#he wasn't that bristly yet

[shotmrmiller]

i'll teach you love, don't worry.

simon x virgin f!reader 2.2k words oops

explicit smut mdni

cbf!simon teaches you everything.

he convinces you to let him be your first kiss. "don't ya wanna know how to kiss when finally get your first boyfriend?"

embarrassing, because you're in college yet still completely inexperienced.

when you bite your lip and give a subtle nod of agreement, a sly smirk graces his lips.

"don't worry love, i'll teach you."

the way he slowly slanted his lips over yours, his tongue gently sliding into your mouth, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip before pulling away— breaths mingling as he rested his forehead against yours after the searing kiss had your knees weak. if it wasn't for him holding your body up, you would've crumpled to the ground.

-

cbf!simon convinces you to let him teach you how to masturbate. (and kinda eats you out.)

"ya gotta learn your own body first before letting anyone else touch ya."

when you bring up the fact that he'd be touching you for this, simon just said, "yeah, but i'm not jus' anyone, am i love?"

kneeling on the edge of your bed, his warm breath fanned over your bare cunt as he spoke. "ya wanna use the pads of your fingers to touch the little nub tha' peeks out from under your hood." doing as he said, you flinch at the sensitivity of it. "you're just not used to it, is all, you're alrigh'. now, i want you to start drawin' small circles on your clit."

when he sees you wince, he quickly grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away. "oh. you jus' need a bit of lubrication, love. if you'd let me, i can help ya with tha'."

the word yes is scarcely past your lips when he's grabbing onto the supple underside of your widened thighs, gently urging you to lean back— arms instinctively supporting your weight behind you.

he leans forward until his mouth is inches from your cunt, and spits directly on it— the warmth of his saliva on your sensitive bundle of nerves makes your toes curl in response.

he tells you to touch yourself again. "use my spit to rub your clit again, it'll feel much better, i promise."

simon's face remained firmly nestled between your legs, so you would occasionally feel the bristly texture of his stubble grazing your fingers.

each little circle you drew on your slippery bud had the warmth in your lower belly get hotter, your limbs beginning to tighten along with the coil in your stomach. it's a euphoric pleasure that begins to build up, and up, and up. there's an obscene slick noise coming from underneath your fingertips, your thighs are shaking in simon's firm grip, spine curving and toes curling.

you're whimpering and panting, mouth slightly open, head thrown back whatever is happening inside of you. what you do know is that it feels like a rollercoaster and you're starting to reach the peak in the track.

you can feel your core throbbing, pulsing, clenching. your stomach is now painfully tight—

suddenly, your forearm begins to cramp— rapidly.

a pained yet aggravated noise slips from your mouth, and you slump back on the bed to flex your arm— stretching the ligament furiously because you have to stop your pleasure when there's a hot, slippery something in between your puffy folds, flicking at your aching clit and it does it again, and again, and again...

then you feel a suction on your pearl— you're pushed past a threshold you hadn't even known you'd hit.

all of your body's tension just floods out— you're plunged into a pool of blinding ecstasy.

you're letting out choked gasps as your spine tingles in bliss— it's a massive release of emotions, of stress, of responsibility, if only for a few seconds.

you lay in the aftershocks of your climax, limp yet you've never felt more rejuvenated in your life. there's a buzzing in your ears that fades as your soul comes back into your body, and you notice that there are still two rough hands on your quivering thighs— kneading them like a cat.

simon presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, and you jerk away when his facial hair prickles your delicate skin.

"tha' must've been somethin' else, eh? years of repressed—" You swing a sluggish hand at his head to make him stop talking, and when it connects, he returns the favor with a harsh suckle to your thigh.

"don't make me bite you, pet," he gently warns.

you grunt, then go through what just happened in your head.

"simon. did you use your mouth on me?"

he bites your leg in response.

-

cbf!simon teaches you how to give oral sex (per your request)

he all but ripped his trousers off, eager to get started. simon tells you to kneel on the pillow and find yourself face-to-face with his manhood.

it's fucking huge, there's no other way to put it. he's long, an easy 8 inches— he's so thick you can't wrap your hand completely around it.

jesus.

"look at me, pet," he commands.

you look up at him through your lashes, and he's dropping his head forward— covering his eyes, mumbling out a 'fuckin' hell'.

he takes a second to gather his wits, and then lifts his head again, to lock eyes with you.

"there is no wrong way t'do this, y'hear? the most important thing is tha' you enjoy it too. otherwise, i won't be enjoying it either, alright? now, personally, i like a little twinge of pain. so don't be afraid to graze your teeth on my cock, yeah?"

you nod and begin exploring.

the tip of your tongue licks at his glistening slit, pulling a hiss from simon. he tastes slightly salty, and something uniquely him, delicious. you pump his length with your fist, bunching up the skin on the upstroke under his flared head, then pulling down until you hit the base.

simon remains patient, never rushing you to take him into your mouth, or thrusting his hips toward your face. when you flick your eyes up at him, his dark eyes are glassy, outlined by long, straight lashes— heavy-lidded with lust. his crooked nose is stained with a tinge of pink, the same color as his bitten lips.

he's holding himself perfectly still for you, so you grant him respite. you put the entire tip into your mouth. simon lets out a strangled moan and immediately moves his hand to tangle in your hair.

you remember some of the bad porno videos and imitate what they did. you tease the bottom of his cock with the tip of your tongue, tracing the connective tissue that's right under his head. then you take him in further until he reaches the back of your throat, and the sensation makes you gag, forcing you to pull back.

there's a string of saliva connecting you two when he slips out of your mouth, and you close your eyes to breathe in through your nose. simon runs his fingers through your hair wordlessly, only speaking once you're ready to try this again.

"there's no need to take me in tha' deep, i could come from jus' your pretty lips 'round the tip alone."

you take in one more deep, calming breath before putting him in your mouth again and start bobbing your head. the groans that spill from simon's mouth invigorate you to keep going even as your jaw begins to ache, and your blowjob turns sloppy. there's saliva all over his trimmed pubic hair— your chin is slick with it too. you're drooling all over the hand that's wrapped around his base, and just when you are about to stop, simon begins to babble.

"fuck, fuckfuckfuck i'm so close please don't stop please please, fuck your mouth feels like heaven, god i've been wantin’ to do this with ya f'so long and it's finally happenin', fuck don't," he moans, "don't fucking stop, fuck, fuck—"

his cock swells in your mouth to what feels like an impossible size, one you can't handle so your jaw slackens. the edges of your teeth scrape along his rigid length. his upper body curls forward and lets out a long, guttural moan as he comes— cock twitching violently as he spurts thick, warm, ropes of cum on your tongue. it's so much that it begins to spill from the corners of your mouth, dripping down to your chin.

simon's panting harshly, his breath hitting your face when he swallows thickly, then tips your head up with an unsteady hand.

his voice is hoarse when he asks, "d'you swallow it?"

you keep your eyes locked on his as you do, then stick your tongue out of your mouth to show him. simon's gaze fixates on the display before pulling you in as he firmly grasps the back of your head and draws a tantalizing line across your tongue with his own.

later, you tell him to drink more water.

-

cbf!simon teaches you what it's like to be his (you've been his, why do you think the idiot that you met at the mall ghosted you?)

you're swollen and slick after the 4 orgasms simon gave you with his mouth and are more than ready to take him. it doesn't mean you aren't nervous about it.

"don't worry, love. i'll teach you what real pleasure is," and starts to slowly sink into your virginal channel. it's an uncomfortable feeling, and you can feel yourself trying to push the invader out.

"need ya to relax f'me, pet. the more ya resist, the more pain you'll feel. jus' give in, i've got ya," he coos. you nod into his neck and breathe in, letting your muscles go slack, and like a stone dropping into water, simon sinks to the hilt.

the sensation is too much, you feel too full, so you try to squirm away from under him, but he tilts your head back by the hair to give you a passionate kiss.

you experimentally move your hips and the delicious sensation that licks up your spine has you moaning in his mouth. simon pulls away, throws one leg over his arm, and starts to move.

his thrusts are complete, pulling out until only the tip is buried in your tender walls, and pushes until his balls are flush against your sweaty skin— the tip of his head softly pressed against the entrance of your womb.

simon suddenly changes positions, hooking your other leg over his arm, and begins to shallowly thrust halfway— hitting the sweet spot you didn't know you had until a couple of weeks ago.

he pushes into it with such precision that your vision is white behind your eyelids, and there isn't one coherent thought in your empty head.

"i've been dreamin' to put tha’ cock-drunk look on your face f'years," simon hums, "it's somethin' tha' i'll never forget. now give me what's mine, yeah?" and his hips begin to move with ardour. every drag of his thick cock is pushing you to one last mind-numbing orgasm, and simon knows it because he picks up the pace— he's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, almost as if it was his own. when your channel begins to flutter around him, he hisses through his teeth and looks down at where he disappears inside of you.

there are strings of sticky arousal that connect from your puffy lips to his pubic hair, the sounds your cunt makes are obscene, creamy, wet—

words fall from his lips unbidden.

"come around my cock, squeeze me with your tight cunt, fuck, ya feel so fuckin' good, c'mon baby, give it to me, c'mon baby, c'monbabyc'monbaby—"

you choke back a sob as you're slammed by an all-encompassing avalanche of bliss, nails digging into simon's shoulders as you milk his cock for all he's worth.

all of your senses are focused on the feel of simon pistoning into your abused hole, looking for his release. he fucks you straight through your peak, an incredible show of stamina until you're teetering on the brink of oversensitivity.

as you come down from your high, simon moves your legs that were dangling by his side, hooking them over his shoulders, changing the angle— hitting so much deeper than before.

it feels like his cock is rearranging your guts, and if you looked at your stomach, you'd see a lewd bulge in it. you're not sure how much more of him you can take, your nerves feel raw, exposed— but you hold on because the noises simon is making are something you've never heard before. those high-pitched moans are driving you insane. you honestly feel like you could come from them alone, but then his thrusts turn sloppy. after three brutal, spine-jarring thrusts, he finally stiffens.

his cock is twitching inside of you as he spills his essence, not bothering to pull out, mumbling softly about getting you a morning-after pill tomorrow.

simon gently removes himself from within you, dropping his heavy weight to your side with an oof, and drawing your overheated body towards him. the air in the room is thick and heavy— it smells of sweat and sex. the only sound that breaks the silence is the sound of your labored breathing until you whisper that you have to go to the bathroom.

he quickly gets up and carries you to it, then closes the door behind him.

simon spots the blood stain on his bed and is over the fucking moon.

he's your first and will make sure to be your last.

for my 🪐

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Somehow the timing was just right, and Bradley's arrival meant he could join you for your appointment. He'd find out if he was having a son or daughter in person, with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget he loved so much.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

"Bradley," you gasped, head tipped back against the pillar that was pressing into your shoulder. "Your duffle is here. I can see it." Actually, it was just going around and around on the conveyor belt while Bradley sucked gently on your neck and slowly bunched the fabric of your dress in his hand over your bump. And just like that, once again, your focus drifted away from the bag as soon as he spoke.

"I'll get it in a minute," he murmured next to your ear. "I'm a little busy."

You were getting side eye from a woman, and a random man was outright gawking at you, but you didn't really care. The airport was busy, but it wasn't enough to make you pull your fingers from Bradley's soft hair or tell him to stop kissing his way back to your lips. His bristly mustache made you sigh when he reached his destination once again, and you let him taste your tongue before you pulled away slightly.

"Roo. We're kind of on a tight schedule." When he just grunted in response and headed for your lips again, you laughed. "Daddy! Let's go see the Nugget."

He seemed to snap out of it a little bit, the desire in his eyes giving way to excitement. "Right. Let's go. I can taste you everywhere at home later."

When he took you by the hand, you had to dig your heels in. "We need your bag!" you said with a smile. Then he led you in the opposite direction and snatched his massive duffle up like it was nothing and tossed it over his shoulder. You had to hustle along next to him as he exited the airport through the sliding doors and headed for the parking garage. It was like he knew you parked near the spot where he totaled your beloved little Honda when he finally got you pregnant on his birthday. You felt your cheeks grow warm as you recalled the details.

He must have seen his blue Bronco in the last row, because he picked up his pace a little bit more. "I don't think we have time for reunion sex yet," he muttered, glancing at you and letting his gaze dip down your body. "But I'll take care of you later. You got along okay without me?"

You let out a little squeak as he tossed his bag in the back and headed for the passenger side door so he could unlock it for you. "Honestly? I haven't been as insatiable since the first trimester ended," you told him, leaning closer to inhale the scent of his deodorant. "At least... I wasn't until right now."

He pulled you close again and tilted your chin up so you were looking at him. "Listen, I'm a little keyed up, and I don't think I can be quick. Can you wait until later?"

"Oh, God," you whined, your skin tingling at the thought of how long he might last for you and how good he would feel. "This is just as exciting as when I felt the baby moving on Halloween."

His brown eyes went wide, and his lips parted in surprise. "You felt the Nugget?!" When you nodded, he asked, "Why didn't you tell me before?"

You just gaped at him. "Seriously? You had your mouth all over mine! How was I supposed to tell you anything?"

"Shit," he hissed and handed you the keys before his hands settled on your belly, drifting around, trying to feel something. "You drive," he said, slowly guiding you to the other side of the Bronco. "I need to work on feeling a kick." 

As he buckled you in behind the wheel, you didn't have the heart to tell him that the baby wasn't even moving around much right now, or that it would probably be weeks before he'd be able to feel anything externally. He was too adorable when he was this excited, and you watched him run around the hood and jump inside like an overgrown golden retriever who had been offered a treat. His eyes were wide as he got himself buckled before placing both hands on your belly.

"Okay. I'm ready to go," he informed you with a nod.

"You sure?" you asked, smirking as you put the key in the ignition. "A minute ago, you looked like you were ready to have parking garage sex again, and now you're all over me and the Nugget."

You shifted into gear, and he whispered, "I'm ready, Baby Girl. I'm so fucking ready to learn what we're having, and if I feel a little kick on the way, it'll be like a cherry on top of the best day."

You paid the parking fee and pulled out onto the main road as you realized you only had about twenty minutes to get to Dr. Morris's office on time. "Don't get your hopes up," you said while Bradley felt you all over. "You probably won't be able to feel anything. It's still early for that."

"Hey, not to be rude, Sweetheart, but I'm actually going to need you to stop talking."

"What?" you asked, so startled you laughed a little bit. "Did you just ask me to be quiet?"

He kissed your cheek while you drove and whispered, "It's just that I can't tell if it's the vibrations from your voice or the baby moving. Please? I love you." Now you were laughing even harder as his big hands moved all around on you. "No, no, that's- see you're actually moving more when you laugh though." He kissed your cheek again as you rolled your eyes and smothered your laughter. "That's better."

When you pulled into the parking lot of the medical complex, your husband's fingers were stroking your belly gently, and when you parked again and looked at him, you saw a few tears in his eyes. "You okay?" you asked softly. 

"Yeah. I'm good. Like really fucking good."

--------------------------

Bradley was forever wondering when his luck would run out. His life just seemed too good to be true. He was holding hands with his hot, pregnant wife in the waiting room, just buzzing with excitement. In a few short minutes, he was going to find out if he was having a son or a daughter. He wondered if this was how his dad felt in 1984. He wondered if Nick Bradshaw ever wanted to randomly get on his knees for his wife for no reason.

"They called us," you whispered, kissing his cheek before you stood up. Bradley jumped to his feet as well, so deep in thought, he hadn't heard anything. He'd never admit it to you, but this was probably more exciting than the day the two of you got married.

He pressed his sweaty palm to yours and walked past the reception desk at your side. Three short hallways later, and a nurse led you into a large, dimly lit room with huge computer monitors on one wall. "I'm so fucking excited, I might pass out," he said, voice deep and raspy. 

The nurse eyed him cautiously. "Perhaps you should have a seat while Dr. Morris performs the scan?"

He nodded, intercepting the cotton gown before you could take it from her. "That's a great idea. I'll do that."

Once she was gone, Bradley turned to you and started unfolding the gown while you stepped out of your boat shoes. "Are you really going to pass out?" you asked him as you started to pull your sinfully snug dress up your legs.

"Let me do that," he grunted, kneeling on the floor and pushing the fabric up and over your belly. He kissed your tattoo through your underwear, and then he kissed the spot next to your belly button where he always imagined the Nugget was hanging out. "I love you," he whispered before getting to his feet again and pulling the dress up and over your head. You weren't wearing a bra, and your breasts looked so fucking incredible, he wanted them in his mouth.

"You're staring at me," you said, reaching for the gown as you shifted back and forth in place like you were getting cold. "I know I look different. I gained like eight or nine pounds while you were gone once I stopped throwing up all the time."

Bradley let you take the gown from his hands. "Jesus Christ, maybe I really should sit down," he muttered, dragging a chair over next to the table where you'd be sitting in a moment. "And I was just staring at your tits, Baby Girl. You don't look different, you look fucking hot pregnant. God, this is more exciting than when you let me fuck you in the ass."

And that was the exact moment when Dr. Morris entered the room and cleared her throat. "Lieutenant Bradshaw," she said, reaching out to shake his hand as he hovered awkwardly over the chair before standing up again. "It's so nice to have you back with us." You were cradling your head in your hand in embarrassment as he shook hands with your obstetrician.

"Dr. Morris," he murmured. "I only missed the last appointments, because I was deployed. There's nothing else that could have kept me away, I swear."

She laughed and looked between the two of you and said, "Well, we do like a supportive and adventurous partner."

"Roo," you groaned softly as you started to climb up on the table. Bradley turned to help you, and you let him.

"She's a doctor, Sweetheart," he whispered. "She's heard it all."

"That's true," Dr. Morris said as she washed her hands, and you gave Bradley a bland look as you settled back on the table which was bent at an angle that would let you see the monitors. He was so excited, he just kissed your forehead a bunch of times while Dr. Morris asked, "Are we ready to get started?"

"Yes!" he practically shouted while you responded in a much calmer tone. He eased himself down into the chair and looked up at you as he reached for your hand.

"This is it," you told him with a nervous smile. "Any final guesses?"

He shook his head, his attention drawn to the monitors as they came to life. "I don't care one way or the other. I just want to know everything I can about the Nugget." 

Then he took your hand in both of his bigger ones and brought your fingers up to his lips as you said, "Me, too."

Bradley's heart skipped around as Dr. Morris spread the warm gel on your belly, and he had to press his lips together to keep quiet. He'd imagined himself holding a son, and he'd imagined himself holding a daughter. He had thought about names he liked for both. He considered what wild colors he might one day paint the bedroom walls, and he looked forward to it. He thought he'd be good at being a basketball dad or a dance dad or a cheer dad or a soccer dad. And that's why it didn't really matter what Dr. Morris said today. It didn't really matter what his kid was into or not into, because the Nugget was going to be an extension of the two of you. Somehow that equated to perfection in his mind.

"Let's count some little toes," Dr. Morris said, and then Bradley squeezed your hand as two tiny feet appeared on the screen.

"Holy shit," he whispered. There were ten perfect toes on his perfect baby, and he had to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as you laughed softly in awe. The Nugget would be smart and confident just like you were. Bradley would get the attic taken care of, and he'd put together the jungle gym. He would do every single thing that needed to be done to make a perfect home for this child. He would take care of you every day right now until he was taking care of both of you.

"Now let's check on the fingers."

Ten tiny fingers, attached to the cutest baby he'd ever seen in his life. Bradley took a deep breath and let his forehead rest against your arm as he tried to get himself under control. "Oh my God," he whispered, knowing he'd be able to count those toes and fingers in person next year. He could tickle them and send piggies to the market. He could kiss them and watch them toddle across the living room floor after Tramp.

"Let's just get a look at the heartbeat and a few other things here." Dr. Morris was taking her time, which Bradley appreciated. He liked a thorough doctor, but the anticipation was killing him. 

The heartbeat on the screen had you mesmerized when he looked at your beautiful face, but then you turned to look at him. Once again, he had no idea how he ended up this lucky. "I love you, Roo."

His already blurry vision just got worse as he sucked in a deep breath. "I love you so much." 

This time you brought his fingers up to your lips and kissed him as Dr. Morris added a little more gel to your belly and smashed it down with the ultrasound paddle. "Are you sure you want to find out the sex?"

"Yes!" you said, smiling at Bradley like you fucking knew you were his whole world. Like you didn't mind sharing him with the Nugget from now on. "We want to know!"

Bradley watched your face as you watched the monitor. His fingers on your wrist told him your heart was racing just like his was, and you were licking your lips in anticipation. You were perfect. His life was perfect. His baby was going to follow suit, no doubt about that. A smile found its way to his lips, and his shoulders relaxed, knowing that the next words he heard were going to be perfect, too. How could they not be?

"Congratulations. It's a girl."

The feeling inside his body was something he never knew before. He felt as much love as he had when he listened to you read your wedding vows, but this was something more. He was going to have a perfect little girl. Tears filled his eyes as he realized he was going to get to love and take responsibility for raising a daughter.

"Roo!" you sobbed, reaching for him, and then he was on his feet and kissing you.

"A girl," he said even as he mashed his lips to yours. "A daughter."

He wasn't sure if he felt his own tears or yours on his cheeks as you pressed your forehead to his and asked, "Are you happy?"

It took him a few seconds to get control of his voice as he held your face in his hands. "I'm living the life of my dreams."

-------------------------

Bradley had tears in his eyes and ultrasound images clutched to his chest as you led him outside to the Bronco. His free hand was clasped tight with yours, and you'd never seen him look so happy in your life. "A little girl," he said, handing you his keys once again, and you already knew what he was going to do when he buckled you into the driver's seat. "We're having a girl," he whispered, brown eyes wide as he kissed your wedding rings.

You nodded and wiped your thumb along his cheek. "It just makes sense somehow."

"It does," he agreed, kissing your lips before leaning down to kiss your bump through your dress. "I love this Nugget," he whispered. "My daughter."

You whined his name as he said those words, and when he looked up at you, all you could say was, "You're going to be the best Daddy, Roo." You thought about it all the time. The way he'd carry the baby around and read bedtime stories. The way he'd always be patient and sweet. You weren't sure if you'd always imagined a little girl or not, but it made so much sense right now.

"Let's go home," he rasped, kissing his way up from your belly until he got to your tender breasts. Technically you were supposed to work this afternoon, at least that's what you'd told Bickel. As Bradley ran around to the passenger side, you dug your phone out and texted your boss, letting him know that the baby was fine, and you'd see him on Monday. 

"What's wrong?" Bradley asked as you tossed your phone aside and started the engine.

"Nothing. Everything is right. I'm taking the rest of the day off so we can spend it together," you replied softly as his hands found their way back to your belly. It had been too many weeks since you'd been touched, and it felt so good, you had to press your lips together to keep from moaning. "I want to spend it with you."

He grunted and kissed the side of your neck as you pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm not letting my girls out of my sight all weekend."

"Bradley," you whined, feeling so much desire for him. The two of you could start talking about nursery decor and girl names and when you wanted to break the news to everyone else. You could do all of those things this weekend now that he was home. But you were also just needy for him.

You made a little noise as you tried your best to go the speed limit, and you knew that your husband knew what you needed. "I'll take care of you, Sweetheart. Don't worry about that. I'll take care of everything." 

He was tracing hearts along your belly, and you turned to look at his slightly lovesick eyes when you stopped at an intersection. "I know you will." You delighted in the fact that you were having a little girl who would get to share all of his love with you. The enormity of Bradley's affection seemed to grow every day now, just like the Nugget, and pretty soon she would be showered in it too.

When you pulled into the driveway and parked in the tight spot next to your red Bronco, Bradley eyed the pallets of jungle gym pieces. "I can't fucking wait to build that thing. I've been dreaming about it for so long." Then he was jumping out the door as you shifted into park, and he was around to your side in an instant. "Been dreaming about this day for ages," he whispered as you climbed down and into his arms. His hands found your lower back as he added, "Been thinking about you and the Nugget since I left."

You smiled up at him. "You know what might be fun, Daddy?"

"What?" he asked, keeping his eyes on yours as he started to lead you up to the porch.

"If you start building the Nugget's playset tomorrow, and you get all sweaty and let me watch," you said, your voice turning into a soft whimper at the end. 

Bradley jammed the house key into the lock, and shoved the door open. He hooked one arm around your waist and pulled you inside with him as Tramp started jumping around like a maniac. "Hey, buddy," Bradley told him with a smile. "I missed you, too. But I need some time with my girls first."

"It's okay," you said as you closed the door behind you. "He probably won't calm down until you play with him a little bit."

But Bradley was pushing you back against the door even as Tramp ran around in circles. "Wait right here," he commanded softly, and lust rippled through you at the sight of his pupils blown wide. "Don't move an inch." 

You felt like you were barely even breathing as you stood very still and watched Bradley lead Tramp past the piano and out the back sliding glass door. "I promise I'll play with you next. I just desperately need to fuck my wife." Then he made his way back to you, his lips set in a determined smirk, and his movements beyond sexy. "I promised I wouldn't leave you hanging."

You closed your eyes as his palm came to rest on the wooden door just next to your head. His warmth was so close, but he wasn't touching you yet as you whispered, "You always take care of me."

His fingers started to pull up the hem of your dress as he crooned, "Why don't you go ahead and tell me how much you missed me."

You tipped your head back until it met the door, and you kept your eyes squeezed closed as you whined, "Couldn't go another day without you." When his lips met your cleavage, your eyes flew open. His lips grazed your nipple through the thin fabric as he slowly knelt in front of you, and you told him, "Your daughter and I missed you terribly."

When he looked up at your face, he pulled your dress up and said, "I'm so in love with you." He ran his lips along your bare belly. "And you." Then he pressed the bunched up fabric against your ribs, and when he said, "Hold this for me, Baby Girl," you did exactly as you were told.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Fuck," he grunted, rough hands on your thighs as he kissed your belly button. "Do you have any idea how perfect you are?" His eyes met yours again. "You asked me if I was happy. I've been happy since I met you. Since you gave me a purpose. Since you let me love you." His hands found the scrap of your white lace underwear and started to pull it down your thighs. "God, I missed this," he murmured, pressing his lips to your pussy as soon as you were free of the lace which slipped all the way down until your panties hit your boat shoes.

"Bradley," you croaked, the second syllable sounding much longer than the first as he licked his way up your slit to the patch of hair that you kept neatly trimmed. He licked along this same path again, this time pressing deeper with his tongue. The third time, he separated you a little more, and then he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked gently. All the while he kept his big hands on the swell of your belly. "I really missed you."

He responded by kissing your dainty rooster tattoo and burying his face in your pussy. Bradley gently nudged your legs further apart so he could taste you everywhere, and each time you started to buck, he pushed your hips back. You were gripping your dress so tight in both hands, you were afraid you might rip the fabric, but he just kept going in a smooth up and down stripe until you could tell you were dripping wet.

"Yeah, you missed me," he grunted, kissing your tattoo one more time. "I can taste how much."

"Roo."

He got to his feet and cupped your pussy below the swell of your belly, circling your opening with the tip of one finger as he leaned in close. "Will you let me take you to bed and show you how much I missed you?"

Your voice shook as he pushed his finger inside you, just a promise of what was to come if you agreed. "Please!"

Barely ten seconds later, you were on your back in bed, your dress pushed all the way up, exposing your breasts and belly to him. Your soaked pussy was already clenching as the cool air hit your skin, and you watched Bradley wrench his shirt off and unzip his pants. But he didn't penetrate you yet. He pushed on the backs of your thighs so your knees got a little closer to your shoulders, and you whimpered his name.

His eyes were a little wild as he said, "Yeah, I'll take care of everything, Sweetheart." Bradley wrapped his hands around your thighs and leaned down to kiss at your furled nipples, his mustache leaving you squirming, searching for release. "Your fucking tits are huge. My God. And so warm." 

He nuzzled himself against your breasts which were in fact getting to the point where your bras were fitting a little too tight. He sucked and swiped his tongue along, and you let your fingers sink into his hair as he brought you close with his mouth wrapped around one nipple then the other. "Oh my God," you panted, just spurring him on. Because next, his mouth trailed back down to your belly where he whispered and worshipped you.

"I love my girls," he crooned, spreading your legs open wider as you tugged on his hair to keep yourself grounded. "I love you so much."

"Please," you begged softly, and he finally put that mouth back on your soaking wet core. You were about to come, grinding against his lips and his nose, his name falling from you like a depraved prayer. Eventually he paused before filling you with his cock instead. You cried out as he stretched you fully for the first time in so long, and almost immediately he was fucking you to completion. You came hard, your back arching off the bed as you grabbed at his shoulders, but you knew he wanted his share, too.

Bradley fucked you through your orgasm, lips pressed to your ear so you could hear every word he said and every deep rumble at the back of his throat. "You were made for me, weren't you, Baby Girl? And I was made to worship you."

-------------------------

By the time Bradley came, he was sweaty and babbling like a lovesick idiot. Everything he cared about most was right there in his arms as you took him deep, always welcoming him into your sweetness. The relief he felt was incredible as he finally rolled onto his back, pulling you a little closer as he went.

"I'm gonna be a girl dad," he said with a smile as he looked at the ceiling through his post orgasm haze. "I can't wait."

The slick friction from his cum teased at his leg hairs as your pussy rested against his thigh, and you snuggled up against his chest. "Me too, Roo. I'm so excited to meet her." 

Your fingers teased along his abs, lulling him ever closer to an afternoon nap. He knew that one of you needed to let Tramp back inside, and he was going to have to scrape together something for you to eat soon. But right now, he didn't want to move.

"What happened with your deployment?" you asked softly as he yawned. This was the last thing he wanted to talk about right now when he knew you were carrying his little girl, but he should have known you'd have questions. 

"It fucking sucked. Being away from you gets harder and harder each time now. They kept tacking on more weeks of these random bombing runs, and the weather was miserable. We had to fly in the rain half the time."

He listened to you hum, contemplating what he said. "It was so scary when you got called to action in the middle of talking to me over FaceTime. I couldn't stop crying. And then it was weeks before some random guy in personnel called me to let me know you were on your way home."

It was hard to believe he was on that flight back to San Diego just a few hours ago. "Honestly, in all of the excitement today, that already feels so distant in my mind," he told you, kissing your forehead as he thought about how long he had been away from you. "We didn't really know we were heading home until it was happening. And it was so late here when we got released, they told me they'd have someone reach out so I didn't have to wake you up again. Then there was only one seat left on the first flight home, and once Payback and I were being airlifted to Hong Kong, they told us to decide who was taking that spot. He gave it to me, no questions asked. Told me to get home to you and the Nugget."

You gasped and murmured, "Reuben is the sweetest."

Bradley chuckled as his fingers grazed along the side of your bump. "Yeah, well, you actually owe him three dozen chocolate chip cookies. That was the only stipulation for the deal."

Your laughter made Bradley's smile grow. "Totally worth it. Actually, since you made it home in time for my appointment, I'll make five dozen for him."

"No wonder everyone thinks I'm spoiled," he told you, tugging on you until you were straddling his hips and looking down at him with your hands braced on his chest. "Fuck. Just look at you." 

His sticky cum was matted in your pubic hair, and your tits looked delicious. There was no way he'd be able to keep his hands away from you now that he'd seen and felt your little bump in person. His daughter was growing in there. He smiled and ran his palm gently over your skin, stroking you with his thumb as your pretty gaze stayed transfixed on his.

"I'm happy you're home, Roo."

He nodded, eye lids growing heavy from jet lag and the time zones, and he simply didn't argue when you kissed his cheek and said you were going to let Tramp inside and then take a nap with him. Soon enough, Bradley was snuggled up in bed with his head resting next to your belly and your fingers tangled in his hair. Your sweet voice lulled him to sleep for the best afternoon nap of his life.

----------------------------

This has been a very emotional day for Bradley. He's home with his hot wife, and now he gets to start planning for the arrival of their daughter in a few more months! Thank you so much for reading about the Nugget! More to come soon, including the first wedding anniversary! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[sadtonight]

Kissing you, kissing you, kissing you, kissing you-

Summary: you kissed him in more ways that he could imagine and more times he could count. But he had his preferences in kissing of course, reaching cloud nine when you did his favourite types~

Characters: Riddle, Vil, Epel, Idia, Lilia;

Warnings: none, lots of kissing, a bit spicy, reader is gender neutral, established romantic relationships;

Side notes: ehrehehheehehhejeje. *kicking my feet in the air and rolling around* them :))

Riddle

— it was no wonder red haired boy felt conflicted towards physical intimacy, let alone romantic one. His mother was opposed to any close relationships, stating that it was a waste of time and effort, drilling this notion into Riddle's mind ever since he showed the smallest interest in the matter;

— those teaching went straight out the window the moment you two officially became a couple. Even with confirmed reciprocated feelings Riddle's heart couldn't find peace for a long while: he viewed your relationship with apprehension, as something he wasn't supposed to have, dread replacing warmness in his limbs with biting cold when his mind travelled back to his mother's words;

— but his friends, and especially you — his partner, were there to make all the doubts evaporate. He was afraid of sharing his worries with you, and yet your fingers always brushed against his soft cheek and temple to fold his red bang behind his ear. Riddle was already past the point of getting as red as a rose unlike in the first instances, however his heart always responded to the smallest of your actions;

— that's why your hand was always on his uniform where his heart was beating: to cleanse the bristly pain he felt, to turn it into pleasant ache of fondness. You gently brushed his red fringe behind and planted a few short but sweet kisses on his exposed forehead, in between them promising that everything would be okay, that you would always love him despite anything and that you were always there to support him in whatever way he needed. You rubbed his soft hands, free of black gloves, with your thumb, then raised them to your lips and tenderly kissed his old scars left from ruthless study sessions he had been enduring in his childhood;

— Riddle's body trembled under your touch, he was trying hard not to break down crying but couldn't stop himself from shivering, so good it felt to be truly adorated by someone like that. The boy wanted his gratitude to be acknowledged, so people would know for a fact that Riddle Rosehearts was indeed deeply in love with you. Bit by bit, he worked on his fear, not being afraid anymore of kissing your cheek when you passed though the college halls or not getting embarrassed after he licked off dessert cream on the side of your mouth during an Unbirthday party, stunning everyone including you.

Vil

— the tall male carried himself with up most grace and elegance that no living person could replicate, like a phantasm of a fairy tail or a piece of art itself. His stoic, chilly, proud yet magnifying exterior made some people look up and gravitate towards him, and some to have a disdain of varying degrees. What both sides agreed on was the fact that Vil Schoenheit was akin to royalty — like a beautiful queen to be precise;

�� so imagine getting to see the following scene: glorious male dressed in the Pomefiore uniform, flawlessly braided hair and applied makeup, going about his day until all of the sudden a person is spotted running into Vil's arms. And to everyone's shock Vil doesn't move to the side or shy away from the touch, no, on the contrary wraps his arms around the body that collided with his and plants a gentle peck to the person's cheekbone, leaving tiny purple mark;

— in Vil's opinion there was absolutely nothing odd or disgraceful in public display of affection. It's his partner after all, whom he very much loves if you couldn't tell. Naturally, he would not straight up make out with you, for one — the act most likely would ruin his makeup, and for two — he prefers to keep more heated... closeness in privacy, unless beautiful male must teach someone a lesson;

— Vil is well versed in kissing department, and every kiss he initiates is bounded to be amazing. You are a bit envious of how he could leave you breathless and with face as hot as flames, yet he seems almost unaffected by the make out session he was leading, only wearing complacent smile;

— if you do wish to turn the tables and leave Vil stripped of his perfect exterior, you need to break free from the kiss. But not just that: when the male thinks he has got you in his grasp, cup his face with your hands and take a few moments to admire him: his half lidded amethyst eyes, his slightly tinted in pink dust cheeks, his puffy lips which are still coated in expensive lipstick that is hard to smear and overall warmth you feel under your palms. Whisper audible lovely words under your breath, call him the most beautiful boy you have ever laid your eyes on, and capture his lips with yours before Vil can respond. By doing so, you are guaranteed to have a flustered Vil Schoenheit, the sight only he lets you behold.

Epel

— growing up in the village, Epel's outward experience of kissing didn't leave the ideal image in mind: old couples kissing accompanied with the nausea inducing noises or when different women figures gave him a wet smooches on his plush face. Ew, no, the boy couldn't shake this awful feeling even after reading countless romance books and manga where characters frequently exchanged kisses;

— it all changed when you appeared in his life. Suddenly, Epel really wants to kiss, very badly, to the point of him demanding kisses after you two have become a couple, chasing your lips with his eyes and trying to communicate with glances the desire to connect your mouthes just for few seconds;

— if you decide to humor him by pecking his lips, face or head — the boy will pout and sulk until you "properly kiss" him. Epel doesn't mind kissing, just not the light childish kisses: he enjoys them, yes, but it makes him feel small and frail, like you don't treat him like a man he actually was trying to be. Though the boy barely could hold candle to what he believed as in the end he crumbled under any heavy kissing, despite mentally challenging himself to be dominant for once;

— it was already hard for him due to how infuriating small he was: if you are considerably taller than Epel, he must tiptoe to reach your face, so you need to hold his waist else he might topple onto your body in the momentum. Don't tease him though, unless you want to be grabbed by a neck tie or other item and tugged down to his level;

— but do not take Epel for granted, if he is in the right state of mind, you better be prepared to face an embodiment of passion itself! Like when he completed hard assignment everybody believed he wouldn't pull off, or when he scored the last point in favour of his team during Spelldrive practice, Epel without a fail would rush to you to get his anticipated trophy kiss;

— lavender haired boy kissed in a peculiar manner: he is still young and yet to learn how to correctly line up his face to yours without bumping into you. Or when to open his mouth and add his tongue, it was very cute when he tried to replicate the scenes he saw in manga panels without understand how kissing actually worked. You had to do most of adjusting, parting away and guiding Epel's eager lips to the right places. He wanted to do everything himself, so he often lightly tugged at your hair, earning a chuckle from you. He was adorable, and he knew that, making muffled groaning sounds of protests into the kiss.

Idia

— listen, Idia was pleased with how loving you were with him: you had patience of a saint and gave him breathers when he needed them, got interested in things he was currently into unprompted but most importantly, you were the more physical one out of the two;

— blue flamed male had hard time making advances, he got lucky in romantic relationship gatcha but it meant that now he must keep said status afloat. At first, Idia was incredibly stiff and awkward when he hugged you, like he was trying to hug a tree and not the love of his life, not to mention.... kissing;

— Idia didn't like kissing, he had to push his mouth together and close his eyes and somehow end up touching your lips with his? And for it to feel nice for both parties?? Replaying one of the toughest games he has ever played on the nightmare difficulty didn't sound as hard as that! His restless mind up kept flashing mental images of how stupid his face might be looking like, further turning the male away from taking initiative in kissing, only interacting when you made advances;

— now hugs and cuddles were another story. It was very endearing: while you both spooned on his messy bed, exchanging warmth, he would often nuzzle into your body as a way of replacing kisses. You absentmindedly played with his blue fiery locks, your thoughts wandering to the rare times when Idia uncharacteristically was great at kissing;

— it always happened in his room, late at night, when you couldn't stay up anymore but really wanted to be with him. You wearily placed your head on his lanky shoulder and continued to play. Idia, on the other hand, paused the game and started saying something you could barely make out due to your drowsy state. Until all of the sudden he raised your chin up and locked his blue lips with yours. The kiss was long and unhurried, Idia even inserted his tounge into the kiss near the end. But before you could fully wake up, he parted, licking his mouth clean of saliva and commanded you to go to sleep already, adding that he would join in a minute after he was finished with the level;

— back to the present, you made up your mind, rolling out from Idia body and crawled on top of him. He was about to question your actions until you lifted up his stripped t-shirt and stated to pepper his chest and torso with light, butterfly pecks, making him stutter the rest of the question, hair instantly turning few shades rosier. W-what was that all about? Do you want him to have a heart attack?? Idia wanted to cover his face with his hands so badly, but instead managed to place them on your back, inviting you in rather than pushing you away. This kissing ambush was extremely effective... now he kinda wanted to kiss you like that too...

Lilia

— kissing? Sign him in! Lilia enjoyed giving, recieving, describing and prescribing kisses left and right. Platonic or romantic didn't really matter, it's the thought behind the act that did;

— now he pecked your face long before you two got together to see your reaction. Then, when you finally got into the relationship, the fae gave smooches and bunny kisses all the time, never seemingly treating kissing seriously, always finishing with a loud "muah!". From the side, it resembled a cat playing with a mouse rather than two lovers putting their affection into physical boundaries;

— as your relationship progressed, however, you begun noticing changes in Lilia's behaviour. Kisses become more stable, focused and needy: his hands were no longer merely holding your face or hands. Now they messed up the hair on your head, wrapped around your neck, curled around your waist and somehow found their way underneath your clothes. The short male was bold enough to either push your body to his or press his to yours, which you never expected given his innocent, cute exterior he masterful crafted to deceive pretty, gullible people like you;

— it came to a point where Lilia was increasingly getting hungrier and hungrier with kisses, turning even the most innocuous pecks into full-blown make out session and never caring where they took place. The bat didn't restrain himself like he used to, trailing from your lips down to your neck and collarbone to plant as many marks as he could. What he did there was a pure chaos: Lilia kissed, nibbled, bit, sucked and licked your poor flash like you were a flesh tomato slice or some glorified candy!

— no use confronting the male, he would giggle and say that he couldn't resist, or he would make teary eyes and proclaim his "genuine" remorse which was in no shape or form genuine. He left you in a hot mess, sweaty and mind blank with hickeys which were still aching by the way (!), trapping you in tight embraces for a while until he was sure you were okay;

— Lilia will never let you win, unless you give him the taste of his own medicine. Do a surprise attack: drag him into the nearest empty room and go for his pale, pristine skin just like he does to you. He has a gull to chuckle and tease you for now, not until you find his weak spots and make him eat his words, forcing his knees to buckle under your influence and hands grasp your attire.

[knight-a3]

Hazbin Sketchbook Tour part 1

Masterpost

So if it isn't obvious, Alastor is my favorite. If any sketches are left uninked, it's most likely because I didn't like it enough to take a pen to it. The paper wasn't good enough quality to even do shades of grey without it bleeding through, so I had to stick with black and white.

Commentary under the cut.

When I started this, I wanted to redesign Alastor. First order of business: get rid of his weird Karen bob cut. I have this headcanon that his hair is actually more like the fur from a deer's coat rather than actual hair. Which (if it's at all similar to the goats, horses, and elk I've felt) is NOT soft and fluffy like fans like to theorize. It's rather rough and bristly. Like a wire-haired dog. He can't exactly style it like normal hair, but he likes to keep it trimmed short on the lower portions, closer to the styles he would have preferred in life.

Next, the bowtie had to go. Too many of the characters have them, so I made it my mission to get rid of as many as possible. There are only a couple that I let keep theirs. Regular ties were far more common in his lifetime.

I don't actually like his monocle either. For one, they are not meant to be worn all the time. They are meant for short periods of time when spectacles were inconvenient to carry around. It's like reading glasses, but pocket-sized. He wouldn't be wearing it very often. Plus, they would have been starting to go out of fashion in his time, in part due to an association with Germans(whose military officers were particularly fond of them. Then Germany was blamed for WW1). Not that he'd really care about that though.

Alastor has a lot of themes and motifs in his design, and I didn't find the cross shaped design on his shirt to be iconic enough to keep. Overall, I wanted to tone down and balance his design. The most important elements to his design are: deer, smile, and radio.

I eventually come back to tweak his hair and antlers, but that isn't for a while.

For Niffty, I wasn't yet at a stage where I was redesigning her at all. I just drew her, then would eventually find aspects I want to alter. But I'll explain when I get there.

[reallifetangent]

Realization 1.0 (Cat King x Edwin)

I really tried writing something, this is one of the two attempts. English is not my main language, and I also have to translate Ir(me) → Spanish → English → Making Sense in English. I didn't actually finish this one, so, have this draft. Sorry if it disappoints.

---------

Based on the idea of How did Cat King react when he got back the bracelet. Technically is a One Sided Catwin, happens in the events of the series.

---------

"Hm?" A surprise sound between a purr and a question got stuck in his lips, seeing how in his characteristical flames, a cat shaped bracelet appeared in front of his bed. Just waking from the heartbreak of the last night, tired after scan the forest and each tree, Cat King (or Thomas for friends or Fandom) looked at the metallic enchanted piece. Didn't have to get closer, but yet he did. He could recognized that ghostly faded smell, and he was shocked and out of his mind when finally picked it up. Tried to think it was just an illusion, a bad taste joke about it.

"How did he do that?" He was both amazed and hurt. How come a ghost, a simple yet fascinating ghost boy hexed his handcuff, his attachment to this town, to his kingdom. Maybe he counted all the cats. "No. The spell only works if I undo it. That's the charm of this charm." Edwin was resourceful, but he couldn't find anything at Tragic Mick's. His cats around town and his own knowledge knew that no trinket from that haunted store could help them. Otherwise, Edwin, his aggressive pal and that psychic girl would've left the country as soon as they got out of his Majesty's Deck.

His small game of cat and mouse was gone, and he didn't even say goodbye. That was hurting. A well mannered gentleman like Edwin could never leave without a word, even if they didn't like it, his manners and old fashioned ways were stronger than his pride sometimes. That was attractive. He liked that correct and straight up part of him (not the straight part. Edwin has none.) The way Edwin fancily rejected and asked to take it off the first time, the panics and educated rejects at his touch. Maybe last night he was a bit rough telling him that they were only there because of that bracelet, nothing else. But Gods from heaven and hell, that was so ho-

"Heaven and hell." His sliced eyes opened wider, seeing every little part of the handcuff, the hits and tries of forcing the lock. The faded particles of a burnt wall. Thomas knew he was powerful, but not above any of the Primordial Gods, The Endless, Lilith. Even with his 9 lives, he wasn't above Death. And thought that those Dead Boy Detectives couldn't get struggling with her. Sneaky, one step ahead, 30 years running from her. Thomas liked that. Defying. But back to his thoughts, he finally felt that sting.

Edwin Payne had been claimed back to hell. Some cats told there was a creepy woman looking for them, about to "Get them back where they belong". Edwin's cleverness wasn't enough to escape her? Well, now was late to help him.

"Sir, we are... Troubled to inform you-" a grey old cat approached their king.

"I know, I know. That little dead boy has been departed to another jurisdiction. I... Got the message." He sighed, spinning in his fingers the metal piece.

"Worse, my Lord. The crazy nurse woman was there, yes. But something worse." Even the cat got goosebumps, their back hairs bristly. "She wasn't even aware. A demonic... thing... took him and dragged him to hell."

[sighonaraa]

Thinking about 'the ending where you finally find your way home'. Thinking about Jamie living with Sam and Dani. Thinking about Big Ben and Jude. Thinking about how 23 year old Jamie being smuggled home by Sam and Dani, handed a cat, and them telling him that the cat is his, actually.

Thinking about this bristly kid with the world on his shoulders and his hands stuffed in his pockets to hide the shaking, and a cat twining around his ankles purring up a storm. And a dog with a big square head and a wagging tale who's happy to see him.

Thinking about the way he shrivels under the hopeful attention of Sam and Dani. The way he cautiously holds his hand out to let Jude sniff it.

Thinking about this painfully younger Jamie muttering, "Wasn't allowed to have any pets growing up."

Thinking about the way Dani and Sam's faces fall, because they already know that. And they know why.

They were so excited to offer him everything he loves, everything that's his to love, that they'd forgotten how once upon a time he wasn't allowed to love at all.

(and then Dani has to make up a lie about how no, actually, the dog is technically his (incorrect; everyone is everyone's, but baby steps) but no Jude always sleeps with Jamie and so does the cat. Yep.)

yes. yes! YES!!!!! YEESSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i think about this all thee time as WELL.

Jamie lingered on the last porch step while Sam unlocked the front door, hands twisted into the hem of his shirt, grateful that Dani was ahead of him in case he needed to run. He could be fast, he knew he could. Neither of them’d be able to catch up. He’d run, and run, and run until his skeleton fled its body and there was nothing left to go back to.

But the door swung open, and something—something within him, some bone-deep instinct, stopped him from bolting. Maybe it was the way the flowers in the window boxes were blooming, full-petaled and bright. Maybe it was the way there was already light spilling out onto the pavement from inside the house, like it had been waiting for them. Maybe it was the way Sam and Dani were looking at him, all soft and stupid, as if they couldn’t imagine spending their night doing anything except this.

And then Jamie didn’t have a chance to decide what it was, ’cause there was a sudden flurry of movement and a massive dog was leaping into Dani’s arms and licking him all over the face. His heart skipped a quick beat before settling, certain for a moment that the shadow he’d glimpsed had been someone else’s, and his fingers loosened around his shirt.

“Jude!” Dani was scolding, even as he laughed and puddled into the porch with a lapful of slobbering dog. “You’re not supposed to run out like that, mi amigo. Very dangerous.”

“We’ve tried to explain it to him via a Powerpoint presentation,” said Sam to—to Jamie, which was strange. “It didn’t take, for some reason.”

Jamie scoffed. “Yeah, no shit, mate.” He flinched immediately, remembering again that this wasn’t his Sam, that this was another Sam who was older and taller and could most certainly take him to the ground if he wanted to. He imagined the impact of flesh on flesh; the crimson flash of pain; his body scattered on the floor and the door to the house shut and the light vanishing as fast as it had arrived.

But Sam only lifted one shoulder in a shrug and said, “It was your idea.”

“It was!” Dani said cheerfully, though he looked a bit sad at the edges. His fingers ran along the dog’s—Jude’s—ears in nervous, frenetic motion. “We could show it to you, if you want.”

“I—” Jamie swallowed. I need to call me da. It was what he wanted to say, yet couldn’t. He already knew how they would respond. And until he figured out what the fuck was going on and how he could get everything to go back to normal, he’d just have to keep his mouth shut and his head down. He wouldn’t do anything that would make them upset. He’d gotten lucky thus far, but it wouldn’t last. The anger always came, eventually. “Sure. Yeah, I s’pose we could.”

“Excellent,” said Dani. He seemed to mean it, though Jamie couldn’t trust that he really was. “Until then, this is Jude. Jude, this is Jamie. You remember Jamie?”

’Course Jude wouldn’t fucking remember Jamie. He tensed as the dog’s head swiveled towards him, those big brown eyes wide and limpid in the late light. His body prepared itself for the low growl, the biting snap.

Except Jude’s tail began to wag, fiercer than before, and he crawled from Dani’s lap and loped in Jamie’s direction. His big boxy head bobbed in time with his strides, and then it bumped into Jamie’s knuckles, hidden still by the fabric of his shirt.

Jamie’s breath caught. His fingers crept out, and Jude’s nose nudged them, damp and cold. “Hi,” he whispered, shamefully aware of Dani and Sam watching them. “Hi, Jude. Nice to meet you. You’re a good boy, eh?”

“He is,” said Sam, quietly. “And he loves you very much, Jamie.”

“Mm,” said Jamie. He dared to scratch behind one of Jude’s floppy ears and was rewarded with an enthusiastic full-body wiggle. “I ain’t ever had a pet before.”

The glance that Sam and Dani exchanged was fleeting, but Jamie caught it all the same. His cheeks went high with heat, hating the fact that they knew so much about him while he knew next to nothing about them. He was exposed, vulnerable. His heart had been pried out of its chest and now lay on the table, ready to be dissected, unable to be put back where it belonged. He rubbed Jude beneath the chin to scrub the sensation away.

“It’s all right,” Dani said, at last. There was a gentle quality to his voice that inclined Jamie to believe him, although he didn’t want to. “You have two, now.”

Hang on.

“I have what—”

[mvshortcut]

Ranking every time the Ten Men get taken down by how cringe fail they are (Part 1)

With 1 being "not too lame, actually" and 10 being "oh my god I have to put the book down and walk away for my own health." This post will include scenes from Books 2 and 3; I'll put the Riddle of Ages stuff in another post.

"But Milk, why on earth are you doing this" well you see I hate the Ten Men (<3) and I love to talk so this works out perfectly. Listen To My Opinions, Boy. Let's get started, shall we?

Book 2: The Perilous Journey

See Garrotte is like the Reynie Muldoon of the Ten Men in that he's so fantastically average (this is a joke don't come for me y'all I love Reynie). This is just a very Average way to get knocked out tbh. And honestly, I've gotta cut Garrotte some slack here. When you think you're on a deserted island, you don't really expect some scarecrow-looking ninja to materialize out of the darkness, hijack your tank boat, and knock you out. 2/10

Crawlings. Oh, darling Crawlings. I'm making the rule now that Crawlings can't score below a 3. He has a base level of cringe fail-ness simply by being Crawlings.

Out of all of the times Crawlings gets knocked out, this is honestly the least embarrassing. None of them really know Milligan's capabilities yet, so this sleight of hand is completely unexpected. Although the "As ugly as you?" exchange occurs immediately after Crawlings wakes up from this one (and that scene in and of itself is embarrassing.) 5/10

Now Sharpe and Crawlings get knocked out (again) later in TPJ but that happens offscreen, so without further ado, let's move onto:

Book 3: The Prisoner's Dilemma

Starting this one off strong with another Crawlings MomentTM. I know he doesn't get knocked out here but I literally could not in good conscience leave it out. Peak cringe fail. Local murderous henchman loses to a four year old with sharp teeth, more at 11. 7/10

I'm gonna be honest at least 70% of this post is gonna be Crawlings. But that isn't my fault now is it?

This is just. Peak Looney Tunes shenanigans. I'm surprised he didn't leave a cartoony indent of his limbs outstretched in the wall. The "humiliating yelp" adds ambiance to the whole scene. 8/10

and another one! honestly this is more impressive on Milligan's part (truly he is insane) and once again, I'm gonna give Crawlings some pity points because who expects their opponent to straight-up grab the electrified wires? The image of his eyebrow all bristly and shocked is very comical and undignified though. 5/10

Back to dear Garrotte. once again painfully average. I desperately need to know if Milligan actually hit him over the head with a ukulele. 2/10

Sharpe coming in strong with possibly the most embarrassing knockout yet. It wasn't enough to be taken down by a boomerang, of all things. He's gotta do these popping-up-and-down shenanigans before a twelve-year-old finally tricks him into knocking himself out with his own handkerchief. I imagine he looks like one of those inflatable dancing tube man things outside the car wash just flopping back and forth. 9/10

When I tell you I literally cheer ever time I read this part. It's what he deserves. "But, honestly, would you fare any better against a bird of prey, Milk?" yes. absolutely. Madge would sense my cool and swag vibes and would not attack me. McCracken simply did not pass the vibe check. SAD. 8/10

Y'know I wish this part wasn't phrased so comically because I burst out laughing ever time I read it even though it's such a tense and upsetting moment. This is SO embarrassing for McCracken though. Imagine at long last winning a tumultuous rooftop battle and it looks like things are FINALLY starting to go your way. only for your opponent to fling himself off a four story building directly on top of you and break all your bones. oof. there's no coming back from that one chief. once again he gets pity points because Milligan is absolutely insane and no one could have seen that coming. 8/10

And, for the grand finale, a guest appearance from Hertz! I would say we're switching things up with a little vehicular manslaughter here, but it isn't Number Two's fault that Hertz ran into her fake ambulance, now is it? It was quite a Choice for him to think he could win a fight against two vehicles, let alone vehicles driven by Rhonda Kazembe and Number Two. "He was terribly annoyed" yea I bet he was. Hertz darling what were you thinking. 6/10

part 2 here!

[masleys]

with : @maudestia location : the masley household ; peter's bedroom ; the space separating peter & hestia's childhood windows when : 0032 on an early spring thursday

PERHAPS HE WAS CURSED. that's what this was, wasn't it ? cursed, doomed to spend each insomnia-ridden night staring at the window once home to his favorite ghost. his greatest loss, his greatest what-if, his greatest mystery. doomed to relive the years of his past and all the things he might have done wrong or could have done better, all the feelings he pushed down, further and further, until they had no place to go except into his consciousness. all because of some fucking window. there were days peter wanted to knock on the wooden pane of the house next door, just to see who would answer. there were days he wanted to smash a rock through her window, just to watch the glass shatter. there were days he wished for selective amnesia — just enough to fade her memory. none of it would be of any use. she'd moved on from lincoln city long ago. when he sat in his bedroom for too long, it was no longer hestia he saw walking out the front entryway. it was blurred faces, new features each week. some with long, blonde, flowing locks. others with short bobs, brunet mullets, and bristly mustaches. despite these distinctions, they were all the same shadowy figures, none of which he recognized. figures who nudged open the front door he helped paint, whose shoes padded on hardwood floors with baseboards scuffed up by his sneakers, whose hands edged along corridor walls stamped generously with his fingerprints. there was endless evidence of his existence within the tabanao household, and yet, no one within those walls knew it anymore. hestia was gone, her parents were gone. peter only had left the bones of something soulless. it's on an exceptionally sleepless night that this changes. a sudden flicker of light in the darkness across the glass pane of his window, a soft amber glow permeating pink curtains, the same one that used to make his heart race and his lips curl into a dimpled grin. it was the one area which remained untouched by strangers, as if preserved from when they were still kids, still apart of each other's lives. he didn't know if it was her — the curtains were still taut, only the slight movement of shadows visible from where he laid. he couldn't text her . . . they stopped doing that years ago. yet, there was never a finite end to their entanglement, so why shouldn't he be allowed the sweetness of curiosity ? with a heavy sigh, peter pushed back the patterned quilt resting atop him, legs swinging over the edge of his bed. his hand reached out instinctively for the familiar weight of the walking stick leaning against his bedside table. gripping it, peter rose to his feet, muscles protesting the sudden movement, yet his mind willed him to continue on to see if it was her. slipping on his rubber slides, the man made his way across his bedroom and down the stairs, a faint creak of wooden floorboards beneath him. stepping into the cool air, grass crunched and crinkled beneath his slides as he found the once-familiar spot — the one beneath hestia's window. he paused, taking a deep breath. endless nights of whispered secrets, shared dreams and glances through the glass of that window. it'd been ten years, and he still remembered everything. it wasn't a well-thought plan ( his rarely were ) but he had a million questions and not a single breath of an answer. he could only do what he knew, reaching down to the brick planters lined against his home. once filled with flowers before his mother's passing, now tiny pebbles varying in shape and shades of griege. he picked up a few, flicking his wrist to send one scattering against the window. then a second, then a third. the sound echoed in an otherwise silent night, so close to what peter recalled. and yet, it added another bullet point to the list of questions that would stay unanswered : how did an old habit grow to feel so foreign ?

[ofglories]

He’s going to gently squish Arthur’s cheeks, then tussle his hair. No particular reason why, good day Mister Still-on-Bedrest-by-Order-of-Bedivere. ( This is the only ask he gets so I don’t have a bristly mage on my hands for the rest of the night lmao )

"Ah-? Merlin?"

Arthur blinked, too surprised by the unexpected cheek squishing and hair ruffling to put up even a token resistance. It reminded him of the way his teacher had reacted after the time he'd fallen out of the pear tree back at Ector's castle. The...first time. When Arthur had yet to know how to land without hurting himself. He'd woken up confused and with his arm bound with splints to a Merlin that immediately set about squishing his face.

It took him a moment to remember just why the mage would possibly be reacting in a similar manner as back then.

Right.

With a huff Arthur reached up to pinch Merlin's cheeks in return. His shoulders still twinged a little but there was thankfully no lingering pain in his hands. The rest of him... Well, that was for later. Once the bedrest was lifted whenever Bedivere was satisfied with how he had healed.

"I'm fine, Merlin. Look, it wasn't anything serious!" Oh, his side hurt. Grimacing he sank back against the pillows with a small pout. Even with the books piled at his bedside, mandatory bedrest would be terribly dull. "It's...still not anything serious. I'm just tired, that's all," Arthur muttered, turning away from the unbelieving expression on Merlin's face.

"...Would it be too much to ask if you could leave cath palug here?"

[verathion]

domus

It's been years since Daphne last step foot in Baldur's Gate, and if there's one thing she hasn't missed, it's the pomp and circumstance. When something big happens in the Gate, the patriar families have to compete as they always do--and now, their competition extends to Daphne, her companions, and who can celebrate their victory over the Absolute the best.

Awful.

The fake smiles, the empty praises. She hates it all. Maybe it isn't as false as she thinks; maybe some of them are genuinely thankful. But, much like her friend Astarion's musings at the tiefling party after their assault of the Goblin Camp--she's not used to being a hero. She's not used to being in the limelight. The first party wasn't so bad; it was a much needed respite from their long and arduous journey to free themselves of that damned tadpole. But tonight? It's the seventh party hosted by a patriar family in a tenday, and if she has to hear one more praise, she may scream.

No, she is not the hero type. Once the novelty wears off, they'll go back to fearing her, hating her for her practice of necromancy, her dark magic. She'll be outcast yet again, not that she minds. Daphne is used to being on her own, walking to the beat of her own drum, exploring ancient ruins, speaking with the dead there. The way things used to be. The way things should be.

As she sits in the corner of the balcony at the manor house of her current party, she sighs. Maybe tomorrow she can slip away. She'll leave a note for her friends. They'll understand--they know she's not made for this life. They know she's not a fan of being in the Gate. Suddenly, her thoughts are interrupted when she hears footsteps behind her. Her upper lip curls into a snarl, annoyed that someone deems it their right to disturb her moment of peace, but when she turns, her face slackens when she sees Rolan standing there.

"Oh," she says, turning back towards the balcony railing, looking out towards the nighttime skyline of the city. "It's you."

Rolan huffs an indignant laugh, tilting his head with a grin. The tiefling wizard's tail sways curiously behind him as he looks her over: huddled in a corner, trying to hide herself behind a particularly large planter. It's odd, seeing her like this; he's so used to her heroism, her bravery in the face of danger--seeing her cowering is something else indeed.

"This seems familiar," he says to her back. "Except, last time, I was in your position, I was inebriated, and we were in Moonrise surrounded by the shadow curse."

Daphne groans. "I'm not in the mood for banter, Rolan." She says quietly. She slips her legs through two slots in the railing, her feet hanging freely in the air as she hugs the balusters close, pressing her face into the cool, smooth granite.

"Clearly," he says, approaching her slowly. "I couldn't help but notice you disappeared. I wanted to make sure you were alright, is all."

"I'm quite alright," Daphne answers his inquiry. "In fact, I'm better than ever now that I'm here, alone, on this balcony. Well, I was alone. It appears I am no longer."

Rolan puts two hands up in mock surrender, waving them gently to dismiss her bristly words. "I'll make my leave. I know when I'm not wanted."

Daphne groans again, turning her gaze over her shoulder before telling him quietly, "You can stay, if you must. Just, please, for the love of all that is good, don't wax poetic about my skills."

"You know I won't do that," Rolan smirks as he makes his way over, sitting next to her, mimicking her position as he slips his legs between the balustrade, dangling his feet next to her. "I am far more skilled than you."

"Ah. Much better." Daphne shakes her head with a soft grin. "You can officially stay."

The two of them sit in quiet contemplation for a time: Rolan wondering what to say, and Daphne savoring the comfort of it. The lull of the muffled noise from the party inside sounds like a distant thunder, and Daphne smiles to herself when she can hear Gale laugh above it all.

"Does it feel good?" Rolan asks. "Not the praise--clearly, you have a disdain for that. Being home, I mean."

Daphne mulls her lip at his question, a low, uncomfortable groan bubbling in her throat as she wrestles whether or not to be honest with him. Her lips stretch into a small grimace, and she hisses when she decides to be vulnerable.

"No," the half-elf answers. "This place has not been my home in some time. I left for Candlekeep after my..." she pauses, the words stuck in the back of her throat, unwilling to be said, "husband passed."

Rolan's eyes widen for a moment, but he quickly recovers, trying not to look too surprised at the revelation. He leans back, resting his palms on the cold stone of the balcony as he continues to listen, saying nothing. Daphne sighs, head hanging between her shoulders as she relents, and tells him more.

"We were young and dumb," she continues. "And in love, I suppose. I was selling scrolls at a booth in Wyrm's Crossing, and he was a member of the Fist, and would patrol the area during the day. He'd always stop to talk to me and ask me how business was going. It took me weeks to realize he never asked any other vendor the same question.

"The next thing I knew, we were married. Had a little flat in the Lower City. He was a good, good man. An honorable man. Oh, how proud he would have been to see me like this. Hero of Baldur's Gate. But as any member of law enforcement, he made enemies. Busted a group of slavers operating in the caverns under Rivington. They didn't like that, you see. Made a house call to voice their grievance. Killed him, nearly killed me. The survivor's guilt weighed heavily on me. Especially when--"

She stops herself, looking at him with a gaze of shame, her golden eyes wet for a moment, but then she takes a deep breath and quells the emotion. Perhaps she will keep that last bit to herself.

"Well," she mutters. "Enough about that. My grief was all encompassing. Unbearable. Everything around me reminded me of him. The sun, the smells, the sounds, the people. I had to leave. So I did. Isolated myself in Candlekeep for five years. That's where I wrangled myself into a position with the Antiquities Guild. Now that I'm back? Everything still reminds me of him. And I hate it."

Rolan sighs through his nose as he processes her story. For a moment, his amber eyes look up to the sky, and then back to her.

"I don't know if I could ever go back to Elturel." He begins, trying to find some common ground to relate to her story. "It's home, surely, and we can't go back, as it is. But after everything that's happened...I wouldn't want to. It's tainted, gone. I suppose that's why I was so adamant to reach the Gate, to start my apprenticeship with Lorroakan, despite his reputation. I wanted security for Cal, Lia and I. I wanted a new home for us. And I wanted no one to ever question it again."

Daphne turns her head towards him, resting her head against the balusters again as she looks up at him.

"No one is more deserving, after all you've been through," she gives him a half smile. "I am glad you have found your new home."

"And you?" Rolan asks. "Is Candlekeep your home? Will you go back?"

Daphne lets out a long sigh, leaning back to mimic his position. Her fingers tap on the stone beneath her as she mulls over his question.

"I don't think of it as my home, no. Will I go back? Probably. I haven't exactly decided. Though, if I get another invitation to a party, I will simply vanish. I can't do it again, Rolan." She jests. "But, in all seriousness...I do have to eventually return. I have obligations to my guild, after all."

"Right, right." Rolan nods. "Antiquities. Ancient ruins and tombs and artifacts and all of that."

Silence falls between them again, both of their eyes drawn to the stars above. Both of them have words on the tips of their tongues, but struggle if they should say it. After an agonizing moment, Rolan finally speaks, his hand rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Well," he begins. "You are always welcome at Ramazith's Tower."

It's all he can muster to say, though the words have weight to them--a hidden promise between the margins. Daphne tilts her head over to him once more, giving him a half-smile. She can read between the lines.

"Thank you," she says. "I'll keep that in mind."

[winged-rat]

conception of human perception (chapter 1)

Chapter 1

A splitting pain

Ears bleeding, skull ripping pain in my head as i slowly become aware of my body, my neck my shoulders my torso my back, all normal but there was something that felt off but that wasn't my main problem, i could hear my friends screaming in my mind, about something i can't remember, the blurred image of a car's headlights hitting my eyes slicing them into thins strips as my nature tried to allow me to take in the amount of light being stuck with me and then a sudden jolt of darkness.

My eyes slowly adjusted to where I was and my mind jolted back to reality, expecting the familiar surroundings of a bedroom or maybe even a hospital bed, since i was going off of my remaining memories but what i saw was nothing like that whatsoever, grass, an open field, no building in site just grass. My mind was spinning literally and figuratively it was like i'd be transported into an opticians eye test, when you look into the eye piece so that they can take photos of your eye socket and they make you stare into an empty void of grass and blue skies, that was where i was the eye space i slowly gained feeling back in my arms and legs and gathered what was left of my consciousness and stood up, but then dropped back soon after a ripping pain flooded all threw my spine and back and i jolted from the agony i was experiencing i wanted to scream i wanted to shout, shout for someone to help me i held my tongue, mostly because i had no idea where i was and by the looks of it there was definitely no people around, then slowly i experienced a blissful release, and relaxed ‘what just happened’ i thought, ‘why did that..’ i slowly turned my head around to look to the back of my shoulder, to be greeted with a swarm of…feathers.

‘’Feathers’’ i repeated, this time aloud instead of in my mind ‘w..why what’’! I regained a sense of alert and began backing up from myself at this revelation feathers they filled my back and pierced out of my skin like a bullet long thick black feathers like a corvick animal or a foul beast they formed a curve to my back they felt incomplete like they had yet to confirm that they were the thing they were, or an uncompleted mission that they had yet to move forward with.’ What in the world was happening’ i found myself saying aloud as i stood up fully this time feeling the bristly sensation of the large masses of quills on my remaining skin, i reached my hand slowly around my side and up my shirt to feel the sensation of all the plumes that had sprouted threw my back just a moment ago, flinching i snatched it back, my palm covered in the almost dried scarlet of the previous agony i was in then it really hit me of what was happening that this wasn't a dream and i was completely conscious.

About an hour went by, id begun to walk this time still feeling rather shook but mindful that i couldn't stay in my spawning place. The repeated thud and trot of my feet kept me calm and so far everything continued to be the dull empty repeatedness grassy plain before i encountered a strage looking entity. It was a human like figure they wore a strapping black suit that seemed to glide over his think body i began to run toward them as i thought that rescue or answers would be in my grasp but as i got closer my eyes adjusted and i saw that the man had no head, well he did but where a normal human anatomy should have completed there was a tv, they turned to look at me i was almost a couple feet away from them and he turned his strange cap to my direction 

‘’Well a fine greetings to you neighbour’’ He said with a static texture to his vocals ‘’and what does you wondering threw a meadow at this hour.’’ he glanced to his strangely normal watch ‘’why its almost sunset’’! He looked at me, his voice indicated shock but his television displayed no such emotion

‘’W..where am i’’ i stuttered as i just had the realisation i was talking to a practically living tv.

He paused, for a long time before answering 

‘’Why your in avalon my good fine fello’’! He finally replied

‘’Avalon’’? I said hesitantly 

‘’Yes my good friend avalon, where everything is nothing and everyone is…’’ he suddenly trailed off ‘’anyways sorry my good neighbour but are you alright’’? His tone suddenly changed to concern.

‘’Wheres the way back to connecticut’’? I said expecting him to give me directions to a train station and was just hoping i might have been hallucinating the tv on his head

‘’I must apologise my friend ‘connecticut’’? He sounded confused

‘’Yes connecticut..’’ he still remained silent ‘’one of the states in the US’’? Still no response, he then jolted ‘’Ah yes.. Em.. i don't know what that is’’ his voice expressed a continuous tone that indicated in confusion, he really didn't know what i was talking about it then hit me, this place felt disconnected from everything i've known from earth, or even just a planet in general the fields seemed to roll forever but there was a sun here so.

‘’Wait, you mentioned sunset’’ i began ‘’what happens at sunset’’? 

The tv man made a flinching like movement and then knelt forward almost bowing to me ‘’you aren't from here are you friend’’?  I shook my head ‘’well now this is a pickle you are in,’’ he paused as though thinking but since his head didn't happen to show expressions he looked to be in a paused state before he jolted back a second later ‘’do not fret my neighbour i shall assist you’’! He shouted ‘’it is not the everyday that i meet a new citizen of avalon no no no’’ he then turned to my back and placed his hand on it as though to push me forward before his hand flinched ‘’a..aha well.. You em.’’ he stuttered on his words ‘’you’re quite a feathery fellow aren't you’’ he seemed taken a back and i replied ‘’well your a person with a tv for a head’’ he seemed offended.

‘’Well now that i may be but ive not seen one of your kind in a.. Long time’’ his tone became distant and sad before jumping back ‘’never the less’’! He returned his hand on my back ‘’come now to avalon we go’’! He then turned to his blazer he had on and shifted it to the inside to reveal a pocket watch, with a long metal chain attached to it, something  like a man from the 1950s would carry. He then looped his figure around the chain and let it swing, it looped his finger three times before there was a distant chime, the ground shook and and all of a sudden a 1957 ford thumberd appeared over the horizon and quick as a flash it curved to stop right in front of us, with no road i was surprised on how it had glided with such efficiency over the bumps and curves of the field, it was a marvellous thing the headlights resembled a bug and had the colour of an oak, brown and rustic it was.

‘’Ah now my friend pop in’’ he then proceeded to fling the back car door open, i hesitated ‘’come now don't be afraid of ol betsy’’! The second back car door flung open without someone opening it as though betsy gestured for me to hop in, i had no choice there didn't seem to be a house in sight so i entered the opened car door, it tightly shut after i was comfortable then hastily skidded and curved before heading in a one way direction.

‘’Come now friend i still haven't yet to know your name’’! He said his voice booming with the static of an old radio.

‘’ wilbur..’’ i replied

[dogydayz]

[In a PrismSpace similar to, yet unlike the ones we may know best, three agents man a spaceship about to launch, preparing to leave and search for a Space that G.U.N. may be able to better utilize without creating such great amounts of suspicion amongst those living on their "home planet"]

[Truthfully, it is hardly a home to them. Nothing is truly a home to any of them, well… Besides the ARK, which they had all been kept on for the beginnings of their lives… But they lack the fond memories of it that most homes require to be, well… Homes.]

[The one leading the operation, manning the controls of the ship, was a small fox known as Project Mutant, the product of G.U.N. conducting experiments on adult Mobians via the use of radiation and various chemicals designed to induce mutations in offspring. He was the only offspring to survive after birth, and the project itself was shut down after all the Mobians tested on had developed severe cancerous tumors that quickly took over their bodies, leading to their eventual deaths. Mutant, also known as "Freak", somehow managed to turn out healthy, healthy enough to thrive, despite having grown an extra tail and having been born with strange internal abnormalities. Unable to speak due to some form of neurological disconnect between the muscles that move his tongue and lips, yet one of the fastest learners out of all of the projects they'd worked with and able to pick up on information in ways that rival even some of G.U.N.'s specially designed robots. As such, he's often placed as the technical leader. Those he interacts most with have learned the various signed signals he uses to communicate, and the one he often denotes as his "brother" can even interpret his expressions and various small noises he makes. He often intentionally feigns an inability to communicate properly to G.U.N. soldiers and staff, however, to get out of doing certain things. Despite being the youngest of the crew, he's often shown the most respect by others, and even those who tend to go rogue often will listen to him.]

[Alongside "Freak", watching out the glass and gazing at the vast, beautiful, yet absolutely terrifying expanse of the Prism Void, was a hedgehog with bristly quills and covered in bruises from earlier training. Project Velocity was his name, though most referred to him as simply "Velo". Truthfully, he wasn't actually created by G.U.N., yet they often tout him as one of their special projects anyhow. He barely knew of his life prior to being taken to the ARK, though it's unknown if he truly couldn't remember, or if his memories had been directly wiped once he was taken there. He arrived around the same time one of their earlier projects had been "re-awakened", the both of them ending up with amnesia at that time as well. As a result, they quickly grew to see one another as odd sorts of rivals, often having to be separated from one another as they'd refuse to listen to commands given to them while bickering or fooling around like the kids they were.

What interested G.U.N. about this person, though, was specifically how in-tune he was to Chaos Energy, despite having never been specially "built" to have any sort of connection to it. Much of the research they do is to try to push his limits, figure out what could break him, figure out what could give him more power, etc. However, they've learned quickly that he's… Quite the peaceful sort, and would often think of the tests they'd run as a game, that is… Until they successfully managed to break his spirit.

He was the first of the various projects to welcome Freak into the team, and was the friendliest of the bunch overall apart from Project Med, who was still being tested at the time anyway. Velo had welcomed Freak in and took him under his wing almost immediately, doing all he could to protect the poor kid while they endured the stress and dangers of being a part of a military organization.

G.U.N. eventually took advantage of their familial bond later on, however. Always with a finger on the trigger, they threatened to exterminate Freak if Velo were to continue to push against their commands, and nearly acted upon it at one point too. From then on, Velo became… Far more stressed, far more immediate in his actions, and would often grow upset at the others if they didn't follow commands either…. Because, well… His brother's life was on the line.]

[…While many of the others never fully could grasp exactly why Velo was so concerned with Freak's life, even if they did still care… One of them DID understand it.

He was one of the earliest projects of G.U.N.'s, no longer even referred to by his experiment name, but rather simply called "Shade". Created long ago, he had been designed to act as a potential cure, only for the one he was meant to 'cure' to try to get him out of the clutches of the G.U.N. researchers and soldiers. However… She ultimately failed, being eliminated before she could get him out of there, and in the end… He was forced to watch her be murdered, before getting cornered and "shut down" and put into a state of comatose, while his creator was sent spiraling into insanity as a result of his grief, failing to produce a viable bioweapon for G.U.N. after the events regarding his initial project, and soon killed for trying to use the non-viable bioweapon to fight back against the soldiers. The bioweapon was sealed away shortly after, and the original project, Shade, was left locked away in a slumber, his body frozen.

50 years later, with his memories blocked out, he would be re-awakened by G.U.N. to be used as a weapon to them, due to the failure of the other bioweapon. However, he would end up meeting Velo, and the two would become fast "fighters" against one another, acting like the silly teens they were at the time when interacting with one another. Of course, the researchers grew tired of having to deal with this, and so… In an attempt to shut Shade down, they returned his memories of the past to him.

For the next few years he would be… Scarily complacent with orders given to him, and he would be silent to just about everyone else. Yet, inside, a rage began to bubble… With every command given to him, internally he wished to just let loose his fury… Yet he was almost too terrified to even try it. He was forced to comply to it, to those who'd destroyed his life… But he knew they wouldn't hesitate to destroy what little he now had if he were to pull anything dangerous.

At some point, the crew would be given a mission that would put them into individual groups… Freak, Velo, and Shade were often placed together as a result of how well they worked together….. But as they'd all learn, it was initially out of fear of losing eachother that they did it. While out, things would start to slip through the cracks, and finally… It would all break. They would all spill what had been scaring them, what they'd gone through, things they'd seen…

And thus… They became some of the only ones to truly understand just what G.U.N. was capable of… Aside from the crew's own rogue spy… But she's a bit of a different case.]

[Now, the three pilot a chrome spaceship through a colorful void, searching for a world to be used as G.U.N.'s newest base sector…

But the three knew their real goal. It had been years, far too many, since they'd been kids together…. Yet they still yearned for something more than what they had now.

Battered and bruised from training and tests, the three of them planned their newest goal… To scout out their escape, to find a place where they could run to. They'd have to go back to the ARK first to pick up the rest of them… Of course they couldn't leave the others….

But… Soon… They wouldn't have to be afraid anymore. Soon, they'd have a true home, they'd get to relive the childhoods they never had, they'd get to enjoy the beauty of the world and live for themselves… And not for the benefit of others.]

[Tired eyes watched the stars as they entered a portal into a strange galaxy, finding a far off planet before them in the distance…

His once shining crimson eyes were greyed from malnourishment. It seems that G.U.N. doesn't quite value the mental benefits of a good meal, so long as the lifeform doesn't physically require it….

He was barely even 24, yet his features were sunken and dull, his quills broken in various places and jutting out here and there… Immortal his goddamn ass… He felt like he was falling apart every fucking day… And yet he hated that he physically felt fine. He didn't feel real, he didn't feel like a person… He… Struggled to see himself as any more than what they'd made of him… The only thing keeping him grounded at this point was his friends, his friends who didn't fucking care if he was designed for some pragmatic purpose, who didn't care if he was a "failure", who didn't give a shit if he was truly some "ultimate lifeform" or really just a guy….]

[He wished to the stars above them that maybe, just maybe… This would be the place… That this would be where they'd all find safety… A home….]

[Sitting in his apartment, Shadow was resting in bed, listening to some music to help him fall asleep, unaware that very soon, he would have to help save both the home that he knows…. And himself.]

[ardensregias]

it never takes long for blade's remaining self-control to evaporate once he caught sight of you.

for it's been too long since he's last had you all to himself, your warmth spreading through his entire body like wildfire as he holds you, setting every last bit of patience he has left ablaze and fueling the sparks of lust in his chest until it burns a bright blue.

so, like the hunter that he is, he does what his instincts tell him to do — claim you right then and there in the living room, too hungry to care about anything and everything else as he folds you into multiple positions and coaxes orgasm after orgasm out of your throbbing pussy. he kisses away the tears streaming down your cheeks both as a reassurance and a silent warning for what to come.

then finally, after what seems like forever, he allows you a moment of respite.

slowly, he pulls his cock out and leaves the tip inside to admire his handiwork — the mixture of his release and your slick coating his entire length, forming a lewd ring around his base, and would you look at that, he's already hard again.

blade himself wasn't sure how he's still able to cum this much in just an hour. his hips seemed to have a mind of its own as they jerk forward to feel more of you, broad shoulders hunching over your smaller body to hide the front door from your view and bring himself close enough to lay another kiss on your lips, swiping his tongue along them and groaning at the taste of blueberry from the chapstick you had on.

(it's nowhere near satisfying for the animal inside him, but a nice little treat nonetheless.

you make a mental note to put more on later.)

the exchange quickly turns sloppier as his tongue dances with yours and his teeth gently sinks into the plush muscles of your lips. a pair of strong arms cage you, tucking you safely and hiding from potential intruders' view — namely, his own teammates.

though, blade is confident that they know better than to disturb him.

you, on the other hand, can't seem to loosen the worried knit stitching your brows together, doe eyes struggling to see clearly and always darting around the room, just in case silver wolf suddenly needs your assistance on one of her games or kafka bursts into the room to asks for your opinion on which coats suit her more.

your lover finally parts himself away from you, watching as a tiny glob of blood oozes out the spot he had bruised, panting breathlessly as he takes in your sweet pleas.

"w-we've been at it for hours, bladie... we really should—mmh!"

"shush,"

another sharp thrust renders you silent once more, the words you carefully crafted with the overheated cogs of your brain have gone back to its jumbled state, trying its best to hold on to the last crumbs of sanity left inside your head.

but frankly, he doesn't want you to.

for you look your prettiest when your eyes are all glossy and twinkling with tears and absolute adoration for him — an undead abomination, cursed to live in eternal purgatory as a slave's slave, his only use being a killing machine.

blade often questions whether he deserves such reverence with all these blood in his hands — coarse and bristly from fractures and lifetime of suffering, yet somehow, you'd still let him feel the softness and warmth of your face, trust him with your entire heart.

with that, surely you wouldn't mind it if he were to knead you into a perfect remedy for his stress, would you?

just like right now, all pliant and obedient with your frilly-socked toes digging into the skin of his waist and walls fluttering to take him in deeper, doing your best to keep all his seed inside — he'll make sure to reward you for it later. for now, he should make the most out of the remaining hours he has left before someone ruins this moment.

"you can take more, right?"

your mouth parts open to answer, but it's certainly not an easy task to form a coherent sentence when he's rutting into you mercilessly, isn't it?

blade opts to grab your face, his keen eyes observing every scrunch of your nose and the tiny river of drool flowing down your chin. he's certain you can take more.

"hm. it seems that you can,"

he drowns your brain deeper into subspace with more brutal thrusts — fueled by your adorable reactions and his bottled-up distress — so deep that you fail to notice the tiny, feminine chuckles resounding from behind the entryway.

thimks heavily about pent up bladie fucking u in the stellaron hunters' living room . . .

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Tiny innkeeper Steve and cowboy Bucky vs the Old West

A while back, @greenbergwrites had an idea about a Steve/Bucky AU set in the Old West, and I expanded on it a little bit. Well, since then I’ve been thinking about it some more, so have an updated version.

Steve is an omega who inherited an inn from his parents - the Irish Rose. It’s a simple little place, but he loves it and works hard to keep it clean and neat. It reminds him of his ma, and her stories about moving out West with his pa and building the Rose. It’s small - a common room, kitchen, and his room on the ground floor with a few inn rooms above and a stable out back - but it’s his. His family’s, for all that he’s the only one left.

New Brooklyn - the town where the Rose is - is also pretty small, really just a stopping point between (slightly) larger towns around them, or a way to fill in large empty patches on a map. 

Mr. Fury runs the general store, which doubles as the post office and sometimes the sheriff’s office, if someone needs him or his friend Coulson to keep the peace. They’re both confirmed bachelors, and sometimes one or the other will ride off for a week or to “for business”, though Steve doesn’t know what type of business that is. It’s odd to have two alphas sharing a business, but they seem to get along fine. They keep to themselves, although Mr. Coulson is always friendly when Steve stops in for supplies.

The other main business in town, though - Brock Rumlow owns The Second Head, and he’s a bastard of a bartender and an alpha if Steve’s ever seen one. He comes on all charming, but he turns nasty if he doesn’t get what he wants. And he’s wanted the Irish Rose for years. 

It’s too big for one little omega to manage all by himself, he says, especially with how sick little Stevie gets. And the Head and the Rose are right next door, it just makes sense to merge them together. Besides, wouldn’t Steve feel better with a nice strong alpha to watch over him, keep him safe?

That last is usually accompanied with a pat to Steve’s ass, which Steve returns by punching Rumlow, and then someone needs to pull them apart. Steve despises Rumlow, and his useless, mangy friends who hang around. He dislikes alphas in general, from their arrogance to their condescending assumptions to their invasive manners. He’s turned away more than one customer for asking to see “the alpha of the house,” as if he can’t manage on his own.

Despite this, he has fairly steady business. New Brooklyn is half a day’s ride south of Stark Town, the nearest city, and sometimes travelers who didn’t stop in the larger city will stop here. Hell, some people just want the quiet. There’s been a rivalry between the Starks - Howard Stark and then his son Tony - and Alexander Pierce for as long as Steve remembers. Pierce wants to own the whole west, and Stark wants a railroad, but not through Pierce’s land, and it’s all a headache.

Anyway, Steve doesn’t worry about it. He has an inn to run, and that’s enough for him. He’s not expecting anything new when a woman comes in, requesting two rooms and three stalls in the stables, so he just shows her upstairs. She’s small, with bright red hair and a beautiful face, though her eyes are hard. A sandy-haired man follows her, stopping to throw a bag in the second room, and Steve doesn’t pay them much mind before he goes to start dinner.

He doesn’t see the third lodger until the morning, when he’s trying - and mostly failing - to get the stove to cooperate long enough to cook breakfast. A handsome alpha with shoulder length, dark hair drags his way into the kitchen, looking mostly asleep and barely dressed.

“God, s’that coffee?” His voice is low and sleep-slurred. “Fuckin’ Barton always burns it.”

Handsome the man may be, but Steve still glares at his intrusion into his kitchen. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes. You can wait in the common room.” 

The man, for a wonder, takes the hint and ambles off to sit where he can watch the kitchen door and the stairs. He actually keeps the other man from barging in too, which earns him a little respect.

And the first mug of coffee, when Steve calls the trio to fill their plates. The woman has to drag the other man away from the coffee pot and back to the table, an exasperated look on her face. “Barnes, keep him here while I get food.”

“Yes’m.”

Steve’s surprised to hear an alpha man obey a beta woman, but perhaps she’s his sister? “Are you Barton?”

“No, that’s the useless lump.” She nods at the sandy-haired man, now whining into his empty mug. “Romanova. Free rider and hired gun.” She offers a hand, and Steve takes it.

“Steve Rogers, innkeep.” He takes the coffee pot over to their table and refills everyone’s cup. Barton is too asleep to do more than gulp it down immediately - and how he doesn’t burn himself, Steve doesn’t know - but Barnes smiles and thanks him.

They don’t stay long after breakfast - Barton drinks an entire pot of coffee by himself while the other two work steadily through their food. Barnes overpays for their stay, and when Barton grumbles, says that he owes it for drinking all of Steve’s coffee and he can win it back at the next bar.

TBC

[inkinary]

POV you are joltik inside a subway bosses pocket

_____________________________

Mister Emmet's coat sure is bigger up close.

The little joltik chittered to himself as he scuttled up the coatrack, shuffling through the layers of cloth. Hide-n-seek was hard with so many hatchlings in his grouping, but this time Mr. Electric-snaky-thing (His name was too long... Eely-sick-toss or something) had volunteered to hunt them! It was good practice for the wild he said. All of the good spots were taken, but there was one spot he knew NOBODY would look.

The coat closet.

He could smell all sorts of places he had never been before on the well-loved fabric; things he had never seen, or even heard of, but yet he caught just a glimpse of them through the many scents. Places he dreamed of traveling to, seeing for himself one day (Maybe even with a trainer of his own!).

Places mama got to go.

He could feel excited sparks flickering on his bristly fur, and he could barely contain himself as he jumped the short distance from the cold metal stand to the white outerwear. The scents were stronger up close, he could even smell a glimpse of his mama, and Mr. Electric snaky thing. Even Mr. Sharp claws, the one who kept them all in line and out of trouble.

His mandibles clicked together in a spidery form of a gleeful smile.

Mr. Snaky-thing would never find him here!

The little joltik picked his way across the coat, his feet finding easy footholds as he shuffled his way to the front. He couldn't hide on the surface, he was too bright, and his sparks would give him away. No... he needed to find a hidey-hole... something dark and THERE!

He chittered happily to himself as he found a little opening on the side of the coat, hidden from the outside and deep enough to hide his sparks. He shuffled inside, pressing his forelegs against his mandibles to stifle his gleeful chirps.

This was PERFECT!

He pushed his way to the corner of the pocket, situating himself on top of a notepad and a weird plastic thing with three holes and a turny thing. The smells weren't as strong in here, and it almost made him a little sad. He wanted to dream about the world while he was hiding. He shook himself happy little sparks flickering over his fur again. That was ok if he couldn't smell them as good... that just meant he had to imagine more!

He lost track of how long he sat there, letting his tiny head wander. He imagined big buildings full of trainers, all with other joltiks or Snaky things, or all kinds of other pokemon he didn't even know. He thought of huge bathtubs of water, as big as the whole building he lived in, surrounded in plants that didn't need pots to grow in, or people to water them. He dreamed of the big metal tubes that the bosses Emmet and Ingo loved, trains they called them, and what they might do, and how fast they would go.

He dreamed...

"ALL ABOOOAAARD!"

The little joltik startled, his glowing purple eyes snaping open two at a time. Did he fall asleep? How long had he been hiding? What time was it? Why was the coat...

Was the coat...

Moving?

The notepad under him swayed again, making him have to grip the sides of the pocket to keep from tumbling forward. The coat was definitely moving, that much was obvious. Why was it moving? Had Mr. Electric-snaky-thing found him that quick?

"Just the normal route today, Ingo?"

"I was thinking of running the Scenic route today, the challengers won't mind a slight detour, and we could use the change in environment."

Was that... the boss twins? He thought they were out with their friend Elly-sa... why did he....

The sound of a shrill howl, metallic and not from any pokemon he had ever met screeched through the air, forcing him to let go of the sides of the pocket to cover his ringing ears. It sounded like what he imagined trains to sound like.

The realization hit him.

He...

He wasn't in the apartment was he?

He debated whether or not it would be a good idea to try to climb back out to see where he was, after all this was EXACTLY the opportunity he had been hoping for! But on the other leg... he wasn't sure if it was safe. Mama wasn't around to keep him safe, neither was Mr. Electric-snaky-thing. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

He may never get this opportunity again.

The little joltik braced himself against the smooth black silk of the inner pocket, using his bristly fur like climbing hooks to get to the top. Climbing back out proved to be much harder than it was going in, but he was determined to make it out. He had to see what was out there. With one final push his head popped over the edge of his hidey hole, his four eyes blinking against the sudden brightness as he took in his surroundings.

He was not at home at all.

This had to be one of those trains!

Metal and leather, seats and handlebars, an arena tucked away in the floor like his mama had told him about. He could sense electricity flowing through every surface he looked at, making his own stores up voltage buzz out in happy little shocks.

He was on a train!

"Ow!"

He felt the coat jerk, his slippery hold on the edge of the pocket failing as he tumbled back into the darkness of his hiding spot.

"What's wrong Emmet? Are you alright?"

"I am Emmet. I... Think something shocked me."

The tiny joltik let out a chitter of fear, quickly clamping his forelegs over his mandibles to keep himself from making anymore sounds. What if the subway brothers were upset he hid in Emmet's coat? What if they told mama he left? Granted, he didn't MEAN to leave... but STILL.

"I think... we may have a stowaway aboard."

He felt the coat stir again, and before he had a chance to react a gloved hand was scooping him up, bringing him once again out into the light. He blinked his eyes in pairs again, trying to adjust once more to the artificial light as fear jolted through him like a full battery. The smiling face of the younger subway boss filled his vision.

"I am Emmet! Hello Timothy!"

Ingo looked over from his station beside his brother, his eyebrow raising ever so slightly.

"Are you certain this little one is Timothy? How can you tell them apart?"

How DID he know it was him? Even Mr. Snaky-thing had trouble telling them all apart, and he could read their voltage.

Emmet tisked, pulling the little joltik closer. He shifted uneasily in his palm.

"He has purple eyes, and two black spots on his knees. This is Timothy! I know all of my joltik."

The little joltik chittered in surprise. He knew Mr. Emmet loved hatching him and his brothers... perhaps a bit too much... but to memorize them all?

"Your memory is truly amazing when you find something to employ it to, brother."

Emmet let out a happy laugh, bringing Timothy op closer to his face.

"I am Emmet. It is verrrrrry hard to concentrate sometimes." He shifted his attention to the tiny yellow arachnid. "We're you looking for an adventure? You boarded the right train!"

Ingo hummed in agreement, shifting some of the controls.

"I'm glad we chose the open-air route. If this little one is looking for scenery, this will show him most of Nimbasa."

Timothy's tiny heart leapt. He was going to see the city?! He sparked again, making Emmet jump with a laugh. He lifted him up to the brim of his conductor's cap.

"We will be arriving at the tunnel's mouth shortly. Please remain seated up there. I will go to the front so you can see better."

The older twin let out a soft amused sound, his face never changing even as his eyes gleamed.

"The things you will do for your pokemon."

Timothy felt Emmet's laugh even before he heard it.

"I am Emmet! I love joltik."

The subway boss walked through a set of doors, leading to the front of the train, the engine if he remembered right. There were all manner of electronic panels, devices, controls, all buzzing with electric life. A huge glass spanned the entire front, with two seats side-by-side facing the window. The glass was covered in metal currently, the controls being manned by a machoke. Ingo saluted the pokemon, stepping up behind him.

"You may leave your post now, we are well prepared for the remainder of the journey. We are ready to return to our stations."

The machoke gave Timothy a curious glance, but saluted back, giving the controls back to the twins. Ingo slid into the left seat, Emmet taking the right as they settled in. The older twin glanced over at the joltik, a flicker of a smile settling in the corners of his mouth.

"We have arrived just in time. The tunnel is about to end."

Emmet gave him a small pat, and Timothy caught the reflection of a soft smile in the glass.

"Are you ready for adventure? ALL ABOARD!"

The panels folded out of the way with a series of metallic clanks, letting in a surge of blinding bright sunlight. Timothy shielded his eyes for a moment, his heart beating fast in his abdomen as he allowed himself to adjust...

His eyes widened, his heart soaring as sparks fizzled off of him.

It...

It was AMAZING!

They were on a track in the sky, a monorail he absently remembered, and all around and beneath them...

Nimbasa city.

Buildings taller than he could have ever imagined, silver, and blue and all other colors gleamed in the sunlight. He could see people, tinier than him from up here, bustling about with more pokemon in all different sizes and shapes than he thought was possible. There were cars, and a few trees, and a gym, and other trains. So many colors and sights it was overwhelming.

This was better than he had ever dreamed.

He heard a synchronized pair of laughs, a finger patting his head as he found himself unable to look away from the AMAZINGNESS before him.

"Looks like we are not the only ones who love the Nimbasa subway."

Timothy skittered down Emmet's form, running up to press his forelegs and mandibles to the glass. He chittered excitedly, gesturing at the glass in an attempt to express how MUCH all of this was. Emmet smiled wider, placing a little train hat on his head.

"I am Emmet! Welcome to Nimbasa city."

____________________________________

My heart!!!!

Ok. I loved this prompt SO SO MUCH. The cuteness overload I got from Timothy.... AAAAAAAAAH. Thank you so much (I shall call you Ansley)! This was so much fun to put together! I took a few liberties with how the Subway would work, adding in a headcanon that the brothers have a scenic line that helps tourists get a good look at the city. (And that subway trains are now also monorail trains but it's FIIIIIIne.)

Again, thank you SOSO much Ansley! This was a DELIGHT to do.

And if you are a reader, remember my asks are still open if you want one of your own! HERE is the post for that! Thank you all so much for reading and hope to see more of you!

-Embargo-

[middleearthpixie]

Dessert

A/N: A Guy of Gisborne/John Porter Crossover, part 3

Summary:Your best friend Angel has set you up on a blind date and you’ve actually hit it off quite nicely. In fact, you’ve invited Porter to come up to your apartment after he’s seen you home… 

Characters: John Porter, Reader

Warnings: Oral sex (m/f receiving), unprotected intercourse 

Rating: M

Word Count: 4,134

***

You didn’t normally do things like this—ask men you’ve just met to come up to your apartment. If someone even suggested you might want to do such a thing, you’d tell them just how wrong they were and why. That was a good way to get oneself assaulted or killed. 

And yet, there you were, closing the door behind John Porter as he stepped into your cozy, one-bedroom overlooking the river. The only light in the room came from the candlestick lamp on the far end table, the one you usually left burning when you were going to be out at night. It offered up enough light for you to see your way around the furniture without stubbing a toe on anything, but not much more. Out of habit, you turned the deadbolt and fastened the chain. After all, it was the city and one couldn’t be too careful.

Just like how one really shouldn’t bring men they’d only just met home with them.

But you weren’t getting any horrible vibes from John. Guy worked with him, Angel had met him enough times that she felt comfortable enough to set you up with him on this date, and there really wasn't anyone you trusted as much as you did her. You were like sisters, so if she trusted John, and Guy trusted John, it wasn’t too much of a stretch for you to trust him as well. And as the evening progress, you saw no red flags or really anything to make you feel at all uneasy about it. Just the opposite, really. You actually felt very comfortable with him, almost as if you’d known him forever. 

You’d spent a good part of dinner laughing with him, over stories he told, ones Guy told, and then when you and Angel shared some of your more memorable student-related stories, he’d seemed just as taken with you. It’d been a long time since you’d felt a guy was actually listening to you. Lately, you seemed to find yourself on dates with self-absorbed or immature men or guys who were so determined to show what a nice guy they were, they bored you to tears or aggravated the crap out of you. John was none of those. He had a dry sense of humor, poked fun at himself without hesitation, and seemed genuinely interested in you besides. 

Of course, the fact that he was drop-dead gorgeous didn’t hurt either, if you were being totally honest with yourself. Black hair. Piercing blue eyes. An angular face that was as handsome as it was interesting. He and Guy actually bore a bit of a resemblance to one another, and you wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out they were related somehow.

“Can I get you something to drink?” you asked, setting your purse on the same end table as the glowing lamp. 

“Sure. What’re you offering?”

You smiled. “What’re you in the mood for?”

“Now that,” he grinned, closing the gap between you, and slid his arms about your waist, “is a dangerous question.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes.” He nodded, his eyes darkening as he loomed over you. He was nearly a foot taller, and while he probably easily intimidated others, you weren’t at all bothered by it. No, you draped your arms about his neck, smiling when you let your fingers slip up into the shorter, bristly hair along the back of his neck and he shivered beneath your touch. That was why it didn't bother you. He didn't intimidate you, nor did he seem to be trying to. In fact, if you had to guess, you’d say he was more than aware of his size and instead did what he could to make certain you didn't feel intimidated at all. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, his eyes seemed to almost sparkle with that same hint of smile. His hands came warm against your back, his fingers lightly brushing against you as those muscled arms tightened just a bit more about you.

He leaned toward you, his lips soft at first as they met yours, but little by little, they grew more demanding, just as your own did. You weren’t shy, either, your fingers curving against the back of his head to pull him that much closer. In return, his kiss grew harder, hungrier, and you melted against him as his tongue eased between your lips to glide along yours in a caress so silky, it actually made your head spin. You felt that kiss all the way through to the center of your being, actually felt your blood growing warmer as it sped up to burn through your veins. 

He pulled you flush against him, his body firm against yours. The hands on your back didn't stay there, but one slid down, over your ass, cupped one cheek to pull you even more firmly into him. His hips steadily pressed into yours to introduce you to the beginnings of what promised to be a very healthy erection. It began as a gentle pressure against your lower belly, but quickly grew into a firm bulge, one that felt big enough to have you growing impatient to see it for yourself. Somehow, you didn't think you’d be the least bit disappointed.

He lifted you easily, clasping you tight against him and you couldn’t hold back your gasp as his hardness met your heat. Without thinking, you rocked against him, your breath hitching with the dart of pleasure that shot through you at the intimate contact. Normally, you adhered to the third date rule, and sometimes it took more than that, four, five, sometimes even six dates to get even this far. But tonight, all bets were off. This magnificent man had you under his spell and you were absolutely fine with that. You ground against him again, catching his sigh, smiling when his hands tightened on you.

Your stomach whooshed when he turned to press you down onto the sofa, where he wedged his hips firmly between your thighs and offered up a steady thrust. That firm bulge ground up against you, the friction sending a shiver through you as the heat between your thighs became a damp one. Smoking arousal swirled through you, a growing ache of need that was only slightly eased by the pressure of him against you. You arched back to meet him, your thighs squeezed against his sides as you sought more and more relief, no matter how short the respite. 

He broke the kiss, lifting away from you to smile as he brought a hand up to the top button of your green silk blouse. He held your gaze, the heat between your legs flooding your entire body as one by one, he eased each button through its hole. Warm silk slid over your hot skin, and his eyes visibly darkened as they swept over you. “Beautiful,” he murmured, tracing the scalloped edge of your emerald green lace bra.

It was only a light touch, but you shivered as a wave of tingles swept through you and your nipple tightened. Fire filled his gaze, his thumb moving in a slow circle, which grew smaller still as your nipple beaded beneath that light layer of lace. Each caress had you biting back a sigh, even as your back arched to press that breast harder into his palm. He curved his fingers about it to give it a gentle squeeze, then slid the tips of them along the inner swell, grazing down until they hooked in the front clasp.

A flick of his wrist, and the clasp gave, and he curved his hand back over your left breast, sweeping outward to slip it free. His palm was slightly rough, and when his thumb brushed over the taut bead of your nipple, you bit down on your bottom lip at the sensations now running riot through you. Your entire skin tingled at his touch, the dampness between your legs hotter still. You couldn't remember the last time just a hand on your breast was enough to make you so wet, and when he bent to capture that nipple between his lips, you couldn’t hold back your low moan of delight. 

His tongue came alternately rough and smooth as it swirled about your nipple, and a teasing nip accompanied each pass. Fire ribboned through you, your hips moving of their own to maintain the sensual contact with him, and when he shifted slightly to bring a solid thigh between yours, you moaned again, the pressure of that firm muscle against your aching folds enough to set your head spinning again. 

He pulled back, raining soft kisses along your breastbone, down over your stomach—and you couldn’t help but suck it in quickly, trying to make it concave so he might not notice the small curve you couldn’t exercise away no matter how many crunches you did.

“Stop that,” came his heated whisper, followed by a playful nip. He looked up, his grin boyish, but his eyes serious as he added, “You don’t need to, you know. You’re beautiful the way you are. Absolutely fucking gorgeous.”

Your cheeks grew warm. He wasn’t supposed to notice you’d done that, but at the same time, his words softened your embarrassment, softened your need to try to be something you weren’t, really. Let you relax and savor his attentions as he traced a fingertip along the curve of your waist, into the slope of your hip. His touch came light against your skin, his fingertips dancing along as you shivered beneath him. 

He winked then, and bent back to flick the tip of his tongue against your lower stomach. A gentle kiss followed. Flick. Kiss. Flick. Kiss. 

Your eyes grew heavy-lidded, your fingers slid through his soft, dark hair as he kissed his way down to the waist of your black linen trousers that were now in need of an iron from the number of wrinkles creasing them. 

He looked up then, his eyes brilliant blue and filled with seductive promise. A shiver tickled along your spine as he held your gaze and slipped the button through its hole, then slid the zipper noiselessly down. 

Cool air danced across your skin as he bared it. His gaze slid lower, his finger tracing along the emerald green lace band of your thong to lightly tease the strip of skin above it. He bent, pressing a steaming kiss just above the tiny green satin bow stitched to the lace. 

He shifted, rocking back on one knee, his other foot planted on the floor. He caught your trousers by their cuffs, and skimmed them off your body to let them fall in a crumpled heap in front of the sofa. 

“Absolutely gorgeous,” he murmured, meeting your eyes once more. He bent back to you, his breath hot against your mound, his fingers gentle as they caught the lace about your hips to tug it down slowly. He lifted his head just enough to ease the lace from beneath him, then came back to you. His gaze grew smoky as he slid his fingers into your heat, through your damp folds to your entrance. His swirled the tip of one finger about that sensitive flesh, then slipped it inside you. Instinctively, you tightened about him as he stroked you carefully, as he crooked that finger inside you to brush a spot so sensitive, one that offered up a sensation so absolutely delicious, that it brought a low moan to your lips, fire to your blood, and made your eyes close on their own as your head fell back.

 Knots formed deep within you, tight and sweet and enough to drive you mad. Your hips moved, rolled to meet his strokes, offering up a hint of relief, but not nearly enough. They tightened with a sinful slowness that had you scrabbling for him, for any part of him to grab hold of. Your hips moved faster now, forward and back, desperate to reach that summit and savor the relief that would come with climaxing.

But he was in no hurry, that finger sliding in and out of you almost lazily. His thumb brushed  your clit, teased it with alternately rough and soft caresses. Your core did a slow melt, the knots almost unbearably tight now, your body practically begging for release. Again, he swept against that sensitive patch just inside you, along your front wall, and the first sparking tingles of orgasm swept through you. 

“Oh, yes…” you breathed, rolling your hips to meet those delicious sensations rippling thorough you. “Please… don’t stop…”

But then, he eased his finger free and his thumb went still and you actually whimpered. He had you so close! Frustration entwined with need had you sliding your hand down between your legs to finish what he started, and as you slid into that silken wetness, he caught you by the wrist and growled, “Another time you can show me how you want to be touched, but not now. Now? You’re mine and I am not finished with you yet.” 

With that, he bent to you, his breath a caress in itself against your overly-sensitive flesh. His tongue slid into your folds without hesitation, his first sweep bold and teasing. Fire scorched you at the sensations he sparked to life. Your hips moved of their own to meet him, and when his lips closed about your clit and he gently pulled at it, your back arched sharply, your core melting in a fiery gush against him as he brought you to that magnificent precipice, and held you there, squirming beneath him. But then, he slowed. He inched you away from the edge, but not completely, which was enough to drive you almost crazy with the need to come. Your body hummed with that need, almost burned with it, taut and aching for a relief he would not give you just yet. 

Instead, he continued to tease you, continued his sensual torment of your body, his breath hot upon your aching flesh, his tongue slow and deliberate as he delved into your damp curls, as he traced about the swollen bead of your clit, moved along the slick wetness of your arousal to your entrance. You sank your fingers into his hair now, your hips moving of their own as he teased your opening to make your insides clench and your core grow hotter still. Every muscle, every fiber, every molecule in your body vibrated with pleasure, screamed for release, each sensation stronger than the last, as he laved over you with almost agonizing slowness. His tongue came soft against you, tracing circles, moving lengthwise and then across through your folds. The tingles were sweet at first, but sharpened with each pass, growing hotter and more powerful with each stroke. He took his time, as if savoring every flick, every caress, every sigh and moan that floated to your lips. 

You rolled your hips to meet him, your fingers now twisting in his hair, desperate for a firm hold as you arched and writhed to make each delicious pass last that much longer. His fingers danced along the sides and backs of your thighs as he slid his tongue back, and this time over your clit. You shivered, your orgasm building slowly, steadily, now. The tension twisted through you, had you almost begging him to shove you out into the abyss now. He left you breathless, mindless with want and nearly mad with need, had you tugging on his hair, trying to maneuver him back to where his caresses felt the most wonderful. 

He obliged, his tongue working with expert precision to sinfully tease your clit until you shuddered against him, the knots deep inside you threatening to explode at any moment. You arched to meet him, shuddered as he swept over your damp flesh, stroking harder and faster now, as he tormented you in the most delicious way until you writhed against him, almost pleading with him to make you come already before you lost your mind entirely.

Then he slid a finger inside you once more, crooked it, and hit that magical spot that made stars burst before your eyes and heat flood your body. You arched hard to meet him, everything inside you turning over as fire filled you, as your body clenched and spasmed about his finger, against his lips and tongue, as the knots exploded and you came a flash so fiery and sweet, you couldn’t help your throaty, “John!” when you went over the edge. 

You trembled against him, fought to breathe, surrendered to that burning, sweet ecstasy as he drew out your orgasm until you thought you’d actually pass out from the white-hot intensity of it stinging you from the inside out. When he finally relented, he brought you gently back down, stroked your thighs with tender fingers, swept tender kisses along your lower stomach, along one inner thigh, as you finally went still beneath him. All you think about was getting him out of his clothes now, because you had never wanted to fuck anyone the way you wanted to fuck him right then.

You urged him back, against the arm of the sofa, and he caught your face in his hands, tilting it to his for a steaming kiss as you twisted your fingers in the front of his shirt. Your arms trembled. Your fingers refused to work properly at first, his low laugh raking over you to set you tingling once more when you finally gripped his shirt to tug from his jeans. He offered no resistance as you skimmed it up and over his head. You leaned in to him, sweeping a kiss through dark hair sprinkled wide across his chest, and when you reached his left nipple and seized it with your lips, his breath hitched, his fingers slipping up into your hair.

You kissed down through that sprinkle of hair, along his firm, flat belly. You wrestled with his belt. With his fly. And then…

You curled your fingers about the smooth gray waistband of his boxer briefs, shoving them and his jeans down with one impatient yank. He fisted your hair as you freed him, and wrapped your hand about his thick cock. A bead of silken fluid already leaked from the wide head and without hesitation, you leaned in to meet him, stroked him once, then bent toward him, your lips closing about him as you slowly took him in your mouth. His fingers twisted sharply, pulling hard on your hair before he eased his grip some and gritted, “I’m so sorry, love…”

You pulled away just long enough to murmur, “It’s all right,” and then went back down on him. You caressed him, treated him to different strokes, different pressures, using your lips, your tongue, and even oh-so-gently with your teeth. His fingers tightened once more, but then just as quickly loosened, his moan low and husky as he thrust against you with a ragged, “Slow, darling… slow…” Then his sigh melted into a purr and he growled, “Just… like… that…"

You did as he asked and slowed, then traced along the thick veined shaft with only the tip of your tongue, flicked it playfully along the sensitive ridge of the head, swept back toward his body. He shuddered with each stroke, arced gently with you, his fingers alternately tightened, then loosened in your hair. You swirled about his cock, slid along him, eased him almost entirely from your mouth, then drew him deep once more with a sharp pull that had his breath hitching sharply. His body tensed, his thrusts slow and controlled, but you knew he teetered on the edge, you felt his control slipping away as his breathing grew even more ragged about its edges and his fingers tightened in your hair a third time and did not ease. 

“Oh, love,” he grunted, pulling free with a soft, damp pop, “I want you…”

He tugged you up and into his arms and a moment later, had you pinned beneath him on the sofa, his hips between your thighs. You shivered at the feel of him, sliding silkily through your slick. Your body clenched as if he was already inside you, hungry and determined to have him, and when he wrapped his hand about his cock to rub that head teasingly against your clit, your gasp short and sharp, your fingers tightening on his shoulders at the unexpected sharp pleasure rumbling through you. 

He pushed inside you carefully. Leisurely. With a sinful slowness that was both delicious and wicked. He sighed as he filled you, as if savoring every inch of you surrounding him. You tingled all around him, tensing as the pleasure grew, squeezing him as you accommodated him, as he teased every single nerve to make you sink your fingernails into his shoulders and press your thighs against his hips. 

He buried himself completely, then went still, his breath heavy and warm against your neck. He hummed inside you, throbbing softly to tease you without even moving a fraction of an inch. The sweet sensations that rippled through you were unlike any you’d ever felt before. You couldn’t explain them, couldn't think too hard about why, as they rendered you almost senseless with the need to demand he just fuck you. Now.

But he didn't just fuck you. Not one bit. He didn't jackhammer between your thighs, didn’t ram into you as if he was breaking down a door. 

Instead, his first thrust came almost gentle. 

Leisurely.

With a sinful slowness that was both delicious and wicked.

His eyes sparkled like smoked sapphires and he drew back just enough to smile at you as he whispered, “Sweetheart…” and then bent to capture your lips with his.

His kiss was every bit as slow and and very heady, his tongue playful as it tangled with yours almost in time to those powerful, steady thrusts. You felt yourself begin to melt around him, wrapped your legs about his hips as he picked up his pace and drove deeper still, as the knots tightened to the point where you thought you’d go absolutely insane if they didn’t burst soon.

Then it happened… 

“Love…” His already-deep voice became a deeper growl as his hips snapped forward and he shuddered. That was it. Gone were those lazy, almost gentle, thrusts, replaced by a hard, driving pounding that had you wrapping about him, squeezing him, rocking to meet him, urging him deeper with each increasingly powerful thrust. He surged hard and fast and deep, shuddering as he growled, “Oh, love… you feel so fucking good…”

His eyes screwed shut, his lips almost slack as he surged harder still. The scents of sandalwood and musk and hints of sin filled the air and you clung to him as everything inside you began to vibrate. Oh, yes… another orgasm bore down upon you, hotter, sweeter, and far more powerful than the last one. Your fingernails dug into his back, scraped outward as he arched away from you and with one last, powerful thrust—

“Oh!” He tensed and then surged deep inside you, crushing you against him as he surrendered to the inevitable and took you over the edge with him. He arched hard. Again. Three times. Then…

Peace. Serenity. Bliss. They flooded you. Perhaps they flooded him as well. He trembled furiously at first and then with a soft sigh, sank against you. He brushed a tender kiss along your neck as he whispered, “Oh, love… I can’t… holy shit… that was… you are… holy fuck…”

You couldn't hold back your soft laugh, wrapping your arms about him, kissing his damp temple. “Shhh… you’re not making any sense, you know.”

“I know,” he breathed, an airy laugh woven into his words, “but ask me if I care.”

You smiled, nuzzling him as he let his head fall into the curve of your neck again. Little by little, his breathing slowed and when he lifted his head, his eyes were tender when they met yours. “Tell me you’ll go out with me again, love.”

You reached up to brush a wayward lock of black hair away from his forehead. “I’d love to.” 

“Thank god,” he whispered, his head falling back into the curve of your shoulder. “That was fucking amazing…”

You tightened your arms about his neck, pressed another kiss into his temple and murmured, “You never did tell me what you wanted to drink, John.”

His sleepy eyes widened, his grin sinful and sweet as he murmured, “You know, I’m not really all that thirsty anymore,” and his lips came down upon yours once more. 

***

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