#hard to believe. folks say it's like… he did that so that he could get bidoof some friends Naturally or whatever but i just don't feel like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

millerscoffee · 9 months

Note

Hello!! 🤍 I was wondering if you could write something where Joel is the reader’s college professor, and then Prof. Miller INSISTS that reader comes over to his home for tutoring assistance, (because of failed tests or bad essays), and then finally coaxes her into letting him have his way with her.

hi nonnie! here it is! i hope you enjoy 💖

extra credit

6.2k | joel miller x afab!reader (professor!joel au)

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: professor!joel au, age gap (joel is 46, reader is 21), soft!dom joel, pining, consensual sex, pet names (darlin', doll, baby), oral (f receiving), face riding, fingering, piv (unprotected, wrap it folks), squirting, joel spitting over the reader's ass for 0.5 seconds (OOPS IDK???), a pretty dress with easy access, hints of after care, spoiler: honestly prof. miller could've told reader to just do the paper in a different format but – that's the point 🤭

When you picked your major, English was a necessary credit needed to achieve your goals. It wasn’t your strong suit, but you weren’t one to quit just because you were bad at it. So far you were coasting through, getting a mix of good and bad grades in your English Lit class when the last essay before finals was presented.

Among the crowd in Professor Miller’s lecture hall, you typically sat in the front. He hands out papers, hovering by your desk. Giving you a look of disapproval, he places the grade face down. You peel the pages in anticipation, a sense of dread falling over you when you scan the big, red mark of failings. “Shit,” you say to yourself. That was it. That was the grade that was the defining factor of whether or not you had to retake this course. You use the side of your hand to wipe sneaky tears in falling. You failed. Doing your best to keep it together, you’re not sure you even heard the rest of the lecture from the possibilities running through your mind. What were you to do? How would you recover?

Class was over before you knew it. The sounds of bags zipping and feet stepping, you stayed seated until you were able to look over to Professor Miller. Dressed in black slacks, a brown button-up with leather shoes. His hair was slick, the slightest bit of salt and pepper patched at his sideburns. He looked like he had it all figured out, and that struck a nerve. A feeling of jealousy that he knew what he was doing, and you obviously did not.

Professor Miller calls your name when the class is emptied, and you sniffle, standing up to straighten your skirt. Your manicured nails pick up your essay as you walk over in an attempt to hand it to him. “I guess you want this back,” you hold your full bottom lip between your teeth.

“Did you read the material?” Professor Miller inquires, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. His voice is so dark and honied in comparison to his scowl. Proving not to judge a book by its cover. The irony.

“Well, I did, but… I struggle with this stuff. Predicates and imagery? I’d rather be learning about biology. But I need this course, you know. And I…,” you swallow hard. God, the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself in front of your teacher. He doesn’t know you, out of the hundreds of people he teaches – how could he possibly even remember your name?

“Hey,” Professor Miller takes his glasses off, putting them on the table. He looks as concerned as you are over it and crosses his arms. Keeps his distance. “It happens, you know. There are things we can do to accommodate. You’re very bright, I’d hate to see you fail. You have options. I can’t let you rewrite the paper, but I could tutor you for your final. Another option is getting a student tutor, but it’s rare. You know the workload of this university. Not a lot of people are willing to sacrifice their precious time.”

“And you are?” You look up at him with grateful, bright eyes and he loves it. The praise just from your stare alone is cause for him to clear his throat.

“Listen, for someone like you, I believe it is important to help. You just need a little more time understanding what you’re doing, is all. I’m not in my office for the rest of the weekend, though. You’d have to come by my house…,” he watches those pretty eyes widen again, and that makes a smirk fall over his greying features, “if that’s okay, of course. If it’s not, we could work something else out.”

You think about it. You’ve never had a teacher invite you over, much less someone who looked the way he did. Though, that was neither here nor there. His lips formed words you couldn’t even pay attention half the time in hearing. Maybe that was part of the reason why you were failing in the first place. But you needed to pass, and if he could help you – and was so kind enough to do it in the first place, you should jump at the first opportunity.

“Okay. Is there a particular time you’d like me to be there?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

What the fuck. That makes your heart race. Tonight? Tonight?! Ton–

“Tonight… tonight is good.” How did you even form the words?

“Perfect,” he started, bending down to write his address on a sticky note – his cologne wafts in your direction, and you clamp your legs shut reflexively. “Here’s my address. 7 o’clock.”

“Seven. Okay… thank you, Professor Miller.”

“Please, call me Joel.” His teeth gleamed in a smile, and his personality shined through it.

A personality you didn’t get to see too often from your position behind a desk.

Shit.

---

According to your phone, he didn’t live very far from campus, and you were able to walk to his house without breaking too much of a sweat. You decided on a black dress, although it was a casual one, that paired nicely with your sneakers. It had buttons down the front with a relaxed collar. Your bag slung over your shoulder when you knocked on his door, a nervousness fluttering in your stomach. It was such a weird thing, meeting your professor in his home. Much less having him request you call him by his first name.

Your knees all but buckled when you saw him on the other side of the door.

He looks… young in his jeans. His t-shirt stretched over the broadness of his shoulders, but it’s still loose enough that it doesn’t look ill-fitted. His stomach, soft at the bottom. You flash him a smile, but internally you’re reeling over how casual he looks. You’d never seen him like this, not even during those school meetings that were informal.

“Hey, you,” he’s bright, too. Charismatic as he invites you into his home. Takes your bag, lets you take your shoes off until you’re in your socks. His words hit your stomach, how easy it is for him to talk to you like you’re the brightest sunflower. What’d you even do to deserve it?

“Hi, Prof– uh, Joel,” you titter, taking in the curated decor of his home. It was sophisticated, yet a little cheesy at the same time. His alumni cover his walls and a mix of pictures. Some with a couple of young girls you assumed were his children. He has children, you swallow.

“Wasn’t too hard to find this place, right? When I moved here, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t too far – not much of a mornin’ person,” Joel laughs and you do, too. Fuck, this feels so easy. But it’s nothing – it’s nothing.

What you don’t pick up on right away is his open body language. He places your bag on his couch and you follow him like a puppy – he likes that. You look so soft under the sienna hue of his lights, your hair falling into place naturally. Plump and ripe for the taking. Of course, he meant it when he said he’d tutor you, but the air got thick the moment the door was shut behind the two of you. What were you doing to him?

Joel’s large frame walks over to his bar cart, turning on his heel to face you, “Interested?”

“Huh?” You blink and he laughs again at your deer caught in the headlights expression. You’re cute.

“Do you drink?”

“Oh, uh… water would be nice.”

“Water it is,” Joel’s pleasant, gesturing his hand for you to follow him. And you do – that puppy he was coming to know, right to his kitchen. You study the marble countertops, the farmhouse style kitchen sink.

“So, tutoring,” he starts, taking a glass from the cupboard, he fills it with filtered water before handing it to you – you thank him with a nod, “I was thinking we could look at your paper, and then go over how to fix things in the future?” When you take the water from him, your fingers graze. The first sign of contact, your head continues to nod unthinkingly, but all that scorches your mind is how his skin feels.

“That sounds good,” you overcompensate, shoving the ideas from your mind. He was your teacher, and it was easy to get back into the mode of why you were here.

Joel’s expression doesn’t change much, still the same grin with hooded eyes and wrinkles at his forehead. The two lines between his brow. “Alright, well I have it on the coffee table. Let’s get settled on the couch, and we’ll get started, okay?”

So you agree. You take your glass of water and follow him back to the couch where everything was set up – your paper, his laptop. All of the correction marks in your face as you sit down. You take another sip of water before placing it down on the coaster. You dread it, you really do. Going over your failures? You scrunch your nose up to yourself, but Joel notices when you’re both settled on the cushions.

“You know, Voltaire said, ‘perfect is the enemy of good’,” Joel bends his knee on the couch, thigh pressing into the cushion to turn to you and it causes the couch to shift. The quote makes you giggle a little to yourself, and you shake your head. “What?” His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

“Voltaire also popularised the story of Newton’s apple, doesn’t make it true.”

“Huh…,” Joel trailed off, keeping his eye on you – his tongue skating over his bottom lip in thought. You were so quick all he could really do was laugh, and that made your shoulders relax. Makes you feel more in control and comfortable to laugh at yourself. “You got an answer for everything?”

“Not everything. See this,” you pick up your paper, thumbing over the ink of corrections the man on the couch made and you shrug, “I don’t really understand why this got marked wrong.” Joel’s gaze flashes over your mouth when your teeth press into the plushness of your bottom lip – he should be given some damn award for having so much self control around you.

“Wrong format. This citation works for your research papers, right?” He nods with you before leaning in closer, that damn cologne coming back in full force just like earlier in the day. You all but freeze when his warm touch graces you again – this time, fingers tracing over where you’re holding the paper. “Oh,” your voice is soft, a bit of disappointment pangs at your ribs. You were so busy you didn’t even realise that was the majority of the issues you had.

“So… it’s not really what I wrote, it’s how I wrote it? You asked if I read the material?”

“Exactly. If you read the syllabus, you’d see the required format. Listen, there are some ways for extra credit, I do think this is salvageable.”

You suddenly feel silly.

You did all that work, Professor Miller was kind enough to let you into his home, and it was all for some redundant formatting. An open palm curls over your chin as you look at the paper in deep contemplation.

“I really fucked up,” you say, hushed in the space.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” you manage an exhale of amusement at the sound of your teacher curse. You shift your gaze to look at him. The curls at the nape of his neck, the way his t-shirt dropped enough so you could see his neck, his chest. The freckles that splayed over his aged skin. “You just needed someone to tell you what to do.”

That was the loaded statement. And a pointed one, it seems. Someone to tell you what to do. And Joel wanted to be that person? Your eyebrows raise for a flash, thumbing over the paper.

“That would be too easy,” you scratch at your neck idly before going for the glass of water, sipping in contemplation. “...I mean, I should’ve known better.”

Joel takes the glass from you, offering himself a sip of your water and it stuns you speechless, doing your best not to convey it. Maybe he did that just because this was his house. That must’ve been it. He was comfortable, but goddamn – the eye contact he gave you when he swallowed the liquid.

It felt intentional.

He watches your features, vague as they were, in what to do next. He honestly wasn’t so sure what he was doing either. What? I know how to give you extra credit, sweetheart. Too forward, too boastful, too… cheap. You deserved better than that. He saw you in class, how hard you were on yourself. He talked to your other teachers, how well you were doing in your other classes. He felt for you. And he was a bit lost in your eyes. You were all too pretty, too brilliant to be dimmed down to a fuck for extra credit. Joel could see that. He wasn’t even sure what he was thinking, you had him distracted. You threw him off without even trying. The plight within him grew stronger as he handed back the glass.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” Joel straightens up, his hand cups over your forearm in a way that’s understanding, but also makes goosebumps rise. You look down to see where you connect and he pulls away slightly. “Sorry, I–,” “No, it’s okay,” you agree, “It’s okay. You’re right.”

“It’s just, I see hundreds of bright, beautiful young people every year, but none of them have stood out to me like you.” He can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. The candor, the nerve. A filthy old man, that’s all he was in the eyes of someone as sweet and innocent as you were. Even if you happened to be experienced – god, what was he thinking?!

Joel clears his throat, shifting a bit in his seat, but he sees the way your lips part, but your eyes don’t show an ounce of shock or distain. They look soft, and… willing. You know that is because the pull at your core feels too strong to think of anything else. You look down at his left hand, making sure you’re not dreaming. He’s not married? You’d casually look at his hands from time to time during class and ignored the ache it gave you, but this? So close? Backed by the glow of his house? It was so different from the boys you were used to. In their dorms or disgusting apartments. It smelled as nice as it looked. You realise you’re not speaking, but the way you lean into him says more than you really ever could.

“I don’t know what to say,” shyly, you touch your knuckles to your cheek, “you should teach the guys that go here how to chat with someone.”

It’s a mutter, but not to yourself. You drink one more mouthful of what you were offered before putting it back on the coaster. Honestly, any distraction was welcome to defer from the ever-present density in the room.

“Those guys don’t know what they’re talkin’ about anyway. I know I didn’t at that age.”

There. The topic right in front of both of your faces.

“How old at you, anyway?” You inquire, thumb mindlessly circling over your knee. Joel tracks it, licking over his lips as he answers. “Forty-six. You?”

“Twenty-one.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

There’s this standstill, as if you’re both in the air together looking at each other in slow motion. How will this land? What are you both even doing here like this?

“I’m sure your boyfriend takes good care of you,” Joel’s eyes, round and bright brown, get lost in yours – the way your breath hitches, the shift of your thighs on his sofa. He wondered what you tasted like, what sounds you make when these boys who don’t know what they’re doing with their tongue attempt to eat you out. Do you fake it? Do you give it to them straight? Neither of you had a drink from that bar cart in the corner of the room, but somehow you’ve become closer – and more intoxicated.

“Don’t have one,” you respond softly, orbs flickering to the set of plush lips that grow more red the longer you let the tension build, “what about you? N-no partner?”

Your attempt in confidence wavering the longer he stares at you. It’s like staring back into the sun and you have your brows knit together until the tug of muscle makes your forehead hurt – smoothing them apart with the twitch of muscle fibers.

“No partner,” Joel’s hand settles on your thigh and you can’t hold it back; you gasp. But you do something he doesn’t anticipate, or well, you don’t do something: you don’t pull away.

How did you two get to the topic, anyhow?

How did you end up straddling his lap, for that matter?

It’s within six eager seconds that his hand, hot and rough, touches your soft skin, and you – green, you – fervent, throw all inhibitions aside and lunge. It’s more fluid than you realise, and his hands (both now) grip the backs of your bare thighs and you whimper at the sensation of him squeezing you. Your wetness against your cotton panties grows from the kneading alone. No, absolutely not, the boys back in the dorms didn’t know how to do this.

It takes an even shorter time for your mouths to meet. He’s first to kiss, and he tastes like coffee and his dinner, and the faintness of a cigarette – maybe early in the day? You couldn’t tell, your head was swimming too deep in now to come back from.

And although his calloused fingers roll patterns into your soft skin, he’s just as willing. Just as desireful and you can feel it beg to be set free at the seam of his jeans. His tongue skirts against yours, hips rolling up the second yours tempt to roll down; causing you both to moan in each other’s mouths.

It gets feverish after that. All teeth, tongue, bite.

You don’t want to stop, you don’t want to take a moment to breathe because fuck, that could stop things. That could make him realise what is happening.

But that only is another item to your list of naivety.

Because Joel, he’s ready. His masculine arms wrap around your frame to lift you up just enough so he can get out of his fucking jeans that he now regrets wearing. Shoulda been wearin’ sweats, but it’s effortless… eventually. He hurriedly pushes the thick fabric down until they hit at his thighs and you’re pushed down onto his boxers that – holy fucking shit – leave nothing to the imagination. “Joel, J-,” you pant between kisses, fingernails digging into the base of his neck, he pauses. Pulls away, gets a good look at your face.

“Y’want this?” And goddamn, you can’t see yourself, but you imagine you look just as fucked out as he does. On the cusp of every little fantasy he’s had about you from the moment you sat down behind that desk.

“I want this,” you repeat. You weren’t sure exactly when the nerves subsided, maybe because all of the blood is now rushed at the apex of your thighs, but you mean it.

You want this. You want Professor Miller.

“You got me,” his breath dances over your lips before guiding you back a bit, “here… I’m going to lie back, I want you to– I’ll show you.” Your lips quirk up at the fact he’s so flushed he can’t even finish his sentence.

But that soon turns to you flushing when you realise his request. “I – what?”

“No?” Joel sits up on his elbows, looking over to you and you’re worried you’ve killed the mood. It’s just, straddling his face? Blood rushes to your cheeks.

“I’ve never done that… What if it’s bad?” His eyes, reassuring, but a deep shade of black now beckons you.

“Darlin’, I think you’ll be a natural. But I can teach you, if that’s what you want.”

You swallow, straddling his knees somewhere at the bottom of the couch and you think about it.

Joel, on the other hand, was living in a fantasy of teaching you things in and out of school. Showing you how to make yourself feel good on his mouth – make you forget all about the essay that caused you grief today. He leans over, pushing it under the couch out of view for good measure.

“Okay,” you agree, though nerves still flood you. “Okay, you wanna take your panties off?” You lick your lips at that, biting back another whimper that brought you to this predicament in the first place. And you did – you wanted nothing more than to slip your underwear off and give into your pleasures. His voice was deep, graveled with the prospect of him fucking you senseless on his couch and who were you to deny him that?

Who were you to deny yourself that, more importantly.

“Yeah,” doing as you say, you slip off your lace-trimmed undies and abandon them somewhere on your Professor’s floor. “Fuck,” you mutter. This was naughty.

“Already so good for me,” you weren’t even sure that Joel’s voice could get deeper, or more inviting, but it does. You bite your lip and oblige when he pats his chest. Going over to him, you straddle just above his broad shoulders, and he’s almost out of view with him like this – somehow making it easier to just feel what he could do to you.

Joel on the other hand? All he can do is see the outline of your glistening core from the shadowed tent you’ve made of your dress and his groans are muffled slightly from the fabric, “Fuckin’ Christ,” he wants to devour you, but he takes his time instead.

Peppers kisses along your thighs that make you claw the armrest, causes you shiver at the contact and you can’t believe this is happening. “J-Joel,” you hesitate, but his hands are wrapped around your hips now, fingers digging into the breadth of your ass.

“Sit.” Joel commands.

Oh, fuck.

You’re almost certain you’ll break skin at your lips from biting down so hard, but you do as you’re told. Anchoring down, it’s subtle at first – the brushing of his facial hair against your folds, his chin prying you apart. Then, it’s incredibly palpable. His lips are the first thing you feel as they press and kiss over your middle and as you shudder it only makes your muscles sink deeper on him. You’re the first to moan, and then Joel, and his mouth is open when he invites you inside it.

“Oh, my god,” thighs shaking, Joel flattens his tongue under the hood of your clit, a body part you were certain hadn’t been touched by anyone else but yourself. There was no time to compare, the white hot pleasure coursed through your veins and he took his time with it, too. Made sure he was teasing you, his tongue dipping inside your entrance, as sloppy as it felt. “Hmmn,” you can’t speak, forearms resting on the armrest now as your head hangs between your shoulders and his fingers make pliable work of your asscheeks. Pushing you down, using your hips to move back and forth against his mouth – like he’s using you while you use him.

The air is thick under your dress, sticky and humid, as Joel swirls this tip of his devilish tongue in the most astonishing circles you’ve ever experienced, and you know it’s because he has more experience than you do. Has so much to teach you, if you let him. Your mouth hangs open as you try to inhale, but it’s just too much. Especially with the way he thumbs into your stomach, then your pubic bone – lifting it just slightly to expose your clit to him. An angle, not even you have found yourself.

It almost feels like too much. It’s intentional, the way his tongue flicks over that bundle of nerves right at the top of your cunt. Delicious, deliberate. Two fingers greet your entrance and it startles you, the way he’s rubbing your hole with his two fingers in slow circles before pressing them where you want them most.

“Tell me you want it,” you hear, muffled and fucked, and you shiver at the slightest bit of lack of contact.

“I want it, I want your fingers – please!”

And that seems to send him over the edge of how much he’s willing to hold back because he’s exactly where he was. Mouth on your clit, but fingers skillfully pressing inside of you and you don’t know how long you’ll last. Not with the pads of his fingers tapping in the perfect tempo against the ridged spot inside you.

That’s when a weird sensation comes over you. A pressure, you felt like you had to pee and your insides pulled in more trying to keep it all contained. “I–,” you start, but it happens so suddenly. Your orgasm rushes through you, convulsing and almost falling over the edge of the couch, you dig your fingernails into the upholstery. Your eyes roll back, and fuck, so are your hips. Unable to stop yourself using Joel’s mouth to keep you exactly right there. Pleasure pricks your skin, it feels like every cell is ignited – but you jump when you feel a rush of fluid come out of you. The pressure rebounding out, then rippling pleasure back inside you. Joel fucks you with his tongue and fingers until he feels you calm down.

“W-what, what… did I do?” You pant, and Joel is groaning, too. He lifts your hips to get lungfuls of oxygen, so dizzy on you and you notice how soaked his pair of fingers feel on your skin. Sits you down on his chest and you can see his face finally. Can see his mouth parting, gasping as his eyes are hooded and so gone. Curls stick to his forehead, his shirt a dampened colour at the collar. You blush heavily, embarrassed because you aren’t even sure what that was. Did he hate that, was that weird?

“C’mere,” he growls with gritted teeth and sits up, the tables turning instantly. Joel’s stripping his shirt off, kicking every last bit of the bottom half he had on to be abandoned on the floor. His fingers remove the buttons, but he can’t really get them – those fingers too big for the buttons. “Here,” you whisper, an intense feeling of lust falling over any self-conscious self talk you had. You undo the top of your dress one button at a time until your breasts are released from your bra – you moan when he has no problem spilling your tits from the satin, nipples in stiff peaks from your orgasm. And everything else.

“You know what you did?” Joel asks, taking both of your nipples between his fingers from each hand. You moan, lifting your hips and he bites his lip when he sees your cunt front under your dress. “What was it?” You ask, curiously. Innocently.

“You squirted f’me, baby,” he slurs, thumbing over your clit now as he gets a good look at you and he’s drunk on you. His cock throbbing against your thigh, he taps it against your skin before realising what he needed.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters and you can tell by the tone it’s not just at your appearance. “What is it?” You inquire, eyebrows knit.

“Gotta get a condom,” you hear him mutter, getting onto one foot and you stop him. “No. No. I want to feel you. It’s okay, I don’t get pregnant–” well that sentence isn’t exactly how you mean for it to come out, but your mind is mush, your body feels boneless underneath him, and he chuckles at that. At how gone your brain is. Here he was, thinking he was the only one. “Okay, okay, darlin’. I believe ya.”

And really, maybe he should be using more discretion. But he can’t get the feeling of you out of his head. You were everywhere. His mouth, his glistening chest and beard. He takes you by the hips then, sitting back to flip you on your hands and knees with your help and you moan at the sensation. Joel looks down at you, groaning of your ass in the air, pushing back for his cock. “Such a needy little thing, now,” it’s as if someone else is talking. This isn’t the Professor Miller you know. This man has layers and you’re first in line to know exactly what that entails.

Joel takes the base of his cock, bobbing it as it throbs alive in his hand and runs through your slick with the head of it. “So fucking wet. Beginning to think you’ve been wanting this for as long as I have.”

You bite a whine and he can see the back of your head nodding as you crane your neck back enough to make eye contact, but his eyes fall down to your ass pressing eagerly on his cock. Doing your best to press him inside yourself.

“Go ahead,” he slaps his cock on your folds and you mewl at the wet sounds coming from it. “Take my cock.”

And take, you do. Joel holds it out for you, keeps it steady and you push back slow on his cock. Clenching around the head and he growls at that. “You dirty thing. This how you fuck all your teachers?” It burns your skin, pushing your face into your arm and you shake your head.

“Words.” He warns.

“Just you! Just you, Joel!”

“Just me,” he parrots, hissing when you shift back and you both twitch and groan when you take him to the hilt of you. It was so thick, stretching you out until you felt split apart from him. “Just me, show me then. Show me how you fuck me.”

You bite into your arm then, choking on a sob as you push your ass back over and over. Your cunt taking him deep like this, it almost feels like too much and not enough at once. Torturously slow against the spongy spot again

It felt so amazing taking him yourself, but it was like an itch you couldn’t scratch on your own. The tapping of his balls against your clit was too far apart in tempo, his cock speared inside you at a pace that didn’t have quite the same leverage as Joel did behind you.

His hands busied themselves on your ass, peeling the muscle apart – pressing his digits to leave bruises and just when you think it’s too much to take, he gives you something else. His spit falling from his lips right to the velvet of your asshole. You shudder and flutter around him when it falls to where you’re connected. Your fingertips grip the other armrest now, cheek resting atop of your hand and you can’t do it yourself anymore. “Fuck me, Joel! Professor Miller, please!”

“Shit – you know where to push, don’t you?” Joel’s wide hands slide up your sides, keeping them locked in place as he pulls your hips to him at first. Using your whole lower body, your head hands doing your best to keep yourself up but you’re so close when he uses you like this. When he picks up the pace and you let your head fall on his throw pillow – your screams of desire are targeted into the plush cushion.

Joel is bound up in amazement behind you. How you feel around him, your gorgeous figure in front of him as he gives you every bit of power he can now. His hips hammering into you, but with the right amount of speed – not too fast, not too slow. The sound of his balls slapping against your clit is faster now, and the difference is what you focus on. The way it sounds. Joel feels you tighten, pulse around his own pulse and he has to say something to you. Has to talk you through it, even if he’s not sure you’ll like it.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he drapes his body over your back, huffing into your ear as the controlled weight of him pushes your ass down just enough to make your thighs shake. You are soaked, sticky against his abdomen, between your thighs. Over your own stomach. You move your face so you can feel his skin closer against your. His lips staying on your cheekbone, he grunts and nods.

“That’s it, fuckin’ take it. I know you can take it. Those shaky fuckin’ thighs better hold on.”

You feel yourself coil and he is quick to sooth over your hips with his palms.

“Relax, baby. That’s it, that’s good, darlin’. Shh, easy. Do you feel that heat?”

You nod hopelessly, the buildup was so strong you couldn’t do anything but curl your fingers into fists and whimper repeatedly.

“Give into that heat. Come for me, I know you can be so good for me. Good for – fuck – fuck. Good for my cock,” Joel groaning in your ear makes you flutter uncontrollably, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arm around your front, rolling quick circles at the split of your cunt, right at your clit. “Milkin’ my fuckin’ cock like that, don’t stop. Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he grits, and you’re gasping.

Clawing at the pillow, head craning up and back as you come. Mouth gaped, Joel takes advantage – pouring his tongue into it, swirling and drinking you while his cock bottoms into you repeatedly until he can’t take it anymore. You feel too good. Perfect, even.

“Joel!” Your whine is high, as your wet folds take his merciless shoves. “You feel so good, youfeelsogood!” Your lip quivers, jerking in aftershocks that feel a lot like multiple orgasms. You aren’t even sure how you feel, but he knows he has to pull out. So he tells you, rough and pained against your ear. He doesn’t want to any more than you do. But as soon as he does, that reward feels just as sweet.

He exhales roughly through his nose, a popping sound filling the room when he pulls out. Not even needing to touch himself to spill himself over the small of your back.

“Fuck,” he’s out of breath, grunting, and doing his best not to collide into you. You’re still, the nape of your neck dews with sweat and you can feel it stick to your dress instantly.

“Stay there,” Joel pulls away, and you sit up on your elbows now that you’re fully flat and study his frame walk into the kitchen.

The back of him is just as irresistible as the front.

You hum hungrily at the landscape of his back. But you do as you say, you don’t move a muscle. When he comes back, you take note of the splotches of his chest, his neck red and sheened with sweat, too. He’s just as disheveled. The paper towel he comes back with is rough against your lower back, but tickles more than anything else.

Makes you wriggle and laugh.

“What did I say?” He threatens, but his voice is much more smoother and tender. More playful. More like what you’re used to.

“Tickles!”

“You must endure it if you know what’s good for you.” he’s finished enough for you to roll over. You pull your tits back into your bra with another low laugh, but to yourself at how exposed and a mess you’re sure you look on your professor’s couch.

“I think I like that threat.”

“No more,” and that makes your heart drop. He must be able to see the disappointed look on your face, so he rephrases his sentence in an instant. “No more tonight.”

“Maybe I should be teaching you the importance of ambiguity.”

“Next lesson.”

Your heart soars just as fast as it dropped.

---

While you slip on your sneakers, you turn your heel to him – bag in tow. “Listen, I don’t want this to be why I passed.”

“It’s not – it won’t be,” Joel chews up the space between you – his hand pressing against the doorframe that your delicate hand adorns at the knob, fully dressed himself, now. “You will pass by your own volition. I meant it – you are bright. You won’t let anybody take that from you, will you?” You knew that wasn’t a question as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, but you still swayed your head ‘no’.

“Not even me.” He whispers, pressing his lips to your forehead before dropping his arm – allowing you to leave. And that’s exactly what he’ll let you believe.

“Especially not you.” You smile, leaning up to kiss his lips – your flavour lingers over his facial hair and tongue. Your panties in his pocket.

“Goodnight, Professor Miller.”

“Goodnight, doll.”

taglist: @cool-iguana – comment to be added!

#bee's requests #professor!joel #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou smut #joel miller requests #soft!dom joel #softdom!joel #professor au #professor joel miller au #tlou au #joel miller au #by bee

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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

Text

sharing is caring | joel & tommy miller

Summary | If there was one thing no-one really prepared you for when you got pregnant, it was the increase in your sex drive. Six months in and you're more frustrated than ever that something just isn't scratching the itch. You know exactly how to fix it, turns out Tommy does too - if only you'd asked about this three months ago.

Warnings | Pregnancy sex, descriptions of a pregnant body, oral sex (f receiving), masterbation (m), Unprotected PiV sex (Even if you're pregnant, STDs exist folks), creampie, Tommy getting cucked because he loves it more than anything, Joel just being.... Joel.

Word Count | 2.9k

Authors Note | You didn't think Joel was just going to disappear did you? Of course he wasn't. I know that pregnancy sex and this whole trope isn't for everyone, but I hope that I've managed to do it in a way that is still sexy and hot and has you all still loving our little threesome! Big disclaimer that I've never been pregnant, so the accuracy of this might be.... off, please forgive me. We've got one more part after this and I still cannot believe how many of you are still here for this little story. I appreciate all the love you've given me on this so far and I just hope you love the way this ends (When I share it with you), as much as I do! As always, if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or popping into my ask with some love. If you'd like to support me by leaving a tip, you can do so here on my Ko-Fi (But as I always say, no pressure!)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Fuck, Tommy, holy shit.”

Your head is thrown back on the pillow as your hips rock to meet his, your hand working hard to try and bring yourself as close to the edge as Tommy is right now. It’s been six months of a sex drive that’s been through the roof and six months of nothing working to satisfy that. Tommy had always been diligent lover, right from the very beginning, you’d always been satisfied, but there was something that just wasn’t working, and it had all begun when your stomach had started to swell.

It had nothing to do with hating your body – if anything, seeing what it was doing, carrying a creating an entire other human, made you love it even more – you could spend hours running your hands over the swell of your stomach, even when your child would kick or move about and your skin would contort in ways you didn’t know possible, all you could do was watch in awe. No, it had nothing to do with that, and everything to do with the fact you were craving something, someone, you probably shouldn’t.

In the past month, though it killed you to admit it, you’d started faking your orgasms. Something you’d never had to do in your time with Tommy, but that was probably easier than coming clean about the fact that you wanted Joel. No. You needed him. The combination of these two men, in your mind, was the only thing you could think that would help – the eyes of your love on you as his brother fucked you into another dimension. But how the fuck do you even ask for that?

When all is said and done that evening, and Tommy is softly snoring behind you with his hands resting on your belly, you run through every possible way that you might ask him if he’ll let Joel join you again. It had been incredibly normal between the three of you – you’d fallen back into the relationships you’d had before this whole thing started – Joel seemingly nothing but the loving brother-in-law he’d always been, and two brothers who certainly hadn’t been sharing you between themselves. It was a relief, that you could all go back to your old roles, but you knew Joel wanted more. Every time you’d see him, you’d watch his eyes on your swelling stomach, eyes that would darken when they met your own, with nothing but wanting for you. You knew he would do anything for you, you just had to ask.

“Can I ask you something?” You pluck up the courage one evening when Tommy is massaging your ankles to try and get the swelling to subside.

“Course you can.” He comments, his eyes never leaving the sports coverage on the TV in front of him.

“Promise you won’t get mad?” You’re biting at the corner of one of your nails, worried that you might just be about to ruin everything good you’ve ever had.

You watch, puzzled, as a smirk appears on Tommy’s face, his hands still working to relieve the aches at your ankles, “What the hell are you smirking for?” You ask.

“Just think I know what you’re gonna ask for, is all.”

“Go on then, smartass,” You offer, “What am I going to ask for?”

“You want Joel, right?”

What the fuck? How the fuck did he know? Your shock and surprise that he knew exactly what was on your mind must show on your face because he’s chuckling.

“You’re not mad?” You ask.

“No sugar, I am not mad,” He smiles, “He did a big thing for us,” He pauses to put a hand on your belly, “I’d be dumb as rocks to think that after all this there wasn’t some kind of connection between you both and that’s okay,” He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your lips, “I know you love me, but if you need him to help then all you had to do was ask.”

"I just feel guilty," You admit, "That we're doing this together," You rest a hand on your tummy where a foot has just kicked, "And I can't stop thinking about how good it feels when you're both there."

"You don't have to feel guilty," He reassures, "He's as much involved as you or I sugar, and it's okay to ask for what you want, I promise."

“I still want you to be there,” You speak softly, taking hold of his hand, “And you’re sure you’re okay with this?”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, sweetheart,” He smiles, and you can tell it’s genuine, “Leave it with me and I’ll make sure you get what you want.”

It doesn’t take long for Tommy to make good on his promise. Within the week, you’re led on your bed, trying to relieve the ache in your back for a little bit, when that familiar of knocks at the door rings through the house. You stay horizontal for a while, mind thinking back to all the times you’d done this before. This time you know it has nothing to do with being a means to an end, and everything about you being able to enjoy yourself, and that’s thrilling more than anything else.

You push yourself up on your hands, leaning back on them slightly, when you can hear Tommy and Joel coming up the stairs. You’re dressed in your usual silk robe. The burgeoning bump in front of you means even if you tie it, it doesn’t fit properly anymore, so you’ve got the most unsexy pair of underwear on, the only stuff that fits right now, but when Joel makes his way through your bedroom door, left open this time, it doesn’t matter, he’s looking at you like you’re the loveliest thing he’s ever seen.

Tommy is behind him, walking over to take his place on the chair in the corner, leaving you and Joel to have a moment to yourself, for now. Joel leans down and presses his usual chaste kiss to your cheek, pulling back to look down at you, looming over you as he traces your bottom lip with his thumb, just like he had the first night you’d been together.

“You frustrated, darlin’ girl?” He asks, letting a smirk fall across his lips, “Thought you didn’t need me anymore, didn’t you?” You vehemently shake your head, no, you knew you needed him, and if you’d known Tommy would let you, you’d have asked months ago, “Don’t worry, pretty girl, I think together we can make you feel good.” He tilts his head to Tommy, sat behind you, but for once, your eyes are only on Joel.

You reach your own hand up to cup his face, letting your fingers trace along the rough hair on his jaw, you want to tell him you’ve missed him, because you have, but instead you just settle for trying to finally get what you want.

“You gonna spend all night looking at me?” You ask coyly, “Or are you going to eat my pussy?”

“You drive a hard bargain.” He smirks, dropping to his knees, pulling at your ankles so you’re siting over the end of the bed, his hands coming to undo the tie of your robe, slipping it off to reveal your naked upper half to him.

“Look what we did, pretty girl,” Joel whispers, big palms running over the swell of your stomach, “Look what we made together.”

You’re overcome with emotion, tears pricking at your eyes, as his gentle hands trace the bump, mouth trailing just behind his hands as he worships his work, worships what he’s made you. As his fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear and pull them down, you feel the bed dip behind you. Tommy settles himself against your back, letting his legs rest on either side of your own, his lips starting to trail down your neck and across your shoulder as Joel spreads your legs.

You can feel the breath from Joel’s mouth across the skin of your pussy, your hips bucking to try and meet his mouth. He brings your legs to rest over his broad shoulders, widening your spread legs before his mouth is on you. He’s doing what he always does, using his tongue to lap up at your slick hole first, and he’s groaning whilst he does it. He hasn’t had the taste of you on his mouth for six months, and even he’s surprised with how much he’s missed it. You lean yourself fully back into Tommy’s chest, as his hands come to cup the weight of your tits. They’re sensitive and sore, and he knows to be gentle, but he’s running his thumbs over your peaked nipples just enough that the pleasure outweighs the slight pain you feel.

It's all inconsequential anyway once Joel trails his tongue up through your folds and over your clit. It’s like the trail of his tongue sets you on fire, lighting every single part of you alight as he touches you. You’re squirming against the pleasure of Tommy’s fingers at your chest, so much so that Joel has to grip the meat of your thighs to keep you steady as he trails the tip of his tongue over your clit in slow, languid movements, working you up slowly this time.

With Tommy’s lips at your neck and his hands on your tits, and the slow but firm work of Joel’s tongue on your clit, you’re reaching your peak before you really know it’s happening. You can feel your thighs begin to shake and the way you’re grinding yourself into Joel’s face to chase the feeling of his mouth, you know you’re not going to last much longer. You reach down and run your fingers through his hair, anchoring his face to your aching cunt.

“You gonna come for us baby?” Tommy breathes into your ear, “Go on, let go for us, I know you’ve been waiting.”

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” You breathe out with every breath you exhale, “I’m- oh my god-”

It hits you like a fucking freight train. Six months of pent-up tension released all at once as you actually scream Joel’s name out into the room. You can feel Tommy’s erection behind you, pressing into your lower back as you arch up into Joel’s mouth, his tongue working you through the aftershocks.

He pulls his face away from your pussy, rubbing the slick onto your thigh as he presses soft kisses to the delicate skin there whilst you try and fill your lungs with air, trying not to cry at the relief you finally feel after all this time.

“Wasn’t so hard, was it, pretty girl?” He speaks from between your thighs, finally pulling back enough that you can see those big, brown eyes, “Just needed a little extra help, didn’t you?” You’re too blissed out to care much right now at his teasing tone because he’s right. You did just need a little extra help.

“You want him to fuck you, sugar?” Tommy asks into your ear.

Joel stands, hands poised at his shirt buttons, waiting for your permission. You look him straight in the eye, legs spread, your wet cunt on full display for him, “I’d be disappointed if he didn’t.”

Joel is slipping of his shirt in seconds, belt and jeans soon following. You can already see the bulge in the front of his underwear as Tommy moves from behind you. You move to grip his arm to get him to stay.

“I’ll be right over here,” He soothes, pointing to the chair, “Just enjoy yourself, okay?”

You turn your attention back to Joel, who is palming his cock through the thin material of his boxers, watching you as you shuffle back onto the bed.

“What works for you, pretty girl?” He asks, letting his underwear drop to the floor as he crawls onto the mattress with you, “What makes you feel good?”

He looms over you, settled between your thighs as he kisses at your neck. He wants you to be comfortable. He knows the positions you both favoured before are a dream now – there’s no way he would want to fold you in half, your legs on his shoulders, like he used to. You bring a hand to his chest, letting your fingers spread through the patchy hair that sits there.

“Let me ride you?” You ask, almost shyly.

“Whatever you want, babygirl.”

Joel stretches out on the mattress and helps you to straddle his waist, holding your hands as you flounder a little to mount his body. He keeps you steady as you reach between the two of you to grab his cock, lining yourself up ready to sink down onto him.

“I knew you’d be fuckin’ beautiful like this,” He groans as you slide down onto his cock, wet heat enveloping him as his hands rest on your stomach as you start grinding onto him, “Look at you,” He coos, “Puttin’ on a show for your man over there.”

When you turn your head Tommy is exactly how he usually is, filthy grin plastered on his face, fisting his cock as he watches you take your pleasure from his brother. It makes you feel powerful as you rock your hips, feeling Joel’s cock work inside your pussy as he watches you.

“It’s a fuckin’ great show too.” Tommy groans as he works himself in his hand.

You bring your attention back to Joel, palms placed on his chest as you start fucking yourself on him. His hands are on your hips, but instead of the bruising grip they used to hold you in, now he’s softer, gentler with you as he guides your hips in movements that have you both moaning each other’s names.

“Feels so good Joel,” You choke out, leaning as far forward as you can with your pregnant belly, trailing kisses along his jaw, “Missed this.”

When you finally lean back, hands on Joel’s knee’s which he’s brought up to rest behind you, feet planted on the bed so he can finally start thrusting up into your aching cunt, you know it won’t be long until you’re seeing stars again. Joel brings his hand to your pussy, thumb rubbing tight circles across your clit.

“Missed you too, pretty girl,” He groans, hips faltering as he thrusts up into you, he’s close too, “Missed feeling this pretty pussy clench around me when you’re gonna come for me.”

“Don’t stop,” You breathe, “I’m so fucking close Joel.”

He does exactly what you ask, keeps a steady rhythm of thrusts into your pussy, his hand working at your clit. You take a moment to look at Tommy, who gives you a wink as you watch him, eyes on him as he comes, covering his lower belly and his hand with his spend as he continues to watch you.

“Come on, pretty girl,” Joel growls, bringing your attention back down to him, “Come for me.”

You can feel the walls of your tight heat fluttering around his cock as you start to come around him. You hold yourself up with your hands on his knees as your vision blurs and pleasure spools its way across your body. You’re crying out his name as you feel him still inside you, the warmth of his spend seeping into you as he groans your name. Filling you right to the brim like he’d always done before, gripping your hips to keep you in place as your walls continued to flutter around him through your aftershocks.

Once he’s sure you’re both finished, Joel helps you to lie down on the bed, pulling you off him and settling you on your back. You can hear Tommy at the other side of the room, doing his jeans up before he’s padding out of the room and down the stairs.

“Are you alright?” Joel asks, lips close to your ear as he lets himself take a moment alone with you, hand resting on your stomach as the baby inside you wriggles around.

“I’m fine,” You sigh, turning to look at him, he’s so close, his hand warm and protective on your swollen belly, “Thank you.”

“None of that, pretty girl,” He can see the tears forming in your eyes, he takes your chin in his fingers, tilting your face just enough to press the softest kiss to your lips, “No more tears.”

You bring your hand to his face, pulling him back down for another kiss, soft and over far too quickly, pulling away just as Tommy starts back up the stairs. By the time he’s in the room with a glass of water and the tablets you were taking to keep your heartburn at bay, Joel is already pulling on his clothes. You’re standing up, aiming to pick your robe up from the floor, but Joel beats you to it – handing you the silk material before bending to pick up his shirt.

When he’s dressed, it’s the same as always, you both press kisses to each other’s cheeks and say goodbye. Tommy walks him downstairs, and you can hear them talking a little as you head to the bathroom. If there’s one thing you weren’t risking, it was a UTI whilst pregnant. As you’re washing your hands you can hear the front door close, and the sound of Tommy’s footsteps back on the stairs.

You meet him outside the bedroom door, shedding his clothes as you do the same. It takes you a while to find a position you’re comfortable enough in to consider sleeping – led on your back with Tommy’s hand firmly on your stomach as is had been since the very beginning, his head on the pillow next to yours.

“Thank you,” You say into the darkness, “For trusting us.”

Tommy takes a moment before he replies, “I know he makes you happy,” He kisses your cheek, “All I ever want is for you to be happy.”

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pathetichimbos · 6 months

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guys... I gotta talk about this. bear with me, it's gonna be a rollercoaster.

---

Thomas having sex for the first time.

Oh boy. Oh boy. So many thoughts.

I don't care what anyone says. Thomas is a 30+ year old virgin. We stan him. We love him. We're gonna ruin him.

But first, let's talk about all the stuff in his life building up to it.

So, as I've stated many, many times before, Thomas was primarily isolated from kids his age when he was 13-14, so he didn't really have an outlet to explore anything in a safe manner with anyone. (Not that it would have been all that safe in the first place... these kids wildin')

And we also know that he grew up in a pretty conservative household (a.ka. patriotic god fearing americans), so we all know that he was most likely too embarrased and ashamed by his own attraction to explore anything by himself either. (whoo boy been there buddy)

And we know that as an older, proud, southern woman, Luda Mae most likely did not have any sort of sex talk with Thomas other than telling him it was for grown, married folks only.

But, you know what we didn't know?

Charlie wasn't around to have the talk with him either.

I was rewatching The Beginning (oh wow, really? what a surprising turn of events) and something I've heard dozens of times before caught my eye.

1952. Sergeant Major 'Hoyt' was a POW in the Korean war.

August, 1939. Luda Mae finds a discarded newborn in the dumpster outside the slaughterhouse.

1939-1952.

Depending on the month (but we can assume it was many, many months), Thomas was 12 or 13 when Charlie served in the Army.

So, while Thomas is dropping out of school and isolating himself from his family and peers, the only sense of a father figure is serving / being held captive by enemy soldiers.

And personally, I don't believe Thomas and Monty are that close. Monty doesn't seem to take any sort of interest in Thomas, and Thomas was a little too willing to chop his legs off. So I sincerely doubt he was any sort of help.

So, really, I wouldn't be all that surprised if Thomas doesn't really know what sex is. He has a general idea of the meaning and that it's reserved for marriage, but other than crude, most likely misogynistic comments from the older men in his life, he doesn't really know anything about it.

So, when he actually does meet someone (and tie the knot) and all of those feelings come rushing in, he's more than overwhelmed. It takes a long time before he can actually handle going all the way.

For the first part of your intimacy, it's a lot of soft talks and encouragement, and explaining everything to him. He has no idea how to make you feel good, so it's up to you to show him literally everything.

You have to build up to the actual sex, and even after you do it for the first time, he's going to need you to keep hold of the lead until he's familiar and comfortable with it all.

He's a mess when you finally do it. He's clinging to you, trying so hard not to hold you too tightly, a whining mess in your ear, burying his face in your neck and panting wildly. It's awkward, and bumpy, and he finishes way too fast (and you don't even get the chance) but the way he melts into your touch with that blissed out look in his eyes makes it worth it.

And trust me, he gets better. He's a quick learner, and as long as you tell him exactly what to do, he goes from a fumbling mess to making your toes curl in no time.

He spends an ungodly amount of time watching and learning what gets you going. The sounds, the sights, the movements, everything.

He could spend hours on you, but he's still new to this, so he gets distracted really easily.

He lives off praise, the more you give him the more fuzzy his brain gets until he's a whining mess. (He makes a LOT of noises). He loves when you leave scratches. (Nothing too deep or scarring, but the feeling drives him crazy). He likes when you tug his hair to make him look at you. (He's big on eye contact, specifically when you're more 'making love' than 'we've got five minutes before someone walks into the kitchen').

....Now this next thing I'm gonna say is going to upset plenty of people, but hear me out.

Realistically, I don't think Thomas enjoys going down.

I know, I know, it's a SUPER unpopular opinion as pretty much every headcanons him as being super into giving head, BUT, I have my reasonings.

It's not that he dislikes the act itself, and in fact, I'm sure he actually loves it, but we do have to remember that he has a rather severe skin condition mostly centered around his face.

This means his skin is super sensitive to certain things like strong chemicals, intense fragrances, hot water, and anything with a high acidity.

And going down with absolutely cause an irritable flare up that will hurt. A lot.

So, no, realistically, I don't think he'd do it, just for that reason.

Do I think he'd enjoy doing it if he could? Yea, absolutely, I just don't think he can.

Anyways. I don't know what this was. But it would not leave my brain, so. I guess this is my introductory to the smut I want to start writing. Who knows. We'll see.

#thomas hewitt #slasher fandom #slashers #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x s/o #thomas hewitt x y/n #slasher x reader #thomas hewitt x you #slasher x you

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valhallaas · 1 year

Text

That’s My Girl

pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x sunshine!reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: SMUT (18+, minors dni) vaginal fingering, p in v, cream pie (wrap it up, pals) jake stirring the pot like the shithead he is

summary: when everyone but rooster sees it, there’s always a texan willing to step up to the plate.

a/n: not me cackling while writing this like some crazed woman. ya’ll can blame @glen-powells for this. the text messages can prove it.

Part 2

Part 3

It surprises you every time you come back to the Hard Deck how it hasn’t changed. At least the atmosphere. Civilians and aviators alike. Penny grins at you when you walk in. Elbowing your way through the crowd, you take a seat at the bar, leaning far enough over to let her kiss you on the cheek. Her and your mom had been best friends. Penny’s known you since you were in diapers, helped your mom through the divorce, and helped you when she passed away. You always did your best to come visit her when you could. You’re on leave for the next two months and you aren’t wasting it anywhere else but here.

“Long time no see.” Penny says as she grabs you a drink.

You only grin. “You’ll be seeing so much of me, you’ll be sick of me.”

“Is free labor included in that?”

“Always.” A two toned whistle catches your attention. Turning to look behind you, you sigh at the sight. Holy shit. They’re all here. Your eyes narrow at the blonde, his grin widening when he catches you staring. “Maybe not tonight, Pen.”

Penny shakes her head. “I didn’t think so. Go on, then.”

Throwing her a grateful smile, you’re up and heading towards the pool table. It’s a reunion, no doubt. You’d been overseas the last few months. Seeing everyone here is a blessing. You can’t help the splitting grin on your face when Bob wraps you up right in his arms. How the two of you hit it off, you’ll never know, but you aren’t complaining.

“Look who it is, folks. Our Sunny girl. Did ya’ll see it get brighter in here when she walked in?”

Your eyes roll so far into the back of your head you’re surprised they don’t get stuck. Turning, you come face to face with the blonde who’d called for your attention.

“Hangman,”

He pulls the toothpick out of his mouth and winks. “Sunshine.”

“What’s got y’all here?”

“You.” Phoenix answers, standing from where she knocked two solids in at the pool table.

You turn to look back at the bar. Penny’s already looking at you with a smirk. What a little sneak. You should’ve known she let you go too easily. Shaking your head you step forward and snag the pool stick from Hangman. He smirks, but doesn’t say anything. You quirk an eyebrow. Lieutenant Jake Seresin keeping his mouth shut? It’s a goddamn miracle. His eyes never leave you as the game finishes. Phoenix grumbles at her loss, you were three shots behind when you started. It’s not your fault that you’re good, that you’re very good. Handing the stick off to Bob, your eyes scan the bar. It’s been almost thirty minutes since you got here. It’s a Saturday night and the bar is busy.

No Hawaiian shirt in sight. No porn mustache spotted anywhere. Your shoulders deflate. If everyone else is here, why isn’t he?

“Who you looking for, Sunshine?”

You glance sideways. “Wouldn’t like to know.”

Jake only grins. “Your bird boy ain’t here yet. Had a meeting with Maverick, I believe.”

Fucking Christ. Are you really that hopeless when it comes to him? So exposed that even Bagman can tell that your head over heels for Rooster? It’s not like it’s your fault. If you had it your way, you’d be happy with your own company. But the heart wants what the heart wants.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. Because as much as you pine for him, Bradshaw is a dumbass.”

“What do you mean?”

“He hasn’t noticed, Sunny. You’re still that kid from down the road. You need to do something to make him see you.”

The thought has crossed your mind. You’ve known Bradley so long that he probably didn’t think of you that way. Your teeth bite into your cheek, hands fiddling with the hem of your dress. You don’t miss the way Hangman’s eyes take you in. His gaze lingering on your bare thighs. You huff out a small laugh, pulling his attention back to your face.

You and Jake have a weird relationship. He annoys you to no end but you trust him with your life. Pretty sure you’re the only one in the bar that does. Jake’s been protective of you since you met at Top Gun. A relationship without the relationship, you suppose.

“Can always stir the pot,”

You blink. “What?”

“Make him jealous, Sunny.” A snort escapes you and you slap a hand over your mouth. Jake’s smile is wide, his head falling back with a deep chuckle. “Oh, Sunny girl.”

“I have no one to make him jealous. Even if I did, that’s a stupid idea. What am I, in eighth grade?”

“Honey, look at who you’re talking to.”

Green eyes devour you when you look up at him. He is right. No one gets under Rooster’s skin more than Hangman. You bite your lip, unsure. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But there’s a fire in Hangman’s eyes, like he’s got a point to prove. Playing with the hem of your dress, you scrape the toe of your shoe against the floor. Fuck it, really, what do you have to lose?

“What are we going to do, exactly?”

Jake raises his hand, cupping the side of your face. His thumb lightly drags over your bottom lip before pulling it down. He pulls it away and looks down at the faintly smeared mauve color now on the pad. He lifts it up to his mouth and rubs it in.

“What are you doing?”

His lips tilt into a knowing smirk. “Teasin’.”

He’s going to get you in trouble. Lifting a hand to your own mouth, it’s smacked lightly. Sharp eyes glare at him.

“Go pick out a song. Let’s dance.”

“Dance?”

“Yeah, Sunshine, dance. Now go, and pick out a good one.”

You roll your eyes but do as you're told. Eyes follow you the whole way to the jukebox. You lean over, just a bit, the bottom of your dress rising up to tease. Was that why you wore it? Maybe. You wouldn’t tell. Flipping through the songs, you pause a few pages back, a knowing smile taking over your face. Putting the money in, you twirl back to face Jake. When the song starts playing he laughs.

“Honey, you are playing dirty.”

“You started it.”

“Well, you do have your boots on.” He says toeing your Ariats.

“Come on, Texas. Show me how to boogie.”

“You are asking for trouble.”

An eyebrow raises. “Pot, meet kettle.”

Jake doesn’t say anything else. His hand grabs for yours, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you tightly to him. You can’t help but gasp when his thigh slots between yours. Tightening your grip on his shoulder, he twirls you both out and makes room to have a dance floor. The other patrons cheer while watching. A few cat calls thrown your way. A carefree laugh makes its way from you. It’s been a long time since you’ve felt this way. It’s silly, really. To think that teasing a grown ass man made you feel this way.

“Just a heads up, Sunny girl, Bradshaw’s been watching since you went to pick out the song.” Your heart drops. What now? You go to turn your head, to try to find him, anything, really, but are stopped short. Jake slides his hand into your hair keeping you still. “Stop. You’re going to ruin it. I can see his fucking vein bulging from here.”

This is a good thing, right? This is what you wanted? His attention? Jake knows what he’s doing. He’s never led you astray before. Hopefully he won't start now. Jake lets you go, hanging you out with one hand before twirling you around. You’re facing away from him now, and you come face to face with Rooster. You inhale sharply, the smell of him overwhelming you.

“What’s going on here?” He asks, no preamble.

“We’re dancing, I know you have eyes, Bradshaw.”

Bradley looks from Hangman down at you. Head to toe his eyes blaze over you. A fire touching your skin. Licking at the top of your exposed breasts and down your thighs. You can see his lips twitch. The man knows you. His hand reaches out, pinches the fabric of the dress, rolling it between his fingers. It’s his favorite color, and by the look in his eyes you know he knows you wore it just for him.

“Hey Sunshine.”

“Hi Rooster.”

“Couldn’t wait for me, huh?”

You frown. Opening your mouth to talk, you’re promptly cut off. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Rooster shrugs. You follow after him to the table where all your friends are. Most of them try their hardest to look as if they aren’t watching this scene play out like a movie. You jump up to sit on the table, grabbing your drink and taking a sip. You hand Hangman his beer, his glare still on the man beside you. Neither of them say anything for a long time. They just stare, having a silent conversation that you don’t know how to decipher.

“Didn’t know you had a thing for Bagman, Sunshine.” Rooster finally says.

You snort, ignoring Jake’s smirk. “He wishes.”

“That why your lipstick is on his mouth?”

“Who’s mouth should it be on? Wouldn’t want it to go to waste.” Jesus Christ, he’s trying to get you into fucking trouble. Widened eyes look at Jake, his face more stoic than you’ve ever seen it.

“What does that mean?”

Hangman huffs, taking a pull from his beer. “All I’m saying Bradshaw, is that you’ve got a hell of a woman hanging off every word you say. Waiting on you to finally do something. So, you better fuck her before I do.”

Did he know you could hear him? You’re sitting like two feet away. Neither of the men back were backing down and it’s making your anxiety spike. They’ve always been at each other's throats. You’re not sure when their little feud became about you.

“Did she say that?”

“Say what?”

“Did Sunshine say that she wanted you to fuck her?”

There was no hiding the smugness in Bradley’s tone. Hook, line, and sinker. A muscle twitches in Jake’s jaw from how hard he’s clenching his teeth. Suddenly, he glances over at you and you know you must look like a deer caught in headlights. He sighs but it doesn’t sound like one of defeat. More like he’s losing his patience.

He steps towards you, thumb trailing over your bottom lip. “If it doesn't work out with him, Sunny. You know where to find me.”

Hangman turns without looking at either of you again and makes for the jukebox. Your lips quirk up when you recognize the song.

***

The sound of the door closing is your only warning. Hazel eyes meet yours in the mirror as you roll your neck. Your body relaxes when you feel him press up against your back. He’s so warm it sends chills running down your spine. The bathroom isn’t all that big. Bradley stands behind you, invading your space and swallowing it whole. There is nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. It’s easy to see that Hangman’s words have gotten under your skin. Your heart thunders in your chest at what’s going to happen next. A small prayer is sent off that Penny never finds out.

“You look good, flower.”

You smile at the nickname. “Thanks. It’s always fun when you can dress up in civvy clothes.”

He huffs. “The dress is really something,”

You grin at him through the mirror and you see Adam’s apple bob, hazel eyes fixated on your lips. You swallow, your throat thick. Tearing your gaze from his, you smooth your hands down the soft material, fingers playing with the hem of it. You took a chance with it, and you’re grateful it’s working out in your favor.

The tension is thick and heady. It clings to your skin, his callouses catch on your skin, gluing themselves to you. The music from the jukebox beats against the bathroom door, it’s the only thing accompanied by your heavy breathing. Your eyes shut when his hand pulls your hair to rest over one shoulder. A light yank of your hair has them snapping open. You meet his eyes in the mirror. One eyebrow quirks up at you. With a shaky breath you nod. Bradley leans in, lips lightly brushing against the expanse of your neck. His gaze rests on the soft spot right next to where it connects to your shoulder. You tilt your neck not only to give him more access, but permission too. Your lips tilt at the groan he lets out before his lips are on you.

Slowly his hands pull your sleeves down your arms. Goosebumps rise on your exposed skin. It makes you feel a little vulnerable. But then Bradley pushes himself even closer. He’s got his Hawaiian shirt on, jeans, and his boots. You can feel him breathing, his chest warming your back. It’s when he pushes his hips against you—you can feel him. All of him. A whimper escapes you and you see him grin in the mirror.

A hand trails down your side while the other moves to your chest. Your head falls back when a nipple is taken between his calloused fingers. You’ve only dreamt of what his hands would feel like. Your imagination didn’t do him justice. The heat coming from him is intoxicating. You’ve been so caught up in him that you haven’t realized a hand has been slipping down, down down. Fingers toiling with your dress, pushing the skirt up slowly. A hum rumbles from him when his fingers finally find your core, slipping between your folds. You’re completely soaked. You’ve been this way since he appeared right in front of you. Your breath locks in your throat when he slips a digit in.

“Christ,” he mutters, voice thick like honey. “No panties, flower?”

You whine, you can’t help it. You push your hips back into him, arching your back. His voice, the accusation in his tone. You knew what you were doing when you left your house. Maybe he’d come home with you, fucking you good and proper in your bed. Not pressed up against the sink of the Hard Deck. Bradley pulls his finger out only to push it back in with another. He does this, warming up your body, until you’re moaning, your own hand wrapped around his wrist and guiding him. You can’t stop your hips from grounding down on his hand. Desire has taken over. Bradley has left your nipple, hand now wrapped around your throat, holding you hostage to watch yourself in the mirror. He grunts when you clench around his fingers. You’re close, so close.

“Bradley,” you whine, fingers digging into his arm.

“I know, flower. You want it real bad, don’t you? Let me feel it. Let me feel you gush all over my hand sweet girl. Would you like that?”

You’re going to come off his words alone. A moan falling from your lips as the pressure tightens. It’s only moments later when the band snaps, hot liquid flooding throughout your body. Your head falls back against his chest, another moan filling the small space.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.”

You can feel him moving behind you. The distinct clinking of his belt being undone. Your whole body grows hotter in anticipation. Searing heat hits you, a hand stroking himself while the other is spreading you open. Heat pulses between your legs. There’s no doubt that he’ll split you wide open. After what you just pulled with Jake, you’d be surprised if he was forgiving at all. It’s a little fucked up, but it warms your belly all the same. Lifting your head, you gasp when his eyes meet yours. Bradley’s pupils are blown, lust and primal desire have taken over. His lips pink and full, he bends down and kisses right between your shoulder blades. Traveling up your spine, over your shoulder, he digs his teeth in where it meets your neck. You don’t miss his smirk when you moan.

He slides a hand across your ass, slapping you just hard enough to leave a red handprint behind as he thrust deep, bottoming out. A hand clamps down around your mouth, muffling the scream trying to break free. He’s big, so fucking big. He’s filling you up like never before. It hurts, a pain that you will never get enough of. Your knuckles turn white with each rough, lazy thrust. Bradley slides a hand along your spine, up the back of your neck and into your hair, your breath catches as he pulls your head up and you’re meeting his gaze in the mirror. He’s watching you come undone around him. Each stroke pulling more and more pleasure. Your cheeks are flushed, pupils blown with lust, and lips parted as each of your clipped breaths turn into whimpers.

“Flower,” he grits, hand tightening in your hair, “you feel so fucking good.”

You stare back at him, feet spreading wider to let as much of him in as you can. His teeth dig into your skin again, this time leaving bruises behind. It makes you whine. Little secrets that litter your skin. He thrusts harder, rougher until your hand is pressed against the mirror just to keep you balanced. He’s fully claiming you. Cock punching into the deepest part of you. Neither of you are too worried about the sounds escaping you now.

“Bradley, I–” you're cut off by a whimper when he reaches that spongy spot deep inside you. Over and over again, you feel it approaching, your orgasm is going to come crashing down and you’re ready to bask in it. Your face lifts up, like a sunflower searching for the sun.

“Flower? Are you going to come for me again? Are you going to let me feel you come around my cock?”

“Yes! Yes, I–Rooster, fuck,”

You come on his cock like a tidal wave, and when you collapse against the counter, your body trembles, heaving desperately for air. Bradley groans, pulling you up until you’re flush against him. His lips meet yours in a messy kiss, bucking his hips harder until he’s chasing his high right over the ledge with you.

“Good girl,” he praises, wiping the sweat off the back of your neck. “Good fuckin’ girl. That’s my good girl.”

The jukebox is still blaring when you exit the bathroom. Slowly you make your way back to where your friends are. Ignoring all of their knowing stares you reach for your drink and down it. When Bradley finally makes his appearance beside you, a possessive arm thrown over your shoulders and a quick kiss to the crown of your head. Hangman’s watching the both of you, a knowing look in his eye.

“So, Bradshaw, how was she?”

#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x you #rooster bradshaw one shot #rooster bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw one shot #bradley rooster bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfic #rooster bradhsaw fanfic #top gun maverick fanfic

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hades-in-bloom · 8 months

Text

Shower Thoughts

Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

summary: Leon has just returned from another soul-crushing mission—and you didn't happen to be home yet.

warnings & contents: heavy angst, our sweetpea is hurt; suicide trigger/thoughts; implied severe depression; assumed older Leon; implied military training on the reader; more hurt than comfort; mentions of death and violence, and blood; could be read as age gap but could be none; the reader could be of any gender; there's light at the end of the tunnel.

a/n: I was craving some angst but didn't plan it to go that far; oh well. Our sweet boy deserves all the happiness though—but author is a bitch. Also, I don't believe Leon would be seriously considering harming himself, but I do believe that he's an empathetic human being kidnapped in his youth to do a shitty job, so there could be a moment of weakness; otherwise, “we owe it to the people who died alongside us, so we have to continue living.” As always, proceed at your own risk. DNI minors & if mentions of suicide affect you. This is a work of fiction and shouldn't be used as guidance on how to behave in similar sensitive situations. Masterlist

***

Leon rubbed his hands under the hot tap forcefully, willing to wash off the blood; the water coming off his fingers was clean for a while, but he seemed not to notice it—after all, there was always blood on his hands, whether others could see it or not. The man only stopped when the touch started to hurt, his abused skin red from friction.

“Shit,” Leon grunted under his breath and turned off the faucet angrily, his breathing ragged. Others might say that it was adrenaline still rushing through his veins, but he knew it wasn’t it. For how long he’s done this job, he was past the prolonged adrenaline rush a while ago. Leon put his palm over his forehead, barely covering his exhausted eyes; his hands slightly shaking.

How many more people had to die before this shit would end?

He remembered them all, those he couldn’t save, and he only kept counting. Leon knew he wasn’t supposed to—saving ordinary folk was a luxury in his position—but it was hard for him to accept who he had become. The extensive bathroom mirror in front of him, he couldn’t level his gaze to take a look at himself, and when he did, his teeth clenched, and his glance shot into the corner of the reflection—there was his essential gear, a pistol and a knife, thoughtlessly dropped on the bathroom floor.

Suddenly, he felt exhausted. A carnal thought made him blush in a fever—wouldn’t it be so easy? Leon was never the type to look for easy ways out—but he was only of flesh and blood, too; isn't he only human? Despite what reports said about him always being “the survivor” and “the golden boy.” Screw the odds.

He picked up his gear from the floor, his palm sliding across the pistol barrel. Leon counted the bullets left in the magazine with another hand, pulling it back into the grip compartment right after; his facial expression was unreadable, deprived of emotion. In moments like this, the man wasn't sure if he could feel anything anymore.

Wouldn't it be so easy, after all? Maybe after that, he'll be able to wake up from this bloody nightmare.

Consumed by his thoughts, he didn't hear how the keys screeched in the lock of the apartment door, and you came in.

You noticed his jacket on the hanger, and your eyebrows shot to your forehead in surprise.

“Leon?” you called to him, dropping bags full of groceries next to the kitchen island; your body tensed in anticipation. You didn't expect him so early. After his assignments, he usually barged in the middle of the night and not in the light of day. You didn't complain, though. You missed him.

You gently knocked on the bathroom door when you heard muffled sounds from another side. “Hey,” your voice was calm and soothing. “Can I come in? Do you need help?” At this point, you got used to his bruises and stitches, caring only about him getting back home in one piece.

There was something more to his injuries this time.

“Shit,” Leon cursed under his breath again when you stepped into the bathroom, despairing of getting a word out of him. You were worried; he could see it on your face. You quickly noticed his scalded hands, the right one behind his back, hiding something. He looked like a curious teenager who got caught watching adult movies.

“Hey,” his lips stretched into an unnatural smile. “Sorry, I didn't hear you come in…”

“You should've called me,” you scolded him calmly, making a step forward. His body tensed and froze as soon as you stretched your hand toward him, and you held back a frown. “…I would’ve been home in a heartbeat.”

The man’s eyes were bloodshot, his lips chapped, and his breath ragged; and then you saw it—the reflection in the mirror betraying him—his long fingers clinging to the gun. Your mouth went agape, and you dashed forward with a precision of a trained police officer.

“Give it to me,” you hissed, your heart beating in your throat. You were scared—you haven't been that afraid of in ages. Leon gasped, bamboozled, and his hand easily let go of a weapon. You didn’t ask—you slapped him across the face, letting your frustration out. “Are you mad? What were you going to do with this thing?”

You would react differently if he wasn’t hiding it; somehow this bothered you more than anything. After all, Leon should’ve known that you wouldn’t fumble at the sight of a gun, which made his attempts to cover its presence even more pointless.

His cheeks flushed, and he gulped, incapable of looking at you; he was confirming your worst fears, and after giving him a long stare, your hand covered your mouth to stop you from sobbing.

“Moron,” you grunted under your breath. His head got even lower, and you saw a tear falling onto the lightly colored tile. It took you a moment before you grabbed him into an angry, desperate embrace. His hands wrapped around your waist, then one shot into your hair, pressing at the back of your head, pulling you closer. His face was buried into your neck, and his body shook violently as he let himself cry.

You held him painfully close as long as it was necessary. “I am sorry,” you whispered next to his ear while he clung to you like a drowning man to a lifeboat; you sounded hurt and angry—and hopeful. “I am so, so sorry.”

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runningfrom2am · 3 months

Text

what happened to lucy gray baird // LTPF

summary: what became of lucy gray baird and sejanus plinth? you finally get some answers after sixty-five years.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. this is kinda sad btw. just a heads up.

a/n: happy birthday to my bestie @that-veela-girl ! this was requested by her bc we talked ab this AT LENGTH in an ask and we just needed to see it fleshed out. also bestie i made some minor changes i hope that's okay with you ahhh

series masterlist // playlist

Lucy Gray stumbled up to the cabin, hours after she was certain you and Coriolanus had left. Her heart had finally stopped pounding, and the bullet wound that only just grazed her back was still burning. Trying to stop the bleeding was hard when she was all alone.

She takes deep breaths, sighing in relief as she opens the cabin door in the dark of the night. She was free, or so she hoped. She peaked in, gasping as she saw your figure asleep on the makeshift bed, Coriolanus's scarf gripped in your hands held up just in front of your face as the moonlight seeped in through the open door. She couldn't believe she had considered you a friend.

You looked so peaceful as you slept. Harmless, even. But she knew better. She closed the door quietly, begging the universe to keep you asleep long enough for her to get away. Where you were, Coriolanus Snow was never far behind. Lucy Gray quietly stalked off into the woods past the cabin, leaving any hope of returning to the lake or the cabin behind. She would go North, just like the original plan.

After hours of walking in the dark, the day would break- finally. Finally, she could breathe again. The sun was still rising when the smell of smoke reached her, making her furrow her brow as she looked around. Up ahead, between the trees, there was a fire sizzling out, coals still burning just enough to illuminate the area around it. She hears a twig snap a ways to her left and quickly jumps behind a tree to hide, heart racing and forcing her blood to start to seeping from her back again. She could feel it.

"Lucy Gray?" The use of her name makes her tense up, and she doesn't dare peak out of her hiding spot. "Lucy Gray, is that you?"

She knows that voice, but it's not Coriolanus, and it's certainly not you, but the Capitol accent still has the hairs on the back of her neck raising.

"It's Sejanus, you don't have to hide. I'm not gonna hurt you." Her eyes shut tightly. That's exactly what you had said to her before you tried to kill her. She couldn't trust Capitol folk. Not anymore.

"Lucy Gray..." The footsteps get closer. "I thought you were dead. She tried to kill me, too."

Lucy Gray opens her eyes, holding her breath as she peeks around the side of the tree trunk. Sejanus is there, several feet away with his hands held out to show her he meant no harm. "I'm not going to hurt you." He says again.

Taking a shaky breath she nods, stepping out from her hiding place but keeping her distance. "She tried to kill you?" She asks him. "You weren't there when we arrived... I thought you didn't make it."

"I was there. Just went to scout out what our path should be." He explains. "I heard it all. What he did to you..."

Lucy Gray shakes her head, looking down at her feet. "I thought I could trust 'em."

"I did too." He replies quietly. "They were my best friends. My only friends. They tricked us both, huh?" He laughs dryly, shaking his head.

"Apparently." Lucy Gray mumbles.

"Come. Sit. You must be exhausted." He nods for her to follow him back to his little camp where he had the fire going.

"I just want to know why." Sejanus mumbles after close to an hour of silence, both of them sat quietly by the now dying fire.

Lucy Gray stays silent, just nodding as she stares into the orange coals. "I should have seen it sooner. She was just so... odd. So back and forth. I should have known when she flipped a switch and turned into a whole new person when she showed up at the hob."

"You wouldn't believe the things I've seen that girl do." Sejanus agrees, tossing a stick onto the rubble of the fire. "She's crazy. I always thought that was a good thing, she stood up for herself, she wouldn't go down without a fight to get anything she wanted. She'd scream and throw things like no one's business when someone said something she didn't like. Lucy Gray, you have no idea."

"But you were friends with her. Why?"

"Why were you?" He asks, turning to her and raising an eyebrow.

Lucy Gray opens her mouth to answer, but she can't bring herself to say what she wants to.

"I get it." He admits. "She's good when she wants to be. I've seen both sides of her. She's... Complicated, but at the end of the day, I'm not much different than her. She's braver. Much, much braver, though. I mean, I've seen her get violent before, but nothing like that. I could never hurt anyone."

"They deserve each other." Lucy Gray mutters, and Sejanus hums in quiet agreement.

Snow littered the grounds of the presidential palace on the day Sejanus Plinth and Lucy Gray returned to the Capitol.

The whole building had a chill that stung Sejanus down to his core as he was lead through the large halls, the building more lifeless than it had ever been. Quiet. Haunting.

When he thought back on his life in the Capitol, a full lifetime ago, he did imagine at the time that you and Coriolanus would occupy the space; filling it with life and tones of red and laughter and love, despite everything the Capitol leaders had done. He had hope back then that you would have done better.

The guards open the doors to what appears to be a bedroom, large with endless opulent decor and a patio overlooking the back of the property.

He doesn't say anything when he enters and the doors are shut promptly behind him. He turns, seeing the guards had entered now. Likely, in an effort to protect him.

"Leave us, please." He prompts them quietly, voice rough from nothing more than the decades that had passed. The guards look confused, but obey anyways. Sejanus had been on the receiving end of your anger before, and he was one of few who lived to tell the tale. You wouldn't hurt him.

You were sitting at the window, looking out at the snow falling over your garden. You turn your head when you hear his voice, eyes already wide. You stand up slowly, holding the arm rest of the chair as you stare at him in shock. "Sejanus?" You ask, but it comes out more as a comment.

"Y/N." He smiles. Smiles. You could be sick.

You're not sure if this is a fault in your medication- if you had been distributed too many by Thirteens doctors and you were losing your mind, or if Sejanus Plinth was truly standing in front of you right now. You let out the slightest laugh from shock, eyes welling up with tears.

"It's good to see you." He says, taking steps toward you, hands held behind his back. He was older, like you, but you didn't have a doubt in your mind that it was him.

He had survived. All this time.

"Oh my..." You shake your head in disbelief as he opens his arms to you. After all this time- after what you did, something so long forgotten from your memory, he was greeting you with a hug.

You hug him back, once again unsure whether or not this was real. Perhaps this was the afterlife, and you had been executed by something so boring as an untraceable overdose. You certainly hoped not.

"Sejanus..." You cry, patting his arms as you pull away and looking him up and down.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles, almost inaudible to you even from right there.

"Sorry?" You reply, that same dry laugh falling from your lips. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I... You're alive. I'm proud."

"I'm sorry it had to end like this." He clarifies and you look down, then cast your gaze out the window.

"Yes, well... we have never been well liked." You admit.

"You were by me."

"But not anymore?"

He doesn't respond, motioning for you to sit down as he pulls over his own chair to sit across from you. You both sit down, and you continue to stare out the window.

"We had a good life. He gave me everything I have ever wanted." You sigh. "I apologize... for what we did that day. I have felt a great deal of... guilt, over it. I hope you know."

He nods, keeping his pleasant shock to himself. You were sorry. He didn't expect so much from you after what he had seen and heard of your actions over the years. "Why did you let us go?" He asked, and you look over at him again, your face falling into one of confusion.

"Us?"

"Me and Lucy Gray."

"Lucy Gray..." You mumble. "That's a name I haven't heard in years." You shake your head, hurt building up inside you. It doesn't settle well. "Not since Coryo told me that he had buried her."

This wasn't true, of course, you had brought her up a small handful of times since, but that was when you were under the assumption that she was under the brush in the woods of District Twelve by the cabin at the lake.

Sejanus's eyebrows raise. "I... No. She escaped. She is alive, too." He says, trying to gauge your reaction, but you keep much of your emotions to yourself. All that gave you away was the tear that fell down your cheek as you stared down at the greenhouse.

"I see."

"You are scheduled for execution tomorrow afternoon." He states. "Coryo will be the following day. Coin wants him to be hurt by your passing, there will be a big celebration and they want him to be a witness."

"A celebration." You chuckle, wiping your tear away. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

"Wouldn't you prefer to go together?"

The way you hesitate is what he knows is his ticket in. "That would be preferable." You say after a moment. "But we will be together soon, regardless."

"I have spoken to some people from Thirteen, and they are willing to let you go." He tells you, and you shake your head before you even think about it.

"No. I will not be happy without him."

"I think that's a hasty assessment." When you don't respond, your pride refusing to let you admit anything different, he continues. "Is that true? Or are you just so used to being with him that you can't imagine being happy without him?"

"He is my whole world, Sejanus." You answer honestly. You hadn't known anything different since you were eighteen years old.

"Y/N, one of the things I remember the most about you is that you won't let anyone get in the way of what you want. You've always been a true independent." He reminds you.

You're silent for a moment, reeling over the realization of what Coriolanus had truly done. To him, it was likely a harmless lie to keep you calm. To be able to leave you out there at the lake for days without fear, and it worked. But it could have cost you your life, if Lucy Gray was more vicious than she was.

"Lucy Gray saw you, in the cabin." Sejanus tells you, almost tracking your thought process. "That he had left you out there alone. She said you had never looked more peaceful than when you were sleeping."

Your blood runs cold and you slightly shake your head. He just confirmed your fears, and you think he knew that. She could have killed you, but she didn't. You were just as lucky to be alive as he was, and it was at the fault of your beloved husband.

"I never forgot what you did for me. You saved my life, then you could have killed me, and I count myself lucky everyday that I had made a friend in you." Sejanus says, reeling you in further. "And I just want to offer you that same freedom now. I know you deserve it."

You chew on the inside of your cheek, eyes still locked on the snow coated greenhouse outside. "I have some conditions."

After he leaves, you are escorted outside and down to the garden. You would spend what was meant to be your final night there, with your husband.

You wanted to hate him for lying to you, you really did, but you couldn't. If you were to hate him for anything he had done, that would have happened years ago.

"My execution is this afternoon." You say to Coryo, approaching him as he admires some of the roses.

He hums in response as you join his side, picking one of the delicate flowers and holding it out to you with a gloved hand. You smile as you accept it.

"We were happy, weren't we?" You say softly, smiling down at the rose in your hand.

"Indeed." He grins, looking at you now.

"We took a lot of risks, and that rewarded us."

He smiles. "I would say so."

It was the end and he knew it. There was no use in fighting anymore.

"Would you have done anything differently?" You ask him, taking a seat on the bench next to you.

"Maybe I would have let you step in to prevent that stunt those kids pulled last year." He comments, sitting next to you. "But when it comes to us... no. Not a thing."

You nod slightly, looking down. "Sejanus is alive." You tell him.

"Is he really?"

"Yes. I just spoke with him."

"What did he have to say?" Your husband asks.

In the very same way that he never told you about Lucy Gray, you never told him you let Sejanus go either. Were you really any better than him? "That he is sorry." You answer simply.

"Well, he got what he wanted." He replies. "He shouldn't apologize for that. We never have."

"I agree, but he was more sorry for us." You explain, reaching out to take his hand beside you. "That it had to end this way."

"I see."

"I only wish that our children would have had a better chance." You say softly. You gave them everything- they were spoiled rotten their whole lives and prepared to take your place, but they would never get that chance. They were to be executed just after you, if Coin got her way.

"We gave them everything we could. This is not our fault."

"No." You agree. "It isn't."

"What about Cecelia?" He asks quietly. Your granddaughter was extremely special to the both of you, to him especially. She looked just like you, and every time he looked at her it's all he could see.

"Sejanus agreed that she will be well cared for." You promise, squeezing his hand. "She'll be okay."

He nods slightly. "She looks more and more like you every day." He says, unable to help it. "I remember you, when we were her age."

You smile at the memories, nodding. "I miss those days."

"I hope you know how incredibly proud I am of you, darling." He admits, voice cracking as he looks at you. "I feel as if I didn't tell you enough."

"You showed me every day." You promise, patting your other hand over his. "You were the best person I could have had by my side all these years."

"I love you." He says, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"I love you too." You didn't want to talk anymore- you felt so incredibly guilty for deciding to leave him. It was betrayal. Maybe that is what would kill you.

You only have a few minutes before the glass doors are cracked open, and you look up. You know it's time. Commander Paylor is standing there with some guards, and she just nods at you.

You stand carefully, squeezing your husbands hand again as he joins you and remembering something you had heard him echo to you dozens of times.

Never let them see you bleed.

So it would be a silent goodbye. You drop his hand, looking up into his blue eyes for the last time as you take a step back.

He smiles as you raise your hand to your forehead in a salute. You don't need to speak- he knows what you mean. You weren't sure you could if you wanted to.

'Coriolanus Snow, future President of Panem, I salute you.'

He smiles, refusing to let the heat in his head manifest into tears as he gives you a curt nod, a slight bow. Your show was over.

You can't bring yourself to look back as you are escorted, for the last time, from your beautiful garden.

The sound of fireworks and music comes from the home Coriolanus Snow had shared for so many years with the love of his life. The most perfect person he has ever known, and he knows that the sounds of national celebration are his indicator of your passing. So that was it. You commanded and filled the energy of every space you entered, so he wondered now, after you were gone, why the air didn't feel any lighter.

He stared at the bare trestles that in the spring had always held up your raspberry bushes. They were gone, waiting to sprout in the spring. He can hear you, still.

'Raspberries are perennials."

Only then, when it was dark and he was alone, completely alone for the first time in years, did he cry over the weight of your death. Again.

All that was left of him was that boy on the train, crying over a letter he knew you would never receive.

Yours,

Always yours, your Coryo.

taglist:@totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @klplynn , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @gloryekaterina , @andrewgarfieldsbitch , @queenofspades6 , @pepperonipastas , @ladybug0095 , @lunamothwrites , @sbrewer21 , @mus-tbe-a-weasley , @splxtscreen , @unclecrunkle , @karmaswitch , @coconut-dreamz , @nekee-lilac02 , @ooooglymoooogly , @riddlerloveb0t , @lovedbalances , @notyourwildestdream , @snowlandson-top , @too-lit-for-fanfic , @utopiakys , @deafeningballoonnacho , @chmpgneprblem , @cosmoetik , , @urvampgfsworld , @carolanns-world @nan-nie , @shakespearseclipse , @iovemoonyy , @notyoursweetheart-honey , @xyzstar , @eatpizzasass, @slytherinholland , @queenofshinigamis , @elodiebeau , @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl

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kairiscorner · 10 months

Text

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

man... he's so annoying. and yet, so fucking dreamy.

summary: you were lauded as the only serious junior in the entire spider society. you did your work and loved doing it, you made no exceptions for any rules, not even for yourself. you loved order and civility, you fought hard in your universe to earn it, and you believed you deserved it here in the spider society and tried your hardest to uphold it. but when he showed up... you were gonna have a problem.

word count: 1,222 (crazy)

a/n: might be part 1 of something, or a oneshot, who knows !

you loved being a spider person, though of course, you'd never show it. you were looked up to by anyone who was anyone, everyone wanted to be like you. you upholded the law and ideals of society as a spider person, who'd've thought for your city to be civilized, all they needed was a spider-themed hero and they'd all bow down and listen?

it was because of your amazing abilities, tireless determination to serve and protect the people of your hometown that you were sought out by the spider society and became one of theirs. and you were the damn best at it. you found a new pleasure and hobby in beating up bad guys, being spotted over roofs of abandoned buildings, being pointed and gasped at by onlooker civilians, and saving the day as a friendly neighborhood spider person.

life was great like this, it followed one, linear path that everyone else did. it was the perfect pastime, the perfect job for you. you made a few friends and got along real well with jess and peter b, you had dibs on being jess' kid's mentor when it'd be born, and mayday absolutely loved you. you were peter b's go-to for a babysitter if he had to leave for a mission or go on a date night with mj. you were a trusted kid at the spider society, the adults had never met a kid as serious, responsible, and hard-working as you.

it was pure bliss, being part of the spider society.

until he showed up.

the moment he came in, you swore you heard a loud electric guitar strum reverberate throughout the halls. you felt the vibrations of it in every bone and muscle of your body, this guy couldn't have bothered you any worse. you groaned at the noise, asking others around you who that was. they shrugged, must've been some newbie, not that you cared, you just hoped they'd keep it down.

you cared for order and civility, and you found that in the spider society. despite there being some rogue ones and rebellious folks, you found yourself getting along with most of them. but you had a feeling that this newbie who made himself known through his flashy one note show might get on your nerves a little if he keeps that behavior consistent, but you digressed.

as you went over to the lobby to see what all the fuss was about, you soon heard another ear-piercing noise. it wasn't just one note that was playing now, it was a whole metal song. to make matters worse, some drummer girl joined him in, contributing to the noise.

"who the hell?" you asked yourself as you spotted a spiked spider man masked person with a black leather vest, buttons and pins adorning the lapels of it, with dark spider-doodled pants and long black boots with mismatched laces, yellow on the right and blue on the left. his mask had what appeared to be a runny look to it, the lenses of their mask ran down a little by the ends. their entire apparel screamed anarchy and chaos. and you loathed it.

"who's ready to overthrow an oppressive regime with me? an oppresive regime of boredom in this whole building!" the newbie's voice exclaimed. it was deep, yet smooth; it had a fluidity to it, almost as if he could say anything, and one would immediately listen, no questions asked. soon, everyone around you who was watching was buzzing as the guy played a loud metal song for all to hear. many were cheering for him and encouraging him to keep playing, but you soon noticed many of these people were on patrol duty. and many of them looked like they were more invested in this nutcase's impromptu performance over work, work that saves the multiverse, you thought as you reminded yourself.

"okay, people, this is cool and all, but we have work to do." you said as you tried to get the onlookers near you to listen to you, but it was for naught. none of them heard you over the incessant cheering, howling, and music in the air. you huffed as you shook your head, put your mask on, and swung over to the makeshift stage they had that was made of wooden crates and cardboard boxes laying around.

as the guy was strumming away on his electric guitar, showing no signs of giving out, you took the mic away. "okay, this was a good show and all, but we have work to do." you announced yet again, which earned the groaning and disappointment of a lot of people.

"yeah, yeah, groan as much as you want, that won't stop mr. o'hara from freaking out at us the minute he comes back and sees this whole... gathering." you say, trying to quell the audience's thirst for more excitement.

"well, aren't you a prissy one?" asked the newbie with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. you rolled your eyes. "what you did just hindered a whole lot of people from their responsibilities here, newbie." you told him in a stern voice as you frowned at him, expecting him to be mature about this if he was recruited as a spider man.

he laughed as he thanked the drummer girl for her performance as she was packing up to leave, and turned to look back at you with a smirk from underneath his mask. "you're real cute for that, upholding orders from higher-ups you so badly want to please. that's not being a spider person, though. more like being... an obedient little dog." he teased as he bent over a little to look you in the eye.

up close, he was much, much taller than you, much bigger in nearly ever aspect. you gulped a little, but your frown and angry expression remained. "say what you want, my judgement stands. i'm also more experienced than you here, so if you want to survive, you listen to me." you whispered as he leaned in closer to you, smirk widening.

he took off the mask, and you were surprised to see just how many piercings he had, you didn't even have any piercings for earrings at the bottom of your ears, yet he had... so many. he grinned at you as he ran a hand through his thick hair in wicks. "i think i can manage on my own, little doggy." he teased as he ruffled your hair and chuckled a low chuckle.

"i mean it though, it's cute. if you wanna be more than just a little dog for the higher-ups, though... you'll know where to find me." he said with a wink as he put the mask back on and swung away.

you were left alone now, thinking about who you just met. he was, of course, rebellious and disorderly, everything you weren't aspired never to become. you knew nothing good came out of a discordant lifestyle like his, no matter how little you knew of him, you knew one thing.

"man, he's so annoying..." you complained aloud as you took the mic and hopped off the makeshift stage, ready to clean it up before the adults got back. 'and yet, so... dreamy.'

oh dear, looks like he's gonna be quite the pain in the ass for you.

lmk if i should keep this going babes, i loved this idea sm, thank you to my friend on the dc server for the idea :DD

tags !! @thecoolerdor @miguelswifey04 @pixqlsin @k4tsu3 @nokkihy @fictarian @bivivivii

#hobie brown #hobie brown x you #hobie x y/n #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown my beloved #atsv hobie #atsv x reader #atsv x y/n #atsv x you #hobie my beloved #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie spiderverse

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skvatnavle · 2 years

Text

A Friendly Push

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x reader

Warnings: some god ol' pining (so much pining!), kissing, SMUT! Handjob, fingering, protected sex (be smart and wrap it folks!) and fluff... lots and lots of fluff.

Notes: This might be one of the most self indulgent fics I've ever written, so bear with me. And I know I should focus on my WIPs, but ever since I saw Top Gun Maverick, this cutie has been all I could think about. But it's the first thing I've written in two weeks, so it was nice to feel inspired again 💜

A trifolded shout out to @a-reader-and-a-writer for 1) convincing me to write this, 2) beta reading and 3) for letting me use her awesome dividers. You are truly a gem! ❤️

words: 3.5K

Part two

When you started working at The Hard Deck, Penny had told you… well, rather warned you about the clientele. Being that close to the airbase, most of the guests were pilots blowing off some steam during the weekends.

Penny hadn’t exactly made a rule against dating the guests, but had told you to be cautious. She had been burned before, more than once, and didn’t want you to share the same fate. And you hadn’t really wanted to date any of them anyways. But that all changed the day the newest team walked through the doors.

One of them instantly catches your eye. Well, several of them did, cause you had to admit a few of them were drop dead gorgeous. But there is one guy, seemingly quieter than the rest. He immediately stands out although he walks silently behind the others.

As most of them banter around the pool table, having a regular pissing contest, he sits down on a stool with a cup of snacks, softly pushing his glasses up his nose, observing the others quietly. Every time he does that, he wrinkles his nose slightly in the most adorable way.

And when the others address him and he finally speaks, his voice is sweet with a southern accent. Bob. So that was his name. Well, callsign at least. You can’t help but smile as he brushes the crumbs of his uniform a little awkwardly.

Later that night he comes up to the bar and when his sweet, blue eyes fall on you, a blush slowly creeps up your cheeks. He was even cuter up close. This was going to be a problem for sure.

“Ehm, hi. Could I get a beer, please?” he asks softly as he shyly pushes his glasses back in place. The soft smile he offers you just adds to his appeal. With no sleazy pick up line or wiggling eyebrows, this was definitely a first. Not that you would have minded if he flirted a little.

When you hand him the beer, he politely says thank you and gestures to go, but feeling brave, you gently shout after him.

“Are you new here? Haven’t seen you before.”

As he turns to you, a surprised expression adorns his face. Almost as if he can’t believe you were talking to him. Honestly, could this man get any cuter? He walks back to the bar, his cheeks already a bright red as he barely looks you in the eye, but still smiling.

“Yeah, ehm. I’m part of a special mission, but I-I don’t really know if I can tell you anything.”

“I get that a lot here, actually. But you can tell me your name, right?”

The corners of his mouth slowly turn into a sweet smile, his eyes finding yours. As if by habit, maybe a nervous one, he pushes at his glasses again.

“Robert Floyd. But they just call me Bob. Y-you can too.”

Repeating his name back to him, you give him another bright smile. The flush of his cheeks have spread to the tip of his ears and a little down his neck. Definitely not like the others. You give him your name, which he in return repeats with a smile. You notice there’s still some crumbs on his uniform, so you lean over the bar and brush them off.

“You had a few crumbs.”

Stunned, he just looks at you and he is about to say something before one of the others at the table calls for him. He gives you a soft ‘sorry’ before he joins the others again.

The rest of that night, you sometimes catch him looking at you. Each time he quickly looks away, trying to look indifferent. But if you keep looking long enough, sure as amen in church, he looks at you again, an awkward smile on his cute face and your heart would flutter each time. Yeah, you were definitely in trouble.

Another good thing about working on The Hard Deck besides the clientele, was the beach right outside the doors. What made that even better was one day when the infamous Maverick decided to do some team building. And that’s how you found yourself sitting outside the bar, looking towards the water.

And oh, what an amazing team building it was. Beach football on a hot day was equal to you gawking at the pilots as they were running around, the sweat pouring down their exposed, chiselled pecks. Except for Bob. Much to your dismay, he kept his shirt on, but it kinda just made you like him even more.

Maverick had asked for some refreshments, and you were happy to oblige, giving the thirsty pilots their drinks after their game ended. Luckily, the game seemed to have worked. They were all happy and seemed like a tighter knit unit now. As they down a few beers, they all seem much friendlier, like a family.

Looking to the side, you find Bob sitting with a beer in hand, looking at the sunset with a content smile on his face. You sit down next to him, getting a shy smile in return when he sees you.

“You all looked pretty good out there.”

"Some more than others." He counters softly, obviously talking about the two taller men of the group. Rooster and Hangman, you believed they were called. And sure, they were very easy on the eyes, but you only had eyes for Bob.

“I guess it depends on who's watching." You try softly, but he just fiddles with the label of his beer, clearly not taking the hint. So you had to be more obvious, then.

"It sucks a little I didn’t get to see you without your shirt.”

Bob almost chokes on his beer, as he turns to you in disbelief. It’s a bold move on your part, but you hope it pays off. As he searches your face for any indications you’re messing with him, you just keep smiling genuinely. If only he knew how much you meant it and how badly you actually wanted to see him with less clothes on.

“M-maybe next time, I… I’ll take it off just for you.” he manages to nervously stutter as his smile grows bigger than before. Dammit, if it doesn’t make the heat go straight to your core. Every fibre of your body is screaming for him, never before felt this kind of attraction to anyone.

“I’ll look forward to that.”

You lean a little against him. Whether it’s to emphasise your statement or simply because you need to get closer to him, you don’t know. Maybe both. The sweetness and innocence of him draws you in like a moth to a flame. Biting your bottom lip, you look to his lips, wondering if they feel as soft as they look.

Glancing up, you find Bob looking into your eyes, his beautiful blue ones searching yours. Nervously, he leans in closer, his eyes darting from your lips to your eyes. His tongue wets his lips, images of what that tongue could do to you flashes through your mind. Boy, did you want him. So bad.

You close the distance, your lips almost touching. His breath is hot on your skin, coming out in small quick huffs. He’s clearly nervous, but so are you.

The shout of your name makes you pull away, looking towards the bar. Penny is waving at you, the rush hour beginning. Dammit. Seconds away from finally kissing Bob and she has to ruin it. You turn to him and even though you’re mad at Penny for ruining the moment, the look on Bob’s face makes you smile. His cheeks burning red, his eyes and mouth drooping like a hurt puppy.

Not exactly enjoying seeing him hurt, it still makes you happy to know he wanted this as badly as you. You at least hope that’s the case and it’s not just because of the beers. But you still opt to giving him a quick kiss on his cheek.

“I’m sorry, I… I have to go back”

“No worries, I-I’ll see you in there.”

He offers you a sweet smile, as you stand. Going back to the bar, you curse Penny for ruining the moment, but hopefully you’d get a chance again.

He couldn’t even count the times he’d caught himself looking at you. 10? 20? But he just couldn’t help himself, so captivated by your beauty every time he walked into the bar. Your smile would always be the highlight of his evening, your laugh making his heart swell every time.

If only he weren’t so damned shy, he’d done something a long time ago. Countless times he’d gone over his little speech in his head, practising what he’d say if he ever found the confidence to finally tell you how he felt. He had flown dangerous missions, yet this made him feel more nervous than ever before, way out of his element.

He wasn’t exactly the most experienced guy, always been kind of a wallflower. And you were the opposite. Outgoing with that constant radiant smile on your perfect lips, able to talk to everyone you meet. Even a little flirtatious, according to Hangman. He kept insisting that you had been flirting with Bob, but he couldn’t really believe that. A girl like you choosing a guy like him, when guys like Hangman and Rooster were around? Not a chance.

But… There had been that day at the beach. You had actually chosen to talk to him, not the others. And there had been an almost kiss. Maybe it was just in the heat of the moment, but ever since then, you were all he could think about. Well, that had actually been the case for several weeks, but after the way you looked at him that day? The setting sun playing on your beautiful face, making you even more gorgeous than any woman he’d ever met before? Boy, had he fallen. Hard. But he had barely seen you since, training so hard every day.

“Okay, that is it! I’ve had it!”

Looking to the side, Bob finds Hangman staring at him, clearly annoyed. All the others are looking too. Oh God, once again he hadn’t been paying attention, mesmerized by you. Fixing his glasses, he tries to look indifferent as he turns to Hangman.

“I’m sorry, I was-”

“Staring at your little crush again? Yeah. So, when are you gonna do something about it?”

All eyes on him, Bob is hit with a sudden wave of insecurity. One thing was talking to you without anyone seeing it, but with all of them knowing? Oh boy, this was embarrassing. Hangman leans in closer, looking him straight in the eye with that smirk of his.

“Look, she is cute. So if you’re not gonna do anything, I’m going in.”

“What? No. You wouldn’t-”

“Oh, I would. You have 10 seconds or I’m going up there. 10… 9… 8…”

Before he can reach 7, Bob stands up from his chair, swallowing hard. Looking over his shoulder, he sees you walking towards the backroom, tray of used glasses in your hands. So this was it. Not how he had planned it, but the thought of Hangman hitting on you was too much to bear. Straightening his shirt a little, he makes his way through the crowd towards the back.

Rooster moves in close to Hangman, grinning as they both look after Bob. He shoots him a glance.

“So… Were you really gonna hit on her?”

“Nah. Our boy just needed a little push.”

They laugh as they turn back to their game of pool.

After starting the dishwasher, you turn to find Bob standing behind you, fidgeting slightly with the hem of his shirt. He looks nervous, more than usual, as you make your way to him.

“Bob? Is everything okay?”

Nodding softly, he finally looks up and into your eyes. You can see something is wrong, so you close the distance and put a reassuring hand on his arm. It almost feels like he shivers under your touch. He opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, but stops. Looking around, he frowns before taking you by the hand, leading you out the backdoor.

“Ehm, what are we doing out he-”

He steps closer, the intensity of his gaze so foreign it makes you stop dead in your tracks. He looks so nervous, yet still so determined, as he softly takes one of your hands in his, slowly looking into your eyes.

“I, ehm… I didn’t want our first kiss to be in the kitchen.”

He looks down with a shy smile. Finding your eyes again, he pushes his glasses in place as he shakes his head.

“And now I ruined the moment again by sayin-”

Crashing your lips to his, he stops talking. Once he realises what is happening, he kisses you back, his hand slowly cupping the back of your head. Pulling you closer, he deepens the kiss with a soft moan that sends shivers down your spine. Pulling him even closer, your kiss turns almost desperate, pouring the weeks of yearning into it. Too soon he breaks away, panting heavily. But the look on his face is of pure joy as he looks at you.

“So… I don’t know if I can squeeze in a date before we leave, but…” he pauses, looking sad at the prospect of leaving you. “But maybe I can take you out when… if I get back?”

He averts your gaze, looking at his hands. Looking hurt, like he expects to get turned down, it almost breaks your heart. Cupping his cheeks, you make him look at you.

“I would love that, but… I have a better idea.” You say softly, before pulling him into another desperate kiss. “How about I take you home with me when my shift ends?”

His breath hitches for a second, his hands gripping your hips a little in anticipation. Unable to respond, he just nods frantically with a shy smile. You give him another kiss, barely able to pull away from him, wanting nothing more than to stay in his arms.

As he makes his way back to the others, he can’t hide the giant smirk on his face. He kissed you. He actually kissed you. He had imagined how that would be like for weeks, but nothing compared to the real thing. Embarrassed to admit it, he even got a little hard from that kiss.

Still in disbelief it had actually happened, he sits down at the table and takes a sip of his beer, laughing a little to himself. When he looks up, he finds the others looking at him, all with knowing smiles on their faces.

“So…?”

Bob just smiles softly, taking another sip as Rooster is leaning in over the table, looking at him with a grin. Bob just picks up a cup of snacks and chew on a peanut, before looking up.

“So… what?”

“Ah, come on! You know what we’re talking about. How did it go?”

Hangman sits down beside him, throwing an arm around Bob and shakes him, causing Bob to giggle softly. He pushes his glasses up his nose, trying to act indifferent. Which he knows is hard with the grin that will permanently be edged into his face from now on.

“I, ehm… I never kiss and tell.” He starts off softly, before realising what he just said. As Hangman and Rooster’s curious faces slowly turn excited, Bob covers his face. “Damn, I should not have said that.”

Happy for their friend, Hangman and Rooster shout excitedly as they sit down beside him, ordering another round of beers, wanting to know every detail.

At midnight, you stand outside the bar, tapping your foot impatiently against the wooden deck. But soon the door opens, and Bob comes towards you, still with a big grin on his face. Not sure you can wait much longer, you take his hand and drag him to your car.

The drive home is long… too damn long. But soon you park outside your building and guide him towards the door. You fidget impatiently with the key and when Bob moves in closer, placing a soft kiss to your neck, you almost drop the key.

“Kinda making it hard to concentrate here, Floyd” you grin, as you try one more time. He just laughs softly against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers through your body. As soon as the door swings open, you pull him into a needy kiss. As you drag him with you to the bedroom, you almost combust with desire, wanting him so much it hurts. But as you’re about to pull him down onto the bed, he pauses and for a second the shy Bob is back.

“I want you to know, ehm, I’m not just here for sex. I-I really like you.”

“I know” you say softly, kissing him more passionately before. Moving a little slower, you softly pull him with you as you lay down. You unbutton his shirt, and it quickly finds it’s way to your floor. As you take in his great physique, Bob blushes under your gaze.

“I know I don’t exactly look like Hangm-”

You stop him with a soft kiss as your hand gently caresses his chest. With a body like that, he has no reason to be shy, but you get it. So you just pour every ounce of love you can into the kiss, before looking into his eyes.

“You are gorgeous, Robert.”

Swallowing hard, he looks teary eyed as he dips down and kisses you. Within no time at all, all your clothes are on the floor. His touch is gentle, yet firm, as he explores every inch of you. His fingers gliding over your skin as if storing you to his memory in case this is the only night he gets with you.

Moving down his body, you find his cock already painfully hard. Wrapping your fingers around him, he hisses at the contact, his breathing already strained.

“Please…”

At his soft plea, you start stroking him, pulling small whimpers from him. Bob bucks against your hand as his mouth moves to your breast, kissing and sucking at the tender bud. Letting your nipple go with a soft pop, his mouth finds yours again in a feverish kiss.

When he moves his hand down to your aching core, he finds you already soaking wet. It doesn’t take long for him to make you fall apart, moaning out his name.

“Can… Can I p-please make love to you?”

“God yes.”

His fingers continue to roam your body as you reach into your drawer for a condom. Ripping the packet open, you quickly put it on, not wanting to go another second without Bob buried in you. He pushes you down gently, kissing you softly as he repositions himself between your legs. Just as the tip of his cock is at your entrance, he looks to you a final time for confirmation.

And with a nod, he finally pushes into you. Slowly at first, the stretch of him is delicious as he lets you adjust to his size.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“More than okay.”

He starts thrusting into you at a slow and steady pace, but soon he pushes a little faster, but still very soft. It's unlike anything you've tried before. So caring and tender, whispering small praises in your ear, yet fiery hot as each snap of his hips makes him push against that sweet spot inside you.

It's not long before his pace begins to falter, his thrusts becoming uneven. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it gently in rhythm with his thrusts, keen on making you come before he does.

It only takes a few more drags of his cock combined with those magic fingers of his, before you come undone. The feeling of you clenching down on him is too much to bear and Bob follows close behind you, groaning as he thrusts a few more times, riding out his high.

He slumps against you, careful not to put all his weight on you. But you don't mind. You could spend days like this, pinned beneath him. And hopefully you would.

Pulling away, he quickly discards the condom and pulls you closer into his nook. Looking very content, he gives you a sweet kiss to your forehead before his hand finds yours, softly interlacing his fingers with yours.

"I should have said something sooner. What if all I ever get with you is tonight?"

His words hit you like a freight train. You both know there's a possibility he'll be assigned to fly the mission and from what little you've picked up, you knew it would be almost impossible and very dangerous. There really was a chance he'd never come home.

Putting on a brave face, you kiss him gently on the cheek, making him face you. When he does, you plant another kiss on his lips, deepening it a little.

"I know you'll come back. We have a date, remember? So you better show up for it." you whisper against his skin, as you bury your face into his neck. He just smiles softly in return, kissing your forehead as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

"Yes Ma'am. And I'm looking forward to it."

Thank you so much for reading <3

Tagging was hard, since I don't know who likes Top Gun Maverick or Bob, so I'm tagging a few of my usual peeps. No hard feelings if this is not you: @fictionalnerdery @lucy-sky @loverhymeswithlibrary @yespolkadotkitty @mindidjarin @chasingdreamer

And then a few people who I noticed loved Top Gun Maverick, I'm giving a soft tag? Please just let me know if you don't want to get tagged: @mmurdock85 @edwardbaldwin @lorecraft @srry-itshockeyszn @jakelcckley

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob x reader #bob floyd x reader #lewis pullman #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #robert bob floyd x fem!reader

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leohamatoblog · 30 days

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As a Dad: Leo Edition

note: hey everyone! happy Ramadan, happy Easter, happy Passover, happy Vaisakhi, happy Hanuman Jayanti, happy Mahavir Jayanti, and happy days to secular folks! i hope you all are having a safe holiday.

Authoritative

• there isn't much that we all collectively agree on more about leo than the fact that he's somewhat of a bossy dude

• that being said, he does mellow out in his older years and becomes more laid back...then he had children (biologically by some miracle or by adoption)

• he read every single baby book he could get his hands on but then they went out the window when he realized that parenting is nothing like what they say in books

• the 0-8 month phase wasn't so bad, his sleep schedule is wonky so mostly he's up with the baby. he's very calm, very soft spoken, and gentle with the baby when they're fussy cause they can't communicate

• bath schedule, eating schedule, sleep schedule, the man has schedules people.

• absolutely loves bath time cause he's the dad who will put the bubbles on his head to make the kid laugh (i dont make the rules)

• loves the pre-walking stage the most cause you just put them on the floor and let'em roll and crawl in a confined space

• lord help this man at the walking and talking stages

• he tries to get your kid to talk but all the kid wants to do is scream so..there's that idea gone

• when the kid wants to run around naked while leo's trying to get the diaper back on, now that is where he gets tested cause that little shit-

• incredible amount of patience though, especially with tantrums. splinter never raised his voice at him as a kid until he became a teen, so he wanted to carry that on with his own children

• now when your kid hits the 3-8 stage, oh boy. if leo could go grey, he would be grey.

• he tries to teach your child discipline and respect, and while your kid is respectful, unfortunately they have leo's sharp tongue and makes it everyone's problem

• leo believes in time outs or taking things away as punishment. he doesn't believe in spanking and thinks yelling accomplishes nothing. he does get a certain tone that makes it known he means business

• he knows full well your child is going to make mistakes and creates a safe environment to where your kid can come to him when this does happen without much punishment

• but we all know that's a perfect world and if it's leo's kid, their mouth is going to be their downfall

• he thought the 3-8 stage was bad until ages 13-17, oh boy.

• puberity is not on leo's side here

• grounding becomes more of a ritual and leo runs a tight ship. he will hold his grounding opinion until he thinks it should be lifted, no matter how long it takes

• of course your kid is also a ninja so sneaking out is a thing (leo can't get too mad cause he did the same but "do as i say and not as i do" is leo's famous line)

• reasonable parent and thinks carefully about how severe a punishment should be or if the circumstance really even calls for one

• chores, bedtime until they hit around 13, the kid must have at least an A/B average, a C is acceptable if the subject is particularly hard and the kid is trying their best

• dorky dad. just a dorky dad.

• dad sneezes

• doesn't strike me as a girl dad or boy dad cause he's so attentive no matter the gender

• he's the dad that doesn't call it babysitting cause it's his kids

• he will get down on the floor and play with his kids

• has a little girl? no problem dressing up and letting her do his makeup and nails

• has a little boy? wrestling and rough housing it is

• kid(s)will be respectful and smart, and just very genuinely nice kids

• kid(s)'ll also deck someone with no hesitation

• vegetables are non-negotiable

• very proud man when it comes to his children and never hesitates to praise them

• the children will each have special nicknames

• he's not the fun parent but is also not not the fun parent

• never misses an event, even though he has to attend in the shadows. he is always there

• affectionate dad, more verbally than physically, but he gives your kids head kisses all the time

• as long as the kids aren't trying to kill each other and are just playing, the noise doesn't bother him much...it's the silence that does

• definitely the type of dad to send 👍

#rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2012 #tmnt ask blog #tmnt bayverse #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #ask blog #tmnt 2003 #tmnt headcanons #tmnt imagine

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tiredfox64 · 29 days

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Blessed with his favor

Prior notes: Let’s do this again folks. Let that criminal be thankful I’m not deciding their fate. Also that outfit where he got his titty out got me acting like a fool 😩🤌. (I’m sorry I raw dogged it again, I’ll fix it)

Pairing: Rain(MK11) x Worshipper! Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: NSFW, can we even say god complex if he’s a god?, praising (as a treat), blowjob, creampie, cockwarming (that’s his treat)

No one needs Rain to be their ally, but they don’t need him to be their enemy either. Lord Raiden surely doesn’t need Rain pestering him or risking harm to Earthrealm.

You’ve been a disciple of Raiden’s for quite a while. You helped out with Liu Kang and Kung Lao all the time. One of your roles was to be a messenger of sorts. And right now that will be your sole role for a while. because you will be giving the Prince of Edenia gifts. Luckily, you have some craft hands with a creative mind. So thinking and making a gift for him won’t be the hard part. It’s the delivery part that scares you. As much as he didn’t want to do this to you he found it might be the best course of action.

So you got to work. The first gift? A ring. A ring with an amethyst gem in the middle. Gained straight from a geode. Hopefully the prince will love it.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Rain was already moody. Upset with the lack of worshippers, upset with the lack of allies, upset with Kitana for not freeing Edenia. The palace was tense as everyone would occasionally hear Rain grumble as he sat on his watery throne. Only one guard was brave enough to approach Rain as they had something important to tell him. They quickly informed him that he had a guest and they have something special for him. Immediately the grumbling stopped and his head slightly perked up.

“Is that so? Who is this person that has a gift for me?” He asked the poor guard.

“I believe they said they were someone close to the Protector of Earthrealm. They said they had a gift for you as a way of showing peace.” The guard just wanted to be done already.

Rain contemplated letting this person in. An Earthrealmer wanting to make peace? He almost didn’t want to entertain the idea. But the sound of a gift just for him did entice him to accept them in. He alerted the guard to let the person in quickly.

And there you were, strolling in with a small box in your hand. Your steps were careful, too afraid to move fast in front of the guards. The sight of Rain almost made you turn back around. Maybe cause he was a demigod. Maybe it was his muscles that scared you. Maybe it was his outfit that showed half his chest area. You didn’t wanna get caught staring so your eyes shifted everywhere but there.

You made your way to Rain. Just one look into his eyes and you were petrified to mess up. You went down on one knee before him and had your head lowered. You were looking down at the floor before speaking.

“I have a gift for you, your highness. An act of worship. I’ve made this gift with my own hands, just for you.” You swallowed hard when you finished talking.

“Well I never would have expected someone from Earthrealm to actually come and worship the prince. A wise choice, even from someone who seems close to Raiden.” His voice sounded like honey to you, almost tempting you to look up at him. “Open the box, earthrealmer. I want to see this gift.”

You did just that. You opened the box. At first it revealed what seemed to be a rock. Rain almost believed this was a joke that would end up getting you killed. You quickly flipped open the rock only to show it was a geode. The same geode you used to make the amethyst ring. There the ring was in the middle. If only you could have seen Rain’s face when you showed him the true gift. There was a sparkle in his eyes and he could feel his heart beat quicken a little. It was gorgeous.

“My my, what a lovely ring. And you said you made this yourself?” He asked as he took the ring out and placed it on his ring finger.

“Y-yes, I did. It’s a talent of mine. And I found the gem to be just right for you. Perfect for a prince.” You are saying the right words to him.

He just admired the ring and how it fitted him perfecting. The beautiful purple gem shined in the light and the gold band matched well with his other rings. No one has ever been so thoughtful, so creative with their offering to him. He had such a smug smirk on his face before looking down at you again.

“Excellent craftsmanship, earthrealmer. You have pleased me. I would have never expected that from someone like you.” He said it so condescendingly but you had to bite your tongue.

“Thank you, your highness. I’m grateful to please a man like you.” You said before looking up and seeing that smug smirk on his face growing larger.

You got back on your feet and handed Rain the geode case. You started to walk away before hearing Rain call out to you one more time.

“Oh and earthrealmer, I do wish for you return soon. I’d love to see what else you can do.” All you could do was nod before getting out of there like a bat out of hell.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You did well to make the prince happy. Rain was more than delighted to have a worshipper who used her own hands to create gifts for him. It’s what he felt he deserves as the Son of Argus. He was in love with the feelings and the gifts. You did your best to balance your life while also having the time to make Rain gifts to bring to him each week. Whenever a guard or servant came to him he anticipated hearing that you just arrived. If it wasn’t that he quickly grew disappointed before acting as if all was fine. More and more you gave, necklaces, more rings, a box to keep the jewelry in, beautiful stones, and geodes you would find and crack open. Each time his heart would race and his desire grew almost unbearable. Even just the sight of you made him grow hard and he had to control himself.

You were already sensing that he was getting a bit too attached with you. He was getting touchy as well. His fingers would lightly graze your hand and wrist when he took the gifts from you. He would tilt your head up to look at him as he spoke to you. Sometimes he would even place his hand at the top of your head, almost petting you at times. Each time you froze up.

Yet Lord Raiden kept sending you over and you kept making those gifts. With how happy you were making Rain there was less to worry about. Even Kitana was saying she hadn’t had any instances with Rain causing problems in Outworld. You had a lot on your shoulders and you couldn’t mess things up. You will just be careful from now on. Except Rain had different ideas.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

When you arrived back you thought you would be going straight to the throne room. But a guard guided you somewhere else. You didn’t really know where you were going but you did see a lot of guards standing near one door. They opened the door and before you could comprehend what the room was you were pushed in, hearing the door slam shut behind you. Well that was just rude.

“My favorite worshipper. I see you have another gift for me.” You heard the playfulness in his voice.

You recovered a little and started glancing around the room. It was just as luxurious as the rest of the place but the furniture inside told you all. You’re in Rain’s bedroom.

Why am I here? Why are we not in his throne room? Why is HE not in his throne room? Is he getting too comfortable with me? He’s getting too comfortable with me.

You were lost in your own thoughts you didn’t realize you were standing awkwardly in front of him. You dropped down on one knee immediately and held out the gift for him. Just like you usually do. Just like how this should go.

“Yes I do. I always have something just for you.”

“Of course you do. But I do feel bad that you are always on one knee,” There was sarcasm in his words, “It must be hard to stay steady like that. Here, let me help.”

Before you could protest or ask what he meant by that, Rain slightly kicked in front of him which cause a tiny wave to form. The wave pushed your ankle which almost made you fall on your face. That’d be embarrassing. You luckily balanced yourself without dropping the gift. But now you’re fully kneeling in front of him. Kneeling like you truly worshipped him and prayed to him. Before you could even ask him what is the meaning of this, Rain got very close to you. Too close for comfort. He took the gift from your hands and placed it somewhere else, not even looking at it. His hand lifted your chin up and held your face in place so you were forced to look at him. That look in Rain’s eyes didn’t sit right with you. He looked…hungry…desperate for something.

“I have been loving every single one of your gifts so far, earthrealmer. You do better than anyone in Edenia could ever do. There is one thing, however, that I would love to receive from you. You’ve been very obedient so I don’t think this will be an issue.” His tone slowly because more lustful.

You can’t act ignorant anymore. You knew what Rain wanted. The position tells you all. Raiden didn’t have any plan for you to escape this. You almost didn’t want to escape this. This probably would do good for everyone involved. And who else could say they sucked a god’s dick. Well, demigod.

“I guess today you will receive a different kind of worship. Hopefully this kind will make you just as happy as my gifts did.” You said in a low voice as you watched Rain’s eyes widen in delight.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

The sight of you on your knees for Rain will be something he treasures. Your pretty lips wrapped around his cock as you struggled to take it all in. His hand had a grip on your hair as he continued using your mouth. Even when you tried to place your hands on his thighs to prevent him from going too deep that did little to stop him. Though it did excite him more knowing you were struggling to take him in. Little bits of drool started slipping out as your tongue kept swirling around his tip. You have no idea how long this could last so you better give it your all.

Rain could not hold back from groaning as he lightly thrusted into your mouth. The more he did it the closer it got to the back of your throat. When you felt the tip hit the back of your throat you gagged a little before recovering. The feeling was so new to you. You were choking on it yet it felt so thrilling. Your jaw couldn’t handle this.

“Look up at me, worshipper. Look up to your god.” Rain commanded you.

And you obeyed that command. With teary eyes you looked up at him as he used you for his pleasure. And because you obeyed he truly felt like he owned you. You were his worshipper, loyal to him. The thought alone and seeing those pretty eyes sent him over the edge.

Rain’s head went back as thrusted into your mouth one more time. The tears that formed in your eyes slipped down your cheeks as you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth. His cum slipped down your throat, forcing you to swallow it all. You never knew when it would end. When it did he pulled out of your mouth to allow you to breathe. He could see how your drool covered his cock, even a string of saliva that still was connected between it and your mouth. After catching your breath you felt his hand grab your face, forcing your mouth to stay open. He looked into your mouth as if he were observing it.

“You swallowed it all, what a good worshipper.” Rain praised you surprisingly before letting you go.

You thought that would be the end of it. You pleased him, that should be all. Oh please, this is Rain we are talking about, it’s never enough for the Son of Argus. That’s why he grabbed you again and dragged you to sit on his lap. You let out a little ‘huh’ before he started speaking again.

“Don’t tell me your can’t handle anymore. There is still much to do.” He whispered as he forced your pants and underwear off.

You let out a little yelp as you tried to collect your clothes again, worried that he actually ripped them. His arm was wrapped tight around your waist as his other hand went to take your shirt off. He must do this with a lot of women cause that was too quick. Your mind couldn’t comprehend anything. Rain seemed desperate to have you. And he was desperate to look at you as he fucked you.

“Woah, woah, woah, wait, are you sure you wan-“ You got cut off when you felt his cock being pushed into your pussy, causing you to let out a little moan.

Rain gave you a few seconds to adjust to his size before thrusting into you. Those few seconds were not enough as it still felt like he would split you in half. Your hands gripped onto his shoulders as you tried to adapt to it all. Meanwhile Rain was more than pleasured. Feeling your pussy squeeze around his cock and feeling your nails dig into his shoulders drove him crazy. He started leaving kisses on your neck that soon turned to sucking. It made you shiver as you finally adjusted to his size.

You gave up on keeping quiet. The guards on the other side of the door already knew this would happen. Your heavy breathing and moans echoed in the room with the sound of skin slapping together accompanying it. All your fears and worries slipped away from you and all you could focus on was the pleasure. You payed no mind to Rain even as he started to lightly bite down on your shoulder. He was purposely trying to mark you. Hickeys on your neck and bite marks on your shoulder. The pain from it only intensified the pleasure.

“Doesn’t it feel good to worship me. Look at what I can provide you. All this…just for you.” He whispered in your ear as he shoved his cock deeper into you.

You’re seeing stars at this point. So loopy and cock drunk you just hummed in agreement. You felt that pressure building up inside you that told you were about to cum soon. Rain was just as close. So he got rough, slamming into your sweet spot over and over that it sent both of you over the edge.

You were surprised to feel Rain’s hand behind your head, pushing it down until you felt his lips against yours. His kisses were just as rough as everything else. You were thankful for it actually since it muffled all the moans that were coming from you. Your pussy milked his cock as he filled you up with his cum. You felt so full and warm inside.

You had to catch your breath again after that experience. Rain kept you on his lap and was letting you cockwarm him. It’s amazing that he was still hard after cumming twice. He actually liked holding you and enjoyed the feeling of your warm pussy surround his cock.

“That was quite wonderful, my worshipper. I must thank you again for doing this. I just know you loved it too.” He’s so arrogant but he was so right.

“By the elder gods…I can’t remember a man ever making me feel that way.” Don’t stroke his ego too hard he might explode again.

Rain chuckled at your words, his ego being boosted even more. Before he could say anything else to you there was a moment of clarity. How long have you been here? Oh dear…

You immediately got off of Rain even though your legs couldn’t fully support you. You had to lean on a nearby wall to help support you as you threw your clothes on. You felt his cum dripping down your leg which made you shiver with excitement. No time to think about that, just throw your clothes on!

“Aww, do you really have to go? I’ve been enjoying your company and we can still have more fun.” Rain said playfully as he watched you struggle to put your clothes on.

“Sorry, prince. I have to return to Earthrealm.” You excused yourself as you managed to put your clothes back on. You reached for the door handle before Rain said one more thing to you.

“I understand, my worshipper. But do remember to visit me soon again. I’d be devastated if my adorable, loyal worshipper never returned to me. If you don’t, I’ll get you myself. But that would mean a possible punishment.” Rain smirked at you, knowing he could mess with you all he wants. And of course you nodded frantically, knowing you were gonna return anyways.

And so you left his bedroom, stumbling out like you were drunk. The guards avoided you and you avoided them. Some did watch you as you leaned against the walls occasionally to make sure you wouldn’t fall. You better start thinking of an excuse as to why you were late coming back. However Lord Raiden might already understand why that is, the evidence is all over your neck and shoulders. What a day you had.

After notes: Y’ALL! I can’t believe people actually liked my work. That’s actually insane to me, thank you all. I would have popped this one out earlier but uh…it was a Sunday. I already messed up by posting on Good Friday I won’t post stuff like this on Easter Sunday. But please I hope y’all like this one I think MK11 Rain needs hella love (even if he is a little arrogant and dare I say moody). If things go well I might do more characters because my heart is open to others. And if you wanna know my AO3 account where I will probably post this over on there as well it’s GalacticFox_64. Adiós!

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 11 #mk11 #mk rain #rain mk #rain mk11 #rain x reader #mortal kombat x you #mortal kombat x reader #mk x you #mk x reader #mk smut #smut #rain

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theactualsunshinechild · 1 month

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My partner has planted the idea that Sampo could turn out to be an emanator of the Elation into my head and now I have latched on to the concept and keep finding little reasons to believe in it.

It got brought up mostly because of the rating gun ratings. March, Jing Yuan, Luocha, and Sampo all cannot be rated by the gun. Finding a link between them is hard, but with Acheron, a known emanator upcoming, and folks saying that she is also unrateable...

And I know, I know, Herta is already an emanator, yes, but we only have 4 star Herta available to us, AKA a mere puppet version of her.

Anyway, if we suppose that the unrated characters are some brand of Emanator, or maybe just Have Emanator potential? Consider:

March 7th, based on some of the tidbits we experienced playing Fu Xuan's story quest, has potential to have been, or maybe to become, an emanator of the Remembrance. Her inherent tie to the values of memories and wanting to gather more of them and recover what she can is very in theme.

Luocha, I think it is very safe to assume that he is very very likely to be an Emanator of the Abundance, if the Luofu arc and Jingliu's story quests are anything to go off of. Dude is SUS as FUCK and very VERY disturbingly good at abundance things to the point of being able to heal someone in an artificial body. And that's him hiding stuff.

Jing Yuan at the moment is giving us the energy of a guy with a lot of latent power in him that hasn't fully been brought to light. With the way he's given us a promise to come to our aid immediately when called, and his threat to Phantylia that the Hunt would pursue the Destruction could be foreshadowing his eventually becoming an emanator of the Hunt? This is pushing it of course, but I'm just spitballing possibilities here working off the assumption that the rating pistol can't rate Emanators successfully.

As for Sampo??? There would be nothing funnier than the dude we found cowering in a snowdrift who Dan Heng shanked with a spear turning out to be a wholeass Emanator. The guy runs on Looney Toons logic half the time, and breaks the 4th wall just like Aha. Comedy relief character as he is, but what if he embodied the divine will of the aeon of fucking around and finding out? Like, tell me, how did this Masked Fool manage to quit the fool stuff and fuck off to a planet no one has visited in centuries, within the last 10 years or so? Sparkle KNOWS him. He has Stories about him among the fools. She knew him before he retired to Belabog. How did he Get there??? An Emanator of an Aeon like Aha could probably pull something like that off....

Listen I don't know if it all makes sense, but it would at the very least be hilarious and for that alone i want it to be true

#hsr #honkai star rail #sampo koski #hsr sampo #march 7th #jing yuan #acheron #luocha #also the idea of Jing Yuan becoming an emanator and getting a new 5 star version of him is my copium #and then there would be memes about him finally getting that power nap he's needed for centuries

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clean-bands-dirty-stories · 8 months

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Babbling ~ P.P.

A/n: Sorry for missing Monday, but here’s this <3 Another request done :)

Request: “Tasm!Peter x male reader where reader gets invited to a party and brings Peter as his plus one or whatever and Peter getting drunk and touchy and confesses and saying how he wants to be with him and spend the rest of his life with him...” by anon

Word count: 2700+

MASTERLIST

Peter Parker and Y/n had always been a story for the ages.

It hadn't been life long friends, and their meeting hadn't been all that important. They'd had a class together and as both of them engaged with the content and asked questions and did reports and read out loud, their faces became familiar with each other. Then Spider-Man had gotten caught up in a fight and his mask had come off. Y/n had been stunned to see the big brown doe eyes of the cute guy in his AP bio class.

It had been the most anti-climactic thing, truly. Y/n had discovered a sight dedicated to "fangirling over Spider-Man" except that they didn't do much discussion or giving of content. However, when Y/n went through the internet looking for pictures with Spider-Man's face, there was a startling very few available. For how many hungry reporters and shocked civilian or eager tourist was here and with how often Spider-Man lost or destroyed or just straight up took off his mask, there should be more.

When he found that there were images, they were just unavailable, he deep dove it and used his skill witch coding to figure out what happened. And what he uncovered was stunning - the website "dedicated to fangirling over Spiderman" was either a cover, or they believed that the best fans were dedicated to keeping Spider-Man's secret identity a secret. Peter Parker was New York's little secret.

It made Y/n so curious to meet the man. So of course they had to.

Asking for notes or a pencil or complimenting a sweater or giggling at his jokes that he said under his breath turned into lunches together for convenience and then studying together and then suddenly they were friends. Exchanging phone numbers and inside jokes and nicknames.

It was obvious that he was Spider-Man if you knew what you were looking for. His poor excuses and his sudden exists and late entries. Cancelled plans right when Spider-Man was needed, and all for a job that didn't even pay that well.

Peter was fairly good at hiding it. He was a disaster - a mistake waiting to happen - but he had a whole city behind him so it was okay.

It made Y/n fall in love with Spider-Man even more.

And maybe Peter Parker too.

There was something about the boy though. Something darker that he shook off when he had the mask. Something heavy that was easy to miss when you couldn't see his facial expressions. There was a distance when Y/n would jokingly flirt or be physically affectionate. He offered to take Peter to meet his folks once and Peter had seemed... to not like that. He had squirmed and wriggled, desperate to get away. When he came up with an "emergency" and Spider-Man stopped a mugger and got a kite out of tree Y/n knew that he shouldn't bring it up again.

It was obvious that Peter had lost someone, so Y/n tucked away any realizations or feelings and let them stay casual friends. Not best friends, not truly close - always at an arm's length. But friends.

Until, of course, Peter got drunk.

Peter never wanted to go anywhere or do anything. Y/n was pretty sure he was depressed. Which had driven him to try and get Peter out more, to find him hobbies and past times. Peter had come to the parties and gatherings and slam poetries and walks and clubs Y/n had dragged him to, just like tonight, with the understanding that if he needed to leave he could at any moment.

It didn't seem that moment would come tonight.

At some point Peter had put down his phone and walked away after having a few drinks, getting looser and more relaxed. He never went far from Y/n but seemed to have a hard time sitting still or staying in the same place. They paced or walked in circles and that seemed to do the trick. Y/n had noticed the other man put down his phone after checking the time and walked away again, so Y/n had snagged it for safe keeping. He would give it back tomorrow morning.

It took a lot or drinks for Peter to get proper wasted, but it happened. It seemed to be absent minded and on accident. He kept talking and walking, keeping his voice above the music in the room, and Y/n found himself trailing after in a love sick haze. Peter was gorgeous on his own, but the way his face light up and his hair got messier and messier... he was breathtaking when he went on rants, and Y/n was more than pleased to listen.

So he didn't stop Peter from drinking. And to be fair, neither did Peter.

Y/n knew they'd both made a mistake when Peter stopped walking, leaning against a table behind him and sighing. Y/n came closer to check on him and Peter reached out, fingers wrapping around Y/n's waist and face pressing into his shoulder. Y/n's body blossomed with heat and something akin to a buzzing, making him tense but giddy.

He tried to ignore that.

Peter sighed, leaning against Y/n, and the more sober of them gave a little chuckle. "You okay, Pete?"

"You're so comfy," was all Peter had to say. His voice was soft and airy, almost sleepy. But he had no problem mostly keeping himself up, nor did he seem to sway or buckle. He was just... drawn to Y/n. Like a magnet.

Y/n blushed. "Thank you."

Peter stared, for a long time, not saying anything. Y/n got nervous, shifting. The look was full of adoration and warmth. Admiration simmered at the edges, a sappy smile smearing across his face. "Did I ever mention that you look really attractive when you get all..." he tilted his head, searching for a word. "Blushy." He giggled. "Shy? No. Not just shy, but reserved too. Nervous." His face flitted briefly into a scowl, but when he went from trying yo grasp the word in his mind to admiring Y/n again, the smile came back. "I'm glad we met."

Y/n couldn't get the courage to look at him. "So am I." He cleared his throat, melting under that gaze. Under those words. "Perhaps we should get home."

Peter nodded. "I don't want to be here anymore. Let's go somewhere - just us." He took Y/n's hands, taking longer to do so as he traced Y/n's fingers and sighed blissfully at the contact. Like he was relieved after so long wanting it. Like how Y/n did when he felt the touch.

"Yeah. If that's what you really want." Y/n closed his eyes, chastising himself and forcing himself to stay focused. "Tomorrow. Tonight you need sleep." He began walking, keeping an eye on if Peter needed help walking, but he didn't. Not surprising for the same Spider-Man that could balance on a string that seemed thin as hair, or cling to any surface.

Peter whined and Y/n had to hide a smile with his free hand. "Not tomorrow," he begged, tugging on Y/n's hand. It was almost like a child begging for candy in the store, but less dramatic and much mote desperate. The thought of leaving Y/n seemed to genuinely upset him... Y/n didn't know how to feel about that. "I'll go to bed if you spend the night."

Now that was dangerous.

Y/n only hummed in thought, actually considered it. Drunk people were hard to handle and even if he didn't, he would need to lie to Peter to get him home. If the superhero genuinely didn't want to go or decided that messing around with Y/n to prolong their time together it would he near impossible to get ahold of him again...

They got all the way to Peter's door before he spoke again. "Are you staying?"

Y/n gave him a sideways look as he pushed the door open, having snagged Peter's keys from his pocket. He'd thought he's gotten away with it after such a long silence, but it seemed Peter was eternally patient even drunk. He sighed as they moved into the apartment, Peter always snatching Y/n's hand the second they were free. "Why does it matter so much to you that I stay, hm?" He pulled himself away from the drunk man again, closing the door and putting the keys away. Pulling Peter's jacket off and removing his shoes and grabbing a glass of water and Ibuprofen for tomorrow morning, setting it on the table at Peter's bed. It was only when he seemed finished, about to head out again, that Peter caught him.

Holding one of Y/n's hands in each of his, looking deep into his eyes, Peter didn't just seem genuine, he seemed raw. Exposed. "Y/n. I've been punishing myself for so long... always alone. For so long." He closed his eyes, pressing their foreheads together. "It's suffocating me, the loneliness. And you make it easier to breathe. So... stay. If you want." He swallowed before adding a breathless, "Please."

Y/n's heart was ramming in his chest. "If you need a friend tonight, I can of course stay." He added friend on purpose this time - to remind himself.

That seemed to upset Peter though. "Don't call yourself that. Please, please don't-" he closed his eyes tightly. "I know we're friends. And I'm goad we're friends. But don't remind me we're friends when I want to kiss you so badly. Please."

Y/n's breath caught. "Pete-" He stopped himself. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. "Drunk words are sober thoughts. That's a popular saying for a reason."

Oh god.

"You- I-" Y/n's face was burning and he was running out of reasons to go. Ways to deny it. Peter was Spider-Man. There's so much Y/n still wasn't supposed to know. They'd been friends for a while now, and they were just getting close. There was still that gap though. That space that Peter kept.

Now he was throwing all of it away.

Peter didn't wait for Y/n to form thoughts. He let go of Y/n's hands, reaching up for his face instead. Peter's face trailed Y/n's jaw. "Can I kiss you? I... I've wanted to kiss you for so long. If you felt the same way. The way your heart is racing, I thought you might."

Y/n's eyes widen. Of course he can hear heartbeats. The world wouldn't be as unfair as it was if he couldn't.

But also, how could be lie now? When Peter knew he was? And maybe it was selfish, and he'd get his heart broken in the morning, but Peter was begging and god if Y/n wasn't just as eager.

"Okay."

There was no hesitation after that. Y/n had expected raging fire, or fireworks, but there was none of that. It was relief, cool to the touch like a breeze on a sweltering day, or a breath after drowning. It was laying in bed after a long, exhausting day or drinking something warm and sitting by the fire after a day of ice and snow.

Y/n did more than just stay over. It happened so fast, each kiss getting more and more desperate until their hands were wandering and they were falling back onto the bed and Peter didn't stutter a single second. He didn't stumble or hesitate. He had seemed to drink so much but all his words came easily, any slur he'd had before completely gone. He seemed sober.

Y/n was an idiot.

He tried to leave, but Peter had gripped onto his arm and begged him to stay. So Y/n woke up next to him in the morning, slipping out of bed and wandering into the living room.

Okay so that had just happened.

He felt like a villain. He felt like a moron. Peter had been drunk. FUCK he was a horrible person.

Out of part guilt and part anxiety, Y/n tidied the living room and kitchen before beginning to make breakfast. He couldn't in good will just leave Peter alone that morning, but he also couldn't stay in that bed. See Peter panic when he woke up and realized what had happened.

Would he panic? Would he be angry?

He would be justified to feel angry.

Y/n jumped when a set of arms wrapped around his waist from behind, a face burying into his shoulder. "Smells good," came Peter's muffled voice.

Y/n wordlessly finished the food, plating it and turning off the stove before turning to Peter. The brunette seemed weirdly unphased, taking each thing and making two plates, then wandering into the living room to set them down on the clean table, plopping onto the couch. He smiled. "And you clean? I'm spoiled."

Y/n crossed his arms over his chest, a little confused and a little annoyed. "Peter. We need to talk about last night."

The smile faded off of his face and it happened so easily that Y/n was stunned to realize it had been more fake than he'd realized. "I'm sorry."

That came as a shock too. "You're sorry? You? Peter, I'm sorry."

Peter looked up at that, narrowing his eyes in confusion. "I'm the one who was pushing you into-" He looked away. "You obviously regret it, and it was stupid, and I'm sorry I just-"

Y/n scoffed. "Peter, you were drunk. You were more honest than you usually are. That isn't a bad thing. But you were drunk, and I wasn't, and I completely took advantage of you and-"

Peter tilted his head. "I wasn't drunk."

Y/n froze. "What?"

Peter blushed. "Well- I was drunk at first." He looked away, fiddling with a couch pillow. "But by the time we got here I was pretty much sober. I have some what of a healing factor, so-"

Y/n's eyes widened. "You have a what?"

Peter looked back, his expression dripping with amusement. "Y/n, I'm not good at keeping secrets, and you're not good at it either. My mask is hanging up on the hook by the door and you hung up my keys next to it and didn't even blink."

Y/n's head whipped around and - sure enough - there was the mask.

Damnit.

He looked back sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... just..."

Peter laughed, standing from the couch. "It's okay. I... appreciate it, honestly. Most people demand explanations or details or ask an overwhelming questions. When I realize you knew?" He shook his head. "How long have you known?"

Y/n pursed his lip, shrugging. A... while."

Peter snorted. "Since the beginning then."

Y/n winced. "Not the very beginning."

Peter laughed again, this time closing the distance between them. "I don't know what you were beating yourself up for but I hope you realize that you don't have to. I was drunk, and that made me much more affectionate than I usually am... but, it was the affection itself that drove me insane. It was likeI'd been starving." He shrugged. "I probably was. But kissing you..." He smiled sweetly.

Y/n blushed. It was quiet for a moment before he asked, “So you’re glad last night happened?”

Peter grinned. “Yes. I am.” He shuffled, as if he wanted to ask something but felt too silly to do so.

“I’m glad it happened too,” Y/n eased. Peter melted in relief, his expression blooming with adoration - so close to the way he had looked at Y/n last night. Y/n took his hand, tracing the bones and veins. “Do you… want to be my boyfriend?” He cringed - it felt so silly to ask. Like he was in middle school all over again.

A chuckle came from Peter, but his answer didn’t follow in the form of words. Instead he reached over, catching Y/n’s chin and leaning into a kiss. They sighed blissfully at the same time, and Y/n divided that was answer enough.

Male Readers: @ravenpuff-oli @sortzz @fadedver

#Peter Parker #peter 3 x reader #peter parker x male reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #the amazing spiderman x male reader #the amazing Spider-Man #the amazing Spider-Man imagine #the amazing Spider-Man x reader #Spiderman x reader #Spiderman x male reader #Spiderman imagine #male reader #marvel

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clangenrising · 2 months

Text

Month 12 - Leafbare

Time was hard to hold onto these days. Scorch blinked and suddenly spring had arrived, cautiously thawing out the gardens and poking its flowers up through the soil. If she thought back, she could remember that she had spent the time studying to become an interpreter in between visits from Razor but the actual experiences of those moments tended to feel fuzzy and loose. She was grateful that she somehow managed to hold onto the knowledge of interpreting.

The act fascinated her. Each Name Charm was marked with symbols that the Folk used to convey meaning and slowly, she was learning to interpret it. Confined in her house as she was, Portia wasn’t able to do much teaching so she had put a young molly named Marmalade in charge of teaching Scorch how to understand the symbols.

Marmalade took Scorch through the neighborhood, usually with another cat along to ‘escort’, and showed her the symbols in different places. Now that they were pointed out to her, Scorch couldn’t stop seeing them. They were on the corner poles and the fronts of houses and the sides of cars and nearly every wall in the downtown area had some cluster of them somewhere. Marmalade would teach her what they said and then teach her how each symbol made up a piece of the meaning. She learned how to recognize the individual symbols wherever they appeared in the clusters and how there were two versions of each symbol for some reason.

It was honestly exciting. She couldn’t believe that all her life there had been meaning spread across the surface of the world and she hadn’t even known. When she was at home, when time was the most solid, she would wander around, discovering all of the different symbols in her home and trying to interpret them. They were everywhere, on the food boxes and her dish and flashing across the magic window that her Folk would watch and the pages in the kits’ rooms and the warm thing the adult human pawed at on her lap and even though Scorch didn’t know what some of the words meant, she knew their pieces and that felt like power.

It wasn’t power that helped her much, though. Being an Interpreter did come with a certain amount of prestige. She and Marmalade were sometimes sent to deliver blessings from the Folk. They would go to cats who were ill in their homes or to new mothers and their kittens and bestow gifts upon them. Cats always thanked them and looked up at them with worshipful gazes. They parted to allow them through. Chaff asked them for blessings as they passed and thanked them profusely when Marmalade bid them “be well.” Yes, there was definitely power there, but it never did anything to get rid of the babysitters that followed her everywhere she went.

And it never stopped Razor from calling on her.

Today, after an Interpreters’ meeting in Portia’s garden, he had arrived to collect her, all toothy smiles and pet names and suffocating touches. She purred and fell in beside him and let go of her grasp on time. He’d invited her to accompany him to another meeting, this one about the warfront, and she had agreed.

Now she found herself draped against his side as he lounged in the grass of his own backyard. Several toms sat around in a circle, discussing strategy. All of them, except for Ghost, were Exalted.

“Hunting operations are continuing as planned,” Oreo was saying. “We’ll have to increase our presence, though, if we want to account for spring prey numbers.”

“Do you think we’ll still be able to starve them out?” Razor asked thoughtfully.

“I do,” Oreo nodded. “The Chaff are hungry enough, the only problem is the risk of getting attacked by wild cats. We need to find a way to make it seem like the threat is minimal if we want them hunting in droves.”

Ghost cleared his throat and said, “From what my cats have been saying, most encounters can end without bloodshed as long as we don’t antagonize the Clans. If a cat apologizes and leaves they’ll get a torn ear at most. If you’d like, I can spread the word about-”

“No,” Razor rumbled darkly and Scorch felt her throat tighten. “No, we’re not going to teach the Chaff that they should run from these savages. We won’t show weakness like that when that territory is our right.”

“But, sir,” Ghost shifted uncomfortably, “most of my cats aren’t fighters.”

“Then pair them with fighters,” Razor said as if it were obvious. “If they need protection, give it to them.”

Ghost’s throat labored for a moment before he said, “Yes, sir.”

“I think it might also be a good idea to take a more proactive approach,” said Sardine, a younger tom who had only recently been allowed into these kinds of meetings. “You know what they say: the best defense is a good offense.”

Razor smiled and nodded in his direction. “I’m listening.” Scorch listened too, with bated breath.

Sardine continued. “Part of the reason the Slaughter of Sycamore was such a decisive loss was because our position wasn’t easily defensible. The wild cats had the home turf advantage and, given their surprisingly large numbers, I reason they must have had somewhere to organize themselves before the attack. If we could take that location for ourselves, we would have a much stronger foothold from which to orchestrate our campaign. We could even move a number of chaff to the front full time.”

Scorch repressed a shiver as the image of Razor and his followers carving their way through RisingClan’s camp flashed through her mind. The calm, detached manner in which Sardine said it rubbed her fur the wrong way. It was almost like he didn’t care that he was toying with the lives of cats on both sides.

“And how would you propose we do that?” frowned Tiger, his muscles rippling under his pelt as he shifted forward. “We have no idea how far that location might be and clearly inching our way bit by bit doesn’t work.”

“It could,” Oreo countered. “Another big reason we lost that battle was because of the snow storm and we’ll have all summer to retake that ground.”

“We’ll still be out in the open,” Tiger growled. “I don’t like it.”

“Please,” Razor said, his chest rumbling smoothly against Scorch’s side, “I’m sure Sardine has a plan. Don’t you?” He tilted his head to regard the young cat and Scorch heard the familiar undertone in his voice that said ‘this is a test.’

Sardine smiled and said, “I do. I propose we form strike teams of three to six cats and wait for the ‘border patrols’ to come by then kill as many cats as we can.” Scorch swallowed. “Soon enough, their numbers will weaken and falter and we will be able to find and clear out one of their bases and take it for our own, thus acquiring a proper encampment from which to stage our own assault.”

“Not a bad strategy,” Razor complimented and one of Sardine’s ears twitched in satisfaction. “What do we think, boys?” He looked around the circle, one brow raised. Scorch did likewise, trying to keep her expression passive as she judged their reactions.

“It could work…” Oreo hummed skeptically.

Ghost shifted, a grimace on his face, and said, “This all assumes that they have a fortified location we could use. There’s no way to know if that's the case. They could live in scattered nests or isolated burrows.”

“Who cares,” Tiger brushed him off. “Even if there isn’t some central location we can take over, I think the effort put into the strike teams would be worth it.” He smirked and looked at Razor. “I wouldn’t mind the opportunity for a bit of extermination.” Scorch’s blood ran cold. Tiger seemed to notice and his eyes twitched over to meet hers. She quickly ducked her gaze and leaned away to nestle her cheek into Razor’s fur demurely.

“We would need to be careful,” Ghost said. ��The wild cats are a lot stronger than we first thought. I’m not sure many of my cats could go blow for blow with them for long.”

“They don’t need to,” Oreo said simply. “If we get enough of them in a group they’ll be able to wear the wild cats down even if they take losses.” Scorch spared a glance at Ghost to see his jaw working. He was furious. Still, he was hiding it well, she thought. It was only her experience with him that let her recognize the subtle tensing of the muscles in his neck and the way his tail tip was poised to start twitching if he let it.

Razor seemed to notice too and said, “True, but there’s no need to be so wasteful if we can afford not to be. It’s our job to look out for the Chaff, is it not?”

Oreo’s whiskers twitched and he looked down. Tiger huffed softly through his nose.

Sardine nodded and said, “Indeed. Perhaps combat training could be provided?”

Razor smiled. “Good idea,” he said. “Why don’t you and Ghost organize training for the most promising candidates. Once you both feel satisfied with their progress, we can start implementing these strike teams, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” Sardine said, glancing at Ghost. Ghost grunted affirmatively, his jaw still clenched.

“Good,” Razor said, moving to stand. Scorch stood as well, pressing close to him and keeping her head low to avoid too much attention. “Is there anything else we needed to discuss?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Oreo said, standing as well. Tiger and Ghost both shook their heads.

Sardine took a step forward. “Actually, Razor, I was wondering if I could have a private word?”

“Of course,” Razor said, jerking his head towards the rose bush in the corner of the yard. Tail brushing across Scorch’s belly, he leaned into her ear and said, “Wait here for me, would you, dear?”

Scorch chuckled to hide the shudder of disgust that went through her. “Always.” His smile widened and he ran his tongue over her cheek and up her brow before gesturing to Sardine and padding off to the rose bush. She was tempted to try and eavesdrop but knew that she wouldn’t be able to get close enough without being seen.

In addition, she had a more important task to see to. She looked over at the others. Oreo and Tiger had started off across the lawn together, talking amongst themselves. Ghost sat still, his eyes closed as he breathed slowly in and out. Scorch cast one glance over her shoulder to make sure Razor was occupied then slipped over to stand next to Ghost. His whiskers twitched as she drew near and he opened his newly scarred eye to look at her.

“What do you want?” he grumbled. His eyes also darted over her shoulder to where Razor and Sardine were talking.

“I wanted to apologize,” she said softly, offering a smile. “I was under quite a lot of stress last time we talked and I did a lot of things that I am not proud of.” She held her breath, hoping he bought it. This part was integral if she was going to accomplish what she needed to.

He scowled at her. “You nearly got me in serious trouble, you know that?”

“I do,” she winced, hoping she looked sufficiently remorseful. “I’m sorry, Ghost. Really.” He stared at her for another long moment before sighing, his gaze softening a touch.

“I appreciate it,” he said, looking her over. She smiled and sat down. Good. He had never been able to stay mad at her for long.

“I did mean what I said about looking out for Smokyrose,” she whispered. “If you helped me escape, I could bring them a warning.”

Ghost shook his head. “And then what? My cats get killed instead? No, I can’t do that.” Scorch felt anger rising in her again. There was always an excuse with him, wasn’t there, some reason why he couldn’t do what she needed him to. She focused on keeping calm, though. Trying to threaten him hadn’t worked at all. She needed to use a softer touch.

She shifted closer, her eyes big and sincere, and said, “Then I’ll tell the Clans not to kill the Chaff. Goldenstar would listen. She took in Scrap despite my warnings. If she can spare a life, she will, I promise.”

“So Scrap is safe then,” he said as if he’d caught her in a lie. Scorch tried not to let her irritation get the better of her. Like he cared about Scrap at all.

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “And I can make sure that she stays that way. Both her and Smokyrose.” Instinctively, she brushed her tail tenderly over his, satisfied by the way he tensed and then relaxed under her touch. “Please, Ghost. Won’t you help me?” She tried to make her eyes water as she held his gaze. Hopefully he would prove as predictable as always and be unable to resist the pleadings of a woman who needed him.

She watched him thinking. His eyes darted down to her paws like he wanted to place one of his own on top of them. He leaned forward almost imperceptibly, their whiskers almost close enough to touch. His mouth opened, a hesitant word on his tongue, and she felt her spirits soar. Yes! She had won! She had-

His eyes flickered over her shoulder and a scowl returned. “Razor is watching,” he said. Bile swelled to overtake her lifted spirits and drag them back down to the pit of her stomach. She knew better than to look over her shoulder or quickly fix her posture. She licked her lips and very carefully sat back.

“Think about it,” she said. “You know where to find me.” At this point, she could hear Razor coming her way. She let one ear twitch back, then stood and turned to face him, hiding all evidence that she had been touching Ghost. She smiled fondly at Razor and moved to meet him, butting her head against his chest.

“Ghost,” Sardine said, a dubious tilt to his voice, “Shall we talk logistics?”

Ghost cleared his throat and nodded, standing. “Yes. Let’s.” Stiffly, he turned and followed the younger tom and Scorch cursed him in her head. He was being too obvious!

Razor curled around her, his brows furrowed, and asked, “What was that all about?” As he did, he nosed the fur on the back of her neck and she went rigid at the touch, heart suddenly hammering.

“I was urging Ghost to have faith in your leadership,” she lied, trying to turn her head to look at him, but he opened his mouth and gently placed his teeth against her scruff and she immediately froze again. A purr rumbled through him and he removed his teeth. This time, she stayed exactly where she was.

“Is that all?” he murmured warmly against her skin. “It seemed like there was more to it than that.” He padded slowly around her, always keeping some part of him in contact with her.

Scorch fixed her eyes on the rose bush as she spoke. “Maybe for him,” she said. “You know he never really got over me.”

“Mm,” Razor hummed, unsatisfied.

Scorch swallowed. “But I promise, things were strictly professional. I have no interest in any other kind of relationship with someone like him.”

Razor came back around to look at her face again and she dared to turn her head to meet his gaze. “Not even a little?” he asked, “for old times’ sake?”

“No, of course not!” She promised with a worried expression. “Razor, I’m yours now. That’s all I could ever want.”

Razor looked her over and then sighed with a dejected glance downward. “I know. I just… after you went missing and everything…” He shifted his weight and sat down. “It feels like you sometimes don’t think about how your actions affect me. I do so much to make sure you’re taken care of and it’s like you don’t even care.”

“No, Razor,” she swallowed and stepped in to wrap herself around him instead, “of course I care! I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel that way.” She knew his game. This trick was the oldest in the book. But she had no choice but to play along. “How can I prove how much I love you, honey?”

Razor leaned into her touch with another sigh. “Just… promise you won’t talk to Ghost anymore?” he asked tiredly. “It would make me feel so much better if I didn’t have to worry about him and you.”

“Of course,” Scorch promised, pressing her forehead against his. “If that’s what you want, I’ll try and avoid him.”

“It is,” he purred. “Thank you, Gingersnap.”

“Anything for you,” she swallowed.

“Why don’t I walk you home,” he offered, pulling back to meet her gaze again.

“Oh, that’s alright,” she shook her head. “I can get back just fine on my own.”

“No, no, I insist,” he said, standing up. “I’ll feel a lot better if I know you got home safe.”

Scorch sighed. It had been worth a try. Smiling, she tried to play her reaction off as fondness and said, “Alright then. Whatever you want, dear.”