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astaroth1357 · 1 year

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"MC, Who's Best in Bed??":

*on an average HoL morning, the MC is trying to enjoy a cup of tea in the dining room but there's been nothing but shouting in the House for about an hour now... They’re nearly at their wits end when the seven culprits come marching in the room themselves, glaring at esch other. Before MC can even speak, Asmo takes initiative and slams his hands down onto the table, making their teacup clatter*

Asmo: MC, you have to be the one settle this! Which one of us is best in bed???

*the MC... almost does a spit take*

MC: Excuse me???

Mammon: You heard'em! You outta know by now, so who is it??

*the MC looks at their demons like they've gone mental, but seven pairs of eyes stare back at them expectantly, hell, even determinedly. Seeing that they likely can't weasel out of this, the MC gives in with a sigh*

MC: .... Do you really want to know?

Asmo: Of course!!

Satan: We promise we'll be alright with whoever you choose...

Mammon: But it's gonna be me, right??

Satan: Shut up, Mammon!! 😡

MC: Well... if I have to pick...

MC: It's gotta be Lucifer.

Lucifer: *smiles REAL wide for a guy who's been pretending that this conversation is juvenile and beneath him...*

Lucifer: Well. I think that settles that.

*he walks over and arrogantly kisses the back of MC's hand while his brothers all groan somewhere between irritation and disappointment...*

Mammon: Look what ya did, MC, he's never gonna get over himself now!!

Lucifer: Mammoooon?

Mammon: 😨 Shit!

MC: It is Mammon, actually.

Mammon: Eeh-?? Er, s-SEE I TOLD YA!!

*he tries to act proud, and he is, but it's pretty obvious to everyone that he got caught off guard and is flustered as hell*

Mammon: W-who else could it be but the Great Mammon? Right??? This is why I'm their first!!

*Mammon continues to loudly bluster and gloat as MC gets up from the table, taking their teacup with them*

MC: It sure is~

*they peck him on the cheek, which bluescreens his brain while his brothers scoff in disgust*

Belphie: Geez, at least get a room first guys... 🙄

MC: You won’t believe me, but it's Levi.

*the brother stop, collectively look at each other, and then shake their heads*

All (INCLUDING Levi): We don't believe you.

MC: *shrugs nonchalantly and takes another sip of tea* What'd I tell ya?

Asmo: MC, you can't be serious...

MC: *looks him dead in the eye* Two. Dicks. Need I say more? Because I can! He can also-mph!!

*a confused MC gets a hand clamped over their mouth by a mortified Levi, who's still puttering around to figure out how he should feel*

Levi: M-MC! Please...!! 😣

Satan: So there ARE some things that better left unknown... Fantastic... 😰🤢

MC: It’s actually you, Satan!

Satan: *blinks* Eh? Oh really...?

*already turning his head towards Lucifer with a BIG shit-eating grin*

Satan: What do you know? Looks like we've heard it, haven't we?

Lucifer: *angerily covering up his frustration behind a stone cold poker face* So we have... Not that it matters.

Satan: Hm. Your face says otherwise. 😏

Lucifer: Don't push your luck....

MC: Asmo. It's Asmo, it's obviously Asmo!!

Asmo: THANK YOU!!

Asmo: Honestly, it's like no one understands my job description here!!

Asmo: I can, will, and do fuck better than all of you! You just have to accept that. 😌

Mammon: Ugh! Give it a rest already... 😮‍💨

MC: You know what? It's Beel.

*the brothers stop and collectively look at their absolute UNIT of a sibling.... then breathe a combined sigh of defeat*

Beel: *flustered pink from embarrassment, but still very happy to hear it* Thank you, MC. 😊

MC: You're welcome, Beel! 🙂

MC: Weirdly enough, it's Belphie...

Belphie: What do you mean, "weirdly?"

MC: I mean, if we were just going based off resumes here, I wouldn't exactly put yours on top.

MC: But you're living proof "work smarter, not harder" are words to live by. Your technique is flawless!

Belphie: .... I'm not sure how to feel about this anymore....

Bonus:

MC: *gives a blank, thousand yard stare into the middle distance*

Mammon: Uhhhm.... MC? Still there?

MC: I just realized something... I'm really am going to Hell...

Levi: Huh? But you're already here...?

MC: *gets up from the chair and starts to jog away urgently* I think I need a priest...

Belphie: What? Why?? Is being here a problem to you??? 🤬

MC: *calls out as they skid past the doorway* It is because I'm fucking an angel!!! 😫

#honestly there is not a world where i see belphie as the best lay #he doesn't fuck you #you fuck him #which is fine if you like control #but that ain't the question #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me incorrect quotes #obey me simeon

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erwinsvow · 4 days

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you write rafe so good and like you get me like sometimes i’m reading and i’m like “how’d they know😦” so HEAR ME OUT lifeguard!reader (bc i’m a lifeguard at a few country clubs) and i think rafe would be drooling and kelce and top would make fun of him and they’d like break all the rules like back flipping off the diving board just to get readers attention

oh my god first of all i completely adore you!! im so glad yess we must be little brain twins <3 i would love to know which parts made you think that! but here is the best i could come up with for a lifeguard au which is soooo cute but imagine.. its a pogue reader...

rafe knows every pretty girl who frequents the country club, he's made a point of making sure he does. so a fresh face in the crowd stands out pretty easily, especially one like yours.

you're pretty without trying, hair tugged behind you in a ponytail and a simple red one piece, the bottoms covered with denim shorts. it's not the usual kind of outfit for the club, but maybe you're headed out by the pool or something.

he can only see you from the back, though when you turn around, he sees the white cross on the front of your swimsuit. then he sees the boy in matching red trunks next to you, the whistle around your necks and a little first-aid box in your hands. a hot life guard, it doesn't get much more stereotypical than that.

you look around the club, following the boy who can only be giving you a tour of the facilty, with curious eyes like you've never been here before. it's only then a comment from top snaps him into a frankly startling realization.

"can't believe they hire pogues for this shit. wouldn't be surprised if shit started going missing by the pool deck."

rafe thinks normally he'd throw another line in, laugh at what top's saying, but he can't find it in him today. so he keeps watching, the sweet way you smile at a little girl who stopped you to ask for a bandaid, the way you nod while taking in something else in your training.

"alright. you've been staring at that pogue girl for twenty minutes. what gives?" kelce asks finally, after rafe ignores what they've been saying to him for the third time.

"huh?" he snaps back, tearing eyes away from you to look at his idiot friends.

"don't tell me you got hots for the lifeguard. what're you, thirteen?" they laugh, but rafe doesn't.

"shut up." he stands, downing the rest of his drink. "m'goin' to the pool. you loser can come and shut up or stay here and yap."

when he finally gets out there, you've shed the shorts, looking over the kiddie section of the pool with a watchful eye, taking the responsibility of watching brats seriously. he doesn't hesitate, jumping into the deep end with a huge splash, one that gets your attention.

you walk over, making sure whoever that was didn't just fall in, when two boys yell over.

"hey! lifeguard! our friend needs help!" you turn to look back at the boy who's been training you, wondering if you should dive in or wait since you're still in training, when you hear them again.

"not him! you! in the red. hurry!" you don't hesitate, though you're confused, jumping straight in and swimming over to the boy. he doesn't look like he needs help, in fact, he looks like he's floating.

"um, excuse me-" that's all you get out when you get close to him, because he scoops you up like he's rescuing you, carrying you out of the pool like a bride. you kick your feet, yelling out. "hey! put me down! you're not even drowning!"

he sets you down, and you wipe your face, staring up at pretty blue eyes and an arrogant face, once you recognize, one that your best friends hate.

"oh. you. i should have known."

"me? yeah, heard about me, have you? only good things, i hope."

"yeah, no. what the fuck was all that? i thought you were drowning."

"yeah, i was. thanks for the help." confused, soaking wet, and not appreciating his two little sidekicks snickering behind you, you try to get away, when rafe follows.

"so, uh, how long you been working here?"

"it's my first day."

"yeah, i thought so. i never forget a pretty face, so-"

"are you serious?"

"dead serious. and yours is definitely pretty."

"rafe," you say, leaning in closer so he can hear you clearly. "stop hitting on me. i have to work. some of us actually have to work."

"know my name already, huh? what else have you heard-" you roll your eyes, he laughs.

"i heard you're a good swimmer," you say, taking another step closer.

"yeah. from who?"

"i don't know. i'm about to find out." with one hand, you push his chest, and he falls backwards into the pool, the water splashing around your feet. you laugh, watching him bob in the pool, his friends laughing too. "good talk. hope we never speak again."

rafe gets out of the pool, pushing his wet hair back. he calls out after you.

"yeah we'll see about that."

#oooo she a snippy girly #its bc she spends all her time with jayjjjjjj #if you wanted something more cutie i can make her the lifeguard in the kids section & rafe brings toddler wheeize #lmk bae #this is actually garbage lmfao itwas a fun exercise tho

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kairiscorner · 7 months

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why do you like me?

miguel looked at you all confused when you asked him that very question, he raised his eyebrow at you and leaned against the doorway, taking in a breath before answering you with a question; which was hypocritical of him, because... he hates it when he's being answered with questions, but he wants you to know the answer to what you're looking for. "why do you think?" he asks you, making you pout up at him involuntarily. he chuckled a bit and placed his fingers under your chin and turned your head to look at him in the eye. "that's my thing, mi amor; but pout like that again and i just might give you what you're looking for." he teased you with undertones of such cockiness; the kind of cockiness that reminded you of why you loved him. but you were still unsatisfied, he hadn't answered your question: why does he like you?

"why do you like me, miggy?" you asked him again, and miguel paused before giving you an actual response. he clicked his tongue several times and covered his mouth with his hand, which actually made you a little more anxious than you were before. "wh-what?" you asked miguel as he shifted his gaze to you, still covering his mouth with his hand. he moved his hand from his mouth to your hip and brought his other hand to the other side of your hip—bringing you closer to him. "it's because... you're so lovable." "that's... not a real answer." you argued, feeling yourself melt in his embrace as he runs his hands up and down your sides. "but i truly mean it, who in the right mind wouldn't love you? just look at you, so cute, so beautiful, so perfect all at once—you're so small in my hands, and yet i feel like having you in my heart'll make it burst; you're so little, yet so much for me to handle." he mutters as he runs his hand through your hair, making your shudder and lean against him even more.

"is... that the only reason you like me...?" he chuckled at your question and shook his head, caressing your lower back as he pulled you in closer. "not even close, mi vida—if i told you all the reasons why i loved you, it'd never be enough for you." "and why's that?" "because... the more i spend time with you, the more i'm with you, the more you show me all of you... i can't help but fall for the one person who set my life straight and made me who i am today." he confessed, kissing your jawline and down your neck, making you gasp in surprise and embarrassment. "you're so compassionate, patient, understanding, calm, and smart; i can't even think up of half the ideas you have, let alone think a thousand steps ahead to make your visions a reality. i love you because... you're just right for me, you're you." he admitted, lifting you off the ground and bringing your face closer to his, to the point where the tip of his noses brushes against yours. he smiles as he thinks of how many thoughts must be running through your mind, yet how few words are coming out of your mouth as you appear more flustered and bashful in front of him right here, right now.

"i can never, ever see myself loving anyone else... i love you for you; and whoever you'll be, even if you won't be the same person 10 seconds, 10 hours, 10 days, 10 weeks, or 10 years from now... i'll love you either way, and in all ways that i can. i love you, mi cielo; and i know, that'll never change, because i just keep falling for you the longer i'm with you; you make it so much harder not to want to be yours forever, i'll give you that..." "you're so over-the-top, miggy..." he chuckled again as he landed on the bed, with you on top of him and his arms embracing your waist. he smiled up at you and kissed the tip of your nose, raising and eyebrow and smirking at you slightly. "can't a smitten man give his beloved all the love they appreciate in the world? it's my only duty, not just being spider man... but being your lover."

you might never get used to how much weight miguel's words and actions for you as your lover really have, but miguel would never force you to love him; he would never force you to get used to it. all that matters is that you feel happy, beautiful, valued, and loved when you're with him—that's all he ever wants you to feel, and it's because of how you you can be... miguel can't help but love you, unconditionally, and wholeheartedly, for the rest of his life.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

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roosterforme · 2 years

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Is It Working For You? Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Have you read Part 1 yet? Check out my Masterlist.

Summary: Rooster shoots his shot with you. Will you return fire?

Warnings: some swears, adult banter, allusions to masturbation, getting more into 18+

Length: 2100

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

During his Monday morning run, Bradley's thoughts were consumed by you. Your fairly innocent conversation with him at the Hard Deck had become fodder for the dirtiest parts of his brain. He could picture nothing except droplets of your spilled beer sliding down your smooth calves.

He ran along the beach trail as the sun rose behind him and shone off the breakers in the ocean. Sweat trickled down his back as he turned toward his temporary housing in the barracks, and he started to think about how sweaty he could make you.

Very sweaty, he decided. And he would make it his personal mission to do so.

But Phoenix hadn't been wrong, and that was definitely bothering him a bit. Since when did he focus on one girl for more than a casual night? A weekend, tops?

And he barely knew you, but he definitely wanted to know more. He wanted to know where you were from, because you sounded east coast like him. He wanted to know how long you'd been living in San Diego. He wanted to know if you liked other beers too. He wanted to know your favorite foods, and he wanted to feed them to you. He wanted to know what you looked like pinned up against the wall while he fingered you.

He couldn't help but grin about the fact that he managed to make it further with you than Hangman had. That was definitely the ego boost he needed to see if he could take this all the way to his bed, maybe even further. And honestly, the fact that you had rejected Hangman without hesitation made you somehow even hotter.

Unsurprisingly, he had to take matters into his own hands again while he quickly showered in his room in the barracks before reporting to base for work. That marked the third time since the wee hours of Sunday morning that he got off to the idea of licking beer off your legs.

Once he was finally ready for work, Bradley rushed out to his Bronco and tore out of the lot, anxious to see you in your tight bun and khakis again. A grin spread across his face. Whoever designed that naval uniform certainly did not intend for it to be so sexy.

As soon as Bradley walked into the preflight room, you were already there, sipping your coffee and typing away on your computer. He walked right past Phoenix and Bob over to your spot at the folding table with the other engineers, as if pulled like a magnet.

You glanced up when you saw Bradley's boots heading your way. "Good morning, lieutenants," he said in that raspy voice as he addressed you and your coworkers. You couldn't believe he had the audacity to rasp like that. He sounded like he had just rolled out of bed. You squirmed around in your seat a little bit, suddenly very warm and uncomfortable.

"Morning, Lieutenant Bradshaw," you managed as he smiled right at you. You were vaguely aware that everyone else returned his greeting as well, but he was only looking at you. You felt almost thankful as he turned and took a seat with the other aviators.

You could hear Phoenix sarcastically tell Bradley, "Oh, good morning, Rooster! It's so nice to be ignored at 8:00 am! Yes, I'm doing just fine today." She rolled her eyes hard as she took the seat next to him.

"Sorry, but I had more pressing people to greet. Like the one I can't stop thinking about," Bradley replied barely above a whisper, but you could still hear him clearly.

You almost fell out of your seat. Was he talking about you? As soon as you readjusted your chair once again, Bradley turned and smiled at you. Maybe he was talking about you! Maybe all that banter at the Hard Deck got to him as well. It certainly went right to your head, as you'd been continuously thinking about how his mustache would feel if he ever kissed you. All. Over. Your. Body.

"What is wrong with you?" Lieutenant Maria Wilson hissed next to your ear as Maverick entered the room and started going over the flight plans. "Why can't you sit still?"

"Um," was all you managed to say, but you couldn't take your eyes off Bradley. He was running a hand through his hair and stretching in his seat as he focused his attention on the daily instructions. You really hoped nobody had any questions for you, because you couldn't even remember your own middle name at the moment.

Maria followed your gaze to Rooster and whispered, "You told me you didn't go home with him!"

"I didn't!" you insisted through clenched teeth, trying not to draw attention to your table. "You would know if I had, you're my roommate!"

"Well, maybe you should go home with him. First you didn't want the blond one, now tell me what's wrong with this one?" she asked.

You watched as the aviators stood to head to their aircrafts. Bradley unfolded his large frame gracefully before he bent to pick up his helmet bag. His eyes met yours briefly before he slipped his sunglasses on.

"Absolutely nothing."

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Bradley hadn't seen you again the rest of the day on Monday, and Tuesday wasn't looking too promising either. After spending countless hours in the air over both days, he was pretty happy when Maverick called everyone back to the tarmac mid-day on Tuesday. He was sore from sitting in the cockpit and also from doing literally hundreds of push-ups. He was still so mad at Payback and Fanboy for fucking around, he veered off away from them as soon as he could.

After grabbing a tray of food from the cafeteria, he was flagged down by Phoenix while looking for a seat. "I saved you a spot!" she called, and he was delighted to see the empty seat was at the end of the table, directly across from you.

"Thank you," he mouthed to her as he rounded the table and slid into the empty chair.

You looked up from your burrito bowl as your new table mate took his seat. The way Phoenix was looking at you felt intentional, and you could feel your cheeks warming up as Bradley took a long drink of his water. He was absolutely massive, tall and broad, but his movements were always smooth and deliberate.

"Hey, haven't seen you all day," Bradley told you as he set his drink down and licked his lips.

Your brain certainly took its time coming up with a response to that. "Yeah... we've been working in the tower since you were all flying today. Heard about some pushups from Phoenix, and it sounds like you took the brunt of it?"

Bradley rolled his shoulders back and grinned. "Sure did, and my body is not amused. Getting too old for this shit."

You tried to push thoughts of the two of you in a steamy shower, your hands all over his neck and shoulder, out of your mind. It was not working.

"How old are you?" you asked before you could think better of it. You probably shouldn't be engaging in too much personal chit chat with these aviators, Rooster in particular. After this mission was completed, you would move onto helping with another project, wherever your commanding officer saw fit. Wasn't that one of the reasons you shut Hangman down so fast? Because it wasn't part of your professional agenda to form relationships here? I mean, other than the fact that he's cocky and clearly not your type?

"Thirty-five," Bradley responded between bites of his lunch. He took his time chewing while eyeing you up. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-nine. Which I guess is why we never overlapped at the Naval Academy. I think I would have remembered you," you said, and promptly wanted to shove your foot into your mouth.

Bradley smirked. "You'd have remembered me, huh?"

"Yes," you responded quickly. "Because Rooster is a ridiculous call sign."

He barked out a laugh and leaned closer to you across the table. "Well I actually did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Though I don't doubt you would have remembered me if we'd gone to school together. I would have been the cute one asking you out."

The nerve he had to say that at the cafeteria table, and in that raspy voice! You felt yourself starting to fidget in your seat again. Nobody else around you two seemed to be paying much attention to your conversation, so you simply said, "What makes you think I would have said yes?"

"I'm almost certain you would have said no. You were undoubtedly out of my league then, and you probably still are." He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest with a small smile. The top of his flight suit was pulled down with the sleeves tied around his waist; his arms were putting on quite a performance in his black tee shirt.

"You're older than I thought you were," you informed him, trying to steer the conversation back to earlier. "I thought you were closer to my age."

"But I can still kick ass at push-ups... among other things."

"Okay, Gramps," you muttered and peered up at him through your eyelashes as you casually doused what was left of your food in hot sauce.

Bradley tried to hide his smile as he took the last bites of his lunch and then cleared his throat. "If you like spicy food, I know a great place up near Del Mar. Right on the beach. Great views."

You just stared at his lips for a few seconds. He was on the verge of a smile, but he was waiting, just waiting to hear what you had to say. And you felt sick because of it.

"Please, Bradley, don't ask me out," you whispered. "I don't want to have to tell you no."

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Well, shit. Bradley had decided to shoot his shot with you. And you didn't seem to want any part of it. He wished he could disappear from the cafeteria.

Plus, you looked so sad, like you might be on the verge of tears. He honestly thought you felt a connection with him. He certainly felt one with you. There was so much chemistry there, he could practically touch it. Fuck, he couldn't get you out of his head, and he didn't want to either.

You had pulled your lips into a tight line as you stared at his mouth, seemingly begging him to say something.

"No, it's okay, Y/N. I understand. No hard feelings," he told you with a forced smile as he stood with his tray. "See you around."

"Bradley," you called softly after him, but he didn't turn back. He just made his way to the garbage can, feeling like he would prefer to drop his heart in there along with his trash.

The truly funny part was, he had told you that you were out of his league. He laughed sardonically, because you must have agreed with him. He was no better than Hangman after all.

Phoenix ran up to keep pace with Bradley as he headed back out to the tarmac. "Rooster, what happened back there?"

"Nothing," he replied, running a hand over his face before putting on his sunglasses. "Just got shot the hell down is all."

"No! But she likes you!" Phoenix's voice was full of disbelief.

Bradley shrugged and pulled the sleeves of his flight suit back on. "Well, at least I gave it a shot. But you know what, Nat? I can't remember the last time I wanted to take a girl out this badly. And... you were right. Usually a quick hookup is good enough for me, and even that feels like a chore half the time when they want to sleep over. But she makes me want that shit. I know I would want her to stay. And once would not be enough."

Phoenix just shook her head. "I just don't understand! She looks at you like she can't decide if she wants to kiss your mustache off or throw you down on the ground and climb on top."

After taking a deep breath, Bradley took off at a faster pace. "Fuck it, Nat. It's fine. I'm fine. I need to pull my head out of my ass. I'll see you up there."

All she could do was watch her friend walk to his F/A-18, wishing there was something she could do. She knew she wasn't wrong about you wanting him back.

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I wanted to get the second part up quickly, because everyone has been SO kind with reblogging and leaving comments. Thank you so much! Also, I'm hoping all the little details I'm adding about Y/N aren't detracting from anything for you. (Sorry, you like spicy food now).

Enjoy Part 3!

@yaboid19

@swthxrry

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

#top gun fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster bradshaw x female reader #rooster #rooster fanfic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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asoulwithadream · 8 months

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EXCLUSIVE FALL PREVIEWS

Mates. LADS. BRETHEREN.

I think I'm going to die now. AAAAAAAAAAAAH—

BUT OF COURSE WHAT WOULD BE THE SENSE OF MY EXISTENCE IF I DIDN'T SHARE MY OWN PERSONAL THOUGHTS ON THESE BEAUTIFUL THINGS BEFORE THE MEDICINE KICKS IN.

The Crew — I think this is where they see LUCIUS!!!! I'm so very convinced this is where they meet Lucius. As we can see, they're all in the same clothing as the Vanity Fair first looks, where Black Pete is visibly overjoyed. But can't you see that he is missing from this shot? Probably snogging Lucius' face off or hugging him or doing something as such.

Lucius probably popped around the corner in the Vanity Fair one, and now they're sharing an intimate moment (keeping it PG) on deck while the rest of the happy crew watches on (as visible from Roach's, Oluwande's, and Wee John's faces). Of course, Buttons has no interest in human adoration, and instead looks on towards his own lover, the sea.

Stede is looking quite perplexed, or maybe contemplatively—perhaps as a result of Lucius telling Stede what happened to him. He doesn't look directly all that happy, does he?

(OMG OMG OMG WHY DO THEY ALL LOOK SO HAPPY EXCEPT STEDE BUT OLU YOU DEAREST MAN AND THEY'RE LOOKING SNAZZY AND I LOVE THEIR SOCKS I'M AHHAHASIJDHKAE)

Stede — That's the floor of the Revenge guys. I know it well since the last time Stede was pushed onto it. (Solidarity for the harm that the foot touch caused in these trying times) He is wearing what looks to be ye olde fencing gloves, and this means that was just handling a sword. (Though, he could have been using the cannons; we all know Stede would probably confuse fencing gloves for heavy artillery)

There are a few scenarios I can find at the top of my head: he's either training with Izzy (though would that explain his terrified expression? maybe)—we also see the lack of the red ribbon, which I think he removed when he teams up with Izzy, for whatever reason—or he's been duelling with someone else, someone who is extremely better at swordsmanship, someone we know to have been excellent at both maiming and receiving stab wounds. Has he been fighting with Edward?

I think it's the former, but who knows? The best part of theorising is being wrong, after all. I guess we can just gang up and say "calm down mr wavey blade" to whoever is behind this. Plus, do I see traced of some fuzz on his chin? Confirmed baby steard, guys???

(He's such an ICON I WANT TO BREATHE HIS HAIR AND SEE IT BEHIND MY EYELIDS. In the wise words of Rhys Darby, "I wish I had his hair". BUT LIKE HONESTLY WHAT'S GOING ON HERE WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE HE'S SEEN A GHOST)

Frenchie and Ed — This has me on actual alarm bells mode. I can't tell whether or not this is Blackbeard or post-Blackbeard era—he's not wearing any dark chunky make-up, and has his hair up in his classic, beautiful half-up half-down, and we finally get a more close-up and clear shot of his earring, which we first spotted from the Vanity Fair first looks?

A detail I spotted for Frenchie's new goth uniform, which he is still wearing in this shot (further confusing me on the timeline of this image)—I think that his jacket is the very same from the "The Best Revenge Is Dressing Well" episode, which is so incredibly sweet and a beautiful little detail to connect back to season 1. I'd like to think he customised it himself, since we know Frenchie can "sew like the wind."

That's also still the Revenge, in fact the very spot where Lucius was about to get his finger cut off in "The Art of F**kery". But what intent Ed has with this confrontation with Frenchie, who seemingly looks like perhaps he wasn't even doing anything wrong, escapes the depth of my theoretical mind. What contributes even less to this is that Ed is smiling? Rather maniacal, might I add.

(WHAT. THE. FUCK. help me why is this happening. I LIKE AM SO ANGRY AND SO HAPPY AT THE SAME TIME THAT I CAN'T FIGURE ANYTHING OUT FROM THIS PICTURE. NOT EVEN WHAT STAGE OF GRIEF ED IS IN. HELP ME)

Edward — That chair looks like it's from Stede's room, from one of the desk-like tables in the corner next to his bed, and perhaps even the only chair which Ed kept in the room after his rather ill-tasted renovations. What's he doing there without his make-up on? Perhaps this is still during the early stages of new Blackbeard, and he's just in the transit period between washing and re-application.

BUT, if we look at the background, does that look like the Revenge? Not really... There is what seems like a fireplace or some sort of stone plate in the background, with a painting on it with a man on the left side of the composition, who seemingly looks to have lighter coloured hair. So what I may be thinking, is that Edward is visiting MARY ALLAMBY! The painting in the background may be the one from Stede and Mary's wedding, and Mary might have kept it as memorabilia in ode of her now good friend. (Stede is on the left in that painting). Plus, where else would Stede get his furniture and taste for his bedroom than his own former house, which Mary currently lives at?

Even though I think David Jenkins said that Mary wouldn't be present in the season, do I believe him? No. I think I have the right for me to be delusional without external interference at this point.

(Please let me be right please let me be right I NEED A MARY / ED INTERACTION AT SOME POINT TO HEAL MY HEART. I need Mary to realise that fucking Blackbeard is the Ed that Stede was talking about, I NEED ED TO THINK THAT STEDE DIED, FOR EVEN A MOMENT. I think my brain has stopped receiving oxygen.)

Send hopes and prayers

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 speculation #ofmd s2 theories #ofmd fall previews #ofmd teaser #ofmd vanity fair #edward teach #ed teach #blackbeard #stede bonnet #crew of the revenge #lucius spriggs #mary allamby bonnet #rhys darby #taika waititi #david jenkins #i need desperate help and assistance in these trying times #how am i supposed to live laugh love in these conditions

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samijey · 2 months

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broke my promise to myself and actually watched the jey/gunther match and let me tell you... whoever booked that finish wanted jey to look like an idiot. mega rant under the cut which you should honestly read im not your mama but you should read it

he splashes gunther after getting dominated for 80% of the match and an (honestly underwhelming) spear and we're meant to believe the +2yr champion who's beaten virtually everyone on the roster (including drew who recently beat jey TWICE) was about to be defeated right there?......okay............ but it gets worse

when the referee (for no real good reason) stops the count at 2 after jimmy rings the bell, jey "forgets" about gunther and turns his back to him, allowing gunther to get back up almost IMMEDIATELY (remember we were meant to think he was about to be beaten 5 seconds earlier) yet jey quickly superkicks him BUT THEN decides to dive at jimmy on the outside instead of going directly for another splash (girl help) so ofc when he does go for the splash, gunther gets the knees up, and to add a cherry on top of this shit sunday, pins jey right there after performing no extra offense - doesn't even roll him up, jey just lies there flat on his back and gets pinned (while michael cole screams "GUNTHER ROLLS UP JEY USO" to make me even more mad, apparently, as zero actual rolling takes place in the ring - just a leg hook & weight on the shoulders combo... and not a particularly vicious one either) I just ??????

and of-fucking-course as the TV feed gets cut, cue cody and punk who come out all smiles ready to do the usual fanservice routine for the live crowd and suddenly jey is mostly done selling what just happened and is smiling along with whatever you wanna call it - sending the crowd home happy?? since when did that become mandatory for broadcast shows??? why can't emotionally devastating moments count just as much when it comes to delivering a satisfying ending to the live crowd??? are you telling me they couldnt have had jey walk to the back WHILE SELLING the heartbreak/frustration of what happened and THEN send cody out to do the fanservice thing??? fuck maintaining suspension of disbelief I guess - you can't even argue that "it's fine it was just a treat for the live crowd" because WWE has posted the footage everywhere and promoted it heavily.

imagine if after the camera stopped rolling at last year's rumble, sami had got up, undone kevin's handcuffs and they both hugged and cut a cheerful promo at the crowd - everyone would've blasted wwe for undermining the impact of that finish and not letting the moment breathe.

here's another, even more similar example - remember what happened after summerslam when jimmy attacked jey? he sold the devastation of the moment all the way until he exited the arena, so why is this any different? because it's "just" TV and not a PPV? nah, i'll tell you why: because wwe does not give a shit about this current version of jey's character - he's there to spew the same catchphrase 100x an hour (because it sells merch and pops the crowd let's be honest), display a grand total of two personality traits, and rub his popularity off onto the people wwe actually consider stars

for comparison - you cannot tell me that if it was cody in this position (just lost an important match thanks to the most important person in his life + got attacked by them on top of it) wwe wouldn't have had him look devastated or cut an emotional, tearful promo that would've then been posted and promoted everywhere

"chill, it's not that serious" my apologies for wanting something i love (and KNOW can be so much better with minimal effort) to have a basic level of logic and thought put into it, it's not like wrestling booking is rocket science and we know wwe is NOT incapable of actually delivering good stuff 🤷??? the standards for this show are so damn low and seeing no one else be bothered by it does my fucking head in ouch ouch wheres the aspirin bye

#jey uso #wwe #the usos #jimmy uso #i fr wasnt gonna tag this at first #but fuck it i'm mad and yall will hear about it #if you consider yourself a jey fan in any way shape or form... i genuinely think you should read this

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kuromitos · 1 year

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May the best hero win!

[Dick Grayson x GN!Reader x Jason Todd]

Plot: what happens when two batboys have a crush on the same person? Chaos. Petty Chaos.

Note: more storyline based on my OC that I'm too nervous to share with. The reader has a hero name called 'incognito'

It was supposed to be a regular night. A typical run down of the latest mission in Gotham. But we are talking about the Wayne Family here, or should I say the batfamily, there is nothing 'normal' or 'typical' about them.

Instead of going to collect the Intel from their reliable source, like they are supposed to do, Nightwing(Dick) and Red Hood(Jason) are fighting each other on top of a rooftop. With Red Robin(Tim), the signal(Duke), Spoiler(Steph), and Robin(Damian) watching them from another rooftop and taking bets on who will win the fight. While the black bat(Cass) goes off and completes the mission.

How did we get to these events? Well, things first started earlier in the night. Batman contacted the members of his family to gather inside the Batcave for their briefing before patrol, "we have received Intel earlier in the month that shipment of a new drug is coming to Gotham in the coming week." Batman stated while pulling up the required information on the back computer.

"A new drug?" Nightwing asked, "I ain't heard anything about no new drug." Red hood said with a mad tone, his regular tone. "That's because it's technically not new." Red Robin pulled up articles and reports from his wrist computer to the bat computer for everyone to see. "It's originally a chemical used in medicine but somebody decided to use it as a base for a new drug. There have been huge reports of it in Chicago, Detroit, and Baltimore. Recently, there's been rumors of it spreading to Gotham and now it's have been confirmed."

"The problem now is we don't know where the shipments is being dropped off." Batman said, changing the info on the screen to a photo of three men. "That has only been shared privately with these men only. But we have a double agent that was able to get the location for us and going to give it to us at the usual location on top of the Lincoln bank building. " He concluded his small speech with his back to the group because he doesn't want to see their faces of annoyance from them.

"The agent is . . . . Incognito. " "UUGGGGHHHH!"

Now hearing those groans you would think that they hate or can't stand the person called 'incognito'. Quite the contrary, they love them and consider them as an extended family member. What actually causes those groans were the two guys that like incognito some much more than everyone else. So much they turned it into a petty competition.

"I'll go" "I'll go"

They both turned toward each other when hearing each other voices and glare at each other. Those glares were signs to everyone around them that this was going to all night. Especially when Duke uttered the words "not this again."

"Don't you have to be bludhaven right now? Dick. " "Don't worry about that, Jay. I settled things before coming over. What about you, huh? Shouldn't you be covering crime alley or hanging out with the outlaws?" Dick smirks at his brother's poor attempt at jabs. "Just got done with a mission, dick head. " "Then you must be tired. I'll do this little info collecting-" Jason interrupted dick with a finger shoved in his face. " Don't give me that crap. You talked to them last time. Im going this time!" " Come on Jason. I'm just looking out for you. You don't think straight when you're around them." "Better than you. At least I think with my brain here" He points at his head, "and not the one down here." Jason grabbed his private part in a vulgar manner, which got a reaction out of dick. Pissed off. He was about to retort back but he was stopped by hearing Bruce scream at them both, "Enough! " which grabbed their attention. Jason still grabbing his. . . Little hood.

"Both of you going to the meeting point, then. Whoever gets there first can collect the information. I don't care who does it, just go!" Bruce yelled at them. They both stood there for awhile before Jason run towards his motorcycle screaming 'I'm getting there first!' With Dick on his tail also screaming, 'No you won't. '

~~☆~~

That's how we got to where we started. They raced thru the city using their personal own shortcuts until they bump into each other on top of an apartment building. Both felt they won't get their private moment they wanted with the double agent of their dreams, they decided to fight the other. First one down on their back, wins.

At first simple sparring quickly turns into a full-on brawl. Going at each other for at least an hour. Neither holding back on the other. While throw petty insults at each other too.

"Dickhead"

"Blowhard"

"Man slut"

"Zombie"

They took so long on this fight the other kids stop their patrol to watch and place bets. Jason was getting the winning votes.

It looks like the fight could go on forever since neither one looks like stopping anytime soon but a certain stop them in their tracks.

"Got it." They both turns towards the voice to see black bat with a piece of paper in her hand. "Got what exactly? " Dick asked with his hand on Jason's jacket, tight in his fist. "The location. It's the docks." She jump away from the two and probably back to the big bat. Everyone else follows her, forgetting the other two men.

Hearing they lose their chance, they let each other go and awkwardly stand beside each other. Their stupid fight got in the way. They missed the person who stole their affection. All because of their petty fighting. Hopefully this would be a lesson for them both to stop this -

"First one back, can meet them on the next meet up"

"You're on. Don't blame me when you lose. "

*sigh* nevermind. They're hopeless

Sorry if they are ooc here. I hope to improve my skills soon.

I'm also might do a part two if you guys like it enough.

That's all I got. Bye for now ( ≧∀≦)ノ

#batman #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason tood #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader

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casablancarossa · 1 month

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Follow your body rhythm..

<<a [medium spicy] taemin x reader scenario>>

Pairing: Taemin x Female!Reader

Genre: Slightly smutty.

Content Warning: Not Advised for Minors. Minors DNI. Usage of pet names.

Synopsis: In preparing for your comeback, your practice session is rudely interrupted by your ex-boyfriend and suddenly bad ideas become good ones.

Author's Note: Sometimes the way that man dances is just so sinful. Like sir who allowed you. Do you think his hip rolls in bed are just as lethal?

The music pulsated a little too loud in your head this time. Maybe that's what happens after 6 hours on the floor without taking a break, but you would get so lost in the zone, and no one else was in the studio to really remind you to chill out for a bit.

As the last note rang through the room, it was like it had hit an off switch in your body and now you are on the floor, breathing so heavily and out of breath. Your vision wasn't any better as it felt like the room was spinning and honestly you'd had better vision, blind drunk without your contact lenses than you do now. Your eyes flutter shut as you bring up your arm to cover your eyes for a bit, audibly panting as you unzip your hoodie to cool your body off.

"Mmm, be careful, being a temptress could get you hurt", a voice reacted seeing your sweatpants riding low on your hips, paired with a half mesh sports bra, almost leaving nothing to the imagination as your breasts practically pool over the top.

The sudden presence of someone shocked you and you didn't even think twice to stand up and bow your back, greeting whoever was in the room. "Hello, sunbae!", your voice tried to sound respectful and less annoyed and by the time you stand fully straight, you noticed it was Taemin standing at the doorway of the dance studio, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded. "Oh--it's ... you", the words left your breathless as you collapse down onto the ground again.

Taemin's eyes widened, flinching to reach out to you, witnessing your body drop, but seeing you groan in anger as you shift to sit up, pressing your back against the cool mirror. "Sorry, sunbae, I'll leave in a bit, just.. let me catch my breath.." you mumbled, throwing your head back to rest against the mirror.

"Working hard again hm? How's prepping for your comeback?" Taemin smiled as he steps into the room, walking towards you.

"Shit.."

"It can't be that bad..."

"I think I prefer it when I used to be a back-up dancer"

"3 years as an idol can feel like a lifetime, I suppose. Boa-noona misses you by the way. " Taemin smirks, settling down beside you.

"Has it only been three years?" , your eyes roll just enough that Taemin makes a note of it before you lie back down on the ground, suddenly feeling less pressure to leave.

"And yet you still use our studio..", he mused quietly.

Your turn your head to get a view of Taemin before rolling your eyes once more and stare at the ceiling. If it has been 3 years since you debuted, then it has been almost 4 years since you broke up with Taemin and roughly a few weeks since you last hooked up with him.

Taemin and you are old enough to know what you two were doing , and within reason, it was absolutely insane and totally wrong. The both of you were never really the 'casual sex' type of people but at the same time, you two never really had a deep meaningful conversation to know where you both stand together. You had prioritized your career, and so did Taemin, and unsurprisingly the two of you had needs. Sexual needs, that only you two could fulfil for each other.

Every morning after a 'playtime sessions' (you two have labelled it as such), you and Taemin would laugh about it over coffee, claiming that the previous night was going to be the last time and then acknowledge later on that 'last time' was not going to the 'last time'. But it worked for the both of you or at least you though it did.

"When's your first stage? How long is the promo?" Taemin's questions pulls you out of your thoughts.

"Jeez mom, relax." you giggled "Promo for 3 weeks and first stage is I think in 2 weeks, maybe later"

Taemin nodded his head and ponders for a moment before scooting his body across the floor to lie down beside you, resting on his elbows. His eyes bore holes into your body as he slowly analyses your face, biting his lips by the time his eyes cast over your plump lips, to your jawline, downwards your neck and continuing further to just the top of your exposed cleavage. He curses to himself internally, he was a fool to have let you go this long.

"So... anyone catch your eye recently?" Taemin tries to downplay his curiosity but his words carried the tone of spite behind it.

"Depends, any of your peers curious?" you hummed lightly, rotating your head to look at Taemin's reaction through his reflection. "You know, I did miss the chance to give my number to Taeyong oppa, do you think he'd still be interested?"

Taemin's face did not disappoint, you could see his jaw clench at the mention of Taeyong's name before muttering audible curses, thinking you wouldn't hear him. A fog washed over his gaze, he was deep in thought, the same blank stare he would give when he was angry. It would all steep deep in his core and he would never let it bubble over. Taemin's anger scared you before. The empty hooded gaze, the low voice, the way he'd flex his hands open only to ball up into a tight fist along with the sickly sweet tone he would adopt that has nothing but malice behind it. He mouths Taeyong's name, each time looking more and more annoyed.

You reach over to flick Taemin's forehead, sighing as you roll onto your side, looking at him. "Oppa, I was joking. Relax.."

He doesn't react, but his eyes were now on you and it felt hot and uncomfortable, like you were being judged.

"You say this, but I know he is featured in your stage as the male dance partner", Taemin's voice betrayed his apparent 'no-shits-given' appearance with a jealous tone.

"Aww baby, are you jealous?" you teased lightly, while your hand reaches up to caress his cheeks.

Instantly he melts with your touch as his head leans into your hold. You haven't called him by any sort of pet-name in a very long time. Taemin didn't even realize how much he missed it until he heard it from you. His reaction to your touch catches you off guard, quickly you pull your hand away and pull yourself upwards to a standing position, somewhat struggling to convince your body to do anything but stay beside Taemin.

"Ah oppa, I'll just get my stuff and you can have the studio" you announced without looking at him and when he gave no verbal cue back, you start walking away to the benches, quickly gathering your stuff, carelessly piling them into your duffel bag.

It was all the sudden, and you didn't even hear Taemin move across the floor, hell you didn't even hear him calling out your name, but out of nowhere, his hand was on your wrist, pulling you towards him, physically shortening the distance you created between you two. "Dance with me, y/n."

"What?"

"I've sat in a few of Taeyong's practices with the choreographer. I'd like to think I know the dance pretty well."

You stare at Taemin with wide eyes, slightly shocked unsure how to respond.

"Your phone is still connected right?" he said firmly, turning on his heel to walk towards the speakers, grabbing your phone and pausing to look at you.

Accept now and you'd look to eager. Reject and you'd be considered pretty rude. No one ever denies Taemin a chance to dance, whether he is pushing his back-up dancers for one more round, or inviting an idol to perform a song with him, and you would be no different. Without saying anything, the action of dropping whatever was in your hand while peeling off your hoodie, and walking to the middle of the studio was enough of an answer to the senior idol, who quickly presses play and shuffle.

Your body shifts into your starting position with Taemin standing off to the side, waiting for the cue to begin. As the beat drops and music plays, you begin to dance your routine as you always have but now instead of practicing it alone, you had someone with you instead. Technically, there was a list of male idols who you would share the stage with for the duration of your promotions, but you actually had not practiced with any of them yet.

It really didn't click in your head that the dance was really intimate in some ways and maybe you might be faced with a lot of hate for performing a sensual dance, with a male idol. You think it's rather tasteful, and quite a technical dance. You would count the beats in your head until Taemin's cue to essentially slide into his spot so you two could dance together.

Every longing pause, every hit of the beat, every sway of the hips, Taemin matched your rhythm and movement perfectly. Effortlessly, there was no hesitation when Taemin's body would be pressed against yours, or when you would need to lean on him as he supports your weight for a twirl. Suddenly the choreo felt electric. Any time Taemin's hands would be positioned at your hips, he would grip lightly, causing a hitch in your breath and those ghostly touches would fluidly move around your body when the choreo needed it.o

When your faces would meet, he'd have this alluring, almost seductive stare. Taemin wouldn't hold back during parts that required 'closeness' and would purposely graze, occasionally bumping his lips against the skin of your arm or shoulders.

"Mmm, tell me you aren't tempted to ditch Taeyong and have me as your partner instead" Taemin muses into your ear as he pauses.

You sigh, slightly annoyed, dropping out of your own pose to flick Taemin at the forehead. "Idiot. You are jealous"

"Why would I be? I'm not the jealous type. If you really want to dance with Yongie.. then fine." his voice laced with defeat and annoyance.

"Taem... come on. It's me. Be honest"

"Okay, maybe I am a bit jealous.." Taemin sighs as he reaches his arm out to hook around your waist, pulling you to him. "I can't help it...something about you, just makes it hard to control myself.."

"Yeah right.."

"Do I need to remind you?"

"Ah ah ah, you don't have to" you let out an annoyed groan.

At your protests, Taemin attempts to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he support you by your ass. The sudden movement causes you to yelp, trying to smack his shoulders as your arms cling around his neck. You and Taemin have been far more intimate than this but you couldn't help but to be shy at this moment. He had a childish smile on his face as he walks in circles around the studio, carrying you up and playing childish tricks on you, by pretending to drop you.

Each time you felt a pit in your stomach, you would wrap your arms tighter around him. The closeness of your two bodies gave you the chills. Did he get stronger? Why does it feel like his grip has gotten tighter? Does he look at me the same way I look at him? Thoughts flooded your brain, but it was suddenly interrupted by a cold shock running down your body.

Taemin had taken the liberty to walk towards the large mirrors, slamming your body against the cool screen, making you hiss a little. He uses the friction and leverage to slightly hoist you a little higher so he would be head height with your chest.

"Ow? What was that for?" you questioned, but there was quiver in your voice and that unmistakable glint in your eye like something had triggered within you.

"Oh sorry, I distinctively remember, that you love being pinned to the wall" the snarky yet alluring comment from Taemin caused your legs to tremble and suddenly your arousal made its presence known.

"Seriously in the studio? Where people can walk in?"

"Don't you think it's fun that way? Besides Y/N..I'm hungry" Taemin flashes a quick dirty smile before latching his lips at the top of your breasts, clamping down with a needy bite.

You barely had time to react, groaning as your head throws back. You would wantonly mewl Taemin's name as his teeth navigated closer to the hem of your sports bra, nipping at the fabric to release your nipple from its confinements. Your head lowers just in time to see him lick his lips, immediately going for the sensitive bud. "Ah..Taem..min..nggh", your words fail you.

Taemin's eyes look up to see your panting reddened face. Nothing excited him more that looking at your panicked, aroused state.

"It's about that time again Y/N..." he whispers lowly, the cool air of his breath gives you goosbumps. "Time for us to commit sin against god"

"Here, I was thinking that last time was the last time.." you chuckled, feeling a sudden twinge in your lower region.

"Oh baby, you and I both know, that's never going to happen" Taemin pushes his neck out so he could nip at your throat, before lovingly decorating it with kisses and bites.

You could only hum and lose yourself in his actions. Those damn lips were a curse, a curse you never wanted to end. It wasn't long before your fingers were wrapped in Taemin's hair, pulling him closer to you, letting him ravish you. Just beneath you, you could also feel his need for you pressing into your thigh and you couldn't help but shift just to feel it more at the spots that mattered.

"What's this princess? I though the studio was too lowly for you", he chuckles.

"Mmf, Taemin.. I can't.. I think I need you now..." you managed to speak in staggered breath.

Taemin grants you a moment of relief as your lips collide to a passionate kiss. Full of want and hotness. You couldn't help but cup his face in your hands as your tongues begin to dance, the way you two would hungrily bite each others lips.

In the deep desire to make Taemin's idol life harder, you wanted to lay your mark. Your fingers once more curl into Taemin's dark locks, now grabbing a fistful and yanking his head back so you can grant him the same 'gifts' he has blessed your neck with.

Taemin lowly growls, finding the dominance you were displaying very attractive. So he continues to allow you to place the bites. He is a grown man and resourced with talented makeup artists; a few hickeys would be no problem. What took him off guard was the way your free hand slipped to the base of his neck, applying slight pressure that ellicited a delightful moan out of him.

"Princess.. you are playing a dangerous game" he snarls, immediately grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the mirrored wall along with the slight slam of your body.

"Why? Scared I'd win..",you cocked a single brow up, taunting Taemin.

"Only because I'd let you win. Don't forget the only one begging and screaming is you.." he chuckles.

A foreign voice suddenly erupts. "Taemin-ah! Taemin-ah! Are you here Taemin-ah?"

As the door of the studio swings open, you had never found yourself and Taemin move so quick as you unfurl your legs as he quickly but gently lets you down before taking a step back.

"Oh hyung I'm here" Taemin calls out as his eyes widened staring at your chest, reaching out to quickly raise the fabric of your sport bra to hide your nipple.

"Oh Taemin you're here. Ah Y/N too. You were practicing too huh"

You raise your head to see Euisoo walking towards you two with coffee in hand. You quickly bow in greeting and keeping your head down, you rush towards your bag, picking it up from the floor and grabbing your hoodie and zipping it up to cover yourself more.

"I'm.. uh... I finished practicing.. I'll uhhh... I'll get out of your way" you stumbled to find your words after almost being caught by Taemin's manager.

Your feet quickly shuffled towards the speakers and unplugging your phone before heading to the door. You bow once more, waving your hands out to Euisoo and Taemin.

"Umm.. bye. I'll uhh.. I'll see you guys around." you nervously laughed before leaving the room.

Euisoo and Taemin chuckle to themselves, seeing you extra flustered.

Meanwhile you take the phone into your hand trying to think of what to send to Taemin as you navigate your way out of the building.

*beep beep*

Y/N sent a message : Name a place and time. Tonight. I'll show you, I can win the game too.

Despite the fact Euisoo rambling on about future schedules in line for Taemin, the idol only chuckles at the sight of your message, immediately coming up with a response.

Taemin sent a message: How about your place? Let's give your housemates something to talk about.

Y/N sent a message: Fine. But you better bring beer and rabboki.

Taemin sent a message: Food and drinks. Check. By the way, loser wears a collar for their next stage. ♥️

Y/N sent a message: 🥵 Can't wait.

#taemin scenario #taemin x reader #taemin x female reader #taemin fanfic #taemin smut #taemin fiction #taemin x you #lee taemin #shinee #taemin

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weeb-polls-with-pip · 4 months

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Autistic Anime Boys Side A Round 1 Match 18

Propaganda:

Yuusuke -

"i really hope whoever else submitted him has more thought out propaganda lmao but i saw mention of him on the blog and went "oh i should submit him too". anyways in terms of autistic traits he shows off the top of my head, he has a very strong sense of morality that's based in what he was told growing up, as demonstrated by the fact that his foster father and mentor in art set the example of an artist who lives a simple, immaterial life in a shack creating for beauty rather than money (even though in secret he was in it entirely for the money) which carries over to the present day where yusuke turns down an offer from a gallery director because the director mentioned the financial side of the position. he eventually mellows out a bit at the end of his arc, but his views before then can legitimately be expressed as "making art for it to be sold always results in art of inferior quality". he also doesn't seem to intuitively understand social norms and non-verbal cues. i can't think of any specific examples of that right now, but i'm like 90% sure i remember dialogue that points to that on multiple occasions."

Tsubasa -

"So autistic about airplanes!! He can transform into a tiny bird that can't fly so he learnt extensively about airplanes and flight so he could try and fly. And he could infodump to you about any of the physics around flying to you. He sees magical UFOs and goes "but that doesn't make sense!" because they defy the laws of physics. His room is full of airplane models and decorations."

#tumblr polls #autistic anime boys poll #yusuke kitagawa #yuusuke kitagawa #kitagawa yuusuke #kitagawa yusuke #tsubasa yuunagi #yuunagi tsubasa #cure wing #pretty cure #precure #hirogaru sky! precure #hirogaru sky! pretty cure #persona #persona 5

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misshoneysplayhouse · 1 year

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bro, I had an anon ask and i was high asf and deleted it like a dumbass, i'm high rn but i remembered what they asked so WHOEVER YOU ARE THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS teehee, I've been having Hange brainrot and you just put my ovulating ass into heat... so let me set the scene if you will..

Focus| h.zoe

The digital clock sitting on top of your nightstand flashed 5:00 exactly which was usually when Hange would get off work either super eager to tell you what went on during their day or nearly irritated to death with failed experiments and copious amount of paperwork. But today was slightly different.

You found yourself in the bathroom mirror finishing up from your shower, wearing one of their huge shirts, no bra and some lounge shorts. You had music lowly playing in the background from your speaker so you were in your own world.

You didn't even notice them standing in the doorway watching your every move, admiring every inch of your body and laughing to themselves as you sang to yourself.

"Is this what you've been doing all day?" They finally spoke up with a grin.

You jump a bit from being startled, jumping back while giggling to yourself.

"I can't have a day off without you stalking me huh?" You smiled, walking up to them for a kiss, and another, and then another, until it turned into a full mini makeout.

"Okay-mm-baby you okay?" You giggled in between kisses.

"I'd never thought seeing you in my shirt would turn me on this much..." They smirked.

"That's why you were staring me down like that? You know you can use your words, Hange." You teased, whispering the words against their lips.

"You know you like having all my attention on you, don't you doll?"

You nod your head while pressing your lips together to keep yourself from biting your lip.

"So instead of trying to switch on me, tell me what you really want princess.."

I recommend the song Sexy- by Tank since that was the song that came on in my playlist....IM PREGNANT

"Hange, I want you to watch me.." You blurted out, determined to keep up the act, as much as you wanted to give in and let them take over, you felt a little domineering knowing Hange liked seeing you like this and you wanted to explore it further.

So when you found yourself on the edge of the bed rubbing your swollen clit in front of them still wearing nothing but their shirt, you still had the idea to take over but just not the willpower.

Sitting directly in front of you, their hair was in a disheveled ponytail, and their work clothes were discarded on the floor wearing nothing but their boxers, palming themselves as their eyes were burned on your body. You couldn't think straight with them looking like that!

"Look at me, spread her open for me, juuusssst like that..good girl.." They spoke, their voice lowly hitting your ears.

You could feel yourself leaking onto the sheets, your slick covered fingers spreading yourself open teasing as you rubbed with more pressure. Your eyes met Hange playing with themselves and you couldn't focus on anything else but them. It made you slide your fingers inside, wishing it was them filling you up instead.

"Oh fuckk.." You whined, squirming your hips around to find that spot.

"T'awww what's wrong doll? You want something?" They teased, softly sucking in air as they pulled out their cock, dripping with precum and their tip red from all the teasing.

"I want you to keep watching me..please?" You begged, your eyes darkening as you leaned up, connecting your eyes back onto theirs.

Hange's face washed over with the color pink then it hued to a beet red, their jaw slightly dropped and their eyes changed from condescending to memorized.

"Fuck.." They whispered.

You started to pick up the pace as the feeling of Hange's eyes burned against your body, letting their name fall from your lips while you pumped in and out of your tight cunt occasionally pulling out to rub your throbbing clit

"I need you so bad..Hange.." You whimpered, taking a hand under the shirt to play with your breasts.

"You do?" They breathed, stroking faster to try and match your rhythm, they were practically ruining you in their mind. Just picturing how warm and tight you would feel wrapped around them, how pretty you'd look under them taking it so fucking well, just the way they like it.

"Mhmmm.." You murmured feeling a knot form in your stomach as your eyes fluttered shut.

They shot back open when you felt the feeling Hange's fingers sliding so easily inside of your pussy, you cried out while they played with your insides, taking them out to rub on your pretty cunt, their fingers covered in your slick.

They took that same hand and covered themselves with the nasty mess you made, a large groan escaping from the back of their throat.

"I didn't tell you to stop, cum for me while I watch doll.." They taunted, licking their lips still with the same burning stare from before.

You felt yourself tighten up as you kept the eye contact, sucking on your fingers before sliding them down your body and immediately putting them back inside, the feeling of emptiness left you wanting more.

"I want you inside of me Hange..oh fuck I want to cum all over you.." You babbled, curling and pumping your fingers up to abuse your g-spot, not caring at how desperate the speed was or how your face contorted with different facial expressions.

They watched you in awe as your pussy leaked, the squelching wet sounds mixed in with the sounds of your pretty voice that Hange loved so much.

"Keep talking to me, princess...I just want to paint that pretty pussy of yours white..I love it when you make a fucking mess sweetheart.." They groaned out, biting their bottom lip to hide the whimpers forming in the back of their throat.

"Cum all over my pussy Hange..please!" You cried out, your juices leaking out of your cunt almost like a pretty waterfall, ruining the sheets and even some managing to fall onto Hange, they couldn't take the tension a second longer.

"Keep cumming for me, I'm so fucking close..so fucking- FUCK!" You heard them grunt, you watched them jump up to their feet, pumping themselves faster and faster until you felt the warm white ropes of cum drip down your soaking wet cunt, mixing your flavors together.

You moaned from the sensation and threw your head back, panting like a bitch in heat while your legs twitched, still rubbing your clit to make sure your body was empty and drained.

"Uh un, don't tap out on me now..grab your toy from the drawer...I wanna watch from the back.." They spoke, laying light taps to your face, slowly switching over to cup your face, smooching your cheeks just a bit.

You in a post orgasmic state, hazily nodded and whined in agreement

"I love it when you watch me Hange..."

#hange zoe x reader #amab hange #hange smut #dom hange #hange zoe #hange x black reader #hange #aot x reader #aot smut #till i lose hearing in my left leg #hange supremacy #aot x black reader #hange zoë #Honey'sDollMail

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unseededtoast · 1 month

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Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Eight

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

Heading west, I keep walking through the night, though it's less than ideal. I take my time, wanting to stay quiet and undetected by both infected and people. The silence of the night allows my mind to mull over what I found today and how everything is supposed to fit together.

My mind can't seem to figure anything out that makes sense. The map is the only thing that makes the most sense to me. The notes, the game tallies, they all seem so odd but there has to be some connection. There has to be some reason these people were tasked with killing a specific age range of children in QZ's across the country. There has to be some reason they're connected to the Fireflies. I'm seeing bits and pieces of the picture, but not the full painting.

But what if this is all a bit bigger than I can take on? Am I walking myself right towards a death sentence? Maybe. Could I be making the wrong decision to go to Nebraska? Possibly.

The other alternatives are either to retreat back to the QZ and be stuck wondering for the rest of my life, or try to track down which QZ the others went to, and I could miss them and have wasted time. But if I guess which QZ they're going to next, I could possibly save more lives. I've never been good at gambling, and yet I find myself playing at the highest stakes.

Each step seems to take ten times the effort as normal as I consider my options, trying to see which is the most logical, which would give me the best odds of finding these people. As soon as I think I've made a decision, I second guess myself. It feels like there's no right decision to be made.

I stop walking in the middle of a street and stare straight up at the dark sky, the stars shining brightly down. If only they could give me the answer. The sound of a clicker in a nearby skyscraper gets me moving again, towards the interstate. It seems I've made up my mind, and only time will tell if this was the right decision.

Readjusting my backpack and yawning, I take in my surroundings so that I'm not ambushed by infected. Sometimes it seems like they come out of nowhere. My thoughts seem to run in circles until it starts to drive me mad. I have to think of something else or I'm going to go insane. And after searching for something, the green sign above the road distracts my mind and reminds me of the stranger I met only yesterday.

I wonder how Joel is doing, how his journey is going so far. He seemed seasoned to life outside a QZ, his time away from Boston likely forced him to adapt. Whatever job it was that he took to get out of Boston must have caused him to not want to return. But no matter the reason, I hope that he has a safe journey, I'm sure whoever is waiting for him is worried sick.

My path leads me to a roadblock where an old FEDRA checkpoint used to be, just before the entrance ramp of the highway. Cars are parked bumper to bumper and there's sandbags stacked on top of each other supporting a thick line of barbed wire. Knowing I can't climb overtop of it, I take a right and decide to go around. Sure, this is going to delay my trip slightly, but it's better than trying to go overtop of barbed wire. I don't really feel like nursing open wounds on my way to Nebraska.

As I go to turn left to get back on track I immediately stop moving. Standing in the street are three runners, all hunched over with quiet sobs. A clicker cries out somewhere close, its screeches ricochet off the buildings and echoes into the open air. My heart hammers in my chest and I take careful steps backwards so that I can keep my eyes on them. Thankfully, they don't see me and I'm able to get back to the front of the barricade.

I take a left instead, and hope for a better outcome. Bracing myself, I turn the corner and am in disbelief with what I see. There are four runners standing in the road. My eyes trail down the street and I see that they're all trapped here. The FEDRA barricade extends down the streets so that the infected in the Boston area can't use this ramp to get onto the highway. On one of the barricade sections I see the telltale sign of a door, there's a giant FEDRA sign hanging above it. That door would be a direct path to the road if it weren't for the infected. It seems that there's no unobstructed way for me to get to the highway. I'm up against seven runners and a clicker, at least. Even during the day I don't know if I could take this on.

Ducking back behind the building I try to formulate some sort of plan. How can I get through this barricade without the infected noticing me? I know the door is to the left, but there's no way I can get past all of those infected and open it. Even if I do sneak to the door, I know it's going to make sound when I open it, and that's like ringing the dinner bell for them.

Sound would be like ringing a dinner bell. An idea comes to my mind and I spot an abundance of bricks laying beside one of the cars. If I can get those bricks to all fall at the same time across the street, it should draw them away long enough for me to get to the door. It's still risky, but I think it's my best shot. But how do I get them to fall at the same time?

I don't see a way that I can pull that plan off without considerable time, and I don't have time to be stopped up here, not with all the infected. I stare at the pile of bricks and another idea crosses my mind. What if I use them to get over the barricade? I could lay the bricks in a way that I could get over the barbed wire. It might not be the most sophisticated plan, but it's going to have to work.

Quietly, I walk over to the pile and begin picking them up slowly. The barricade is at least six feet high, so I'm going to have to bring bricks up to the top of the sandbags and lay them there before I can construct something over the wire. I slide my backpack off my shoulders so that it's easier to get the bricks to the top of the barricade. Clutching three bricks under one arm, I climb the sandbags and drop them on top. Thankfully, the sand masks the sound of the bricks landing.

I take another trip up with three more bricks without incident, and feel more confident in my plan. On my last trip up with bricks, I drop them on the sandbags, but one of them hits the corner and falls down to the road with a loud crash. The infected hear it and I can tell they're rushing to investigate. I drop down to the road to pick up my backpack and see them coming towards me on both sides. Shit.

With the speed of lighting, I put my backpack on and start climbing the sandbags. I hear them getting closer as I reach the top, their carnal breaths loud in the night. I'm about two inches away from pulling myself to the top when I feel one of them grab my foot and it yanks me down.

My fingers slip on the sandbags and I fall a few inches before I'm able to grab ahold of something. Wildly, I kick my feet in an attempt to get them off of me, but there are too many. In a last ditch effort, I grab my gun from my thigh holster and shoot the ones who drag me down. The shots ring out in the night and I know it's only going to attract more.

The few runners I've shot collapse to the ground, which gives the clicker more space to reach for me. Clickers are infinitely more terrifying than runners, and they're about ten times stronger too. Runners take one bullet to kill, clickers can take at least two or three. I aim my gun towards the clicker and pull the trigger, but it just clicks. It's empty. Quickly, I shove the gun back in the holster and use both hands to grab onto the sandbags.

Adrenaline pumps in my veins and I fight harder to pull myself away from the feral infected. My pant leg rips at the bottom from their clawing and I feel my fingers beginning to slip. Clenching my eyes shut, I grit my teeth and pull with all my might to get away.

Just as I'm about to accept my fate, a shot rings out and one of the infected crumples to the ground. Four more shots hit the clicker, and it falls as well, body twitching on top of the others. Without thinking I pull myself on top of the barricade and whip my head from side to side to see who shot them. I grab my curved knife from my belt and hold it in front of me.

My chest heaves with each breath I take as the adrenaline begins wearing off and the panic sets in. Whoever shot them could be coming for me next. What if it's the T group?

From the shadows I see a figure approaching, slinging a gun behind them as they quickly jog towards me. Once they get close enough, I recognize who it is immediately. It's Joel.

He runs to the barricade and holds out a hand. I put my knife away and offer him my help up the sandbags. We both start using the bricks to construct a makeshift bridge across the barbed wire, the screeches of a dozen approaching infected rushing our movements. Joel takes bricks from my shaking hands and practically stands me up on his own and pushes me across the bridge, my other pant leg ripping from the barbs.

My feet hit the ground with a hard thud, quickly followed by Joel. His hands push on the back of my backpack and one word is clear over the coming stampede.

"Run." We take off sprinting down the highway's entrance ramp. He's slightly faster than me but I keep up well. Joel points to an abandoned car that crashed into a guard rail and I nod, showing him I understand the plan.

We yank open the doors and climb in. If the infected make it over the barricade, they shouldn't see us here and eventually will disperse. The two of us are out of breath and we sit in silence, trying to regain our bearings.

After a few minutes of steadying my breath, I take my backpack off and sit it in my lap. I rest my head on it and lean forward, closing my eyes in an attempt to calm myself down.

"Thank you." I say, slightly breathless. Raising my head from my backpack, I look over to Joel, who's glancing in the mirrors to see what's behind us. His eyes flicker to mine and he gives me a stern nod, opting to stay quiet.

If it weren't for him I'd be some infected's dinner. That fact sinks in and I feel an immense amount of gratitude. He didn't have to save me. He could've left me for dead. Most people wouldn't stick their neck out for someone they barely know, but he did. Though he is a man of few words, his actions speak for his character.

My gaze turns to the mirrors as well, the two of us anxiously wait to see if the infected are going to make it over. The runners would have no issue scaling the wall given the proper motivation to do so, but they're less likely to if they can't immediately see something that grabs their attention.

After hours of us hunkering down silently in the car, Joel opens his door and gets out. He slings his bag and rifle on his back, looking behind him one more time. I get out and gear up as well. And just like the first time I met him, the silence is almost overwhelming. The morning sunlight begins rising, and I realize we spent almost the entire night in the car.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I debate whether or not I should say anything. Seeing as how he just saved my life, I decide it's the least I can do. I clear my throat and scratch the back of my neck, looking down at the ground to avoid awkward eye contact.

"I just want to thank you again for saving me back there. You really didn't have to put yourself at risk, but I appreciate it." I find the courage to look up, only to see him staring at me already with a fierce intensity.

"I thought you were headed towards that camp?" He asks, totally disregarding my appreciation.

"I was. I mean, I did. One guy was left but he was infected. I found clues though, about where they might be going." I tell him, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. He nods,

"So where're you headed?" He asks again, and it throws me off. This is the most talkative he's ever been.

"Omaha, Nebraska." I say, recalling the city where the large 'T' was located. Joel's eyebrows raise.

"That's quite a ways from here." He points out and I sigh, knowing I'm severely underprepared for the long road ahead.

"Yeah, I know. But I have to do this. I won't be able to live with myself if I don't." I confess to him. I'm well aware my choices defy logic, but, the alternative of letting the guilt eat me alive is worse.

Joel rests his hand on the top of the car and looks down the highway. He shifts his weight around like he's deep in thought for a few minutes. He's probably trying to think of a way to ditch me. Feeling like I'm intruding on his venture home, I speak up again.

"Listen, I appreciate what you did for me back there, all of it. But I know you're trying to get home so I'll get out of your hair, for real this time." I say and extend a hand out to him again, probably for the last time. Like before, he stares at my hand.

"I'm headed west and go right by Omaha." He says, squinting in the sunlight. I drop my hand once I realize he isn't going to take it, meaning we aren't splitting quite yet. My eyebrows draw tightly together in confusion as I try to understand what he's trying to get at. I think I understand, but I need to hear him clarify.

"Meaning what? We tag along 'til Omaha?" I hear the insecurity in my own voice and I hate it. Joel takes his hand back from the top of the car and nods.

"Safer that way, for the both of us." He confirms my thoughts and starts walking down the highway. I follow him, accepting his offer.

We walk side by side down the road, the only sounds being the birds in the sky and our gear rattling around. My mind is buzzing with questions I want to ask him, but I respect that he's a quiet, reserved man.

Every few minutes I check behind us, feeling paranoid that we're being followed. There's never anything there, but I'd rather check and see nothing than not check and be surprised. Joel is less paranoid I think, he walks with a silent confidence that tells me he's no stranger to the outside world. He understands it far better than I do.

The two of us walk for miles without saying a word until we come to an exit ramp. I recognize it as a suburb outside of Boston, but I've never been there before. Joel veers off the highway to the exit and I follow without question.

Off the ramp, there's a small town to the left and a bunch of housing complexes to the right. Seems like the perfect place for infected to be lurking about. But for some reason, I put my blind faith in the man leading me and trail him into the town.

He looks over his shoulder at me and points at a small brick building. I nod and approach it with him, preparing my knife for use. He stands on the opposite side of the entrance doors with his knife in hand, looking to me for confirmation that I'm ready. Silently, I nod and watch as he swings the door open. I wait for the sound of infected, but am pleasantly surprised with silence.

Joel seems to know where he's going though, he heads straight for the back room. I take my time to look around at the front room, seeing if there's anything of use. Most likely there isn't, but every once in a while I get lucky. The sound of whatever Joel is moving is enough to catch my attention, and I stand in the doorway. He's moving a large piece of plywood that's on the floor. There's a hole in the ground, and he drops down into it.

Curiosity gets the best of me and I go over to peek in the hole, seeing a small stash of supplies. Joel rummages around and picks up ammunition, a few cans, and another knife. He turns around and sees me staring above him, and he hands me items he can't carry himself; some cans of food and ammunition, before he pulls himself back out of the hole.

"You stashed that?" I ask quietly. He huffs as he puts away the extra supplies.

"A while ago." He answers and the two of us quickly shove the items in our bags. My bag feels like it gained fifteen extra pounds, but I can't complain. The extra weight means we have better survival odds.

Wordlessly, Joel moves out of the store and heads towards the suburban side of town, only a few miles walk away. The cookie-cutter houses remind me of the neighborhood I used to live in. A small, idyllic place at one point in time, turned to nothing but a ghost town now. Joel approaches the porch of one and opens the door. Luckily, it's empty and I follow him inside.

He blocks the main entrances to the home without a word, and I move to help him. I shove a strong chair underneath the handle of the back door and try to turn the handle to test its durability. After that, I make my rounds on the curtains and close them all. It seems like we're making this our base for the night. Once we've taken all the safety measures that we possibly can, Joel finds his way to the living room and unloads his stuff on the old, worn-down couch.

I place my backpack on the floor next to the couch and lean against the doorframe that connects the living room and kitchen, watching as Joel straightens his back out on the floor. His arms reach above his head to elongate his spine, and I hear the bones pop and crack. Wincing slightly, I turn my attention elsewhere in the house.

My eyes catch the fading family portrait on the wall and I go to look at it. The black frame houses an old photo. There's a man, woman, two kids, and a dog. They're all smiling, even the dog looks happy. My heart tugs at the sight of the happy family, and I can only assume what happened to them, just like so many other families. Sighing, I look at the other photos on the wall, seeing the slow growth of the children through still images. They look like they were probably high school age. My fingers find their way to the necklace that adorns my neck and I squeeze it tight.

A sound from behind me snaps me out of my thoughts and I turn back to see Joel staring at me. I offer him a polite smile and go to take a seat across from him on the floor, resting my back against the old couch. I fiddle with the torn edges of my pants, and can no longer restrain myself from asking questions. There are too many things I want answers to.

"How did you find me at that barricade?" My voice is soft. Joel clears his throat and shrugs.

"I took the long way 'round so I wouldn't interfere with whatever you were doin'. I was plannin' on taking this highway back home anyways. Guess it was just a coincidence." He plainly answers and I nod, accepting his answer.

"What a lucky coincidence." I smile, trying to break through the tension that always seems to hang over us. It's going to be a long trip west if he keeps things this short. He just shrugs in response,

"So what did you find 'bout those people?" He asks. I'm surprised he even cares, but I reach for my bag to show him what I've found. I spread the documents out in front of me and let him look. I explain to him what I know and what my theories are.

"Whoever they are, they need to be eradicated. Those kids, they were-" The tightness in my throat constricts my ability to talk and I take a shaky breath, remembering what it felt like to cradle the dying girl's head. Joel just nods, not needing further elaboration. He holds up the scraps of paper I found in the fire and reads the simple words.

"I'm not sure what those have to do with anything, and I'm not sure there's any sort of connection." I speak up, truthfully not knowing if they're of any value.

He puts the scraps down and picks up another piece of paper, the one with the Firefly insignia on it. As he reads the paper it's like the blood is drained from his face. My eyebrows knit together,

"What is it?" I ask and his startled eyes look deep into mine with fear that he tries to mask. An uneasy feeling settles in me. He looks back down to the paper and re-reads the note before he says anything.

"These bastards aren't going to live much longer." Is all he says before handing everything back over to me. The look on his face is unsettling, so I don't push anything further.

There has to be something he knows about this.

#joel miller #joel tlou #the last of us joel #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic

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lilaccrxsh · 2 years

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In The Locker Room - Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Pilot!F!Reader (18+)

Description: After a mission, you and Rooster have different feelings towards how it went, leading to other feelings coming to light.

Content warnings: fingering, face-sitting, swearing, enemies to lovers vibes (arguing then stuff), references to 'failed' missions (death), technically public sex (in the locker room)

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: The Top Gun brain rot is so real so naturally I produced this. Blame @unmistakablyunknown :) This is so not an original idea I just needed to write my own before I burst.

+ + +

The sound of the locker room door slamming against the wall, then swinging immediately shut with a great amount of force, reverberated through the room. You quickly pulled your clean tank top over your head. Whoever had just entered did not sound like they were in a good mood.

"Y/N!"

Oh. He was using your name, your actual name, not your call sign. For a moment you considered calling him by his first name, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction. Whatever had angered him was about to become your problem too. You were going to reply professionally.

"Rooster."

You crossed your arms over your chest. A defensive act as you braced yourself for whatever fight Bradley was about to pick with you.

He rushed round the corner, having to push against the wall as he slid to a stop. You had never seen him so annoyed.

"Y/N." Now he had found you, he didn't even attempt to get closer. Rooster stood on the opposite side of the room, glaring at you.

"What do you want?"

"For you to stop being so fucking reckless."

His remark stunned you. This is what riled him up? Today's successful mission.

"What are you talking about, Rooster? The mission was a success. All the planes are still intact and everyone's alive."

"But you might not be, Y/N!"

Rooster stepped towards you now, simultaneously thumping the metal of the locker door closest to him. The noise echoed. You resisted the urge to flinch.

Instead, you found yourself narrowing your eyes. What gave Rooster the right to talk to you in this way? You were barely even friends, let alone anything else. Since day one of the recall to Top Gun, the two of you had rubbed along, snarky remarks being thrown around the classroom like children. Rooster was the person who altered your call sign. You were 'Butterfly', but Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw decided that was one too many syllables - opting otherwise for 'Flutter'. You'd be lying if you said it didn't piss you off.

"Why the fuck do you even care, Rooster? I thought you'd be happy if I did something stupid and got kicked out, or worse."

"And you'd think that because?" Rooster took another step towards you.

"You're a dickhead! And it makes you even more of a dickhead if you can't see that!"

"That's what you think of me?" With every sentence, the anger seemed to dissipate from the man in front of you. Rooster had also taken another step closer.

"You've given me no other choice."

"Well you haven't given me a choice." Rooster roughly pointed a finger to his own chest. "Today you flew like it was your last day. That's too reckless, Y/N."

"Isn't that what we're meant to do, Rooster? Fly each mission as if it could be our last. What do you want me to do, huh? Fail?"

"No." There was now no space between you two. You were forced to look up at him. You slowed your breathing, consciously refraining from breathing deeply. If you did so, your bodies would have been touching.

"I want you to come home."

That was the calmest Rooster had spoken to you since entering the room - in fact, it may have been the softest thing he had ever said to you.

Why was he saying this? You searched his eyes to find no reason for you to believe he was being insincere. His gaze was hard and steadfast. The only piece of doubt you could find was a flicker of something odd. There was a hint of nervousness.

"You want, me," You paused, "to come home?"

"Always, Y/N. You scared me half to fucking death today."

Your mouth opened as if you were to reply but you couldn't find any words. How could you and Rooster go from arguing, to him alluding to something as crazy as this. This conversation was more ridiculous than any of the stunts you had pulled today.

What made everything worse, was that Rooster's gaze kept flickering from your eyes, to your lips. When he did it a second time, you bit down hard on your bottom lip. It was almost impossible now to control your breathing. You let your chest heave naturally, feeling the front of Rooster's flying suit through the thin material of your tank top.

It suddenly became clear why you could become so easily pissed off whenever you two were together. Rooster was already under your skin in another way.

"Y/N…"

"Don't." You reached up to lace your fingers into his brown hair. It was surprisingly soft to the touch. Your forearm rested on his shoulder. He was so close. It wouldn’t take much for you to seal the deal.

It was Rooster who leant down to you. You rose onto your toes to match the force he was putting into the kiss. It was hungry, messy, but intense. Something had broken inside of you, the dam you had unknowingly put up to hide your feelings had come crashing down.

You grasped the back of his neck, pulling him as close to you as you could. There was nowhere else to go apart from fall backwards against the cold metal of the locker behind you. Strong hips were on yours, causing you to press into Rooster further. The kiss was broken so fervent kisses could be peppered down the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, sweetheart.” Rooster spoke in punctured frames as he continued to attack your neck. There was going to be evidence of your escapade tomorrow.

His hand came to a stop on your hip, resting on the elastic of your sweatpants.

“May I?”

You could only nod. It became impossible to breathe as cool air was exposed to the hot skin of your waist, hips and even further below. Rooster had removed not only your sweatpants, but your panties too. Without breaking eye contact with you, he cautiously moved his whole hand directly between your legs. You jumped when the pads of his fingertips graced your clit.

Contact was brief as his final destination was further down. He stopped, waiting for a sign from you that he could continue. Rooster’s eyes lit up as he felt you tense uncontrollably around his one finger. To tease you further, he wasted no time in adding a second, letting out a short, lust-induced laugh when you tightened once again.

When Rooster curled the two fingers inside of you, your spine arched, the back of your head became the only part of you touching the cool metal of the lockers. You could look up at him, his eyes wide and taking all of you in. Rooster was still holding all your weight, your legs wrapped around his waist. A strong left arm was wrapped around yours, keeping you suspended between the lockers and his body.

"You're fucking tight, Y/N."

You whimpered at his filthy remark. His voice was low and husky. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, sending a mind numbing amount of pleasure through your core. It was as if your body knew what to do, your hips rolling by themselves in a coordinated dance.

"Go on. Ride my fingers, baby girl."

"St-" You went to let out a desperate plea for Rooster to stop talking. You weren't going to last much longer if he continued to speak to you in this way.

"'Stop'?" You could practically hear him smirking. "Now why would I do that?"

For a moment you thought he had. Pressure left your core, and you wanted to scream when you saw him bring his soaked fingers up to his mouth.

"You taste good, Y/N. So why should I stop there?"

In one swift movement, your places were changed. Rooster was below you now, head rested comfortably where his right hand had been moments before. He now held you up by your ass, his palms kneading into your skin. Tufts of his hair traced the inside of your thighs. You could feel his breath warm on your core.

You looked down at him, eye-lids fluttering as it became impossible to hold them open. The flat of his tongue moved up your slit, until he was able to neatly suck the small bump of your clit. A strangled cry fell out of you as you squirmed. Hands were on your ass, keeping you held perfectly to his face. You weren't going anywhere - not until Rooster had made you cum right there in the locker room.

“Bradley…” His name fell from your lips as if it was made for you to say it. This time it was Rooster who made an animalistic noise from between your legs.

“You’re gonna cum for me, Y/N. My sweet Butterfly…”

That was it. With those final words spoken you became undone right there. Right in the open in the communal locker room. You practically rode Rooster’s face as your orgasm racked your frame. He held you firm however, keeping you angled perfectly so he could help you ride through the high. Rooster only stopped when he was satisfied. You had collapsed onto him, your weight completely on his shoulders. He continued to clean you up with his mouth, finishing with a final kiss to your clit. You were too spent to react.

Rooster bundled you into his arms. He sat back onto the tiled floor, holding you in his lap. He seemed hesitant to kiss you again, after his previous excursions. You didn’t mind, initiating this kiss yourself. You were all over him, in every way possible.

“God, we should have done that sooner.”

“You just needed to stop being a dick.” You smirked.

This made Bradley laugh. “I can’t promise anything, sweetheart.”

Masterlist

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun: maverick #tgm #lilaccrxsh

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mysticalsoot · 1 year

Text

too, more, and most

A/N: this was originally supposed to be a lil valentine's blurb but then it took a very dark turn so it won't be that unless you want it to be, and in that case then sure, this very dark fic can be a valentine's gift to you all (all 70 of you??? what the fuck??) anywho ty all for the love on my writing, can't begin to express how fucking cool that is and how thankful I am!!!

TW// very dark, death is alluded to until straight out said, sorta MCD but redeemed, lots of swearing, derealization, hallucinations, death ish. that's it I think?

Summary: Wilbur is a broken man with attachment issues, his problems only worsen after reader breaks up with him. he finds out his love isn't here anymore but finds himself discovering what true reality is his.

Pairings: cc!wilbur x reader

Pronouns: they/them and use of y/n and l/n

Words: 3,378 (forgot to add at first, sry)

masterlist

@lvrboysoot love u, elliot. sorry for the pain I'm gonna inflict upon you with this</3

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Wilbur was picky with who he said I love you to. His family was one thing, parents, brothers—those were easy. When it came to others, friends, romantic partners—those were more difficult, more calculated when he eventually admitted it.

But once he did, he never stopped saying it. And he was stubborn, fully set that he loved you more than anything than anyone ever loved anyone else.

He would say it at least once an hour, and if he was away he'd text the words to you, followed by some stupid mushy gif. He'd write love letters readmitting his feelings for you, attaching a little wild flower he found somewhere in the garden. He'd leave it on your side of the bed and sneak away back into his office. He sat in his desk chair and pretend to work as he listened for you to open the front door. He'd wait there, patiently dilly-dallying whilst he waited for your arms to wrap around him and kiss the top of his head.

He'd follow it by saying; "I love you, darling." His hands resting on your arms that snuck around his shoulders, your chin now on the top of his head.

"I love you too," Is what you would reply with, he'd chuckle and press a kiss to your arm.

"I love you more." Wilbur wasn't one to back down on this exchange, he was sure his love for you outweighed any amount of love for anyone or anything else.

Whoever ended the exchange would say I love you most.

It always mostly worked to end the exchange. Sometimes it just wasn't enough and strings of I love you's were exchanged. The word most wasn't the end all be all, unfortunately.

Or was that even...real?

—★—

The ceiling was far from interesting, but staring at it was better than falling asleep in Wilbur's mind. The other side of the bed was cold, and the lack of warmth and a person beside him, infected his bones with the same bone-chilling temperature the sheets beside him had.

He'd reach his hand over every once and a while, subconscious habits taking over his actions, the exhaustion blurring his mind's ability to keep control.

He forgot how he loathed being alone. And he regretted not saying those words sooner. You would still be here next to him, your hand on the back of his neck, your own head nuzzled into his chest and his arm holding you close to his body, the two of you now one.

Wilbur should have said I love you a long time ago. Sleeping wouldn't be a dreaded activity and maybe the bags under his eyes wouldn't be so dark they look like black eyes anymore. He'd have a reason to move forward.

His phone had been shut off by him for a few weeks, and the bills still went through but he needed to ignore all the pleas and notifications from friends and family.

No, James, Wilbur does not want to go out drinking and talk about it. He'd much rather have anything else.

And no, Tommy, Wilbur didn't want to join your next vlog at the beach. Do you want him to break down?

Jack asked to come over and play some Mario Kart with him to take his mind off things. They all had valid concerns and they were only doing their best but he didn't want to do anything.

Not when he could have prevented the situation he's in, he's in a void, and he has no purpose as far as he's concerned.

Ash was the most gentle of them all, he asked if Wilbur was okay a few times, always following it up with "you don't have to talk about it, just know that I'm here". He was kind, quiet, and gentle. Wilbur had genuinely contemplated answering his friend, spilling his guts on how it was his fault and that there wasn't anything he could do that would mend it, everything was gone and it was his fault. But he didn’t he kept his thoughts and feelings to himself.

He kept the too, more, and most to himself. He couldn’t tell you, so why tell anyone? It was best held close to his heart like an unforgiving secret, one that if spilled would put a ripple in space and time. So it was a secret forever held behind the bars of heartbreak.

He tried peeling himself out of bed, wiping his face of old dried tears--he couldn't cry anymore so the saltwater stains on his cheeks were days old, or maybe weeks, Wilbur couldn't tell. It took him a few minutes to coax his aching and tired body to sit up at the least--and even more time to convince himself to turn his phone back on. Maybe he would regret doing so, maybe he wouldn’t but the only way to know was to just..do it. So he did, the screen on his phone lit up, the classic white apple illuminating his face as he waited there, his eyes glued to the screen as it booted up. A few seconds and five password attempts later, his phone was unlocked and in the sms app.

He gravitated towards the last messages with you, it didn't take much convincing for him to open it and when he did, it felt like a train hit him. All of the emotions—the regret, the pain—came flooding back to him.

The last message he ever got from you was "I love you". He mentally kicked himself for never saying it and he threw his phone down on his bed, regret bubbling up his throat and he pulled on his hair. Dry, pained sobs escape his chest and he's shaking. This is so stupid. I'm so stupid. His thoughts ran wild, taunting him, stabbing him. Looking him in the face and telling him how this is all his fault. It's all his fault. It has to be all his fault.

He begins shaking, pulling his legs up to his chest, and wraps his arms around his knees, shoving his face between them. No tears fall, and the sobs lessen, although no less painful than before. He tries to take deep breaths, pushing the image of your last message to him that's burned into his vision, further and further from his consciousness. If his brain can push every other bad memory away, why won't it hide this one? God, he's so stupid—what person forces themselves to face the one thing that tore them apart? Wilbur would be it. He is the one to do that and he regrets it.

His breathing slows to a steady pace, and he drops his hands from his hair. He wants to curl up inside himself and just shrivel up until he's nothing but particles in the air. And he wants to, he really wants to. But he promised himself he would go out today and do something helpful for himself. Maybe some fresh air would help.

Or maybe it'll just remind him of you

Either way, he needed out. His bed was beginning to feel claustrophobic and the walls of his room felt like they were closing in on him. Not to mention he hasn't showered in at least a week, and the last time he did shower, James had forced him and stood outside the bathroom door the entire way because he knew Wilbur would try and trick him.

He lifted his blankets and tossed them to the side, throwing his legs over the side of his bed and pushing himself up to stand. His legs wobbled for a moment in a lack of use and then he mindlessly brought himself to his dresser, grabbing a sweater and some jeans, and whatever else he needed before his legs brought him to the bathroom and he turned on the shower.

The water burned his skin but was somehow comforting in the way he turned red as the water hit him. It burned, but it was nice. It was an unfortunate reminder he was alive, and this was real. But perhaps, a cold shower would be even worse, so the reminder of his reality through burning hot water droplets on his skin was a much better alternative than cold ice water douching him in the painful realization of never being able to get you back.

That was worse than anything. That you were forever to never be his again.

It wasn't much longer that he stood under the hot water, and then he soon stepped out, hurriedly wrapping himself in a towel to avoid the chilling cold you always feel after a boiling shower. He doesn't bother to change whilst in the bathroom, but instead snatches his clothes from the cluttered sink counter and pulls open the door, bringing himself back to the warmth of his room while he slips on his clothes, his sweater being last after a T-Shirt underneath.

He knew that if he made any more contemplation over whether he should go outside or not, he'd never make it past his bedroom door. So he was quick in grabbing his keys and wallet before slipping out of his bedroom door followed by his apartment door. He quickly locked the door until it clicked and hurried down the stairs. The faster he got downstairs, the less time he had to rethink his decisions.

He's quick to push open the clear entrance door to his apartment building, passing by some of his neighbors he's never met and then he's out of the stuffy building. He's hit with a wave of wind, hitting the tip of his nose, and the cool scent warming him in calm comfort. It's nice to feel comfort again, it's so, so nice.

He stands there for a moment, taking in the cool, fresh air. To passersby, he looks like an idiot who's most likely high—but in reality, he's a broken man who hasn't left his house in weeks and feels he no longer has a purpose. Neither version is a good one, but what he really is, is much better than the alternative.

He pauses for a moment, taking in what's around him. Wilbur didn't think about what he was going to do past walking outside, so now he's stuck. Maybe he could go right back inside or maybe he—

There's a shadow of a person on the beach, or maybe it just looks like a shadow—but something about it draws him to it. Where the shadow seems to pace on the beach—the person-shaped shadow—isn't far from where he stands in front of his apartment building. He's curious, and the curiosity gets to him and he's hurriedly walking over to the stairs that lead down to the beach. He doesn't waste any time finding that damned shadow, he doesn't even know why he wants to know what it is, so badly. But he does, he really does and his hurried walking turns to jogging until he's full-out sprinting on the pebble beach, the saltwater-twisted air hitting his nose sharply.

The shadow becomes more and more of a human shape the closer he gets to it. And then he's a foot away. And the shadow turns around to face him. And it isn't a shadow anymore. It's a person. It's a fucking person. But it isn't just any person, no, no—it's you.

It's you. It's you. It's you. Oh god, it's you.

But you don't look…alive. You look dead, gone. You're practically transparent and he wonders if this is what it was like for people to see Ghostbur if the DreamSMP was real. Dear god, you're dead. Or are you? Maybe he's just hallucinating, maybe he spent too long in his flat and now his mind doesn't know what reality is and so it's tricking itself into believing you're here. But as a shadow.

He wants to run so badly but something keeps him angered onto the pebble-covered beach. Why can’t he stop looking at you? And why in all things good can he not move?

“Y/N,” It’s the only thing he utters, and it's broken and quiet in the way he says it.

You simply stare at him, his expression cracking and shattering in the same way his heart does all over again, and then you’re gone again. You simply poof into thin air.

He takes hours before he can drag himself back to his flat, and he still hasn’t figured out if what he saw was real or not--but he’d rather not dwell on that for now. He just needs to get back home, he didn't even bring his phone with him, who knows how many people have tried contacting him whilst he was on his..walk. You could call it a walk, that’s for sure.

The door is opened haphazardly, and he nearly bangs his head against the side of it, not noticing his surroundings. He takes the stairs, his steps slow and by no means careful, and then hes on his floor, dragging himself to his flat. He unlocks the door until it clicks and then beelines for his room and snatches his phone off his bed.

He has a few dozen messages from friends, some from his parents and brothers--but he ignores them all and goes straight to safari;

Y/N L/N obituary

He presses the search button and turns his phone screen away from himself, face down in his lap. Wilbur has been offline for weeks--anything could’ve happened--and who would tell him anyways? Plus, who’s to say what felt like weeks to him, hasn't been months?

A few moments later and with some reassurance from himself, he turns the screen back to face him and his eyes glance to the first result.

Y/N dead at 26, drowned at brighton beach

It’s dated four months ago.

But they broke up with him three weeks ago? You were alive mere weeks ago! How did this--how did this happen?

It was your ghost he saw, that much he knows.

You died.

God…

You’re dead.

Wilbur finds tears sliding down his cheeks, droplets plopping onto his phone screen and he pulls the sleeve of his sweater over his hand to wipe away the salty liquid from his face and he sniffles.

How didn’t he know? Why didn’t anyone tell him?

He should go back to the beach.

The beach sounds great…maybe he’ll find you again, maybe he can ask questions and get answers for all of the wonders wandering his mind.

That’s what he should do.

And so he does, but this time he takes a blanket and his phone with him.

It’s the same path as before but now he knows where he’s going when he steps outside and its dark now. The biting cold wind of dusk hits his face in a harsh sharpness, but he moves on and continues walking, blanket rested over his arm and head held up as he looks around for you.

He spots you on an old pier and is quick to follow you, walking up the crickety stairs, being slow and careful with his steps, cautious to not spook the ghost of you again. He has questions that need answers, and scaring you away does him no good.

He keeps walking to the edge of the pier, there aren’t any railings, and its entirely open. He stops when hes one to two feet away from you and he drops the blanket on the planks of wood below. He looks up from the ground, eyes meeting your shadowy figure slowly revealing details about you, although still transparent, you aren’t just a shadowy figure.

“Hello, love,” Wilbur is sure to put on a soft smile when he speaks, and you shake your head at him, looking down.

You look up, head tilting and bottom lip poking out as a taunt, “I’m not your love,”

“I--I know you’re dead but--”

“No,” is all you say, and then you’re gone again.

Wilbur wants to break down again, decompose, and scream and sob and cry. But instead, he just stands there in cowardice. He doesn’t move, he simply stands in silence. He finds himself walking towards the edge of the pier and then he sits down, legs dangling over the water.

He wonders what would---

No, Wilbur, no.

He recoils. Pulls his legs up. Backs away from the edge. He feels someone push him. He pushes back and tries to find the source of said force--it’s just him up here. But he keeps pushing against the force trying to knock him off and he’s doing a great job of it--until he doesn’t and then he’s plummeting down and he twists in the air as he falls and something in his mind speaks.

“Your end is the same as your love’s”

And then it's all black.

The next thing he knows he’s choking up water or what feels like choking up water. But he doesn’t feel like he’s in water and-- But hes awake? Alive? It feels dry around him but he still can’t see.

He tries crying out, his eyes practically glued shut and he can’t force them open.

He jolts up and his eyes shoot open, his eyes frantically search the room, it's dark and he can barely see anything and then he sees an outline of a person; you. But you’re dead! And he’s dead!

Or is he, or are you? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t know anything anymore.

The shadow-like figure--you, kneel down in front of him, hands on his shoulders and your features come into view; eyebrows knitted in concern, eyes wide with fear, and mouth agape with worry.

“Love,” You inch closer to him and he backs away in fear, breathing rapid and labored, “Are you okay?” You pull your hands away in response to his skittishness.

He shakes his head, “You’re supposed to be dead,” His voice is quiet and it cracks when he speaks like he hasn’t spoken in months.

“What?”

He just shakes his head and pulls his legs up to his chest, hiding the lower half of his face between his knees, eyes the only thing in vision and his gaze is locked on you--completely unwavering.

“I’m not going to hurt you, my darling,” You put your hand out as an offering and he takes it into consideration, eyeing it like it has the chance to burn him.

“You won’t leave?” Wilbur’s eyes glance to yours for a moment before refocusing back onto your offered hand.

You shake your head, a soft smile donning your lips, “Never,”

He utters a small ‘ok’ and takes your hand and a few moments later he catapults himself into your arms. Heavy sobs ricocheted out of his chest. Your arms wrap tightly around him, and his own arms do the same for you. The two of you sit there in silence, the only noises are of the fan set up in your room or the sound of his cries as you hold him.

“I love you,” His voice is soft, small but he means it. He means it so much more than you could know.

“I love you too, bur,” You place a kiss on his temple, your hand reaching to tangle with his hair, “so, so much,”

He hums in response and another silence blankets the two of you in comfortable warmth, and then you’re the one to break it this time;

“What happened?”

He shrugs, “So much,”

You rest your chin atop his head, one hand playing with his hair and the other rubbing his back, “Wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head, “No,” He pauses, gears turning in his head as he mulls over what to say next, “I love you more, by the way,”

A small, joyous laugh escapes your throat, “And I love you most.”

The two of you spend the rest of the evening like that, in each other's arms, muttering reassurances of your love for the other--and eventually, he tells you of all he’s experienced. And you feel horrible, your heart aches for him but you’re happy he’s in your arms now.

And he smiles.

He knows you’re not going anywhere and he knows you love him too, more, and most.

#wilbur soot #cc!wilbur #cc!wilbur x reader #dsmp wilbur #wilbur #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x gn!reader #wilbur x you #wilbur is a sad lil wet cat #im so sorry for this #i am too broke to pay for anyones therapy after this sorry #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot angst #wilbur soot hurt/comfort #sorry man #implied sbi #sbi #sorta

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