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sayoneee · 1 year ago

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☆ POISON

“miss her, kiss her, love her, wrong move you’re dead, that girl is poison” - bell biv devoe (2.2k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite! reader. acquaintances to friends to secretish lovers. silena + drew mentions. during tlt.

kashaf’s note: u cant tell me a group of teenagers lived together at summer camp and no one had secret parties. dont @ me for the 90s music references (+ i imagine avantika vandanapu as silena, and momona tamada as drew)

i. and if there was a problem / yo, i'll solve it

“CASTELLAN?” YOU APPROACHED him slowly, tone cautious as if you were speaking to a wounded animal, although in this case, maybe you were, as you reached for his bruised knuckles, remaining persistent, even as he tried to withdraw his hands out of your grasp. “why’d you do that?”

“did i need a reason?” there is a forced jocularity to his words, a well-practiced mask he is never seen without, and you cringe slightly, your gaze catching the grimace that twists his lips. his attempt at a ‘roguish’ grin falls flat, the expression a discordant note against the backdrop of his injuries. luke’s already busted lip splits open, a thin line of crimson carving a river down his chin. he moves to wipe it off the back of his arm, but you’ve already pulled off the bandana tying up your hair (a birthday present from a half-sibling) and begun rubbing at his face.

luke’s eyes widened at the gesture.

despite being tentative acquaintances since your arrival, you’re still annoyed that luke castellan continues to underestimate just how much of his heart he wears on his sleeve — or rather, just how well you manage to see past his facade. his blatant lie hangs in the air, unacknowledged. instead, you deliberately shift your gaze to the purples and blacks that mar his knuckles, setting about wrapping them with your bandana, obscuring the damage.

“i could’ve done that myself,” luke says, amused, his words lightly appreciative. still, at your answering glare, he tosses his hands in the air in surrender as ‘ice ice baby’ continues in the background, uninterrupted, “but thank you, though.”

“i’m no apollo kid, but it’ll do,” you shrug instead of accepting the gratitude, tugging him to his feet, ensuring to grab his uninjured hand, and hauling him outside.

“you’re no apollo kid, and you decide to take the injured man away from where the apollo kids are actually gathered,” luke muses, once again entertained with himself (was there any other emotion this boy could experience besides amusement?), once the lights of the apollo cabin are so far behind you, neither of you could fully see each other.

“you’ll live,” you say, scowling at him through the darkness, forgetting he couldn’t actually see you.

“and you’re moody for a daughter of aphrodite,” he says, still holding onto your hand as he trails after you.

you stop in your tracks, pinch the bridge of your nose, count to three, and finally turn to luke, who still has his stupidly pleased-with-himself expression on his face. “luke castellan, if you don’t end up dying of some tragic fate or the other i will hunt you down myself.”

“duly noted.”

“holy hera, do you even want to know where i’m taking you?”

“nah, i think the mystery really adds some suspense.”

“that’s it, i give up,” you say, before beginning to drag him back to the apollo cabin, when he plants his feet in the dirt ground firmly, grinning crookedly at you as the moonlight finally shines through the clouds, suddenly bathing him in a luminescent glow.

“nah, c’mon, let’s go to your spot.”

you glare at him, watching how his stupid grin only seems to grow in size, an annoyingly endearing trait. with a sigh, you continued to drag him along, scowling each time he tried to make a quip.

“what if we get to your spot, and i find out this was all just a ploy to murder me?” luke muses out loud, looking thoughtful for once.

“do you seriously believe that if i was gonna murder you, i wouldn’t have done it by now?” you say, pausing when he shrugged in agreement, “we’re here though, whiney baby.”

luke’s eyebrows rose as he took in the secluded area near the dunes, finally meeting your gaze again. “aw, i can’t believe you just planned out our first date.”

“i seriously don’t know what any of my half-siblings see in you.”

“so you’ve discussed me then.”

“shut up, i dragged you all the way here, because even though i know you like attention, i don’t think you wanted the attention you were getting from punching that poor hephaestus kid in the jaw,” you say shockingly sincerely, startling both yourself and luke.

luke doesn’t say anything, letting what seems like a confession hang in the air, instead, sits down near the water, and rubs a hand across his jaw, watching you as you follow suit, sitting next to him.

after spending what seems like minutes in silence, watching the waves lap at the shore, luke finally speaks, staring out at the horizon, his tone slightly hollow, and devoid of all things you have come to label as luke castellan, looking eerily similar to the night he had returned from his infamous quest, “heroes aren’t meant to be happy.”

you drew your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head. “i know — achilles, orpheus, theseus…” you trail off.

“and hercules,” luke adds, almost melancholy.

“i think i’ve pretty much accepted i’ll die young,” you say, your words coming out in nothing but a whisper despite the two of you being alone.

luke nods in solidarity, lost in thought. “it shouldn’t have to be like this,” he finally says, voice hardening.

ii. talking sweet and looking fine / i get kinda hectic inside

“okay, for this technique, i’ll need a partner,” luke says, looking straight at you. “can you come up here?”

deciding to oblige him, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly, smiling as you joined him in front of the other campers, who had begun whispering when he called out to you. in the crowd, just past your half-siblings looks of shock, you can see the stolls passing around a wad of cash.

luke addresses the crowd once more, “i need everyone to be paying close attention here, we’ll be demonstrating how to parry, or counterblock for the newcomers.”

as both of you get into position, luke smiles, “don’t forget to go easy on me.”

you laughed, “don’t bet on it, castellan.”

your demonstration ends up feeling like eons, as the two of you continue to dance around each other, parrying and jabbing, and lunging, and striking, and parrying. both of you are panting, your faces flushed as you continue, and just when it seems like you have the upper hand, luke side steps, and easily parries your finishing blow, disarming you in the process.

you laugh as you yield, loving the exhilaration from the fight, but when the two of you face the campers once more, more than half of the crowd is slack-jawed.

luke, ever the showman, can’t resist a grin, “not only was that your lesson to not underestimate aphrodite cabin, but also to show you the level we’re trying to get you guys to. now, partner up and spread out.”

before you can turn back to address luke again, drew is suddenly at your side.

“what the fuck was that?” drew hisses, grasping your elbow and leading you away from the training session in full swing, pulling you into your cabin, where silena sits on your bed (still in her armor), clearly awaiting this impromptu confrontation.

“what was what?” you choose to feign innocence, examining your nails before glancing up to see the twin expressions of horror on both silena and drew’s faces.

“do not act dumb,” drew eyes you coolly, “it’s so beneath you.”

“i’m not acting dumb,” you rolled your eyes at the both of them.

“yes you —”

“you and castellan,” silena interjects, “we want details, now.”

“what details even are there to give?”

silena grabs drew’s arm, pulling her back from apparently nearly pouncing on you.

drew rolls her eyes at the hand on her arm, and then focuses on you, “you’re literally our next head counselor and you and castellan had never so much looked at each other until this week and now he’s asking you to help demonstrate training techniques, like hello?”

silena snapped her fingers in agreement, “c’mon, you can’t deny that something didn’t happen.”

“nothing did,” you crossed your arms across your chest.

“you know what,” drew says, “if you wanna be like this fine. come find me when you finally decide to — i don’t know — talk to your sisters?” she storms out of the cabin, leaving you alone with silena, who sighs, gives you an apologetic look and goes after drew.

“well, that was a shit show.”

you whirl around to see your head counselor standing at the entry of the cabin, poised as ever, not a hair out of place as she stood, examining her manicure, looking bored, as usual.

“couldn’t agree more,” you sigh, sitting on your bed, head in your hands.

your head counselor takes a seat beside you, “look, i don’t care for whatever petty drama just unfolded, you’ll get over it, daughters of aphrodite and all,” she waves a hand in the air, “— but for now, we have more pressing issues. i’m gonna leave for college soon, and the entire cabin knows you’re my successor.”

you nod as she paused, meeting your gaze, and you can’t help but examine the perfect shape of her eyeliner, scanning her entire picture-perfect face in an attempt to discern her mood.

“i don’t care whatever it is you have going on with castellan, but you need to complete the rite of passage, before you become head counselor.”

“the rite of passage?” you asked, having only heard the phrase in hushed conversations around camp, the knot in your stomach tightening as she continued.

“no child of aphrodite is a true child of aphrodite without having broken their first love’s heart,” is all she offers as an explanation, completely straight-faced. “castellan is perfect for your rite of passage.”

your eyebrows furrow as you consider her words, and with a final nod, and gentle squeeze of your arm, she leaves you with both her legacy and your mother’s legacy in your hands.

“oh, and before i forget, whoever doesn’t do it always ends up cursed.”

iii. now let me pray to keep you from / the perils that will surely come

luke’s shoulder brushing against yours has turned out to be extremely distracting, and now you can understand why your cabin is more notorious for breaking hearts, rather than falling in love. you can’t seem to focus on anything except how close his hand is to yours, even the golden hue of the fire or the sing-alongs can’t divert your attention.

the distance between the two of you grows imperceptibly smaller when luke suddenly clears his throat, on the verge of saying something, when a twig snaps behind the two of you, causing you to jump apart and look at the intruder.

annabeth is standing behind the two of you, looking faintly apologetic, but also terrified. “sorry if i interrupted you guys,” she offers, rubbing her arm.

you share a glance with luke, nodding at him. “you weren’t — luke can always talk to me later,” you say, offering her your trademark smile.

annabeth nodded, “thank you,” as luke gently squeezed your hand before getting up to comfort her.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.”

you’re at your usual spot when luke rejoins you, running a hand through his curls. “sorry,” he says, “someone left a spider in athena cabin, and no one could kill it.”

you chuckled, “if it wasn’t a total accident, i’d bet money it was travis and connor.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up at the mention of his siblings, “i think you’re spending too much time around them to pick up on their habits.”

“or maybe, i’m spending too much time around you,” you offer, smirking at him, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your chest as he smiles genuinely at you.

“i like to say i’m an acquired taste,” luke shrugs, sneaking a glance at you as you laugh at him.

“i think i’ve acquired that taste,” you say, without thinking, before realizing how phenomenally stupid that sounded.

luke smiled widely, “y’know, if you weren’t a daughter of aphrodite, i would’ve told you how corny that was —” you shoved him here, “— ow, let me finish, but i actually am really glad to hear that.”

“no wonder,” you smirked, “i can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest.”

“okay, look who’s confident all of a sudden.”

you shut him up with a soft kiss that has him seeing stars.

iv. i know what’s weighing on your mind / you can be sure i know my part

“again, what the hell is going on with you and castellan?” silena asks one early morning before breakfast, birds chirping as she’s lining her eyes with kajal, glancing at the mirror in her hand as she sits at the top of her bed.

“nothing.”

“i literally saw you guys making out and had to scrub my eyes out with soap,” drew adds, looking extremely disgusted at the thought of relieving that experience, as she paints a fresh coat of nail polish.

“fine, you’re right,” you concede, curling your eyelashes.

“don’t you have to do the rite of passage, though?” drew asks, pausing to look up at you.

“i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you say slowly, setting the eyelash curler down on the vanity.

“excuse me?” your head counselor has her hands on her hips, the annoyed expression on her face marring her perfect features, towering over you as she stands in front of your bed.

“i said, i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you enunciate, looking up at her, maintaining eye contact.

the temperature of the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees, and for a minute or so, your stare remained unbroken until she shrugged. “your decision... but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” before dramatically whirling around and heading to the pavilion.

silena gave you a look as drew arched her brow, and you simply shrugged in response.

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thefunkfactory · 6 months ago

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The Orders

Wyatt and his boyfriend Tate were watching the 2020 election results on TV as they cuddled together on the couch. They both believed that the election would be a landslide for the Democrats but after they had dozed off they had heard a loud announcement from the news anchor waking them both up, “It’s official! Donald Trump will continue serving this country as President of the United States of America!”. A sense of dread came over the two, “How could this have happened?” Wyatt sorrowfully asked, Tate just sat there in silence and held Wyatt closer.

Over the next few months life stayed practically the same even though Trump was acting like a dictator, all news channels were banned minus FoxNews and other right wing stations, Trump forcibly created the 28th Amendment which repealed the 22nd Amendment making it so that term limits vanished, and he had somehow managed to make it so that one of his children would take the Presidency if he ever stepped down or died. One day as the boyfriends were making dinner together the TV, which was playing the news for some background noise, ran a segment that sent chills down their backs. “Trump just declared that homosexuality is now criminalized in the United States of America. All homosexuals must go to their nearest police station and turn themselves in, immediately”. Hearing this they knew that they had to flee the country as soon as they could. Running to the bedroom Wyatt began packing up a suitcase for both him and Tate. While his boyfriend was rushing to pack in the bedroom Tate heard a knock at the door, he looked through the peephole and saw police officers standing on the other side of the door. “wyatt! what do we do? there are police at our front door!” Tate whispered to Wyatt after he ran to the bedroom. “ummm uhhhh I dont know!” Wyatt said fearfully as he heard a louder and more aggressive knock at their door. The two boys decided to hide in their own apartment and wait until the police hopefully leave.

The knocking continued until eventually they heard an officer yell at the other police officers “Alright thats it!” Thinking this meant the coast was clear Tate got out from under the bed even though Wyatt begged him not to. “Babe it’s fine they are leaving, didn’t you hear them?” Tate said to calm down his worried boyfriend. Tate walked out of the bedroom and into the living room when suddenly the front door was kicked in, “OH SHIT” Tate yelled out. Tate tried to flee but he heard a voice from the front door yell “THERE’S ONE! GET HIM!”. Before Tate could take more than two steps, 3 police officers ran in and took him down to the ground. Two held down his arms flat on the ground and one officer who was especially buff held down Tates legs. Tate heard someone slowly stepping into the apartment. He watched as this big, masculine police officer, obviously the leader of this mission, stepped over Tate’s restrained body. “What do you wan-?” Tate was cut off as the officer began to monologue, “Know what I hate? I’ll tell you what I hate, I hate people who bring down this beautiful country we have. It’s a shame that you were able to be such a stain on this great nation for so long, but now that Trump has given the orders, you and your…friendsss” the officer made a disgusted face as he said that last part “Well you all won't be a problem anymore”. “FUCK YOU!” Tate proclaimed with fire in his eyes. “Hahah awwww it’s cute when they have this much fire in ‘em it makes it so much more fun to see it drainnnnnn out” The 3 other police officers all laughed in sync, the same monotone laugh. The officer standing over Tate looked annoyed “We’re still working out their old personalities, these ones were fixed early this morning as soon as we got the order. Whoever made them “better” didn’t do the procedure right so we had to wipe their minds and start fresh.” The officer rolled his eyes. Tate was puzzled and asked “What do you mean “fixed”?”. “Huhuhuh oh buddy you really don’t know do ya? Police and Military across the nation have been given these” The officer held up a baggie with a bunch of red pills that looked like M&M’s and shook it, “to get rid of the gayness plaguing this nation. Some of my officers gave them to your “friends” this morning but they came out…wrong” As he said that he placed his right palm down on one the officer’s head who was holding down Tate’s arm. “This dumbass and the idiot behind me used to be a gross married couple. Good thing my men got to them before they could indoctrinate some kid or something” Said the officer standing above Tate. “No…no what did you do to them?!” Tate cried, “Oh don’t worry my dumb little gay boy, you’ll see”

Wyatt, with his hands clasped around his mouth, watched as the officer above Tate pulled a little red pill out of the baggie he held up earlier. He squatted down and pulled apart Tate’s clenched mouth and forced him to swallow the red pill. Wyatt watched as his boyfriend began to seize on the floor as the 3 other officers continued to hold him down. Wyatt was forced to watch as his boyfriend’s hair became shorter, thinner, and lighter, his fluffy brown hair had just dissolved into the dirty blonde mop now on his head. Wyatt watched as his boyfriend’s face gained some softer features, a rounded nose, a soft round jaw, but his brow bone became more prominent and his lips grew thinner. His boyfriend stopped shaking and calmed down but was now making animalistic grunts every few seconds. It was obvious he was trying to resist whatever was going on in his head. The officer looked down at Tate and saw that no progress had been made past his head, “Tsk I hate having to do this, you should just give into the right side”. The officer untied his boot and took it off, he gave it a whiff and recoiled his head “Oooof huhuh you’re in for it now!” the officer swatted over Tate and placed the boot right over his nose and mouth. Wyatt heard his boyfriend’s animalistic grunts get louder as the boot approached but as soon as it covered his face the grunts died down, becoming sparser than they were before the boot was lowered. This is when the real changes happened, Tate’s arms began to bulk up and his already hairless armpits stayed that way but still being able to proudly pump out pungent B.O., his chest grew two soft pillows as his pecs exploded with muscle. Tate’s stomach stayed lean while gaining some muscle and his thighs began to get girthier and girthier. Tate began to grunt loudly as he tried to push off the mindless officers holding him down, the officer who had been in charge of all of this removed the shoe and mockingly said “Awww you were doing soooo good.” He grabbed another red pill and forced it down Tate’s throat.

Tate quieted down quickly as his body continued transforming. Tate felt his ass twitch and tingle when suddenly it ballooned up like a life raft and was now a nice soft cushion. His legs grew a nice layer of hair that spread to his newly minted ass cheeks. Lastly Tate’s feet began to expand, “Ooooo this is the best part!” the officer in charge proclaimed. Tate’s feet grew bigger and meatier, a soft wafting stink began to float off of them which quickly evolved into a rotten smell of pungent cheese. Wyatt watched as his sweet sensitive boyfriend was left a sweaty and smelly mess on the ground. The officer said to himself, “Time to clear out his block, gotta make sure we get all that homo stuff out”. The officer bent down and placed his hand into his own armpit and then proceeded to place his hand right under Tate’s car, “Yea…smell that manly stink. Thats what you smell like now. You are a stinky, straight jock; nothing more, nothing less.” Tate began to grunt even more animalistic now but it wasn’t him trying to escape…Tate was moaning… Tate was thrusting the air and flip flopping between moaning and grunting as the officer continued his speech about Tate’s new form. Tate kept going and going until a wet spot appeared in the sweatpants Tate was wearing.

He was gone, sweet, innocent Tate, the guy who would always go along with the love of his life, Wyatt, the guy who accepted everyone, the guy who was a proud gay guy, all of that was now just a damp stain in his sweatpants, right in the crotch region. The officers turned the TV station to an obscure channel no-one would flop to on their own, it was just a looping video of a hypnotic spiral. It taught important truths about how evil gay people are and how much better it is to be straight as an arrow, and now Tate’s mushy, brain-drained mind was being forced to watch it. The officers stayed in the apartment for an hour as Tate was indoctrinated into the Republican party, the entire time Wyatt kept hidden under the bed. Once the officers left, Wyatt emerged and saw Tate still staring at the spiral and drooling, the officers had left him to sit through the spiral even longer than he needed to. As drool dribbled down his chin, Wyatt couldn’t help but feel awful for the smelly himbo that used to be his boyfriend. He grabbed a tissue and went up to the brainless giant to wipe away the drool when suddenly Tate looked at his and said “What do you think YOU are doing GAY BOY?!” his breath reeked something awful and Wyatt tried to back away. “Nah come here bro!” Tate lifted his armpit and grabbed Wyatts head and forced him deep into his noxious B.O. factory…

To Be Continued…

#dumber #stink #musk #jock tf #armpits #gay to straight #MAGA #lib to con #ttf

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freshxsturniolo · 6 months ago

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4th July - FINAL PART - chris sturniolo x reader

life with chris had been a bundle of joy, as you knew it would be. his energy had only projected onto you and it was hard to not match his energetic and talkative self every time you were around him, which was admittedly a lot. your little happy bubble since he asked you to be his girlfriend a couple of weeks ago had only bought out a side to you both that you didn't even know was there.

you had spent everyday with him since, even though the two of you had busy schedules you made sure to slot in time for each other each day. you had also become insanely close with nick and matt, which was everything to you. you could roll up to their house whilst chris was busy with meetings and sit and chat to the both of them for hours, or you'd happily pull matt out for coffee in a morning when chris was still sleeping.

you felt your relationship growing stronger, everything around you both aligning.

as you sit on madisons sofa now, curled up against chris' side with music on in the background as everyone around you chats about everything and anything, you can't help but feel a surge of emotions you'd never felt before. you didn't want to say you loved chris, your relationship was fresh and you were aware that at any moment it could go the opposite direction, but there was definitely something there, bursting to come out.

when you had arrived at madisons house, she had opened the door and greeted you with open arms before she grabbed your hand and pulled you out into the garden where the three triplets where, with some other of madisons family and friends.

"its so lovely to meet you, i've heard so much about you over the past couple of weeks" madison had winked, and you had rolled your eyes before blushing slightly.

"he is a yapper" you laughed, playing it off cool whilst deep down your stomach was doing somersaults.

the minute chris had seen you, he had come running over. scooping you up in his arms and lifting your feet off the floor. you heard madison giggle at the side of you, and a whooping hallow from either matt or nick, but you had ignored it all as your wrapped your arms around chris' neck, giggling in his ear as his arms wrapped tightly around you. when he put you back down, he didn't waste no time before he planted a strong kiss on your lips.

"you came" he smiled.

you side eyed madison. "for madison" you said, and she had laughed at the side of you.

"put her down lover boy" madison had said, walking over and taking your hand. "shes mine for the evening"

and so you had been. you had played with her dogs, utterly and blissfully in love with them, whilst madison showed you around her house before the two of you grabbed drinks and sat by her pool. it was another warm day in LA and the sun shone down on all of you, the triplets playing in the pool like little kids.

"so," madison had said when your conversation had died slightly, and you looked towards her with a smile. "you and chris, huh?" she winked, which made you life as you changed your position so you could fully watch him in the pool. he was balanced on nicks shoulders, trying to keep upright whilst dunking nicks head into the water, a muffle of screams coming from them both. you laughed as you watched them both before turning back to madison.

"i feel like we are an extremely unlikely pair, but it just works." you smiled, and madison smiled in agreement.

"you are both so sweet, the love you have for each other is so evident"

your heart stops for a second, and madisons eyes widen when she realises what shes said. "oh my god, im so sorry. i didnt mean to get ahead of myself."

but you laughed. "its totally fine. its still early days but i defiantly feel something for him i dont think i ever have for anyone else."

she smiles now and looks over at the three triplets. "keep hold of that feeling, babe."

and when you turn to look at them to, chris is leaning against the side of the pool, his eyes firmly on you, and when he sees you looking he gives you the warmest smile. a smile you had never seen before, but a smile you could get used to.

so when you're lay against his side some hours later, listening to everyone around you chatter, and he taps your shoulder to pull you outside, you suddenly feel sick.

"are you okay?" you ask, and he laughs, wrapping his fingers around yours as he walks towards the kitchen, before pulling you outside into the evening air. the sun is setting, a perfect glow illuminating madisons garden, and sits down on an empty chair, before pulling you to sit on his lap.

"chris" you giggle as you practically fall down on top of him, before you reposition yourself so you're sitting comfortable. one of his hands around your waist as the other lays against your thigh.

you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning back slightly so you ca see him properly. his hair has curled more than you've ever seen it before from the chlorine in the pool, still slightly wet on the ends, and he looks blissfully tired. dark rims under his eyes, but equally he looks the most beautiful you've ever seen him.

"oh god, are you breaking up with me?" you suddenly say, and he rolls his eyes before leaning forward and planting a kiss on your lips.

"no, pretty girl."

pretty girl. you don't think you'll ever get over the pet name.

"oh, thank god." you chuckle, and he squeezes your thigh.

"i want to ask you something" he says, and suddenly he looks really nervous. looking down at your legs so he can avoid your eye contact. the gesture puts your heart in your throat.

"whats wrong?"

he looks up now and smiles. that same smile from earlier.

"you know how we fly to boston in a few days for our birthday?" he asks, and you smile.

"yes?"

"well, - and i've already spoke to matt and nick because i know you'll tell me you don't want to intrude, and i also know its taras birthday too, so im not expecting you to say yes, but, i wondered if you wanted to come with us?"

your stomach does somersaults. "chris-"

"if you dont want to its fine but, i just checked a minute ago and theres still spaces on the flight, and just ... i want you there."

your speechless for a second, and you can see him searching your face for an answer.

"matt and nick-"

he rolls his eyes jokingly. "they love you, babe. and -"

but he stops himself, looking down at your legs again.

your hearts about to damn near stop.

"and what?"

he looks up at you, the sun bouncing off his face. "watching you with madison earlier. fitting so perfectly with our friends. not being jealous or acting weird that we're friends with her. and, fuck i know its early, but i might just be in love with you. and you don't have to say that back. but i think i am. and i want you to meet my friends at home. i want you to meet nathan. i want you to meet my brother justin, and i want you to meet my mom and dad. they'll love you too and ... just. yeah."

you could cry. you could seriously cry. and as you look over his face, you know your feelings match. you know madisons words earlier are true.

so you say it, its almost a whisper but you say it. "i think i love you too."

his eyes widen, he searches your entire face before his hand leaves your thigh and comes to your cheek. "are you serious?"

and you laugh. "im so serious, chris. i'd love to come to boston."

"oh you're fucking perfect. you're actually perfect"

and then he kisses you. soft, gentle, but with all the passion in the world.

and everything in that moment just felt so perfect. everything in that moment was perfect.

you were completely and utterly in love with chris sturniolo, and you wanted the whole world to know it.

#chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic

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rafeandonlyrafe · 1 year ago

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gamers

words: 800

warnings: vague descriptions of video game violence and gore, established relationship

“is it scary? i don't wanna play if it's scary.” you pout as rafe places the controller into your hand.

“ill protect you, promise.” rafe says, reaching over to flick the lamp on the side table on, that way more than just the light from the tv is illuminating the room.

“fine, but you can't get mad at me if i get your character killed.” you watch as rafe navigates the game easily, opening it up to the character customization screen, just doing default settings for himself.

“oh my god, im gonna make my girl look so cute!” you gush, taking your time to carefully choose her hair and outfit, even though none of the options are stylish, you create the best look you can out of the post apocalyptic clothing choices.

rafe doesn't care that he has to sit and wait for you to perfect your character, not when he finally got you to agree to play with him.

“okay, done.” you nod as you choose a pair of pink sneakers, practical but still cute. “so what's this game all about? just running from zombies?”

“basically.” rafe says with a light chuckle. “we gotta get to the safe house for this round. just follow me, gonna pick up some weapons.”

you pick up the hang of the controls easily, concentrating on the tv as rafe drops a knife and gun for character to use to protect yourself just in case.

“this isn't so bad.” you hum, pausing to admire the scenery in the background of the game, mountain peaks poking up into the sky. “where are all the zombies?”

“they give you a few minutes to get weapons before the storms start.” rafe says, eyes scanning the screen as you head into a building, rafe knows there's med packs in there that he will need when he sustains damage keeping your character safe.

“storms? that sounds scary rafe.” you scooch so you’re closer to your boyfriend. “and it's getting dark.”

it's already dark outside your actual window, but you can tell that it's getting darker in the game as well, the sun setting as you follow rafe down the desolate street, crashed cars and trash strewn about just like if it was a real apocalypse.

“here they come!” rafe warns, clicking the buttons quickly as his character shoots at the zombies moving slowly towards you. your eyes widen upon seeing the gore, cringing and turning to hide your face in rafes shoulder once your character is hidden behind a stopped car.

“i don't like this rafey!” you whine once the gunfire stops, peeking up to see a literal pile of dead zombies. “it's scary.”

“i know, but i kept you safe, didn't i? we are almost done with the first level, just gotta get to the safe house then we can take a break, okay?” rafe offers, keeping his eyes on the screen but turning his head to press a kiss to your cheek.

“fine.” you groan. you like playing games with rafe, but your preference is him watching you dress your sims or decorate their houses after using a cheat to get them more money, only wanting your sims to have the best furniture.

you navigate your character to follow him down the sidewalk, occasionally stopping to kill the zombies. you even manage to shoot a couple.

“wait, baby, be careful.” rafe warns. “dont go that way.”

but his warning comes too late as a zombie jumps out of a dumpster that you’re standing directly next to, making you scream as it takes up your entire screen, not just attacking your character but also jumpscaring you.

“i got you, hold on.” rafe is pressing the sprint button as hard as he can, as if that can somehow make his character get to you faster. rafe manages to kill the zombie before it has the chance to bite you.

your chest is heaving up and down like you were the one to get attacked. “come on, the safe house is just around the corner.” rafe wraps an arm around your shoulder, using one hand on the controller until you’re both behind the barbed wire fence, the game switching to a cutscene.

“i hate this.” you look to rafe with a pout on your face. “can we play stardew valley instead? please?”

rafe sighs. he should have known better than having you play with him. you are extremely adverse to any sort of shooting game. “yeah, sure.” rafe saves his progress, just in case he can convince you to play with him again before switching to stardew valley and handing you the main controller.

“yesss, thank you.” you smile, pressing a kiss to rafes cheek as your character wakes up. “you’re the best boyfriend ever.”

“you just say that because you need me to go into the mines for you.” rafe says with a laugh.

“well, its scary!”

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 year ago

Text

Great Balls Of Fire

Bradley Bradshaw x fem!reader 9k words (ik. i did it again. im sorry)

summary: It’s been four months since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw. Today's the day he finally comes back from his mission and you have more than one ace up your sleeve to surprise him with.

a/n: smut ahead. 18+ im serious theres smut theres a lot of smut. okay. as usual i will now list everything you may have to look out for

fancy ass lingerie, oral sex fem!receiving, unprotected sex (dont be like them, just know theyre in a committed relationship theyve had the talk and all), a lot of begging, hair pulling, good girl's because yes, in general again bradley is a talker, otherwise that's it

top gun masterlist

It had been so long. It had been too long.

With the sun beating down hard on the pavement of the parking lot, the sunglasses on your nose doing their hardest to protect your eyes from the worst of the light, the sound of your heels clicking against solid ground as you took a few steps into the shade of the tree next to Bradley's Bronco. You had been waiting for ten minutes now, checking your phone what seemed like every five seconds, too nervous to actually pay attention to it but too nervous to keep calm either.

You had been so scared you would crash into a grandma on the way over here that you had honestly considered taking your own car instead of the Bronco - but Bradley had trusted you with it, had trusted you to keep his lady running, you, even though he never let anyone else as much as touch the steering wheel, and you would be damned if you didn't pick him up in it.

You hadn't seen him in four months. Four months.

You had been by yourself, had been on your own, had been lonely for four fucking months.

But today was the day you would see him again. Today was the day his oh-so-secret mission would finally, truly come to an end, the day that you would finally, truly see him again. Not over some low-quality video call in the middle of the night, with only your kitchen lights on in the background and your mind hazy and tired because he was nine hours ahead of you and seemed to be at the other end of the world - no, today you would finally, finally, finally see him in the flesh.

You'd been anticipating this moment for the past four months.

So this had to be perfect.

This would be perfect.

You had done everything possible to make this the most perfect day of his goddamn life. You had spent the last four months moving things from the old apartment to the new house - those things that you and him hadn't already moved anyway - and the past week, you'd been cleaning, decorating, anticipating.

He had told you so often how much he missed you. How much he wished he had been there for you, to help you pack the things, to help you take them apart and put them back together, to do more than just the paperwork and set up the bed and the couch.

But he couldn't. And now you were bubbling with nervous excitement, with the joy of sharing all of it with him, to show him the desk you'd put up in the bedroom, the pillows you'd bought for the couch, the paintings you'd hung up on the walls, the kitchen table you'd replaced, the kitchen tiles you'd painted. To show him how much better this new home was than the old apartment had been (even though you'd been very happy there for the past four years as well).

And Bradley would love it. You were sure of that.

You just wanted him to see it so desperately.

You looked up as another car approached - it wasn't Bradley, you knew that, Bradley would come out of that door opposite you, not out of a car, but... There was still some tiny little sliver of hope, the same way there had been every single goddamn time someone had rung your doorbell. It had only ever been the postman or your food.

The car stopped next to you. You watched the engine being turned off and the driver get out because, well, what else was there to do except nervously shift your weight from one leg onto the other and go insane?

So you watched the stranger hop out of their car, nodded politely at them and then refocused your attention on the tips of your sandals. At least you weren't the only one waiting here anymore.

You got out your phone again, checked the time (it'd been a minute and a half since you'd last looked at it) and let out a sigh.

It wasn't that Bradley was late. There wasn't really a "late" anyway, he'd only been able to give you a vague time he'd arrive on, but still. You'd been buzzing with nervous energy for over a week.

You took a deep breath to steady yourself, wiped your sweaty palms off on the sundress you'd put on - the tiny yellow sundress that Bradley had picked out for you on your birthday last year. The tiny yellow sundress that hid the sinful white lingerie under it just perfectly. The sinful white lingerie that you had bought for this very moment.

Bradley would go feral for it, you knew that. He loved white. You thought it was because it looked innocent, chaste. Like something untainted, something waiting to be ruined. Not that you minded. One day, he had promised himself, he would admit to you that it was because it looked like something you would wear on your wedding night.

But either way, you had gone shopping for the perfect set of lingerie and you were more than happy with your final choice.

Bradley could unwrap you like a present. You were desperately hoping he would unwrap you like a present.

You had spent the last four months not doing anything other than hoping. Imagining. Remembering.

So you weren't surprised that you felt like you'd soaked through those pretty (and expensive) panties already.

Your breath hitched. You shifted your weight again.

Bradley would carry you in his big, strong arms over the doorstep, would push you against the wall, would take everything he wanted from you and give everything you needed - he'd pull your dress right off and, at the sight of your lingerie, would fuck you raw.

You had to bite down on your lip to keep you grounded. Four months away had been a long, long time. Four months in which you'd only had yourself, your fingers, your vibrator to keep you company - four months in which you'd only heard Bradley's moans spill over the phone, had only heard him call you honey and good girl through a low-quality mic, had only seen him on pictures he'd left you, on a tiny screen at best.

You were depraved. And pretty sure you'd fall apart at the first touch.

You were so immersed in your thoughts, in that lovely imagery you had created in your head, that you almost missed the door opening. Finally. Finally. You straightened up at once.

It wasn't Bradley who stepped out first - it was one of his colleagues, you guessed, with blonde hair and much shorter - but it was Bradley who stepped out second. You'd know him from miles away.

He strode out of the door and into the sunlight, all familiar brown curls and broad shoulders and Ray-Bans on his nose and an Hawaiian shirt on and his bag lazily slung over his shoulder and that moustache - by god you'd have killed him if he'd shaved that off!

He turned his head and looked at you and a grin broke out on your lips, so wide, so incredibly wide that it felt like it'd split your face in half and before you could think, before you could form any coherent thought you were already moving, your legs with a mind of their own. You were sprinting towards him. Sprinting all through the parking lot, your heels click-clicking on the pavement, and Bradley grinned, grinned and let his bag fall to the ground carelessly, opened his arms instead. Wide, so wide. He was so tall. So broad. So inviting as you ran at him, as you jumped at him, as you wrapped your arms and your legs around him at the same time, as he caught you effortlessly, as your lips landed on his.

As you crashed into him, completely, and he didn't even stagger an inch back.

You had missed four months of this.

And now his lips were on yours. Your legs around his waist. Your arms crossed behind his neck. His breath against your mouth. His lips parted. His tongue against yours.

You were desperate. And you could feel just how desperate he was, too.

You could feel all the passion, all the fiery, red passion, all the force and firmness put into this kiss as his tongue ran along yours, as your breaths met and mingled, as his hands dug into your thighs to keep you upright, to keep you snug to him.

You pulled back incredibly reluctantly. You didn't want to let go of him. You never wanted to let go of him ever again. You wanted to have him, all of him, right here, right now, and then for eternity. But you couldn't, you couldn't because this was the middle of the parking lot, and also because you at least wanted to say hello first.

So you blinked open your eyes and took him in and allowed yourself to grin as broad and as wide as you needed to right now.

"You're back", you whispered, just because that realisation still had to sink in. "You're really back."

Bradley nuzzled your nose with his and let out a hum - god, how you'd missed him. The feel of him, the sound of him.

"Yeah, I'm here, honey", he muttered, that smile of his dripping down onto his voice. "I'm here and I won't leave any time soon."

You couldn't help but lean in again, couldn't help but capture his lips again because how else, how on earth would you let him feel all the joy you were experiencing right now? You didn't even know if you could actually feel all of it. You definitely wouldn't be able to put it into words. So you dug your teeth into his bottom lip and sighed into him and pulled him closer, closer and closer, even further into you.

"I missed you", you breathed against his mouth. "I love you and I missed you, Bradley."

He chuckled, kissed you again, drew back just enough to still touch you somehow, to still have his lips on your skin somehow and be able to talk at the same time.

"I love you so much, honey", he muttered. "And I missed you so much."

And then his lips were on yours again, his fingers digging even harder into your thighs, his breath and his tongue and his moustache scratching against your skin and you moaned, because there was no more anything you could possibly have done, because you couldn't help yourself, because you couldn't stop yourself, because you didn't want to either. You wanted to let him know just how goddamn fucking much you'd missed him.

Bradley had to bite back a laugh, pulled back and looked at you through his sunglasses.

"Sounds like we should get home, honey", he said, his eyebrows raised and his smile deepening with every word. "Been waiting for that for four months."

You let out another soft moan, pushed yourself even closer to him, dug one hand into the back of his hair and scratched the other down his shoulders, down his shirt. You wanted to feel him. All of him. God, the ride home would take ten minutes. Ten minutes. How were you supposed to survive that?

"Please", you whispered onto his lips, and you didn't think you had ever meant it as much as you did now.

Bradley groaned and kissed you again, quickly, heatedly, his tongue running along your bottom lip and then pulling back again. This wasn't enough. This wasn't enough.

He set you down on the pavement again softly, your legs a bit wobbly, unsteady, and trailed one hand from your thigh to your back - anything to keep touching you as he bent down to pick up his bag again. You smiled up at him, smoothed down the front of your dress and beamed as his eyes traveled down your body.

When they snapped back up to catch your gaze, the grin on his face had turned into a much more intense expression.

"You look gorgeous, honey", he muttered, tugging you further into his side, letting his eyes drop down to your chest again. You had to bite down on your lip to keep from jumping at him right this second. He should not have been allowed to just look at you if you couldn't have him touch you too. "Did you pick out new nail polish just for this dress?"

Your grin broadened. Of course he'd notice. Bradley Bradshaw was the only man in the whole universe who would notice. And he was yours.

"Yes, I did", you smiled, looking up at him as he walked with you back to the car. He hummed softly.

"It works great together", he said. Your breath hitched. He was gorgeous and he was here and he had noticed your nail polish. He was perfect. And you wanted him to fuck your brains out. "Reminds me of your burgundy silk dress."

You had to bite down on your lip again - god, you hadn't done that nearly as often when he'd been away! - to keep yourself grounded and to keep your grin in check before it could truly split your face in half.

Your burgundy silk dress was the one you'd worn to Penny and Mav's wedding two years ago that you had spent three weeks hunting down matching lipstick and matching nail polish for. Bradley had worn that lipstick on the base of his cock for most of the night.

"You're incredible, do you know that?", you asked, your voice a bit breathy. Bradley stopped in front of the Bronco, turned to you and pulled you close again. You brought your hands up to his chest.

"I've been told", he muttered, tilted his head down to look at you and then leaned down even further to brush a kiss to your nose. "Open up the Bronco so I can put my bag in the trunk?"

You let your eyes flutter close for just a tiny little moment (he was close, so close and you would literally die if he didn't start touching you any time soon) and breathed in as Bradley chuckled. You'd put the key in your pocket and were scrambling to get it out now, taking one, two seconds too long before you heard the familiar click of the car unlocking.

"Thanks, pretty girl", Bradley mumbled, letting go of you to pull open the trunk and you had to push down a sigh of disappointment, even as anticipation rose up in your stomach. You hadn't heard him call you pretty girl in months.

When he turned back around to you, you were still frozen in spot, still smiling dumbly at him, still waiting for him to touch you, to kiss you, to fuck you. He smiled back and you knew that he knew just what you were thinking. But you couldn't even begin to care. You wanted to get him home as quickly as possible.

"You need to stop looking at me like that, honey", he said, his voice an octave deeper and you just so managed not to let another dumb, pathetic moan slip. He closed the trunk and took a step back to you. "You know I can't help myself when you look at me like that."

At that, you did let the moan tumble from your lips after all.

He'd been away for four months. And he was looking at you with his eyes all dark and his jaw clenched and his chest rising and falling heavily. How on earth were you supposed to be normal about this? You were falling apart already and he hadn't even got you home. Four months had been a long, long time.

His hands were on your waist then, forcing you against the side of the bronco, the door handle digging into your back, the metal warmed up by the sun and your arms crossing behind his neck as his body crowded yours, one leg between yours and no more space to touch, to feel, to see anything that wasn't him - he turned his head to check if the other car had driven away and then his lips were on yours, his knee pressing against your centre.

"Bradley", you moaned into his mouth, before his tongue brushed yours and rendered you speechless. You rocked against his knee, bare skin against your thighs and you wanted to sob, you really actually wanted to sob, because this was the most contact you'd gotten in four fucking months.

Bradley pulled back an inch.

"You're soaked", he groaned against your lips, his breath on your skin, his hands on your waist and you thrust your head back against the car, against the window, squeezed your eyes shut, kept on rocking against his knee.

"I know", you whined. "Been soaked for months."

Bradley let out another groan and pulled back, pulled away from you and you whimpered, blinking your eyes open again because you'd been so close to finally getting what you wanted and now he was taking that right away from you again. You looked up at him and the only reason you didn't straight up voice your disappointment was that he looked just as debauched as you felt - running his hands through his hair, running them over his face, his curls all messed up and a considerable bulge already visible in his jeans.

"Get in the car", he rasped, taking another step back from you as though he had to physically put distance between the two of you so he wouldn't give in and take you right in this parking lot. Not that you would've minded. That other car was long gone. But that he had to restrain himself so much, that he looked so positively exhausted, that his voice was so hard and so rough and so raw, that he had already, so easily begun giving you orders drove you crazy. Orders that you knew you had to follow because this was him, this was Bradley, and if he wanted something from you.... he'd get it. You'd give it to him no matter what. You'd give him everything.

So you pushed yourself off the car with a hard breath and trailed around to the passenger side, keeping your eyes on the ground even as you heard Bradley shuffle and open the driver's door because you knew that if you looked at him, no matter how much you wanted to follow his commands, there was a high chance you wouldn't be able to help yourself.

It wouldn't be the first time.

The seat felt hot and your skin sticked to it immediately and you would have cared in any other situation, but not in this one. Not when Bradley put his hand to your thigh, to your bare skin, to just below the hem of your dress. You could have cried.

He was here, finally, and he was touching you, finally, but he wasn't touching you enough, not nearly enough. This would be a long ten minutes. You pushed your sunglasses up into your hair, turned your head and rested it against the head rest, smiling at the image before you - Bradley in the driver's seat of his Bronco, the steering wheel in one hand, the sun on his face, his curls longer than when you'd last seen them. Had he got more tan? Was that possible?

God, how you'd missed this man.

And he was here now, here, next to you, with one hand on your thigh and a grin playing on his lips and you couldn't help but smile. Big and broad and all-consuming because he was here again, this man that you called yours, he was right here next to you after four months. You loved him. You'd missed him so incredibly much.

His hand moved a little higher up on your thigh, his thumbs brushing, stroking over exposed skin, raising up your dress the slightest bit. Your breath hitched.

"Bradley-", you sighed, jaw clenching as you melted, melted at every little touch because you didn't have to only remember it anymore. You could just push up into him, watch him, breathe in his familiar scent, run your fingers along his arm. This was no more imagining, no more picturing, this was real, this was happening.

"God, I missed you saying my name like that", he groaned, tightening his grip on your thigh and you bit down on your lip, wrapped your fingers around his biceps, his wrist, forced yourself to keep your eyes open so you could keep watching him. You wouldn't miss out on a single second of watching him.

"Bradley", you repeated softly. "I'll say your name as often as you want me to."

His fingers dug even harder into your thigh as he let out some strangled sounding moan.

"You're gonna be the death of me", he muttered - how often you'd thought the same about him! "I'm lucky if I can hold out these ten minutes."

You watched him quietly for a second. You could sense the heat radiating off of him, could see his clenched jaw, could feel his deathgrip on your thigh, could hardly ignore the blazing arousal in your own veins. But if he'd wanted to fuck you in the back of his Bronco, he would've. (As picky as he was about who drove his car, he'd never had a single problem railing you into oblivion in the backseat.) There was a reason he was holding out. You could only guess that he wanted to do this properly - with time and room and no risk of getting caught by the authorities. Should you have minded? Should you have begged him to take you as quickly as possible? You were sure he would have, if you'd pleaded prettily enough. But you were quite alright with time and room and no risk of getting caught. At least for right now. The both of you would manage a ten minute ride, right? You had managed four months. Ten minutes were nothing in comparison.

"Okay", you said, trailed your fingers down to his and intertwined your hands. "I'll help. I'll tell you something. Distract you."

"You can try, honey", he chuckled, sneaked a quick sideways glance at you. "Tell me about the house."

You lit up at that. You had been dying to tell him about the house. So you pushed your arousal deep, deep down (which was easier said than done) and smiled up at him.

"I don't even know where to start", you said honestly, giving yourself a second to think about it. You had ten minutes, after all. And you had to fill them all if you wanted both of you to survive this drive.

So you told him about everything.

The short version, of course.

He'd heard some of it over the phone already, but he hadn't been able to call often and you'd spent most of your time crying and telling him how much you loved and missed him when he had answered, so...

The ten minutes went by more easily this way. You went on and on and on and on about the house, his fingers between yours, your eyes locked on his, with the occasional comment about how sorry he was that he hadn't been there to help. It had been unfortunate, of course, but at the same time it had given you something to put all your time and effort into, which had greatly helped you through his deployment. Plus, there had always been help when you had needed it - Penny and Amelia and Mav, Phoenix and Bob and Jake. The rest of the squad had been scattered, called off to their own missions, but those six you had been able to count on whenever.

Bradley's hand on your thigh was still highly distracting. He moved it up and down a few times, and each time your breath hitched, each time you stumbled over your own words, each time he grinned again.

At one point, his fingertips brushed so close to your underwear that you pushed his hand forcefully back down to your knee. He had been the one so worried he wouldn't manage a ten minute ride and now he was the one teasing you.

Not that you really minded.

But you truly felt like going insane.

Then, finally! you caught sight of your driveway. Bradley was out of the car the second he'd parked it, pulling his hand from your thigh and the key out of the ignition and you had barely unbuckled yourself when he was already opening your door, taking your hand and tugging you out, sending you stumbling into him, into his arms.

He pressed his lips to yours as he pushed the door close, pushed you up against it again, pushed the hem of your dress up to grasp at your bare thigh. You wrapped your arms around his neck, forced him even closer.

"Bradley", you gasped softly. You hadn't moaned his name like that in four months, you'd do it so often today he would get tired of it. Even though you knew that he wouldn't, of course - he would never get tired of you whispering his name into his mouth, into the nothingness of an empty room, into his ear, into the pillows.

He didn't pull back from you, even as he took a slow, careful step away - making sure you'd catch on, making sure you'd follow, making sure to keep you safely, steadily against him. Not that you'd have done anything else. You trusted him with your life, you would trust him to keep you upright. So you did just what he wanted, followed, stumbled with him, eyes closed, lips on his, fingers brushing along his shoulders.

He did pull back then - just an inch or two, to turn you around, to look over your shoulder once, to tear his hand from your thigh and wrap his arms around you instead. And then his lips were back on yours again and his tongue running along yours. He pushed and you followed his wordless command, your legs working quicker than your mind, stumbling, tripping backwards, backwards, backwards and you barely cared, barely even acknowledged the ground beneath your feet because you were wrapped up in his arms, because you were tugging at his curls, because he was here, kissing you, finally.

You weren't needy.

You were desperate. You were depraved, frantic, starved. He was the air you needed to breathe and you hadn't taken a single breath in the past four months.

So you weren't pretending in the way you pulled him close, closer, closer, or in the frenzied way you kissed him, or in the desperate way you sighed, groaned, moaned against him, into him. You needed him. You needed more of him. All of him. You needed to get inside so you could have him.

You bumped into the door then, just short of digging the doorknob into your spine - Bradley pushed you right up against it and you gasped into his mouth, into the kiss. He crowded you against the door much like he'd crowded you against the Bronco, pulling his arms from around you to grasp your waist instead, to press your hips up to the door as well, and used one hand to fumble for the keyhole. He did so blindly, with his eyes still closed, his lips still on yours, with one of your legs coming up to wrap around his hips, your heels digging into his shorts.

Needless to say, he needed quite some time to turn the key.

You didn't mind. Not in the slightest.

You were making out with Bradley Bradshaw right on the doorstep of the house you shared with him, in the bright afternoon sunlight and truly, you couldn't have minded less. You didn't give two fucks about any of your neighbours or any passerbys spotting you - should they, by god! Bradley had come home from deployment after four months, you would make out with him on your doorstep for as long as you wanted to. You wouldn't ever stop making out with him ever again.

Not when he was here again, in your arms, with your fingers tugging at his hair, brushing along his neck, stroking along the collar of his shirt, sweeping along his shoulders. Not with your leg around his hips. Not with your lips on his. Not with anticipation, with arousal in every fibre of your body, of your soul. You were going mad with it. You were getting drunk on it.

You were euphoric when Bradley finally opened the gods damned front door.

He kept you safe and steady even as the support at your back broke away, as you almost crashed onto the floor of your own hallway. He walked you back into the pleasant cold and for once, for the first and probably the only time, you were the one to break away. You gave yourself a second to catch your breath. Then you pushed off of him completely. You took a step away, pulled the key from the door, pushed it close and when you turned back around, Bradley had set his sunglasses down on the little table you had put next to the coat rack a few weeks ago.

And you looked him in the eyes for the first time in four months.

He motioned at the table.

"Looks great, honey", he said, his voice a little too rough to sound quite normal. "Nice touch."

You shook your head softly.

"I couldn't care less about the table right now", you muttered, and with that, you were on him again. Actually, truly, fully on him again. You pushed yourself right up onto him, into him, pried his shirt off his shoulders, off his arms, let it drop down to the ground and then reached for his jaw to drag him further down, to deepen the kiss even if you knew that was impossible. So you bit down on his lip and allowed him to finally push your dress up over your hips, over your chest, over your head - you had to let go of him for a moment then, had to pull away from him so he could drop your dress on the floor and before you could even come close to reaching out for him again, he was taking a step back.

You could feel his eyes raking down your body. You could feel him taking in the white lingerie on your skin - the strings of the thong high up on your hips, intricate lace around your waist, the small bow right in the centre of it, the bra cups almost transparent, the floral white pattern covering up your nipples, the other few, small bows sown onto the straps.

You sucked in a breath at the look on his face. You hadn't seen that look in far too long.

"God, honey", Bradley groaned, reached for your waist, brushed his thumbs along the lace, ran his fingertips along the lingerie. You bit down on your lip as he pulled you, slowly, carefully, into him - gave you enough time to rest your hands on his chest, your palms against his tank top. "You look sinful. Did you buy that just for me?"

You nodded, swallowed.

"Just for you", you admitted. "Wanted to surprise you."

Bradley tugged you another inch closer, so close that your chest bumped into his, your breasts pressing against him. He let out a hum, his eyes dropping down to your cleavage.

"You did that, pretty girl", he muttered, his fingers digging into your sides. "You're incredible."

Then his lips were on yours again and you were melting, becoming putty in his hands, turning to goo in his arms. Your breaths met, lips parted. You couldn't quite believe you were finally touching him again.

He walked you back to the bedroom, narrowly avoiding the doorway, his hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your bum. You reached for the hem of his shirt, forced him to stop right on the threshold so you could get rid of it - get rid of that one layer of fabric still in the way. You drew back for a second to pull it over his head, to drop it to the floor, to let your eyes travel all over his bare torso.

God, how you'd missed this man and his broad shoulders and his washboard abs. How you'd missed his touch and the sound of his voice.

"Bradley", you gasped softly, your fingertips trailing over his naked skin, down to his shorts. "I need you."

He let out a groan.

"I've waited four months for you to say that again", he muttered. You could hardly take another breath before he was on you again - lips on yours and hands on your hips and your back hit the bed a moment later, the cushy mattress, the fluffy pillows softening your fall.

You raised yourself up onto your elbows so you could watch him as he stood in front of your bed, the sunlight dripping down him like drops of water hitting the floorboards, his torso bare, his curls messed up, looking down at you with a heaving chest, his fingers on his belt, unhooking it, opening the button on his jeans, pulling down his zipper - you swallowed hard as you watched him drop his shorts on the floor, step out of his shoes.

A whine rolled off your tongue.

"Bradley, hurry up", you whimpered, your fingers cramping in the sheets, your legs pressing together all of their own accord, trying to get some kind of friction as he undressed himself in slow motion while you just lay there, your panties long soaked through and your fingers itching to trail down your own body.

Bradley chuckled.

"Don't worry, honey", he muttered, kneeling down on the ground to drop kisses to your calves before pulling off your sandals. "I'll make sure you forget about the past four months, alright?"

Your breath hitched as your heels hit the ground.

"Please", you begged softly. "I've missed you so much."

He wrapped his hands around your hips, pulled you to the edge of the bed - his breath ghosting over your underwear, over that tiny white piece of lingerie you had bought for him, for him to take you apart in. His fingers dug into your skin, spread out wide, to touch as much of you as he possibly could. He pressed a kiss right to that wet spot on your thong.

You let out a moan. God, how had you survived four months without him? You were barely surviving fifteen minutes of not having him fuck you.

Bradley grinned, raised his head to meet your eyes and seriously, you were close. Too close. He hadn't touched you yet, not really. You'd die today, you were sure, die and go to heaven.

"You look almost too good to undress, honey", he muttered, brushing his thumbs below that lace around your waist, not making a move to pull it down your legs.

"Bradley, please", you whined, your hands brushing over your own chest, running over your bra cups, tracing the flowers, desperately holding back from just ripping everything off yourself, pushing him onto his knees and riding him into oblivion. "Don't tease. I need you."

He groaned into the skin of your thigh.

"Anything you want, honey", he muttered - and then your thong was gone and he was burying his tongue inside you, dipping, tracing, licking, circling your clit, breathing you in, devouring you. Taking and giving everything. It had been four months since he'd had you like this and he wanted everything, every inch of you he could get. He wanted to taste you, every last drop of you, wanted to eat you out until you couldn't think anymore, until you had truly, fully forgotten all the time he had been away, all the time you had been forced to be on your own, alone.

You thrashed, moaned above him - your fingers clenching around your bra, brushing over your nipples. You were close. Close after the entirety of three seconds, close to tears, close to coming.

"Bradley", you choked out, tearing your hands off yourself, burying them in his hair instead - tugging him off, tugging him away from you. You took a deep breath as he let go of you, as he loosened his grip on you, looked up at you with desperation in his eyes.

"I need you to fuck me", you whimpered, already too sensitive, too tense. "I need you inside me."

You hadn't had him in four months.

Four months had been enough goddamn foreplay. As much as you loved when he ate you out, you needed him, you needed his cock, you needed to feel him inside you, you needed him to take you apart and make up for all the time lost.

Bradley nodded, nodded because he knew, he understood - he saw the frantic look in your eyes, had felt the desperate drag of your hands at his clothes, his arms, his shoulders, his hair. He'd give anything to you. Everything. He would do whatever you wanted of him.

Maybe in another situation he'd have made you beg more, would have teased you more, would have edged you a few times. Maybe in another situation. But not in this one. Not after four months of being away from you, not when you were so beautifully, so desperately spread out beneath him, looking up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks, your lip pulled between your teeth, your gorgeous white lingerie still concealing too much of your skin.

As he'd said, you were almost too gorgeous to undress. But just almost.

So he rose up from the ground, pulled you up with him, pulled you in, his fingers brushing along your sides, your spine, your bra clasp. He let it fall open. You worked fast, worked your bra down your arms and off your hands and drew back from him to fling it against the wall and lay down on the bed, lay down all pretty and waiting.

You needed him to fuck you. Now.

He let out a groan, closed his eyes. The look on his face had you pressing your legs together again. Wetness was coating the inside of your thighs now. It glistened on his moustache. And you were sure you could have tasted it on his tongue too.

He was making you go insane.

"How do you want me, pretty girl?", he asked, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress. "Tell me how and I'll do whatever you want."

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your nerves were bubbling up. Four months. You'd waited four months for this one question.

"Behind", you whined. "Need you from behind."

Bradley had known, of course, because that was what you always said when he stood at the front of your bed and asked you this question. His hands were on your waist, grasping, grabbing, turning you over before you had fully finished speaking, your cheek pressed against the pillows, your breath coming short and shorter, adrenaline pumping through every single one of your veins. You felt hot and sticky and needy and nervous.

Nervous because Bradley stilled.

Nervous because he sucked in a sharp breath.

Nervous, even though you had been here a million times before, in his bed and in yours, bent over desks and bars and couches, with the heat of him behind you, arousal flowing through your body like oxygen, anticipation clouding your mind.

"Shit, honey", Bradley breathed.

You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw.

How you'd have loved to see his expression. But you had known you wouldn't. You had prepared yourself to be satisfied with the sound of his voice, with the feel of him so close to you.

"Shit", Bradley repeated. He took another deep breath in. "You got a tattoo?"

A tattoo.

Your tattoo.

You nodded into the pillow, scraped your cheek against the fabric, so eager, so quick to agree. Four months you had waited for this. Four months since you had begun planning this - the very day after he'd left, in a conversation with none other than Phoenix. Four long, lonely months.

Bradley ran his thumb along the soft expanse of your skin. Along that strip of skin right above your hips, just where they met your back - right above your ass, right where he could see so very perfectly.

He was gentle. Almost not touching you at all. As though he was afraid he could somehow, even after all this time, hurt you, as though he was afraid he could wipe it away.

"It's healed", you whined, breathlessly, trying your hardest not to squirm, not to push back further into him even though you felt like you were going insane. You'd known he'd take his sweet time staring at that inked expanse of skin. But you hadn't known you would be so goddamn desperate for him to fuck you into delirium while he did so. "It's fully healed."

Bradley was quiet, silent behind you. His thumb stilled, stayed still. You sunk your teeth into your lip.

You would truly go mad here. For more than one reason now.

Bradley was always loud. Always moving, always doing something. He was forward and honest and loud and it was a miracle, really, when he wasn't. When he was calm and quiet and still. It didn't always mean something good.

It surely didn't always mean something bad, either.

But it didn't always mean something good.

And you hadn't been nervous. You hadn't been nervous about showing him, because you knew he loved you and he'd love this - this show of him, this show for him. Just for him. But you had still been fidgety. You had still been excited, flustered.... nervous, after all. In a good way. Now, good was turning to less good because he was quiet, for once, quiet and you didn't know what to do, what to say. You had expected him to go feral, had expected him to fuck you raw, to go absolutely ballistic. You had imagined, pictured, visualised it, four months long. Every night that you hadn't been remembering him, you had been imagining this - this moment right here, where he read the words inked forever into your skin, and every time, again and again, your fingers hadn't been enough, your vibrator hadn't been enough, nothing had been enough. Not in comparison to him, to his fingers and his tongue and his cock.

And every time, again and again, when nothing had been enough to replace him, you thought to yourself just how right it had been to have lain on that leather table bed in that tattoo parlour four months ago. Just how right it was to have him marked on your skin like that. Forever.

Great Balls Of Fire.

"Bradley, please", you whimpered, your fingers closing around whatever piece of fabric you could manage to grab at - the covers, the sheets, the pillows. "Say something. Please"

Bradley let out a long breath.

"Great Balls Of Fire?", he asked quietly, his fingers brushing over your skin again. Some kind of reassurance, at least.

"Thought you'd like it", you mumbled into the pillow, stumbling, tripping over your words a bit, still breathless around the edges. You couldn't be expected to talk now. Not when he was so close to giving you what you needed.

"Like it?" His hands wrapped around your waist, his left thumb still stroking over those unfamiliar familiar letters on your skin - Great Balls Of Fire, in his handwriting, taken from one of his sheets of music, from his piano. His song. His father's song.

Your song.

"Honey", Bradley rasped, pulling you an inch back to him and you let a whine fall from your lips. You were soaked, you were dripping, you were desperate and still so very unsatisfied. "Do I like it? I love it. I love you. God, you got a tattoo. You're incredible. You're-"

He stumbled over his own words, trailed off, left his sentence hanging unfinished in mid air. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a kiss right on top of your tattoo. Right on top of those letters, on top of that song, on top of your song. On top of the very reason you had met, six years ago in a stuffed navy bar.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me", he muttered, dropping another kiss onto your skin.

You whimpered again.

"You've been so good to me, honey, haven't you?", he went on, as though he wasn't hearing those little whines, those little moans rolling off your tongue. He was. You knew that. "You waited so prettily for me to come back, didn't you? You were so eager for me to be home again, so eager for me to be with you again that you even got a tattoo?"

You nodded along, nodded and nodded and kept on nodding because yes, yes and yes - yes to everything, yes to him.

"You got a tattoo just for me, honey. You can't even see it. Probably had to twist and turn in the mirror every day to take care of it, didn't you? And all just for me."

You nodded again - never really stopped nodding, not with his fingers brushing along your back, over your skin, with his voice so deep and rough and real.

"Just for you", you whined.

Bradley chuckled.

"Just for me", he repeated, his voice deeper than before - if that was even possible - his fingers stroking along your sides, roaming over your back, your spine. "Such a good girl."

A shiver went through your entire body at that - through your legs, your arms, your shoulders, through every single one of your fingers and toes. He knew just what he did to you when he said that.

He knew.

"Bradley", you moaned, unashamed now, the nerves in your veins long subsided, replaced once more by that all-consuming heat that you could never get enough of.

"Yeah, honey?", he asked. You could hear the grin on his lips. "What do you want?"

You let out a sort of sob that sounded pathetic even to your own ears. It wasn't that you minded begging. Because you didn't. You really didn't. But you had already done so, had already begged him miserably, had told him so prettily how you wanted him to fuck you. And he was starting all over again.

"Just once more, honey", Bradley whispered, dropping kisses to your spine, climbing higher and higher. "Tell me once more and you'll get whatever you want."

"Fuck me", you cried out, burying your face in the pillow, not letting even half a second pass by. Bradley always made good on his promises. And you needed him more than anything right now. "Please fuck me."

He was on you within a heartbeat.

One hand around your waist, pulling you into him, as the other one guided himself into you. He pushed into you in one smooth movement, pushed his hips right to yours, stretched you out like he hadn't in four goddamn months.

You were clenching around him, moaning his name, tears brimming in your eyes at the feeling of him again, finally. He was grunting, groaning behind you, his hands clasping around your waist as he settled deep inside you and let out a breath.

You hadn't felt so stretched out in so long. You hadn't felt him in so long. You needed more. You needed to feel more of him.

"Bradley", you whimpered. "Move."

His fingers dug even firmer into your sides. You bit down on your lip. He felt so good, so heavenly with his hands on your skin and his cock deep inside you, but you needed him to move, you needed him to move now, you needed him to fuck you and make you fall apart for him.

"Need a second, honey", he grunted, running his thumbs along your skin - along your new tattoo, just for this, just for him. "God, pretty girl, you're so tight. Missed you so much."

You whimpered underneath him, whimpered as you forced yourself to keep still for him, even as your thighs burned with the need to move, the need for more, the need to finally come undone around him. You knew you were close already. You could feel it, had been feeling it, dancing around the edges of your perception, melting in your blood, scorching in your stomach.

"Missed you too, Bradley", you moaned into the pillow, breathless and desperate for him. "Want to be good for you. So good."

"God, honey, you are", he groaned. "So good. Perfect."

And then he was moving, finally, and you let out a sobbed kind of prayer, your eyes falling shut, your fingers digging into the sheets as he thrust in and out of you in a slow, steady rhythm - enjoying the feeling of you around him, letting you enjoy the feeling of him inside you.

Just that you couldn't enjoy this.

You couldn't enjoy this because you were wound so tightly, wound so goddamn tightly that tears were pricking in your eyes, threatening to run down your cheeks and drop onto the covers. You needed him to make you fall apart, to make you come, you needed more. Just a little more.

You were teetering on the edge and he had you spiralling with how slowly he was fucking you. You needed him to send you over that edge, not build it higher and higher and higher up.

"Bradley", you whined, stumbling clumsily over his name as he ran a hand up your back. "More."

"Dunno if I can-" He broke off, his breath hitching, his fingers resting on your neck, brushing through your hair. "Fuck, honey, dunno if I can do more without coming."

You bit down on your lip at that, let out a moan so absolutely filthy that you were sure you would have been embarrassed of it if you'd had any more capacity to think - to think of anything other than him, anything other than how this god, who could fuck you for hours on end without tiring once, with so much stamina he could have you sobbing, coming for him four, five times on his cock alone, how this god was so desperate for you after four months that he was worried he'd come if he went any faster.

You were almost pushed over the edge just by that alone.

"I don't care", you cried, because you really didn't. "I don't need long, I need you. I'm so close."

Bradley grunted, his fingers brushing even higher up on your scalp.

"You're gonna be the death of me, honey", he muttered, just before he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up onto your knees - into him, into his arms, your back flush to his chest. You dropped your head against his shoulder with a moan, let your eyes fall shut again.

He thrust up into you with vigor then, with more urgency, with less fear of coming undone, less fear of cutting this short. His hands smoothed over your sides, over your chest, holding you up against him, brushing along your breasts, along your stomach.

And all you could think was yes, this, this was it. This was what you had been imagining, what you had been picturing in a cold, lonesome bed every night, what you had been so desperate for.

His fingers trailed down your thigh, trailed up again, caught on your clit, drew a circle against that little bundle of nerves and you fell forward, doubled over, only held up by him, by his arms around you as you came undone, as you clenched around him.

Four months.

Four months and a tattoo.

And he hadn't even had you there for two minutes, had barely touched you, and now you were falling apart for him, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, legs burning, fingers cramping. You'd waited four months for this.

You could feel him spilling inside you, noticed it somewhere dancing around the edges of your perception as you gasped for breath, tears stinging your cheeks and your nails digging into your own thighs.

This.

Him.

Bradley's finger had stilled on your clit. You blinked your eyes open, refocused on your green wallpaper, on the pictures, the old vintage polaroids of you and him right above the bed until you could see them all clearly again, until you could see them and realise what they were, until you could manage to tilt your head back and rest it, once more, against Bradley's shoulder. Until you had come back to reality again.

"I missed you so much, honey", he muttered into your ear, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss onto your exposed neck. "Missed this so much."

"Missed you so much too", you mumbled, reached for his hands. He pulled his finger from your clit, let you intertwine your hands with his, rested them carefully on your stomach. "Love you, Bradley."

He pressed another kiss to your neck, his lips warm, oh so warm on your skin, soft and warm and you needed him to kiss you now, to press his lips to yours.

"I love you too, honey", he whispered, halfway to brushing another kiss onto your skin when you turned your head, met his lips with your own, cut him off by surprise.

This was a weird angle, you had to strain your neck to even slot your lips together somewhat well and you were sloppy with it, too, your chest still heaving and your mind returning to clarity just now, but you didn't care, couldn't care, not when he'd just made you come, when he was holding you in his arms, when he was finally here, right behind you again, as though the last four months hadn't happened at all.

When you pulled back, you were feeling more normal again - as normal as you possibly could feel, with him behind you, with him inside you still.

"You got a tattoo", Bradley breathed, a grin dancing around the corners of his lips. You chuckled.

"Just for you", you nodded, brushing your fingertips up his arms, up to his elbows.

Bradley kissed you again, all parted lips and breathing into each other. You felt almost melancholic when he drew back. But he was smiling - and when he smiled, you had to smile too.

"I'm never letting you go again", he said, loosened his grip on you to trail his hands slowly, softly down your body, giving you enough time to steady yourself without him holding you up anymore. "And I'm not letting you leave this bed until the sun comes up, alright, pretty girl?"

You had to bite down on your lip to keep from grinning, anticipation already bubbling in your veins again. You knew he could make good on that promise. And that he probably would.

"Yes, please, Bradley", you muttered, already bending down again, splaying out your hands to catch yourself on the mattress as you showed him your tattoo again, just for him to see, just for him to touch. Just for him. "Whatever you want. As long as you want. I love you."

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #top gun #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #x reader

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kyri45 · 4 months ago

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✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 08/10✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: I feel like in cannon baby MK was the kind of kid to eat glue, mainly because he hatched from a rock and doesn't know what anything is.

isn’t it like how all babies are? I think I also used to eat glue

@purpleprinceblood ha chiesto: In the spicynoodles bit where you explain how Red Son was charmed by Mk's beautiful personality and kind nature (/silly), you said Mk is Demi sexual Do you have other sexuality headcanons for the cast, or is it just "they're gay for each other"?

Pan for Mei, Bi for Redson, both Wukong and Macaque are in a way pan, in the sense that they don’t really care about gender, but are only gay for each other.

@kehideni ha chiesto: Whatever happened with never drawing a background ever again? :D On a more serious note: may we know the exact relation of DBK and Chiyou(did i spell that right?)? I'm just the nosy type :3

Chiyou has 72 brothers, one of them is an ancestor of DBK

@marcusalexander ha chiesto: I have a question is spider queen in your comic, and if so, is she like a part of the team or enemy or anuite? I'm just curious since she isn't that evil. By the way, I love your comic shadowpeach parents

The AU is set after S5, so I guess she’s enemy

Anonimo ha chiesto: Macaque HAS to be doing a little happy dance in the bio parents AU that murder isn’t considered distinct from self-defense Imagine being like… a legitimate threat to the world around you, and getting put down to defend it, and then being hailed as “the less bad one” because you were killed But this also means that MK probably views himself as a murdered for killing the LBD/Azure Lion too cause again “killing in self defense/defense of others= murder

most likely MK feels super duper guilty for what he did, and will continue to be until he get some extra comfort.

@goldenthecat ha chiesto: I'm wondering, since you watch lmk do you watch other Lego shows too? Like Ninjago or friends

does having saw the ninjago movie and a 4 hours video essay recap about the first 14 season count?

@haruwashere29 ha chiesto: Did wukong put his head over macaque’s chest to hear his heartbeat? 😭😭😭

OH OK NOW WE ARE ON WITH THE ANGST. YES 100%

Anonimo ha chiesto: You said Wukong is warm , change my mind that macaque has absolutely put his cold feet straight on wukongs back while he was sleeping not just cause he was cold but because he thought it was funny

hehe he has cold feet poor boy.

@og-glitch-punk ha chiesto: I'm haunting you at thisnpoint im so sorry but your lmk comic gives ideas and thoughts bro lmao /gen SO HERES ANITHER THOUGHT... If you technically think about it, MK is basically an clone (not but words are EHHH) of Sun wukong because they came from the sane rock. But what about our spooky Macaque? We have no knowledge of how he came to be but we all may assume it's the same way with MK and Wukong. but.. BUT. If Macaque had his own stone somewhere in the shadows then what if there's an basically MK but Macaque verison? Even if not, that would be wild to think about lol

like a slightly more emo version of MK? Something like the OK KO situation?

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hello I just wanted to say I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR COMIC it's sooooo good I'm obsessed and the recent part... I have no word only emotion Even though I use Tumblr for a while I still getting use to it so.. do you know any other Shadowpeach comics? I couldn't find any 😅

mmmm @kristea9ay is doing a shadowpeach parent story that’s really cute!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I NEED to see wukong and macaque having a cute moment and accidentally touch each others tails yk? 🥺🥺🥺 (and mk quitting is a stab to the chest, i dont think there is anything worse in store... Right?... RIGHT?!)

at this point they ain’t touching the tails “accidentally” anymore these bitches are too gay I can’t anymore-

@amyrosewithoutshadow ha chiesto: I think the next one that will need Sandy is Wukong, lol I always thought about one thing, how Wukong deal with traumas and crises? We only saw him dealing with it during his sleep, but what about a daylight crises? Love your art 💞

he has a “I can do it with a broken heart”-by-taylor-Swift-masking situation.

@alizardonfire ha chiesto: I understand why MK doesn't want to be their successor mostly because I think he needs time to think about all of it. There's a lot to unpack! I love how wukongs more shocked about it. And I think macaque kinda saw it coming?

i think Mac forseen that MK would have changed his view on Wukong for sure. But he didn’t know in which way.

@siennabanana ha chiesto: HDBDJDBDHSHDV NEW HEADCANON UNLOCKED: sometimes he misses his human form but he doesn’t tell wukong and macaque bc he feels like that would be an insult to them and plus he still thinks his monkey form is cool but eughhh dysphoriaa

awwww he might be sometimes! Good thing they are starting to hang out outside FFM as well!

@blazerratbluefire-blog ha chiesto: If Wukong ever manages to be able to control his kaiju form, I could easily see Macaque's kaiju form using him as a bed, and along comes MK wanting in on the action. Then, he proceeds to lay on top of Macaque, squishing him with his kaiju and making a wholesome monkey family bonding session. With Wukonh laughing that Macaque is being squished. Just a funny thought I had.

oh my I think he would be waaayyy to big for the other two ahah

Anonimo ha chiesto: For your LMK shadowpeach AU will Ironfan be making up for all of MK's birthdays she missed? (Dropping off a mountain of presents at FFM?) (My partner joked she would give Redson in a box, not in a bow or anything just in an open box like a cat.)

she would probably make a courtnapping room for her son to gift him, and Red Son would die from embarrassment right there.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Dose macaque sometimes cook for MK and wukong since wukong tends to eat his fur/hair and macaque fonts approve of it

I think yes, he would cook probably really basics but nutrient-full meals, the few times they don’t eat noodle from pigsy shop

Anonimo ha chiesto: TCan we get Red Son and MK Angst because Red Son technology tried to kill MK a lot of times?

just bc of the AU main plot I don’t think so, also bc at this point traffic light trio are all friends with each other.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Speaking of birthdays, I assume Pigsy and Tang celebrate when MK showed up in their life or a random day when MK first asked about his birthday. Would Wukong and Macaque ask Nuwa the day he was put in the rock/broken out of it (I assume he came out and was immediately brought to Pigsy the same day but idk) or is that sort of a sore subject still, with the whole harbinger thing?

I think the best thing would be to celebrate it the day they found it!

@yuk1yun ha chiesto: Giuro che è un mese che provo a rendere il mio cosplay di mk simile alla tua au (perché anche se è semplice è stupendo), ma non so come fare le orecchie... Sono di nuovo qui per dirti quanto adoro la rua au btw :)

ADUYDJYTDY SE HAI BISOGNO DI RIFERIMENTI FAMMI SAPERE! E MANDAMI IL RISULTATO QUANDO HAI FINITO!!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: I'm just waiting until Mk realizes the other things Wukong and Macaque did, yk like what Sun did to Redson, what Mac did to some of the monkeys all that

I think with time MK will slowly learn everything, but for example I guess now Red Son and Wukong are at truce

Anonimo ha chiesto: I'm just obsessed with your shadowpeach comics!!✨✨ But heey~ how about bai he!? l think it will be super amazing if add her in the future to this little cute monkeys family

awww baby!! I hope she went back to her family honestly! But I also hope sometimes she visits MK!

@yainmy ha chiesto: Oh gods I when I found this bio parents au I got HOOKED. I love it so much and the shenanigans and the angst are just *chef's kiss*. I have some curious questions if you don't mind me asking, but if a similar situation happens in the future like when mk got baby-fied, but instead his forms get split up (human and monkey demon) would he have that child crisis of fear "if im not this certain way they wont want me as theirs anymore", considering he is still learning about the whole monkey business? Also in a shenanigans sort of question, I don't remember how stone monkeys are made in their world but it would be hilarious if mk asked wukong and macaque that since they both are male and they technically "had" him then does that mean they can give him a sibling if they wanted? Sorry if it's to long of an ask 😅

i think MK would mostly feel a sense of loss for the fact that in a way, things should have been like this, like when he “hatched” Wukong probably would have found him if it wasn’t for the fact someone or something brought it to Pigsy shop. He would have grown up with someone who could tell him how to be a stone Monkey and teach him his power. Surely, I think Wukong wouldn’t have been as good as a parent as Pigsy, and MK doesn’t regret a bit how things actually ended up happening, but it’s a bit of a case of “sometimes I imagine how my life would have been if it went this way”

Anonimo ha chiesto: I know it's a bit out of the scope of your comic, but I'm wondering if Mei's design is just stylistic additions as if they were always there due to her dragon heritage, or if you have any ideas of scenes that took place as she grew more dragon features?

she started to grow more and more into them after she was accepted by her family sword and started to use her dragon form more and more.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Do you ever think Macaque and Wukong argue over who the little monkeys on the mountain like more? Like Im 100% sure Macaque wouldn't really care but the idea of not being the favorite bothers Wukong

the monkeys go crazy for soft fur Mamacaque. Wukong will always be pissed at this.

@snsp6 ha chiesto: do u like the hc that Mac has naturally snow-white fur? cs when u showed him wo glamours I realized that u don’t rlly color anything so I wanted to ask if it was still black or some type of mix between the two

akjdkajsbkaj I love for that shit YES. Yeah I don’t really colour my comics but yeah he cover it with glamour

Anonimo ha chiesto: I don't think MK ever really acknowledged that Wukong is a person, still a glorified deity. As mentioned MK hasn't really read the actual book and really didn't know his flawed side. MK has seen the worst parts of Macaque and still accepted him.

and now he knows about Wukong worst oarts and still accept him :D

@alistairliddell ha chiesto: What is FFM?

Flower Fruit Mountain

#ask box #shadowpeach bio parents au

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