#it's like the easiest Bob to pull out
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it's so funny how we're going ''okay actually he does look like bob''. fact is anyone with curly hair and sunglasses can look like bob
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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 2
summary ;; Your burning determination to prove your father wrong and Jake's wish to teach you a lesson both end up in a pyrrhic victory.
PART 1 | PART 3
pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader
genre ;; pure angst and family feels
notes / explanations ;; im speechlessly overwhelmed at the sheer amount of love you guys showed me these past couple of days. like. literally never had something like this happen to me before. i got too excited to finish this chapter to give back to yall, there was an attempt to proofread but... i hope it's not too bad, please enjoy! as always, if you see any mistakes, im sorry!
The path further into the floating mountains was all the worse to navigate thanks to the lack of light, the only useful guides you had were the faintly flickering bioluminescent lights from the forest deep below. The branches twisting around each other to create a naturally built bridge from mountain to mountain benefited from this, contrasting as a clear obscured line to your eyes against the glow underneath.
The easiest part of your journey, in hindsight, was just skipping along this line.
You weren’t exactly happy about this.
The more you left behind, the more you were freaked out that Neteyam or anyone else was onto your intentions already and hot on your trail right this moment. Imagining father making a beeline to you in the air with Bob, a cruel, merciless whistling arrow, made you all jittery and almost puking kind of nervous, pulling at the depths of your stomach.
Your rationality told you that it was a half an hour walk to your spot from the tent, and Neteyam would be hurrying the more he thought he wasn’t able to catch up with you along the way, so you had around twenty minutes until the whole family was panicking and raising the clan to look for you.
Tuk had gone missing once thanks to some hide and seek game with Lo’ak (she’d hidden so well and was waiting for her siblings to find her already, blindly sticking to the game for an entire day, not out of stubbornness but childish purity), and this was exactly what had gone down —
the resentful part of you questioned if father thinks of you highly enough to resort to that.
If something happened to you, he would maybe urge your brothers to search for you for a while, and drop it then — leaving you to your own devices happily.
Maybe.
Were you even worth it in his eyes for a search party? You wondered if he cared enough that you disappeared.
But that was a stupid, childish thought you knew you fantasized about a lot — perhaps this was why he’d called you immature. This was no mindset for a strong, independent, confident hunter. The thought father was right, even a miniscule bit was bitter on your tongue, worse than what he called black coffee.
Disappearing so you’d find out just how much he cared was unfair to mom, for one.
She had lost so much in such a short amount of time, the stories she sang poignantly about were hard to listen to without tearing up. Her home. The trees of voices, all the lost ancestors. Her father. Uncle Tsu’tey. Her first ikran, Seze. Loss upon loss you think there’d be nothing left to give anymore, but sky people’s fire was always hungry, always willing to waste more to grow bigger.
You wouldn’t forgive yourself for making her cry in your pursuit to punish father. Never.
You weren’t a child.
Just wanted to be one, sometimes.
Wanted father to babytalk you, pet your head longer than a passing touch as he walked away hurriedly to attend to other matters, make beads for your braids the way he always did from pretty stones he found on ponds, carve you little trinkets when you graciously had to give up your toys to Lo’ak and Kiri’s greed.
Your neck piece was all them in fact, he’d see it if he ever paid enough attention, or perhaps it was all insignificant to him, five kids meant countless belongings for each individual child had been passed down from his hands, it would be a miracle for father to recognize you still wore his clumsy creations. But again, it had been too long since he’d even looked at you affectionately, he wouldn’t See.
He’d transferred those habits entirely to Neteyam at one point in time.
Your older brother would always ruffle Lo’ak’s hair and tease him the way father used to, comfort him in his own playful way, and even though the younger looked discontent at being babied, you knew he was happy Neteyam was quite literally his shadow to look after him through tough times — including shielding from father’s line of fire. In return, he was suffering from being a foil to the older son, you understood the struggle because you were going through the same comparison, you just weren’t obsessed with catching and living up to father as much as Lo’ak did.
Win some, lose some, I guess.
Plus, Neteyam was trembling under the massive planet-weight pressure, he had to set the standard, he had to live up to the older brother title. He was becoming more of a father figure to Tuk as days passed and the Olo’eyktan became more transparent from his family’s life as a dad to five.
Besides, Lo’ak made trouble enough for two people to go around that you felt bad for your big brother, Kiri was thankfully more mellow (despite frequently hanging out together with him and Spider) compared to him that Neteyam could breathe, not having to divide his attention.
You were in awe of her about how disconnected she was from all the changing dynamics. She had her own problems you could never understand, more spiritual than your grandmother, and ever the ethereal soul who you thought would disappear into Eywa if flesh wasn’t holding her down to Eywa’eveng.
You were the teeniest, tiniest bit jealous of her (and Tuk) holding the softer sides of father, the boys thought he was deliberately softer because they were girls — but you were also a girl, so why weren’t you allowed in?
Well, thanks to that, you’d gotten closer with Neteyam and known him better after the whole clan had settled on High Camp, so it wasn’t all that bad. You could badmouth father all day long sitting on some rock and make him laugh abashedly, guilty that he was smiling along with the trashing of the father’s name he respected so much — it was therapy, as Norm had taught humans frequently sought back on earth. It got you trying some things with Neteyam, becoming more of a companion and ranting buddy for him who he could be honest and open with, so that he didn’t have to worry about taking up a larger role in your life to fill father’s missing presence. You were concerned about him more than he could be concerned about you.
That got you contemplating if father had noticed how comfortable his two oldest children were with each other that it was always Neteyam who he sent after you. A girl could dream, no? For one moment, it wasn’t because it was Neteyam’s responsibility, but because father was paying attention to how his kids got along.
The image of him pushed you to be frantically fast to reach your destination as the fear returned with might. If he caught you right now when you had no ikran to prove him wrong, the punishment he was sure to give would be way more humiliating, you at least wanted something in your name to taunt him with if you were going down anyways.
A smile crept up your face at imagining him discombobulated and speechless, unable to pick out one thing that you did wrong.
The carelessness that came with your speed combined with how dark it was to see where to clutch and put your feet on caused you to slip up countless times when climbing, the sharp rocks scraping the insides of your palms and insides of your forearms, lifting your skin up. What you cared about more than the pain was that the blood was now tracking material for your family to sniff you out — you couldn’t exactly wipe the rocks clean, so you carried on with a hammering heart, more afraid of father ruining your perfect moment than whatever ikran that would soon be going straight for your throat.
At least you were able to wash the blood off your hands in the waterfall.
Downside? You couldn’t see shit. With your bare back flushed straight to the wall of rock and your feet feeling out the thin edge, the shrill cry of ikrans and the roaring of water was about to overwhelm your senses too much to pay attention —
and you slipped.
The shriek that ripped out of you at the sensation of falling and the drop of your stomach alone almost made you pass out, and for a split second it was a good thing that you wouldn’t feel the moment you died, but your body, once again, was one step ahead of you, it twisted in the air the last second and your hands gripped the ledge.
The wet rock and your blood made all that your life was hanging on slippery as you dangled into the abyss, swaying with the strong winds at this height.
You didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the nervousness, but something made you laugh out loud, and the bubbling laughter continued until you were able to pull yourself up safely at the ikran rookery, finally.
Looking around like a fish out of water, how you hadn’t cracked your skull open shooting down to the forest below was a total miracle.
You’d made it?
No one was there to witness what you just pulled off in total darkness. Your whole body was shaking, and you weren’t even chosen by an ikran yet. This was happening. Shit. This was totally happening!
Your excited and terrified, “Hell yeah!” went unheard apart from your aerial crowd.
But.
One among them answered your holler with its own that cut into the night like a battle horn. It was the closest one to you that was apparently watching you the whole time, starting to roar at you and twitching on its feet, shadow in the night informing you of its movements.
You’d seen from Neteyam and Lo’ak’s iknimayas that you only had a few seconds to pull your shit together until it attacked, this was meant to be dangerous, serious, you could end up as a late night snack to them if things went wrong, but you couldn’t stop grinning from ear to ear that it had chosen you.
You were chosen.
It wanted you as its rider.
If only father could see you now. The sensation of being the one — being special was unmatched. Now you could somehow get the fraction of the high he must have felt as Toruk Makto.
The, “Let’s fucking go!” that left you kept echoing into the night as you lunged at it, dodging to the left when it snapped at your head, hooking one arm around the ikran’s slender neck and clamping your legs around it the moment it started thrashing around wildly.
You didn’t know why father had made a big deal out of it. You formed tsaheylu in no time, breaking Neteyam’s record — and you didn’t even have the rope to hoop around its neck and jaw.
Firstborn daughter excellence.
Confidence restored and triumphing wildly to the pulse of your heart, the flickering smile on your face in wonder turned into a full-fledged smirk. At that moment, nothing mattered. It was just you and your victory. Proving father wrong.
Feeling the ikran’s lifeforce through the bond, a shiver went down your back as his beady eye looked up at you, pupil shrinking and expanding rapidly while you both took a minute to catch your breaths after the fierce wrestling.
“Gotcha,” you panted. “You’re mine now.”
The adrenaline made everything sparkle and shine, your spirits soaring high and unbothered about literally anything else in the world, and for one glorious moment, lost in the memories of your brothers’ iknimayas boasting with cheers from the clan and sometimes encouraging, sometimes fearful screams of your parents, your spirit sought them out to be soaked in the same pride — forgetting that it was night and nobody was there to celebrate you.
You were all alone.
The smile dropped from your face and crashed down like paper thin porcelain upon the slightest movement.
Right.
You’d forgotten you were doing this out of spite. It snuffed every twinkle of magic away from the previously shimmering milestone of your life.
Your ikran felt the crushing disappointment through your connection and chirped at you, almost like an excited sibling pulling on your arm to show you something, weirdly comforting. Mom’s ikran was a spitfire, but also nurturing — this one felt different somehow, you felt him bouncing from wall to wall in your head, hyperactive and cheerful.
Flying! He wanted to fly!
The first flight sealed the bond, after all.
You weren’t alone even if none of your family members were here to share the joy — you had your new buddy. And the drop of gravity was thrilling this time, not the terrifying chaos that had your asshole shriveling up as it was when you’d missed your step.
The flights with mom were something you looked forward to, drying up in frequency as you aged, you’d missed the wind on your body and the greenery dancing below as you maneuvered in the air — but mom reserved nighttime rides for father only, and after the move to High Camp, the skimpering chance you could get your way if you begged cutely enough was gone too. You’d never flown at night.
The sight was out of this world. The stars leaving a glowing trail above you, the forest pulsing with faint purple, green and blue lights underneath, everything was elevated in beauty because darkness let them shine.
You made loops in the air with your ikran, got as high in the air as you could before your breath thinned, and scraped at the tips of trees before shooting up again, all the while laughter you’ve never screamed before bubbled out of you.
And you were all alone. There was no mom to gleefully taunt your ikran with hers to get both of you dancing in the air. There was no father to watch on with a small smile he was fighting. There was no Neteyam to stop you from dipping too close to the ground, and no Lo’ak to challenge you to get closer to race with him — no Kiri to complain how all of you were being so childish, how stupid this was all the while she was the worst of you all, instigating all the chaos.
No Tuk in your mom’s lap whining about you guys leaving her off the fun.
Instead, there was the scent of a bogey in the air, snapping you out of the haze of sorrow.
When had you ventured out further into unprotected territory?
Linked with your thought process, the ikran stopped advancing forward and started beating his wings downward to stay unmoving, you observed the surroundings to get a better feeling of where you were, and noticed this was around the old shack, artificial lights were gliding between the leaves and branches that obscured your view of just who was roaming the grounds at night, definitely not a natural part of the forest’s flora.
Father’s voice materialized in your head, drilled into you and your siblings’ heads over and over again. If you come across any threat at all, do not engage, fall back and inform me. Got it? You call for me first.
And that split second of being afraid was your death sentence — that father would be so angry at you for your ignorance, amateurism, carelessness and idiocy that he could throw you out of the family for almost leading the demons to base simply by being there that they could figure out what direction you’d come from. That moment of weakness was enough for someone to snipe you out, and get you falling down from your ikran straight into the forest below, the cries of your new friend falling silent on your ears as you did your best to hug giant leaves to cushion your fall to the best of your ability. .
Barely any time was left for you to shake the disorienting motion sickness off, you couldn’t even attempt to run into the accepting, protective hands of the forest before whoever just shot at you was onto you, harshly gripping your arms and raising you up.
Father’s gonna be so mad if he finds out. Shit, I gotta get out of this.
But… Avatars? In full camo, armored, even. You hadn’t heard of this from anybody in camp!
“Damn! Didn’t actually think you’d be able to land the shot from all of that tree, man! Up-top!”
Two of them high-fived, you were actually going to be sick.
Thumb between his belt and stomach, another Avatar strutted towards you. The saunter and confidence meant that he was their leader. “Now, now… What do we have here?”
“A native.” You were being pushed down on your knees, one hand being grabbed and shown like a trophy. Just how many were there? You couldn't calm yourself enough to focus! “Four fingers.”
The speaker this time was a woman. “How unusual. Those monkeys don’t leave their coven at night.”
“Where were you flying, little bird?” The leader, a sleazy smirk on his face, leaned down to take a good look at you. “Leading away from the nest, perhaps?”
“She don’t understand, Colonel, don’t bother. Ya think Sully could ever manage teaching one word of English to those?”
“Watch how she learns in three seconds.” He yanked on your queue so hard you saw white light in this hour of darkness — and when your vision came back, a screen with your father’s face was being shoved to your face. “Jake Sully. Toruc Mactoe. Where is he?”
You screamed when he pulled with increasing strength, keeping up with the act you didn’t understand. And the state of pain and terror massively helped, contributing to you looking frantic and lost, only knowing that you were being zapped to your core.
“Seems like I don’t need to ask you.” His fingers snapped your head back to get a good look at your earpiece, late to notice you had it on at all because of the dark. “Can directly ask the man himself.”
All you could form to think was, ‘Father’s gonna kill me for this. He’s actually gonna kill me this time.’
You weren't terrified of what the Avatars would do to you. You were afraid of him.
One empty shell from the reloaded machine gun flew away, tinkling hollow when it fell down, and rolled until it stopped in a small pool of water that had formed on the jagged ground of the cave systems. In the scarlet and orange glow of the campfire he’d haphazardly put together right outside of their home out of impatience after Neytiri had basically thrown him out, Jake almost mistook the liquid for blood.
An ominous cloud of dread settled on his shoulders, a paranoia every father tended to go through.
“Big Brother, this is Devil Dog. State your status, over.”
Neteyam didn’t miss a beat to answer, thankfully. “Devil Dog, this is Big Brother. I’m still en route to Foxcove, over.”
“How much longer?”
“Ten minutes at best, sir. Over.”
What he wanted to say was how come he hadn’t met you halfway, but it was empty talk. No need to stress the boy out. “Devil Dog signing out.”
This girl was half the reason for the wrinkles on his forehead, Jesus Christ. He was basically waiting you out like a father sitting in the dark to ambush his daughter who had snuck out at night, for that single glorious moment of yeah that’s right, you got caught, after the light would come on to ruin that moment of relief of successfully making it back in.
His mate had scolded him to be nice and understanding, a Marine was anything but, the closest he could compromise was not being as mean to you than he had to be. Sassing, “So how was your Iknimaya?” like he planned was out the window — Neytiri was spot-on to say the girl would simply give the same mean energy right back at him, and that could only mean another erupting volcano of a fight and a good night’s sleep ruined for him, overthinking where he went wrong and how else he could have salvaged the situation.
He’d just make you tend to the ikrans for a week for some patience practice, cleaning shit for hours on a daily basis would certainly throw the temporary whim of the rite of passage hyperfixation out of your system. The possibility of you shouting you hated him was unavoidable, but Jake had to get his point across, no matter how terribly it nauseated him to hear something like that from his child.
It was strange to remember he couldn’t care less for what people thought of him in the past. Some shithead he wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about hated Jake’s guts? Good. He was living in their head rent free, it was fun even — Neytiri too, Jake absolutely enjoyed her hating game at first.
Being legitimately resented by his very own child, though, was a heartbreak he didn’t expect to hurt him the way it did, knocking air off his lungs the first time he heard it. A burning stab right in his heart that wouldn’t go away until he had to hear it for himself you hadn’t meant any of what you said.
Because that said hate actually stemmed from hurt Jake must have inflicted. Because you could actually despise him, and never allow him to reconnect with you again if he could ever manage to garner the courage to reach out to you — a mightier challenge than hunting Toruk in the sense it actually scared him.
His teenage daughter. Scared him.
Jake didn’t know what to do about it, he couldn’t even show what exactly this made him feel, too ashamed and proud for it in the first place.
The growing distance between you and him was an uneasy, frightened bird he tried to shush and calm in his heart in favor of other pressing matters that drilled small holes in the depths of his stomach, and over time, those little holes had fused together to create one big pit with greater gravitational pull than the sun — until Jake didn’t know how to stitch them back together anymore.
He told himself he would talk to you later, for sure. The morning after every argument, every fight, every jab from you he snapped at he would try to make amends for, definitely.
And then he didn’t.
“What is this, are you palulukan ambushing prey? I told you to make up with her, not prepare for hunting.”
Jake shook his head, dropping the machine gun back inside the crate. The warmed metal was some sort of consolation to his nerves. Marine habit. Always felt safer with a gun near. (Or was it the American in him?) “Neytiri,” he acknowledged, bobbing his head. “I’m just passing time.”
“What do you think will happen when she comes back and sees you waiting for her like this?”
Ah, like the old times when Jake couldn’t do one thing right in her eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said playfully, but with no mirth behind it, closing the crate with a muffled thunk. With nothing to do with them, one elbow went to his knee and the other hand’s fingers started a rhythm on the lid he’d just shut.
His mate’s hand gingerly came down on his shoulder, kneading the nerves. “Just talk to her, Ma’Jake.”
“I don’t know how to,” he admitted, he covered her fingers on her shoulder with his, and she immediately held his hand back. “Don’t know what to even tell her.” He gave an exhale from the deeper, tired parts of his soul, gazing at the path leading away from their tent. “With Neteyam and Lo’ak, it’s easy. I tell ‘em what to do and they—”
Neytiri took a seat next to him, gathering their hands together. “Suffer just the same.” Jake was about to brush her off, but she didn’t relent. “What you’re doing is hurting them.”
This now was about all of their children rather than you, specifically. Neytiri was trying to get him to see the bigger picture first before moving to cover what he did wrong with each child of his, they had had this conversation countless times before.
Here we go again, Jake thought.
“Doesn’t matter if that’s what it takes to keep them safe.”
“Does it?” Neytiri leaned in, and calmness washed over him despite the disturbing nature of what she was saying. “Does it keep them safe? Or push them to act out more, get in worse situations?”
He grimaced. “I have to—”
“You feel like you have to.” His mate shook their clasped hands, rattling his bones. “I keep my children safe with trust and honesty. Transparence, Ma’Jake. So that they listen to me when I mean it because they See me. You shut them out.” Her lips bared to show her pearly teeth as she was practically beseeching him. “You don’t get your children’s trust by treating them like a squad.”
“They trust me plenty.”
“They trust Olo’eyktan. Toruk Makto. What about their father?”
“I make sure they’re safe.” Neytiri dropped his hands with an agitated snarl, she thought they were back at the beginning again, he couldn’t make her truly understand no matter what he did. He poured his heart out through their tsaheylu everytime, but her values and beliefs were wired so differently from his at the end of the day. “I make sure they stay where I want them to stay for their own good.” Jake shook his head, his voice soft, hushed. No force behind it when Neytiri was heated in return. “One day they’ll understand.”
“They won’t if you never tell them.”
“Tell them what?” Jake asked. “That I’m being harsh on them to prepare them for war? You think they’ll take it seriously after this?”
“Na’vi were in war long before you. There will be wars after you. No parent sullied his child’s happiness for the price of becoming a warrior. You still don’t get our ways even after all these years.”
“The sky people’s way,” Jake emphasized with his arms. “I have to teach them how they think, what they go through, so they know what they’ll be facing, okay? I can’t simply teach them by telling them.”
“You’re deluding yourself, Jake. Contradicting.” Neytiri was gentle in her cruelty, the flickering flames burned less than her amber eyes. “Tuk and Kiri are getting none of this. I know your heart isn’t allowing you. Why can’t you do the same for your other children?”
Because he had gone too far already with the older three.
Trial and error.
He couldn’t take back the things he did and say back — and quite honestly? Jake was being pulled from all sides to sit down and rethink his parenting. All he thought anymore was how to protect his family, frequent nightmares of losing his children in gruesome ways were haunting his every step.
A father protects his children, that’s what gives him meaning.
Jake had his own desperate ways to do so.
He opened his mouth to say something back, anything, but was interrupted by the communication line coming on. “Dad.”
Jake immediately knew something was wrong, body sitting ramrod straight. If the frantic breathing and barely controlled voice wasn’t any indication of it, his eldest’s behavior was. Neteyam didn’t slip up in the codenames like Lo’ak did, dropped all formalities only when he was borderline panicking.
“Dad. I’m sorry, dad, sir, I can’t find her, dad, I’ve looked everywhere around here, I thought maybe she was hiding underwater, behind rocks—but I can’t, I can’t—.”
“Slow down.” Jake could barely contain his own panic rising from the state his son was in. The boy wasn’t able to see it, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in as if Neteyam was right in front of him, and started gesturing with his hand. “Slow down, son.”
“Dad—”
Jake tsk-ed. “Neteyam, slow. Slow.”
Neytiri took his elbow. “What is it?”
He told her to wait with his gaze, and turned his attention back to Neteyam. This could only mean one thing, he was praying to be wrong — needed clarification. “Now tell me calmer. What’s going on?”
“She’s never been here. She never came here in the first place. There’s no sign of her. No trace. I’ve tracked.”
Jake’s instant response was fear. Domineering, ice-cold, cutting fear. Bodily and emotionally both. You were clockwork, similar to him in having unchanging routines and patterns. Angry? Went for a walk. Depressed? No talking to anyone until it passed. Happy? Wanted to go to the forest to spend time with your siblings and always craved sweet fruit. Didn’t want to be around anyone? Hid in the little bioluminescent cove with a pond two little mountains away, always. Always.
Neytiri sensed this, observing the change of demeanor in him.“Ma’Jake?”
“Okay, son.” He seized back control. One missing child was enough. “Stay right there and don’t move. I’ll contact you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Jake,” Neytiri hissed finally, at the end of her ropes.
“She didn’t go to the cove,” he said, face icy neutral as always, but his eyes showed dizzying concern. Neytiri put a hand on her mouth as Jake wasted no time in changing channels. “Night Owl, this is Devil Dog. Come in.” He couldn’t even wait two seconds before trying again. “Night Owl, what is your status? Where are you?”
Silence.
The more fear dug deeper into his skin, the more his anger and annoyance soared up, his tail was whipping the air erratically, the finger on the earpiece could send the metal right into his brain with how hard he was pressing on it. “I know you can hear me. This is no time for playing games. You know what you did to your brother? Do you know how panicked he was, not being able to find you—”
Then Jake remembered what Neytiri advised, he didn’t change strategies because she was right next to him to dig his eyes out, but because his heart was picking up its pace by the second. “Tell me where you are, I’ll leave you alone, I promise, alright? If you’re somewhere open, get to safety, I’m only asking this from you. Or else—”
“Don’t.” Neytiri raised a warning finger at him, voice just above a whisper so they could hear their daughter if she decided to cut in. “Threaten her.”
He couldn’t stop her from snatching the communication device off of him. “Ma’ite, it’s mom. Can you talk to me at least?”
His ears twitched at picking up on you responding, not quite making out the words.
Jake’s eyes shut close for a long time as his whole eyebrow line migrated upwards, he physically had to get a few steps between him and the earpiece so the obliviating worry that’d almost blinded him wouldn’t cause him to say something he’d greatly regret later. He could feel himself deflating. A migraine could be coming anytime soon.
You wouldn’t even acknowledge his existence but the moment your mother interrupted, you did? Fine. Fine. He didn’t care. Jake could live with it. At least you were alive.
A rippling shudder shook him the moment that thought hit him, an image of you lying dead in a ditch, pale blue, flashing in his mind, he had to run a hand down his face.
When Jake looked back, irked by the silence, he found Neytiri standing completely stock-still. And all of a sudden, her petrifying glare was on him, ears pinned all the way back, hands gradually starting to tremble.
“Neytiri?”
She wordlessly handed him the device, and with a deep frown, Jake put it back in his ear.
“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”
And the ground disappeared right under Jake’s feet, plunging him into hell itself.
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#dad!jake x daughter!reader#dad!jake sully x reader#jake sully x reader#jake sully x daughter!reader#dad!jake sully x daughter!reader#sully family x reader#mom!neytiri x reader#neteyam x sister!reader#neytiri x daughter!reader#lo'ak x sister!reader#kiri x sister!reader#irma: 📝#📖: light
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Sing the Body
pairing: robert ‘bob’ floyd x afab!reader
summary: the idea didn't seem that hard, him eating you out while you read him poetry. what you didn't realize was he meant I Sing the Body Electric by Walt Whitman. now your professor was between your legs as you tried to read nine long verses of the most intimate poetry.
wc: 3.9k
warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, pet name (dove), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, bob fucks.
a/n: finally, more poetry professor bob.
“And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul.”
The last word ended with a moan, the sound filling the space around you. It egged Bob on, pushed him to lick a stripe up your slit. Tongue tracing every part it could, swirling and flicking against your clit while keeping you tightly to him. Strong arms were wrapped around your thighs to hold you in place. His glasses were slightly askew as he watched you from below. He was currently on his knees worshiping you while you sat on the edge of his desk.
“Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves?” Your mind was swimming, eyes struggling to figure out the words on the page.
The pleasure was so much, making it too hard to focus. But you had to, if not he wouldn’t let you come and send you away with the promise to not touch you for a week. That was your punishment, his as well. This little game of cat and mouse was becoming more exciting the longer it lasted. The cat had finally trapped the mouse, but he had always loved playing with his food before consuming it.
“And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead? And if the body does not do fully as much as the soul? And if the body were not the soul, what is the soul?” You let the book rest against your chest. Shaky breaths passed your lips as you watched Bob give one earnest lick to your clit before pulling back to place a kiss on your thigh.
“So good for me, dove,” he whispered, then nipping at your skin lightly, “got through that verse with no problem.”
You nodded then picked the book back up when he motioned to it. He pressed a kiss to your thigh right before you started verse two. His tongue traced down the inside of your thigh back to your aching cunt, licking a big stripe from your entrance to your clit. A shiver ran through you as he started back up again, pleasure flaring up again.
“The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself balks account, That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect.” A gasp escaped your lips as Bob sucked harshly on your clit at the last word. Your abdomen clenched tightly, but you kept up with the words. “The expression of the face balks account, But the expression of a well-made man appears not only in his face, It is in his limbs and joints also, it is curiously in the joints of his hips and wrists, It is in his walk, the carriage of his neck, the flex of his waist and knees, dress does not hide him.”
A shudder ran through you as he flicked fervently against your clit. Your hand that was planted on the desk to balance you moved to his hair. Your fingers threaded through his soft locks as your body curled forward. A tightness was forming along your shoulder blades. Your eyes were shut tight, your hand holding the book had a similarly tight grip on the book. When you finally opened your eyes and looked down you were stunned. Bob’s head was tilted back slightly, mouth open with his tongue hanging out and still working against you.
Silent noises were coming from you, your facial expressions being the only telling sign of them. Seeing Bob like that was mind numbing, making you wonder how you were going to get through the rest of the poem. Your abdomen already felt impossibly tight, how could you handle eight more verses. You let your fingers loosen from his hair, moving back to your original position but laying on your back this time. This was going to be the easiest way to focus, or at least the easiest to focus on the words you were supposed to be reading.
“The strong sweet quality he has strikes through the cotton and broadcloth, To see him pass conveys as much as the best poem, perhaps more,” a shock of pleasure ran up your spine, making it bow lightly, “You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side.”
“The sprawl and fulness of babes, the bosoms and heads of women, the folds of their dress, their style as we pass in the street, the contour of their shape downwards,” Bob started sucking a little harshly. You felt one of his hands disappear from your thighs, only to reappear between your legs. He replaced his mouth with his fingers momentarily as you continued, “The swimmer naked in the swimming-bath, seen as he swims through the transparent green-shine, or lies with his face up and rolls silently to and fro in the heave of the water.”
“The bending forward and backward of rowers in row-boats, the horseman in his saddle, Girls, mothers, house-keepers, in all their performances,” Bob said the next two lines from memory, watching as you peaked down at him.
“God, you’re impeccable,” Bob whispered into where your inner thigh met your pubic bone. With that he was diving back into you, tongue licking slowly at your clit. This time his fingers wandered lower, one circling your entrance.
“The group, group of laborers,” you couldn’t help your sudden stutter as Bob sunk one finger inside of you, “seated at noon-time with, with their open dinner-kettles, and their wives waiting, The female soothing a child, the far-farmer’s daughter in the garden or cow-yard, The young fellow hoeing corn, the sleigh-driver driving his six horses through the crowd.” You had to pause, you knew that if you kept going you were going to come. You had to take a minute to compose yourself.
Bob hadn’t said anything about entering you, fingers or cock. He had only said he wanted to eat you like a starved man. Someone who hadn’t felt a touch for years. A man who merely dreamt of the day he could worship you again. Provide all the pleasures of the world to you, letting you know he would never leave you again. Conveying that the yearning within him was real, and so much more than that.
“The wrestle of wrestlers, two apprentice-boys, quite grown, lusty, good-natured, native-born, out on the vacant lot at sun-down after work,” one of his fingers pressed into you, eliciting a moan from you in between lines. “The coats and caps thrown down, the embrace of love and resistance, The upper-hold and under-hold, the hair rumpled over and blinding the eyes.”
During the last sentence Bob brought his free hand up to your side. A soft squeeze that reminded you that even though he was deep between your legs, enjoying every sound you had to give him, he was still here for you and all you had to do was say if it was too much. Even though you were starting to question if you could get through all nine verses of the poem, you were more than determined to give him what you wanted. That sweet, sweet man who has risked everything for you. The least you could give him was to comply with the idea of reading to him while he pleasured you.
“The march of firemen in their own costumes, the play of masculine muscle through clean-setting trowsers and waist-straps,” your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers worked you open, tongue working tirelessly against your clit. “The slow return from the fire, the pause when the bell strikes suddenly again, and the listening on the alert.”
The combination of his fingers pressing against the bundle of nerves inside of you and tongue working over that outer bundle of nerves was pushing you closer to the edge. The flame that was licking at the inside of your abdomen, causing everything to clench up, was hard to stave off. You felt like you’d be consumed by the flame at any moment, it bursting into a full blaze of flames.
“The natural, perfect, varied attitudes, the bent head, the curv’d neck and the counting,” you moved up onto your elbow, letting the book rest onto your chest once more. The urge to look at the way your professor was currently on his knees for you was too strong. It was demanding your attention, as if he himself was forcing you to watch. Your voice was weak and unbalanced when speaking once more. “Such, such-like I love—I loosen myself, pass freely, am at the mother’s breast with the little child.” Moans and sighs punctuated between the words, Bob’s fingers slowly moved inside of you, curling up and pressing against the bundle of nerves again.
“Swim with the swimmers, wrestle with wrestlers, march in line with the firemen, and pause, listen, count.” Bob finished for you, having noticed it was getting harder for you to continue. “You’re doing so well,” Bob whispered as his slick and spit-covered lips pressed onto your thigh.
“Thank you,” you said, watching his eyebrow quirk up. Fuck. “Thank you, Professor Floyd.”
A groan fell from his lips when he heard the title. It should not have made his dick twitch as much as it did, the intense throb driving him nearly mad. The only thing holding his sanity together was the sweet noises you were making, but it felt as if you were also pushing him further into his madness. He knew from the moment this arrangement happened he would be fucked. Literally and metaphorically. It was so wrong, but it felt so fucking good. Who knew that breaking the rules could feel this good?
“I’m not sure if I can finish,” you whimpered, “it’s getting to be too, too much.”
Bob inched up your body, pressing kisses up your clothed upper half. He had thought about begging to completely undress you, but he knew it could be too risky. Yes, it was a Friday night and nobody would be walking near his tucked away office, but the risk was still there. Hestood and leaned up over you, pressed his slick covered lips against yours, and elicited a moan from you. His own clothed chest was barely grazing the binding of the book resting on yours.
“You can, little dove, I know you can,” he pressed his forehead to yours then brought his free hand to your face. Knuckles softly ghosted over your cheek and jaw. He could tell from the way you were squeezing around his fingers that you were close, had been for awhile. It must have been hard to hold back for so long. He pressed his thumb to your sensitive clit, rubbing rhythmic circles against you.
“Help.” It was the only word you could get out. You hadn’t planned on asking for help when this started. Bob had offered it, but your pride had got the best of you. But now it seemed like the only way to complete all nine verses of the poem.
“Help?” The thumb on your clit stopped. Bob held back a deep groan, his cock twitching in his pants. You were asking him for help, the thing you had so vehemently denied at the beginning. Both of his hands cupped your face, slick covered fingers wet against your cheek.
“Please,” the whimper wasn’t intentional, but you knew it’d make him break.
“Of course,” he grabbed your jaw and tilted it up, forcing your lips to meet his. “Can I fill you up?”
A moan escaped you, his words fueling the bonfire deep within your abdomen. The thought of his cock filling you to the brim while reciting a poem so intimate. If someone had told you that this, your poetry professor asking to put his cock in you, would happen to you, you would have laughed. The very idea was something out of a book, but yet here you were, actually experiencing it.
“Yes,” you wrapped one arm around his shoulders to pull him closer.
Your lips smashed together once more, moaning at the taste of your slick on his tongue again. He removed the book from your chest, throwing it somewhere behind you on the desk. The warmth of his touch was then cascading down your sides, giving an occasional squeeze to your covered flesh. They ghosted over the skin of your uncovered hips, only to trail up your outer thighs, then down the backs of them. When the kiss broke, you looked down to watch his hands move from your thighs to his slacks. Bob’s eyes were trained to your face, watching you watch his hands. His fingers worked diligently to undo his slacks, pushing those and his boxers down just enough to reveal his cock.
You would never get tired of seeing his cock. It was gorgeous, pretty even. The way it felt inside of you, pulsing and stretching, always had you coming so quickly. You shifted your weight slightly, moving the arm holding you up down to grab his cock. A muffled groan graced your ears, which urged you to stroke his cock a little more.
“I knew a man, a common farmer, the father of five sons, And in them the fathers of sons, and in them the fathers of sons,” Bob started the poem again, trying to not lose the objective of this rendezvous.
“This man was of wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty of person.” It was easier to recite now that you weren’t the one having your mind completely clouded with pleasure. “The shape of his head, the pale yellow and white of his hair and beard, the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes, the richness and breadth of his manners.” Your strokes started to quicken, a part of you wanting to make him struggle the way you had earlier.
“These I used to go and visit him to see, he was wise also,” Bob’s hands gripped your hips as he pressed his forehead to yours. “He was six feet tall, he was over eighty years old, his sons were massive, clean, bearded, tan-faced, handsome,” his voice was starting to waver slightly, taking more time for each section he recited.
“They and his daughters loved him,” you slowed your strokes and spoke precisely, “all who saw him loved him, They did not love him by allowance, they loved him with personal love,” you squeezed your hand lightly around the head of his cock, a gasp passing Bob’s lips. “He drank water only, the blood show’d like scarlet through the clear-brown skin of his face,” your gaze locked with Bob’s, his glasses still askew. “He was a frequent gunner and fisher, he sail’d his boat himself, he had a fine one presented to him by a ship-joiner, he had fowling-pieces presented to him by men that loved him.”
“When he went with his five sons and many grand-sons to hunt or fish,” he slowly started to thrust into your hand, “you would pick him out as the most beautiful and vigorous of the gang.”
“You would wish long and long to be with him, you would wish to sit by him in the boat that you and he might touch each other.”
With the last line you loosened your hand from his cock. A shuddering breath left him, giving you a surge of confidence. You pressed your lips to his neck, running your tongue along his salty skin. As you paid attention to his neck and ran your fingers up through his hair, he was adjusting you on his desk. His grip was firm on your hips, scooting you a tiny bit closer to the edge. It suddenly felt like your ass was hanging off of the desk, making you pull back in concern.
“I have you, don’t worry,” Bob whispered.
One of his hands left your hips, moving to grip the base of his cock. He adjusted between your legs, assuming a tall and stable stature. The head of his cock pushed through your folds and rubbed against your clit. Moans were lightly falling from your lips, whines accenting them every now and then.
“I have perceiv’d that to be with those I like is enough,” Bob was the one to start the next verse. “To stop in company with the rest at evening is enough,” a groan escaped him briefly, “To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough.”
On the last word you felt him against your entrance, teasing you. Those sea blue eyes locked with yours, telling you everything that you needed to know.
“To pass among them or touch any one, or rest my arm ever so lightly round his or her neck for a moment, what is this then? I do not ask any more delight, I swim in it as in a sea.”
The gaze never broke as he started to press into you. The stretch of his cock felt amazing, pushing almost all the air from your lungs. No matter how many times he had fucked you, you would never fully get used to his size, his girth.
“There is something in staying close to men and women and looking on them, and in the contact and odor of them, that pleases the soul well.”
The words of the poem were becoming more and more real. It felt as if the poem was describing the two of you currently, encapsulating the essence of your sensations and pleasures. That flame that had been consuming you, engulfing the both of you. You went to continue, say the last line, but Bob was finishing it for you with a single deep thrust into you.
“All things please the soul, but these please the soul well.”
A shudder of pleasure rushed through you as he continued into the next verse.
“This is the female form,” one of his hands traced up your side, “A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot, It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction.” He refused to move within you, cock stuffed deep as he spoke. “I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor, all falls aside but myself and it,” he leaned forward, lips close to your ear now.
“Books, art, religion, time, the visible and solid earth,” his voice was barely a whisper, “and what was expected of heaven or fear’d of hell, are now consumed.”
His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Your body flexed around him, feeling the hard length filling you. Hot breath coated your ear, a soft groan flooded your hearing. His groan made you clench around him again, holding him like a vice. Bob’s left hand moved up your body, gripped your jaw, and turned your face to look at him. There was this feral look in his eyes, one you didn’t see that often from him. You could only recall two other times you had seen it. His lips parted, tongue darting over them.
“Mad filaments, ungovernable shoots play out of it, the response likewise ungovernable,” his eyes darted to your lips, only to flick back up to your eyes. His right hand started to move over your body, kneading at the flesh of your torso and thighs. “Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands all diffused, mine too diffused.”
The words were being spoken into you, giving you a new meaning to life. A new meaning of intimacy. Fingertips were digging into the bare flesh of your thighs, pressing your leg tightly to his side. His hips were pressed just as tightly to yours. The opening of his pants were most likely going to leave an imprint on your ass, but you didn’t care. Almost even looked forward to it.
“Ebb stung by the flow and flow stung by the ebb, love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching,” he shifted his hips slightly, pressing harder against you. “Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous, quivering jelly of love,” his hand left your thigh and moved to the apex of your legs, “white-blow and delirious juice,” his fingers moved to the spot where you two were joined.
A moan left you when you felt it, his fingers touching your stretched hole. You could feel his fingers gather some of your slick, using it to rub your clit. You clenched around him, the tightness in your abdomen returned quickly. All you could do was stare into his eyes, his gaze unwavering.
“Bridegroom night of love working surely and softly into the prostrate dawn,” he was drawing perfect circles on your clit, “Undulating into the willing and yielding day, Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh’d day.”
Fire was coursing through your veins, pleasure licking at all of your insides. The circling of his fingers and stretch of his cock was getting to be too much. It was all becoming too much, the way his words were mixing with his movements.
“Professor,” it came out as a whimper, “I can’t.”
“It’s okay, I know,” he reassured. He knew you were close, could feel it by the way your cunt was gripping his cock.
“But I we agreed tha-”
“Don’t worry, dove, I want to feel it, feel you let go.”
He pressed his forehead to yours, reassuring you that it was okay. Bob knew there was a chance that neither of you would be able to complete the task at hand. Even though he had placed a consequence in place, he knew deep in his heart he could never follow through with it. The way you were clawing at him, clutching onto every aspect of him, it was driving him mad like it always did. Ever since your first time together he knew he was a goner.
The tightness in your abdomen snapped quickly, a flame licking at all your organs while pleasure was coursing through you. You curled in on Bob while you came, clutching him as if your life depended on it. While you were coming Bob started moving, thrusting lightly into you to keep your orgasm moving through you. Both of his hands landed on your hips, gripping them tightly. The noises coming from you were spurring Bob on, wanting to keep your orgasm going. His thrusts were becoming stronger and harder. That’s when you felt it, again.
“Oh, fuck!”
It felt like another orgasm hit you, making your legs quake against Bob’s sides. Bob’s movements stilled, balls deep inside of you. A shudder passed through his body, one that felt almost like your own. A warmth filled you up, his cum covering your insides. Bob moved his head to your shoulder, trying to catch his breath as you both started to come down. You brought one of your hands up to the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing and playing with the outgrown ends of his hair.
There was a small guilty feeling starting to creep up inside of you. You had started this with a large ego, boasting about how easy it would have been. But now here you were slumped against him, out of breath with a blank mind. All you could do was touch his hair and try to get your breath synced with his. You thought about the punishment that was now to come.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his hair.
Bob pulled back from your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before speaking.
“Don’t be, we can try again another time,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
Excitement filled you. The thought of hearing all these words again, him reminding you of the way you made him feel. A smile pulled at your lips as you thought about it more. God, you were truly smitten for your professor.
#robert bob floyd#bob floyd#bob floyd smut#bob floyd imagine#bob fucks#bob floyd x you#bob floyd x reader#poetry professor!bob floyd#bob floyd fanfiction#top gun maverick#top gun maverick fanfiction#top gun fanfiction#tgm fanfiction
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I just need more of Leon pleasing the reader who has an oral fixation on him, but at the same time she wants to tease him <3
MDNI/18+. NSFW.
Heard you loud and clear anon. As someone who has an oral fixation (I realized this since I have a tongue piercing and I’m often fucking with it when I’m bored), it would be entertaining to mess around with Leon knowing you have one.
You’d usually have something in your mouth, like gum or candy that you’d chew on because it’s the easiest thing you have access to. Other times, you’ll have a lollipop and suck on it, taking it out with an audible pop. You’re discrete with it not so much of a show off when you’re alone, but whenever you’re near Leon you’re more obvious with your antics. Circling your tongue around it, you happily licked at the little treat, knowing Leon was giving you the side eye and trying to act like he wasn’t watching.
When you two were alone, your oral fixation was a lot worse. It kicked in when you were near Leon, more clingy than anything. He didn’t mind, of course, he secretly enjoyed seeing you trying to climb or cling on to him when he was home. You’d be cuddling together while you were on his chest and his hand cradled your face, thumb rubbing on your cheek as you both put something on the TV to enjoy. You’re more focused on the feel of his fingers on your face than paying attention to the movie that’s playing, your mouth watering at the thought of getting more.
Bringing your lips closer toward his thumb, you kissed the digit softly, humming at the sensation of his skin against yours. You continued to smooch his finger, the movie long forgotten as you remained focused on one thing. Lifting your head from where it rested on Leon’s chest, you noticed that he was glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you even watching the movie?”, it was a stupid question really, and you knew he was already in tune with this game of yours.
“Got bored”, you shrugged at him, nipping at his thumb and releasing an airy laugh. Leon kept you pinned against his hips, chuckling when you gave his finger a playful bite.
“Need your mouth occupied?”, he asked as he pressed the tip of his finger against your bottom lip, pulling on it gently until it popped back into place. Your grin only widened, nodding at him and giving his finger another nip.
Leon was always happy to please you, slipping his thumb into your mouth and gently pressing it against your tongue. The weight of his finger was comforting more than anything, making you moan contentedly at the way it felt. You suck at his finger absentmindedly, your mind growing hazy and distant the more you suckled. He doesn’t stop you, placing your head on his chest and letting you get your fill unless you said otherwise.
It doesn’t just stop at his thumb, if your fixation gets really bad he’ll replace his thumb with his cock, letting you suck him off however you chose. You don’t focus too much on actually working your mouth over him in the beginning, instead, you wrap yourself around him and let the comforting weight of his length rest on your tongue. Leon can keep watching the movie, you’ll keep him nicely pressed against the side of your cheek as he swelled. The more he grew, the more he took up space in your mouth, and once you felt him poke the back of your throat, you craved to taste him properly.
You start to bob your head enthusiastically, keeping an even pace and audibly slurping him up. Leon just lets you do it, and allows you to get him all slick and messy for as long as you want, even after he spills down your throat with a groan. You give yourself some breathing room before putting his softening cock back into your mouth, not ready to part with him just yet. You start the cycle of your teasing all over again, and Leon doesn’t mind, more than happy to meet your needs.
#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy#leon scott kennedy#leon s kennedy#resident evil#resident evil leon kennedy#resident evil x reader#ovaryacted asks
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Shine A Light Into The Wreckage
Chapter One - Spilled Coffee
Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook.
He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.
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Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive slight choking! Forceful sex! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this
Okay so one day I was reading Stiff Competition by @roosterforme and the next day I was writing this and I haven't stopped since
Series Masterlist
Bob Floyd was a coffee man. It had started at the end of high school, when he used to wake up early to study. It continued on when he joined the navy.
Through his first stint in Top Gun, Bob would go on regular coffee runs. They took it in turns, always going on their own and challenging each other to carry as many coffees as possible.
It was a habit that Bob had kicked after Top Gun. He knew it was a bad habit, relying on coffee to wake up. So, he stopped.
But then he was once again at Top Gun. After graduating once, he was back again. And, once again, the coffee runs restarted. Bob redeveloped his habit for a cappuccino with chocolate sprinkles on the top. From the first sip, he couldn't remember why he had given it up.
Even after that mission, Bob stayed in California. The man from Montana stayed at Top Gun, becoming an instructor, along with Natasha Trace and Jake Seresin. Rooster returned to Virginia, said he had a girl out there. The rest of the squad returned home or were stationed overseas. It wasn't the easiest to keep up with.
The coffee runs continued. This time, with just himself, Nat, and Jake, the coffee runs were a lot easier. Especially when the barista put the takeaway cups with one of those cup holders meant for four.
The coffee runs changed every day. One day Nat would go. And then Jake would. And then Bob. Always one at a time, always in that order.
Whenever Bob was on the coffee run, he looked around the café. His eyes moved from table to table, looking at the people sat there. An older couple drinking coffees by the large window, a teenager eating a sandwich with headphones covering his eyes and people on their lunch break. One at the back of the café tapped away at her computer keyboard, periodically taking a break to sip at her drink. The other sat at the table by the door, her bag on the other seat as she scribbled away in her notebook, a full mug of coffee beside it.
Bob didn't make any other observations as he collected his coffee and turned to leave. He had both hands on the cup holder as he turned to leave the café.
He wasn’t clumsy. Well, he sort of was. Making a mess at the hard deck while ate peanuts, that time he accidentally hit Bradley in the stomach with the pool cue.
But Bob couldn’t deny his clumsiness when he hit the edge of her table. Maybe if his hands weren’t full, he could have caught her drink before it fell over.
A gasp left her lips as it spilled over her notebook, staining the pages brown. The writing on it was indistinguishable beneath the coffee.
But that wasn't what this young woman cared about, not at first. She stood as she furiously wiped off her pencil skirt. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He cried, grabbing the napkin that sat under her glass. But the napkin was already soiled.
Bob jumped into action. He put his coffees down onto her table and rushed to grab the napkin dispenser from the counter. "I'm so sorry!" He cried, grabbing napkins and helping her to wipe off her skirt.
But when the water stopped scalding, she stopped wiping at her skirt. Instead she dabbed the napkins at her notebook as a frustrated sigh left her lips. "Let me get you another drink," he said as he threw the used napkins in the bin.
She shook her head at him. "No, I've got to get back to work," she muttered as she picked up her bag. She slung it over her shoulder and tucked her ruined notebook beneath her arm.
"I'm sorry!" Bob called as he watched her disappear from the café.
***
She sat at her desk, inspecting the darker grey patch on her skirt. It had been new, bought just the weekend before. But she didn’t much care about her skirt. That could be replaced. Sure, she'd have to take out money she didn’t have for a new one, but it was just a skirt.
Her notebook was in front of her computer, months of work stained with coffee. The coffee had smudged her writing, making it unintelligible. It wasn't just the top pages, wasn’t just her most recent piece of writing. It was everything.
Almost all of her writing was gone.
Frustration ran through her. Frustration and then sadness. She couldn’t bring herself to be angry at the military man. It hadn't been his fault, really.
But her writing was gone. It was months, years, of work. Her only way of escape and, within a matter of seconds, it was gone.
As she sat through her shift, she tried to salvage what she could, making notes of the plot points she could remember. Tomorrow, when she went to the café, she could rebuild. This time she could spend all day there, not needing to run off to her job.
It wasn’t easy to concentrate on her day job as she wrote down what little she could remember from her stories. But, too soon her day job was over. She still didn’t put her sopping wet, coffee stained notebook in her bag as she got ready to go. "See you Monday," she said to one of her co-worker as she pulled her jacket over her blouse and placed her bag on her shoulder.
With her notebook on her arm, she took off. She looked down at her shoes as she rode the elevator down to the ground floor of the building she worked in.
The elevator arrived at the ground floor far too quickly. She sucked in a breath, held her notebook against her chest and walked out of the building. Each step she took was heavy, as if her feet were reluctant to take her home.
But her apartment building was far too close to her place of work. She opened the door and started up the dimly lit staircase, up to the top floor. Around her the yellow wallpaper was cracked and peeling.
She missed the step ready to collapse in on itself and avoided the suspicious damp patch on the carpeted top of the stairs and pushed open the door to her apartment.
"Hey, Ken," she said to her boyfriend, the man she shared her apartment with. Kenneth Johnson hadn't been called Kenneth since he was a boy. He went by Kenny to his friends or more importantly, Ken.
She placed her notebook on the sofa, her bag on top of it, and hung her jacket on the back of the door.
"Hey, Barbie," he said in a way she hated. It had been a joke back in high school - his name was Ken so, obviously, she was Barbie. "I cooked you dinner."
*SERIOUSLY IF YOU'RE AFFECTED BY ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIPS I'D STOP READING HERE*
She looked at the small, round table in the middle of their kitchen. 'Cooked' wasn’t exactly the word she would have used to describe the half eaten microwave dinner on the table. "Ken, where's the rest of it?" She asked, her voice light. Almost as if she was talking to child.
The smile dropped from his face as he yanked open the fridge. "Can't you just be grateful, for once?" He growled as he opened his can of something (she didn’t look up, didn't see what he was drinking as she ate what he had left of her dinner). "I make you dinner and you just want more of it."
She ate in silence, finishing her food quickly. When she was done, she cleaned both hers and Ken's plate away.
As soon as she was standing up and walking to the sink, Ken looked at her up and down. "What the fuck happened to the skirt I just bought for you?" He asked as he clenched his can. His grip was so tight his can crumpled, liquid spilling everywhere.
"C'mon Ken. It was just a little spill. It's gonna wash out before Monday."
The still full can clattered to the floor, spilling beer everywhere. "It doesn't matter that it will wash out," he said, keeping his voice calm. "What matters is that you're pissing away my hard earned cash!"
"Ken-"
Suddenly he was in her face, fingers wrapping around her hair and pulling her up. An involuntary cry left her lips and she dropped the dishes back into the sink. "Don't talk back to me," he growled, voice low. His hand snaked around her throat, but he didn't apply pressure. Not yet. "Don't ever talk back to me."
Gulping, she nodded as best she could with the way he held her. And then he let go of her hair, but he didn’t release her neck. "You know I hate doing that, baby," he whispered, stroking her cheek. It didn’t matter how gentle his touch was, it was still searing.
There was nothing she could do but whimper as he walked her out of the kitchen, leaving the mess of the dishes and the spilt beer.
She walked willingly to the bedroom. But really, how willing is it when you fear so much for your safety?
When Ken told her to strip and get onto the bed, she did just that. "Throw this out, I can’t have you looking like a slob," he said as she stepped out of her skirt.
"Kenny," she started to say. But, suddenly she was on the bed, laying on her stomach. "Ken, please-"
But Kenneth Johnson wasn't listening to what his girlfriend had to say. He held her body down, hand on the back of her neck as he pulled her underwear down.
He freed himself from his trousers and pushed his cock through her folds.
There was a time where they weren't like this, a time where they really were in love. Back in high school, back when she didn't mind being Barbie and Ken, he was sweet. He brought flowers and chocolates to her while she worked weekends. He visited her regularly when she went out of state for college and moved with her to San Diego.
It was a few months after they moved to San Diego together that Ken changed. It was a few months after they moved in together that his true colours began showing.
She didn't cry anymore. There was no point when it didn't get him to stop.
She laid there until he came and rolled off of her. Kenny laid in the bed and rolled away from her. Still, she didn’t move. She stayed until light snores left his lips.
Only then did she climb off of the bed. She climbed into the shower that hadn't yet heated up and scrubbed her body. Hidden in an empty tub of body lotion was birth control. Birth control that Kenny wouldn't let her take. But she couldn’t have his baby, she just couldn't.
After cleaning up the mess left in the kitchen and scrubbing at the stain in her shirt, she crawled into bed beside him, but she didn't sleep.
#bob floyd#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd fluff#bob floyd smut#bob floyd x you#robert floyd#robert floyd imagine#robert floyd x reader#robert floyd fluff#robert floyd smut#robert floyd x you#top gun#top gun maverick#top gun bob#top gun fanfiction
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jealous - s.mg
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boyfriend!mingi x jealous!reader
genre: smut (below the cut)
warnings: oral (m. receiving), mentions of spit, face fucking
watching your boyfriend work out was making you sweat. his bare torso out, just asking for attention from any female who walks into the gym. you had to admit, you were getting slightly jealous since you noticed two very fit and pretty girls were working out directly next to him, obviously showing off.
"mingi" you say just loud enough for him to hear.
his face turns to you, his eyebrows raising "yeah" he holds his push up position, making it look as if its is the easiest thing ever.
"can you put a shirt on" your eyes rolling slightly.
"why" he ask, very obviously entertained by the request "jealous?" he ask smirking slightly.
"forget it" you mumble, sitting back against the wall. you finished your workout already and ended up having to wait for mingi to finish his.
he grabs his shirt from the ground and walks over to you while pulling it on over his head.
"happy" he ask, bending down, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.
you grunt slightly, still trying to act annoyed.
"have it your way" he says huffing out air, going back to finishing his work out.
he didnt necessarily like when you were jealous, but it did give him a reason to show you just how perfect you were for him, no one else.
-
"come on, you can take it baby" mingi coos, running a thumb under your eye, wiping away the tears that escaped.
your lips wrapped around his cock, your nose brushing against his pelvic bone, you felt yourself gag around it, a soft groan coming from mingi. his hand pulls you off his cock giving you some air.
"so pretty like this arent you" he murmurs looking down at you, spit covering your chin, your eyes having a red tint on them. your shirt pulled up so mingi can see 'his pretty tits' just how he likes it.
your mouth opens taking him back into your mouth, moans falling from his lips as your head bobs up and down on his cock. his hand bunching up your hair that fell out of its pony tail long ago.
"god you're fucking made for me" he groans out, tilting your head back slightly, pulling your head up some, leaving you to suck on his tip. your tongue swirling around it, adding to his pleasure "ugh.. fuck baby" his head leans back, his hips thrusting forward. you help your mouth open allowing him to fuck into it, again, just how he likes.
his hands hold the back of your head, his eyes looking down to meet yours, tears threatening to spill over again from his tip hitting the back of your throat repeatedly. his lip gets pulled between his teeth, grunts heard from his throat. his mouth drops open as you wrap your lips around him again, sucking him in further.
you're nose met his his pelvic bone again, a quiet whimper escaping from him.
"cumming-" he whispers out, you're met with his arousal coating your throat so nicely, instantly swallowing what you can, the rest dripping onto your chin along with the spit.
he pulls you off of his cock again, his breaths heavy.
"so perfect for me arent you" he mumbles the spit combination off your chin with his thumb pushing it onto your tongue.
masterlist
#beatteez#ateez#ateez imagines#ateez drabbles#ateez smut#kpop smut#smut#18+ content#18+#song mingi#mingi#song mingi imagines#song mingi imagine#mingi imagines#ateez mingi#song mingi smut#mingi smut#song mingi drabble#mingi drabble
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warmth, good food, orgasms (microfic)
inspired by Ed's three main reasons to live. enjoy! (I put it on ao3 too for good measure) M-rated, 319 words
⁕⁕⁕
Warmth.
The logs crackle in the fireplace. Golden light dances over the ceiling, the walls, the furniture. Heats Ed’s naked skin.
Good food.
Empty plates and cutlery abandoned on the table. That really was a great meal, though.
Orgasms.
Ed is heaving for breath as he swims back to the surface of reality. Glad he kept those fur rugs, nice and soft under his back.
Stede ducks his head out from under the rather exquisite cashmere blanket that Ed could never make himself throw away. Ed’s fingers tangled in golden curls. Stede’s smile brighter than the firelight.
He sounds a bit funny when he talks, though. Mouth full.
“Hwhat do I do with hthis? Shwallow, or—shpit somewhere?”
Before Ed can answer, Stede makes his decision. Lips pressed together, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.
“Seems the easiest solution.” The aftertaste makes Stede’s face go on a journey. He licks his lips. “Not bad, actually. Rather salt—oumph!”
Ed pulls him into a kiss. Stede hums into it and shuffles up to lie properly on top of Ed. Broad, solid body pressing him into the furs. Golden hues everywhere. Time dragging at an infinite pace.
Stede’s lips are flushed, his smile warm and excited.
“Did I do it right?”
“Think it’s pretty obvious you did, mate.”
“What next?”
Ed adores him. Brushes a curled strand of hair away from Stede’s forehead. It falls back down immediately. Ed adores him.
“My dick’s pretty done for now, but we can do other stuff.” Gotta finish with the good shit for Stede too. Can’t leave him hanging. Well, standing.
“What would you like?” As if it’s all about what Ed wants.
“We could have a different kind of—erh, intercourse.”
“You want me to fuck you?”
Ed laughs. Feels as if it’s coming from his soul, has traveled with it all the way to hell and back into Stede’s arms.
“Fuck yeah.”
#my fics#ofmd fic#fanfic#ofmd s2 spoilers#i guess#microfic#this was fun i should write short stuff more often
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The Periphery
Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader
Rating: M
Notes: This accidental behemoth is based on this post and part of the lil fic triptych with The Worst Best Man (Jake Hangman Seresin x Reader) @tropes-and-tales Team Prime (Bob Floyd x Reader)
No physical descriptions, no use of y/n. Also not beta-read. Because it never is.
Length: 11.1K
Warnings: Slowburn (i know, shocker); angst (I know, shocker); fluff; happy ending!!
Summary: You’d met Bradley a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.
“Alright, what have we got, what have we gooooot…” Bradley asked, turning the steering wheel and guiding the Bronco onto the avenue.
“Let’s see,” You looked down your checklist. “Candy and labels for the favor bags?”
“Check.”
“Final payment for the florist.”
“Check.”
“Final payment for the cake.”
“Check.”
“Drop off the…Card-thingies for the seating placement at the venue.”
“Place cards?” Bradley chuckled.
“You knew what I meant. Only thing left is putting the favor bags together and we are set.”
“Hell yeah. Up top.”
You glanced over, smile widening when you spotted Bradley holding his hand up. You gave him a high five, chuckling as he crowed, “Boom! Dream team right here.”
You leaned back in your seat, shifting a little bit. Bradley was certainly the easiest person you’d had to work with over the course of this wedding—bride and groom included. You’d met him a few times before the happy couple had announced their nuptials, and you’d always gotten a pretty good vibe from him. He was sweet, he was easy to talk to—and it helped that he was easy on the eyes. In fact, as soon as you’d been told that Bradley Bradshaw was going to be the Best Man, you were well on your way to having a crush on the guy.
“Oh—Shit,” Bradley muttered.
“What is it?” You frowned.
“No, nothing. I need to grab my tux,” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Just remembered.”
“Oh,” You frowned, glancing back as he drove past the shop. “Do you wanna go now?”
“Uh…You sure?” He asked, raising his brows.
“Yeah! The rest of my day’s clear, I don’t mind.”
“You are a lifesaver,” Bradley swore, pulling his car into a parking spot. You waved him off, setting the checklist on the backseat of the car.
“Hang on,” He warned. You frowned, shaking your head, then smiled as he rounded the front of the car, opening the door for you.
“You’re such a gentleman, Bradshaw,” You teased.
“I try.”
He held the door open for you at the shop, too, and you tried not to get too flustered about it. But Bradley really was a gentleman. He’d shown you that repeatedly over the course of wedding prep, checking in periodically to see if you needed help with anything, or just to chat.
He gave his name at the desk, nodding and offering his thanks as the attendant left to get his suit.
“You get your dress yet?” He asked.
“Yep. Picked it up earlier in the week.”
“You are on it. I don’t know how you do it.”
You shrugged, trying to ignore the bubble of flattery rising in your gut. “This isn’t my first wedding.”
“How many times have you been a Maid of Honor?”
“This is the…fourth time?”
“Holy hell.”
“I kinda like it,” You chuckled. “It was stressful the first time but the fourth time around, it’s sort of old hat, you know.”
“Bradshaw?” The attendant called out, waving the two of you deeper into the shop. “If you’ll follow me? We just want to make sure the alterations are all set before we send it out with you.”
You trailed after him, tucking your hands into your pockets, and grinning as he gave you a little wink before ducking into the changing room. You sat down in one of the chairs nearby, scrolling through your phone and shooting a text to Katie, the bride. You frowned as your phone began to ring, and you tapped on Katie’s name, taking the call and raising it to your ear.
“Hey, lady. How are you doing?” You asked.
“I’m okay. Are you guys done, have you gotten everything?”
You tried not to groan at the panicked edge in her voice.
“We have the stuff for the favor bags, we dropped the checks off.”
“Are you putting the bags together today?”
“Not today, but they will be done,” You leaned into the word to stave off her argument, “Before the end of the week, and dropped off to the venue on Friday.”
“Promise?”
“You have my word. Take a deep breath.”
“That Katie?” Bradley called out from behind the curtain.
“Yeah!”
“Tell her we’ll get it done!”
“I did!” You laughed before adding, “Bradley says we’ll get it done, too. ‘Kay?”
“Fine,” She sighed before belatedly tacking on, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow. Call me if you need anything.”
“I will. Thanks, hon.”
“Anytime. Bye.” You lowered your phone, looking down as you heard the curtain being pushed aside. You glanced up, doing a double-take at the sight of him. Your stomach flooded with butterflies at the sight. You bit your lip, gaze sweeping him from head to toe. You’d been to fittings with a few groomsmen in your day, but Bradley looked damn good. The suit fit him like a glove. You stood from where you’d settled down, tucking your phone away and stepping closer, folding your arms across your chest to fight off the urge to reach out and touch. Luckily for you, he hadn’t caught sight of your blatant interest as you hovered in his periphery. He was too busy double-checking his buttons.
“…It fits well,” You offered.
“Yeah?” He asked, glancing back at you. You couldn’t help the way your smile widened as you nodded, allowing yourself to move a couple of steps closer.
“Yeah. Do you like it?”
“Wearing a suit feels a little weird,” He chuckled, turning to look at himself in the mirror. “But I guess it’s good practice.”
“Good practice?” You repeated, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”
“I’m getting married next year. Actually, all of this has been good practice. You’ve been a lot more helpful than you know.”
Your smile stayed frozen in place as your neck went hot, your blood roaring in your ears. It made sense. It made so much sense, and it had no right to hurt, to twist your insides up. You nodded, and dropped your gaze to his left hand, like you could spot where the ring would sit; you wondered what kind, what metal. Engraved? Plain? Gold? Silver? Bradley struck you as the type to have a plain outer band, and an engraving inside—some secret message, or initials, or the date that they met—the date of their wedding anniversary so that he’d never forget, but Bradley wasn’t the type to forget—
“You’re sure it looks alright?”
His question jolted you, made your smile twitch a touch wider out of panic, your eyes bright, attentive, and flickering to his face. Even with your newfound knowledge, your upset, your crushing disappointment—you couldn’t help the softening of your expression at his blatant nerves.
“Yes,” You nodded. “I’m sure.”
–
It was ridiculous, right?
It was ridiculous that it formed a knot in your chest. It was ridiculous that you were so rocked by the revelation that you couldn’t sleep. You needed to do something to get your mind off of what you’d learned; off of the sight of Bradley in that tux, bright and hopeful.
He’d told you all about his fiancé on the drive back to your place. That was sort of your fault. You had asked—but it had seemed rude not to, once you knew that there was someone in the picture. Bradley had told you all about Liz: how they met (she was a friend of his WSO’s), how long they’d been together (six months), how the proposal had gone (she’d been the one to plan it—from the ring, to where he proposed, to the photographer who photographed the occasion, to the party of friends and family that they went to afterward), how the wedding planning was going.
“It’s been a bit of whirlwind, planning-wise…Actually, the whole relationship has been,” He’d shrugged. “And our schedules are nuts. We kinda keep moving the goalposts.”
“On what?”
“…Well, when it’s gonna be, for one.”
His laughing admission had planted a little seed of hope in the nest of dismayed vipers making a home in your belly, but you wouldn’t allow it to take root. It was to be expected. Like he said, their schedules were nuts. But still…
When it’s gonna be.
It rose to the top of mind now and again as you worked on the favors through the night, putting custom labels on the bottles of wine, making sure each bag had a corkscrew, and tying a strip of white ribbon around the neck of the bottle.
When it’s gonna be.
Couldn’t they just elope, if they were so worried about that? Have a proper wedding later, when things were more settled, if it was causing them so much stress? You hadn’t brought that up, of course. It wasn’t any of your business.
When it’s gonna be.
You set the final bottle in the final bag, then dropped the corkscrew inside. You’d already put on the label, and the ribbon. You sighed heavily, looking around your living room. It was crowded with nearly two hundred completed favor bags. How the hell were you going to get them down to your car? Could you even fit all of these in your car? You groaned, leaning back against the couch and scrubbing your hands over your tired eyes.
Maybe you hadn’t only done the favors to keep your mind off of Bradley. Maybe you’d done it to avoid him, too, just a little. Getting them all done yourself meant that you didn’t have to spend an extra couple of hours with him. Sure, it would’ve gone faster with two, but if you wanted this crush to end with the wedding, you needed to start distancing yourself.
It wasn’t the kindest way to deal with the circumstances—and maybe your feelings would ebb, now that you knew there was absolutely no chance of acting on them.
Still, whatever happened, you’d gotten the favors done before the end of the week, as you’d promised Katie.
–
“When should I come by? I can bring pizza or something, we’ll get those favors knocked out before the party.”
It was a sweet offer, because Bradley was a sweet guy. You planted your elbow on your desk, plaintively eyeing your work email before looking around to see if any of your coworkers were listening in.
“Actually, I took care of them,” You admitted. There was a pause on the other end of the phone, and you bit your lip, waiting for his answer.
“You—…All of them?” He finally asked.
“Mhm!” You forced the tone of your hum to be bright and chipper.
“That’s, like…That’s like two hundred bags.”
“One hundred and ninety-seven, but. Close!”
“I could’a helped you.”
You thought that he sounded disappointed, but surely you were reading into it.
“No, I know! I know. I got them done, it was no problem. I had time.”
There was another pause on the other end of the phone, and you found yourself wondering if he was distracted with whatever he was doing on the other end of the line.
“…How long did it take?” He asked.
“A bit? I don’t know. I didn’t time it. It was fine, I was awake.”
“You did them last night?”
“Yes! When else?” You laughed nervously. “Look, it’s seriously fine. They’re all set.”
“Are you alright?”
You sagged back in your office chair.
“Yeah,” You fibbed.
Another harrowing pause. Then—
“Alright.”
It sounded like a tired concession. You forced yourself to draw in a deep breath, trying to lift the anxious weight moving to settle in your chest.
“I’ll need help bringing them to the venue,” You added.
“I can do that.”
You knew he could; you hadn’t doubted his willingness to help at any turn. You tipped your head into your hand, nodding a little bit.
“Sounds good, thank you.”
“You looking forward to the party tonight?”
No, you really weren’t. In your experience, joint bachelor/bachelorette parties were either hellishly boring, or nothing but trouble.
“Yeah!” You chirped. “It’s gonna be fun!”
–
Dinner had been nice. The first couple of rounds of drinks had also been nice. Moving to a club had felt like a bad idea, but there you were nonetheless, crammed between the bar and Bradley. You were trying to focus on anything but the feeling of his body behind yours and the scent of his cologne as you waited for your drinks. This was bad. This was sort of torture. You peered around your shoulder as you heard Katie shriek in excitement, and smiling as her fiance, Cory, leaned in to give her a kiss.
“They’re sweet.”
Bradley had to get close to say it—to speak it into your ear, over the sound of the music. He rested his hand on your hip, as if he had to hold and keep your attention, as if you wouldn’t know that he was talking to you. You managed a nod, your fingers flexing against the bar. You lowered your head, stomach twisting as the bartender pushed your drinks toward you. You reached out, passing Bradley’s drink back to him before you took hold of your own.
Bradley gave your hip a squeeze, steering you back toward the group. Oh—god. You closed your eyes tightly for a second before you turned to face Bradley. You pressed your drink toward his hand, forcing him to let go of you and take hold of it, and leaned in so that he could hear you.
“I’m going to get some air! I’ll be right back.”
You turned, squeezing through fellow clubbers before he could ask or argue. You gave the bouncer a murmur of, “Excuse me,” As you slid past him. You puffed softly as the sounds of the club dropped away. The air outside was warm; the breeze pushing over you almost smelled sweet compared to the stench of sweat and booze waiting for you back inside.
Ugh, god. You didn’t want to go back inside, but you knew you couldn’t get away with going home. Most of your stuff was inside, anyway—your phone, your wallet, your bag.
“Do you have a light?”
You glanced up at the question, giving the man asking a small shake of your head.
“No, sorry.”
“Eh. I’ll find one.” The man reached into his pocket, tapping out two cigarettes. “Want one?”
“I’m good, but thank you.”
He grunted, pushing the other one back into the pack before drawing one out and tucking it between his lips. He wandered away, and you leaned back against the outside of the club.
Maybe you could slide into the booth, grab your things, say goodbye to Katie and Cory, and just dip without him noticing—
“Sure you don’t want one?”
You looked up, nerves twisting as the man leaned close against the wall beside you. You shook your head, straightening up.
“Honestly, I’m fine,” You insisted, heading for the door.
“Hey, c’mon. You could at least keep me company,” The man argued, taking hold of your wrist and tugging you back toward him. Panic trickled through your veins as you tried to yank your wrist back, hissing, “Let go of me—”
“Hey!”
You hardly caught sight of Bradley before he was shoving the man harshly against the wall.
“The fuck, dude!” The smoker spluttered, dropping your wrist as he gave Bradley’s chest a shove in return.
“She said let go, asshole,” Bradley seethed, knocking the man’s hands away. Oh, fuck. You glanced nervously toward the bouncer and the people waiting on line as they took notice of the trouble brewing. Bradley could not get into shit on the weekend of the wedding—Katie would kill you both.
“He did, he let go! He let go,” You insisted, resting your hand on Bradley’s chest. When it didn’t nudge him back, you took hold of his hand, tugging him back with all your might and hardly budging him. “Let’s go!” You gave his arm another pull, pleading, “Bradley, please.”
It took another harrowing moment of contentious staring between the two before Bradley drew away, his tight, sharp gaze still set on the other man. You gripped his hand more tightly, raising your other hand to press against his shoulder.
“Let’s go back inside,” You urged. “Come on.”
It took another couple of pulls before Bradley acquiesced, trailing you back toward the bouncer. He hesitated at the door, eyes still set on the man before he allowed you to pull him in.
“Are you alright?” Were the first words out of his mouth.
“Are you crazy?” Were yours as you ripped your hand away from his. “What the hell were you thinking!”
Bradley looked stricken, brow knitting together.
“The hell did you expect me to do? He was all over you!”
“Why did you even follow me outside?”
“You practically ran out here, I thought something was wrong—and then I got out there and it was worse than I thought.”
You sighed heavily, turning away and shaking your head.
“Let’s just…Can we go back to the others?” You mumbled, turning from him. You heard him fall into step a couple of paces behind you, seeming to keep a measured distance as you made your way back to the rest of the wedding party. Once there, you embedded yourself deep into the corner with the bride and the other bridesmaids, forcing your smile wide and avoiding Bradley for the rest of the night.
–
It had been terrifying, having someone grab you—but the speed with which Bradley had come to your rescue was…Sort of hot? Sure, you could’ve gotten out of it yourself, but he hadn’t even hesitated. He’d gotten right up in that guy’s face—for you. You were certain that he would’ve done it for any of the other bridesmaids…Though you weren’t sure if he would’ve followed them outside…
No, he would’ve. Surely he would’ve. He was a good guy, it seemed like something he would do—
“Hey.”
He was nice, and sweet, and…Really, really attractive, god. The look on his face, the cords of his neck straining as he’d shoved the man, as he’d hissed, She said let go, asshole—
“Hey!”
You jumped at the feeling of Katie flicking the side of your head. The backseat of the uber was a tight squeeze with you, Karie, and Cory. You turned from looking out through the car window, smiling when you saw her watching you. Cozied into Cory’s side, she was peering at you with hazy blue eyes; her copper hair seemed dull under the glow of passing streetlights; her bride sash hung limply around her middle.
“What?” You chuckled.
“What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re being all…” She waved a finger at you. “You’re being weird. What happened?”
“Nothing happened.”
“I heard Bradley tell Cory that someone grabbed you.”
Your face burned with embarrassment, but you forced your expression to a neutral set.
“It was some drunk guy outside of the club,” You excused. “No big deal, you know. Nothing I’ve never dealt with.”
“You were all weird when you came back, too. All quiet.”
“It was loud in there, and I didn’t have much to say. I was vibing.”
Katie’s eyes narrowed slightly, and you could feel her winding up for a question before she was distracted by the sound of Cory snoring behind her. You grinned as she shifted beside him, elbowing in the side with a hiss of, “Babe! Don’t snore, you’re gonna kill my uber rating!”
–
Loading the favor bags into Bradley’s Bronco was done in awkward silence. Neither of you said much, apart from, “Here,” and, “Thanks,” and, “I can grab that one.” Despite how carefully they were cushioned as you put them into the car, you found yourself looking into the backseat every few moments as you heard the bottles rattling from some bump in the road. You glanced at Bradley as you turned to look through the windshield again. You weren’t hungover, but you did have a growing headache.
“…Sorry I got snippy last night.”
It sort of pained you to say it, but you’d been repeating it in your head for the last two hours. You had to work your way up to saying it. You’d played with the phrasing, the tone, the pace, and it still felt stupid as it came out of your mouth. Before Bradley could say anything, you added, “I know you were just trying to help and I shouldn’t have freaked out at you like that.”
Bradley still didn’t respond, and it took everything in your power to not turn and look at him, to see if he was even listening, or if he was rolling his eyes. But after a moment, he offered, “S’alright. I may’ve overreacted a little.”
“…I thought you were gonna slug the guy.” You were trying to tease him, but Bradley didn’t even miss a beat:
“I thought I was, too.”
You turned to look at him then, stunned. Bradley kept his focus on the road, his jaw clenched, his gaze unreadable behind his sunglasses. You swallowed thickly, looking into the backseat again as the bottles rattled.
“Would you stop fussin’ over those?” He groaned. “They’re fine.”
“They better be. We don’t have any extras if they break.”
“Want me to slow the car to fifteen miles an hour?”
You could see him starting to smile in your periphery. Your stupid, crush-blind giddiness welled, feeling the tension in the car begin to break down.
“No…” You twisted back around in your seat, slumping petulantly. “Twenty will be fine.”
Bradley turned to look at you as the car came to a stop at a red light, gazing at you over the top of his sunglasses.
“Twenty-three, final offer.”
“Sold.”
Bradley’s smile made your stomach flip, and you both turned to look through the windshield again as the light turned green.
–
The wedding was perfect. The reception was painful.
Liz seemed lovely, and for as kind as you were trying to be, your attempts were made even more difficult by your wealth of feeling for Bradley, and the adoring way that he curled his arm around her shoulders, pressed a kiss to her cheek, her lips, her temple; the way he offered to get her a drink, or something to eat; the way his hand slid automatically to her hip, or her lower back; the way he hung on her every word.
You didn’t belabor it. When you spotted the two of them dancing together, her body cradled safely against his, you furiously pushed away your feelings of inadequacy and upset away in favor of looking at Katie and Cory. You relaxed at the sight of them—at the love in their eyes, the sureness there.
It reminded you that loving someone wasn’t supposed to hurt. So whatever it was that you felt for Bradley could be left behind, in that room. You needed it to be.
–
“You missed the bouquet toss.”
The sound of his voice made you shiver a little. Aw, hell. You’d only just managed to center yourself. Looking out over the moonlit ocean had calmed you, somewhat. But maybe whatever feelings you had for Bradley could be left…On the venue’s patio? But you glanced back, leaning against the railing and eyeing Bradley as he came closer.
“I’m alright with that. The last time I was in the middle of one of those, I almost got socked in the face.”
“Yeesh,” Bradley muttered.
“Yeah, bouquet tosses are no joke.”
He rested his arms against the wide railing beside you, looking out over the water. The two of you stood in calm silence for a while.
“So when’s your next Maid of Honor gig?”
You smiled, shaking your head. “Hopefully not for a while. I think I need a break from the wedding circuit.”
“You say circuit or circus?”
“Bit of column A, bit of column B.”
Bradley chuckled.
“Well, whenever it is, if you need a hand, you let me know.”
“Even if you’re not involved in the wedding?”
“Sure. This was honestly kinda fun. And it’s ‘cause I did it with you.”
The butterflies in your chest whirled restlessly as you felt Bradley look at you. You forced yourself to laugh, shaking your head.
“I wouldn’t foist wedding duties on you if you weren’t part of the wedding, Bradley. That would be mean. I appreciate the offer, though.”
“…Could I pick your brain about wedding stuff, sometime?” He hedged. “You know, as Liz and I get closer to ours?”
You could say no. You could remind him of what you said, of the fact that you were getting off of the wedding circuit once this wedding was up. You could stick to your conviction that as the necessity for your proximity passed, you’d keep your distance from him—
“Of course you can,” You nodded, turning to look at him. His sweet smile and the full weight of his gaze and focus were enough to crack you in two.
“Dream team?” He asked, holding his hand up for a high five. You nodded, giving him a quick high five before you curled your arms around yourself.
“Dream team.”
–
It had been a mistake to reopen the lines of communication. You’d made the decision while tipsy, sending him an innocent, innocuous message. You hadn’t even expected a response—but he’d gotten back to you within minutes. You could’ve cut the communication dead there, but you’d found yourself grappling for connection, for the feeling of being wanted. You knew you’d get it from your ex, for better or for worse, and you needed something to drown the rotting buds of affection that you still felt blooming for Bradley.
You hadn’t seen Bradley since the wedding, but the two of you had kept in touch. When he’d started calling you, most of the conversation had been around his wedding prep, but it hadn’t stayed that way. The two of you always managed to get off-topic—to ask and talk about one another’s lives, your days, your work. After the first couple of months, he seemed to drop the wedding chat entirely, just calling to talk. When you did try to steer it back in that direction—to a venue, or a time of year, or flowers—he managed to talk his way out of it. And you could’ve pried, but you let him avoid the topic. You were happy not to hear about Liz. Whenever your phone buzzed and his name appeared, your heart made a sharp leap from your chest to your throat. You craved the sound of his voice, missed the sight of his smile, reveled in his teasing and laughter.
So sure, starting a conversation with your ex, Ryan, had been sort of stupid. But it felt smarter than allowing your crush for an engaged man to completely cloud your judgement.
–
“Are you going to Cory and Katie’s for brunch this weekend?”
“Is that this weekend?” You groaned, tipping your head back. “Fuck, I forgot.”
“I thought you would’ve been on top of that! You were so on top of things for the wedding.”
“Well, that was different. That was way more involved.”
“Hey, brunch can be pretty damn involved.”
“You speaking from experience, Bradshaw?”
“I have faced some terrifying situations, but the worst of which was a bottomless brunch when they ran out of prosecco.”
You rolled your eyes, shifting in your office chair and stifling a snort.
“You’re such a weirdo.”
“So am I gonna see you?”
Am I gonna see you.
Not are we going to see you—because presumably Liz would be there, too. A few months ago, Bradley had mentioned wanting to bring her more into the fold, into his group of friends. Most of his friends knew Cory and Katie; most of them would probably be at brunch.
“Uh…” You eyed your calendar. “Maybe?”
“You too busy for me now?”
“For you?” You scoffed a laugh. “This isn’t your brunch, mister.”
“No, I know. That’s not what I mean, it just…”
Bradley trailed off on the other end of the phone, and you frowned, shaking your head.
“‘It just’, what?”
“It’s been a while since the wedding. It’d be nice to see you.”
“It’d be nice to see you, too.” The admission felt dangerous, but it was too late to draw back in—and it was mutual. You wouldn’t have dared say it to him if he hadn’t said it first.
“So come by,” He urged. “At least for a bit.”
–
For a bit. You could make it a short stop.
“We’ll be fast,” You swore. “Like, a hello and a bellini and then we are out of there.”
“Why are we going if you don’t even want to stay long?”
It was a valid question, but it made you bristle a bit. It was clear that Ryan wasn’t excited to go. Well, he’d never gotten along with your friends, anyway. He’d had a feeling that they didn’t like him—and he had been right. You hadn’t told anyone that the two of you were seeing one another again, and maybe it was unfair to ambush them like this, but you didn’t think you could be around Bradley and Liz—around their cooing and teasing and sweetness—without something or someone to distract you from the reality of the situation.
“You want me to drop you off somewhere?” You asked. “I can. I can drop you off and pick you up when I’m done.”
“I’m only meant—”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to go.”
“I never said I didn’t wanna go.”
“You’re acting like it.”
“You’re the one saying we don’t have to say long!” He scoffed. “Can we park and get in there?”
You puffed your cheeks out and pushed out a breath, shaking your head a little bit. This was a bad idea. Maybe you should turn around and head home—
But your heart leapt at the sight of Bradley’s Bronco parked a few cars back from Katie and Cory’s, and you knew you wouldn’t turn around.
Quick in, quick out. One bellini, maybe half of a bagel, a warning that you had other plans and couldn’t stick around long. Ask Katie how the honeymoon was, tell Cory to call you when they needed to plan the baby shower, maybe high five Bradley, and then you’d dip.
“We always hang out with my friends,” Ryan grumbled as you parked.
“Why is that even something you’d complain about?”
“Because you hide me from yours.”
You put the car in park, stomach churning guiltily as you met his eye.
“You don’t like my friends,” You reminded him.
“I’m willing to try, but they need to be, too.”
“…Okay,” You nodded. “I’ll talk to them about it. Not now, but like. I’ll talk to them about it.”
“Thank you.”
You sighed softly, reaching out and taking his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” Ryan tipped his head back against the rest, slightly mussing his ash blond hair. “I don’t get why you’re so freaked about this brunch thing. It’s, like. Supposed to be chill, right?”
“It is. It is, it’s gonna be a lot of people, their apartment is pretty small. You know how I get when it’s loud and crowded, and…Overloads me.”
Ryan rolled his eyes, glancing toward the building.
“Let’s get you in and out, then,” He offered. “And then we can get me in and out.” He waggled his brows, and you huffed, drawing your hand out of his and getting out of the car.
Ryan took hold of your hand again once the two of you were on the sidewalk, trailing you as you led him to the door of the apartment building. You could hear music and chatter coming from Katie and Cory’s. You drew in a deep breath before you raised your hand, knocking on the door. It was a moment before it opened, and as soon as it did, your heart stuttered in your chest.
Your attraction to Bradley had never faded like it was supposed to. You had worked at it. You’d reminded yourself of the pros and cons, beaten yourself over the head with the fact that he was with someone, in a committed relationship. You had pushed yourself back into Ryan’s arms because, for a time, you had felt wanted by him. Things had never been perfect between you. You butted heads, and you tended to not want to budge on your arguments. You were quick to anger with one another, with each little nitpick reopening the old wounds. Your relationship had been on-again off-again for a couple of years, with each period of on-again falling into the same patterns that had led to the two of you splitting up in the first place.
This latest stint with Ryan had only been exacerbated by your frequent conversations with and interest in another man. Every conversation, every touch, hold, kiss, conversation, had been haunted with the idea of Bradley lingering in your periphery.
“Hey!” Bradley grinned. He reached out, drawing you in without a second’s thought or hesitation.
You leaned into him, curling your arm around his middle and patting his back. You held for as long as was appropriate, and not nearly as long as you’d like; the scent of him threatened to draw you back in. You would’ve embraced him fully if Ryan wasn’t still holding your other hand.
“I can’t believe you made it—Katie literally just told me there was no way you were showing up,” He added, leaning back to get a better look at you.
“Yeah, well,” You smiled weakly. “We can’t stay too long, but we wanted to drop in and see everyone.”
Your repeated use of we seemed to jolt Bradley. His gaze dropped to your other hand, then swept up Ryan’s arm to take in his face.
“Bradley, this is Ryan,” You added, stepping back to allow Ryan to come into the apartment fully. “Ryan, Bradley. Bradley was the Best Man at Katie and Cory’s wedding.”
“Aw, yeah, I’ve seen pictures from the day-of,” Ryan held his hand out, giving Bradley’s a shake. “Nice to meet you, man.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” Bradley nodded.
“Where’s Liz!” You tacked on, glancing around. A look that you didn’t recognize flashed across Bradley’s face, but it was gone in a blink.
“Ah, she, uh…She couldn’t make it.”
“Aw, I’m sorry,” You frowned—and you tried to mean it.
“It’s alright. Come on, come in,” Bradley added, waving you inside. “Sorry, I shouldn’t stall you guys in the doorway.”
“It’s okay,” You laughed, looking around before glancing back at Ryan. “Let’s see if we can go find the newlyweds.” You glanced up at Bradley, patting his shoulder lightly. “I’ll see you around.”
It felt wrong to say—it felt worse when you saw Bradley’s expression falter a touch. But you were already turning away from him and heading for a group of a few of your friends. You saw the flash of their horror and confusion before they pushed smiles onto their faces, squealing, “Hey!” as a group.
“Hi!” You smiled back, giving Ryan’s hand a reassuring squeeze. You leaned into each of them, kissing their cheeks before leaning back. Katie hardly leaned into you; her gaze was still set on your ex.
“Y’all remember Ryan,” You asked, waving back toward him. It garnered nods and murmurs of agreement.
“Nice to see you,” He offered before he leaned in a little. “I’m going to go grab a drink. You want one?”
“Sure,” You nodded, “Thanks.”
Before you could blink, Ryan ducked in, pressing his lips to yours in a quick, warm kiss. He didn’t overdo it, or make it pointedly salacious for the sake of your friends, like he may have in the past. Now, he gave your lower back a pat and turned, heading away from you, and leaving your little group in a pointed silence. You didn’t meet any of their eyes. You stared at Katie’s glass and warned them:
“I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
It forced them off of the topic, and onto a new subject: Katie and Cory’s honeymoon in Ibiza. You found yourself half-listening; the other ear was unwittingly searching out the sound of Bradley’s voice in your periphery. You caught on it now and again for a syllable or two, and your head would twitch in his direction. It was impossible for you not to. As badly as you wanted to go to him—to soak up his smiles and his warm, kind eyes—you rooted yourself with your friends, averting your gaze from their nervous and judgemental glances.
But when the conversation shifted again—when your ear caught on Ella’s comment of, “—A shame about Bradley and Liz, isn’t it?” Your head snapped to them.
“I know,” Katie sighed, shaking her head, “He’s such a good guy.”
“What happened?” You frowned, shaking your head. The others glanced around conspiratorially before they leaned in a little more.
“Apparently,” Katie leaned into it, “He and Liz, like…Imploded. She said it was taking them too long to get the wedding together, he said that it would take as long as they needed—”
“Neither of them would budge,” Ella shrugged. “Apparently she eloped with some guy she met, like, the week after they split.”
“Oh, my god,” You breathed. The news twisted you all up; you didn’t know how it was possible that someone could do that to Bradley.
“Honestly, I don’t think she really even wanted to be married to him,” Cassie offered. “I think she just wanted to be married.”
You found yourself twisting around to try and catch sight of Bradley then—like you could see some visible sign of the change, the distress; like the ring you’d come to imagine sitting on his finger had disappeared.
And then Ryan rested a hand on your lower back and pressed a bellini into your hand, and it was like a bucket of ice water had been tipped over your head.
Bradley hadn’t said a thing to you. You had been asking about Liz for months. You had questioned their plans: their honeymoon arrangements, their colors, their venue options; you’d offered to get him in touch with coordinators, with florists, and DJs and caterers and bakers and goddamnit, why hadn’t he told you?
Why hadn’t he at least feigned that the wedding was on hold? That they were regrouping, or restrategizing, or asked you to change the topic, or to just shut the hell up about it? Had he not wanted you to know? Was it a matter of his loss, his pride?
Finally catching sight of him across the room, you found him with a gaggle of guys. He had a glass in his hand, and a smile on his face as he laughed—the kind that made his eyes crinkle, and his chin tip up with the force of it. You saw his head turn toward you a touch, and you hurriedly averted your gaze, raising your glass to your lips and taking a deep draw from your glass. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck. The alcohol seemed to burn and bubble as it dropped into your belly.
“Hon, are you okay?” Ella asked, frowning at you. “You’re looking a little green around the gills.”
“Uh…No, you know what, I actually, um,” You cleared your throat. “I’m not feeling well. I think we should get going, actually, we’ve got some other things that we need to, um…” You cleared your throat, glancing back toward Ryan. He looked as confused as your friends. Maybe he figured the two of you would stay for more than five minutes. You were a flurry of apology as you pecked their cheeks, grabbing Ryan’s hand and half-dragging him out of the apartment.
“They say something about me?” He asked tiredly as the two of you left.
“No,” You shook your head, climbing into the car. “No, it really—I really do feel like shit right now.”
Your heart was pounding in your chest; the blood was roaring in your ears; your head was spinning. You stuck the key into the ignition before you leaned back to put your seatbelt on, drawing in a deep breath as you tried to calm yourself down.
“If you feel so shitty, you probably shouldn’t be driving,” Ryan grumbled.
“I can handle it.”
“You could’ve at least waited for me to get something to eat—”
“Oh my god,” You groaned. “Maybe you should’ve grabbed a bagel while you were already in the kitchen, then.”
“You said you wanted a drink.”
“You offered to get me one!”
You turned to the car, turning the key in the ignition before glancing at Ryan, doing a double take and waving at his chest.
“…What?” He asked.
“Would you put your fricking seatbelt on, please?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!” You insisted. “God forbid something happen, I don’t want you flying through the fucking windshield—”
“You know what?” Ryan reached out, opening the door. “I’m gonna walk.”
“You’re gonna walk?” You scoffed. “You’re really gonna fucking—”
You winced as he slammed the door shut. You shook your head, glancing into the rear view. Fucking fine. If he wanted to walk, he could fucking walk. You glanced to the side mirrors and checked your blindspot before flooring it out of the spot and peeling down the block. You glanced down as you heard your phone buzz, certain you would have a text from Ryan, asking you to pick him up at the corner.
Instead, you spotted Bradley’s name. You found yourself pitching your phone into the passenger side footwell on instinct as you turned back to the road.
He hadn’t even thought about pulling you in when he saw you. He’d drawn you into his arms, completely disregarding Ryan—so much so that he seemed surprised when you pointed Ryan out. He’d acted like you were the only person there.
You pressed your elbow against the door, resting your head on your head.
Six months. You had been asking Bradley (or trying to ask Bradley) about the wedding for the last six months. He had played along. You felt stupid, embarrassed.
And goddamnit, you felt hopeful.
–
When you finally got home and retrieved your phone from the car footwell, you had three texts and five missed calls.
Three of the missed calls were from Ryan, as well as one of the texts—a request to sit down and hash out whatever the hell happened at the party. Another was from Katie (Bitch, you got a lot of explaining to do with a gif of Ricky Ricardo waggling his finger). You saw the missed calls and texts from Bradley last:
BB (#DreamTeam)
Sorry I missed you on your way out
As if it was his fault.
Well, then again, it sort of was.
You eyed the last time he called; it had been a few minutes ago. You huffed softly, considering your options. You shot a text over to Ryan agreeing to meet first. You knew that delaying your response in favor of calling Bradley would send your guilt through the roof. Then, you hesitantly tapped on Bradley’s name, putting the phone on speaker. You glanced around, sighing and leaning back in the driver’s seat as the ringtone brrrr’d in the absence of his response. It was one ring away from going voicemail when you heard him pick up.
“Hello?” He answered.
“Hey. Sorry, I was driving, I didn’t, uh—I didn’t see that you called.”
“That’s okay.”
You nodded a little before you paused, brows raising a touch.
“So what’s up?” You finally pressed.
“Seemed like you left in a hurry. I turned around and you were just gone.”
“Something came up.”
“Katie said you weren’t feeling well.”
Snitch.
“I wasn’t.”
“Feeling better now?” Bradley pried, and before you could even think of your answer, “Wanna go grab a drink, or…Dinner, something?”
You tipped your head back against the rest, closing your eyes. No. No. That was an awful idea. You needed to get together with Ryan as soon as possible, to get your shit together, to work out whatever you needed to work out—
–
“You been here before?” You asked.
“Uh—”
“Hey, Rooster!”
Your brows raised as he raised a hand, waving at a woman not too far off. He turned a bashful smile toward you as he lowered his hand, folding his arms on the bar.
“It’s near the base, so it’s pretty popular with people in the service.”
“It’s nice in here,” You nodded, looking around.
“Nicer than Katie’s?”
He didn’t bother trying to be subtle, leaning into the question. You slowly turned to face forward again, casting the bartender a smile and a thanks as she set your drinks down. Bradley waited until she drifted away before he added,
“You ran out of there like you were on fire.”
“Thought you turned around I was just gone,” You reminded him, raising your brows. Bradley’s eyes skated across your face.
“Saw you out of the corner of my eye,” He admitted.
“How’d you know it was me?”
“I’ve seen you ditch out of somewhere before.”
You turned from him, taking up your beer.
“You need someone to sock that guy, I’m your first call,” Bradley added, and you couldn’t help but smile ruefully as you shook your head.
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”
“Katie said he doesn’t treat you right.”
“The way Liz treated you?”
It fell out of your mouth before you can stop it. You watched Bradley’s expression harden, his jaw clenching as his fingers flexed around the bottle in front of him. He didn’t hold your gaze. As bad as you felt for mentioning it, you couldn’t have it over your head anymore.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” You plied when he gave no answer. “I asked about that shit for months, like a fricking idiot.”
“You weren’t an idiot. You didn’t know.”
“Exactly my point! Why didn’t you at least pretend you had postponed it or something?”
“I didn’t wanna talk about it. I still don’t.”
“Then why’d you invite me out?”
“I said I didn’t want to talk about that, not that I didn’t want to talk at all.”
You both turned back to your drinks, gaze set contentiously on them.
“…I take it Katie told you about Ryan?” You hedged.
“A bit, yeah.”
“What’d she say?”
“That he’s a dick who won’t compromise.”
“Yeah, well,” You shifted on your bar stool. “I don’t exactly have a gold medal in that, either when it comes to him.”
“Just him?”
You considered for a moment, tipping your chin up and eyeing the opposite wall.
“We butt heads, we always have. It always starts out pretty well, and then…I don’t know. Little things start to break down, little communication errors or fights and they get bigger and bigger, and,” You raised a hand, mimicking an explosion. “He was peeved when we went to Katie’s, thought I pulled him out of there because they said something to me about him. I mean, they would’ve, probably. And they clearly said something to you.”
“She said she had no idea how you even linked back up.”
“I texted him a kitty picture.”
You saw Bradley frown out of the corner of your eye, his mouth working wordlessly as he seemed to grapple with something. It clicked, and you groaned, “No, an actual cat, you—” You reached out, giving his shoulder a light shove as the two of you dissolved into laughter, “You perv.”
–
You don’t let Bradley right back in, and you don’t show Ryan right out, either. Where your friendship with Bradley had been middling, your reopened channels of communication were slowly bringing it back to life. Where your relationship with Ryan had been waning, you gave it another shot in earnest.
–
“So when do I get to meet him?” Bradley asked.
“You already met him,” You chuckled.
“Not properly. I didn’t get a chance to really talk to him.”
“You want to?”
Bradley leaned back in his seat a little. You could feel his gaze sweeping you, even as you poked at your dinner.
“You don’t want me to?” He batted back. You shrugged.
“I have no problem with it. Kinda surprised, considering what Katie’s told you about him.”
“I like to draw my own conclusions. ‘Sides, if you’re with him, he can’t be all that bad.”
“Your opinion of me is way too high, Bradshaw.”
“Your opinion of yourself isn’t high enough.”
Your stomach flipped at his insistence, and you raised your drink to swallow your arguments.
“Gonna have to meet him soon,” He added.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m goin’ away.”
He said it so casually, so easily, like it wouldn’t hit you below the belt and ruin your appetite. You carefully lowered your glass back to the table.
“When?” You asked as lightly as you could manage.
“Next week.”
“How long will you be gone?”
“At least a couple of months.”
You nodded a little, belly squirming with nerves. It was a wholly irrational response. You knew very well what Bradley did. You just hadn’t come into contact with the reality of it before.
“So?” He leaned against the table. “When can I meet him?”
“…I don’t know, I don’t…” You shook your head. “I don’t know when he’s, um…” Your brain was scrambled all of the sudden. It was like it was being overtaken with the knowledge of Bradley’s leaving, the possibilities. “I’ll ask.”
“I’ll pencil it in.”
“Am I gonna see you before I leave?”
“With Ryan?”
“I mean if he can’t make it.”
You give Bradley a guarded gaze from beneath your eyelids, smiling as you see him nodding.
“Course you’re gonna. Dream team, remember?”
–
“Think your guy can pencil me in for when I’m back?”
You grimaced at his question. Bradley had been gone for almost a month, and asking that question for nearly just as long. Your phone time had only increased with his being so far away; you got a call from him every other day, if not every day. You shifted on your couch, eyeing your tv boredly.
“Be kinda weird for you to hang out with a guy I’m not with anymore, but yeah, I’m sure we could work something out.”
There was a moment of quiet on the other end of the phone before he asked, “When’d that happen?“
"Yesterday.”
“And what happened there?”
“We were not, uh…” You shook your head. “Ultimately, we weren’t compatible. I think that’s the nice way to say it.”
“What’s the mean way?”
“He’s a fucking dumbass.”
“Makes sense.”
“Does it?”
“Sure. Anyone who can’t make it work with you—there’s gotta be something wrong with ‘em.”
You tipped your head back against your couch, your feet kicking with childish excitement. Ugh, goddamnit, he always seemed to know the right thing to say.
“Anyway,” You pushed on as you settled back down. “I can still set you up with Ryan.”
“No thank you.”
“Gee, why not?”
“He’s not really my type. Sounds like he’d be Liz’s, though.”
You smiled a little ruefully, hand scrubbing over the side of your neck. It had taken some time, but Bradley had finally opened up to you about what had gone wrong. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault, he’d sworn. It was just that they were in different places, ready (or not ready) for different things. He’d gradually gone from not giving a damn what she’d gotten up to without him to wishing her well. You couldn’t imagine feeling the same good will toward Ryan.
“Doesn’t seem like she needs a fix up,” You quipped.
“She certainly does not.”
“Mm. How’s it going over there?”
“It’s been alright. Tiring,” Bradley admitted. “We’ve moved on to parameter-specific runs, and it’s, uh…It’s gonna be a hard one.”
You bit your lip. You weren’t sure what to say that he surely hadn’t heard a hundred times before. Tell him that he would be fine? Beg him to come home safely?
You hadn’t been able to spend time alone with Bradley before he’d left. Katie had wound up having a small dinner at her place—something for friends, something more casual. You couldn’t bring yourself to selfishly break off another bit of his time, and you’d soaked up all of him that you could while you were there. When the party had ended, you’d trailed him back to the Bronco. Your conversation had gone on and on outside of it, and then inside when you couldn’t bring yourself to stand still. Even then, practically facing one another in the front seat of his car, you’d found yourself feeling antsy. You’d wanted to tell him something beyond the fact that you would miss him. You wanted to tell him that you were worried about him; you wanted to somehow let him know that the news of his sudden departure had kept you up for the better part of a week; you wanted to know if he would be thinking of you, too; you wanted to reach out and touch—his hand, his arm, his cheek, something.
But you’d kept to your side of the car, bottled your protests and worries, and resolutely tried to ignore the way your heart leapt in your throat whenever his knee nearly brushed yours.
Now, the clarity of distance told you that you’d done the right thing. Laying some confession of interest or a kiss on him would’ve clouded the lines of communication that you had open now—lines that you weren’t willing to jeopardize.
“You’ll get it,” You finally said, “Whatever it is.”
“I’d tell you more, but—”
“No, that’s alright. I think that would just make me more worried, anyway.”
“You worry about me?”
Crap. You slid down in your seat, pressing your head back against the cushion.
“Course I do,” You admitted quietly, as if he could lose the sound of you over the phone—as if your mumbled confirmation wouldn’t be chased or leaned into.
“You don’t have to.”
“Oh, well, thank you for that absolution. I was only worrying for fun.”
“C’mon,” Bradley chuckled softly. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” You grumbled.
“It’s nice.”
“It’s nice? You enjoy making me worry? That’s just cruel, Bradshaw.”
“Swear to god, when I get back, I’m gonna—”
“What?” You goaded, heart ticking up in your chest. “What are you gonna do?”
Maybe it was a step too far. Bradley went quiet on the other end of the phone. Your mouth went dry as you waited with nervous anticipation. And then you registered the yell of someone on the other end of the phone, the use of his callsign.
“Shit,” He muttered, then, louder: “I gotta go.”
“Okay,” You nodded. It was better that he couldn’t see the nod, or the way panic washed across your face. “Be careful.”
He didn’t need to be told that, but you couldn’t help the plea.
“I will,” He swore. And then he was gone. You lowered your phone, watching as BB (#DreamTeam) flickered away, leaving your lock screen. Gonna what? What the hell was he gonna do when he got back?
Then again, you weren’t sure you cared what it was, so long as he did get back.
–
“Did I wake you up?”
“No!” You leaned over, turning your lamp on and pushing yourself to sit up, your phone clutched in your hand. You knew that the first thing you’d said to him, your groggy little opening gambit of, “Whazzit?” had probably given the game away, but hell, he’d asked.
You’d hardly heard from Bradley for the last few weeks. You hadn’t reached out. You hadn’t wanted to bother or distract him from his task. But on the late nights when you couldn’t sleep, you found yourself wondering if Bradley hadn’t contacted you because he couldn’t—because something had gone wrong. You’d found yourself constantly checking your phone, keeping it on the edge of your periphery on the off-chance he called or texted.
“You lying to me?” He added. At least he sounded a little amused by the prospect. You scrubbed your hand across your eyes. Damnit.
“…A little bit,” You mumbled.
“Go back to sleep.”
“Nooo,” You whined, kicking your feet petulantly beneath your sheets. “Talk to me.”
“You laying down?”
“…I was.”
“Lay back down.”
The order felt a little salacious, but you were sure he meant nothing by it. Still, you slid down as he said, tipping your sleep-heavy head back against the pillows.
“Talk to me,” You urged again. “Please?”
“You should’ve let me go to voicemail.”
“I said talk, not argue.”
“Now who’s arguing?”
You smiled, letting your eyes close.
“‘M not arguing. Making a point isn’t arguing.”
“It is when you use that tone.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
His reassurance made you melt into the mattress a little more.
“Good,” You mumbled. “I was afraid you weren’t.”
“Don’t worry about that.”
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Now you’re arguing again,” He chuckled. “You always this combative when you wake up?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“…Yeah, I would.”
For a moment, you were certain you imagined him saying it, or that you’d managed to mishear him in his hazy state.
“You could, you know,” You finally offered.
“Oh yeah? How would I do that?”
His voice was different than you were used to—low and soothing, and curled with a wink that you longed to see.
“How do you think?”
“Could always call you in the middle of the night again.”
You pushed a sleepy, ugly giggle, then slapped your hand over your mouth when you realized that the sound escaped you. Bradley laughed quietly on the other end.
“If that’s the route you wanna go, Bradshaw.”
“I am sorry,” He added. “I forgot what time it was over there.”
“S’okay, I don’t mind. I missed your voice.”
God, being tired made you far more loose-lipped than you typically were. You were already penciling in a reminder to be mortified about this conversation in the morning. But it was chased and erased by Bradley’s gentle,
“I missed yours, too.”
Your stomach squirmed at the sentiment, a goofy smile spreading across your face.
“Even when it sounds like I’ve been gargling gravel?” You teased.
“You don’t sound like that.”
It took you a few moments to answer. As badly as you wanted to stay awake, you could feel sleep sinking its claws into you, drawing you back down.
“No? Feels like I do.”
“You don’t. You might if you stay up talking to me, though.”
“Worth it,” You insisted. You didn’t know if he took longer to answer, or if it took longer to register with you. But his voice finally worked through:
“Go back to sleep.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Mmmkay,” You finally relented. “Get home safe, please.”
“I will.”
–
In the morning, you were far less embarrassed than you thought you would be. Sure, there were still things that you sort of wish that you hadn’t said, but they were clouded out by other things—like the way Bradley had reassured you that you didn’t sound like hell, and the fact that he’d missed your voice in the first place.
Still, all of those things were stomped out by one thing that you were almost certain had been a figment of your sleep-addled mind, something that you wanted desperately to be real, but would never bring yourself to ask Bradley about—
The sound of his warm, tender little murmur right before you’d drifted off entirely:
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
You spent the morning stewing over whether or not you’d really heard Bradley say that, or if you’d conjured it up. Maybe it was something that you simply wanted so badly that you had imagined it.
Your eyes kept darting to your phone during work, your heart leaping into your throat every time the screen lit up. It was usually some app alert. Every time you perked up at the sight of it only to be let down, you felt silly. It was another entire day of ebbing excitement and rising disappointment, raising your hopes for absolutely nothing. By the time you left your office, you’d exhausted yourself. You were being ridiculous. Sure, he’d said he’d see you soon, but that was probably relative to—
“Did you manage to fall back asleep? Or did you stop talking because you were bored with me?”
Your eyes widened, your mouth falling open at the sight of him outside your office building. You didn’t even think as you darted toward him, barrelling into him. Bradley took hold of you as though you hadn’t run into him with any force. He held firm, curling his arms around your shoulders as you clung to him. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes. He smoothed his hand over your back as you grappled with it all—the feel of him; the scent of his cologne and aftershave; the fact that you could see him, touch him, prove to yourself that he was okay.
When you finally managed to talk yourself into loosening your grasp, you drew back a little, your bashful embarrassment bubbling up and trying to overtake the joy that you felt. Bradley simply smiled, cupping your cheek in a way that made your heart sing.
“Hi there,” He murmured.
“Hi,” You laughed nervously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t thinking.”
“S’alright,” He shook his head. “I’m not complaining.”
“When you said you’d see me soon, I didn’t think you meant so soon.”
“I know. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, mission accomplished.”
His thumb swept gently over the apple of your cheek, his smile pulling wide to match yours.
“When did you get back?” You asked.
“Couple of hours ago.”
And he was there, with you? Your fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt.
“Aren’t you tired?”
“A little.”
“Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
“What do you want?”
Bradley’s tongue swept across his lips, his eyes skimming your face for a moment. Then, seeming to rethink something, he shrugged.
“Whatever you’ve got.”
–
Technically you didn’t have much, but Bradley didn’t gripe about ordering in pizza. Hell, when you suggested it, he let out a groan that rattled right through you before emphatically agreeing:
“Fuck yes. Please.”
The way he said it stuck with you for entirely the wrong reason, and you found yourself almost studiously perusing a delivery app for the best option to keep him from clocking your aroused embarrassment. You didn’t have a dining room table, so the two of you wound up eating side by side, close, with some nonsense tv show that neither of you were really paying attention to playing in the background. When you asked about how it had gone, as delicately as possible, he shrugged.
“I won’t pretend it was the worst mission I’ve ever flown,” He said. “But I’m going to pretend that it was the best, either.”
He didn’t go into specifics, but that was alright. You still weren’t quite certain that you wanted him to. The less you knew, the better. Besides, it didn’t matter, anyway. He was there, safe, with you.
“Well,” You leaned back, on your couch, dusting the crumbs off of your fingers. “I’m glad it worked out.”
“Mm,” He nodded, pushing his plate away before he looked around. You raised your brows as he lowered his hand to the cushions, giving them a squeeze.
“So,” He smiled, “This where you usually call me from?”
“Usually.”
“Even last night?”
“Last night was a bit of an exception. I think we both know that.”
“Where were you?”
You nodded toward the hall. “My room. That’s where I gargle gravel.”
“I told you you didn’t sound bad,” Bradley laughed.
“Yeah, you did, and I still don’t believe you.”
Bradley shook his head a little. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hand sliding across the cushion, a little closer to you.
“You sounded good,” He insisted.
“Good might be stretching it.”
“Good’s the tip of the iceberg.”
Your tummy fluttered at the feeling of his fingertips tenderly skating over the back of your hand. Your fingers wriggled, like it would entice him to touch you more—like if you didn’t move, didn’t react, he’d pull away or stop. Bradley lowered his gaze to your hands, and your breath caught in your throat as you felt him gently turn yours, his calloused fingertips skating across your palm.
“…Bradley?”
“Mhm?”
“This may be an incredibly dumb question—”
“Doubt it.”
“Wh—” You laughed nervously before you could finish the question. “Why did you…I mean, you just got back. Why’d you come see me?”
“Because I missed you.” He took hold of your hand, his thumb sweeping along the side. “I needed to see you.”
The word makes your pulse quicken, and you blink a few times to try and clear your swimming head.
“…Needed?” You repeated dazedly. Bradley nodded, lifting his head to meet your eye.
“Needed, sweetheart.”
The way he said it was so soft, and warm, and so perfectly familiar that you could’ve cried. But Bradley was already cradling your cheek, already drawing you close and leaning in to meet you halfway. You raised your other hand, cupping the side of his neck as your lips met for the first time. Your eyes closed as you savored the tender slip and press of his kiss. The mustache was a little bristly, but hardly as intrusive as you thought it may be. The slight tickle of it made you smile.
Bradley drew back, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw before he pressed his face into your neck.
“Goddamn,” He mumbled, voice rumbling against your skin. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”
“You have?” You asked, sliding your hand up into his hair.
“Longer than I should’ve been.”
You bit your lip, resting your head against his.
“If it makes you feel any better, so have I.”
He pressed a sweet kiss to the crook of your neck before sweeping his lips over your neck and jaw, up to your ear.
“It does.”
You shivered at the caress of his breath. You turned your head shyly, nuzzling the tip of his nose with yours before tipping your chin up, giving him another gentle kiss. Bradley sighed into you, his grip in your hand tightening as you shifted closer to him. You hummed softly as he leaned back, resting his forehead against yours, chasing his lips for another peck.
“Before I completely monopolize your time, is there anything else that you planned on doing tonight?” You asked. Bradley chuckled, shaking his head.
“I did want to do one thing.”
You tried not to let your disappointment show as you, just nodded.
“What’s that?”
“See how combative you are when you wake up.”
You grinned wide, raising your hand and curling it in his collar, drawing him closer.
“Just you wait, mister.”
Taglist: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @paintballkid711 ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @recklessworry ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @nolanell ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce
#Bradley Bradshaw x Reader#Bradley Bradshaw x You#Bradley Bradshaw/Reader#Bradley Bradshaw/You#Bradley Bradshaw fic#Bradley Bradshaw imagine#Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader#The Periphery
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CNC idea:
Riding G!P!Nat while she sleeps... Poor baby waking up so confused but it feels so good
Going crazy with that thought
Mommy?
Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader
Warnings: somnophillia, cnc (reader has prior consent), smut, blowjobs, mentions of fingering, breeding kink, mommy kink, Nat has a dick
Word count: 1563
Summary: When coming home frustrated, you couldn’t help but use your girlfriend, even if she denied it.
No one is permitted to steal, copy, or reblog my work as their own!!
Upon entering the camper which you called home, you set down your keys and took care of the dirty dishes left in the sink, for some reason Nat couldn’t do it. You were frustrated, the whole day you’ve been left to deal with annoying customers and coworkers, you didn’t even get to talk to Nat once. She was as upset as you are, it was close to the longest she’s ever gone without talking to you. Call her needy, but she just wanted to hold you, to fuck you. The whole day she had to deal with her raging hard-on, even sending you pictures throughout the day that you wanted to look at so badly. You wanted to stare at her precious little cock all day, and you would if you could.
Whenever you were away she’d text you, saying how she needed you so bad, how she wanted to be inside you. And you’d always send her something back, often recording under your office desk of you fingering your dripping little cunt. You didn’t allow her to fuck herself though, she was always left begging by the end of the night. And if she was lucky, she’d get to fill your perfect little pussy with her cum.
You walked into your shared room and saw Nat spread out across the bed, her stomach facing down. You chuckled lightly and cleaned yourself up before lying down next to her. She turned in her sleep lightly and that’s when you saw it, you saw what strained painfully beneath her boxers. You brushed your hand softly against her hard length, feeling her body twitch momentarily.
“Oh Natty, you’re so cute when you’re all desperate for me.” Your palm made its way inside of her undergarments, giving a light squeeze before running your hand up and down. She moaned quietly and you leaned down, giving light pecks through the confinements that were soon pulled off of her.
Nat muttered out your name as your lips wrapped around the head of her cock, your eyes fluttering shut as the taste of her pre-cum invaded your taste buds. Your head started bobbing up and down as your fingers made a small ring around the base of her, jerking off the parts of her you couldn’t quite fit in your mouth. She was big. At least eight inches with a graceful amount of girthiness to her. It wasn’t the easiest to take her, especially the first few times.
Nat had finally woken out of her slumber, immediately being greeted by a warm sensation around her.
“Y/N? W-what are you doin- oh fuck!” She held your hair in her fingertips and basked in the feeling of your tongue licking her up and down. You smiled up at her, your mouth being full of her length.
“Mm, what does it look like I’m doing, baby? I’m sucking off this sweet fucking dick.” You released some of her to speak, immediately going back down on her seconds later. You were addicted to her taste, you couldn’t get enough of her.
“S-shit! Mommy, your mouth feels so good.” She moaned out, bucking her hips up to meet you. You nodded and grabbed one of her hands, intertwining your fingers together and letting her finish in your mouth.
“Mommy! I’m gonna-” Before she could finish speaking, hot channels of cum filled your mouth. You milked her dry, not letting a single drop go to waste.
“Yes baby, give it all to mommy, give me every last drop.” You spoke as you cleaned the rest of her dripping cock with your tongue. You made your way on top of her waist and straddled her, leaning your head down to kiss her on the lips and letting her taste herself. She groaned as your tongue slid into her awaiting mouth, your hands wandering around her muscular body.
“Fuck, even after I made you cum you’re still so needy. My needy little baby is so desperate for my pussy, tell me baby, do you want to fill me up?”
“N-no mommy, it hurts. I can’t take anymore, can we just go back to bed?” You laughed lightly and shook your head, staring down at her with fake shame.
“But baby, mommy really needs this right now, won’t you be good and do what I ask? I know you want it, don’t try denying me now.” She whined softly and stuck her head into your neck, tears falling onto you as you sunk down onto her.
“Mommy! Stop, it hurts!” A slap landed across her face and she whimpered even more. You gripped her chin and made her stare you dead in the eyes, her pleading ones gazing into your annoyed ones.
“Oh stop that shit, you know you want it. Just go back to sleep and let mommy use your nice little cock. Fuck, you’re so small, aren’t you? You can’t even please me with this tiny little thing.” It was a lie. You knew she pleased you greatly, but you loved seeing her embarrassed face. You loved mocking her, torturing her until she’s begging you to stop. She knew it was all roleplay, if she ever safe-worded, you’d stop immediately. But for now, you wanted to hear her plead.
“Answer me you little slut, tell me, tell me this is my cock. That this cute little dick is all fucking mine.”
“I-It’s all yours, mommy! I belong to you, no one else. No one could ever make me feel as good as you do.”
“Mm, that’s right, I own you. I own every inch of you, which is why you’ll let me play with you, right?” She nodded quickly and threw her head back at the warmth, almost cumming on the spot. You grind your hips, hard. Your pace was slow, too slow for her liking. But she knew not to ask for more, you’d just punish her further.
“Mhm! You can use me, I’ll be good for you.”
“Yes you will, I know you will. Because you’re my perfect little girl, you’re so fucking perfect for me.” She blushed at the praises, jerking up into you further. She hit deep inside of you, thrusting into your g-spot with every move. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you collapsed onto her chest, your hands instinctively resting on her abs. She gained a bit of confidence and wrapped her arms around your back, moving her body to hit a new angle.
“Right there! Right fucking there! Don’t stop, don’t stop till I cum all over your sexy body.” She complied, continuing her motions and moving one hand to rub your puffy little clit. She rubbed the swollen bud softly, occasionally pinching to get a reaction out of you. You couldn’t hold back anymore, the coil in your lower stomach snapped and your mouth made a small O shape, your eyes shutting. Nat took that as que to let go, her own orgasm being triggered as her cum shot into you.
“Yeah, fill me up, stuff me full of your fucking cum. Get me pregnant, baby, don’t let any of it go to waste.” You whispered out against her neck, sucking on her pulse point.
“I-I won’t, I’ll make sure you stay all round and beautiful with my babies. You’ll be so perfect pregnant, so, so perfect.” You felt so full of her, not a single drop was wasted, just like you asked. Even when she pulled out, her digits replaced her length as she fingered the cum back inside of you, admiring the way you clenched around nothing.
“Thank you, mommy.” She paused, sighing before she spoke again. “I really missed you today, I thought you were ignoring me.” The adorable pout on her face could’ve made you laugh, but you pitied her, you knew she could barely even go a minute without you.
“I know baby, I’m sorry. I was just so busy today, even on my breaks I had to work. But I’ll make it up to you. Over the weekend, we’ll do whatever you want, anything at all.” She smiled largely and held you tightly in her arms, breathing in the scent of your perfume that she longed for.
“But for now, I want to cockwarm you.”
“But, I’m still really sensitive.” Her head lowered in shame and you grasped her aching cock in your palm, running the pad of your thumb over the tip as she whined quietly.
“What did I tell you about denying me? Hm? You’ve been so good all night, don’t stop now.” She couldn’t say no to that. You lined up her length with your entrance, the feeling of being stuffed full returning. It was hard for her not to move, it would just make her even more sensitive.
“Don’t move, I mean it. Now, go back to bed baby, I’m exhausted.” Before she could speak, your finger rested on her lips, shushing her. She couldn’t sleep for another hour, trying her best not to cum when your tight walls wrapped around her so deliciously once more.
And the morning after, you kept your promise by sucking her off, waking her up to morning head. The rest of the weekend was spent pleasing her, making her cum over and over again until she was milked dry. It was the best weekend of her life.
#natasha x reader#anon ask#natasha x fem!reader#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanoff#natasha smut#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha fluff#natahsa romanoff#g!p
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Congrats on 4k Leah!🤍 I've been reading you work for a while now but I just started a new account so I can start writing something too and I'm here following you again🤎🤎 I love your writing so much! Please, never stop writing🤍 // This is my first time requesting on here so if I do it wrong, I'm so sorry🙇♀️ I'd like to request situation #28 and sentence #13 with Bob, please. Thank you so much🤍🤎 #PL2
Situation 28 - Love confession
Prompt 13 - “Tell me what you're thinking right now.”
The Waitress Song //
“Mama?” Your daughter asked as you held her hands as she stood on the edge of the pool table, balancing as your husband and his colleagues celebrated their promotions with a few rounds at the local watering hole. The Hard Deck. “How did you meet daddy?”
***~***~***~***~***~**
“What can I get you today, Flyboy?” There's a place Bob goes for breakfast every afternoon. The coffee’s rubbish and the bacon’s always hard to chew, and the toast is always soggy, but— he hardly notices.
And the food takes such a long time to get made, even when he’s the only person in the cafe. And his table is always wobbly—but he hardly notices.
You're probably thinking why he’d even bother eating there on a daily basis? There's heaps of other places on offer, why not change to another place if the bacon is rubber and the taste of the cuppa makes him pull faces and splutter?
It's the waitress. He loves her, the way she clears plates with a clutter, you make his heart race and flutter. He is absolutely aware that it's crazy to love you—A lady that's basically just a stranger with an apron down your brother.
Bobs doesn’t need to ask your name and number because this relationship is built on breakfast, all he does is wait on you just so you can wait on him.
“Just the usual?” You asked shortly after. Bob smiled softly as he handed you back the menu that’s always on the table prompt and ready. You took it with grace and fished the blue ball point pen from your bun. Finding a blank page in your notebook to write down Bob's order.
Realistically you didn’t need to write Bob's order down. You knew it off by heart, you just liked having an excuse to talk to the cute naval aviator that would go out of his way to stop by after whatever shift he’d just come off or was about to start to order some less than mediocre food from the 24hr diner your uncle owned and operated for the last twenty years.
“What’s it usually? A medium coffee to go, bacon and eggs with a side of toast and beans?” Bob couldn’t help but to chuckle softly. A beautiful crimson red crept across the apples of his cheeks that let you know he felt a little gooey on the inside that you’d memorised his order.
First you started off just saying hi to him bye to him that'll be $5.95 to him but Bob didn't really mind, that was always alright with him, he just smiled and ate. He’d watch you float around and clean the counter. Admiring from afar.
Sometimes the two of you might not have spoken for like a week, you knew in Bob's quiet times he liked to be alone and write a poem with his headphones on—so you’d let him do just that and admire from afar.
“Uh—can I change it up a little today?” Bob asked as he rubbed the back of his neck. The longer he kept you standing there, looking all kinds of perfect—the longer he had to work up the courage to ask you out. “If that isn’t too much trouble?”
“Sure thing Lieutenant Floyd.” You say almost delighted that you get to stay a little while longer. “What can I get ya this morning?”
“A Newspaper please? bacon, a fried or poached egg, whatever’s easiest and a slice of toast, long black too if the coffee is any good today.” The beans were always burnt, Bob thought to himself after having ordered them time and time again. And he knew if the cup was dirty you would just clean it with your shirt.
He couldn’t help but to wonder if you were his ideal girl, and what would happen if you dated in the real world. ‘Nah’ He shook the thought from his mind, he didn't think it would work. Bob wouldn't wanna risk what you have and have to tip 'cause of that.
“Coming right up—“ You nodded and placed your pen back in your bun and tucked your order pad into your apron. “I’ll bring your coffee out first.”
“Thanks.” It had been like this for months. The both of you were too afraid to make the first real move, so the move never came. Lieutenant Robert Floyd was one of your three regulars and the only one who’d managed to steal your heart. There was no way he ate here day in and day out just for the food—if he did he was crazy. But regardless you kept entertaining his foolishness. Wondering if he’d ever work up enough courage to just make a move.
“Alright, one black coffee for you Bob.” You wanted to say that the food wouldn’t be too far away but you knew Bob would know that you were lying. It always took forever.
“Amazing, thank you so much Y/n, I feel like I’ve been up since forever.” Bob sighed as you carefully poured him a cup of fresh coffee. Placing the freshly brewed pot down on the table as you mulled over your next question. It wasn’t like you to be so forward, but you simply had nothing better to do.
“Do you mind if I sit with you?” You asked as you watched the way Bob raised his eyebrows at your question. “I don’t mean to impose—I just don’t have an awful lot to be doing right now and I’d rather sit and talk then just think about talking to you from behind the counter.” Bob thought his head was going to explode with how hot he was running.
You? Sitting with him? Could he just give you his last name already?
“Uh—yeah no by all means.” Bob tried to hide the probably overbearing and possibly psychotic grin that threatened to consume his face as he watched you slide into the chair across from him. Sighing with relief that you were finally off your feet. “You work here every day don’t you?”
“Yep.” You popped the p as you let your chin fall into your hand as your elbow prompted you up on the table. “Feels like one big eternal shift.” You explained as Bob took a sip of his coffee. Hiding the fact he wanted to splatter at the bitterness. “I’m sure my diner delirium is nowhere near as exciting or as thrilling as being a pilot for the navy though.” You gestured down to Bobs flight suit—this had been the longest conversation the two of you had ever had and Bob thought his heart was going to beat through his chest:
He was infuriated with your smile, the effortless way it could be the brightest thing in the entire diner. He loved your laugh—for the very few times he’d been blessed with the sound of it. Surely it was the very sound that people were blessed with when they entered the gates of heaven. Then there was your hair. So uniquely gorgeous that he saw it in his dreams, dancing across the white satin pillow cases of Bob's bed.
“Oh I’m not a pilot.” Bob corrected you with a humble glint in his eye. Swirling baby blue oceans that completely captivated your heart. “I’m a weapons systems officer.” Just as you were going to ask for more detail, more information—the sound of the little orders up bell rang out through the empty diner.
“I’ll be right back with your food weapons system officer Floyd.” You beamed, sliding out and sauntering off towards the pass. Bob turned his attention around to follow you—his eyes lingered down from your neck to your back to the swell of your ass, he blushed a bashful hume of crimson red when he felt his flight suit rise in his crotch. You were perfect. His ideal girl and Bob didn’t even know you.
Bob had to pretend he was looking at the light fixtures above your head when you turned on your heels, his order in hand and folded newspaper under your arm.
“Orders up Flyboy—“ You chuckled as you sat back down. “So, what does being a weapons system officer entail?” No one had really asked Bob that question before, so as he looked down at the mediocre meal he’d ordered and chuckled softly to himself at how surreal this moment felt—he couldn’t help but to look at you like you hung all the stars in the night sky just for him. “What?” You smiled.
“Nothing—“ Bob beamed back at you, his cheeks flushed and ever telling. “It’s nothing.”
“Tell me what you're thinking right now.” You demanded through a grin so pure it stole Bob's heart, he watched as your hand crept across to steal a slice of slightly burnt toast off his plate. The moment you took a bite Bob knew he was in love with you—his mysterious diner waitress. Like you’d cast some sort of spell on his mortal body, Bob felt himself giving in, falling weak on his knees at the idea of spending every waking moment getting to know you more.
“I uh—I was just thinking that I think I’m in love with you.” You froze, not expecting the shy eyed man sitting across from you to expose himself so openly. It was endearing though. “I’m so sorry—that was really out of pocket.”
“No no!” You tried to hide the fact your head was filling with all the little scenarios you’d daydreamed about while working. Thinking of the future and what it would be like if Bob was really your future husband. “I uh, I don’t mind actually.”
“Really?” Bob let out a sigh of relief as he looked at you across the table with all the love in the world dripping from his baby face.
“Yeah, yeah I’m sure—“ You took another bite of the triangle but of toast before swallowing. “I think I might be in love with you too.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
“He used to come into mummy’s diner baby.” You explained. “When uncle Roger used to own it, before it was really good.”
“Dad says uncle Roger can’t cook to save his life.” Your daughter countered as you felt Bob come to stand behind you, his hand snaked up across your hip before he was kissing your cheek.
“Dad stands by that statement.” Bob added as he smiled against your skin, floral notes of jasmine and amber rose filled his senses. “He lost ten pounds from eating your uncle's food every day just so he could talk to mama.”
“Could have just asked me out on a date, Flyboy—“ You teased, turning to kiss your husband softly. Bob hummed a laugh against you as your daughter climbed into your arms.
“Ah, that would’ve been too easy.”
***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~
Leah’s 4k celebration 🎊
#Leah’s 4k celebration 🎊#bob top gun#bob floyd x y/n#bob floyd fic#top gun bob#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd imagine#robert bob floyd#bob x reader#robert floyd x reader
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Common Knowledge 4
Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
With your thesis proposal submitted and marked, the real work lies ahead of you. You’ve claimed your spot in the library, a stack of cue cards with your arguments laid out in columns. It’s the easiest way to sort out your information and narrow down your key arguments. It’s a bit messy but you like the visual diagram to parse out your own thoughts.
You receive a few shaded looks from those who pass by looking for a spot of their own. You don’t mind moving over if they do want to sit but none approach. You bend over the table and switch two cards. You’re standing, circling the table as you’re swept up in getting just the right flow.
You back up and hum. You grab another card, jotting down a new point to add and a sudden slam makes you jump. The thump of the large book on the table sends the cards scattering in a whirlwind. You sputter as you look up at the figure across from you.
You can’t hide your surprise. It’s been a week since the smoothie shop incident and not close to long enough. That man stands on the other side of the table smirking, his white eyes eerily calm but smug. What are the odds he’s a student here?
You shake your head and roll your eyes. You step forward and start gathering up the cards. Your dorm room bed would be just as good as a table. As you reach to swipe up a card, he grabs it first and reads your writing, letting out a scoff.
“Hmm, how cute,” he muses, “you’re trying.”
You ignore him. Whatever, he can keep the cards. You close up your books and slip them into your bag. He plants his hands on the table and leans forward, gaze boring into you.
“Running away again?”
“Do you not know how to take a hint?”
“As much as you,” he counters, “I just wanted to show you that I found a copy of my own.”
You glance at the book in the middle of the table and furrow your brow. Really? This is some weird battle you don’t want to fight. You blow out between your lips and keep tidying up your things. Your laptop is closed and slid away before you can nab it.
You grip the edge and try to pull it from his grasp. He easily dislodges it and tucks it under his thick arm. You hiss and look around, flabbergasted. You turn your frustration around and reach for that coveted book. He stretches his other arm in front of you, blocking you as he looms closer.
“Not so fast,” he holds his large hand up, “would you stop and listen?”
“I’m not interested in listening to you,” you puff out, “give me my computer.”
“Would you let me say what I came to say–”
“Bro, no. How did you even find– you know what? Don’t care. It’s weird. And creepy. Give me my computer and leave me alone. I’ll scream.”
“Relax, you’re being dramatic.”
“Dramatic? You want to see dramatic–”
“Would you stop?” His voice rises, drawing looks from a few other students and some hushes. His throat bobs as he peers around, “I’m trying to apologise, alright? I thought…” his eyes meet yours with almost a sheepish tint, “I’d buy you a coffee and we could talk about mythology.”
Your lashes flutter as you try to keep your eyes from rolling so far back they get stuck. You don’t know that you’ve ever met anyone so oblivious. College has introduced you to several characters but nothing like him.
Your mouth falls open and you shake your head. You step forward and latch onto your laptop. He lets you take it. You’re very aware he could keep it from you easily. For all his flaws, he is clearly in good shape.
“I’m trying not to laugh in your face,” you back up and put the book into your knapsack, “so I’ll be very honest and clear with you. You are the most rude, obnoxious person I’ve ever encountered. Free coffee couldn’t even make me spend a single second with you.”
He grits his teeth as his jaw squares, the cleft deepening as he tilts his head. His frustration is laced in confusion. His eyes search you.
“Oh,” is all he manages to get out.
“Right, so, goodbye.”
You swing your bag over your shoulder and snatch your jacket from the back of the chair. You go to step by him and he moves with you. You are actually about to scream.
“Can’t we start over?” He asks.
How many ways can you say no?
You look left and right and your eyes meet an unexpected pair. Oh, you’re not sure if that’s good. Professor Halfdansson raises his hand to give a small wave as he diverts his strut in your direction. You clamp your lips together and turn back to the man in front of you.
“I don’t think so,” you say bluntly.
“Ah, studying are we?” Halfdansson approaches, coming up perpendicular to you and Geralt.
“Uh,” you look between them as the professor gives a thoughtful look to the other man. “Just leaving.”
“This is a friend?” He wonders.
“No,” you answer as Geralt says “yes.”
You have to hold back a snort. You don’t get this. Any of it. Neither of these men seem to have any sort of self-awareness. At least not a concept of reality.
You bite your tongue and rein in the smart retorts flashing through your mind. You make yourself smile, or at least try to muster one. You take a deep breath.
“I have to go,” you say crisply. “Excuse me.”
Geralt is kept at bay by the presence of your professor, though Halfdansson appears astounded by your abrupt dismissal. You’ll have to apologise in class but most importantly, you need to get this goddamn paper done. Without a man hovering around and distracting you.
#geralt of rivia#dark geralt#dark!geralt#geralt x reader#dark!harald#dark harald#bookstore au#au#series#drabble#common knowledge#the witcher#vikings#harald finehair#harald finehair x reader
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Home is where you are | Javy Machado
Summary: Javy misses you and Jake plans him a big surprise.
Pairing: Javy Machado x fem!reader
Requested: Yes!
A/N: This has been sitting on my inbox for MONTHS and I'm so sorry. It's not as long as I wanted it to be, but it's freaking cute and i love it.
warnings: all the fluffs
Homesickness is something that Javy hasn’t experienced before. With his personality, he can fit everywhere and touch everyone's hearts, earning himself a place in every single group he encounters. He is the kind of guy you want to have near, always lighting up the room with his genuine smile. It was impossible for him to feel homesick when he was surrounded by a lot of people. Sure, he missed his home and his family, but he never had a feeling of longing. Not until he met you.
Falling for you was the easiest thing Javy Machado has ever done. How was he supposed not to? You were, and still are, the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on. You were even more beautiful on the inside. Always make him feel happy and giddy all over. It was like you two were a match made in heaven—two souls waiting for years to meet each other.
And that was what made him feel homesick.
You weren’t a Naval aviator. You had a normal job and a normal life outside the military world. He was deployed several times during the year, and communicating with you during those times was complicated due to the lack of a proper signal and the time zones. But you two made it work because, as complicated as it was, it was also worth it.
Javy was absolutely worth it.
He had been deployed for a few weeks before he was called back to Top Gun for a special detachment, and it was an honor to be part of an elite squad, sure, but he was supposed to come back to you once his previous deployment was over. And now he can’t.
“Jake, is everything okay?” You ask when you answer Jake’s phone. You’ve been friends with him since you started dating Javy, both of them are inseparable.
“Yeah, yeah, sweets, don’t worry. I’m actually calling you to tell you about our special mission.”
“You guys are on a special mission, isn’t that supposed to be a secret?”
Jake chuckles, and you can almost hear him rolling his eyes at you. “You and me, Y/n.”
“Oh, right. What mission?”
“Javy misses his fiancee, which happens to be you, and I was thinking that maybe we can give him a surprise.”
You sigh, remembering that neither you nor Javy know when he’s going to be back from Top Gun. “That surprise involves seeing him?”
“Oh, Mrs. Machado. It involves much more.”
“Guys, can you tell me what the fuck is happening? Well, can you tell me why Natasha is wearing a suit?” Javy begs for the hundredth time.
Jake pulled him out of his house this morning, not explaining why he was dragging him out of bed so early, and took him to a dozen different places before going to Mav and Penny’s house, where a brand new tuxedo is hanging in the closet door. The jacket is white, with dark navy blue pants that match the bowtie and pocket square in the same color.
“Oh my god, what’s this?” Javy walks closer to the tuxedo, his fingertips caressing the material. It’s exactly the same tuxedo he had in his closet back home, waiting for his wedding day.
“Doesn’t it ring a bell?” Mickey teases grabbing a glass of champagne from a table.
Well, it looks like the one I have back home.” Javy responds, his eyes never leaving the white attire.
“Wrong. It’s that one,” mutters Natasha while grabbing the hanger and leaving the clothes on the bed. “Get changed, Coyote. Your special mission starts in twenty minutes!”
She’s the first one to leave the room, with Rooster, Bob, Payback, and Mickey following right behind. Jake is about to leave when Javy calls him. “Is she here?”
Jake turns, a smirk on his face. “There’s only one way of finding out, buddy.”
It takes Javy exactly twenty minutes to get changed, make sure he looks presentable, and walk out of the building, watching how the backyard decoration has been changed to make room for all the chairs and decorations that form the aisle.
And right at the end of the aisle, waiting for him at the altar, it’s you.
“Shouldn’t I be waiting for her?” Javy whispers, afraid that speaking a bit louder might wake him up from this dream that he must be having.
Because there’s no way in hell that he is marrying such an angel as you in real life. This must be a dream.
“Well, we’ve decided to change the tradition a bit.” Payback explains, placing a hand on his shoulder. “After all, the groom waiting for the bride at the altar is a tradition that doesn’t have any romantic meaning. It was only to make sure that the poor guy didn’t run away.”
Javy’s eyes wander all over your figure, and he knows that there’s no other place he’d rather be right now. Well, right next to you, holding your hand and kissing you.
“Ready, buddy?” Jake asks Javy, although he knows the answer already.
“I’ve never been more ready.”
Hours later, when the party has calmed down a bit and Javy can take his wife away from the rest of the world for a few minutes, you two walk down the stairs that lead to the beach. Javy carries your heels in his hand, while your free hand, the one that isn’t holding Javy’s, grabs the tail of the dress to make it easier for you to walk on the sand.
“Did you like your surprise?” You say, your thumb caressing the wedding band that you bought without him knowing.
“It’s the best surprise ever, baby. I still can’t believe we’re married.” He says, the smile never leaves his face. He’s extremely happy.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t marry at home with all your friends and family. I could only get your parents to come,” you explain, your smile faltering because of the lack of guests.
Javy grabs your face between his hands, kissing the tip of your nose before pressing his forehead against yours. “Babe, my parents were here, and the daggers were too. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
“Yeah, that’s true. I guess I’ll have to start packing our things back home and sending them here. I’m now Mrs. Machado.” You joke, but there’s something real behind your words: you have to move all your things to Javy’s house at the base. It’s now your home.
“Will you be okay moving here?” He questions, afraid that this big change might upset you. He has friends, but he knows that for you, it’s going to be a bit difficult. He can introduce you to Bob and Natasha’s partner, he knows they’re absolute sweethearts and that you’ll get along with them.
“Yeah, of course. I’m a tough cookie. I can handle a change. But… what about you? Won’t you miss our home?”
“Honey, home is where you are. You are my home. And you make me feel like I’m at home every time. It doesn’t matter if we’re here or in a supermarket. You will always make it feel like home.”
His words make you tear up a bit, making him chuckle and kiss your tears away. “My, my, Mrs. Machado. I never thought you were a crier.”
“Shut up, you idiot! I’m emotional.” You whine, slapping his chest, which only makes him laugh more.
“It’s a very emotional day, baby. Want to go back, steal a bottle of champagne, and make out in Jake’s car?”
You raise an eyebrow after hearing his offer. “Jake is gonna kill us.”
“He fucked a random girl in my car back in the academy days. He owes me one.”
“He’s gonna sanitize the entire car after tonight.” You laugh, turning back to the path that takes you back to the house.
“That’s Jake’s problem, not mine.”
@purplevortexx
@novastories
@pono-pura-vida
@xoxabs88xox
#top gun#top gun maverick fanfic#top gun x reader#top gun fanfiction#javy coyote machado#javy machado#javy machado x you#javy machado x reader#javy machado fluff#javy machado fanfiction#top gun maverick
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Outside of the Fox
Chapter 25 of 30
2350 words
Y/N longs for a new life when the one she’d been living comes to an abrupt stop. Without much thought to those she is leaving behind, the little fox packs a backpack and disappears. She stumbles across the shelter and makes an interim home for herself while she works out exactly what she wants from her second chance.
Last
Airports are weird places. That's the only thing you can conclude as you try to navigate your way through the crowd. They never looked this way in the films.
You'd watched countless romcoms where people had just run freely all the way through the vast empty spaces. The reality is something much closer to one of the seven circles of hell. There are people everywhere, some sitting in seats, others on the floor, many just walking around getting in the way. It seems like a truly lawless environment, with many of society's rules abandoned in favour of self-preservation.
Poor Kookie looks like he is about to faint. The youngest member was hanging from Namjoon's back, having decided a piggyback would be the easiest way for him to get through this. Jimin checked in with him regularly, pulling faces and making jokes to try and keep him distracted. You can't help but feel overwhelmed by the atmosphere yourself.
Hoseok holds tightly onto your hand as he bobs and weaves through the crowd following after Jin and Taehyung as they lead your group to your departure gate. You had been promised that the gate would be much calmer than the main areas as they dragged you through as quickly as possible.
And they were right. With more than an hour to go until your flight, there were only a few other passengers milling around so you were all able to grab seats together in the corner. Jungkook physically decompresses as Namjoon sets him on the ground, although his eyes stay wide and vigilant as he appraises his surroundings. Yoongi pulls out his switch from his backpack and hands it across to Jungkook before cuddling into the chair next to him, looking about ready to take a nap.
You contemplate sitting on Jungkook's other side but Taehyung pulls you to him instead.
"Let me take you shopping in duty-free," He says
"I think Jungkook used your card to buy enough stuff this week." You point out.
"But I didn't buy you those things, not really." He pouts.
You roll your eyes and he takes this as an acceptance, linking his arm through yours and taking you off back in the direction of the crowds.
You peruse through the make-up sections, taking the brightest blushes you can find and dotting them onto his cheeks leaving him a mismatched mosaic of pinks. In return, he swatches random eyeshadows and wipes them onto your forearms. The attendants give you both dirty looks when neither of you actually select any products to buy, but none of them seem brave enough to actually interject.
Eventually, Tae takes pity on them, picking up some expensive skincare and makeup wipes to purchase. He ensures he has enough face masks and steam masks for the entire group and convinces you to pick out something extra for yourself. Even though you want to protest, you settle on a cute headband to make him happy.
He takes the bag of goodies from the saleswoman once he has paid and fishes the headband out in order to place it in your hair. His fingers brush tenderly through your hair as he places the little trinket carefully above your ear. His eyes lock with yours and he leans in like he is going to kiss you, but as his eyes close you can't help but giggle.
"I'm trying to charm you and you are giggling at me?" He asks, mock offended.
"Sorry... I couldn't help it, that patchy blush looks even worse close up." You shrug.
He swipes at his face with the back of his hand, succeeding only in making it much worse as the colours intermingle.
"Well if you closed your eyes to kiss like a normal person you wouldn't have seen it." He grumbles.
"Well, if I'd known you were about to kiss me maybe I would've." You say
"Well then, close your eyes," He tries again reaching out to tuck your hair as he had before.
Unfortunately, this time he is cut off by the tannoy system calling out for your boarding numbers. You take his hand in yours and hurry away from the store back to where you left the others.
"I'm never going to get my kiss." He pouts.
________
The others have gathered all the hand luggage and are waiting for you when you arrive. Turns out Taehyung had taken all of the tickets with you so they couldn't board. However, it seems to be by design when Taehyung reveals that you are all sitting in first class. The eight of you fill-up the double centre isle
Namjoon sits at the back, harrumphing to himself about how Taehyung has spent far too much money on this trip. Yoongi sits next to him to try and shut him up (He ends up just raising the centre wall to give himself some peace and quiet).
Hoseok parks himself in front of Yoongi, often kneeling up on his seat to talk with Yoongi over the top. Taehyung sits next to him, mostly because Jimin insisted he needed to spend the flight with Jungkook but also because they wanted to watch the same movies and they could talk about them.
And so you sat with Jin, working out nicely in your favour as both of you really just wanted to nap. You settled in quickly for the long flight, unravelling the provided blanket and draping it over your and Jin's laps. When Taehyung had suggested going to the beach you had thought he meant somewhere nearby, not a long-haul flight to the other hemisphere.
"You realise they give each of us our own blankets right?" He points out.
"Yeah, but this thing is massive." You say shaking the fabric. "Unless you want to put up the divider?"
"No, no this is fine. Once we've taken off the stewardesses can turn our two seats into one bed if you like, give us a more comfortable space?" He suggests.
It's clear he doesn't mean anything by it, but a blush creeps up your cheeks anyway. You don't get a chance to reply before the stewards are handing you a mimosa each and directing your attention towards a safety briefing. You watch intently as they go through the motions of showing you emergency procedures.
The aeroplane roars to life around you as it comes to the end of the taxi, you can hear the turbines wiring and your heart speeds up at the same pace. Jungkook whimpers behind you and Jimin tries to whisper words of encouragement to the man. You want to turn around and help but the seat backs are too high and you fear your face looks too concerned to provide any comfort anyway.
Jin glances over at you and takes in the way your knuckles are turning white from clasping onto the arms of your chair. He places his hand on top of yours, curling his fingers underneath your palm so you can hold onto him instead. He offers you a reassuring smile and you try to reciprocate.
"First flight?" He asks.
You nod in response, unable to speak as you feel the wheels lift from the floor.
"This is the worst part, after this you can barely feel that you're moving," He assures you. "Here, take this, it'll stop your ears from popping."
He fishes out a packet of gum and offers you a piece then takes one himself.
Eventually, the plane levels out as he promises and it is smooth sailing for a while. The stewardesses are quick to deliver meals to each of you and even quicker to take them away when you've finished. You are lying down in a nicely sized bed within an hour of take-off ready to sleep through as much of the flight as possible. Jin has himself propped up a little to read his book as you snuggle down and close your eyes.
"Sleep well Y/N," He says as you drift off.
You are rudely awoken a few hours later to the violent shaking of the plane. You try to shoot up straight into a sitting position but find yourself restricted by an arm across your waist. Jin pulls you closer to him.
"Don't panic, it's just turbulence," He whispers into your ear sleepily "It'll be over in a couple of minutes."
"Are you sure?" You ask.
"Of course I'm sure."
The plane dips dramatically and you find yourself clinging to Jin. He folds both arms around you and holds you as close as he can. Your stomach flips with each judder of the plane around you but Jin's arms remain firmly in place and his lips press to your forehead as he whispers nonsense to you as a distraction.
He is right of course, the turbulence is over as quickly as it began and the Pilots voice sounds over the P.A
"Sorry about that folks, it looks like we could be in for a few bumpy rides throughout the journey as we hit some particularly rough patches of weather. We should be over the worst of it for now though so please relax and we will let you know if we expect any further issues throughout the flight."
You lean back and look up at Jin finding his face mere centimetres from your own.
"Are you okay?" He asks,
"I think so."
"I'm glad, but know that you can cling to me any time turbulence or not," He winks.
"Good to know." You swallow thickly.
He holds you close for a moment longer and then releases you back to your side of the bed. You sit up and peer over the back of your chair to check on the others. Namjoon is standing up looking over everyone in the same way you are. Yoongi is watching him carefully. Taehyung and Hobi don't seem to have even paused their movies. And most surprisingly Jungkook doesn't seem to have even stirred as he holds Jimin close in their own little bed.
Namjoon catches your eye and you reassure him you are okay. He nods and settles back into his own chair and picks his book up where he left off. You lie back down and turn onto your side looking at Jin, his eyes already reclosed as he drifts off once more. You realise as your eyes drift towards the plumpness of his lips that your mind is drifting towards how they might feel against your skin.
It's been such a long time since you've been intimate with anyone and the kisses you'd been going a little stir-crazy with impure thoughts of late, so who could blame you for looking at any of the attractive men around you? Although some might call you greedy for staring at the only one not actively openly courting you.
"Can I help you?" He asks cracking one eye open when he feels your gaze.
"I was wondering..." He opens both eyes and waits for you to ask what's on your mind.
"I was wondering if you planned on pursuing a relationship with more than just Namjoon within the group."
He smiles in a way that suggests he knows what you are getting at but the answer he gives doesn't reflect that.
"Well I think it's obvious I have my eye on Kookie, or should I say he has his eye on me."
"Is that all?" You ask.
You move a little bit closer to him, hoping to get a much more pleasing answer.
"Well... I suppose I quite enjoy looking at Hoseok, and Taehyung is so charming. And I guess you aren't terrible to spend time with." He teases.
A hand reaches up to cup your cheek and he leans in towards you.
"Is this what you wanted," His breath ghosts against your lips.
Then the minuscule gap is closed. His kisses are lazy, although that could be the lingering edge of sleep. He sucks your lower lip between his, nibbling a little before releasing it and kissing you properly again. He repeats this over again until your lips feel bruised.
"That is exactly what I wanted." You say as he finally pulls away.
"Well, now do you want more? Because I think I want more."
He leans across you and presses a button you hadn't seen before. It raises a barrier between you and the aisle, just high enough for those passing not to look in and lights a do not disturb sign above you. He then presses the same control on his own side.
"Well that doesn't look at all suspicious to the outside," You comment.
"They'll just think we are sleeping,"
He doesn't give you a chance to reconsider before he starts mouthing at your neck, his body hovering over yours as bites tiny little bruises into your delicate skin. You place your hands on his shoulders feeling the way his muscles tense through his thin T-shirt. He rolls his hips against your side, his sweatpants seeming even thinner than the shirt, leaving very little to the imagination.
His lips find their way back to yours and your mind goes completely blank. One of his hands lifts the bottom of your shirt and begins to explore the bare expanse of skin until he reaches just underneath your breast. He cups your bare chest, his thumb running gently over your nipple making you shiver. You whine against his touch.
"If you can't be quiet we can't go any further." He chuckles.
"We probably shouldn't get any further than this anyway..." You point out.
"You're right, I haven't even gotten much further than this with Joonie yet... But this just feels so nice," He says, making a point of flicking your nipple with his thumb again.
"Maybe we should go back to sleeping,"
"If that's what you really want," He shrugs. "But I'm not removing my hand."
"I'm not asking you to."
He smiles contently and settles back onto his pillow, you wriggle in close and true to his word, and his hand remains firmly under your shirt for the remainder of the sleeping portion of the flight.
Next
Masterlist
Send me asks - doesn’t have to be fic related. Can be smutty, thirsty, fluffy, angsty, whatever you’re feeling regarding BTS. Can be literally anything doesn’t have to be BTS
#bts fic#bts smut#kpop smut#kpop fic#namjoon smut#jungkook smut#seokjin smut#yoongi smut#taehyung smut#jimin smut#hoseok smut#bts slow burn#bts hybrids au#hybrid bts#poly bts#bts poly#bts ot7#bts x reader
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I want to paint Sirius’ nails so bad and pull on his hair like it’s my job. You have no idea babe
okay so I don't know if this was a request but I made it one im sorry 😭 just a quiet night in with your boy <3 reader has long ish hair
"Stay still," you whisper, nervous as your boyfriend's warm hand moves over your shoulder. "Please."
"'M sorry, baby," Sirius says. He seems genuinely apologetic, words chased by cigarette smoke as he exhales, pushing a cloud of white out the corner of his mouth and away from your face.
"I don't want to mess up."
"It's okay," he says easily.
You're not so sure, a perfectionist even in the little things. Your hands tremble minutely, your concentration immense as you paint his freshly filed nails. You like doing his nails, like taking care of him, and especially like the bright colours he favours. You take his thumb into your hand, blotting a dark cherry purple over the smooth surface of his nail slowly.
One coat, then two.
"You want…." he offers the cigarette to you.
"It'll make my hands shake," you murmur.
"They're already shaking."
You shift your head, hair falling in your face. Sirius holds his cig between his lips and uses his free hand to move it from your eyes carefully.
"Thanks."
He hums around the last of his cig and then crushes the butt in the ashtray. You're sitting on the floor where he sits on the sofa, the coffee table in front of you covered in items from your small nail kit. You're twisted to face him and your sides ache with it.
"Other hand?" you ask.
He obliges quickly. You know he hates this part where his nails are wet and so his hands are indisposed. Especially in this position. His hands twitch, coveting your face or your hair or your arms, you know.
You try to be a little faster the second time around and end up taking double. You make a small mistake and frown deeply, quick to dip a cotton bud in remover and dab at his skin. It turns to a mess of stubborn colour.
"Oh, no."
"It's okay. You got it, take your time."
He comes to regret this as time stretches on, itching for something to do. You finally finish painting and shift up onto your knees. He looks like he might help you up and then annoyed when he can't, so you indulge him and set yourself over his spread legs, calves on either side of his thigh, flushing with heat all the while.
His smile is reward enough, lazy and breezy-happy.
"Hi," he says.
"Hi," you return.
"Forgive me for not grabbing you."
You wriggle on his leg. "No."
He opens his arms wide so that you can't smudge the polish and you take it as an opportunity to hug him close, adore him in a way he won't always allow. Your arms cross around his neck and the side of your nose presses to the skin below his Adam's apple, chest crushed to his chest.
"You okay?" he asks.
You nod, your nose bobbing over his throat.
"Thanks for doing my nails, love."
"Thanks for letting me," you say, nestling your face into him, feeling mushy soft with how much you like him.
The arm where most of your weight leans comes to cradle you, hand hesitant against your side. It's funny, in a way, because Sirius is hardly ever tentative with you these days. You laugh gently, a small huff of air.
"What's funny?" he asks, having felt it.
"Nothing."
"Don't believe you. Do me a favour? Light one for me?" he asks, nodding towards his tin of rollies.
You oblige, though you say, "You're chain-smoking."
"M'bored. Can't touch you."
You grin despite yourself and reach over his lap for a cig and his lighter. It's easiest to light it in your own mouth and you do, inhaling just a little to get it going before holding it to his mouth. He could take it – if he's careful, he could easily smoke it now without smudging anything – but he doesn't, content on being doted on.
You're content to dote. Everything works out.
You retrieve the ashtray and hold it in your other hand, flicking the smouldering end between drags for him. Eventually your fingers press against his lips, and he puckers a tiny bit more against them.
You smile. His nails are almost definitely dry by now, long quiet moments of your breathing and nothing more.
"You look pretty," you tell him, dropping the last of his cig in the ashtray and pushing it onto the coffee table.
He holds onto your arm as you lean over the table and then pulls you back. You take his face into your hands, rubbing your thumbs from the edges of his smile to the dips under his cheekbones.
"Do I?"
Your hands slink into his hair, raking through curled strands with care. Still, it's been hours since his shower and the curls at the back are tangled; you tug the ends.
He groans, his second hand finding your shoulder. His rings are cold.
You ignore the heated look he's giving you in favour of his dark mop, brushing and stroking with your fingers until you find another snag. He hisses this time and pulls you in, arms tight on your back and chest smelling of warm cologne and lingering smoke.
"My nails are dry, you know," he warns.
You giggle to yourself, the nervous excitement born from his threat bubbling up in a wave.
"You think it's funny, huh?" His voice is a murmur and still echoes through the room.
You're so bliss-happy, your lips moving against his chest as you protest, "No…"
"No, of course you don't. My baby'd never be so cruel."
You scratch your nails lightly over his scalp and bask in the goosebumps that ride the curve of his neck, the bare skin of his upper arms. This close, you can hear the beat of his heart and the change in its rhythm.
Oh, you think. You pull his hair once more to be sure, positively revelling in his quick gasp.
There's a stillness between you both for a moment. He encourages your head from his chest to meet your gaze, eyes creased in bemusement and something worse.
"You're done, sweetness," he says.
You work a strand of his hair around your index finger, grinning.
#sirius x you#sirius orion black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius x reader fluff#sirius black imagine#marauders era#marauders#sirius black drabble
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Secret Santa: Part One
12 Days of Christmas: Day 10
Plot: When you and the squad end up taking part in a Secret Santa exchange. The gifts you receive end up being love confessions. But who are they from?
[Bob's Ending] [Fanboy's Ending]
[Hangman's Ending] [Rooster's Ending] [Maverick's Ending]
Pairing: Gn!Reader x ??? (Choose your own character ending)
*Possible Endings: Bob, Fanboy, Rooster, Hangman & Maverick
Words: 2.9k
A/n: Bob and Fanboys endings will be posted Christmas Eve. And the other three will come out Christmas Day. I will add the links to this fic once they are posted.
-
Walking towards the training room, you heard the familiar voices of the other pilots. You had been reunited with the dagger squad, and some other pilots you knew from the past. Another mission, another training program, trained once again by Maverick.
Through the grueling training and test flights, you were enjoying your time being with the others again. Though you had to admit you were excited about one, more than the others, but you were sure they didn't know that.
As you entered the room, your eyes cast over the group. Hangman and Rooster were bickering as usual, while Bob and Phoenix rolled their eyes. Fanboy, Payback and Coyote watched silently, sharing the occasional look.
Seeing you enter Jake turned in his seat "Y/n, perfect, perhaps you could solve our little problem."
"Nope, no." You shook your head as you took your seat, "Do not drag me into whatever is going on, I don't want to be a part of it."
Phoenix and Bob snickered as Jake leaned over"Come on, I think you'd be on my side."
"Like hell they would." Rooster broke in.
You shook your head with a soft smile as you saw Maverick enter. "Pilots, good morning." He said with a cheery voice.
His eyes ran over you and the others as he walked past. In his hands was a Santa hat.
As he stopped at the podium he looked at all of you in silence for a short moment. "Before we start our training today, I thought we might have a little Christmas fun."
You quirked your brow and sat up a bit, you saw the others do the same.
"Sir?" Bob asked with a curious tone.
"Secret Santa!" He said with a smile.
A small murmur went over the group as Maverick shook the hat in his hands. "In this hat are all of our names. You will each pick a name, and over the next three days, starting tomorrow, you have to give your person three gifts."
"Three?" Jake spoke up.
"Yes, three. On day three, by the end of the day, you must give me a slip of paper with the name of the person you gifted, and the name of the person you think is your gift giver. If you guess correctly, you get a day off of training. If you are wrong. You will be cleaning up after the Christmas party."
A small groan came from the group as you all pictured what mess would be left behind after that.
"There are two rules. One, don't get caught leaving your person a gift, or you are disqualified. Two, do not tell anyone who your person is."
As Maverick walked around holding the hat out for everyone to take a name, your eyes scanned over everyone. You wonder who would be the easiest person to buy a gift for. Your eyes lingered on one person as you thought of a thousand things you could get them.
"If you get yourself, grab a different name." He said softly as he continued down the line.
Getting to you, he gave you a small smile as you reached in. Pulling out a slip of paper you opened it to read 'Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace.' You smiled softly before closing the paper and shoving it in your pocket.
After everyone had chosen their names, the class went on like usual, though you knew everyone was a bit distracted, thinking of what to get their chosen person. Though it wasn't a competition, a familiar buzz ran through the room.
You tried not to look at Phoenix, not wanting to give away she was who you got. But you did glance around, wondering if you might find someone looking at you.
You would be lying if you didn't have someone particular in mind as to who you hoped might be your secret Santa. The same person you thought would be the easiest to buy for. Though, the luck of them getting you was pretty small.
By the end of training you had enough time left to go out and try to find a gift for Phoenix. You had thought long and hard about the types of gifts she might like, but you still struggled. Knowing she had a thing for antique and vintage objects, you thought going to an antique store might do the trick.
Walking through the store, you looked at various objects, before finally landing on an old hourglass carved out of wood. It was certainly unique, and looked old. Buying it, you hoped she would like it. Knowing you wouldn't really know for a few days.
Making it back to the base after another hour of shopping you felt relieved, having bought three gifts for Phoenix, and some wrapping paper.
As you walked down the corridor, you saw Bob walking towards you. He smiled and his eyes caught on the wrapping paper in your hands.
"Don't tell me you got all your gifts already?" He asked with mild surprise.
You smiled "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't" You said jokingly as you continued past him, seeing him smile at you as he nodded in understanding.
As you rounded the corner, you looked back, seeing him disappear around the corner. 'I bet he's a great gift giver' You thought to yourself as you made your way back to your room.
Unpacking your shopping bags, you looked at the gifts you got Natasha. The hourglass, a gift card for one of her favorite shops she could never convince herself to buy something from, and a Phoenix pendant necklace you managed to find by chance in a cute shop near the beach. You had almost jumped in excitement when you saw it.
After wrapping the gifts, you finally went to sleep, your last thoughts being about who may have picked your name from the hat.
--- --- ---
During your break in between training the next day, you snuck Natasha's first present out of your room and quickly made your way to her room. Setting the present down in front of her door, you rushed back to your room. Breathing a breath of relief as no one spotted you.
As you rounded the corner to your room, you stopped as you spotted a bouquet of flowers placed at your door.
"Wha-" You looked back down the hall in bewilderment.
You had only been gone for a few minutes, and you hadn't seen or heard anyone else.
"Sneaky" You whispered to yourself as you walked up to your door.
Picking up the flowers, you smiled at them. It was a beautiful bouquet of Gardenias in an ornamental Christmas colored vase. You smelled them as you made your way into your room.
You knew it was a well known fact that you loved flowers, and often knew the meaning behind them, enjoying the symbolism of each individual flower. You were teased by some of the others about this in the past, which didn't really narrow down who might be your secret Santa.
"Gardenias" You muttered to yourself as you tried to remember the meaning behind them.
Seeing a small note in the flowers, you pulled it out to see a short typed note.
'There's importance in the symbolism.'
You smiled as you remembered saying this once when the others were teasing you about why you were so determined to get the right flowers for someone as a gift.
Thinking back to that moment, you tried to remember who was in the room. Maverick, Hangman, Rooster, Bob, Fanboy and Coyote. Well, that doesn't narrow it down much.
"Appreciation? No, that's not it. Joy!" You knew that was at least one of them.
Setting the flowers on your table, you pulled out your phone to look it up. As you scrolled through the meaning of gardenias, your eyes caught on one particular meaning.
"Secret Love?" You asked softly, your heart beating heavily in your chest.
No, it could be the 'you're lovely' meaning. Just a friendly message. Not an admission. Unless it was?
As someone popped into your head, you felt a mild sense of hope, before you pushed it away. It might be a mistake. They may not have seen the meaning of gardenias as secret love.
You decided not to focus on this too much. Not until you knew more, maybe the next gift would tell you?
Hearing your alarm, you made your way out of your room for your next test flight. You took one last look at the flowers as you went.
As much as you tried, the idea of the flowers left for you being a confession stuck in your mind. You couldn't help but look at the others, wondering if it could be any of them.
You had hopeful thoughts for one, but that was all it was. Hope. There wasn't anything that made it seem obvious that they had feelings for you. Nor had there been from any of the others.
You were close to all of them, good friends. But secret love? You really weren't sure.
--- --- ---
The next day the pilots were abuzz with talk of their presents. Each trying to trick their Secret Santa into giving themselves away. Everyone eyed each other with suspicious gazes.
Natasha briefly mentioned the hourglass, and you could tell she had liked it. That was all the gratification you needed.
You kept your present to yourself, knowing that everyone would tease you about the flowers. Asking what their meaning was. You didn't want to out the meaning in case it was a mistake. So you played coy, only making everyone else more curious.
"Maybe their secret Santa forgot to give them their present?" Fanboy asked as he eyed you, his chin resting on the back of the chair in front of him.
You smiled softly at him and made a motion of a zipper across your lips as you looked to the front of the class as Maverick entered.
"Alright everyone, I know you are all talking about your secret Santa's Anyone get caught leaving a present?"
The was silence among the crowd and Maverick smiled "Good, stealth is important, I'd be disappointed if anyone got caught."
You were nervous to head back to your room after training. Expecting another present to be left for you. There was an odd sense of suspense, that you weren't sure was based around excitement or dread.
As you rounded the corner, and your eyes locked onto your door, you felt an odd pang in your chest as you saw nothing sitting at your door. Maybe they hadn't had time to leave it? Maybe they changed their mind on the prssent?
Getting to your door, you opened it, accepting that you were a bit disappointed. As you stepped into your room, you flinched as a small box fell from your door and bounced off your head, landing on the ground.
"What the hell?" You asked perplexed as you looked up at your door, seeing a small piece of tape, had been holding the box there. "How the hell-" You mumbled off as you reached down and grabbed the box.
You looked over at the window, wondering if they used it to get in. Or maybe they got the key?
Opening the small box, your heart was racing. Would this present give away another secret? Would it confirm or deny the meaning of the flowers? And why tape it to the door?
Seeing a small chain, you grabbed it and pulled it out, revealing a small glass apple on the end. It was cute, but you wondered why they chose it of all things.
Seeing a piece of paper in the box, you pulled it out. Taking a deep breath as you opened it.
Another typed out message.
'Did you know in Ancient Greece, to throw an apple at someone was a declaration of love?'
Your breath caught in your throat as you read over the message again and again. To throw an apple? So the rigged the box to fall on you as though they were throwing it at you?
You wanted to laugh, but your heart was hammering too heavily. You sat on your bed and looked over at the gardenias. So it did mean secret love. That wasn't a misunderstanding.
As you sat there, thinking it over, more realizations came to mind.
The person who got you happened to be in love with you, and was now using the secret Santa exchange as a way to tell you.
You let out a long drawn out breath. You were touched, and excited, yet nervous. There was only one person out of all the pilots these gifts would really mean something from. If it was any of the others, could you ever feel the same?
Who would know about Ancient Greece? You wondered. It definitely seemed like some odd fact Bob, Rooster or Fanboy might pick up at some point. Hangman could be a secret romantic. Maverick was playing the game too and he knew a lot about random things.
You felt an overwhelming sense of anxiety wash over you. Lying down you stared up at your cieling as you held the small apple necklace to your chest. It wasn't obvious who it could be. Would it be an insult to this person to keep hoping it was one specific person?
It would only hurt you more if you kept hoping it was them, and you were wrong.
Maybe the third gift would give it away. Sitting up, it suddenly donned on you that you needed to leave Natasha her second gift.
"Shit." You muttered as you looked over at envelope with the gift card. I could slip it into her locker, you thought. Or slip it under her door.
This secret Santa exchange took such a different turn than you were expecting, and you really didn't know how to act.
Looking at the clock, you saw it was nearly time to head out. You were all heading out to get dinner. You'd take the envelope with you, hoping to find a moment to slip it into her bag or car sometime during the night.
And maybe you could gather some hints about who might be your secret...admirer?
--- --- ---
As you walked across the tarmac the next day, your eyes landed on the person walking up to you.
"Nice time." Rooster said as he slowed in his step.
"Thanks, think you can beat it?" You asked with a teasing tone.
"I know I can." He winked before continuing past you and towards his jet.
You smiled and shook your head softly as you headed towards the locker room. After a long day of training, you were finally done.
You even managed to slip the last gift for Phoenix into her bag this morning. Having slipped the envelope under her door the previous night once you got back from the dinner.
During said dinner, hen the topic of secret Santa came up, you tried to pay attention To hints of who might be your secret Santa. But you learned nothing, everyone was keeping it close to their chests.
Today was the last day of the Secret Santa exchange. By eight this evening you had to give Maverick a slip of paper with your guess on it. You had yet to receive your third gift, and had yet to figure out who it was.
Opening your locker, you watched as an envelope fell to the floor. You looked around, seeing and hearing no one else in the room. Picking it up, you opened it, with your heart beating faster than before.
The third gift, what would it be? A full length confession? A gift card?
As you pulled two slips of paper out, your mouth opened slightly in surprise.
One slip was a ticket to a Christmas festival behind held about an hour away tomorrow night. You had wanted to go, but the tickets sold out too fast.
The second piece of paper was a short note, once again typed out.
'I have the other ticket, find me there.'
You stared at the paper in contemplation. So they had every intention of you finding out who they were after all. 'Find me there.'
It had to be someone who knew you wanted to go to the festival. Who did you mention it to?
Thinking back on it you sighed. Five of them knew about the ticket. That hardly narrowed it down. Though you were still aware that that specific someone always on your mind was one of them.
Tucking the ticket and note back into the envelope you put it in your duffle. You needed to decide what to do.
Not only who to guess, but whether or not you were ready to find out who they were. To find out who apparently had hidden feelings for you.
Your mind was heavy with uncertainty as you headed to Maverick's office at the end of the day. As you knocked on the door and handed him the paper, your heart was never steady.
You didn't know who you would find at the festival tomorrow, but you knew who you wanted it to be. Whether or not it was them, you would go, you had to. And if it was someone that you didn't have feelings for, well, you would deal with it then. No matter what.
Even with the nerve wracking thought it was unrequited love you might be finding at the festival, the hope that it was not unrequited, that it was a shared feeling, hidden between the two of you, made it worth the risk.
You just hoped you still thought that tomorrow.
xx End xx
General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry
Top Gun Taglist: @malindacath, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @sarcastic-sourwolf, @stargirl-05, @persephonesportal, @springflwer07, @pockyandme, @iceman-kazansky, @soultrysworld, @averyhotchner, @linkxneptune, @creativitybeware, @callsignmaverick5, @phoenix1389
Hangman/Rooster Taglist: @readingwithatorch,
#Top Gun: Maverick#Top Gun Maverick#Secret Santa story#choose your own ending story#top gun imagine#top gun x reader#robert 'bob' floyd x reader#mickey 'fanboy' garcia x reader#jake 'hangman' seresin x reader#bradley 'rooster' bradshaw x reader#pete 'maverick' mitchell x reader#secret santa part one#tg:m#top gun oneshot#top gun one shot#top gun fic#top gun maverick imagine
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https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/712315619062808577/imagine-robyn-dressing-up-all-sexy-for-joffrey-as?source=share
Can I get a full request smut writing for this ask!! Please? I've been missing slutty robyn
AN: Hi, I hope you like it x
NSFW
Gods, Robyn wondered not for the first time why she bothered to make any effort with her husband to be. It was no wonder she sort out such pleasures somewhere else but she was trying to be better. She could do this. The soft red matched those thick locks of hers perfectly as they cascaded down her back. Her painted nails were blood red as they moved down the staircase she walked.
She tried her hardest to ignore the eyes on her; the ones that should not be on her. It seemed the one who should be watching had his attention elsewhere. It was nothing new, Robyn thought as she continued to focus on the task at hand even as she subtly began to rub her thighs together at the sight of her father-in-law to be in that suit. Gods, was he always that big?
Still, she could not get so distracted. A soft, subtly shake of her head had Jaime stepping back from taking her delicate hand. He was usually the easiest to get rid of, she thought to herself whilst moving into the room. Robyn’s annoyance only seemed to rise some more as she was completely ignored by Joffrey as his cups were refilled and downed.
“I see my son still has no manners.” Robert’s deep voice whispered into her ear as he moved from behind her. His hand was subtly resting on her hip now as the dress was tugged up. Still, Robyn kept her ground and only looked ahead. “Hmm, are you trying to be good?” He continued; leaning in. He was far too close for this to be proper.
Robyn supposed he had been closer…they all had. “No..I don’t think you know how to be good.” Robert purred. His hardening cock brushed against her from behind as Robyn gulped. Her eyes darkened in desire as she began to chew on her bottom lip. She could feel her stomach begin to tighten in anticipation.
No, she would be stronger, she thought to herself even as her body was humming. It seemed Robert knew of her struggle as he smirked and slowly stepped away. His larger hand brushing over her arse for a moment whilst Robyn only stared ahead. Joffrey’s attention as ever not coming onto her as he downed another drink.
—- TYWIN —-
His fingers were tangled in her locks of hair as Tywin only pulled her closer. Robyn was gagging around his fat, throbbing cock as she moaned and whined against him. The vibration had Tywin groaning; his hips thrusting for a moment. “Fucking whore…” He grunted out as he kept her against his still clothed stomach after having made her strip her clothings.
Gods, this was not what she had wanted, Robyn thought as she fought against rubbing her thighs together. She was supposed to be just for Joffrey tonight. Still..this did not count, right? Only her mouth was being used. Robyn tried to defend herself as she gagged so prettily around his fat cock once more as his thrusts only quickened.
Those doe eyes of hers slowly looked up to the Old lion as his face was screwing up easily with the pleasure she gave him. Tywin moaned even more as he stared down; watching as her hot mouth swallowed him. His hold in her hair continued as he bobbed her up and down. Her drool is already dripping down his length now.
“If only he could see you now.” Tywin always enjoyed taunting her. It seemingly got him off quickly and hot. Robyn whined and her tongue slowly licked at his leaking, mushroom head as she moaned and sucked. “Fuck, that’s it..” He tried to keep himself calm but the intense pleasure was soon ripping through him.
He kept her against his stomach as his cock pushed deeper. His cum easily flooded her mouth as she whimpered and moaned. Her tongue slowly moved over his length as she still sucked on him. Her eyes rolled back as he groaned out her name. Tywin began slow strokes as her body shook with growing pleasure.
– ROBERT–
Robyn had only rested on the counter for a moment; still completely bare as Tywin left with a slap on her arse. She should have known better. “Oh, is this a treat for me?” Robyn had not noticed her father in law to be moving in behind her. She had forgotten this was his bathroom. “Fucking creamy as ever.” He purred as his larger hand cupped her weeping pussy.
“Robert…I…” The words hardly escaped her before his fat, leaking cock was pushing in. her toes were curling as her eyes rolled. The pleasure that had been rising inside her with Tywin’s cock in her mouth was now pushing over. Her inner thighs were completely soaked with her wetness as she whimpered and moaned his name at the delicious stretch.
He groaned and watched the sight of her soft, soaked lips parting for him as he only pushed deeper. “Still so tight.” Robert purred; his larger hands beginning to palm at her arse. He spread her cheeks apart to watch the view. Her legs were shaking as he bottomed out. Those soft, ample breasts of hers pushed against the counter.
“Robert…ah-ah.” His hand snaked around her stomach. Those thicker fingers brushed over her too sensitive clit. The touch alone was enough to push Robyn over the edge. She began to squirt around his fat cock as he pounded away. “Don’t…not inside…” She began to babble out as his hand grabbed at her hair.
Of course, he did not listen. He pushed deeper and his cum was flooding her creamy pussy. She collapsed onto the counter as Robert pounded away. His larger hand on her hip as he kept her still. The sounds of her moans muffled as she bounced back and forth on him before his thrusts were becoming sloppy.
–JAIME–
Robyn should have known better to stay in such a state. She had only wanted to wash herself under the warm water. It seems she was not escaping her lovers tonight; no matter how hard she tried. Jaime’s soapy hands were palming at her heavy breasts as he pushed her against the shower. The sound of their bodies slapping against each other echoed around the room.
“Jaime…we..I need to get back..” Robyn softly gasped out as she rocked back and forth. Her mind was so hazy from the pleasure. Her eyes were rolling back as he only chuckled into her ear. “Hmm, we both know you don’t take long to push over the edge.” Jaime taunted some more and she knew it was his father he got it from.
She hated how right he was and she knew the prideful lion would think it was him alone and not the two who had pushed their cum inside her. Robyn only whined; her legs shaking some more as Jaime pushed deeper. His fat cock curving to hit against her spongy spot with ease. Again and again as her wetness dripped down his length.
Her soaked, creamy pussy began to gush around his throbbing cock now. Her eyes rolled back as he leaned close. Their lips passionately captured each other as she whimpered and moaned; drooling once more. His tongue pushed in and began to suck on her own as her legs could only shake some more. Still, Jaime pounded away.
“So much better than her…so good. Fuck…” He babbled into her ear as Robyn could only collapse. Her hands reached for anything to hold onto as her sweet pussy was soon full of his cum. There was too much and was already falling down his length but he still pushed deeper. Her mind began to soften once more.
–TOMMEN–
“Oh, my baby boy. Hmm, so good to me.” Robyn whispered down to him. Her soft, graceful hands moving up and down his bare, muscled chest. Tommen could only whimper; his fat cock pushed in her warmth and any thoughts he had were leaving him. The praise falling from her lips was enough to nearly push him over the edge.
She smirked as his fat cock twitched inside her. Hmm, he was so precious, she thought whilst quickening her movements. Her soft, sweet breasts had escaped from her dress once more and were bouncing. Tommen couldn’t keep his eyes off them as he tugged on the ropes she had wrapped around his hands. “Good boy..”
The wet squelching of her creamy pussy echoed around the room once more as did the sounds of their bodies slapping against each other. He had already stuffed her full of his cum when she had jumped on him. It was why she had to tie him up; he was always too delicate. His body was shaking as he felt another climax building.
Robyn giggled out; her head falling back as her own pleasure was making its presence known. She was bouncing on him now whilst chasing her own release. Tommen was babbling beneath her; eyes rolling back as she began to squirt. Her sweet, creamy pussy clamped down on his fat cock as he cried out in pleasure.
“Yes..yes, that’s it..” Robyn cried out; her orgasm ripping through her just as he was cumming inside her once more. She was so full; too full. Her wetness and his cum, and others were dripping down his length as she leaned closer. Their noses brushed together as she smirked. “Hmm, ready for more?” She couldn’t help but tease.
#slutty modern robyn#requests#robert baratheon x reader#tywin lannister x reader#jaime lannister x reader
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