you beg him, your eyes doing all the talking.

He growls in your ear and pants heavily, “cum for me, now,” he demands, possessiveness overflowing from him.

You hold onto him for dear life as your whole body tenses and the heat of the orgasm washes over you over and over again. You see stars behind your eyelids and gasp for air. You moan out his name as your walls squeeze his cock deep inside you. Your nails leave red marks down his back and he only fucks you harder. He lets out a deep, primal growl as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“Mhmm yes, you’re all mine baby, all mine,” he moans, loving the feeling of you squeezing him.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck, groaning loudly and heaving for air. You continue to ride out your orgasm and your vision becomes clear again. The grip his hands have on you is so firm, you’re afraid he’s going to leave huge bruises behind. You heard him inhale deeply into your neck and moan your name. He keeps you moving on his length even though you feel spent.

He suddenly places a hand on the back of your head and makes an animalistic groan. You feel his teeth on your neck and nips at your neck like always. Your heart races out of your chest as this all feels so overwhelming. You gasp with his mouth on your neck and push into him more, more moans escaping you. Then, it feels different. He was nipping harder than usual and it started to sting.

You start to panic and the sounds emitted in his throat begin to become louder.

A sharp pain spreads across your neck and you push his head away from your neck and cover your neck as a reflex from the pain.

“Ouch!” you yelp.

Your eyes widen in shock as you see a small amount of blood dribbled down on his bottom lip. You remove your hand from your neck and look down at your to see the blood on your fingertips. You can’t move, you’re too scared from how he’s looking at you and by the way he has this far dazed look in his eyes. He licks his bottom lip and tastes your blood, making this eyes roll back.

He then quickly lifts you off of him and he stands up, towering over your scared body. You watch how he heaves for air and how his fangs grow and sharpen.

“Oh God,” you gasp.

Terror washes over you as you try to back away from Elvis, needing to give him space. You reach for the blanket on the floor and wrap yourself in it again. You keep pressure on your neck to stop it from bleeding but your racing heartbeat only makes it worse. He lets out these frustrated grunts, squeezing his eyes shut like he’s in pain.

He opens them again to look at you and they’re blood red, black veins spreading from under his eyes. You can’t speak, you’re too in shock from all that has happened. Elvis groans in pain, panting heavily and backing away from you.

“Leave. NOW!” He bellows making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Nerves fill your body and you feel like you could pass out any second. You’ve never needed to get out of a room quicker than now with a starving vampire staring you down. You think this might be even worse than the first day with him. His eyes look so dangerous, so cunning, he has lost complete control of himself and won’t calm down til he gets his fill.

You start to stumble backward but your feet aren’t catching up with your brain. You can’t get out of here any faster. He presses his hands to his ears, groaning in agony.

“Fuck, get away from me! I can’t control myself. RUN!,” he yowls. He quickly turns away from you and you watch in horror how his fists fly up in the air, then come back down on the piano, splitting it in two.

The tumultuous sound it creates makes your skin crawl and your ears hurt. You turn to run to the door and all you hear is his painful, agonizing groans as he continues to bash at the piano.

You slam the door closed and make a run to the stairwell. You don’t care if anyone sees you running through the hotel in just a blanket, you need to get out of there fast.

You grab the keys to the car you left in the locker room and make a sprint for it to Anna’a apartment. Your heart hasn’t slowed down one bit from leaving the hotel. You drive recklessly on the side streets and hope to God you don’t get pulled over. You check your rearview mirror every five seconds, praying no one is following you. Elvis in particular.

You finally make it to the apartment, quickly park the car, and run upstairs. You can’t catch your breath and feel the entire room spin as you close the door behind you and quickly lock it. Your neck throbs at the bite mark and you place your hand back on it, checking to see if you’re still bleeding. Your blood paints your fingers and you whine in pain. Your flesh was already so sensitive there from the bruise that resided on it, but now the open wound stung and you needed to stop the bleeding.

The hall light comes on and you see Anna turn the corner, sleepy-eyed and squinting to try to adjust her eyes to the light.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” She says panicked, watching you stand there bloody wrapped in a blanket.

You gasp for air and feel the room closing in, “I- I- please help-,” you whimper before your knees give out and your world turns black in an instant.

Tagging:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog @myradiaz @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18lkpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jaqueline19997

@returntopresley @iloveelvis @rjmartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86 @misspresley @cattcb @annapresley8 @arrolyn1114 @raginginkedslut

#elvis presley #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presely smut #elvis smut #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis x oc #vampire elvis #sinned awakening #samfangirls #70s elvis #au fic #Spotify

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icannotbetrustedalone · 7 months ago

Text

Happy birthday over a drink

Billy Russo x Fem!Reader

Hello, here's a little something for @becauseicantthinkwritings, a very happy birthday to you ! I still kept it tamed (i think), I hope you'll like ! (also posting this way later than anticipated, I had a terrible day, hope yours was better) Obviously reader is mostly based on you, I still kept it pretty vague though

For context, this based on The Red String Club, a video game, set in a cyberpunk world with a barman able to enhance specific emotions through his drinks

Warning ; 18+ , alcohol, allusion to sex, could be interpreted as CNC or non-consensual by some but reader defenitly has agency over herself, she's just into it

No double check we die as men

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It was pouring and you wanted to cry. You had missed the bus and now you were stuck on foot. The feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin made you want to tear your whole being. All of this was just the cherry on top of the shitty cake that was your week, all you wanted was to be left alone, your boss being enough of an annoyance on its own. Your plan was just to buy yourself a treat, a little gift perhaps, watch your show under a warm blanket and try out that new toy, but it seems fate chose otherwise. When the rain got stronger you ran to get to a dryer place, free from the drop of water hammering your cheeks, which led you in front of a shop with an awning. Breathing deeply to catch your breath, in hope of stopping the feeling of burn in your throat from the sudden sprint and savoring not hearing the rain directly in your ears. You blinked a couple of times, getting out the water bordering your prosthetic eyes and turn to look at the front shop. It was nothing out of the ordinary, selling glasses and cups, some teapot and carafes, what caught your eyes however was the multitude of ads on the front glass, all directing to local shops, tattoos, cakes, knitting, arts and crafts... One caught your eye in particular: The Blackbird Club, a bar, with a promise of delicious cocktails. Perfect. If you couldn’t follow your initial plan at least you could get wasted, it wasn’t too far either. As you took a photo to be sure to not forget, the world seems to approve, with the rain slowing down.

You walked for a couple of minutes, having to go through small paths, you think you might be lost and panic but as you are losing hope of a sweet drink you see it: a building you would qualify as... vintage? It was almost comical, so small compared to the modern building surrounding it that from here, and with the cloudy rain, seem to touch the skin. Speaking of, the rain could not touch you here, The Blackbird was put far from the world, hidden away, so low, yet, the neon of the big sign provided you a form of peace, you couldn’t even hear the sounds of the huffs and puffs and hustles of the big town, a protective bubble.

You walked up to the front door, but frown when it doesn’t open on its own. You look at the photo on your phone, it says it should be open, so you grab the door handle and push, it was indeed not close. Vintage. Right. It made you feel dumb because not all doors were automatic as a matteroffactyourowndoorsathomewere- you sigh, you were just trying to justify yourself now.

Entering the bar the first thing you notice is the emptiness, and that made you frown, was it REALLY close after all? Then why was the door open? You decided to close it behind you anyway and took a couple of cautious steps further inside. A piano was against the wall by the entrance, many tables and chairs were around the room, a big room at that, the actual bar was in the middle, with stools around it. You scanned the place, more tech than the naked eye could see, but way less than any place you go to nowadays, it was refreshing.

“Hum.. Hello?”, you weren’t sure you were supposed to be here, debating whether you should go back home or not, a sound made you jump and a moment later a man came from a door at the back of the room, damn, he was hot. Dark hair, dark eyes, athletic built, wearing a white shirt with rolled up sleeves, making you feel like a Victorian man seeing ankles for the first time, strong forearms too. He gave you the most charming smile you have ever seen before going to the bar, he was limping you noticed. “Good evening miss, how may I help you?”

You took a small breath in, more nervous than you thought and decided to take a stool, looking down at your phone, “Oh, hum, I saw an ad for your bar and I thought I should try it out.” You gave him a small teasing smile, leaning slightly, “Are your cocktails as good as you say they are?” He does not flatter, leaning as well to get closer, “I like to think they’re even better”. You take your lip between your lips and back away, looking at the board showcasing the many choices to conceal the effect he had on you, you realize wouldn’t mind having him as a distraction, at all. He does see it of course, and take a glass to clean to not push you too much, “Tell me, what’s the occasion?”

“It’s my birthday”, you smiled at him. “I see, and what’s the plan for tonight?” Your shoulders drop “Get wasted hopefully, black out until tomorrow morning, rest for the weekend, and go back to work on monday” you let out a heavy sigh, looking up, doing your best saving you from the embarrassment of crying in front of a stranger, feeling the stress of the week wanting to slip away through the tears, shit, you hated this, “I had the most terrible week and my boss suck, I fucked my thumb and now I have to get it fixed up, that dumb prosthetic hurts of course” you mumble the rest under your breath. You straighten your back looking back down at him. “So I hope your concoction are up for the challenge”

He gave you a sympathic look, “Ow love, I’m sorry to hear this, what if we started by taking a look at that thumb? I might be able to help”. You gave him a long look, scanning him, you couldn’t see any upgrades on him, “It’s kind of you but are you sure ?”

He laughs lowly, “Believe me, I have many talents”, he winked at you with a knowing smile. Your only responses to that are to shake your head, unbelievable, and to show him your hand. He carefully takes it in his own, a focus look on his face, touching and feeling around. While he is busy on your hand, you take the time to observe him more thoroughly, you notice a tiny scar on his chin, small eye bags, you wonder if he gets enough sleep. Your mind doesn’t have the time to go far, your brought back by a sharp pain in your hand, making you hiss.

“Sorry, love” passing his hands on your wrist, trying to south the pain, “I think I know what is wrong now, you’re okay with me fixing it?” at your nod he looks in a drawer and gets some tools, you observe him work, grimacing at the little pain here and there, you have to admit you were not expecting a barman to be able to so easily fix a prosthetic, there is no hesitation, going with a tool after another, like a dance, skillful hands. You laugh slightly when he put a splint on you. “Isn’t it going to far?”

“No, no moving that thumb of yours until you need to go back to work, gotta let it rest, understood miss?”, he was not letting your hand go, caressing it with his thumb, looking into your eyes. They are so dark, you could see yourself in them, “Yes sir” you responded with a low voice. You did catch his eyes going over your lips before straightening his back, you felt a bit smug about it. “What about a couple of drinks on the house? As a happy birthday and as a reward for behaving so well?” Your breath caught in your throat, you liked his voice and wanted to hear him say some sweet things in your ears, you felt a bit pathetic, getting wet after only ten minutes in the presence of that man, you blame it on not being fucked properly for the last couple of months. “That would be very kind of you, though I’m not sure it’s a good business model, and you already saved me with my-” he puts his hand up to stop your rambling “Anything for a beautiful lady, now, what would you want?” You look at the board once more and actually pay attention this time, you see many names you recognize and many you don’t, “What would you recommend?”

At your words you felt the air changing, as if you had pronounced the most important words you had ever spoken, “I have a special drink, giving quite the experience, going at the deepest of your being and pulling out your true emotions” You frowned “It’s not drug is it?” He burst out laughing “NO! No, of course not, only the finest alcohol here love” Your shoulders relax “Alright then” You might second guess yourself if such a pretty smile was not asking.

------------

Time stops, Billy takes a deep breath, feeling the power, he has been doing it for so many years now, and he had got use to the feeling, but he never loved it any less. Falling upon this bar might have been Billy’s greatest blessing, he might not have been able to follow his initial dream but now he was able to access so many things, turning into an information broker, he knew all the dirty little and big secrets of the upper world, the aristocrats eating in his hands, without even needing to take a step out, all coming to him on his own, the bar pulling strings to get him what he wanted, and sometimes what he needed.

He looked at you, now that you couldn’t shy away from his eyes. Such a beauty, he wondered what the club had in mind bringing you here, he sure was not the one behind it, he still had an idea, smirking to himself.

Focusing, he looked inside of you, not having an upgrade did not mean he did not have any enhancement. Visualizing, the first couple feeling and emotions on his way pains him for you; big, lot of tiredness, from the stress, of work and life; slightly smaller, frustration and anger, he huffs when he feels you wanting to punch your boss; and very present, sadness too. He wants to reach out to you, reassure you, that everything would be alright, he could recognize a bit of him in you; big too, pain that tumb of yours must have been no joke. He shivers to the last time he point out pain in someone, their face as they beg for mercy, he shooks his head and refocuse. He is reassured seeing joy, not as imposing but resilient, what a brave girl you were.

He looks further, and his jaw dropped. During his time here, Billy have met many people, almost all the people he had dug into had lust in a way or another, being a good-looking man helped him quite a lot, it was fascinating to see all the information someone was willing to give for a chance to sleep with him when he made them a horny mess. But YOU. He had never met someone with a lust so prominent as yours, he wondered how you could conceal of this, he had noticed your interest in him, but you must be absolutely soaked. He smiles; this was going to be fun.

Time goes back to its natural flow, now that Billy knows where to go. You did not notice anything, looking as cute as ever.

----------

Billy goes on to grab his ingredients “Tell me, love, what do you do for a living” A bright smile on your face, it warms his heart, “Oh well, I work at the hospital, I’m the one in charge of fixing the machines, cleaning them up, all of that” He hums, “An important job I see, is it what those eyes are for? And the hand?” You nod, “Exactly, thank you SO much again for my thumb, you really helped me, I would have gotten into trouble”. After a second you answered his puzzled face, “It’s just not the first time they have to fix me up, I can’t afford any upgrade, so I’m stuck with this one, and I don’t really always give it the care it needs so..” He shakes his head, making little disapproving sounds, handing you the finish drink, “I hope you’ll take better care; it’d be a shame to have a missing limb, huh?”

You look at the drink in your hand, dark red, swirly, drinking a mouthful. You hum, feeling the liquid traveling down your throat. “I guess I’ll just have to come back here for you to fix me again, huh?” He snickers, “Any day, love”

You’re feeling warm, like a fire traveling through you, dividing itself to explore and not leave a single spec of you unexplored, “Can I ask you a question?” “Is it about my leg?” You retract, realizing how much your initial question was inappropriate, what was wrong with you, no you cannot ask a stranger if he can bend you over the counter and pound into- you shook your head, “Y-Yeah, but you d-” “I got hurt on my third season, my body couldn’t take any modifications so.. I was forced to stopped, luckily I found this place. I took care of it, and it took care of me” You smiled, “I’m happy you found your way” after an instant you realized, not from imagining yourself screaming his name from the deepest of your core, nono, “I don’t even know your name“ “How rude of me, I am Billy Russo, pleasure to meet you love” You introduce yourself, and made small conversation, seeping on your drink along the way.

--------

Billy was impressed on your ability to stay put together, he was expecting you to either be begging on your knees for him or rush home as fast as you could to take care of it yourself. He saw your iris change shapes and colors, looking now like tiny pink-redish hearts, how cute. You were quite entertaining, and of good conversation too, he wouldn’t mind for you to come back, regardless on how the night will end.

You did slowly fell yourself go into madness however and was trying very hard not to grind against the stool, you fell on just crossing and un-crossing your legs in hope of satiating yourself. After you hundredth time doing so Billy decided to at intervene “A problem love?”. He looked ravishing, and you don’t think you could.. Well think. “Please”. He laughs lowly, making you let out a pitiful sound, “If you want something you’ll have to ask, love”. That does not help your needy brain, so you took his one of his hands and guide it to your lips, taking two fingers in, sucking on them slowly. He follows your guidance and move his finger further down your mouth, doing little movements that make you groan. “Would you look at that, do I have a good girl at hand?”. You nod hastily, you wanted him to take you in any way, but he just stood there, he wanted you to ask properly, and he was a patient man, not showing any indication of giving you anything. Getting frustrated you put his fingers away, maybe a bit harshly, “Please just fuck me, I need it so bad”. He let out a devilish chuckle, “There you go, love”

This was going to be a fun night.

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I wanted to write more and then was like mmmh maybe it's inappropriate to write a fanfic on a real person getting fucked, so I stopped there

Hope it was to your liking !

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo x female reader #my writings #billy russo x you #happy birthday over a drink

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madhatterbri · 1 year ago

Text

Take a Letter | Hangman A.P.

Summary: In a moment of vulnerability, you penned a heartfelt letter to Adam, confessing lingering feelings and doubts about your marriage. Days later, Adam discovers the letter and returns to you.

Author's Note: Western AU starring Hangman. Mentions of Nick and Matt Jackson and Ric Flair.

Please remember none of the western stories are linked together. ❤️❤️

My Dearest Adam,

As the sun sets and night takes over the town you once called home, my heart wrestles over the notion of getting married to such an awful man. This union weighs heavy on my thoughts, and I wonder if I have made the right choice in allowing him to accept my hand in marriage.

In the rare quiet moments I have while running the saloon, I reminisce about all the dreams we shared under the full moon and stars. Oh, how I wish they would become a reality. Perhaps they will in another life.

I yearn for the days we spent traveling under the merciless rays of the sun, and our love ran free like the wild horses.

May our paths cross once again, my love.

Yours, Now and Always,

Y/N

Adam stood motionless as his eyes swam through the letter once more. She still loved him despite everything that happened between them. The soft sobs of her servant sounded in his hideout house. He gripped the paper roughly and looked at her. His stern eyes glared at her. She flinched.

"Why are you just giving this to me now, Dollie?" He demanded. The date on the corner of the letter was a week before her wedding. He wondered why he was given this letter only two days before her wedding. What if I'm too late, he thought to himself.

"I wanted what was best for her. I've known her since she was a baby. You can't be mad at me for acting in what I thought was her best interests. After her father passed that saloon has been her everything," the woman sobbed louder. She blew her nose into her handkerchief. Adam rolled his eyes at the woman's dramatics.

"Where is she?" He asked. In order to make up for lost time, he needed to get to her sooner rather than later.

"She still works at her dear father's old saloon, m-Mister Hangman," she answered between breathy sobs. Hangman slid the paper in his pocket and stomped towards his horse. The woman quickly followed after him, sliding into her carriage. She silently prayed that she wasn't too late.

👢

"To the best little watering trough in the town," a drunken man yelled. His glass, full of alcohol rose high in the air. He swayed in his chair as he fished for something in his pocket. Crumpled up pills trapped in his hand. He slammed a fistful of bills on the bar top. "Another round on me!"

The saloon erupted in cheers. Spirits were lively at the Sundown Saloon. The saloon served customers from different occupations such as lawmen, cowboys, and even outlaws. With the owner of the saloon getting married, more customers turned out than ever before.

You stared from the second floor with a mix of emotions. Tonight was the last night your father's dream would stay alive. Tomorrow, Sundown Saloon would be no more. Just a bittersweet memory of your father's second pride and joy.

Heavy footsteps coming up the stairs distract you from your thoughts. A drunk man teetered up the stairs. His alcohol spills all over the floor. A madam smiled and winked at you. The man was too drunk to know what he was getting into. The woman was known to rob the men as they slept.

"Congratulations, missus," the man spoke. His eyes half closed. He raised one of his hands to show you his missing ring finger. He slurred his words. "Don't cheat. Learned the hard way,"

"Thank you for your advice, Mr. Flair," you smiled.

"Come on, darling. There is fun to be had," the madam told the old man. She winked at you before sauntering away with him.

The madam and drunk man left you to yourself. The man on the piano played a lively tune. Men and women alike were jumping to their feet to dance. Those too drunk to stand on their own, resigned to just sitting on a stool and singing loudly. You chuckled to yourself and walked to your room to get ready for your nuptials tomorrow.

You sat in silence as you stared at your wedding dress. Any woman would be ecstatic that they were getting married tomorrow, but not you. Your heart was out there somewhere in the sands of Texas.

Your fingers ran through your hair as you decided to get ready for bed. A good night's sleep will wash away all the doubt. Your door suddenly opened and revealing Dollie at the doorway.

"Y/N, please don't be cross with me," Dollie breathed heavily as if she had just run a mile to get to you.

"Cross with you? Where have you been?" You questioned her whereabouts. She was like a mother to you ever since your mom passed when you were a baby. Now she came to you smelling something awful and dirty.

The servant looked down ashamed and opened the door. Before you stood the one and only Hangman.

👢

Adam stopped at the doorway and stared at you. His light eyes took all of you in. He thought he would never see you again after he left you. He stepped inside and lowered his black bandana.

"I... I should go," Dollie excused herself. She closed the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone in your bedroom.

"What are you doing here?"

"I got your letter," he answered and grabbed the letter from his pocket. Two fingers held the folded letter before you. Your mouth dropped in shock.

"That paper is nothing but a foolish child's dreams. Give it to me so I may burn it," you ordered and reached out to take it from him. He placed the letter back in his pocket. You stared at him in confusion.

"Don't marry him," he whispered, yet you could hear him clearly.

"What?" You asked in shock. Your eyes furrowed in confusion. The last time you saw Hangman, he was running away from you at the mere thought of a life together.

"You heard me,"

"Why?" You asked.

"You know why,"

"So I can go off with you, and then you get scared and leave in the middle of the night again?"

He flinched at your words. That night had to be the biggest mistake of his life. After years of the two of you playing cat and mouse, he finally opened up to you. He was in love with you. Thoughts of you being a weakness to him shrouded his judgment. While you slept next to him, he took off.

"No more running. Matt and Nick, they have families, and that's what I want one day with you if you will have me,"

You opened your mouth about to let your hurt ruin everything you wanted with him. You took a deep breath. As much as he hurt you that night, you were still in love with him. "I'm to be married tomorrow,"

He looked down and sighed. He figured he would be too late, but he wanted one last shot to tell you how he felt. "I'll leave you to get married. He's a very lucky man,"

This was it. The last time you would ever see the Hangman, your Hangman. Your heart pounded so loud that you wondered if he could hear it. You had to push your emotions aside if you wanted to be with him again.

You opened the door to your bedroom. Dollie almost fell down yet caught herself. She was known to eavesdrop on conversations. Especially your conversations when it came to the Hangman.

"Dollie, excellent timing as always. Please prepare my effects and my horse. I do not believe my wedding will be taking place tomorrow,"

Dollie smiled triumphantly and bowed her head. "As you wish, my dear,"

#fanfiction #aew fanfiction #love #hangman adam page x y/n #hangman adam page x reader #hangman adam page x you #western au

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mpregcatboyshin · 3 months ago

Text

jazzy keishima old man yaoi.

gonna upload this to ao3 when im done with it. here's the rough draft

The old leather stool creaks as he sits on it, and he scoots it forward closer to the counter top. He picks up his glass and swirls it a bit, the big ice ball rolling around as he did. Just as he goes to take a sip, he hears the swing of the back door. Before he can turn around, a voice calls out to him.

“Hey there, Kaz,” and he instantly recognizes that deep tenor from anywhere. “Getting yourself ready before the show?”

He turns to greet the man, smiling at the site of his horribly bleached hair. He still remembers the howl he let out upon first seeing it.

“Keiji, you know I don’t drink anymore.” He chuckles to himself, holding out the cup to his friend. “This is just a Shirly Temple.”

The blonde man walks past his companion, heading towards the small raised stage opposite to the bar. There’s a few chairs and microphones set up already, with a music stand for each. To the right of the whole set up is a piano, too big to lift onto the stage. The drum set is already crammed into the back, with a bass guitar set up right next to it. Kazumi can see that there’s a trumpet case sitting near the wall as well, most likely Keiji’s. He was right in his prediction, as the man was already opening it up and pulling out the instrument.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit early to begin warming up? It’s two hours till the event begins,” Kazumi asked, turning around on the stool to face his friend. Keiji had already pulled out the mouthpiece and began buzzing, warming up the piece before attaching it to the trumpet. Kazumi always thought the buzzing was a funny way to warm up, though as he wasn’t a brass player he couldn’t make fun of it. He respected Keiji as a player, and knew whatever he did must’ve been the way to do it, as that man had one hell of a sound.

Keiji pulled the piece out of his mouth and attached it to his trumpet, holding it in his large hands. He played with the valves as he looked back up to Kazumi.

“You know this is how I am. Now are ya gonna sit there and drink or are ya gonna come up and join me?”

“Only if you play my favorite song,” Octavio replied, chuckling at the scoff Keith gave him. The blonde rolled his shoulders, kicking his feet against the old wooden stage.

“…Alright then.” Keith replied, much to Octavio’s surprise. Though, what Keith said next made him frown. “Only if you agree to sing it.”

Kazumi placed his drink on the counter, leaning forward in his chair and crossing his arms. “You don’t want to hear me sing, you know I’m a terrible singer,” he huffed.

Keiji sat down in one of the chairs, rolling his eyes at Kazumi’s statement. “Kaz, you and I both know that’s bull. The guys always talk about how great of a singer you are, and I ain’t been here long enough to hear you. It’s just you and me here, everyone else won’t get here ‘til a quarter to four. Come on, let’s have our own little concert.”

Keiji flashed him a smile, his tired eyes only accentuating his charm. If it weren’t for the bad hair dye, Kazumi could almost call him handsome in that moment. Almost. Really, it was just the bad hair that prevented that.

He let out a long sigh, looking up to Keiji’s pleading eyes, then looking back down to the floor, only to meet those puppy eyes again. He shook his head, then got up out of his seat and walked towards the piano, Keiji already warming up with a quick scale. Kazumi sat on the old bench in front of the piano, lifting the cover and letting his thin fingers hover over the keys. He looked back over to Keiji, who had been staring at him and waiting for him to start.

“Alright then, I’ll start us off and you come in,” he said softly, then pressed his fingers to the keys. He let them dance across the expanse of the piano, playing the soft accompaniment. He heard Keiji suck in a breath, then began the loud brass sound he loved so much. It was a slow, soft song, the trumpet playing a nice high note before swinging and stumbling down. Just as Keiji finished playing a mock of the melody, Kazumi knew it was his time to sing. He took in a quiet breath, just as his fingers played the next few notes, then began his verse.

“Hold me close, and hold me fast, oh the magic spell you cast, this is mon vie en rose.”

Keiji looked over to Kazumi, noting the man had hunched over the piano, practically singing into it. He had his hair tied back into a low ponytail, though curls of it still escaped and framed his face. His glasses had fallen down the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed in concentration as his fingers glided effortlessly over the piano. Keiji had always been mesmerized by how easily Kaz played the piano, always at home with the instrument no matter who’s piano it was.

Just as Kazumi had finished the last words of his song, Keiji raised his trumpet back up to play the end together. They both held out the fermata, hoping to enjoy the moment just a tad longer.

#yttd #keiji shinogi #kazumi mishima #your turn to die #keishima #kimi ga shine #fanfiction #fanfic #shin meows

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call-sign-shark · 2 years ago

Note

Yo Shark, there's almost no Goosexreader fic :( can you write a one shot in which the reader is Goose's love interest please?

Hey there honey, here is some love from Goose 💚 Don't worry, in this house Goose never died. :)

Pairing: Nick Bradshaw x Reader, Goose x Pilot!reader

Wordcount: 1k

Tags: none, this is fluff

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

A drop of sweat, similar to a shiny pearl, ran down your neck. The temperature of summer 86' was so high that some strands of your short blonde hair were sticking to the moist skin of your forehead and temples. When the bartender placed the fresh glass of beer you just ordered in front of you, you hastened to drink a first gulp in a desperate attempt to cool your body down. The sensation of freshness and of bubbles, fizzling on your tongue, took you to heaven. After several swigs, you gently pulled your lips away from the edge of the glass and tilted your head ear-to-shoulder on each side to relieve the tension in your neck.

"Finally." You whispered to yourself, leaving all the stress and noise of this hard day of training behind you. As much as you loved your job, the blast of the jet's engine and the smell of kerosene almost made you faint when they were mixed with such extreme weather. Today, even Hollywood had to be brought to the nursery. Not that you cared, but you had to admit that the man was usually quite tough.

Good Gracious Lord, Great Balls of Fire!

The joyful melody burst in the pub as the man playing hit the keys with his fingertips in expert gestures. It was as if he had done that all of his life. Soon, his voice sang along the music and filled the room with electrifying energy. You raised your head to sweep the room with your piercing eyes, curious until your gaze falls on the man sitting in front of the piano. You immediately recognized him - as if one could ignore who he was. Staring at his tall frame moving with the song he was playing, you shook your head. Goose always knew how to put on a show. He just loved the attention, but what he loved the most was the good mood he could bring to the people around him. Even if you were exhausted from your day, you could not help but wiggle your foot in rhythm just under the bar counter.

Goose finished up the song, hitting the keyboard one last time with a strong movement, then he threw his head back and howled like a wolf. Maverick, his partner in crime and fellow pilot, soon followed him in this primal yet quite funny way of celebrating the end of their spectacle.

"Did ya see that? We are on fire tonight!" Maverick boasted, wrapping one arm around his best friend's shoulders. His lips stretched in a charming smile adorned with perfect white teeth.

"That's maybe why the weather is so hoooot. That's because of us, honey."

They both burst into laughter as they stood up from the piano bench. They slapped each other butt before heading straight to the bar counter. The tall blonde man raised one hand to catch the attention of the bartender. "Two beers for two legends!" He laughed.

Your eyes followed each of the duo's moves as they sat on stools and clinked their beers together. Goose brought the glass to his lips, but as he did his warm brown eyes noticed you, sitting a little further away. A glimmer of delight sparkled in the chocolate pools his irises were. There we go ... You thought. Since the first day you were introduced to the squad, Goose had set his sights on you. Viper had barely left you with the other pilots and the tall blonde man started to hit on you. Yet, you always rejected him. You joined Top Gun to become the best female pilot of your times, not to frolic with some arrogant and horny soldiers. Being one of the few women in a military context was already difficult enough by itself to bother yourself with relationships. Nevertheless, Goose had something. A something that you always struggled to define. Of course, the man was kind of handsome: tall thin boy with charming traits, seductive brown eyes and a perfectly trimmed mustache embracing his upper lip. But his irresistible charisma had nothing to do with his looks. It was his whole attitude: Nick "Goose" Bradshaw was a sunshine. His humor and adorable silly attitude irradiated from him and infected all the people surrounding him. You probably would have fallen for him in another context... But life decided otherwise.

"Y/CS!" His voice cheered. He stood up from his stool to join you, pushing his best friend out of the way. Maverick jumped: he had almost spilled his beer. With one elegant movement, the dark-haired pilot spinned on the stool to observe Goose and Y/N talking. He could not help but smirk: Goose was going to go back home alone tonight once again, and he did not want to miss such a spectacle.

Goose hopped on the stool that was next to yours, and rest his elbow on the bar counter to press his chin against the back of his hands. You looked at him with one raised eyebrow.

"I am more than delighted to see you here. You're so beautiful tonight that I can compare you to a magnificent mirage in this desert of drunk soldiers and tipsy Madames." He said, making his best impression of a gentleman. Then, he leaned towards you with his most beautiful smile: "Would you bless a poor sinner like me with a dance?" His eyebrows wiggled in a more than flirtatious fashion.

A little chuckle escaped from your rosy lips. You stared at him silently for a few solid seconds before drinking the last sip of your beer: " Goose, Goose, Goose...How many times are you going to play this stupid game with me?"

"Until you say yes to me, honey." He winked, a mischievous grin sculpted on his tempting lips.

You leaned a bit more toward him, bringing your face a little bit closer to his. The luscious scent of his tanning spray and after-shave caressed your nose. You hummed, as discreetly as you can, before moistening your lips with the tip of your tongue.

"Don't be a silly goose."

"I'm nothing but a silly Goose."

"Alright. One dance and after that, you leave me alone." You gave up, rolling your eyes to show how annoyed you were -- but were you really that annoyed?

The young soldier leaped from the stool with a noisy "yee-haw". Doing so, he turned his head to look at Maverick. The dark-haired man had been as surprised as Goose at your positive answer. After weeks and weeks of rejection, you agreed to dance? He could not believe his ears. Delighted by his partner's astonishment, the tall blonde gave him the finger and turned his attention back to you again. Goose offered his hand, a charming smile on his lips. You could not help but chuckle… His charms definitely work on you. You followed him through the ocean of sweaty bodies dancing in the pub until you both reach a more breathable corner. “Alright, just focus on my eyes, nothing else,” Goose said, his voice turning into a soft melody sung in your ear. He pulled back his face slightly and pressed his hands on your hips. The single sensation of his palms’ warmth sent shivers down your spine. You felt him pressing a little bit more, bringing your body against his until your hips met. Goose”s chocolate eyes were locked in yours, drowning in their infinite beauty. You swallowed with a bit of difficulty as you abandoned your body in his hands. To be honest, you had never been a great dancer - or at least you had never danced with someone. Yet, Goose took you away with him in a slow dance, as delicate as a rose petal swirling in the wind. One minute into this dance was enough for you to make you forget everything that was surrounding you: the other pilots, the suffocating heat, and even the stress of your day. All that mattered was him, and the intoxicating perfume that was pleasantly tingling your nostril. You half-closed your eyes; your face resting in the crook of his neck.

“Bradshaw?”

“Yes, honey?” He answered, lowering his eyes but still dancing with snuggled in his arms.

You pulled back your face from him to dive your gaze into his. As you did so, a slight pink shade appeared on his cheeks. You were so dazzling he could barely breathe.

“What if you take me to bed or lose me forever?”

His face enlightened at your sweet words. Goose moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue and parted them to speak: “Show me the way home…” He murmured, before kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Honey.”

#top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader #Pete Maverick Mitchell #goose top gun #nick bradshaw #nick goose bradshaw #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #tgm fandom #top gun 86 #pete mitchell fanfiction #iceman fic #Iceman top gun

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peachetteprice · 6 months ago

Text

27 Hawthorn Court | Simon "Ghost" Riley

Chapter 4 - The Apple Falls Far

Chapter Summary:

Ruth has doubts about her previous endeavours with the investigation. Though her worries are soon dispelled after a familiar face invigorates some much-needed passion for justice.

1.8K Words

Content warning: mentions of alcohol (?)

Ruth entered the bar at no later than seven in the evening.

There was a dainty whisper of a piano and saxophone harmonising in some form of light jazz - though she was never much of a connoisseur - shrouded by tangerine and fuschia flourescent lights which somehow possessed the ability to amplify the band's smooth tones, handily concealing any discolour Ruth felt about those case files by virtue of bewitchment.

It was a dark and damp evening, all things considered. The only thing that could have salvaged her mood was a heavy drink and some menial chatter with the bartender.

So, she approached the bar, and - after waiting for some time, clearly understanding the general predicament Ruth had gotten herself into - the bartender asked with concern;

"What can I get you?"

Ruth sighed.

There was nothing she could have done except sigh. It wasn't her place to inform anyone of her own broken hubris, let alone a bartender privy to the most detrimental of secrets. Dissolving marriages, petty crime, cheating scandals; it was his day-to-day, and it was in Ruth's best interest not to become part of his orderly convoy of discussion for the next patron.

"Give me your strongest," she muttered, bottom writhing on a stool too small for her.

It was such a subtly aggravating predicament.

After some time, as the bartender rooted beneath the bar top for a drink suitable for a grown woman, he swiftly placed it before her.

Ruth stared at it for a moment before saying;

"I said your strongest, George." She sighed. Because George was playing 'barkeep', and she was his sole customer, though he wasn't doing a very good job at it. "You can do better than orange juice."

And he likely could.

It was then, that, only a few moments later - after a rummage through the cabinet on his hands and knees (which was really a wicker basket full of snacks and cartons of juice) - the bartender produced apple juice, this time, placing it before Ruth with a proud smile

"That's more like it," she hissed with adoration, stabbing the straw through the flimsy sheath of aluminium foil, "did you have a good day at school?"

"Yeah." His eyes wavered around the bar, and Ruth watched them ardently as he spoke. "But Molly stole my brachiosaurus."

"Why did she steal your brachiosaurus?"

"I don't know." Muttered George, and he went straight back to wiping stains along the bar top with a heavy-machinery-themed rag where there were none.

So, there was silence. And Ruth let it hang.

Perhaps she was thinking of how her own day went, uneventful and uninspired as she crawled through the streets of Greater Manchester on roads too choked with traffic and suffocated by people too idiotic for their own aspiring ideals. It was a day of rampant teenagers stealing their parent's cars and running them dry around the estates, middle-aged alcoholics starting public brawls in the car parks of Asda and Tesco - a national issue - and faux calls from elderly ladies complaining about pieces of litter discarded in their front gardens.

"How did you feel when she stole your brachiosaurus?" Ruth was palming over the text on the rear of the carton, now, reading line by line. No added sugar, no added colouring, naturally sourced ingredients.

"I felt sad."

Sad. Huh.

Ruth knew a little bit about feeling sad. Dull, she would have called it, not wanting to give anybody the impression she was streaming tears in the shower on a dark night or onto her pillowcase before she fell asleep. Dull was a feeling she felt often, and in small waves, though sometimes big - but nothing more than a wailing rumble because that was a different feeling entirely - and it was one she knew rather well, too. It wasn't her favourite emotion, per se, but it might have been her most default one

It was intruiging, it truly was - George's predicament, that was - and she wished to further the conversation, probing

"Did ya feel anything else?"

George pondered for a moment, eyelashes fluttering against the sprig of curls in front of his forehead. He'd need a trim soon. "Maybe a little bit angry." He whispered, almost as if it was a secret he shouldn't tell.

"Angry. Because it was precious to you? Your brachiosaurus."

George thought, napping a carton of apple juice for himself, and - although it was almost seven-thirty and he wasn't allowed sugar before bedtime - Ruth thought he might have needed it and let it slide. "Yeah. And it was mine."

"It was yours." She affirmed, sucking the last dribbles from the bottom of the carton.

"Molly was being mean." He grumbled, flicking the curl of hair from his own forehead. He had the most beautiful set of locks, did George, and he was the spitting image of his father when he was younger, too. Bright, gleaming blue eyes and sweet bulbous cheeks that crinkled whenever he smiled.

George was the complete antithesis of Ruth. She had dark, rather frazzled-looking brown hair from too much styling in her younger years - much more monotone and less saturated than George's - and matching brown eyes, though if the lighting was generous, they almost shone with flecks of gold.

"Did'ya shout at her to give it back?" Ruth pondered, smiling a little as she spoke.

"Daddy said you shouldn't shout. He said that if you ask politely, they'll give it back."

Hm. Daddy. Chris, he was called. A bastard of a man.

"And did she?" Ruth brushed the hair from his eyes, ensuring it wouldn't irritate his lashes anymore.

George simply nodded, intent on drinking his before expelling his thoughts.

Yes, he explained. She did give it back because she was just being a little bit mean, but not loads mean. Otherwise, she wouldn't have given it back. If Molly was being loads mean - and George was really dragging out the vowels in 'loads' - he would have called on the teacher to intervene, of course, because that's how dynamic in a reception classroom prevailed.

"Why d'you think Molly stole your brachiosaurus?" She repeated, barely remembering she'd asked it earlier.

George gulped down the last droplets of juice, blinking blankly, before answering;

"Maybe she was lonely."

Maybe she was lonely.

What drivel.

There was a full glass of wine, now - to the rim, in fact - within Ruth's palm. The case files were on her lap, including her typed notes at her hip. Truth be told, there wasn't much to say about it. The affinity she felt to that little boy, plagued eyes boring through her skull, was crippling. The suspect's disposition, moreover, equally so, just as were the troubling words spoken by Price in the booth of the McDonald's in Sale.

"Lonely..." She sighed, finger travelling the circumference of the glass.

Perhaps she was lonely, too. Perhaps she needed a drink elsewhere, somewhere a little more crowded, a little more stuffed with people who could talk her ears off - whether they were a part of her conversation or not.

Yes, that was it.

She needed a drink.

And so, by nine, she had adorned her newest pair of black heels - ones with thick wedged soles and velvet trim - with a smart top with jeans. She wasn't one for princess dresses or overt makeup, nor did she wish to see any of her colleagues (or God-forbidding, any of her previous convicts) in an outfit that showed more than its provocation whenever she bent at the waist.

By ten, she was sitting in the pub with a vodka and coke in hand - though, it was more at her fingertips as they lazily drawled over the side of glass, smearing the condensation along - eyes transfixed on the bartender as he shifted from one side of the bar to the other with a smile that could only be described as 'over-compensating'.

It took another few minutes of silence before anyone approached her. She might have accepted the invitation to conversation, had she not recognised the stranger beside her who did, unfortunately, try.

"I didn't take ya for a vodka-and-coke drinkin' woman."

That voice. Deep, gruff, heavy.

John Price.

"I don't wanna talk." Spat Ruth.

Clean, cut, and straight to the point. The truth was, she hadn't come to the pub for chatter with a man like him. His words squirmed through her mind like the fall-out from a bad ear infection, and she despised another set of his words compounding the agony.

"Thought I'd thank ya." His lips smacked in the plenary of an awkward moment. "For bein' so professional and giving the case up, that is."

The case. The case files. They were still in her home. On her piano stand, where she'd also placed her unfinished glass of wine that was probably brewing with a layer of dust, now. And here was John Price, right beside her, shoulders occupying the air made for two. Maybe he knew. Maybe he knew she had taken the case files (or at least taken copies of them, at least), and he was there to confront her about it with every inch of his brooding six-foot stature.

"S'that it?" Questioned Ruth.

"Sure." He nodded, flexing his chest with a gruff groan. "Wanted a bit of conversation, that's all. One investigator to another."

"Sorry." She huffed, fingertips turning wrinkled from the condensation on the outside of her glass. She still hadn't touched it, not in five minutes. Not since John sat down beside her. "Guess m'not in the mood tonight."

"Fair enough." He sniffed, palm running along the wood grain of the bar top. "I'll leave you be, then."

The thought was swift to occur - alarmingly so, even - as John stepped from the bar stool, his head still firmly aligned with hers on the vertical. And the thought was, in no fewer words than some:

"What's gonna happen with the case?"

It made John come to a standstill. In the few seconds following, he paused, pondered, and pivoted himself back towards her. His shoes were already pointing in her direction, that, they both could see, but he had since adjusted the tilt of his shoulders so that his eyes could more easily glide over her face. Ruth looked back at him, pupils bloated, a worried knot niggling her brow.

Neither knew what the other was thinking.

And neither, for a rather long time, said anything.

Until John, being the bigger - albeit only - man, grumbled;

"It'll get sorted, Wyatt."

And, after that very sentence, Ruth could only think of one thing. It plagued her every thought, caused an even larger kink to dig into her brow, and sent another queue of thoughts to sit pending as the current wasted away behind her eye sockets. And the thought was, of all possible thoughts;

If she had stolen his brachiosaurus, it was a bloody massive one.

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #captain john price #captain jonathan price #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #call of duty fanfiction #callofduty #simon riley #ghost fanfiction #cod #ghost cod

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imaginesforeveryone · 6 months ago

Text

Retreat (Part 6)

Summary: This is the continuation of Navy Nurse and Y/N and Rooster life after the big mission Pairing: Y/N x Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw Warnings: smut, baby kink if you squint very tightly, pregnancy, drinking,

Pulling into the Hard Deck with your brother and Rooster you slid out of the car and letting your brother out of the back seat before shutting the door.

“So this is the bar huh?” He asked looking over at it.

“Sure is. The place we hang out the most. Made amazing friends at, met Rooster at.” You said smiling as you put your arm under Roosters. Getting to the front door you all walked in together and made your way to the bar.

“Hey Pen!” You yelled over the loud people around you.

“Hey Rat, your regular?” She asked.

“I’ll just take some water.” You said realizing that it’s probably a little suspicious that you drinking water, but what can you do?

“Okay.” She said a little confused.

“What about you Rooster and…” Penny stopped looking at your brother.

“Brian, I’m Y/N’s brother” He said with a wink to Penny and Penny blushed a little. He had the effect on a lot of people. You couldn’t count on two hands how many women he has picked up at a bar by just looking at them.

“My normal Pen.” Rooster told her.

“I’ll take beer and a shot of whiskey.” He told her leaning over the bar.

“Just like your sister.” She said with a smile and going to grab everything. She came back a minute later and gave everything to you guys. Making your way over to the rest of the group.

“Y/N, Rooster!” Phoenix said coming over and hugging the both of you. She was already a bit drunk so she was getting a bit sloppy.

“And who is this tall glass of whiskey?” She asked looking over at Brian.

“Phoenix, this is my brother Brian, Brian this is Phoenix, Bob, Hangman, Fanboy, and Payback.” You said introducing him to everyone. Everyone waved and so did Brian. But instead of waving at Phoenix he grabbed her hand and kissed the top of it. You rolled your eyes and walked to the other side to go catch up with Hangman and Payback. You watched as Rooster and your brother mingled. Making sure nothing bad happened between the two of them. They drank all night together eventually dancing together like two drunk children and Rooster even got on the piano. It was rounding around 2 AM. Brian was in the corner making out with Phoenix, and Bradley sat on a stool talking to Payback looking a bit wobbly.

“Alright, well I should probably get them two out of here and in a bed.” You told Hangman standing up.

“Alright, well it was good catching up with you. Hopefully you’ll be flying again soon. Always have a good time flying with you. See you tommrrow” He said giving you a hug and you went over to Rooster.

“Come on you big lug, let’s get you home and into bed.” You said walking to Rooster and Payback.

“Oh hey there sexy.” He said wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side. You grabbed his keys out of his pocket and backed up a bit.

“Come let’s get home.” You said with a giggle and helping him up. Walking over to Brian now and neither of them letting up on their make out session.

“I’ll see you two tomorrow?” You asked walking by them. He just put his thumb up not taking his lips off Phoenix. Rooster leaning on you just a bit trying to keep himself steady.

“Come on darling.” You said starting to walk to the front door.

“Bye Penny. We’ll see you!” You said as you passed the bar.

“Drive safe you two.” She yelled at you as you walked out.

“You’re so pretty.” Rooster said looking over at you.

“And you’re drunk.” You said with a giggle.

“and you’re still pretty.” He rebuttled. You rolled your eyes and smiled at his cheekiness even when he’s drunk. Getting to the car you got him into the passenger seat and shutting the door once he was in. You went to the driver side, started the car and took off back to your house.

“I cant wait to spend the rest of my life with you.” Rooster said with his eyes closed next to you. You smiled almost crying a little because he has never said anything about spending the rest of your lives together.

“I also cant wait for this little peanut to get here.” He said reaching over and rubbing your stomach. Smiling you grabbed his hand and held it in yours. You pulled up to your house minutes later and got out. Rooster almost rolling out by catching himself on his feet you giggled to yourself seeing it.

“Alright come on drunky.” You said grabbing his hand so he could follow behind you.

“Mmm, I love this view” He said from behind you and gave you a little smack on the butt making you get turned just a little. You walked in and shut and locked the door behind you.

“Go in the room, I’m going to get you some water and medicine.” You told Bradley as you walked to the kitchen.

“Ai Ai Captain.” He said in slurs and went to the bedroom. You grabbed everything and a water for yourself and went to the bedroom. Bradley was no where in sight, but you saw the bathroom door closed. You set the stuff on his bed side table so he could take it as soon a he woke up tomorrow. You went over to your dresser and took your jewelry off and setting it in your holder. You stripped off your shirt and your bra along with it causing you to sigh out a little at the relief of you breast being free. They were super sensitive and sore probably from the whole being pregnant thing. You untucked your belt and took your jeans off leaving you in just your panties. You looked over at the body mirror in the corner of the room and turned sideways seeing the small bump that was beginning to form. You feel two strong hands wrap around you and lay on your bump, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You’re so beautiful.” Bradley said moving you long hair to one side and planting kisses on your neck. He seemed to be at least 20 percent more coherent

“I love you Bradley.” You said turning around and putting your arms around his neck. He placed a long, slow, sloppy kiss to your lips. His hands starting to roam over your body touching and feeling every part of you. He grabbed your ass cheeks and lifted you up so your legs were wrapped around his torso. Walking backwards and his legs hit the back of the bed making him fall backwards. You stayed straddling him but stopped kissing him. You just looked at him. He had taken his shirt off already. The moonlight shining through the curtains giving you just enough light to out line his perfectly sculpted abs and the V the ran right to where you wanted. Running your hand from his neck, down his chest and to the top of jeans starting to play with the button of it.

“You want something babygirl?” He asked sitting up on his elbows to get a better view of you. You shook your head yes.

“Use your words beautiful girl.” He said caressing your cheek.

“Yes.” You said outloud now.

“Yes, what?” He said wanting you to say his name, but you decided to get a little creative.

“Yes daddy.” You said and his eyes shot up to look at you. They went from dark brown to just about black. He flipped you on your back quickly, but. softly making sure not to hurt you. He stood in front of you and pulled his pants down, along with his boxers. His full erection coming out. Making you feel more and more wet under your panties and wanting him right then and there.

“Please Bradley. Fuck me.” You cried out pretty much begging.

“I will baby, don’t you worry that pretty little head.” He said getting down on his knees in front of the bed and began kissing you up your leg painfully slow. He finally reached your mid section and kissed you on your heat over your panties.

“Roos. Please.” You wined out starting to buck your hips up at him. He grabbed ahold of your hips to hold you steady so you couldn’t run away or do anything he didn’t want you to do. Staying just above you not touching you with his mouth yet.

“Fuuuckk. please” You cried out and with that he tore you panties completely off and attached his lips to your clit and began sucking, licking and teasing it.

“Oh shit. Bradley. Yes, right there. You’re already going to make me cum. Keep doing that.” You moaned out taking some of his hair in your hand. He kept going and even added a finger making your legs quiver around his head. You couldn’t get any words out just high pitched moans as you came uncontrollably.

“Fuck. Come here.” You said grabbing his face and plunging your lips onto his tasting yourself on his tongue. He held himself up with his hands making sure he didn’t laying in your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered between kisses and he turned over on his back and pulling you on top of him. You leaned down still not wanting to taking your lips away from his. He reached between the two of you and rubbing the tip of his dick along your opening.

“Put it in.” You demanded.

“It wont hurt the baby right?” He whispered out making you laugh out loud.

“No. Just do it.” You said with a smile and he did as he was told and slowly slid into you. Both of you letting out a breathy moan in unison.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He breathed out into your ear.

“And you’re so fucking big” You said sitting up to get him a bit deeper inside of you. Moaning out as you felt him deep inside of you. He laid is hands on the little bump your stomach had. Grinding your hips back and forth on him making his head go back into the pillow and grabbing your hips so tight you knew you’d have bruises the next morning. He lifted you slightly so he could start pumping into you a little faster.

“This okay?” He asked through deep breathes.

“Harder.” You said out and your hands laid on his chest digging your nails into his pecks knowing there would be deep scratch marks there in the morning. You felt you walls clenching around his dick as you felt a knot start to form in your stomach.

“Please. Don’t stop. I’m going to cum again.” You said sitting back up straight to get him deeper in you. He kept pounding into you harder and harder, he was starting to get sloppy in his hips, you knowing he was also about to cum.

“Cum with me babygirl.” He said putting a finger in his mouth and then going to rub your clit gently, making your legs try to close shut and shake.

“Yes, Yes, I’m going to cum.” You cried out and you came all over him. As your walls clenched as you did so, it milked him into you. Riding out your highs together you fell forward on his chest breathing heavily. You rolled to your side and cuddled into Bradleys side.

“I love you.” You whispered to him. He placed a soft kiss on your temple and looked dow at you.

“I love you babygirl.” He said back smiling. You two fell asleep quickly after that.

*the next morning*

You felt the warm summer breeze swish through your bedroom window giving you a smell of the salty ocean. Eyes fluttering open and reaching for Rooster but he wasn’t there. Sitting up in bed and looking at the clock, 0800, you got up wrapping your sheet around your naked body. You first checked the bathroom and he wasn’t there. Then you walked out of the bedroom and went to the kitchen and there he was. Stood with his back towards you leaning over the island looking like he was reading something. Sneaking up behind him you opened the sheet and wrapped your arms around him.

“Good morning babygirl.” He said through a smile.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You asked and he turned around to look at you and you wrapped yourself back up in the sheet.

“You looked to peaceful, and a momma needs her rest.” He told you taking your face in his hands and kissing your lips softly. You smiled at him taking his loving eyes and beautiful face.

“Alright how about we get dressed, we have to go pick you the uhaul in an hour.” He said looking down at you. You turned around and made your way back the bedroom, Bradley followed close behind you. Making it to the room you went and grabbed an oversized shirt, a pair of shorts, bra and panties. You went over and put them on your bed and looked over seeing your torn to shred panties from the night before. Rooster saw you looking at them and came over to you placing a hand on your naked stomach.

“How are you feeling today?” He asked rubbing soft circle.

“Actually amazing. Best I’ve felt in a while.” You said looking over to him.

“Then maybe I just need to fuck you every night huh?” He said leaning down and kissing your neck.

“Mmm, I wish, but idk if I could handle that every single night. Also, remember I’m just going to keep getting bigger and bigger. You might not want to touch me then at all.” You said thinking about that you will be super round with in a short time and thinking maybe Bradley will think you’re gross when you become like that.

“Stop it. I will never not want to touch you. You are beautiful, you will always be beautiful no matter what. You are carrying life inside of you. Something we both had part in. You have a piece of me inside of you growing.” He said caressing your cheek softly. Your frown turned into a smile at his wonderful words.

“Alright, alright. let’s get ready and go get the truck.” You said kissing his cheek and resumed getting dressed. Once you were done you put your shoes on and heard a knock at the front door.

“I got it!” Rooster yelled from the kitchen. You went out to see who it was.

“Ohhh look at you two!” Rooster said. You rounded the corner and saw Brian with Phoenix.

“Oh, look at the love birds.” You said leaning against the wall looking at the two of them.

“Stop. I’ve known him a day.” Phoenix said rolling her eyes and coming to give you a hug.

“Last night definitely looked like you’ve known him way longer.” You said poking fun of their long make out session the night before at the Hard Deck.

“Roos.” You said calling him over to you once Phoenix went to sit on the couch.

“What’s up honey?” He asked looking down at you.

“I think we should tell him now.” You said in a whisper.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Unless you want me picking up heavy things all day to avoid telling him then yes.” You told him.

“Goodpoint.” He said shaking his head yes. You turned and went to go get the present from your bedroom. Starting to get a little nervous you left the room with the bag in hand.

“Brian, I have something for you.” You said walking over to him and giving him the bag.

“What’s this?” He asked looking over at you from the other side of the island. Rooster came over and stood next to you and placed his hand on the small of your back. Phoenix came over and sat at one of the stools seeing what was going on.

“Open it you non surprise loving man.” You said with a laugh. He started to take the tissue paper out and you felt heart beating faster. Rooster now rubbing small circles on your back knowing you were very nervous. He got to the once and pulled it out. Phoenix looked over at you with the widest eyes you’d ever seen. You shook your head so that she wouldn’t freak out just yet. You wanted Brian to figure it out first. He read the onsie slowly, and then his eyes shot up to look at you and Bradley.

“Holy shit. You’re pregnant?” He asked looking up and down.

“There’s more.” You said smiling, tears starting to well up in your eyes. He grabbed the shirt out and read it. You were waiting for his reaction. Him being a Marine its hard to read his expressions. Part of basic training.

“Holy fuck! I’m going to be an uncle!?” He yelled out running around the island and lifting you up and hugging you. Phoenix celebrated now running to hug Rooster.

“I’m so happy for you guys.” Phoenix said. You took in every moment of the hug your brother was giving you.

“I’m so happy for you baby sis.” He whispered in your ear and set you down.

“Congrats Bro.” He said going to Rooster and pulling him into a hug. Phoenix came over with a huge smile.

“SO you guys really got your fuck on.” She said with a giggle and hugged you.

“Okay, so don’t tell any of the guys. I’m planning a dinner tonight after we are done moving everything to tell everyone.” You told Phoenix.

“Does dad know?” Brian asked looking over at you.

“No, I’m planning a trip to go see him in about a month. Hoping I’m not showing too much by then so it can be somewhat of a surprise.” You said to him.

“Alright we should probably go get the truck.” Bradley said coming back over to you.

“How about, you and me go get it. Let the girls finish up the small packing.” Brian said to Bradley.

“Okay thats fine.” He said.

“I love you. I’ll be back soon.” He said giving you a kiss and walking out the door with Brian.

“OMG I can’t believe this.” Phoenix said as soon as the door shut.

“alright, we can talk and pack at the same time. Lets go.” You told her rolling your eyes and going to the guest bedroom.

About 30 minutes later Bradley and Brian pulled up with the truck and came inside.

“Okay, good you didn’t kill him.” You said as they walked in making Brian laugh.

“No. He’s a good guy.” Brian said with a smile and putting a hand on Bradley shoulder. There was a knock on the door and you stepped over to open it. It was Mav, Hangman, Payback, Fanboy and Bob.

“Hey guys! Come on in.” You said smiling and giving all of them hugs.

“Wow, nice place.” Hangman said looking around.

“Well, not anymore ‘my place’ ” You putting air quotes up.

“alright, lets get started shall we?” Rooster said showing all the guys what the plan was. It was about 2 hours later and the truck was full, the Bronco was full, and your Jeep was full and your house was empty. It was surreal. You moved across the country, to a brand new place, brand new people, and this was the end of a chapter for you.

But this is beginning of a whole new amazing chapter

Taglist: @avengersfan25 @talokan34

#bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster xy/n #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster #imagine #imagines

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thunderbunny24 · 5 months ago

Text

Second Chance at Love

I have to give credit to Billie Eilish for her song Ocean Eyes. I stole it for my OC. I also finally got the title of the whole story into the story.

Part 8

It had felt like weeks since you had seen Matthew yet it was only 5 days. You both had texted everyday and talked every night but your schedules made it impossible for you to get a babysitter and have a date. You had decided to throw caution to the wind and invited him over for dinner with you and Violet for Thursday at 6pm. He had agreed and promised to keep everything PG while Violet was awake.

Violet was so excited about Matthew coming over that she decided to do her homework in the kitchen so she could listen for him and open the front door to see him first. There was still about 30 minutes before he was supposed to get there so you went to your music room and worked.

At 5:34pm there was a knock at your front door. Violet jumped up and ran to the door. She threw it open and squealed. “Mr. Matt!” She basically jumped into his arms.

He laughed as he carried her in and shut the door. “It’s good to see you again Miss Violet.” He set her down. “Where is your mom?”

Violet pointed. “She’s in her music room. She tends to get a little extra inspired when she has writing times and studio times in the same week. I can take you to her.” She stuck her hand out and Matthew took it and followed the 8-year-old. As they got closer to a room with the door shut and piano music coming from behind the door, Violet spoke softly. “I’m not supposed to bother Mommy unless it’s an emergency.”

Matthew nodded. “Why don’t you go back and I’ll be the one who gets in trouble for bugging her.” Violet nodded and skipped back down the hall. He stood at the door listening to your voice singing along with the piano but didn’t recognize the song.

You stopped and scribbled out a line on the piece of paper in front of you to rewrite it better. You looked at the clock on your phone and thought, “He’ll be here soon. One last time.” You started playing the piano again.

I've been watching you for some time Can't stop staring at those ocean eyes Burning cities and napalm skies Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes Your ocean eyes

No fair You really know how to make me cry When you give me those ocean eyes I'm scared I've never fallen from quite this high Falling into your ocean eyes Those ocean eyes

Matthew thought to himself, “Is that about me? She said the other night my eyes were ocean blue.” His cheeks flushed. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He heard the piano stool scoot back. You opened the door and were shocked to see Matthew standing there. Before you could even say anything, he pulled you into a big hug and kissed the top of your head. “I’m early.”

You smiled into his chest. “You are. How long have you been out here?”

He released his hold so he could look into your eyes. “Just a moment. Violet told me you were in here.” He leaned down and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

You glanced over your shoulder to the piano then back at Matthew. “Did you hear what I was working on?” He nodded. You turned bright red. “It’s not done yet. I just started working on it today.”

Matthew leaned down and kissed your forehead. “It sounded beautiful. I look forward to hearing it completed one day.”

You looked down at your feet and quietly said, “You have got to quit being early.” You laughed then started walking towards the kitchen, Matthew a step behind you. “I need to finish up dinner but it won’t take long if you want to hang out in the kitchen while I work.”

“Violet seems to have already taken up residence in the kitchen so I’m glad to join in. Is there anything I can help with?” Matthew took a seat at the bar next to Violet when you pulled out a cutting board.

Violet answered for you. “Mommy is making her chicken enchiladas. She’s a pro at them. You just need to watch and enjoy.” You laughed and rolled your eyes at your daughter. “They are so good. I wish Mommy would make them every week. I even take them for lunch the next day and eat them cold. You are going to be hooked.”

“Violet!” You lightly chastised your child. “It’s just enchiladas. Don’t build it up too much.” You continued to chop up the chicken you had cooked earlier in the day. “Are you almost done with your homework?”

Violet nodded. “Yes ma’am. I just need to put it in my folder.”

You took all the chicken you had cut up and placed it in a bowl. “Why don’t you put it up then do all the stuff you need to get ready for school tomorrow? Dinner will be ready in about 20 minutes.” Violet reluctantly followed your instructions. “Sorry if she is being a bit extra. She is just really excited you are here.”

Matthew shook his head as he watched you put more ingredients into the bowl. “She is adorable. I remember when my kids were that young and I would have friends over.” Matthew laughed. “Heck, I expect Addison to be like that when I have you over.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get anything together for earlier this week. I don’t like Violet staying anywhere but home during the school week and her main sitter is in college and had a big test and two papers due this week.” You started making the enchiladas. “I do have her on standby for Saturday, if you are interested in getting together.” You paused for a moment to look at Matthew to gauge his reaction. “I’m not trying to force anything on you though.”

“No, no. I love it!” Matthew smiled from ear to ear. “Maybe you could come to my place and I can cook for you. Maybe even have a bit of a sleepover.” Matthew sounded so energetic and the idea made you blush.

“Sounds like a plan.” You popped the enchiladas in the oven and set the timer.

“What sounds like a plan?” Violet hopped back onto the stool at the bar she was sitting at earlier.

You walked over and leaned on the counter. “How would you like to have Caitlin babysit you again on Saturday after your playdate with Anna?” Violet wiggled in her seat in excitement. “You may know her, Matthew. Caitlin is Breckin Meyers’s daughter.”

Matthew laughed. “I do. He and I ran in the same circles in the 90s and early 2000s plus he did a stent on Good Girls.”

You nod. “I’ve just started watching Good Girls. I’m only in the middle of season one.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow. “You’re watching my show?”

You wink at him. “Violet, why don’t you go set the table?” You walked around the bar as Matthew rotated his stool so that your body was between his legs. You leaned into Matthew’s ear. “That scene in the first episode in your office was pretty hot.” You ran your hands up his denim covered legs.

Matthew put his hands on your hips and whispered into your ear. “You can sit on my desk anytime you want and I will do way worse to you.” He bit your earlobe making you let out a soft moan as you pressed your body closer to his.

“Mommy, can you do drinks?” Violet asked.

You let out a sign and nod as you step back from Matthew. “Yes ma’am I can.” You gave Matthew a seductive look. “We have water, sweet tea, some soft drinks and some adult beverages. What would you like, sir?”

“I want tea.” Violet answered.

Matthew looked at you and licked his lips. “I’ll just take some water.” He got up from the bar and walked into the kitchen to help.

The three of you ate dinner together in the dining room, each chatting about your day and what you had going on the next day, with Matthew sitting at the head of the table. After dinner Matthew helped you clean up the kitchen while Violet took her shower, then you all went to the living room and sat on the couch to watch a movie. Violet used your lap as a pillow while Matthew played with your hair. By the time the movie was over, you had fallen asleep on Matthew’s shoulder. Violet whispered to him that she could put herself to bed and for him to stay still and let you sleep. He shook his head and gently replaced his shoulder with a couch pillow and helped get Violet to bed. After she was all tucked in, Matthew opened doors upstairs until he found which room he believed to be your bedroom then walked down the stairs to the living room to get you. You hadn’t moved at all. He scooped you up and brought you into the bedroom, placing you on the bed and covering you up with a blanket he saw on a chair in the room.

Matthew leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead goodbye when you reached out and grabbed the hem of his shirt. “Please don’t leave.” You sleepily said. Matthew smiled then kicked off his shoes and went to sit on the other side of your bed. You rolled over and grabbed his leg like it was your teddy bear. It was obvious you were asleep but he decided to stay until you rolled over and let go of his leg. Until then, he sat scrolling through his phone, playing with your hair and listening to you snore like a grown man.

“You are the one.” Matthew said, barely audible. “You are my second chance at love. My second chance at a complete family. My second soulmate.” Tears came to his eyes as he looked down at you and imagined your lives together. “You may be my second but I will love you so hard, like you are my first.”

********** ********** **********

Violet opened your bedroom door and was surprised to see both you and Matthew on the bed asleep. She walked over to your side and lightly nudged you. “Mommy, it’s 6 o’clock. Time to wake up.” You made a grumbling noise. Violet nudged you again. “Mommy, you need to wake up and get ready.” You grumbled again but opened your eyes and saw your daughter standing just a few inches from your face. “Good morning Mommy! Do you want me to wake up Mr. Matt too?”

You scrunched your eyebrows. “Mr. Matt?”

“Yeah.” Violet pointed. “He’s asleep too.”

“What…Matt…What?” Violet pointed at the arm around your waist. “Shit! No sweetheart. I’ve got it. You go get ready for school.” Violet nodded and bounced out of your room. You finally registered the weight of the arm around your waist and the leg laying over your legs. You tried to slip out of the bed but there was no moving Matthew’s body. You decided to start nudging his arm. “Matthew…Matt.”

He buried his face in your hair and sleepily said, “I like when you call me Matt.”

You smiled and nudged him again. “Matt, you need to wake up.” He shook his head and pulled you closer to him. You could feel his morning erection pressing against your butt. “Matt, sweetheart, you have to get up because I have to get Violet to school.” You hear him grumble then remove his arm and leg to stretch behind you, making him feel even taller than he already was. “Good morning sleepyhead.”

Matt sat up and smiled at you. “Good morning to you.” He started looking around for his glasses. “I didn’t mean to stay here last night but you had a death grip on my leg.” He leaned in to kiss you but you pulled back and covered your mouth. Matt grabbed your wrists and pulled them down. “I have morning breath too. Come here.” You gave in and leaned in for a kiss.

“I don’t remember coming up here. Last thing I remember was Ariel getting her human legs from Mellisa McCarthy.” You got off the bed and started walking to your bathroom. Matt followed.

“You passed out and when the movie was over, I put you both to bed.” Matt walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and making eye contact with your reflection. “That was the best sleep I’ve had in years.”

You smiled and nodded. “Me too and without my CPAP.”

Matt laughed. “Yeah, you needed that. You snore like a man.” You blushed. Matt kissed the top of your head. “I could listen to it all night, though. Hell, I did listen to it all night.” You turned around and smacked him in the chest. “Hey now!” He laughed. “I don’t want to do this but I better leave so you can do what you need to get Violet ready for school. I’ll text you later.” You pouted but gave him a hug and walked him down to the front door.

“Matth…Matt, thank you for last night. It kind of felt like what having a family should feel like.”

Matt gave you a huge hug. “I would love to always feel like a family with you.” He leaned down to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll text you, okay.” You nod. “Goodbye sweetheart.”

You stood at the door and watched him walk to his car, waving when he made eye contact with you. Once he started to drive off, you went inside to start getting ready for the day.

#matthew lillard #scream #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fanfic

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