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serverusslaype · 6 months

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Shameless AU - Jealousy

Severus Snape x professor!reader one-shot

Masterpost & other things!

guys remember i asked about whether you'd be interested in a jealous scene? well, i chose to do it in an AU sort of thing, where reader is a Slytherin instead. so special thanks to @caster-of-puppets for that idea! this isn't long, it's just a little one-shot, but yeah. i wrote this a while ago and i decided to finish it just now after my brain said no to writing part 15 fml. i just couldn't think of how to start it.

so, i hope you enjoy this. :)

warnings: slightly nsfw near the end, so minors, please, DNI!!

Dinner had just finished, and most of the students had filed out of the hall, apart from a few stragglers. You, Ben and Flitwick were currently engaged in a conversation, though, it was moreso just Ben and Flitwick talking. You had zoned out a while ago, the constant drone of Ben bragging about his Ministry job was enough to send you to sleep. It was surprising that Flitwick hadn't made some sort of excuse to drop out of the conversation to save his sanity, perhaps he enjoyed such dull and tedious chatter.

As you stood beside Ben, your hands were clasped together in front of you, bored eyes darting aimlessly around the Great Hall. You found yourself admiring the stone statues, until Ben's hand curled around your waist, pulling you closer to him, his fingers sitting dangerously close to where Severus's fingers had been that night. Your muscles stiffened slightly at the sudden touch.

All of a sudden, a creeping feeling of being watched climbed up your spine, and within seconds, your confused eyes were searching around the Great Hall, soon landing on a pair of very familiar, deep, dark ones. They burned into you a thousand hot needles, setting your skin ablaze.

There he stood, lingering beside a rambling Filch with hands tucked behind his back, sharp eyes determinedly stuck on you like a glue trap, darting down towards the hand that tightened around your waist. His face was pale, daunting and almost frightening with the way he was glaring at the two of you with deathlike eyes.

Was he... jealous?

You daringly decided to test the waters. With a tilt of your head, you kept your curious eyes on Severus and leant into Ben, allowing your hands to unclasp themselves and rest atop of Ben's one. Immediately, Severus's jaw twitched and his fists balled beneath the dramatic waterfall of his black cloak. A tiny, cheeky smile picked at the corners of your lips as you relished in his reaction, a warm, tingling sensation pooling in your stomach. Was it toxic that you were getting off on this? Perhaps.

You glanced back to Flitwick, shuffling in your spot as you offered him a kind smile, your eyes darting back to where Severus had stood. Though, only Filch remained. You frowned. Shit, did that piss him off? No, surely not, he knows you only want him, and not Ben... right?

"Um, excuse me, I'll be back in a bit." You said with a forced smile, glancing between Ben and Flitwick. They quickly returned it, still deeply invested in conversation. You had to force yourself not to roll your eyes at the pair. Seriously, is a job at the Ministry that interesting? Jesus.

Slinking away with a huff, you slipped out through the door in the corner of the Hall, shutting it quietly. Before you were even five steps down the corridor, a rough hand latched onto your arm and pulled you into a shadowed corner, your back slamming against the stone wall. That well-known scent of sweet wine, smoke and fresh books surrounded you, and you instantly knew who had dragged you aside.

Severus stepped in front of you, his black cloak sweeping behind him. Those large, unyielding hands held your arms captive beside your torso as his wicked black eyes burned into yours furiously. You suddenly felt incredibly short in his presence.

"Do you think you're clever, acting like that in front of me?" Severus's deep voice rumbled through you, his fingers squeezing around your arms in a vice-like grip.

"Like what?" You asked, voice quiet and soft, painting an innocent expression upon your face. Severus's lip twitched irritatingly at your answer, and he stepped forwards so your bodies were touching.

"You know exactly what you were doing, you stupid girl," Severus whispered harshly, pushing his face impossibly close to yours. His hot breath tickled your cheeks, and you found yourself blushing, a pretty shade of crimson blossoming across your soft cheeks.

"So what if I was?" You whispered back, your twinkling eyes fixed to his.

"You're dancing on a very dangerous and thin line, Miss L/N." Severus uttered, tongue clicking as he stared down at you, nostrils flaring as his breaths became more desperate and ragged.

"Am I?" You taunted him, inching your face forwards, grazing your nose against his. You heard his breath hitch, and it sent an excited shiver speeding down your spine. A mischievous, toothy grin spread across your face at his lack of control.

"You're much too bold for a girl of your age." He muttered and swallowed thickly, evidently trying to get ahold of his

"Maybe you're just losing your touch, professor." You whispered, shifting your head so your lips were beside his ear; teeth scraping against his lobe tantalisingly. A muffled and broken groan caught in his throat. Severus hated to admit it, but something about you calling him by his title made his stomach hot. "Cat got your tongue, Severus?" You blinked slowly as you brought your head back from the side of his face, dilated eyes staring up into his heavy-lidded ones. Evidently, he was slowly losing control.

"Hush," Severus hissed, pressing a hand over your mouth. You couldn't help but feel a tad turned on by it. "I can't bear to hear you say one more thing."

Slowly, you reached a hand up, prying his fingers from your lips, "And why's that, professor?" You purred. He growled at the name, slipping his hand behind your head, greedily burying his fingers in the locks of your hair. The softness of it made him groan, and suddenly, he was imagining what it'd be like to fuck you with a fistful of your hair. Perhaps you'd listen then.

Severus clenched his jaw, "I'm not sure you'd like my answer." He said lowly, almost like a warning. His black eyes flicked over your soft features, silently admiring you. He'd never witnessed such beauty, and he sure as hell wasn't going to miss the opportunity to drink you in like a delicious wine.

"Try me." You whispered and lifted a hand to grab at the edge of his cloak, tugging him towards you as if to encourage him. And if that wasn't enough, you boldly stood on the tips of your toes to press a light kiss to his jaw.

Severus was teetering on the edge of a very bad decision, and the fact that you had your hands on him wasn't helping his case - it felt as if you were right behind him, pushing him, desperately trying to make him fall off of it. In all his years of practicing self-discipline and control, never had he come across such a tempting and alluring individual such as yourself. Severus felt as if you were some sort of test - perhaps this was all in his imagination.

"You know you want to," you purred again, pressing your parted lips upon his jawbone, "show me what Severus Snape is truly capable of." Teasingly, you nipped at his pale skin with your teeth, and that grounded the wizard. No, no, this was most definitely real.

Before you could pull your head away from his, Severus crashed his lips against yours hungrily, and you melted into his touch like an ice cream left in the sun. He had you pressed against the stone wall, lips locked with yours in an intense, fiery fight. A large, cool hand flew to your hip and pulled you against his strong body. Despite being dressed, you could feel every outline of his figure, and you couldn't help but selfishly reach a hand down to feel his torso. Severus groaned at your touch, and it felt like his body was on fire.

He needed you, and now.

He had to force himself to pull his lips off of yours, and you reluctantly obliged, your eyes opening and gazing up at his like a lost, lovesick puppy. "My office. Now." Severus ordered breathlessly as his hand slid up from your hips to your arm, his fingers wrapping around it with a tight grip. He tugged you along with him as he suddenly set off into a quick walk.

"Look how eager you are," you cooed tauntingly, a smirk growing on your lips as you let Severus lead you, "I knew you'd cave. So weak." That crude smirk turned into a proud grin, though it was quickly dropped as Severus whipped around, his black hair swishing with him.

You gasped as you were shoved backwards, hitting the wall with a soft thud. It wasn't a hostile shove, but rather a show of dominance from Severus - which was rather unusual. Apparently, you brought out the hidden, dark side to him. Something you were very, very eager to see and experience.

A bashful smile crept onto your lips as you gazed up at Severus with wide eyes, far from scared. This should have enraged him, however, it intrigued him instead. His eyes narrowed into thin slits as he glowered down at you with a scowl, a tempting tingle settling between your legs.

Severus leaned down, pushing his face into yours, and you tilted your head downwards slightly though still keeping eye contact. "I'm going to ruin that audacious, pretty little mouth of yours." He muttered with a wicked promise, lifting a hand to grasp your jaw, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitched at his touch. "Perhaps then you'll learn when to speak." Severus tutted, pausing for a moment to glide his fingers down your neck, eliciting a shiver of goosebumps to litter your burning skin.

Without further ado, Severus's hand returned to your arm, and he tugged you away again, in the direction of his office. You were sure that after he had his way with you, you'll have learned a lot more than just learning when to speak...

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brummiereader · 4 months

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PREVIOUS PART MASTERLIST

Don't Fear The Reaper (Part Three/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: After a restless night and chaotic start to your day, you arrive late for work. Unfortunately for you, your day of misfortune doesn't end there when Tommy's jealousy becomes uncontainable and he calls you into his office for some stern words and questioning as to where exactly your priorities lie.

Warnings: Language, angst, fluff, stalking, obsessive behaviour, supernatural themes, dark romance, manipulation of time, dark!tommy (This is a dark series with heavy potentially triggering undertones, please read the warnings before continuing)

Word Count: 4164

Authors Note: "Sweet Afton's" are a brand of cigarette seen in the show, smoked by Tommy. The two other brands of cigarettes mentioned in this chapter were also popular at the time. Sorry for being so late posting this part everyone. I hope you enjoy it!

How long had you been awake? A simple question anyone could ask themselves but a wasted one on you as you frantically rushed past your granddad through the cramped hallway, sending him no more than a faint smile as a greeting the very next morning as you made your way out onto the streets of Small Heath. A lack of sleep and an exhausted mind from countless hours of mulling over what you were sure you had seen the previous night consequently had you stumbling over your feet the very moment you stepped onto the cobbled path, and into a hard object you could only assume was a fellow human.

" Steady there love" a young man said, catching you before you landed face first onto the ground In front of him and further embarrassing yourself in your already flustered state.

" Sorry..." you replied abruptly pulling away from his hold, finding yourself studying his face longer than what anyone would consider socially acceptable let alone polite as you stepped back with caution. Was it him? You thought to yourself as your glare narrowed in on every feature his face possessed, his puzzled eyes turning into ones filled with nervousness when your stare failed to divert from examining each movement he made in an awkward, almost unbearable silence.

"Well...G'day to you miss" he said tipping his hat to you as he walked past your insistent eyes, his slow strides and labored limp absent of the speediness the dark shadow displayed last night quickly snapping you out of your unfounded accusations.

"Shit" you sighed under your breath as you straightened your hat that was now lop sided with a knotted ball of locks contained under it. In all honesty, you looked a bloody mess. A tangly haired, red-cheeked, nervous ball of mess. " Good day sir, and...and thank you!" You apologetically called out waving to the young man who your suspicious mind had all but convinced you in the space of a few seconds was the same creep that had been watching you. "Jesus Y/N, get a fucking grip" you scolded yourself under a heavy breath as you headed in the direction of work which you was already twenty minutes late for, the same place of work that just so happened to pass by the very spot said creep was standing in. As you approached the corner of the alleyway you came to a stop, your eyes briefly darting down to a burnt out cigarette on the ground you was convinced only one person could have been smoking. Bending down you picked up the rolled tobacco with the unintelligible charred words "eet ton's" printed on the filter, bringing it to your face as if you could distinguish the authentic smell of whatever tobacco had been used. In reality, you had no idea what you were looking for, but with wishful thinking and your nagging brain telling you to pocket the discarded cigarette, you did exactly that. Placing it between your hankie and carefully folding it within the embroidered fabric, your eyes shot up to the gulley that was devoid of anyone mere minutes ago when, just like the previous day, someone caught your attention. She was there again, watching you. " Hello?" You called out as the man that never ceased to be absent from her side made his presence known as he turned the corner, a bellow of smoke pummeling to the heavens with every swift stride he took.

" She can see me, Tommy..." Your panicked voice gasped as he approached you, his hand gently resting on your lower back, his bitterly cold cheek pressed against your own as you watched in unison the woman standing at the end of the bricked pathway, a woman that looked in every single way identical to you. Was Tommy right, was that you?

" Shh now darling" he soothed your worries away, his hand creeping under your jacket and grazing over your blouse, his fingers desperate to intimately feel the warmth of your soft skin he had longed to touch once again. This would have to do...for now. "She won't get any closer, I'll make sure of it" he assured you, closing his eyes as your intoxicating perfume brimming with notes of aldehyde and lemon filled his senses, transporting him back to the very year you were standing in, the very same day you were standing in.

"She's coming. Tommy, she's walking this way. Make her stop, please!..."

"Can I help you?" You asked, squinting into the distance as you strategically stepped around a muddy pothole whilst you made your way through the morning mist when a loud crashing of metal onto the cobbled path had you falling ankle deep into the very globe of sludge you was doing your up most to avoid. " Fuck sake. You again" you huffed as the black feline from the previous night ran out from behind a lidless bin. " You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? Made it your life's bloody mission to torment me" you ranted as he ran past you without a mere ounce of remorse whilst your eyes followed his nimble steps to the end of the alleyway that was now suddenly empty of the couple that had been standing there. " I'm losing it" you said wiping the whispers of hair from your face, grimacing as you pulled your muddy foot from the deep hole. " New job, no sleep and... I'm finally losing it" you continued to ramble to yourself, unwilling to speak of the very thing that had you in such a state as you took one last quick glance to the end of the path hoping that the past two days' unusual events were just a figment of your over-tired imagination. Fatigue. The only likely, rational reason...right?

" What the fuck-a-doodle-doo happened to you?" Ethel rather flamboyantly asked as you came thundering through the offices looking at you from head to toe, her and everyone else's eyes now fixed on your muddy stockings and disheveled appearance.

" Ethel!" Betsy scolded her. Her dear friend and colleague never able to, or willing to stop herself at any given opportunity to further elaborate whatever thought had entered her mind.

"Dear lord" Ada said wide-eyed as she looked to her Aunt who's lips were tightly pursed together, desperately holding back the humor in your uncanny resemblance to the local pigeon lady that had taken up residence on the church steps of Small Heath.

" I'm sorry love, It's just ..." Polly started to say, covering her mouth behind her cup of tea before her and everyone else burst into a fit of giggles, you quickly following suit as you got a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of a glass cabinet in front of you.

" Well Christ" you laughed, slumping down into your chair as you pulled your hat off.

" Dare I ask?" Ada said through a smile as she sat on the edge of your desk, receiving only a grunt from you in response. " Late night maybe? Followed by some cross-country hiking?" She teased, arching a brow as she looked down at your mud-drenched tights.

" Stepped in a pothole" you huffed, burying your head in your hands suddenly feeling sorry for yourself.

" And the birds nest currently residing on top of your head? " She asked as you ran your fingers through your knotted locks. " Getting there..." she smiled affectionately to you as your hair started to smooth down into something more manageable. " So, are you going to tell me what's got you looking like you was pulled through a hedgerow backwards ? " She asked as you started taking of your shoes, your lack of clothing in your frantic departure from home that morning making it near impossible to unbuckle your three-inch heels with your now, numb fingers.

" You know, they really should do something about all those potholes, Ada. I could have broken my ankle"

" Y/N"

" A foot deep, it was like a trench"

" Y/N!"

" Nothing" you replied, avoiding her gaze as you hitched up your skirt and unhooked your stockings, simultaneously avoiding Ada's worries and your own. With a room full of women, you were at no risk of further embarrassing yourself. Or at least you thought you were, when not only your boss but his two brothers and another man accompanying them sauntered in, coming to a sudden stop at the sight of your toe balancing precariously on the knob of your desk draw, the clasps of your garter belt on show and a stocking halfway down your leg. Oh, for fuck sake.

"I think I've just died and gone to heaven. Catch me Arthur..." John said, falling into his brother as a thunder of laughter resonated through the building, all but Tommy's that was.

" Get off ya bleeding egit" Arthur said, giving his brother a sharp elbow to his side.

" Gents" Tommy cleared his throat, motioning what might as well have been the entire British army and all the Kings' guards into his office as your face reddened, and you felt like bursting into tears at the sheer embarrassment of them seeing you in such a predicament.

" Kill me now. Just kill me now and throw me in the cut" you mumbled under your breath, tucking your legs under the desk as Tommy glanced back at you, his jaw tightening in what you could only assume was annoyance at your inappropriate display in a work place.

" Oh stop it" Ada scolded you as she rolled her eyes at your dramatics. " It's not like they've never seen a pair of legs before" she said placing a cigarette in her mouth as she tried to downplay your small mishap.

" Yes but maybe not at eight in the morning, and legs belonging to someone they hardly know" you huffed pushing your forehead into the palms of your hands, pushing the disastrous morning's events from your thoughts.

" You do realise you're in Small Heath, right?" She giggled, pulling a laugh from the frustrated pout that had weighed down your lips as you shimmered off the rest of your stockings under the cover of your wooden desk. Small Heath, you was begining to realise just what kind of place it was.

The remainder of the morning was thankfully a lot less eventful. You'd spent almost the entirety of it signing for letters, each delivery boy hanging around for a chat to see the latest newcomer to the Shelby offices after word had gotten around about the pretty-faced girl Thomas Shelby had hired. Though, every interaction had not gone missed by the watchful eye of the very man who had brought you into his firm, the same man who was starting to get increasingly angry with what he thought were your distracted priorities. Unbeknownst to you, you had already handed him two documents that didn't need signing for another month, and the ones that did have a deadline had all but gone missing. Second day of work, and you were unknowingly still making a mess of everything. The next interaction, or what Tommy believed, distraction, would be one he'd swiftly put a stop to before the annoyance his Aunt Polly had burdened him with got any ideas.

"Y/N love, come and meet Michael, my son" Polly ushered you over to her desk as you scooted out of your seat, catching the eye of Tommy who was watching you from his office through the glass windowed door separating you.

"It's nice to make your acquaintance again, Y/N" he said reaching his hand out for you to take as Polly looked straight ahead at her nephew who was now stood up at the window watching the whole interaction, his deathly stare enough for her to know he was getting progressively frustrated at the attention your presence had brought to the office. Was his dear, loving Aunt doing this on purpose? Tommy seethed to himself as he watched you smile to his cousin. Never having been able to stop her nephews' depraved ways, maybe this was her attempt at bringing Tommy's "Hobbies" to an end. For she knew better than anyone how your innocent beauty had already captivated him, how he'd already set his sights on his next endeavor. If his Aunt thought he would not take the needed measures to dispose of her beloved son, her judgment in his determination to get what he wanted was severely lacking, severely.

" Right yes, hi" you said, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks having now learned of whom the third man was that saw your misfortunate leggy display. " Sorry you had to see that" you said looking up through your lashes as you fidgeted with the pendant of your necklace sitting on your chest.

" Well, it was certainly one way to leave a lasting impression" he replied with a chuckle as you silently begged for the floor to swallow you up, and not leave one ounce of you left to endure the remaining embarrassment you were sure you hadn't heard the end of.

" Alright that's enough, leave the poor girl alone. She's had enough ribbing from us lot all bloody morning" Polly said as she lit a cigarette, the corners of her eyes turning up to match her smile at her son's less than subtle enamorment with you. " Y/N's been having trouble with her typewriter Michael"

" Uh huh.." Michael could all but reply as he watched your lashes flutter in the evening sun beaming through the windows as your fingers flicked through the file of documents on Polly's desk.

" Maybe you could show her...how to change the ink cartridge?" Polly encouraged him as you finally looked up to see the young man staring back at you.

" Erh yeh, sure" he promptly replied, sending you a smile to diffuse the look of confusion on your face. What had him all flustered? You thought to yourself furrowing your brow as you showed him to your desk whilst Polly sent her nephew a satisfied smirk. So she was doing this on purpose, purposely getting under his fucking skin. Tommy thought to himself as he marched to his door.

" Y/N, my office. Now" Tommy's voice boomed as he waited, checking his pocket watch in what could only be a blatant sign for you to, hurry the fuck up.

"Excuse me" you said bolting away from the young man with Tommy's appointment book in hand, tucking your hair behind your ear as you entered what felt like a triangle of stares between Tommy, his Aunt and cousin.

"Don't have something to do, Michael?" Tommy asked with a quizzical brow, not bothering to wait around for a response when his cousin opened his mouth before Tommy slammed his office door shut. " Sit" he demanded, his tone of voice absent of the niceties from the previous day as he leaned against the frame of the window lighting a cigarette, his eyes studying you from head to toe. Whatever did happen to your stockings? Tommy mused as his eyes darted down to your bare legs, his tongue wetting at how far up those legs he had seen mere hours ago." Now correct me if I'm wrong, but did you not say you were serious about your position in my offices? No distractions? Is my cousin a distraction for you Y/N?" Tommy said clearing his throat, flicking a scattering of ash into a decorative glass dish resting on the windowsill as he looked out onto the streets below him. Day-dreaming would have to wait.

"What?...No, no! You replied profusely shaking your head, feeling your emotions bubble up from an overwhelming start to your new life in Birmingham, and the telling off you were undoubtedly about to get from the most feared man in the smoke-fogged town.

"And the delivery boys are they a distraction too?" Tommy said as he blew a cloud of smoke up to the ceiling before the heavy sound of his pristinely polished boots traveled across the room to the edge of the desk in front of you, the buckle of his belt at eye level causing you to glance away in embarrassment. Well, isn't that sweet? Tommy chuckled to himself, your blushing cheeks giving him enough reassurance to know you weren't a woman of loose morals like the others.

" No. No...I was just being friendly, I..." You said feeling your eyes suddenly brimming with tears as he sat down on the edge of the desk. You had made a fool of yourself, once again.

" Friendly. Anyone else you plan on being friendly with love? Does the whole of Small Heath have the pleasure of looking forward to your charm?" He replied with a tone of disdain and irritation as you searched for a response. You were just trying to get by in what felt like a completely different world, just trying to be nice. " And here's me thinking you were serious about working for me" Tommy said with a look of disappointment spread across his face as he glanced down at your eyes fixed on your thumbs frantically rubbing against each other as a shame you hadn't felt in your attempts to be cordial suddenly heated your cheeks to a fiery warmth with every loud thump of your quickened heart. " Maybe you're not suited for this line of work, hm? Tommy said arching a brow as he went to stand up, and you, without an ounce of reflection, grabbed hold of your boss's leg.

" Please don't fire me..." You sobbed, your emotions finally getting the better of you. " I was just...trying to be nice" you wept, clutching onto him as Tommy's lips parted at the unexpected, but undoubtedly welcome contact of your delicate grip on him." I'm sorry" you said quickly pulling your hand away suddenly realising how inappropriate you had been. Is that what he thought you were, an immature girl that loved the thrills of flirting with any man in her presence? You thought to yourself as you tucked your hands under your thighs, shamefully looking up at your boss and the piercing stare he was now giving you.

" Y/N, there are two things I expect from my employees. Professionalism and trustworthiness. But from you, I expect a third" Tommy said as he watched your tears stream down your cheeks, hanging on to every word he said. " Loyalty" he finished as your fidgeting suddenly stopped and you locked eyes, Tommy's briefly darting between your own and your cherry red lips now stained from your trickling tears. Everything about you was so intoxicating, even that expensive perfume you had probably spent half of your life savings on. Lemon and aldehyde was it? Chanel No5. My my, someone was trying to make a good impression. Was this all for him? Tommy thought to himself as he watched you nod your head in agreement, desperately trying to hold onto your new life, and it's future he now held in his hands.

"I'm sorry I disappointed you. It won't happen again " you replied to the very man who's whole agenda has suddenly become, you.

" Good " Tommy ended his interrogation as you wiped your tears from your cheeks, searching in your skirt pocket for anything to dab away your embarrassment when your handkerchief fell onto the floor. " Sweet Afton's" Tommy chuckled, raising a brow as he picked up the burnt out cigarette between his fingers you had found that very morning. An unusual thing to save. He thought to himself when he suddenly realised, had you seen him? Had you been... meddling? " Would have taken you for more of a Craven A girl" Tommy said throwing the burnt rolled cylinder of tobacco in a bin next to his desk, clearing his throat as you watched your only evidence and reminder of the previous nights events being discarded of. "Here" Tommy said pulling out a fresh square of neatly folded cotton from within his suit jacket and handing it to you as he bent down to pick up your own, his finger grazing momentarily over the smoothness of your leg as he swiftly placed yours in his pocket as you wiped you cheeks.

" It's not mine" you confessed without realising the severity of what you had just said. So you had seen him. Tommy thought to himself as he tried to gauge exactly how much. " Sweet Afton's, I've never heard of that brand. Is it new? " You inquired as you sniffed away your remaining tears.

"New enough " Tommy replied, a small smirk playing on the corner of his mouth over something so mundane and insignificant as the brand of a cigarette you naively thought the man that had been watching you only used. Did you think you could fish out the owner of a cigarette that the majority of the country smoked? Tommy quietly chuckled to himself as a glint of mischievousness shone in his eyes, the sweetness in your naivety sending a shiver of goosebumps down his spine. You wouldn't last in Small Heath, even as a Londoner. Tommy thought to himself, waiting for another one of your queries as if this was a playful game, him having the upper hand, of course. But when your sweet voice stayed silent, Tommy could only assume you knew nothing more of his little late night stroll that just so happened to end up in front of your home. " Michael has a particular liking for them"

"Michael, Polly's son?" You asked, your brow quickly furrowing as Tommy watched your thoughts frantically tick over.

"An acquired taste. I tend to be more of a Woodbines smoker. Tobacco of the working man" Tommy lied, betting on your naivety to believe him as he continued to further sow the seeds of your suspicious mind.

" Woodbines? I'd say you've surpassed the class of a working man, wouldn't you Sir? " You replied as you looked around his costly office filled with luxurious rich mahogany furniture and the finest of staples any man of the upper class would possess.

" I'll let you be the judge of that Miss Y/L/N" Tommy replied, his mouth parting at your use of such formalities. Maybe he could do things the proper way this time, the correct way. He thought to himself as his eyes drifted down to the way the small rose pendant on the end of your necklace subtly moved with each breath you took, playfully luring him in. Who was he kidding, he would be a fool to think he could be so patient. And Tommy was no fool.

"I should get back to work" you said standing up, your movements snapping Tommy out of his deviant thoughts as you headed for his office door.

" Y/N" he stopped you, catching your elbow before you opened the door. " I feel I may have been a little harsh with you hm? " He confessed, the sudden softness in his voice catching you of guard. A brief glimpse into his lesser intimidating side piquing your curiosity.

" You wasn't" you looked up doe-eyed, your telling off still uncomfortably too recent to forget. For what was the briefest of moments, you found yourself getting completely lost in the oceans of his eyes as the man that never showed an ounce of fear held your gaze. There was something about him you couldn't quite put your finger on. Was it his charm, the authority he possessed or something entirely different? With each fraction of a second that past, you began to feel he was hiding a whole different self behind his crystal eyes as you sunk deeper into his stare.

"Y/N" Polly's voice awoke you from what had only been mere seconds of you pondering who your boss really was.

" There's a delivery that needs your signature" she said holding the door open as Tommy let go of your elbow, his Aunt looking right past you to her nephew who was now causally leaning against the frame of the door, watching you gracefully walk away.

"Not this one Tommy. You let her be. She's a good girl, she deserves someone..." Polly said standing in front of his line of sight, blocking him from the only thing his mind was hell-bent on having before he cut her off.

" What? Someone Like Michael?" He replied with a scoff as he reached into his pocket to pull out a cigarette. " I feel a change Aunty, a good one" he smiled wickedly, blowing the fumes from his cigarette in her face. " Now, stay out of it" he warned, his smile quickly dropping as the blues of his eyes turned to coal. " We wouldn't want anyone getting hurt from you interfering, would we? He smirked as he nodded to her son Michael in the adjoining office.

" You wouldn't dare" Polly's eyes widened, grabbing his arm as he turned to leave, a mere shrug of his shoulder and a sharp look he had conjured up from the very depths of hell, worthy of his only true fiery opponent enough for her to let go as she stepped back with heed.

" Wouldn't I?..."

NEXT PART

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heauxvibez · 2 months

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Sex Typhoon

Warning: Smut (18+), this idea was stolen from one of my favorite episodes of My Wife and kids. This is also an old one shot from one of my books from way back when, I just edited the fuck out of this and tailored it to how I like to write Roman. Hope you enjoy this short and sweet read!

"Please, baby... just fuck me already," Nevaeh pleaded, her fingers yanking at Roman's cream-colored button-up shirt with surprising strength. She managed to pull the 265-pound man on top of her petite frame, urgency evident in her eyes. A small, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as her words dripped with seduction, a silent acknowledgment of the intense longing between them.

Two Months Earlier:

Neveah's eyes furrowed in concentration as her delicate fingers flipped through the pages of the book.

The book, a gift from a friend a couple of days ago during their move, had remained untouched until Roman's message about working late tonight. It was a modern-day Kama Sutra, filled with positions and techniques that she could only imagine. Excitedly, she made mental notes, eager to add some more passion and excitement to their love life.

Their sex life had never been dull, but with their schedules becoming increasingly hectic, Neveah had made it her mission to ensure that there was always some added spice to their intimacy.

One idea from the book captured her attention above all else: a two-month hiatus from sex. Just two months of tantalizing foreplay without sex. The promise of explosive passion at the end of their self-imposed abstinence, described in the book as a "Sex Typhoon," was enough to surprisingly get both of them on board. Although Roman did put up quite the fight with the idea, he couldn't resist her cute pleas and gave in.

Roman chuckled deeply at her impatience, his hands gently cradling her face as he gazed into her eyes.

It was a rare sight to see her so consumed by her horniness to this degree. From the moment he walked through the door this evening she couldn't keep her hands off of him. Though every fiber of his being wanted to put it in her and stroke her until she melted into his arms, he resisted the temptation, knowing that tonight was about savoring every moment, every caress.

"Baby girl, calm down," he murmured, his lips grazing the sensitive skin of her neck as he whispered sweet nothings.

But how could she possibly calm down when she was in the arms of the Samoan man? His warm breath against her skin, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, his calloused hands roaming her body. It was nearly impossible to not cum when her senses were being overwhelmed like this

"I c-can't... I want you so bad, it's not even funny," she gasped.

Roman's gaze bore into hers almost leaving her breathless.

Taking her hand in his, he brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. A blush spread across her cheeks, the contrast against her chocolate skin captivating him.

Gosh, she's so beautiful.

His touch traced a path down her body, his fingertips leaving goosebumps wherever they roamed.

"Relax. Savor each and every moment," he seductively whispered, causing her clit to pulsate.

"Each and every touch," his rough hand caressed her curves, teasing her sensitive flesh with gentle strokes and firm pressure.

"Jesus," she gasped again, her voice struggling to escape her throat as she held onto his arms.

The way he touched her, the way she caressed him, they were sending each other into a frenzy.

"Each and every kiss that I place upon your skin," his lips trailed a scorching path between the valley of her chest.

His tongue teased her erect nipple causing her pussy to clench in an almost unbearably painful way. The soft bristles of his beard brushed against her skin adding to the overwhelming of her senses. She was feeling everything at once

Struggling to control her breathing, Nevaeh's fingers danced through his hair, the strands gliding against her fingertips. It was the only way she could keep herself grounded, regain some type of control while Roman was doing everything in his power to make her lose control.

A groan slipped from his throat, he truly savored the way her soft fingers massaged his scalp.

His tongue danced with finesse around her nipple, each swirl and flick almost sure to make her nut right then and there for him.

Returning to her neck, he nestled into the crook once more, their bodies almost melting together with only the thin fabric of his briefs and her panties separating them.

Huskily, he whispered, "Just savor everything for the time being. Let your climax build up... slowly..."

Nevaeh felt Roman's long finger slip into her panties, massaging her bundle of nerves in slow, circles.

"Until you reach your peak, gradually falling apart in my arms,"

The sheets wrinkled beneath her clutching hands. The friction between them was intoxicating, and Nevaeh felt as though she would explode if he didn't fuck her soon.

Sliding his finger down her slick slit, he earned a loud moan from her pretty plump lips. "Lord, help me," she pleaded, her voice a breathless whisper.

With a knowing smirk, Roman inserted his finger, savoring the feeling of her warm wet walls wrapping around him. Normally, he'd use two fingers, but he knew that if he'd enter a second one, she would orgasm.

"You okay, baby?" he asked, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes.

Biting her lip, Nevaeh groaned, "You know I'm not okay, asshole," she whined.

"I know," he agreed.

Chuckling softly, he withdrew his finger before slipping it into his mouth moaning at the sweet taste of her honey.

"You taste so perfect, baby girl," he uttered, his voice husky with desire as he gazed into her eyes.

Butterflies fluttered wildly in Nevaeh's stomach as he spoke, her need for him reaching indescribable heights. The ache between her legs felt like an ocean, a tidal wave of need crashing over her senses. She knew that by the time they were finished, the sheets would be soaked with not only her juices but his too.

Grasping her waist, Roman could feel the heat radiating from her core, her arousal warming his skin. Gripping his pulsating member, he nearly flinched at its sensitivity, the 2 months of no sex was almost the death of him.

Rubbing his dick against her slick folds, he teased her with a wicked grin. "Damn babe, you've got a river down there," he chuckled, his voice low and sexy as ever.

Nevaeh dug her nails into his skin, her impatience taking over.

"Shut up and put it in already," she demanded.

"Patience, princess," Roman teased as he guided himself slowly into her welcoming warmth.

With a low groan, he buried himself deep within her, relishing the sensation of her warm walls inviting him in. As they moved together in what seemed to be perfect harmony, their bodies were consumed by the pleasure they had been denied for months, every touch and caress more intense than what they could've imagined.

"Fuck, Roman.." she moaned. Her legs engulfed his waist, yearning for him to be deeper. A mistake she often made once she realized he was hitting her spot a little too precisely. But this time, she craved it. She craved for him to be in her, to stroke the deep depths of her soul. She didn't plan on tapping out this time.

"Mmm, I'm so proud of you..taking daddy's dick like I know you can.." he praised while taking her jaw into his hand, her lips forming into an 'o' as he did. His praises always did something to her. Her pussy craved his words almost just as much as it craved his body.

Beads of sweat formed down his heated skin, tracing the contours of his muscles before dripping down onto her skin. With every movement, he felt her velvety walls pulling him into a strong embrace the same way he did her.

"Dammit, Nevaeh," he growled, his voice a low rumble as he tightened his grip on her wrists, pinning them above her head. The weight of their anticipation, simmering for the past two months, now hung thick in the air around them making every glance and every touch 10 times more electrifying.

"Daddy..I'm gonna, I'm gonna nut " she panted.

"Go ahead baby girl, I'm right there with you."

He gave her one last mind-numbing stroke, as they hurtled towards their climax. With a deep growl rumbling in his chest and a whimper caught in her throat, they both stiffened before their bodies trembled as they released.

Her juices gushed, coating him in her warm nectar before dripping onto the crumpled sheets.

As he nutted in her, it felt as if their souls intertwined after being deprived of each other for so long.

Breathing heavily, they lay basking in the euphoria. Roman ran a hand down his face, his breath coming in ragged gasps, a satisfied grin spreading across his lips.

"That was beyond amazing," Nevaeh gasped, her fingers clutching at the sheets as waves of pleasure continued to wash over her.

"Hell yeah it was," Roman agreed, his voice full of satisfaction. "But I'm not sure I'm up for that two-month wait again. We'll have to explore something else from another one of your friend's books."

With a laugh, Nevaeh nodded in agreement. "Me either, and I highly doubt she has another book. She's not as adventurous as you."

"You never know," he teased, his fingers trailing teasingly over her skin. "Maybe instead of a Sex Typhoon, she has a Sex Storm or something."

Neveah rolled her eyes, giggling softly at his goofiness. "Anywaysss, let me get to washing these sheet.."

As Nevaeh rose to her feet to clean the sheets, Roman couldn't resist the urge to explore her further. Standing behind her, his touch sent shivers coursing through her body all over again. She tilted her head back, offering herself to him, and he leaned in planting small kisses on her ear. His warm breath igniting the fire they had just put out.

"Or instead of cleaning the sheets, we can get and the shower and have ourselves a little sex tsunami.." he whispered.

---------

Tags: : @harmshake @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @empressdede @alichesmi @kumapassion @msbigredmachine

#roman reigns #wwe #roman reigns fanfiction #wwefanfic #romanreignsimagine #roman reigns smut #romanreignsoneshot #fanfiction

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littlelioncub43 · 2 years

Text

Come On, Come On, Darling

Summary: A late night out with friends, and an uncomfortably deep talk has Eddie thinking about you. He just hopes you're thinking about him the same way.

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warning: fluff, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, best friends to lovers, drinking, Eddie being an absolute angel and a gentleman, reader does Eddie's make up (you're welcome), pet names ( I overuse "princess," sue me), the rest of the ST gang all being happy, season 4 never happened here, Wayne being oddly insightful and a good uncle, more plot than anything, but smut will happen in part 3, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Word Count: 4,039

A/N: I started this a while ago, hated it, took a break from it, came back and finished it — bon appetit. Bahaha! No, the break from it was much needed. I think I was tired when I said it was awful, because upon review it wasn't that bad. I love this one, you guys. I'm jealous of them. I'm jealous of the fictional couple that I created. I hope you guys like this one! Part 3 will have ze smut, so you have to be patient and polite as you wait for it hehe. Let me know what you think! Reblog, comment, send an ask, a carrier pigeon, a singing telegram— really anything. Ok! I love you!

Kisses 💋

—K

Part I. Series Masterlist Part III

The sound of random tinkering and a distant radio at the end of Mack’s Auto Garage welcomed you with a familiar warmth. Cars and trucks littered the parking lot and garage, random parts and pieces that made absolutely no sense to you sprawled out over the work benches. Eddie had a morning shift today, much to his dismay, but when money calls— he answers. Parking next to his decrepit van, you fiddle with the strap of your bag as you meander through the concrete workspace looking for him. You hear him long before you see him.

“Where did I put it? Son of a—“

“Missing something, Munson?” You interrupted Eddie’s nearly frantic search of his locker, his head snapping up in surprise. His normally untamed hair was pulled back into a low bun (with a scrunchie that looks suspiciously like the one you misplaced two weeks ago) with his favorite bandana tied around his brow to keep the sweat off. The dark blue coveralls with his name etched in red thread on his left chest were unzipped at his waist, a plain white t-shirt adorning his chest, oil and dirt smeared into the fabric were he wiped his hands clean on his thighs.

“Yeah, my freaking lighter. That thing must have finally grown legs and ran off or some shit,” he rambles and resumes to pat down the pockets of his leather jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“You left this in my car,” you slip the silver flip lighter from the back pocket of your black jeans and wiggle it between your thumb and index finger, “figured you’d need it sooner than later.”

“Oh, you’re a beautiful, gracious, and kind woman,” he groans dramatically with relief, happily taking the lighter from you. You chuckle and lean against the hood of the car at his bench, Eddie following suit. He pops a cigarette into his mouth and lights it swiftly, taking a long drag, his eyes shut as he holds it in at the top, and slowly blowing out a wispy cloud of smoke.

“Jesus Christ, you have no idea how badly I needed that,” he grumbles before bringing it back to his lips, “you’re a lifesaver.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh. Yeah, you, too, Sweets, thanks,” he teases with a coy smile. You playfully shove his shoulder, making him laugh around the cigarette. “We still on for drinks later with Steve and them?”

“7, right?” He hums an affirmative, “yeah, that sounds good,” you glance at the clock on the wall, “Shit, I gotta go, my shift starts soon.”

“Okay,” he nods, crushing out the partially spent cigarette in the ashtray on his bench as you fish your keys out of your jacket pocket. “Wear that cute top, the black one that hangs off your shoulders,” he calls out after you as you walk away.

“Why?” You chuckle and turn to look at him while you walk backwards, the move alone made Eddie think you were the coolest fucking chick that ever graced this floating space rock.

“It’s pretty,” he shrugged casually as he slung the arms of his coveralls back on, but you noticed the soft dusting of color along his cheeks.

“Fine, but only if you tuck your shirt into your pants,” you bargain and point at him from your spot at the mouth of the garage. He groans, making you laugh.

“I’m going to look like a loser!” He whines, failing to hide his smile at your giggling.

“That’s the point! I’ll see you then, Gomer,” you tease and finally get to your car, if you stayed any longer you’d definitely be late for your shift at the record shop.

You heard his van pull into your driveway just as you were finishing the last bit of your eye makeup. You always went light with the mascara and eyeliner for the sake of being comfortable, and it made washing your face a lot easier at the end of the night. The sound of Eddie’s keys jingling was followed by his bright voice calling your name. When you came out of your room, you found him sitting on your counter, munching on a bag of chips.

“Oo, look at you all prettied up,” he coos around a mouthful of Doritos. You feel your face heat up ever so slightly at his words, you did feel pretty. The knit, long sleeve black top that Eddie had requested clung to your shape deliciously, precisely the reason he loved it so much. The neckline was low enough to show off your collarbones and bits of your shoulder, and gave you the perfect opportunity to show off the pendant necklace that Eddie got for your graduation present years ago. Tight ripped black jeans matched Eddie’s own pair down to the black studded belt, except you swapped out your comfortable pair of converses for a chunky black boot. Eddie was positive: you were the coolest chick to ever live.

“I was going to say the same thing about you, Munson,” you chuckle and take him in, he does a little twirl. He wore his classic black jeans and handcuff belt, a staple in Eddie’s uniform. A black AC/DC t shirt hugged his sturdy torso and was neatly tucked into his jeans, just like you asked. You gotta admit: he did not look like a loser. He never did.

“Ya think so? I was worried that my jacket didn’t match my purse,” he jokes.

“No, no, they do, don’t worry,” you soothe and try to hide your smile. Suddenly, you speak before your mind can catch up with what you’re saying. “Do you want some eyeliner?”

“What?” Eddie chuckles, licking the Dorito dust from his fingers. You swallow and decide, fuck it, you already asked.

“Do you want some eyeliner? I think it would… look nice,” you stutter out as smoothly as you can. He thinks it over for a brief second before he nods casually.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Eddie manages to sound calm, much to his surprise. His heart may have skipped a few beats at your small compliment.

The next thing he knows you have him sat at your vanity, facing you as you stand in between his legs. One hand gently cups his jaw while the other wields a stick of your favorite black eyeliner. You try your best not to get lost in the feeling of his stubble scratching at your palm or the warmth of his hands on your outer thighs, and focus on drawing in the darkness around his eyes. Eddie sits as still as he can, the last thing he wants is to lose an eye. He trusts you completely, it’s his fidgeting that he doesn’t trust.

“Ok, close your eyes for me,” you say softly, the closeness brought your voice to a hushed whisper. Eddie shut his eyes without a second thought, he listened to the steady inhale and exhale as you stood in front of him. Eddie was unfairly gorgeous, his sweeping eyelashes, the placid expression that soothed his face coupled with the calm trust that surrounded you both made your heart flutter and your knees buckle. Steeling your nerves, you carefully applied the makeup along his upper lashes. “Alright, open. Look up, please.”

Eddie stared up at the ceiling, trying his best not to flinch as you brought the product under his lashes. He wished so badly to be able to watch you, you were so cute when you concentrated on things. Your eyebrows furrowed, drawn together in concentration, and your face set in an oddly serious expression. With one last smudge of eyeliner, you pulled back with a smile.

“All done. What d’ya think?” You ask and put your makeup away as he turns to look in the mirror.

“Not bad, not bad. What do you think?” He quirks an eyebrow. If you were honest, he was the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and that was without the makeup on. With the dark circles rimming his gorgeous brown eyes, he was deadly. But you couldn’t exactly say that.

“I think you look super cool,” you say honestly and grab your purse.

“Metal?” He stood up, following you out of your room.

“Very metal, but if we don’t get going soon, we’re going to be very late,” you chuckle and hand him his leather jacket and keys. Eddie nods and slips one his jacket with ease, the full ensemble complete, and, fuck, did he look hot. He locked the front door after you, skipping quickly ahead to open the passenger seat door for you.

“M’lady,” he bows, grinning like an idiot when you curtsey back and hop in.

It was going to be a fun night.

And it was.

Steve, Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy were sat comfortably at the table when you and Eddie arrived. Jokes were told, laughs were shared, and drinks were poured. Lots and lots of drinks. By midnight, the whole table was on the heavier side of tipsy, if not drunk. Steve and Robin were neck deep in a debate on whether or not Michael Myers was human or not, with Jonathan acting as moderator while Nancy fought through the spins. At some point, you ended up in Eddie’s lap, your arm slung around his shoulders with his own circled around your waist while you both listened and weighed in on what you have dubbed “The Great Halloween Dispute of 1987.”

Eddie had slipped his jacket off after his second beer, revealing his toned arms (all those shifts at the garage were paying off in more ways than one), the short sleeves of his t shirt rolled up ever so slightly. You toyed with a strand of Eddie’s hair like always and sipped on a glass of water, one that Eddie was quick to swipe from your hand. He took a good gulp without much thought and set it on the table.

“Well, Princess, what do you think? Should we call it a night?” He slurs his words as he rubs the length of your outer thigh absentmindedly.

“Yeeaah,” you drawl, your head was starting to spin even from the safety of Eddie’s lap. Looking down at him, you were struck again with the overwhelming feeling flooding your heart. Even in the low light of the seedy bar, he looks like the perfect man that God, or whoever is up there, made just for you. You bring one hand to rest on his forearm, your thumb stroking the bat tattoos you love gently. Eddie tightens his grip on you before giving you that million dollar smile, one that you can’t help but return with drunken ease. He pats your leg, signaling for you to stand, and you do, much to your objection (you were quite comfortable in his lap).

“Alright, gang, as fun as it’s been, the missus and I gotta head out,” Eddie announces as you slip away to pay for your drinks before he can. A chorus of slurred but friendly goodbyes send Eddie on his way to the bar just as you finish forking over the money for both his and your drinks. “Noooo, you don’ pay for drinks,” he scolds as you put your wallet away, his face scrunched in a pout.

“Yeah? Who said?” You playfully tease as he slides his leather coat over your shoulders, one glance outside and he knew that you’d be chilly on the way to the van. You subtly breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne, the same one you got for his birthday 2 years ago.

“Pretty girls don’ pay for drinks, everyone knows that,” he casually answers, he was much bolder with about 4 glasses of liquid courage warming his blood. You laugh, not bothering to hide the bashfulness in your voice and he smiles at the sound, leading you out to the van at the far end of the parking lot. He saw the way you shivered and pulled the oversized jacket around you tighter. Fishing his keys from his pocket, he opens the back doors and quickly starts setting up the blankets he had stored in the back. You must have made a face because Eddie’s soon laughing and shaking his head. “M’not drivin’ you home drunk, Princess. Could get ya hurt, s’too dangerous. Now, com’on.”

Your heart does a summersault at his words, but that’s just who he was. Caring, sweet, understanding, reliable, trustworthy. That’s Eddie Munson. He sees the fondness in your smile again, his stomach erupting in butterflies. If he wasn’t such a chicken shit, this is where he would tell you how gorgeous you are and kiss you, if you’d let him. But he doesn’t. Instead, he hops out of the van and holds out his hand to help you inside.

The old mattress he keeps tucked away in the back is draped in blankets, folded as neatly as a drunk Eddie could get them. You sit at the end of the makeshift bed, your legs hanging out the doors to take off your boots. Without a word, Eddie starts untying your laces, carefully undoing the knots, slipping the shoes off your feet and setting them neatly next to the mattress.

“Thank you,” you meekly reply, the sweet gesture having stolen your voice.

“You’re welcome, Sweets,” he pats your leg, “scoot over.”

He hops in, shutting the doors behind him before double checking that all the doors are locked. You hide a yawn behind your hand as he settles down on the other side of the bed, kicking off his shoes unceremoniously. You slip off your belt and other jewelry, opting to stay in your jeans for the night. Eddie does the same, slinging his belt into the pile with his shoes before crawling under the questionably clean blanket. He sighs and settles in with a groan, his eyes shutting for only a moment before he’s watching you tuck your earrings into the pocket of his leather jacket. You turn around to find Eddie making grabby hands at you, smiling, you crawl in next to him, letting him pull you into his chest and tuck the blanket around you both snugly. The chill of the van made cuddling a necessity, even under the blanket you could feel the stagnant bite of cold of the coming winter. Letting out a content sigh, you relaxed into the comfortable silence, the world around you only slightly spinning now as sleep began to descend on you. Eddie stares up at the metal roof, his eyes slowly getting heavier and heavier as the moments tick by.

“I like when you tuck your shirts in,” you sleepily confess, your voice was hushed as you whispered your little secret to your best friend. He can’t help but chuckle tiredly at your words, the sound more akin to a deep rumble as opposed to his normally bright laughter.

“Yeah?” Is all he can think to say, his face burning even in the chilly van.

“Yeah,” you shyly confirm, tracing the bats on his forearm once more, the action sends Eddie into a tizzy.

“Y’like when I look like a dweeb?” He jokes with a yawn, sleep fast approaching.

“You never look like a dweeb,” you mumble just before you drift off, your fingers slowing to a stop on his skin, If he wasn’t tired, he would have teased you to hell and back about it, but all he can do it chuckle lowly in his chest and hold you a little tighter. Why do you have to be so cute?

“I like when we sleep like this,” he rested his cheek on the top of your head, letting one hand stroke your arm tenderly, the action only pushing you quicker towards sleep. He hears you hum in acknowledgement and agreement.

“Me too, Eds.”

There’s a few moments of silence before Eddie realizes you’re asleep.

“Goodnight, Princess,” Eddie whispers with a smile and kisses the crown of your head, the sound of your even breaths fill the van and lull him into his own peaceful slumber.

Eddie wakes up to the sound of your soft snores and the growl of a stray truck chugging down the street. Your back is pressed to his front as you both lay on your sides, his arm under your head like a pillow and out stretched, his other arm was strung across your waist. The warmth of your body pressed against his had fought off the cold of the night exceptionally well, it drew him in for more, so he buried his face into the crook of your neck. The smell of your perfume mixing with the scent of his own cologne had Eddie groaning softly, this was the life. Nothing could bring him down, not even the soft thudding in his head or the dryness of his mouth.

You stirred next to him, your eyes still shut as you reached out for Eddie’s hand on instinct. When your smaller hand found his, you immediately laced your fingers together. Eddie looked at where your hands were joined and gave a small incredulous scoff and smile, his arm around your midsection squeezed you into him hard enough to force the air out of you.

“Why are you so damn cute? Huh? Who said you could be this fucking adorable?” He rambled on in a groggy whisper, his morning voice was just as glorious as you remember it being. You giggle as consciousness fills you.

“It’s a curse, really. Doctors have been studying me for years, it’s a medical mystery,” you joke and carefully rub your eyes with your free hand. You were surprised to find that you felt well rested for having slept in the back of your best friend’s van after a night of drinking with no pillow, in a pair of tight jeans, and no fan. You peek over your shoulder to find Eddie’s puppy eyes already staring back at you. The smudges of eyeliner looked even better in the morning sunshine. You could only imagine how you look right now. “Wanna get breakfast?”

“God, yes,” he mumbles with a smile. He was starving, plus he wanted to pay you back for covering his drinks last night. Reluctantly, he peels his hand from yours to reach for his shoes and keys. You hum and stretch out a little, cracking your back before getting your shoes back on as well. You’re both quick to fold the blankets and get into your seats, the pits in your stomach rumbled and demanded to be satisfied. The drive to the nearest diner was thankfully short.

Before long, you and Eddie find yourselves tucked into a booth with plates of hot food and even hotter coffee in front of you. The looks you receive from the other patrons did nothing but amuse you both. And what a sight you both were: strolling in at 9am reeking of the drink that Nancy accidentally spilled, last night’s makeup smeared across your eyes, bed hair, both dressed to the nines in black. Compared to the lovely elderly couple on their weekly Sunday morning date, you both looked like bats out of Hell. When you offered the old woman a polite smile, she was quick to return it, her husband was busy staring Eddie down, clearly not a fan of his tattoos or makeup. Soon, the plates were cleared and the cups were emptied, and you both meandered your way back to the van.

“Alright, Sweetheart, back home, it is?” He asks as he backs out of the parking lot, you scroll through the radio stations, hoping to find something good on.

“Yes, please, I need to shower,” you groan, the longer you stayed in your makeup the more grimy you felt. A hot shower would solve all your problems.

“Oo, no chance you’ll let me join, would you?” Eddie half jokes, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You roll your eyes with a smile and shake your head. “Damn, next time, then.”

Quicker than he’d like, he parks in front of your trailer. You gather your things, double checking that you have everything before hopping out of the passenger side. With a quick goodbye, you’re bounding indoors, making a beeline for the shower. Eddie watches until you’re inside then makes his own way home. He’s surprised to find Wayne’s car parked in its spot in the yard.

“You just getting in?” Wayne asks as soon as the door opens, Wayne sat at the kitchen table, eating whatever leftovers were in the fridge before heading to bed. Eddie sets his keys aside on the table and nods. “Out with that girl, again?” Eddie gives him a look as he sought out a glass of water, Wayne knew your name but he just liked giving Eddie a hard time, especially when he stays out all night.

“Yeah, we had some drinks with some friends, it ran a little later than planned.”

“Did you and her…” Wayne trails off, tilting his head to finish his sentence.

“Oh God,” Eddie sighs and hangs his head. Wayne would ask from time to time, and it never ceased to be awkward as balls.

“I’m just askin’. If you are, I’d rather you be safe about i—“ he defends calmly.

“I know how to be safe about—“ Eddie cuts himself off with another sigh, rubbing his face with both his hands. “I know how to be safe, but no. We did not… do things.”

“Ok,” Wayne nods, throwing his hands up in surrender to show that he dropped it. Eddie relaxes and finishes his water, happy to escape the awkward conversation. Or so he thought. “It’s obvious you like her, so I thought it would have happened by now.”

Eddie sputters a few words, each sentence of denial dying on his tongue. Wayne gives him a look and Eddie just knows that denying it isn’t any good. He flops into the chair on the other side of the table, looking up to his uncle through his lashes.

“How obvious is it?” Eddie asks softly. In that moment, Wayne sees the years fall away from Eddie and what’s left behind is what Wayne saw all those years ago: his kid nephew, lost and needing guidance. He smiles warmly, a rare sight, and scratches his head.

“Well, it’s not super obvious,” Wayne grumbles gently, resting his forearms on the table, “but I’m sure some of your friends notice it too.”

Eddie curses under his breath, his face hot with embarrassment. If other people could see how bad he has it for you, then that means you might see it too.

“Do… Do you think she knows?” He asks shyly, fiddling with the rings on his fingers for comfort. Wayne leans back in his chair, giving a small shrug.

“She might,” that answer weighs heavily on Eddie but Wayne is quick to try fix it, “but, would that be a bad thing?”

“Yes! No! I-I don’t know,” Eddie rambles, bouncing his leg as he does the mental gymnastics of trying to figure out if you knew.

“Personally, kid, I don’t think it would be. Knowin’ that you love her, how could that be bad?” His words knock around in Eddie’s head for a few moments before he speaks in a small voice.

“It could ruin everything,” Wayne couldn’t help but laugh at those words.

“Kid, lovin’ someone doesn’t ruin a damn thing,” he smiles and crosses his arms. “If it’s right, then it’s right. If not, then it’s not. But that doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.”

Eddie took in his words again, chewing his lip nervously. He hated when Wayne was like this, all insightful and wise. It was unnerving, but at the same time, he always knew exactly what Eddie needed to hear.

“You do what you think is best, Eddie. I’m gonna go to bed now, I’ll see ya tonight,” he stands and pats Eddie’s back as he makes his way towards the pull out sofa. Eddie mumbles his goodnights and makes his way to his own room, Wayne’s alarmingly wise words knocking around his head as he gets ready for a shower.

Would it be so bad if you knew? He was going to find out.

Part I. Part III

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imbeingchokeholded · 8 months

Text

Getting Clean

I need to be put into jail, stupid Scottish bitch.

Anyway this is probably lowkey just gonna be smut completely lmao.

I promise the soap pun titles will end.

Also so sorry this took so long because my mind is an enigma and writing for either the COD fandom or the RDR2 fandom has been deleted out of my mind.

Lets go lmao

WARNINGS!: female reader because im a woman and soap makes me yell real loud (nothing against him being shipped with male readers or 141, good for him what a king), NSFW, fuckin, im so bad at warnings just know its gonna be fuckin happenin, choking?? Voice kink???? Breeding kink for SURE. Just major NSFW basically porn with negative plot. Like... .5 plot.

Scottish slang/words may be inccorect due to using google, so please lemme know if its wrong, I'll happily fix it.

I am so sorry for spelling mistakes i finished this at like 2am

The mess hall seemed way too empty, everyone was out on missions, covert, recon, whatever, and while there was a shit ton of others there on base, without most of the 141 team it just felt....wrong.

You sigh and look at your food. It's not that it's bad food. In fact, it looks delicious, but sitting alone, at this massive table that usually you shared with Ghost, Gaz, Rudy and Alejandro, as well as Soap, just made you feel...down.

They were easily the people you were closest too on base. Working so closely with them it was only a matter of time before it happened. All of you were close friends, it was rare for any of you to stray from the group and talk to anyone else.

So today, sitting in the mess hall, was no different.

You stare at the food a little longer, and poke it around with your fork, that strange foreign feeling in your chest.

"Aye Lass, lookin' at it like tha' cannaé change how it tastes."

You smile and twist your head to look at Soap as he nears the table, a tray of food of his own in his hands.

"Johnny! I didn't know you were here!" You smile wider as he takes a seat next to you, and chuckle as he takes a bite of food from his tray.

"Ah, I jus' got back from a mission not too long ago, Price is givin' me a wei break."

You nod and smile at him, your heart seems a little lighter now, someone who you're far closer to now with you.

Plus it was Johnny, how could you not be happy around him? He was the obnoxious fun loving one of the group, he could be serious yes, but it was rare. Most days he joked, laughed, spat out witty sarcastic comments at everyone who passed.

You supposed that was part of the reason you'd grown to have such deep feelings for him in the first place.

Of course you'd never tell him that, you were far too nervous to do that.

Handsome, sweet, a deep voice, which had a Scottish accent on top of it? You could listen to him speak about nonsense for the entire day.

Sometimes missions with him were absolute hell.

He did his job, he was a good Sargent, he knew what he was doing, trained properly, getting things done the way they needed to, but his commentary....

That damn voice of his, he didn't even need to be next to you, all he needed was that voice and his stupid little sarcastic quips.

Hell, sometimes it wasn't even in comms.

He'd yell out something simple, that shouldn't have been attractive, yet it was.

Something as simple as "Changing mags!" Could make your face heat up and turn a violent red, hell, he basically growled at the end of the sentence whenever he said it. Being near him was almost like having a bomb strapped to your chest. Threatening to go off at any second.

Everytime he said "Steamin' Jesus" you couldn't help but imagine him using it in a far more intimate senario, with a slight change of tone, and that never failed to send a flood of warmth between your legs.

You swore that he knew what he was doing too, like he could sense the tension between the two of you, or see the red on your face, but if he did he never brought it up, and for that you were thankful.

Trying to explain fraternization to Price would not be a fun experience. Not only that but bringing it up would probably make you flustered beyond speaking ablity.

"Hey, Y/N. I been talkin' yer fuckin' ear off, you still listenin'?"

You shake your head and look at him, your face feels hot and you're sure you're crimson.

"Ye alright Lass?"

That stupid nickname makes the blush worsen and you simply clear your throat.

"I'm fine Soap. Thinking."

"You can call me Johnny off duty." He laughs. "You usually do....ya nervous about something? Just a wei bit?"

His voice carries a bit of teasing tone and you can't help but feel a bit if irritation at the smug bastard.

"Not nervous, no."

"Ah, not nervous, yet red in the face....Aye...I got yer number bonnie."

He snorts and then continues to eat.

"Really?" You cross your arms and look at him. "Do you now MacTavish?"

"Pretty obvious if you ask me." He shrugs.

"Okay, so tell me then."

Your face burns at the sudden burst of confidence, and as a smirk crosses over Johnny's face you suddenly feel very foolish about what you've just said.

"Lass...tha's not very appropriate for me to say here, where anyone could hear....now is it?"

That smirk stays on his face as he lowers his voice to a low whisper as he gets the last few words out.

You swallow, and your face burns deeper.

"I don't know what you mean Johnny."

"I'm sure." He offers you a laugh and then stands, the look in his eyes makes your body shiver. "I think I'll head to my room...feel free to...visit, if you'd like."

You watch as he walks off as though nothing had happened and your entire body seems to shiver.

He sticks his hands in his jean pockets as he walks away, which you obviously noticed, because of course you did, with an ass like his.

What the hell are you gonna do? Follow him? How the hell did he figure you out so quickly? Did he mean what he said?

Little did you know Johnny was thinking similarly.

"What the hell were you thinkin'? Saying somethin' like that? Y/N does NOT feel that way about you, you probably just fucked somethin' up, fuckin' idiot."

It takes you only a matter of minutes before you stand from the table and head after Johnny, towards his room in the base.

Your heart is thumping so loudly its the only thing you can hear.

Your body seems to be reacting on its own though, your thoughts, while dirty and definetly in need of some....cleaning....ironically, are wondering what'll happen to your friendship afterwards, but your body doesn't seem to care.

Your mind races with the thought of what would happen if you were caught too, it wasn't exactly professional to fuck your coworker in the military.

When you reach his door you breathe deeply, hesitant as you raise your hand to the door. You stopped for a moment and then, you knock on the door.

Johnny opens the door nearly instantly, only a matter of seconds pass before the door knob clicks and he stands in the doorway before you, leaning against the doorframe as he looks down at you.

"Tha' was quick Lass."

"Shut up, let me in."

"Aw...c'mon now...be nice..." He lowers his voice, whispering the last two words, a smug smirk coming over his mouth.

You feel a rush of heat through your chest and look to your feet, your entire face seems to burn, your ears even feel as though they're burning.

"Please Johnny?"

You feel his hand come under your chin and he lifts your head to look him in the eye, not gently but not rough either.

"Try again Lass, look me in the eye."

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

"Please let me in, you stupid Scottish fuck."

"Tha's not very nice...thought I said be nice..."

You clench your jaw and stare at him, that smug grin on his face somehow managing to irritate you and make you horny all at the same time.

"Please Johnny? Let me in?"

"Ye really do want me, don't ye? Dinnaé know you felt so strongly towards me.." He smirks at you and the moves aside, dropping his hand from your chin to let you in.

You look around his room, staring at all the posters and things he has lined up on the walls. Considering this was Johnny's room....you expected it to be far dirtier, less organized, yet as you looked around at the rest of his room you noticed everything had a place, everything was neat, he didn't even have dirty clothes on the floor.

Neat and organized....despite his very chaotic and uncooridinated nature.

You're busy looking this over, viewing his room when he comes up behind you.

He leans in close.

"So, you were havin' thoughts then?" He smirks, you can feel it without even looking at him. "You? Havin' thoughts...innocent little Y/N always focused on the job Y/N....havin' thoughts like those....and about me..."

His voice lowers, it's nearly a growl, and a hand wraps around your waist, his fingers slide gently under the bottom of your shirt, touching the bare skin of your stomach, only just barely.

"Naughty...naughty..."

You look down, your face is completely red, scarlet, and it burns hotter than you thought possible.

By looking down you didn't really account for the fact that, that would only leave your neck open, and it takes all your will power you have not to make a sound when you feel Johnny's lips agains the skin there.

"I'm suprised it took you this long to notice Johnny." You breathe out, hoping your voice wouldn't give out on you.

He stops, his lips still gently placed against your skin as he speaks.

"Really now....been very noticable has it Hen?"

The nickname sends a shiver though your spine, though you know the word itself isn't the issue.

"I think so..." You breathe. "Can't you tell when my voice changes over comms sometimes?"

"Ye get that flustered...over comms? Ye don't even see me.."

He chuckles and presses another kiss to your neck, you're sure the next one he offers will be brusing.

"Not my fault..." You mumble. You've almost collapsed against him, leaning your body weight onto him, though he doesn't mind in the slightest.

"Really now...now...can ye explain to me what it is on comms that makes things so hard to focus then Hen?"

"Why must you make things difficult?"

"Difficult?"

He laughs at you and then stands up straight, his hand leaving the skin of your stomach.

He moves to his bed and takes a seat, nearly plopping down, he sits with his legs open and slaps both hands on his thighs, leaning forwards.

"It isn't difficult, it's a really easy question now Lass."

You cross your arms and look at him, watching as he leans back a little a simple smirk on his face.

"If ye really want somethin' tonight Y/N, yer gonnae have to tell me."

That smug look doesn't leave his face, rather it seems like it only gets worse as he utters out your name, emphasising it, lowering his voice as he does. To add to this you watch as his hands leave his thighs, palms upwards in a sort of shrug gesture.

He knows what gets you flustered over comms. He knows, you know he knows, but you also know he's gonna make you say it.

"You damn well know what it is Johnny."

"Oh I do, but it'll be much better when it comes out of yer mouth, preferrably with your face all red."

You swallow and look to the floor, keeping your arms crossed as you speak.

"I swear sometimes you do it on purpose. You do those damn jokes, say those fucking statements and you always lower your voice, especially if you know I'm listening. I told you how I liked your accent ONCE and now you use it everytime you can."

"Aye, I do." Again, as before, you can hear that smirk on his face. "I'll admit it. I take every chance I can."

You scrunch up your nose, refusing to look up at him.

Theres silence for a moment and then you hear him shuffle, only then do you look up.

He simply catches your gaze and makes a motion towards himself with his two middle fingers, pretty much beckoning you towards him.

Despite the stubborness you've shown earlier you can't help but follow his silent command.

As you reach him and stand inbetween his legs his hands creep over your thighs, fingers curling around the back of them, squeezing the meat of them, tightly, firmly. Just the right amount of pressure.

He looks up at you, his face a little more serious now, the smirk from earlier still lingers, but it's far less noticable.

"Ye know Y/N, I've thought about having you in here....a lot."

"Really?" You stop a moment, your body tingling, stemming from his fingertips outwards. Your mind seems a little fogged. "I thought....I thought maybe you'd invited me in here today just to...well honestly I thought you were just fucking with me Johnny, but...I couldn't just ignore it."

"Nae, no fuckin'with you, no this time."

"So...does...um...does that mean..." You swallow, struggling with your words. "Look....Johnny I think it's obvious I've liked you for a while now...are...if we're really gonna do this...I...what does it mean? Anything? Just...are we fuck buddies, or something more because...."

Your words trail off, you can't help but cross your arms, a sudden burst of what you can only assume is nearly shame creeps up through you.

Johhny's face changes, subtly, but you catch it, and you don't miss the squeeze he gives your thighs either.

"Hen, once I get a taste of you I don't think I could have anyone else."

He's quick with his movements as he slides his hands up towards your ass, and pushes you slightly closer to himself.

The action he does next is a simple one, yet it sends all kinds of feelings through you.

His tongue touches the skin of your stomach, his hand gently pushing your shirt up out of the way. He licks a stripe upwards, keeping eye contact with you as he does.

"Jesus Johnny...."

He offers a chuckle and grips your hip with his free hand just a little tighter.

"I'm gonna ask this once Bonníe," he looks at you, only a small trace of a smile on his lips. "Are ye sure ye wanna do this? I'll stop if ye say stop, but after this I won't ask again."

Your thoughts swirl in your head for a moment. Wondering if it is what you wanted. If it was worth chancing your friendship, chancing your job, getting caught fraternizing is no small penalty.

In the end your body decides for you.

You nod.

"I do."

That smile of his fits on his face slowly, showing off those pearly whites. His surprisingly sharp canines.

His tongue comes out once more, again licking up your stomach, this time he stands as he moves himself upwards, only bringing his mouth away when he reaches the area just below your breasts, letting your shirt fall back to its original place.

When he finally stands his mouth goes into good use, his lips meeting yours with a feverancy, practically a need. He fists your hair, and darts his tongue into your mouth without any hesitance.

His free hand snakes around your body, finding purchase on the plump of your asscheek.

You let out a moan against his lips which in turn pulls one from him.

Your hands wrap around the back of his neck, grabbing onto any part of him you can.

His hand nestled within your hair offers a tug, pulling your head back, taking your lips from his and exposing your neck to him.

His lips latch onto your throat, open mouthed hot kisses against your skin, making your body shiver, tingle. His tongue licks along your skin, warm, and again...hungry.

"Johnny..." You whine out his name, and your body flames up, a part of you is curious as to how he'd gotten you so needy so quickly.

The other part did not give a shit.

"So pretty when you whine like that Bonníe..."

He smiles against your skin, moving towards your jaw, still dragging his lips along your neck, refusing to leave it.

"Maybe we should see if I can get any more out of ye..."

"Johnny...we have to be careful..." You mumble. "We...we can't be caught-"

"Yer right Lass...that might even be more fun..."

He pulls back to look at you, his eyes seemed to darken with the idea that begins to plauge his mind.

"Let's see if ye can keep from screamin' huh?"

"Johnny-"

He cuts you off as his hand come up around your throat, offering a gentle squeeze to the sides as he begins to push you down to the bed.

"Do yer best for me Love." He gives you that goddamn smirk again. "Stay quiet...Can ye do that?"

You nod, your breathing becoming heavier as he stares down at you, hand still wrapped around your throat.

"Atta girl."

He coos out the words and everything in your body seems to be completely englufed in flame.

"You this charming to every girl you fuck Johnny?"

You breathe out the words, hands moving to his chest as you settle against the mattress.

"Jus' you Lass."

Rough hands slide under your shirt, over your stomach, bringing the shirt along with him.

His thumb glides up the center of your torso, pushing down slightly as he continues his movement, his other hand only leaves your throat when he needs to remove the shirt fully.

Your bra is taken off with seemingly expert practice, your breasts exposed to the air, but quickly they're found by hands and mouth.

A rough palm on one and a wet mouth sucking and licking the other.

It takes all your power not to moan, your back arching up into the feeling.

You hadn't been aware of just how touch starved you'd been.

One of your hands tangles into his mohawk, attempting to hold onto something of him.

He looks up at you, pulling away from your breasts.

"Nae, I dinnae say ye could touch lass."

"Johnny-"

"Shut tha' pretty mouth lass...see if ye can be quiet yeah?"

You nod, swallowing as he reaches for your pants. His fingers hooking under the waistband as he unbuttons them with the other.

With one swift movement he's pulled both your jeans and panties down, leaving you bare to him.

"Would ye look at tha'...such a bonnie sigh', Love..."

He smirks and moves in, hands finding your inner thighs, bringing a sigh from your lips.

Before you can say much else you feel a swipe of his tongue over your heat, already you were slick, this was certain to make the problem worse.

His grip on your inner thighs gets a little tighter as he continues with you, he moves his tongue with expertise, eating you out as though he's a man starved.

"Johnny..."

You can't help but let his name slip out, grabbing the sheets beneath you, squirming your hips against his face.

He looks up at you from his position, and even in his eyes you can see the smirk he'd wear.

It's far too soon that he pulls away, you'd been so close to your climax, so close to having that release, until he'd denied you that.

Again you whine his name, and he moves, climbing over you, grabbing your face with one hand, firmly holding your cheeks.

"Aw lass...wei bonnie...are ye feelin' a wei bit needy?"

You nod, the best you can in his grip, moving your hips against his clothed arousal, hoping for even a little bit of friction.

You give a nother small whine, this one more of a sound than that of a noise, again reaching for him, only for his other hand to pin your wrists above you.

"Ah...I told ye, nae touchin' lass"

You simply look at him, unable to do much in your senario. It's then that he kisses you, deeply, his tongue gliding against yours, the taste of your own slick in your mouth.

He lets go of your face, only to rushedly un button his pants, his problem suddenly a bit more annoying than it had been.

The moment he's free, his pants and boxers disgarded he simply looks down at you, seemingly thinking.

Its then that he grabs you by the hips and easily, effortlessly, flips you onto your stomach, running his pointer finger and thumb down your spine for a moment.

"Ye look so good from this angle love..."

He leans over you, his chest to your back, head angled right next to your ear.

He lowers that damn voice of his again.

"Can ye be a good lass fer me and arch jus' a wei bit... chest down love, ass up."

Of course you do as he asks, or rather tells, like its instinct, pressing your chest further into the bed, raising your rear higher into the air.

He leans back, taking a look at the sight in front of him, his hands going to the flesh of your ass like magnets, squeezing gently, your ass and hips, as though he can't decide which he likes better.

"Look at ye...such an obediant little lass...ye like doin' what yer told do ye? Is tha' why ye like rankin' under me? Enjoy the way I order ye around on the field? Makes ye think..."

You don't answer, focused on the feel of his hands, its only when he moves one of those hands to the back of your neck.

"I need an answer lass."

"Yes, yes I do Sir."

You can nearly feel the smirk on his face, he squeezes the back of your neck a little tighter.

"Sir?"

"Yes sir."

"Oho...I like tha' lass..."

He grabs both of your asscheeks again for a moment before you feel one leave only to feel him push into you.

You let out a groan as he pushes in, as much as you can take, to the base, you feel incredibly full. He's girthy.

"Fuck Johnny..."

You murmer.

"Nae...yer gonna call me sir from now on Love..."

You swallow, waiting for him to move.

"Do ye understand me?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good lass."

He gices you this praise and gently he moves his hips, his hand pushing your spine back into that arch you'd subtly moved away from.

His hips move slow, almost painfully so, and he knows this, teasing you with his hands gliding over your back.

"Ye look so good lass...all this jus' fer me..."

"Johnny please...."

"Aw lass...what did I jus' say?"

"Please...sir?"

"Tha's better....use yer words bonnie...what is it ye want?"

"Faster sir, please?"

You hear the small beg in your voice, sure that by the end of all this you'd be begging a lot more.

"Tha's a girl."

His hand moves to your hip, gripping hard as the other moves to your hair, grasping the roots of it, giving a tug as he moves his hips a little faster, filling you with his size, over and over again.

It's only a minute or so before he seems to loose that idea of torturing you, his pace picking up, hips snapping against yours, that slap of skin on skin, the squelch of your arousal ringing in your ears.

"Fuckkk y/n...." It comes out in nearly a growl, and he pushes your upper half further into the bed.

"Yer doin' so good bonnie...so fuckin' good..."

Another maon crawls its way out of your throat, the others you'd managed to quell, small sounds here and there, but you can't stop this one.

You push your hips against his, letting your knees spread further apart trying to get him in at a deeper angle.

"Please sir, please, fuck-"

The words tumble out of your mouth before you can register what you're even trying to beg for, your figers clench at his sheets beneath you, they smell like him, everything smells like him.

"Y/N..."

His voice is a groan, it's all you hear as he shifts your position, yanking you up by your hair, bringing your back to his chest, thrusting himself upwards into you.

"Johnny...fuck!"

You find your arm going over your shoulder, wraping around the back of his neck, trying to find purchase on something

His lips latch onto your neck as though he's drawn to it, his tongue swiping over your skin and his teeth leaving bites along your throat and shoulders. He breaths hard against you, inhaling your scent.

"Steamin' bloody Jesus..."

He groans, his pace picking up a little further, one hand still brusingly on your hip, the other slides down your front, fingers finding your clit easily.

It brings a moan to the surface of your lips, and rather than being scolded Johnny simply murmers another praise of 'good lass' in your ear, his hips snapping against yours, rythmic.

"Johnny-"

"Y/N..." He huffs, his fingers going faster against your bud. "'M close...need ye to tell me where..."

"Inside Johnny, please...fill me up..."

"Jesus Y/N..."

His voice is breathy, heavy against your skin as he continues, his hips getting erratic, until finally he gives a groan, shoving his face into your shoulder, riding out his climax, the feeling of his cum hitting your inner walls pushing you closer to yours.

He rides out his, moving his hips slightly, much slower than before, and keeps his hand going, trying to keep his previous pace.

"C'mon lass...ye can let go now...it's yer turn..."

He mumbles, breatheless.

It's not much longer of this praising and the movement of his fingers before you do just that, squeezing around him and moaning out his name as you finally reach that high.

As the two of you come down, breathing hard, Johnny still inside you, head leaning against your shoulder, he slips an arm around your waist and offers a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

"Thank ye lass..." he murmers. "Tha' was fun."

"Thank you Johnny."

"Ye ain't gotta thank me...I've wanted to do tha' for god knows how long."

"Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"Oh trust me lass...we will be."

#cod #soap cod #johnny mactavish #cod mwii #john mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x reader

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twilightttlovee · 9 months

Note

can i get sexually frustrated enemies ada x fem reader meeting on a mission just taking their anger out on another <:)))))))) 🥺👉👈

”Good Girl”

Ada Wong x !Fem reader

warnings : NSFW, Fingering,Ada being hot HSHSJSJSKSK, slight angst?, degrading, mommy kink, rushed 😢

There she was, the girl you once loved, it was really her.

Ada Wong. That bitch!

6 years ago, she betrayed you, had you head over heals for you. And for hells sake, you even let her kiss you. Yet just a couple hours later, she revealed her true self..a spy, before shooting you, and taking the briefcase in your possession, as it contained valuable information she needed.

And she did the same thing to your coworker, Leon Kennedy, except she was rumored to be dead.

Yet here she was, holding a gun against the back of your head.

“Drop your weapon.” She smirks, finger ghosting the trigger, and as much as you didn’t want you dropped your dagger.

“Good girl” she adds as the blade skitters across the wooden floor, causing your body to heat up. No, you can’t let her get you like this, not again, not after what happened, not after she hurt you.

“what the fuck do you want?” You grit as Ada face transforms into a sarcastic hurt expression “Is that any way to greet your long lost friend?” She purrs seductively, moving her gun from the back of your head

Her comment sends shivers down your spine, sucking your cheeks in and sighing, you say “You aren’t my friend.” A chuckle leaves her, “Ouch”

You ignore her response, turning around and taking your handgun from your gun holster, pressing it against her forehead in one swift move “What the hell are you up to now? Gonna try and seduce me and trick me again, do what you did to me and Leon?” You hiss, eyes glaring into her un phased ones. “Hm, Leon told you about me? How sweet” she says, her seductive tone returning, now added with a shit eating grin. You press the gun further into her forehead, finger resting on the trigger, “don’t fuck with me, I will blow your brains out right now.” She rolls her eyes, grin being replaced with a lower lip bite “Relax, sweetie, just came to help you out.”

Your eyes widen, face flushing, knees weakening. Shitshitshitshit! You thought. Not this shit again. You hated how Ada had this effect on you, you hated how Ada could talk to you, melt you like this, and most of all..

you hated that you liked it.

You remove the gun from her forehead, huffing and looking away as Ada turns around, “Getting quite late, isn’t it?” She smiles, “We should find a place to stay for the night.” she adds, walking away. Your eyes scan her body, how her hips sway as she walks, how the her tight red dress hugs her curves so beautifully, as if she was sculpted by the gods.

A sight that had your body heating, and your core soaking.

“Dear, don’t you agree?” She asks, catching onto your gaze.

You snap out of your trance, eyes fluttering, “Yeah yeah, whatever..sure..yeah” you babble, cursing at yourself mentally, she can’t know her effect on you! She can’t realize that she has you wrapped around her finger, just so she can leave you again!

Time skip

you two find an abandoned cabin to stay in, it was quite dusty and outdated, but it worked.

You drop your gear on the table, “You’ve been working out, huh?” Ada grins, looking you up and down, before approaching you. “Why does it matter?” You say, putting on a aggravated face, body secretly melting at her words. “You know, I’ve missed you..and I’m sorry, seriously” she sighs, looking away, guilt spreading across her face, your body untensed, “You say that, yet you went and did the same thing to Leon.” She sighs once more, turning you around to face her, placing her long fingers on your shoulders “I..I had to..please love I’m sorry…just..please forgive me..”

you snap at that, pushing her hands off of her, “What the fuck?! Don’t play that shit with me!” You snap, seeing Ada’s face fill with rage “Can you not be a fucking bitch all the goddamn time! Jesus, I said I’m sorry, can you at least just forgive me?!” you feel your body bubble with hate, “What? So you can take advantage of me again? Yeah, sure Ada, sure” you snicker as she approaches you, shoving your body against the table, breath ghosting your neck and she presses herself against you “Y’know, your such an ungrateful bitch.” she whispers, feeling your body tremble against her, she looks you up and down again, before latching her lips to your neck, sucking and nibbling on your pulse. “Up on the table, now.”

You do what she says, whimpering as she attacks your neck once again, feeling slick moisten your core, “Good girl..good fucking girl..” she taunts, undoing the zipper of your cargo pants, seeing your satin panties, now stained with all your wetness, “Mm, little slut all wet for mommy, huh?” You nod your head, moaning as Ada rubs her middle and ring finger along your clothed folds, “Please mommy, I need you” you whine, slightly grinding against her fingers, “Little slut so needy for my fingers, huh?” You nod again as she nearly rips off your panties, spreading out your legs more, putting your glistening cunt on full display for her, seeing her lick her lips, before going back to your neck, rubbing her fingers along your folds once again, causing a moan to pull out from you. “Cmon, sweetie, let mommy know how good she makes you” she says, slipping her fingers into your hole, body shaking as she starts pumping and curling her fingers into you, you feel a knot build up in your stomach, becoming somewhat painful. “P-please..m-mommy..I’m gonna-“ you mumble out, before she thrusts her fingers into to you more, snickering as she feels your breath become more heavy, “so needy for my fingers..mm..you like that?” You nod, walls clenching around her fingers as she presses her thumb against your numb, tracing slow circles around it, throwing you over the edge as you cum on her fingers, eyes rolling into the back of your head “Good job, dear, you did ‘s good..so proud..” she says, removing her fingers and planting a kiss on your forehead “Cmon, let’s find something to clean you up with..”

Thank you for the request dear! Sorry this was so short (and bad) , this is my first time doing a request :((

#ada wong #ada wong x reader #ada wong smut #ada wong x fem reader #resident evil x reader #Acqu7inted

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icarustypicalfall · 8 months

Text

HOLDING ON TO HEARTACHE

rudy parra x reader

PART 2

Summary: when rudy becomes attached to his work, he startes to neglect you. why did it finish like that?

word count: 1k

warnings: sfw, angst, mean rudy, emotional neglect, slight violence, slurs, no use pf y/n just you, argument, guilt.

this is just for the sake of the story i absolutely hate any type of abuse and don't support it, maybe reader won't forgive him now 😈 dhehehe

"you know that the [party] is over when you're standing in an empty space alone "

He knew he shouldn't have said that. Hell, he knew he probably wouldn't see you again after what he said. Yet, he couldn't extinguish the tiny flame of hope that burned within him. He believed that he would find you there, sitting in your usual spot amidst the aftermath of your fights - a place where hugs, kisses, and sweet nothings could mend the misunderstandings.

However, as he pushed open the door to his headquarters this time, he wasn't surprised to find the room empty. The faint lingering scent of your perfume tormented his senses, choking the air out of his lungs. He sighed heavily, taking in the chaotic sight before him - the disheveled room, the sheets strewn across the floor, the shattered lamp. Fixing those material damages would have to wait. He noticed the empty closet, with no trace of your belongings among the shelves.

Rudy sighed, frustration seeping into his every fiber. He knew he was in the wrong side, but he couldn't help himself. The weight of his responsibilities had been bearing down on him, more burdensome than he had anticipated upon his promotion to sergeant. He loved his job, cherishing the honor it brought, but it also demanded a level of mental and emotional preparedness that he struggled to maintain.

He was a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, always sweet, gentle, and helpful. However, since his promotion, those qualities had slowly begun to fade in the face of increasing stress. Rudy was overwhelmed, striving diligently to fulfill every command and requirement. He had little time for himself, let alone for you. Although he would occasionally manage to show some sweetness, like a fleeting kiss on your forehead before bed, the growing distance caused by work started to take its toll.

Things took a turn for the worse when Colonel Vargas decided to send you to another unit, TF141. While they were your allies, the fact that Rudy seemed indifferent to your departure intensified your rage. His focus was solely on reports, mission plans, and weapons, seemingly more interested in pushing the cartel to it's downfall than caring for you. He neither asked nor questioned how long you would be away; he simply approved the transfer and jotted down some notes in his reports.

Rudy had become completely consumed by his job. You rarely saw him, and when you did, he was either surrounded by soldiers or engrossed in paperwork. No matter how hard you tried to engage him in conversation, catch his attention, or prepare his favorite meals, he always dismissed your acts, responding with mere nods and dismissive murmurs of "mm..yeah mi vida."

When you finally returned from your mission, you were ready for war - a battle against the man you loved and the man you despised. You had endured enough. For two weeks, Rudy had seemingly forgotten about your existence. He didn't call even once. When you walked into his office, he was in a terrible state, typing on his laptop. He oblivious to your presence and the pain etched across your face.

Sighing deeply, you tossed your helmet onto the nearby couch, glaring at him. Only then did he finally glance up, startled, nearly choking on his coffee.

"Jesus, mi vida! When did you come back?"

His weary, dark eyes were puffy, with dark circles underneath - evidence of countless sleepless nights. He blinked, rubbing his face in frustration as he most likely battled fatigue, continuing to type in a mechanical manner.

"A few minutes ago," you replied tersely, your voice filled with a mixture of disheartenment and anger.

He simply nodded, not bothering to look at you or inquire about your well-being. "Mm...alright. I'll see you around, then."

That was the final straw. In a fit of rage and hurt, you stormed over to his seat and slapped him, unable to contain your emotions any longer. Rudy stared at you, a mix of dumbfoundedness and irritation crossing his face.

"wha... what the hell is your problem?!"

He clutched your wrist tightly, his grip unyielding. A whine escaped your lips as you struggled to break free from his iron grasp.

"You ignored me for months! You're a fucking moron," you spat, your voice quivering with hurt.

His grip only tightened, leaving you to fear it might leave bruises. Pushing his chair back forcefully, he pinned you against the wall, your head colliding with the unyielding surface. He glared at you, eyes filled with venom and hatred, before uttering words he would soon regret. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you mustered up the strength to fight back.

"Maybe if you weren't such a bitch about it, I'd be interested in you. I'd be happier if I never met you in the first place. You're always so whiny and needy, seeking attention and incapable of respecting that I have work and obligations behind my back... fucking whore."

Only after the words had escaped his lips did he realize just how far he had gone. The hurt look on your face and the gaze in your eyes served as painful reminders of his grievous error. You pushed him away, fleeing from the room while he stood there, swallowed by a sea of remorse. He called out to you, his voice filled with desperation, watching as you ran down the hallway.

"Mi... Mi vida, please, I am sorry..."

Unfortunately for him, some wounds cannot be healed with a simple apology. Rudy groaned in frustration, clutching his fist and striking the wall, the pain in his knuckles fading in comparison to the guilt that washed over him. He knew he hadn't been providing you with enough love and attention, and he felt terrible about it, but it seemed as though he couldn't do anything to change the path they were on. Caught between the potential loss of his job or losing you, fate had already made its decision.

To be continued...?

note: this isn't Rudy's typical behavior,i know. I wanted to write something different and out of his charachter but i feel like i messed up a little. Anyway, this one isn't as angst as my others are. I hope y'all like it, i kinda had something different in mind, the emotional neglect can be different than how i portrayed it, and what I've written might not be considered as so. Be kind please, i am still not as good and i this is me trying :')

ily <3 shall i write a comfort one where he apologizes ?

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wreckedandpolemic · 10 months

Text

she's got a boyfriend anyway - matty healy

part ii - this tongue of mine

(mdni) once again i have nothing to say for myself!!!

warnings: 18+ mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), cheating, general filth

You’re sweating, flushed. The sheets tangle around your feet; you kick them away, but it only seems to make them cling tighter. A cool breeze flutters your curtains, cutting through the thick, cloying air of your room. You wander a curious hand down your body, taking your time with yourself, tweaking a nipple though your thin pyjama shirt and continuing down. You toy with the waistband of your panties for a moment before slipping your hand inside. Your stomach clenches, anticipatory; blood rushes up to your cheeks, face flaming. Eyes slipping shut, you picture that pretty face in your mind, imagining Matty until you can almost feel his cigarette-scented breath on your face.

Maybe you should feel guilty for the way even the mirage of Matty’s touch turns you on more than your boyfriend can in an entire dedicated evening. But the expectation that thrums between your legs drowns out everything else.

You run a finger over your pussy, gathering the wetness beginning to pool there. The taste of your arousal fills your senses as you drag your wet finger across your lips and into your mouth. Staccato breaths tumble from your lips, every rise and fall of your chest raising the temperature in your room until sweat sticks you to your mattress, damp hair plastering to your forehead. Your damp fingers creep back into your underwear, gently brushing your clit and sending the first bright jolt of pleasure buzzing up your spine. There’s no rush; you have all the time in the world, so you take it slow and gentle, rubbing soft circles into your sensitive nerves. Imagined-Matty smiles, the ghost of his hand skirting over yours, teasing your hungry clit. Pleasure builds slowly, pooling between your hips at a steady, satisfying pace. You work yourself up gradually, clenching around nothing until you can’t bear the emptiness anymore and finally, finally slip two fingers inside yourself. You gasp at the sudden fullness; it feels like coming home.

Your body acts without your control, whimpers falling unbidden from your lips, hips rolling unconsciously, chasing the pleasure licking across the inside of your skin. Tension builds in you, slow and sweet, sticky syrup filling your brain and glueing your thoughts together. You’re getting closer, your hips arching off your bed as you chase your high, when— Clink! Something rattles against your window, startling you into a slightly more conscious state. You wait a second, then, when silence echoes back at you, you pick your motions back up again.

Clink! Clink! Taptaptap. Giving up on ignoring it, you wipe your fingers on your sheets and pad over to your window, ready to chase away whatever animal has made its home there. Instead, you're greeted by Matty Healy's smirking face.

“Jesus Christ,” you hiss, sliding the window open. “You scared the shit out of me! I have got a front door, you know.” He still looks the same as he did when you left the party a few hours ago: messy curls dripping down the back of his neck, silver chain dangling sinfully between his collarbones, open floral shirt showing off his skinny, toned chest.

“‘S not as fun,” he answers with a smirk. “Can I come in?” He's already slung his leg through your window. Dickhead.

“You shouldn't,” you retort, but he follows you into your room anyway. You take a moment to adjust to how out of odds Matty seems against this backdrop: your bedroom, the peeling posters on the walls, the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling a lingering remnant of childhood that you've never felt embarrassed by until his curious gaze lingers on them a second too long.

“You shouldn't be here,” you repeat, glaring at him, thighs still sticking uncomfortably.

“Why not?” Matty counters, now playing with the jewellery on your nightstand. Looking at his hands sends a sick thrill through you, memories of his touch ghosting over your flushed skin. “Scared your boyfriend’ll find out? Trust me, love, I know how to keep a secret.”

You turn away so he won’t see your reaction, busying yourself toeing at some of the clutter littered across your floor to avoid feeling the heat creeping up your cheeks. You can’t hide from him for long, though, and you end up perched primly on the edge of your bed, picking at your nails just so you have something to look at.

“What are you still doing up, anyway?” he asks, stepping in front of you and forcing you to crane your neck to look in his eyes. He seems to properly take in your appearance for the first time, sweat plastering your hair to your neck, your thin, translucent shirt clinging to your body, nipples prominent through the fabric, lace underwear low on your hips, face still flushed. A smirk slides onto his face and cold dread clutches your belly. “You look like sex,” Matty says, unconsciously wetting his lips. He cups your jaw, lifting your head so you can’t avoid his searching, searing gaze.

“Perv,” you scoff, but it comes out softer, breathier than you intended, almost shy.

His mouth drops open in a silent gasp. “Were you getting off?” You can’t even deny it — your body betrays you, thighs clenching as you bury your face in your hands to hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. “Were you thinking about me?” he adds, voice raked over gravel and deep with arousal.

“No,” you bite back quickly, too quickly, embarrassment flooding you as a shit-eating grin splits his face.

“Fuck, you were,” he groans, raking a hand through his curls. “That’s fucking hot.”

You’re practically vibrating with nervous energy. “We shouldn’t—” you begin, attempting to shuffle up your bed away from him. He grabs your wrist to halt you.

“Your heart’s racing,” he interrupts, pressing his fingers to where your pulse hammers in your wrist. A shudder runs through you, the touch setting your skin on fire. You give up fighting, letting him press you flat against your bed, his lips so close to yours that you could kiss him without moving. Your glow-in-the-dark stars watch you disapprovingly. He smells like cigarettes and orange gin, on his breath, on his fingers, seeping through his pores. “Do I make you nervous?” he teases, his low voice reverberating under your very skin.

He knows exactly what he does to you.

“Yes,” you whisper, near-silent words lingering in the still air between you. Your heart speeds, tripping over itself as it stumbles at a crossroads; safety and familiarity and honesty forking off to dangerous allure. You shouldn’t be doing this. It’s wrong. But you want. Oh, God, how you want.

“I don't want you to be nervous,” he confesses. “I just want to make you feel good. The way he can’t.” You shudder at the reminder of your boyfriend, your perfect-on-paper boyfriend with big, clumsy hands that paw at you, who rubs at you like it’s a chore. Your boyfriend who charms your mother and has your friends squealing in jealousy and and never bothers to fucking ask if he’s doing it right, whether he’s touching your clit or just petting uselessly at your folds, who has no clue how to make you come. “You want me to, don’t you?”

“I think about it all the time,” you tell him quietly, as though speaking any louder would shatter the peaceful haze shimmering between you. He flips you so he’s laying on top of you, caging you in with his arms around your head. His eyes flicker down to your lips, so close to his that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin. Your eyes flutter closed when he cups your jaw, almost involuntarily arching up towards him. The warmth radiating from his skin heats you as he draws in, so close that his lips graze yours. A spark catches in your chest and you chase his lips as he pulls away.

“So needy,” he whispers, his soft laugh ghosting across your skin. “What do you think about?”

“You,” you whine immediately. “Touching me. making me come, over and over,”

He dips his head to kiss at your neck, and you squirm at the sensation. “Do you think about me when you’re with him?”

You nod almost imperceptibly. “Yeah,” you breathe. “‘S the only way I can make it feel good. But…” You bite your lip in trepidation. You’re not really sure why; you’re already past the point of no return. The air between you is electric, the few scant touches you’ve shared warming you through.

“But what, princess?”

You sigh. “But I think about you more after he’s gone. When I’m laying there, wet and horny and giving myself the orgasm I faked half an hour ago. That’s when I want you most,”

He gasps, rocking his hips instinctually, and you can feel the hard length of him through his jeans. The rough fabric grinds over your clothed clit and you whimper, fisting your hands in your delicate pink sheets. “Can you show me?” he asks, sticky sweet in your ear, then dips his head to kiss wetly at your neck and collarbone.

“What?”

He kneels up, hovering above you. “Show me how you touch yourself. I wanna know what you like, how to make it good for you.”

The words wipe your mind clean, your world narrowing down to your room, everything beyond your four walls ceasing to exist. Matty climbs off you, sitting expectantly at the foot of your bed. He watches you like you’re something divine, a shine in his eyes that you’ve never seen in your boyfriend’s. Your hands hover over your heated skin, unsure where to start, what he wants to see. You look up at him, uncertain, a question balanced on the tip of your tongue.

He’s palming his dick through his jeans, watching your chest rise and fall with every laboured breath. “Go on, princess. How do you start? Playing with those pretty tits of yours? A hand in your panties?” You follow his direction, pinching your nipple with one hand and dipping the other into your panties. His gaze on you is like a physical pressure, impossible to ignore. You close your eyes, exhaling nerves and taking in a deep, fortifying breath. Your mouth falls open as you skim over your clit, teasing. “Talk me through it, sweetheart. I need to know what gets you off, how to make you come apart for me.”

You moan quietly — a real moan, not the theatrical ones you put on for your boyfriend. You aren’t showing off for Matty, just reacting to your own touch. “I like to… I like taking it slow. I don’t– I won’t finger myself yet. I wanna get all worked up first.” He rolls his hips forward against his palm, his shirt falling open to reveal a gorgeous expanse of pale, inked chest. There’s something incredibly gratifying to you about the fact that he hasn’t even undressed, focused only on you, his own pleasure an afterthought still buttoned in his jeans.

You circle your clit a few more times, your head tipped back against the bedframe, watching Matty through lidded eyes. He magnifies every spark of pleasure, sending it washing over you twofold. Your cunt is fucking soaked, wetter than you think you’ve ever been as you dip a finger inside yourself. “Let me see,” he whines, something sweet and pathetic in his tone and you realise that somehow, you have the upper hand. He’s the one begging for you, the one holding himself back from touching you. All he wants is what only you have the power to give.

“You really wanna see?” He nods, almost frantically. You consider making him beg for it, but you want him almost as badly as he does you. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, you rock your hips up to slide them off your legs. They hang off your finger for a second before you toss them in his direction. A gasp falls from his lips and he holds your panties in front of his face for a second, disbelieving. “Keep ‘em,” you grin, internally shocked at your own bravado. He snaps out of his trance, shoving your panties into his pocket.

He locks eyes with you, a filthy grin stretched wide over spit-slick lips. He’s daring you, and you won’t be outdone. You dip two fingers in your wet cunt, the stretch familiar and delicious, burning between your thighs. You moan. “Fuck, you look amazing like that. Does that feel good?” You nod frenetically. “Yeah, I can tell. You make such pretty sounds, baby.” His words wash over you, amplifying the cocktail of illicit pleasure roiling in your gut. You hear him unzip his trousers and let your eyes fall to him as he frees his pretty, cut cock. It’s flushed red, dripping precum, and you savour the way his eyes roll back into his head when he wraps a hand around himself. He rocks his hips a couple of times, pace unsteady in a way you’ve never known him to be, in anything.

He’s entirely focused on you, gaze heating you to your core even through your closed lids. The only sounds are the slick, wet noises you make as you touch yourselves, until an impossibly loud moan rings out in the quiet, and you look over at him. Your stomach drops, melting into a puddle of arousal that practically gushes out of you. Matty has your pretty, lace panties wrapped around his cock.

“Feels amazing,” he groans. “A little bit rough, but I like it that way,” You watch, entranced, as he bucks his hips into his hand. A flare of arousal rockets through you, your body practically screaming at the sickeningly alluring sight. You circle your clit faster and faster, tension burning in all of your muscles, begging for release.

“Yeah?” you choke out between soft whines and low moans. “You gonna give it to me rough?”

He inhales sharply, hips stuttering. “I’ll give it to you any way you want it, princess. Love to see you bent over for me, legs shaking, fucking wrecking that pretty cunt. I’d fuck you so good you’d never be able to come without thinking of me. Send you trotting back off to your dull little boyfriend with a smack on the arse and my cum dripping down your thighs.”

Your cunt throbs near-painfully, vivid pictures coming to life in your mind. “I wanna… wanna ride you. Take control, proper control, just use you to get off. I deserve it,”

Matty groans. “Yeah… Yeah you do. I’d love you to do that to me, princess. You deserve to have your mind fucking blown,” he promises, finally settling into a rhythm, one that’s oddly familiar.

And you realise: he’s fucking his hand in time with you.

If you’d thought you were turned on before, it’s nothing compared to the liquid heat melting your brain into goo that leaks out of your ears. “Oh, God, Matty, fuck—” you gasp, watching him watch you, committing the sight to memory until it’s burned into your retinas. Every time you shut your eyes from now on, every time you’re lying deadly still as your boyfriend grunts on top of you, this is what you’ll picture. Matty, in your room, fucking himself with a pair of your wet panties in time with your slick motions at your cunt. You roll your hips faster, faster, relishing in the way Matty speeds up in tandem, incoherent moans falling from your lips. A few more sloppy thrusts, and the elastic band of tension in your belly snaps. You go supernova, imploding in a shower of sparks, collapsing in on yourself. You don’t have a body anymore, you’re amorphous, an instrument strumming one long, rapturous note.

But when you come to, you still want more. You’ve caught a taste of ecstasy on the tip of your tongue, and now you want to plunge your hands into it, swallow greedy mouthfuls until you’re gorged on it. Matty watches you rub your oversensitive, swollen clit with a grin, devouring your almost pained whimpers. “Not done, huh?” he asks, leaning forward with a predatory smirk. He wipes his sticky hand on your sheets, kneeling between your legs before you have a chance to protest. “You wanna make yourself cum again, baby? Or can I eat you?”

Your cheeks heat and you squirm. Your boyfriend put his mouth on you once, came up disgusted at the taste, leaving your cunt unpleasantly spit-slick and your body unaroused and mortified. You can’t think of anything more humiliating than a repeat of that. “You don’t…” you pause. “Only if– if you want to.”

He groans. “If I want to?” he repeats as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. “Princess, I can’t think of anything I want more.” His gaze is locked on your glistening wet cunt, eyes gleaming with an almost feral hunger.

“O– Okay,” you say. “Yeah. I want that. It’s just because he doesn’t like to… You know.” You shrug helplessly as he gets closer.

“Doesn’t like to…?” he echoes incredulously. “Fuck. I can’t believe that pathetic excuse for a man you call a boyfriend doesn’t bury his head in that sweet cunt every chance he gets.” He lays next to you, heat radiating off his slim body. “Sit on my face,” he orders, and you shudder, his words sending warm pleasure rippling through you. You clamber awkwardly onto him and grip your headboard for leverage, your cunt hovering over his mouth.

He grasps your thighs, chipped black nails denting your skin. You kind of hope he leaves a mark, unavoidable evidence of the sin you’re committing. Not that your boyfriend would even notice, considering he’s just— You shake your head. You aren’t thinking about him. He’s nothing. Not when Matty’s mouth is inches from your cunt. “Don’t hold back, baby.” he insists. “You wanna ride me? Ride my face. I want you to use me.” You’re frozen, paralysed by sick desire. You gasp as the tip of his tongue flicks across your soaked pussy. “You taste fucking amazing, princess. Come on… Let me make you feel amazing,”

You lower yourself onto his face, unable to hold back the moan that falls from your lips when he licks a broad stripe along your cunt, lapping at your clit deliciously. He kisses all over your thighs, scrapes with his teeth, sucks soothingly at the tender skin, sensation changing so fast it gives you whiplash. You’re a livewire more than a girl, sparked by sensation. He tugs at your thighs, bringing your full weight down on him, and roams his tongue all over you like a starved man. Your hips roll unprompted, trying to force his tongue deeper into you. Breath coming in short, sharp gasps, you grind on him, his nose bumping your clit and sending shocks of pleasure cascading over you.

“That’s it,” he moans, his voice vibrating gloriously through you. Slick sounds fill your room, your soaking wet cunt dripping on his face as he tongue-fucks you into oblivion. Your thighs shake from the effort of holding yourself up, but you’ll surely die if you try to remove yourself from his mouth. Your heart smashes against your ribs, leaving you gasping for air as he practically swallows you whole.

You ride his face with abandon, sure that the pace of your hips is lighting your skin on fire. The pool of heat in your belly grows, you feel loose on your bones, melting into a puddle of bliss that gushes across Matty’s lips and chin. His tongue works at you over and over, and you thank every god you can think of for the way he dives into your cunt, skilled and clever and sure. You’re almost there, erratic bursts of pleasure striking you every time his nose grazes your clit. You grip his hair harshly and he moans, the sensation enough to pitch you over the edge, screaming so loud that you’re scared you might wake the neighbours. You come harder than you think you ever have before, body burning up like you’re kindling and Matty is the match; this was your destination from the first touch. He fans the flames, still licking at you, overstimulation crowding your senses, pressing on your chest, lungs, mind until nothing else exists.

“Wait,” you gasp as you climb off him. “You haven’t—” His grin silences you, face still dripping wet with you. “You…? From…?” You moan when he nods. “Jesus. That’s fucking hot,” you murmur, an echo of the words that got you into this mess in the first place. Clumsily, you manoeuvre so that you’re laying next to him, matching sweat-soaked skin. There’s something comical about the way you’re dressed, you in your thin pyjama shirt and nothing else, him still pretty much fully-dressed with his dick hanging out of his trousers. Cum pools on his belly and seeps into his cargos, the sight disgustingly hot.

One of your hands reaches out without your permission and before you can even think, you drag a finger through the mess on Matty’s stomach and draw it into your mouth. You show off for him, swirling your tongue around your finger, moaning pornographically. The salty taste of him fills your senses, and when you release your finger from your mouth, you wipe the spit trail across his cheek with a grin. He’s breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, heavy, sex-scented air filling his lungs. You go in for the killshot. “You taste so much better than him,” you whisper. You wait for the light brush of shame, the creep of guilt, but it doesn’t come. If something that feels so unbelievably good is a sin, then, shit, you’ll turn your back on God and embrace the flames. You just might love the way they lick up your spine and char your bones anyway.

All at once, he surges forward to kiss you, and the taste of you on his tongue, smeared across his lips and chin, makes your eyes fly open. You let them slip shut again, savouring the way your arousal twines with his in your mouth, and moan into his kiss. His hand travels down your body, pinching a clothed nipple and finding your bare cunt. The first touch has you writhing; he’s blowing on the embers of a barely-extinguished blaze.

“Think you can handle one more?” he teases.

You grin. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet, Healy.”

#matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 smut #the 1975 fanfic #she's got a boyfriend anyway #writing #smut #Ok i think this one is actually good BE NICE PLEASE

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somewherebetweendisorder · 6 months

Text

A muffled giggle fills the air, hushed, choked as it's swiftly silenced. Usually, you would ignore it, knowing Eddie is prone to outbursts, but he left to shower forty-five minutes ago and still has yet to return from the bathroom. Standing, you stretch, reaching your arms above your head, groaning when your back clicks. Immediately you miss the warmth of Eddie's bed. Still, suspicion is winning an unspoken battle against your comfort, propelling you towards the tiny bathroom, yellow light spilling in an oily pool beneath the door. It's nearly silent inside the cramped bath, save for the rickety hum of the vent, until a hiss sounds from the other side of the door. It almost sounds like a can of cool whip; the shake and spray sounds are nearly unmistakable. It takes a moment for it to click before you shove the door open.

"Are you using my hair stuff again?"

It was meant as a joke, your voice light, teasing. This has been a recurring issue, so you hadn't been expecting any real trouble, that is until you saw the endless amount of white fluff that Eddie had squirted out of the can.

"Oh, shit."

The words are whispered as he hastily tries to hide his hand full of your new hair product behind his back. It's a foaming mousse you had been pining after for months, finally caving to buy yourself a can yesterday.

"Eddie Munson, do you have any idea how much that shit costs?!"

"Okay, babe, listen. Before you get mad-"

"We're already past that, Munson."

His eyes are wide, pleading, a tiny smile tugging at his lips despite himself, still humored by the mess he's currently hiding behind his back.

"I'm sorry." The smile slips from his face just long enough to make the apology seem genuine, but then he's shoving his hand in your face and grinning again. "But look!"

In his palm are three large globs of foam, stacked one atop another like a snowman. He's giggling again, moving his hand to make the creation jiggle, sending him into further hysterics.

"Jesus, Munson, you are a child." You aren't mad. How could you be? It's super wasteful, but you can worry about that later.

Right now, your focus is on the man across from you, wavy hair damp and plastered to his head, yet to be touched by the mousse. "Are you actually going to use it though?"

He blinked slowly as though the thought hadn't crossed his mind until now. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

The sigh that breezes past your lips is heavy, affectionate, but weary just the same. "Oh, Eds. C'mon let me help. No need to let it go to waste."

You dip your fingers into the foam, starting at his roots and massaging it into his thick hair. His eyelids flutter closed, lips parting in innocent pleasure, enjoying the plainly intimate gesture.

It's nothing new, you show your love often this way, but it never ceases to catch him off guard. The thought that someone can love him this way. The fact that someone does.

The supply in his hands is endless, with way too much leftover even after you've sectioned off his hair and meticulously applied the product. He watches your lips purse, teeth toying gently with the flesh as you try to figure out what to do with the rest. It's sweet, has his mind spiraling down a different path, something to thank you with when you're finished taking care of him.

"Just add the rest. It can't hurt, right? I mean, my hair will just be extra glamorous."

Your brow furrows as you think over his words, nodding slowly. It probably wouldn't hurt, at least not much.

"I'm so mad you did this. I will never forgive you."

You ignore his pout, working your fingers through his hair in the same path as before, not stopping him from dotting kisses along your jaw, down your neck, across your collar bone peeking out of his shirt.

"'M sorry. Was just too much fun."

When the last glob is worked carefully into the ends of his hair, you take a step back and squint. His dark locks are tinted white from the abundance of thick foam, looking almost gray. He spares a glance in the mirror and snorts.

"I have the hair of an old man."

"A glamorous old man. At least there's that."

He's distracted again, his lips finding your skin, teeth nipping at the soft pulse in your neck, hands settling on your hips.

"C'mon. I have to thank you for saving me from the abominable foam monster."

"Oh, is that right?" Your voice pitches high, breathy as he sinks his teeth in, leaving a mark.

"Yeah. That okay?"

You pull his head away from your neck, avoiding his overly saturated hair. His eyes are wide, dark, pupils already blown just at the thoughts bouncing around in his head. Who are you to deny him the satisfaction?

"More than okay. Lead the way, Munson."

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #jason todd x reader #eddie munson smut

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lanitalay · 7 months

Text

Before I Say Goodnight

Chapter 3

A/n: Chapter 3 yay. Ngl i got feels towards the end. This is a sweet one. I kind of love the Band of exiles dynamic.

Other chapters

“Great, Cassian will pick you up in the morning”.

“Ok” you say between bites. “I have to get some things done before morning, but try to sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow” she stands and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. Ok so maybe this Rhysand can help. Hopefully. If they are really worried about an unguarded portal then maybe they’ll hurry to send me back and close it up. The thought brings you a bit of peace. Finishing the stew you get up from the bed and place the bowl on the dresser. You look in the mirror and decide that you can’t wear the dress tomorrow,it’s far too long and, honestly, riding side-saddle was terrible, so you resolve to dig up your leggings and sports bra. Now that they have fully dried, the mud and sweat created a layer of crust and the smell… Ew. You bring them to the bathing room and scrub them until they have returned to their normal color. Hopefully they’ll be dry by morning. An idea pops up. You take the damp clothes down the stairs and place them near the crackling hearth. I’m so smart. Then remember the bowl left on the dresser, groaning to yourself as you walk back up the stairs, pick the bowl up and return it to the kitchen.

Jurian is sitting at the table with a cup of tea and a book. He looks quaint, much different then the rough looking man you’ve seen the last day. He looks up, sensing someone in the room and his eyes land on the bowl in your hands. “Beef stew is my specialty,” he says with a sly smile. “It was delicious, thank you” walking over to the basin, you wash the bowl and set it to dry with the rest of the dishes. “Tea?” He asks and motions to the pot on the wood stove. “That would be great, actually” you pour yourself a cup and sit down next to him. The tea is mint and there is another flavor that has hints of lavender. You breathe the scent in and try to ground yourself. Finding that if you are not doing something or talking you spiral and begin to think about home. Home. It's been more than 24 hours now. They probably think I’m lost in the woods. You shake your head and ask Jurian “are you human?” He looks up from the book and says nothing. You open your mouth and close it and then say “sorry, I just noticed that you have round ears and Lucien has pointed ears and also Vassa has round ears and the man from earlier had round ears but he had wings and… well in my world all humans have round ears so I'm guessing you’re human and if this is an offensive question I’m sorry. I'm rambling now. I’ll shut up” you look away and sip your tea. Maybe solo travel completely stunted my social skills. Oh god kill me now. Jurian chuckles “it’s fine, yes I’m human, Vassa is also human but she’s been cursed to be a firebird by day, Lucien is High fae and Cassian is Ilyrian. Any other questions?” About a million. “Vassa is a firebird by day?” That seemed like the most important detail. “Yes, it’s a long story though, and it’s also not mine so if you want more details ask her” fair enough. “Ok… how old are you?” He looked like he could be in his mid thirties but something about him felt off. “About 500” you choke on nothing and look at him wide eyed. He chuckles “I’m sensing a follow up question so I’ll elaborate. Yes I’m human, yes I’ve been alive for 500 years. How is that possible? Well 500 years ago there was this war that was fought by humans against the fae and I did some… bad things that got me dismembered and kept conscious in the ring and necklace of this truly awful female. Anyways, there was another war recently where a very powerful king found the cauldron and harnessed its power to resurrect me. Well, to put me back together and now here I am” he motions to himself and smiles bright. Jesus. “And I thought my life was hard, why did they resurrect you?” He sighs “The king was unhappy with the result of the last war and wanted me to help him invade the human lands and enslave the humans.” You put down the cup and ask “So there is no war happening currently?” “No, not right now but Koschei,he’s another powerful king, is up to something. Not sure what it is though”. “I see” you fiddle with your thumbs and ask another question “Vassa said that I’m supposed to go to the Night Court? Is it far?” He nods “ah, that’s right. Rhysand wants to question you. I suppose you have no idea where anything is. Come with me” he stands and walks out of the kitchen and crosses the house until he reaches two double doors.

When you walk in you see shelves and shelves of books. Oh my god it’s a library. Sick. “Here we are” Jurian says as he pulls out a large book titled “Geography of Prythian and its Surroundings” he opens up and gestures to the bottom of the page. “We are here, these are the mortal lands, pretty self explanatory. You showed up around here” he points “that is the Spring Court, there are seven, as you can see. The Night Court is all the way up here” he points to the north of the map. “Wait, so how am I going to get there tomorrow? That’s at least a few days by horse” he hums. “I’m pretty sure it's only a few hours by flight”. Oh no. There’s no way. “What?” “You’ll be flying, hope you’re not afraid of heights” he smirks, sensing your fear. “And if I refuse?” “Well, they are your best chance of getting back home. If you think I’m old just wait till you meet some of the people at Rhysand's court. They should know something about portals”. “That’s great” you say in a monotone voice. “Listen, I’m going to call it a night but feel free to stay here if you want”. You nod as he walks out of the library. There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight. You resolve to stay and read the book. Gleaning as much information about this world as you can and not taking note of the time. You doze off on the chair and wake up to the sound of the book hitting the ground. Taking a deep breath and putting the book away, you make your way to your room and fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

The next morning breakfast is the same: warm bread, cheese and tea. Lucien sits in front of you as you scarf down the meal, having woken up very hungry. “Do they have food where you’re from?” You swallow and scowl at him, “of course we do. We have bread and cheese and tea and chocolate and coffee”. I miss coffee so much and it’s only been two days. “Well you’re eating like a woman starved” you sip your tea and roll your eyes. “Why are you so grumpy? And if you must know I think I’m stress eating. It’s a normal reaction for someone in my situation. Is pie a thing here? I could really go for some pie right now” he seems unimpressed. “I’m not grumpy and yes pie is a thing here. I’ll see what I can do to find some, we are a bit secluded from the nearest village” you beam. “Really? You’d get me pie?” he nods “oh thank you!” You can’t help yourself as you get up from your chair and throw your arms around him in a hug. “I haven’t gotten you anything yet” you straighten up “but it’s the thought that counts”.

“When is this Cassian guy supposed to get here?” you ask Lucien as you pack your bag for the trip. You suppose it’s only a day and you’ll be back by nightfall but you want to have your things with you just in case and having a water bottle and snacks is always handy. “Soon” you groan “but when-” before you can say anything else a knock comes from the front door. Lucien goes to open it and reveals Cassian waiting on the other side. “Sorry I’m late, the morning got away from me. If you’re ready we can leave now” he finishes looking at you. You get up and put the bag on “I’m ready”.

“Ok so how does this work?” you ask Cassian. “Well I’ll carry you in my arms and then I’ll take off. It’s a little scary at first but I’m not gonna drop you. Promise” He flashes you a grin and you let out a shaky breath “Listen, I am terrified of heights so please, no sudden movements” he nods curtly and holds out his arms for you. You step closer and hear Lucien snicker at your visible discomfort. “Stop it, Lucien!” you whine as Cassian grabs you and you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life. “Ok, I’m ready” you scream as he takes off. “It’s ok, the take off is the bumpiest part” you try to speak but nothing comes out as you see how high you’ve gotten in a matter of seconds. You press your eyes shut, refusing to look down and try to steady your breath. I am at home watching tv. I just fell asleep. This is just a very long and convoluted lucid dream. “So tell me, how’s life with the band of exiles?” Cassian attempts to make conversation “Uhm… it’s fine, ah! They have been very nice and accommodating. Whoa!” you hold on even tighter as he dodges some rain. This is all the rain’s fault. Stupid rain. “Sorry and I’m sorry for offending you yesterday, it was not my intention” you gulp “it’s ok, I’ve been on edge recently, ha ha” you shut your eyes again “how much longer do we have left?” Cassian looks at you and you don’t see the pity in his eyes as he answers “about an hour” kill me now “oh god”.

When Cassian finally puts you down you nearly collapse in relief. “Come on, the meeting is through here” you follow him inside the mountain building and try your best to keep up but his legs are probably twice as long as yours and you’re also still a bit dizzy from the flight. “We’re here!” he says as he walks into a dining room full of the prettiest people, or fae, you’ve ever seen. The male with night black hair and purple eyes says “yes the guest of honor, please sit” you nod and sit next to Cassian. The group all introduce themselves and then the female you now know as Feyre asks you “y/n please tell us, with as many details as you can recall, how you got here” and so you tell them. Trying your best to remember all of it. The rain, the wind, the rocks, the mushrooms. Rhysand then says “can you show me?” you look confused so he elaborates “I can access your mind and see everything you have seen, I would only be accessing that memory though” you nod “do i just sit here?” “Yes, it won’t hurt and it will only be a second” you look around and feel a gentle scrape within your mind and then you’re back in Scotland showing Rhysand what you saw. When he’s done you sag a bit, having to relive your last moments on Earth had been unsettling to say the least and watching yourself in a third person point of view made you want to scream at your past self to just stay on the path. I should’ve just kept walking. Rhysand showed Feyre and Amren and then Mor and then Azriel. “I’ll see what I have about portals, but I’ll warn you that I have never heard of traveling to a whole different realm. Other worlds, yes, maybe. A portal from point A to point B within the same world, of course. But this… this has bigger implications than anything I've seen before” Amren says matter of factly. Your eyes sting and your breathing becomes shallow. She can’t be right. “I’ll tell Nesta to get a group of priestesses to help research” Feyre says and then Cassian adds “I think we should add a patrol to the clearing, the weakened Spring Court borders and the portal business seems like a great opportunity in the wrong hands”. Rhysand and Feyre nod “I can send a few of my spies down there tomorrow” Azriel. “Y/n, you’re free to stay wherever you'd like. But we have a few rooms here if you want to help with the research. I’m sure Lucien, Jurian and Vassa have been very hospitable but they are pretty isolated and I’d feel better if you stayed here”. You try to take it all in but the despair… the sorrow is taking over you and you feel numb. They’re going to think I’m dead. A few tears fall and you nod, “I can stay, but I’d like to get some things I left at the house” . You were mainly thinking of the only change of clothes you had and saying goodbye to the exiles that had offered you shelter when you needed it the most.

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Firehouse Harrington - Chapter 5

fireman!Steve x f!reader/f!oc

series masterlist

Steve is still recovering from his injuries. She's just trying to help. But tensions run high when they clash over who knows best.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, really rough sex, degradation kink, slight dubcon, also angst because, duh

a/n | wooh boy! I got a little carried away here, folks. Had the day off and couldn't help myself. get yourself a tall glass of water and sit down for a long one

“You’re healing nicely, son. I’ll send another refill script to your pharmacy for the oxycodone and I wanna see you back in a month, alright? Wanna keep an eye on those headaches you’re having.” Steve grunts out a thank you to the doctor as he’s led back to the front desk. After three weeks, he’s still not used to seeing her, sitting and waiting for him after his appointments at the VA medical center. She’s been coming with him whenever she can and he would hate to admit how much it means to him.

She offers him a bright smile from where she’s sitting in the waiting room, a large stack of index cards in her lap. With Thanksgiving next week, her exams are fast-approaching and she’s been studying so hard it makes Steve worry that she’s working herself to the bone, and that he hasn’t exactly been helping her stress-load. Since the week after Halloween, she’s all but moved in with him, save for when her RA job or classes demand she be on campus. She’s been taking care of him, and it both amazes and terrifies Steve that she’s willing to, while all he can really do is be a human rolodex for her endless supply of flashcards. She’s been having him quiz her in the evenings, her hands around his neck and her thighs straddling his waist as she rattles off insanely-smart sounding descriptions of the brain. His girl is studying neuroscience, and his girl is going to be a doctor, and then, Steve figures, his girl isn’t going to be his girl anymore. But for now, he’ll enjoy whatever sweetness she’ll give to him.

He finishes scheduling his follow-up, turning and finding her already standing with her bag slung over her shoulder. He opens the door for her and they step out into the sharp bite of the oncoming winter.

“Well, what did he say?” Steve’s apartment is only a few blocks away from the medical center, so they set off down the sidewalk as she asks her question.

“Said everything looks good. My next appointment is in a month, gave me another prescription for the painkillers.” He feels her hand flex in his and he knows it’s because she doesn’t like the sound of that.

“What about your headaches?” He shrugs, glancing at her and seeing the worried look on her face.

“He said he’d keep an eye on it, whatever that means.” She stops in her tracks, fully looking at him now. He just sighs.

“Steve, I really don’t like how they’re just feeding you these pills. Has anyone said anything about getting you in an MRI machine?” He huffs, tugging her along to continue walking.

“Baby, it’s fine. Nothing new, really. Once I get back to work it’ll go away on its own, it always does.” His paid-time-off is ending after Thanksgiving, and Steve is chomping at the bit to get back into the station, to her much-vocalized dismay. She stops walking again, and he tries his best to tamp down his growing frustration.

“I still think you should let me–” “No.” “Steve.”

“No. You’ve already done way too much for me. I’m not letting you do that.”

“You would be helping me out by coming in. You know I need the practice, i-it’d be killing two birds with one stone.” She had told him two weeks ago about one of her specialty courses at the university medical center, conducting brain scans and assessments that were free to volunteer patients. She had been bugging Steve about coming in ever since, but he was putting his foot down on this one.

“Hey, I’m sick of all this nagging, alright? I told you it’s fine and I meant it. Making my fucking headache worse, jesus. Just wanna get home.” He can see her face crumple at his words and his stomach twists, but he’s too pissed off and cold to really feel sorry, instead squeezing her hand and continuing their walk home. She’s silent the rest of the way.

…

Steve is really starting to worry her. At first, he had seemed to be making a change, being endlessly sweet with her, letting her take care of him, even opening up a bit about his life. She knows his concussion symptoms are lasting well within a normal amount of time, but it seems like some of them are getting worse. He’s been more irritable, more reactive, his headaches are endless, but he won’t listen to a word she says about it. She had talked to Robin over the phone about it, and she had told her his irritability could also be stemming from the impending holiday. Steve wasn’t exactly on good terms with his family, something he had only hinted at to her, and hadn’t been home for Thanksgiving or Christmas in five years. As a result, he turned into a bit of a scrooge (Robin’s words) the instant that the holiday season kicked up.

Perhaps more than anything though, she doesn’t understand why he’s so eager to get back to work after he nearly died on the job. She had actually started inquiring at her school about admittance for veterans, reading whatever information she could get her hands on. It’d be practically free at a state school like Indiana University, with vets nearly sure to be accepted. She hadn’t yet broached the subject with him, knowing it’d probably lead to a huge blowout argument, but she had convinced him to do Thanksgiving with her, just the two of them, and was planning to get him good and sedated on turkey and stuffing before bringing it up.

When they get back to his place after his appointment, he barely looks at her, mumbling that he’s going to lie down for a while. She already knows he’s going to be looking for his bottle of oxycodone, which she had flushed down the toilet that morning. She had talked to one of her supervising professors about the medication, posing questions from a place of clinical curiosity, and had learned just how wickedly potent the stuff was. Steve shouldn’t have been on it for more than a week max, and it was now coming up on a month of doctors filling the prescription for him. She had decided then and there that she was going to get him off it, kicking and screaming if she had to.

She sits down on the couch, pressing her fingers into her temples and waiting for his inevitable question about where his pills are. She can hear him rummaging in the bathroom, and then in the nightstands in his bedroom. All of the sudden, his movements still, and she can hear his bare feet padding back into the living room. Her heart sinks when she sees that he’s holding the pamphlets she had gathered about veteran’s admission to IU in his hand. She must have left them in the nightstand on her side of his bed. Shit. His expression is cool, steeled, as he waves the pamphlets in front of her.

“Care to tell me what this is?” Her mouth had gone completely dry, and a thickness settled in her throat.

“Um, I– um–” He cuts her off, shuffling over to stand in front of her, bending at the waist to get in her space.

“Um, um, um. C’mon, miss college. Thought you were a big girl. Use your words.” He’s practically sneering at her with the way he’s talking and it makes her feel impossibly small under his flashing gaze. She gulps a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

“Steve, I’m just trying to help–” He scoffs, standing back upright and starting to pace the floor.

“You think you know what’s best for me? Think you’re so much smarter than me, huh? Gotta help your poor, stupid boyfriend get along, is that it?” She shakes her head vigorously, going to stand but he’s back on her in an instant, resting his hands on the back of the couch to cage her between his arms. She shrinks back into the seat.

“That’s not what I think, Steve. I-I just want you to have options, that’s it! All I did was ask around in the admissions office, it doesn’t mean a-anything, baby. I just thought it’d be helpful for you.” He lets out a humorless laugh, his sharp eyes fixing her in place.

“Well it’s not. Quit trying to mess with shit you don’t understand.” With that he’s turning heel so fast it makes her choke, storming back into the bedroom. A beat later she starts hearing loud clattering.

“Where are my fucking pills? Goddamnit!” She jumps in her seat at his roaring words, punctuated by the sound of what she assumes is one of his nightstands getting thrown on the floor. She sits there for a moment trying to steady her breathing, the continuous sounds of slamming drawers and muttered curses coming from Steve causing her heart to jump. Finally, all the commotion stills and she thinks to herself that she liked it better when he was at least making sound.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she slowly stands, inching towards the bedroom on tenterhooks. She holds onto the doorframe, peering into the room. Both nightstands are tipped onto the floor, their drawers skewed open and the contents strewn on the floor. The wooden bureau that sits across from Steve’s bed has been shoved a few inches out of place, its drawers all open and the clothes usually neatly folded inside in various states of spilling out. Steve’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging harshly at the roots of his hair, his chest heaving. She really doesn’t want to do what she’s about to have to. She inches into the room, kneeling down in front of him to try to catch his gaze. She reaches out for him but he swats her hand away.

“Don’t. Fuck, baby. Don’t know where I put my damn pills. I-I need ‘em so bad right now.” His voice is a broken grumble and she feels a sharp twinge in her stomach at his words. It’s time to rip the band-aid off.

“Steve, baby? I know your head’s hurting, but you can’t keep taking those, ok? Why don’t I get you some advil? I know it’s not the same, but we can do that combined with tylenol and it should start to help.” He finally looks at her, and the anger in his eyes is breathtaking, causing her to sit back on her haunches.

“What did you do with them?” She takes a sharp breath in, watching Steve’s knuckles go white where he’s still tugging at his hair. She’s not going to let him scare her, not on this. She squares her shoulders, slowly standing in front of him. She hates that there’s still a warble in her voice when she finally speaks.

“I-I threw them away, Steve. They’re no good for you, and that has become painfully clear this afternoon.” His jaw goes slack at her words, but he quickly catches himself, swallowing hard and glaring up at her.

“Well, that’s not really your decision to make, sweetie.” He stands, brushing past her out towards the front door, starting to toe on his shoes. She follows dumbly behind him.

“Where are you going?” He doesn’t even glance at her, already shrugging on his coat.

“The pharmacy. Gonna get my new prescription since someone has to make everything so goddamn difficult.” She swallows hard.

“I-I called the pharmacy this morning too. Told them that under no circumstances should they fill any more oxy scripts for you. Steve, please–” He lets out a bark of laugh that startles her where she stands, whistling low as he finally sizes her up.

“You are something else, bunny. Really think you know better than me, don’t ya?” He’s started slinking towards her, causing her to back up until she’s pressing up against the wall. He presses a forearm up by her temple, leaning into her. She’s trying to not dissolve on the spot.

“Steve, that’s not what this is about. I-I talked with one of my professors about those pills. He told me it's some of the nastiest stuff out there. People get addicted to them all the time. Please, I just wanna help you.” His other hand has come down to grip her hip harshly, his fingers flexing into the skin and sure to leave bruises.

“Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and stop trying to play doctor on me. You wanna help? Here’s how you can help. If you’re so hell-bent on taking away my pills, my relief, I think it’s only fair you make it up to me, don’t you?” She’s trying to steady her breathing, but can’t help the light gasps that rise as Steve nudges the slope of her neck with his nose. He harshly grabs her jaw, forcing her gaze to focus on his steely expression. She hates that there’s already a simmering heat trailing down her spine.

“Words, now.”

“O-okay, Steve. I’ll m-make it up to you, w-whatever you want, baby. I’m s-s-sorry.” His smile is slick, not reaching his eyes.

“Want you on your knees, pretty. Can you do that? Be good for me and do what you’re told, for once.”

“Yes, Steve–” He cuts her off with a sharp squeeze to her jaw that makes her whimper.

“Not my name. Not right now.”

“Yes, daddy. I’ll be good for you.” Part of her wants to leave, just grab her bag and go. But she’s fixed to the spot by the way he’s looking at her. She figures it’ll be quick, a rough blowjob and then Steve will finally calm down, so she complies, kneeling down in front of him while he starts working at his belt buckle.

She goes to reach for his hips when he starts to unzip his jeans but he immediately swats her hands away.

“Uh-uh. You don’t get to touch. You don’t even get to think. That pretty head of yours has done enough thinking for a while. Just gotta sit there, open your mouth, and take it, you understand?” She nods as he comes behind her, drawing both her wrists back. When she feels the soft leather of his belt circling her wrists she shudders. She winces when he tugs the loop tight.

“C’mon, if you’re so smart why don’t you use your fucking words?” She gasps when he pulls on the belt, making her fall back onto her ass, her back crashing into his heaving chest.

“Yes, daddy. I understand.” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own anymore, entering that higher, breathier register that she knows only Steve can draw out. He grunts at that, squeezing her hips to help her back onto her knees before he’s getting up and coming back in front of her. He slips his jeans and boxers down just enough to tug his cock out, already hard as he fists himself. Stepping forward, he cards his fingers through her hair, tugging harshly to tilt her face up towards him.

“Open your mouth, bunny. You better be good for me.” She complies, letting her jaw slacken and Steve’s on her in an instant, forcing his thick cock past her lips as he holds onto her hair for leverage. She can’t help the small, sputtering chokes that come out around his length as he already begins fucking her mouth, getting deeper with each thrust. Normally, he’d give her time to work her way up to taking all of him, it wasn’t exactly an option to just go for it with his length if she didn’t want to gag. But Steve didn’t seem too concerned with that today, already grazing her throat with his tip.

“Fuck– that’s perfect– just take it, bunny– s’what your pretty little mouth is made for– don’t want you thinking– shit– or talking– just keep your lips around my cock all the time, huh?” She can’t exactly respond to his degrading words with the way he’s dragging her mouth up and down his cock, his fist in her hair guiding her. But she guesses he’s not really looking for a reply.

“What would your little egghead professors think– shit, take it– if they knew their star student spent her time sucking dick like a f-fucking whore, huh?” His words sting, but she hates to admit that they send a clenching ache right through her core too. Unfortunately, Steve seems to notice the way her thighs are clenching at his words and he lets out a jeering laugh.

“Aw, you like that, bunny? You like it when I call you a whore, huh? Guess you’re not as smart as you think you are, just a dumb slut for her daddy’s cock.” His thrusts are unrelenting, now hitting the back of her throat everytime, causing her to gag and sputter around his cock. She can’t help but wriggle her arms against the belt confining them, trying to find some purchase as he uses her mouth but with no success. On the next thrust, Steve’s hips still with his cock down her throat, her nose crushed up against his pelvis. Drool is dripping down her chin as she chokes around him. He just holds her there, and she starts to panic, trying to fight against the hold he has in her hair.

“You don’t need air, do you, pretty? Just need my cock down your throat, right? S’all you need, you stupid slut.” He finally relents, pulling out of her mouth and she’s a wheezing mess, coughing out exhales as she hunches over her shivering body. He’s still hard, but he tucks himself back into his boxers, watching her reel on the floor. Before she can catch her breath, he’s hauling her up by her armpits and pressing her back against the wall, her hands still bound behind her. The way he holds her jaw, fingers skating over her cheeks, is startlingly tender as he drinks in her cockdrunk appearance. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks.

“Look at you, bunny. So pretty for me.” Something in her snaps, her lip starting to wobble as tears pool over her lashes. Steve sighs and she shivers under his delicate touch as he wipes away the first tears to fall.

“What’s got you crying, baby? I don’t like it when you cry, at least not very much.” His grin is sardonic and entirely patronizing as he watches her crumble. She’s trying to stifle the sobs that want to flood her body, her words coming out on heavy shudders.

“You’re s-s-so mean, Steve. I-I j-j-just wanted to h-h-help you.” He tuts, drawing his fingers under her chin to tilt her eyes up to his.

“Aw, you did help, pretty. You and that perfect little mouth of yours. And you know what else? I think you liked it.” With that, he wrenches one of his hands into the front of her jeans, cupping her cunt and stroking harshly through her folds. She lets out a broken gasp at his brutal movement. Steve just chuckles.

“See, bunny? You’re fucking soaked. All because daddy fucked your little throat, huh?” He easily slips two fingers into her, curving them in a way that makes her let out a long, preening cry. She stumbles in his grip, pressing her forehead into his shoulder as he starts fucking her with his fingers.

“P-please, daddy, it’s too much.” He scoffs in her ear, not letting up with his relentless thrusts.

“I know what’s too much for you, bunny. Daddy knows what’s best, right?” When she doesn’t answer, his other hand comes down in a harsh crack on the outside of her thigh and she yelps.

“Y-yes, daddy. You know w-what’s best!” She can feel his smile in her hair as he abruptly removes his fingers, causing her to slump in his hold.

“Atta girl, I think that little brain of yours is finally starting to get it right.” She can’t tell where the pleasure ends and the pain from his words begins, but she knows that the more he says, the more poison that drips off his tongue, the smaller she feels in his grip. Holding her in his arms, he walks them over to the couch, facing her towards the arm rest and bending her over it, her cheek smearing into one of the cushions. Her arms are still bound behind her back and she’s all but given up tugging at them, but Steve seems to notice her squirming.

“If I take the belt off will you be good for me, bunny?”

“Yes– yes, I will, daddy– please– be so good for you.” He shushes her, laying a kiss in the middle of her spine before finally unwinding the belt from her wrists. She flexes her hands, whimpering at the ache that’s already set into her joints. Steve presses a kiss to both of her wrists and she can’t help the shudder that runs through her at his gentle movements.

“There you go, baby. I know it hurts, I’m sorry. Gonna make you feel so much better.” His hands snake under her waist, undoing her jeans before sliding them down her legs. His rough palms splay over the swell of her ass, squeezing the flesh and making her gasp.

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel good, bunny. I promise. But, I just don’t think you’ve quite learned your lesson.” She jolts at that, craning her neck to look at him.

“No– I have! I promise I have, daddy!” He chuckles, catching her off guard when he lands a harsh smack to her ass that sends her lurching forward into the couch.

“You saying you know better than daddy, baby?” She shakes her head, burying her face into her forearms.

“N-no, daddy. Just don’t want it to hurt.”

“Aw, pretty, you won’t learn if it doesn’t hurt, yeah?” He runs his palms up and down her spine, a soothing before the storm.

“Tell you what. Since you’re being so good for me now, we’ll just do five alright? No belt, just my hand.” That’s a small mercy. She hates when he uses the belt, and he knows it. She sighs, nodding her acceptance.

“Does that first one count?” He chuckles, hands squeezing her hips.

“I don’t think so, pretty. That one was a warning, these five are punishment. You think your little brain can handle counting them for me?” She huffs at that, he’s twisting an already deep knife in her gut, but she nods.

The first blow is quick and she yelps out “one!” For a while after, he just rubs his palms on her ass to the point that her legs start trembling in anticipation. He abruptly lands the second and third in the same spot and she shrieks out the count. She already knows that he’s aiming to leave a mark. The fourth and fifth come quick too and she’s been reduced to a mess in the aftermath. Tears are streaming down her face and her whole body shivers under his touch, but she can also feel the wetness smearing across the inside of her thighs. Steve leans over her, draping his warm chest across her back and she reaches a hand back to grab onto his thigh.

“Did so good for me, baby. My good girl, huh?” He presses a kiss into her temple before he hoists her up, keeping her back pressed to his chest as she’s all but slack in his arms. He helps her step out of her jeans and panties, turning her around in his arms and letting her clasp her hands around his neck. She’s mute in his hold, pressing her face into his neck as his hands slide down her thighs to hoist her legs around his hips.

He pads into the bedroom, laying her down across his bed and slotting himself between her legs. She brings her hands to the hem of his shirt and he gets the hint, sitting back and shucking it off over his head. She thinks that she’ll never get used to it, seeing him bare. There’s strange scars along his abdomen, she assumes from previous burns, but he’s still the prettiest thing she’s ever seen, all tan muscle and the sweetest little freckles. He motions for her to sit up, slipping her shirt off when she does before pressing them both back into the mattress in a harsh kiss. His tongue invades her mouth immediately, wrapping her senses in a hazy fog of him. He pulls away with a hot gasp.

“Need to be inside you, baby. Need your pussy so bad.” She just sighs out his name, watching him lean back to tug his cock out of his boxers before dropping the heavy tip against her folds. She whines when he draws the head of his cock through her cunt, her wetness smearing over the length of him.

“Tell me you want it, pretty. Tell me you want me.” He dips into her entrance and she gasps at the feeling.

“I want it, Steve, please– want you now.” He rolls his hips forward in one smooth thrust that sends her reeling, her hands clinging to his back as she cries out at being entirely full with him. He groans into her neck, quickly finding a steady rhythm as he fucks into her.

“Fuck– pussy’s made for me, baby– so perfect– just take it.” He brings one hand down to toy with her clit and it makes her hips buck up into his as she chokes on his name.

“Come for me, pretty– need it so bad– you better fucking come right now.” Her release sneaks up on her and then she’s falling hard, spasming around his dick and digging her nails into his back. He isn’t far behind her, fucking her through her high before he thrusts into her one final time and spills inside her with a shivery groan. They’re both panting, laying entangled in a hazy stillness as they come down. The ache is already coming back into focus, in her wrists and along the swell of her ass. She winces hard when he finally pulls out.

He had certainly gotten her good and fucked out, but she’s all too quickly coming out of the haze, all the dark things he said resting heavy on her chest until it feels like she can’t breathe. She goes to get up, but he’s quick to stop her, bringing his hands to her shoulders to press her back.

“Woah, easy, baby. Just lemme take care of you.” She shakes off his hands, dipping under his hold to stand and shuffle into the bathroom.

“‘I’m fine, Steve. Just– give me a minute.” She scrubs her hands down her face before turning in the mirror to take in the sight of her mottled ass. Sure enough, there’s a perfect, blotchy, red handprint across her one cheek, it even looks like he broke skin around the edges. There’s little bruises dotting her hips as well from where he had dug his fingers in, and she hisses as she runs her fingers over them. It’s then that she catches sight of her wrists in the mirror, rubbed red and raw from his belt. Normally, she enjoyed this kind of thing, evidence of a good session with Steve. But right now, the sight of her weary body coupled with his words still swirling in her head just makes her want to cry.

“Baby?” She’s startled out of her thoughts by Steve’s hoarse voice. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a furrowed look across his face. She sighs, not quite able to meet his gaze as she brushes past him back into the bedroom. He’s following behind her mutely as she grabs her shirt, quickly pulling it back on before walking out into the living room to get her panties and jeans. She’s sliding her pants up her legs when he finally speaks again.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I think I should go, Steve.”

“What? What do you mean? Baby, I– you need someone to take care of you, lemme look at those bruises.” He goes to reach for her but she flinches, stepping back away from him. He stops dead in his tracks.

“All that shit that you said, did you mean it?” He gives her a confused look, but she presses on.

“Steve, your words really hurt me. All that talk about me being your stupid slut. I-It felt different, it felt like you meant it.” He swallows hard.

“I was just angry, baby. I didn’t mean that shit. You just– you caught me off guard with those– those fucking pamphlets– and then the pills. I overreacted, I–”

“I can’t keep doing this, Steve!” His face crumples in an instant at her words, and when he speaks, his voice is so small it makes her breath catch.

“Can’t keep doing what?” She huffs, throwing her arms out in frustration.

“This! All I wanna do is help you and all you wanna do is push me away. It’s-it’s absurd. Why you won’t stop being so fucking stubborn is beyond me. But then, you just get so nasty about it, so mean.” She lets out a bitter laugh, sitting down on the edge of the couch and holding her head in her hands.

“And the worst part is, I let you be that way to me. I keep trying to help you and you keep lashing out at me a-and I can’t take it anymore, Steve. I just can’t.” Her words seem to have left him speechless, he just stands there, his eyes searching her face. She huffs, standing and heading towards the front door. It’s silent as she shrugs on her coat and puts on her shoes, sliding her bag up her arm. When she goes to open the door, however, his large hand comes into view, pressing the door shut. She turns around to tell him off, but chokes on her words when she sees his face. His eyes are swimming in tears, his expression completely crumpled.

“Please don’t go, baby. I’m sorry– I’m so sorry. You know I didn’t mean any of that stuff I just– I got freaked out, ok?” She pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying anymore.

“You say that every time this happens, Steve. I can’t keep believing what’s obviously a lie.” And then, Steve does something she couldn’t have expected in a million years. He gets down on his knees in front of her.

“I swear it’s not a lie this time, I swear. I-I’ll go to a shrink like you want me to– I won’t take anymore of those pills, just– please don’t fucking leave me, baby. You-you’re so good a-and so smart and– I love you, I really fucking love you.” It’s the first time he’s said it, and she wishes more than anything that it had been under any other circumstance. For a moment, she wonders to herself how she got here, in only three months, completely entangled with this broken man. She’s startled out of her thoughts when he wraps his arms around her hips, burying his face into her stomach.

“Please, baby. You know I need you.” She tentatively rests her hand in his hair, feeling the way he slackens against her at the contact. She draws her fingers through his hair firmly, tilting his head back to look at her. She lets out a long sigh.

“Listen to me, Steve Harrington. This is it. I swear to god if you’re lying, if anything like today happens again? I’m gonna leave and I’m never gonna come back.” His eyes go wide at her words and he’s quick to get on his feet, cupping her face in both his palms.

“I promise, it’s never gonna happen again. Gonna be better for you. Love you so much, baby.” She lets him press a damp kiss to her lips before pulling back.

“Will you let me take care of you now, pretty?” She nods, having to admit that her skin is smarting under the rough material of her jeans. He gives her a sweet smile before taking her hand and leading her back into his bedroom.

…

She swears she could get whiplash from how quickly Steve can change, going so sweet on her the second he has her laid back out on his bed. He gently peels her jeans down her legs, having her turn over onto her stomach while he rubs aloe lotion into her welts, murmuring apologies as he works. He thumbs at her wrists before kissing each, letting her turn onto her side while he slides behind her, wrapping her up in his arms. She’s exhausted from everything and falls asleep easily, moored by the steady rise and fall of his solid chest pressed into her back.

When she wakes up, it’s much later, the sun already setting on the city. Steve stirs behind her, grumbling into her neck.

“Can you stay tonight?” She hums her affirmation. She’s off RA duty until tomorrow and doesn’t have morning classes either, she can stay. Steve sighs. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks.

“How’s your head?” He groans.

“Hurts. I’ll take some advil.” Relief floods through her system that he really has seemed to drop the prescription debate.

“You can probably take a higher dose than normal, just for a little while before it starts getting better.” He sighs again, a seeming acceptance of her words. She wills herself to believe that it will get better.

“You hungry, baby?” She hums another yes to his question, turning in his arms to look at him.

“Should probably get something in you before you take anything too.”

They order takeout from her favorite spot, something Steve does every time he’s had to apologize to her. She’s had a lot of takeout in the last three months. She hopes this time really is different.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington au

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ashintheairlikesnow · 1 year

Note

okay Ash but older nanda and Jameson comf? If he'd lived? Pleeease? Just a snippet. A headcanon. A crömb. -theo-

@boxboysandotherwhump I totally forgot you had asked for me to do this AU so so long ago. Found this old ask abandoned in my inbox and you were PROPHETIC.

Continuing the AU, the last chapter (plus a link to the first) is right here.

CW: Intimate whump, some derogatory language, dubcon, some, uh, choking

For a long time, there is only the sound of each of them breathing. Jameson is ragged, rasping at the edge of a sob as he pulls himself back into control, his fingernails digging into the soft leather of the reclined passenger seat. His heart pounds, blood rushing past his ears.

Nanda's breath is nearly silent, far more even. His chest is warm against Jameson's bare back. Even through his expensive fucking shirt, though, Jameson can feel his heart pounding, too.

"What..." Nanda trails off. Jameson has never heard him sound so stunned. Nanda always plans for every angle.

But he didn't plan for this one.

"... what do you mean, someone else?" His mouth moves against Jameson's hair, sending a shiver down his spine. "Are you fucking the woman you live with, pet?"

My name is Jameson. I just told you that.

He bites the words back before they can make it out.

"N-no, not her. Fuck no. No. Absolutely... Absolutely not." He shifts, managing to get his shirt off the rest of the way, stop it from keeping his wrists tangled. It gives him an excuse for how his voice shakes - just from the effort. Only that. "Someone else. Different house. Someone... Someone else."

Nanda is quiet again. He's quiet for far too long. Then, he shifts back inside the tiny space. "Roll over. I want to see your eyes."

Jameson swallows, obeying the easy command with a little curl of warmth. He tips his head back against the headrest, looking up at Nanda, his beard and the line of his jaw beneath the silver and gray. The way the muscles in his arms seem written even more in stone. Nanda eases himself back down, and his weight feels reassuring and terribly final at once.

"Who is it?" His voice is mild. Spoonful of sugar tinted pink, sweetness and salt on Jameson's tongue. He could drown in the taste of Nanda's voice. Used to feel like he did drown, under voice and hands, tied up in ropes and brought to the good kind of screaming.

"... They're called A-Allyn. They, they ran away like I did. Well, not the-... Their owner died, too. They... They understood that I missed you..."

He reaches a hand up, hesitantly, trying to touch Nanda's face. The older man's big hand snaps up to close painfully tight around his wrist, forcing it back down.

"I wasn't dead," Nanda says mildly.

"I already told you, I didn't exactly goddamn know that-"

"No, you were dumb as rocks the one time I could have used the brains we both knew you had." Nanda's voice stays mild, but the insult stings regardless.

"I'm-... not-"

"Oh, you're not? You didn't know how to check a fucking pulse, but you're not dumb, huh? You ran off instead of waiting or calling for help but you still love me, right? Hell, you fuck someone else, but you're not a slut anymore. Isn't that what you're saying?"

Jameson's wrist feels like it creaks as Nanda tightens his grip further and further. The man's other hand drops down to unbutton and unzip his own pants in quick jerky motions. They're down low off his hips in seconds.

Jameson grits his teeth against the pain, refuses to be seduced by it. Or by the way Nanda punctuates the accusations by rolling his hips, the low warmth remaining stoked back into a flame.

God, he feels so hot.

They're both burning.

"If you were d-dead-... Ah! I would have lost you when they took you out of my head, I already s-said that-Jesus that's fucking good-"

His other wrist is grabbed now. He tries to pull it away, but they both know he isn't trying very hard. Nanda's mouth drops to graze against his. To catch him in a kiss, brutal and firm, until he's whimpering and rocking his hips like some mindless fucking idiot, like he used to do.

Nanda chuckles bitterly, pulls back and listens to Jameson's angry hiss at the sudden loss of connection. "If there's someone else, why did you get in my car when I came for you?"

He swallows, closing his eyes. Nanda's burn too much for him to take. Those hips roll against his again and he meets them with his own, arches his back, lets legs shift apart to welcome Nanda between his thighs. He could come from this, if it goes on long enough. "I don't-... I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No! Fuck you, no I don't know! You were dead and now you're here and I, I forgot who I am for a second, but I'm-... I'm not that anymore, and I want-... I want to-..." God, he feels it so much, his skin is all raw nerves and sensation. "... I want-"

"You want me."

Nanda had let go of his wrist at some point. He only realizes it when that heavy hot hand closes around his neck.

His breath stutters, gets lost trying to find his lungs. His head spins as the hand tightens, he feels his Adam's apple move against Nanda's palm. "Wait-"

" I spent all these years trying to find you, pet-"

"Jameson," He rasps, barely able to force the word out in a whisper. "Use... Use m'fucking name-"

"Fine. Jameson." God, it sounds so good in Nanda's voice, his own name tastes perfect in his tongue when Nanda is the one to say it. His eyes nearly flutter shut at the simple pleasure. "I have been searching for you-"

"Doing a shit j-job of it, could've used your help a couple y-years ago when I was in some asshole's dog cage-"

"Let. Me. Finish." The grip on his throat tightens even more. There is so little room for him to breathe, chest heaving. He never moves his hands to try and push or fight, though. He knows this tone, the look on Nanda's face. "However you feel about someone else... I looked for you. And I found you. I searched every goddamn corner of California trying to figure out where you fucked off to, and I find you all fucked up for someone else, another pet, huh?"

"I... I loved you... I still-" His voice catches, his throat clicks when he swallows. His eyes are wide, and he sees the anger in Nanda's and wonders why it used to thrill so much more to see it than it does now. "But I-... grieved-... Rebuilt, built n-new... life... I, I fucking deserve to l-live-"

Nanda's lip curls. But he doesn't say anything while Jameson fights for enough air to speak again. They're both still hard, still moving together, and the pleasure mixes with the pain in his throat and the dizzy lack of air, crossing all his wires and leaving him squirming in helpless unwanted arousal beneath Nanda's familiar perfect weight.

"I... deserve s-someone... who l-loves me... back-"

He expects mockery, black spots flashing bright like camera lights around Nanda's face as his vision starts to go, tunneling in on those eyes.

He sees, in the center of the closing tunnel, the whites of Nanda's eyes.

"Please-... If you e-ever... loved m-me-... Please, fuck, please s-say-... it..."

Nanda's thumb pushes against his windpipe as he kisses Jameson. Their mouths open to each other, and Jameson's arms move, finally, only to grip onto Nanda's shoulders. An anchor as he drowns on land, fighting for air.

Then the grip loosens.

Jameson's head pounds as he groans, his throat aches as he gulps air desperately. He'll be marked, bruised. He's been bruised there before. "N, Nanda-"

Nanda's head drops to Jameson's shoulder.

"... Nanda?"

A pause.

"You stupid thing. Why would I have looked so long for you if I didn't?"

#jameson au #nanda #whump #bbu #pet whump #box boy universe #box boy #intimate whumper #recaptured whumpee #dubcon tw #choking tw #dubcon #choking #captor bonding

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the-chosen-fanfiction · 1 year

Text

John the Apostle | Muse | Romantic

Dialogue prompt: "Your hair is so messy." - "Oh, please. It's because you can't stop touching it."

Requested: Yes

In order for you to be able to draw John properly, his hair just has to be perfect.

The charcoal slides against the parchment smoothly, carefully pressured by your precise hand to leave behind fine lines without the charred wood snapping underneath it. You trace your tongue over your bottom lip as you apply the final details, your gaze flicking up and down every few moments to see if you’re still on the right track, but your state of concentration is soon broken by a sudden voice behind you.

“Are you done yet?”

For the third time in ten minutes, Nathanael questions how far along you are, and does so in the most Nathanael-fashion possible. In spite of it being not the first time, it startles you nevertheless, and you close your eyes in annoyance as a small stripe of charcoal now sits obnoxiously inside the eye, where you had been working on the pupil.

“Thank you for that, Nath.” you sigh exasperatedly, voice laced with sarcasm, knowing that thumbing away the mistake will lead to nothing but an awful smudge, and you momentarily stare at the portrait you had been sketching. You had managed to capture the warm features of Jesus’ face, had given His beard just the right amount of volume and you were more than happy with the shape of His nose, but now, the kindness of His eyes falls flat because of an ugly thick stripe of charcoal.

“Sorry about that.” Nathanael quips, “Anyways, do you think you can draw me one of those as well?”

If glares could kill, Nathanael would have met his demise the moment you set eyes on him. He takes your narrowed eyes for his sign to leave, showing his palms in defence. “You don’t have to do it right now, no worries at all.” He backs off before you’re even able to voice the thought that the former architect wouldn’t be able to sit still for that long anyways.

Inhaling sharply, you turn your gaze up to Jesus, Who gives you a small smile.

“I’m sorry, Master,” you sigh, “It was going so well, I was so proud of how it was turning out. I will of course make You a new portrait, and I will try my very best to capture the same details as I did in this previous–”

Jesus holds out His hand. “Nonsense, (Y/n), I am sure it is beautiful. Let Me take a look.” You reluctantly hand Him the piece of parchment and He inspects it, drinking in every little bit of the drawing.

“I-I know it is likely not what I could have–”

“It is beautiful, (Y/n). Thank you very much, I love it!”

Your eyes widen. “Really?”

Jesus nods, then lets his gaze go to someone who is coming up behind you. “Really. See, there are more people who would like to have their portraits drawn.”

Your smile falls. “I thought I was pretty clear, Nathanael, that I am not in the mood to–”

Upon pivoting and being about to give Nathanael a piece of your mind, you come face to face with nobody less than John.

The very man you’ve been sketching in secret in your notebook for the past weeks.

The former fisherman who has started to become a muse of sorts ever since you had a romantic dream about him two months ago.

The younger son of Zebedee whom you’ve been sweet on for a while now.

The one who sends butterflies through your entire system.

“John, hi!” you somehow manage to greet him, “Uh, shalom, how are you?”

John the Beloved smiles sweetly. “I am doing well, (Y/n), thank you. How about you?”

You nod and gulp in an attempt to get rid of the dryness of your throat, but to no avail. “I’m good!” you squeal, a bit too high-pitched for your liking, “I just made a sketch of Jesus.”

With his eyebrows raised in curiosity, John looks at the piece of parchment in Jesus’ hands. The Messiah hands it to him so that he can inspect it closer, and your face flushes whilst he scrutinises it.

“This is so good, (Y/n), you are very talented!”

Flustered, you lower your gaze. “Thanks, I’m trying my very best to get better at it.”

John hums and hands back the parchment to Jesus, Who stands and gives you another word of thanks before walking off, heading for his tent where He finds His leather backpack to safely tuck away the drawing.

“Would you…” John rubs his neck, “Would you be open to drawing me as well? I would like to give my eema some sort of gift to remember me by.”

The thoughtful comment warms your heart.

“Sure,” you breathe, “Right now?”

His hair bounces as he nods, and you look at it. Chewing your lip, you can already see a few loose strands that need to be tucked into place.

“Would you like me to sit anywhere in particular?”

You gesture towards a fallen log on the edge of camp. “How about there?” you propose, and John hums in agreement.

“Sounds like a great plan. I’ll bring you a chair, hold on.”

The fisherman carries a small stool over to the log, so that both of you can get comfortable. With the change in light, you recognise that you take another angle than the one you had drawn Jesus in, and you shift a little closer to the younger son of Zebedee.

“Want me to sit here?”

You hum. “Please.” He puts the stool down for you to position properly. You drag it over to the right position and reach for your bag.

John takes a seat on the log so that you aren’t looking right into the sun and pulls a rather prideful face, puffing out his chest, straightening his back. “How about this pose?” he suggests, causing you to snort a laugh.

“You aren’t going to keep that up for long, trust me.”

“Why not?” John asks whilst you take an unwritten sheet of parchment from your bag and you rummage through your tools to find a proper bit of charcoal to begin with.

You nod towards Nathanael, who is busy chatting with Thaddeus a little away. “I had him as my model not too long ago, and he could only sit like that for five minutes before his muscles got tired.” John flexes his arms and gives you a determined look. “Well, I am used to heavy labour, so I can take it!” The sight makes you flush and you clear your throat, looking away. John relaxes his body and smiles, thinking of the pink tinge on your cheeks as adorable.

“Just… Take on a pose that you can maintain for about forty to fifty minutes.”

His eyes widen. “Forty to fifty– Right, okay. Art takes time.”

You smile and nod, waiting for the fisherman to poise himself in such a way that does not strain him yet is interesting enough to make a drawing of. He leans a hand on the log he is sitting on, puts his legs a little further apart and turns his gaze to you. The way his dreamy eyes seem to drill into you as he stares nearly makes you snap your piece of charcoal between your fingers.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you abashedly query.

John shrugs. “Well, then it will seem like I’m looking right at the viewer.”

In an attempt to gather yourself, you inhale through your nose and calmly exhale right after, shifting in your seated position.

You hold out your thumb in an attempt to somewhat figure out the proportions, and make a rough outline of the shape of his head. Every time you cast your eyes back up at him, your heart skips a beat, the intensity of his gaze making you flustered.

“I’ll… I’ll need to fix your hair a little.” you say.

John smiles. “By all means.”

He sits still as you card your fingers through the thick, dark brown locks. The moment you make contact with it, your breath hitches, and you are not brave enough to let your focus go down to John, who is gently gazing at you.

“That’s better.” you state when it’s shaped into a better model, sitting back. “Okay, let’s see…”

You sketch the first outlines of his features as well as the shape of the mop of curls that sits untamed on his head. Squinting, you roughly sketch where his beard goes and try to get the broadness of his neck and shoulders right, and John flicks his tongue over his lips, giving you an amused look.

“You’re cute when you’re concentrated.”

“Huh?” Having missed his words, you look up at him a bit confused. “What was that?”

John gives you a tight-lipped smile, suddenly self-conscious, and shakes his head. “Nothing.” The motion causes his hair to spring back where it had been before.

Clicking your tongue, you reach over to it again and softly play with it in the hopes of tucking it into just the right place. John enjoys the feeling of your fingers against his scalp, letting out a small hum. “Everything okay?”

You nod and lean away again so that you can resume your work, trying to calm your racing heart down, which is affected by his proximity. Although the fisherman does not smell clean – you’re certain that you don’t smell amazing either during this long time on the road – you bask in his scent regardless. It is comforting, and you suddenly wonder how things would be between you if he knew what you felt for him.

With a slightly unsteady hand, you draw him, and slide the charcoal against the parchment in just the right places. Studying people in this way never fails to make you amazed at how incredibly complex God’s creation is, each face different from the other. Staring into the eyes of your crush is an added bonus to this particular sketch.

“How is it coming along?”

His kind demeanour puts you at ease. Your gaze meets John’s and you smile. “Slowly but surely. Be patient, now. Here, hold on.” Once again, you find yourself reaching forward to get some of his curls to sit in a prettier way, and he chuckles.

“I shouldn’t rush art, sorry.”

With a pleasant hum, you continue your drawing.

In relative silence, you get down to the largest features quite easily, and you’re soon already working on the smaller details, swapping between different pieces of charcoal that you carry in your bag. At some point, you carve a chunk of charred wood into a tiny, fragile point with your pocket knife in order to capture each and every curl to your best ability.

John sits there, awaiting your results yet not pushing you to hurry, like Nathanael had done. Every few moments, you find yourself looking up into his eyes and deem it almost intimate. Your tummy swirls with butterflies more and more every passing second, and you wish that you would never finish this drawing, just to keep him in front of you for longer.

Watching you in this way makes John almost abashed, your scrutiny intense yet adoring in a way that you so delicately add details here and there, showing that you’re truly studying him. Your concentrated state is nothing short of adorable. Something in his gut drops, resembling disappointment, that you hadn’t heard him tell you that he thinks you look cute a while ago. Perhaps he should repeat himself – or maybe that he shouldn’t, for he doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself–

A gust of wind pulls both you and John out of your focused state, and you can barely hold onto the piece of parchment that threatens to escape. You puff some air from your lungs out of relief and smile at the younger son of Zebedee, who grins back at you with an equal beam.

“That was a close call.”

Humming in acknowledgement, you gaze at him again, shaking your head in disbelief at the sight of his curls all across his forehead, casting way different shadows over his face than they had done before.

“Ugh, John, your hair is so messy!” you quip, swiping a finger over his forehead from left to right in the hopes to somewhat push it back into place.

John rolls his eyes with a smirk. “Oh, please. It’s because you can’t stop touching it!”

“The wind keeps messing it up, and I just need to draw it perfectly. I cannot help that your hair is just so… Inviting! Captivating!”

“Says who?”

“Says me! And how am I supposed to properly get it on here if it keeps bouncing out of place?”

John chews on the inside of his cheek to fight his spreading smile as the warmth of your index finger causes a thousand butterflies to erupt into his stomach.

“There.” You say once you’re satisfied with how his curls are sitting. Turning back to your sketch, John feels a pang of disappointment that you’ve stopped touching him.

“(Y/n), I’ve been meaning to tell you something.” His heart pounds against his chest as he says the words.

With a questioning gaze, you look up from your drawing. “Is it important, can it wait for a few moments? I’m nearly done with this.”

His gut spins and he nods a bit, and he watches your hand as it slides the charcoal over the paper, skilled, talented.

The next time it moves up to touch his hair, John decides right then and there, he will most certainly– He doesn’t have a long time to overthink his plans when you put down your charcoal again in order to once again adjust his dark locks, tucking and pushing the strands in the places you deem right so that you can have a great–

John catches your wrist in his hand and brings it down from his forehead. Whilst maintaining eye-contact, he presses a light kiss onto the back of your fingers, smiling a bit shyly with flushed cheeks.

Shocked, you freeze in your spot. Upon seeing your reaction, John releases your hand and shakes his head apologetically. “Oh, no, I’m–I’m so sorry, (Y/n), I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that, and–”

Finding your voice, you whisper his name. “John,” you mutter, cupping his face with that same hand. He leans into it without realising it and smiles. “It’s okay. Does it… Does this mean that you like me?”

He lightly laughs and nods, biting his bottom lip in thought. “Very much,” he admits, but his smile falls. “I… I didn’t mean to pressure you by kissing your hand there. It was not proper of me, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you repeat, softer this time, and you flick your gaze down to your sketch momentarily. “The drawing is nearly done. Would you like me to finish it now?”

With eyes that glitter in amusement, John puffs out his cheeks and lets air escape slowly before shaking his head, taking your other hand in his as well.

“Perhaps we should discuss other things first. You can always tame my hair another time. Would you like to take a walk whilst we talk over things?”

You smile and nod, allowing him to help you up by taking his hand.

Carefully folding the unfinished sketch, you put it neatly into your bag to complete later.

You’re certain it will not be the only drawing you will ever make of him.

#the chosen #reader insert #the chosen x reader #x reader #chosen x reader #angel studios #john the apostle x you #john the apostle #john the apostle x reader

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

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billy hargrove - enemies to lovers with prompt 17?? <3333

- your writing is amazing and your interactions with your followers are so sweet and dedicated!

hope u know how much comfort u bring to people including me!

I loveeee my billy requests.

Thank you so so so much for the love and I'm so happy to be able to give you a sense of comfort, it's genuinely all I want ♥️

"I'm coming! Jesus!" I yell, my hand whipping the door open with force as I breathlessly stare at the man in front of me. Billy doesn't give me a second to think before he's pushing his way past me and into my house, my jaw dropping as I scoff, slamming the door shut. "Billy, what the fuck?" I shout, marching down the hallway, hot on his trail as he slips into my bedroom, my brows angrily furrowed as I step into my room to see him sitting on the edge of my bed. "Why the hell are you here?" I whisper scream, remembering the presence of my parents upstairs as I lean over to turn down the music blaring from my radio.

But when I look back at him, I finally see it.

There are scratches and bruises littering his cheekbones and collarbones, his wife beater covered in blood as he reaches up to run a frustrated hand through his hair.

"What-" I cut myself off, hating the way my heart is aching in my chest at the sight of him beat up so bad. There was no reason to feel bad for him, not after seeing what he did to Steve not that long ago, almost killing him. But as I bite at my lip anxiously, noticing more bruises and gashes along his arms, I shake my head, ignoring the voice in the back of my head. "Billy, was this your dad?" I ask, anxiously shifting my weight back and forth as he sighs, shoulders tight and squared as he looks up at me.

"You tell anyone I was here, your ass is grass." He threatens but I snort, patting his shoulder as he hisses in pain, watching me carefully as I sit down beside him.

"Get over yourself, you know I have no friends." A smile spreads across his lips as I sigh, inspecting the wounds covering his exposed, tan skin. "Why here, Billy? You hate me." I laugh but he shakes his head with a shrug.

"Hate's a strong word." His eyes are the softest they've ever been as he looks back at me, my stomach fluttering with butterflies. "Max mentioned something about you being first aid certified or some shit."

"So I'm your nurse?" I giggle quietly, my eyes flickering across his tired expression and he sends me a wink.

"In a sexy way, sure." My eyes roll as I stand, making my way over to my desk to pull out my small first aid kit. I pop it open, pulling out alcohol pads and some gauze, biting anxiously at my lip. What if he has broken bones or sprains? What if he needs stitches? "Jesus, loosen up a bit." Billy laughs as I spin on my heel, scoffing as I step in between his legs, nudging his chin up as he gazes up at me, almost looking well-behaved for a split second.

"Sorry, just wasn't expecting you in my room tonight." I snort, tearing the wrapper of one of the alcohol pads.

"Not like this you mean, no I'm sure you've thought about it in other ways, huh?" Giving him a wicked grin, he hisses as I dab at his cut on his forehead with the alcohol pad, giggling at the sting it gives.

"Don't be an ass. You're mean to me 24/7 so you're lucky that I'm tending to you like you're a goddamn damsel in distress." He rolls his eyes as I rest my hand on his jaw, biting at the inside of my cheek and I work at dabbing the blood away from his pretty face. His hands raise to rest on my waist as I jump, not expecting him to be so forward.

"Why're you so jumpy, Y/L/N?" He whispers, the softness of his voice taking me off guard as I sigh, bracing my hands on his shoulders as I glare at him.

"Shut up." A smirk appears on his lips and he laughs darkly.

"Make me." My lips pull into a soft smile at his words, heart skipping a beat as his eyes flicker away from mine, his cheeks blushing gently as he shows hints of embarrassment at his own flirty words.

A part of me wants to make fun of him and tease him but I won't make fun of his boyishness now. I'll just use it in the future when he makes fun of me or throws a sexual joke my way. The other part of me wants to kiss him senselessly, coddle him and take care of him in ways no one has done before. I want nothing more but to see the softer side to him, loving when he drops his cocky attitude like he's done tonight.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets@haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee

#billy #billy x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #stranger things #stranger things fic

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bradshawswife · 2 years

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Friend Bob! But Friend Bob is really wicked Bob when he gets you alone. Teases. Taunts, finds his voice. Knows exactly what he wants because his voice won’t be lost in the group.

Just a thought! x

AHHH YES!!! thanks for the suggestion bestieee <3

Alone with Bob.

✤ w/c: 1761

✤ description: Bob is a reserved guy. He's fairly shy in public, but once he's alone with you? Oh prepare for the best night of your life. Readers call sign is Bee 🐝

✤ pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader

✤ warnings: SMUT. minors DNI pls. Protected sex, PIV, fingering, oral f!receiving. Switch!Bob. Bob being sexy as usual. Friends to lovers. It's always the quiet ones my dudes.

Bob was a relatively quiet guy. He rarely ever spoke when you and the team were at The Hard Deck. You always assumed he was introverted or had a lot of anxiety around big crowds. Some of that was true, but Bob was just a reserved guy. You two had been friends for a few months, him being your new WSO after being stationed here in San Diego. He was a really good WSO, always on top of things and assertive in his voice when up in the air, but on solid ground? Shyest guy you've ever been around.

One night, after a long day of work, you and the team had decided to go to The Hard Deck as you usually did. You walked in to see Hangman, and Coyote playing darts. You couldn't see anyone else, so you assumed you were early. Heading over to the pool table, you're spooked when you notice Bob by your side.

"Jesus Bob, give a girl some warning." you squeal, looking up to the tall brunette. He gives you a shy smile and goes to sit down with his drink.

The rest of the crew strut in at their respective times, joining you and Bob by the pool table.

Throughout the night, Bob stayed observing the crowd. Watching you mindlessly play flirt with Rooster and Hangman, he found himself to get a bit annoyed.

He had been in love with you ever since he laid his eyes on you a few months ago, in this very bar. You guys had been called here on a special detachment, and ever since he seen you, he knew he'd be done for. Becoming your WSO was just another blessing to him, the first one being knowing you.

After a few hours of pool, darts, and a few drinks later, everyone was calling it a night. As you head outside, you realize your front left tire is flat. Just lovely.

Bob comes out after you, observing the scene. He always made sure you got in your car safely. He always looked out for you, even if you didn't notice.

"Oh no, what happened?" he asked you softly, slightly scaring you because he once again appears out of no where. Man's is a stealth pilot.

"Ah again, Bob! You can't keep scaring me," you chuckle, "My tire appears to be flat. Do you think you could take me home?" you ask, fidgeting for your phone to remind yourself to call the tow tomorrow morning.

"Sure thing, Bee" he says, smiling as he directs you to his car. He opens the passenger door, gaining a remark out of you.

"Ever the gentleman." you say, smiling ear to ear. It was rare to see such chivalry now a days, but you're not surprised. Bob was a fairly sweet man. From what little he's told you, its safe to say he was raised right.

He makes his way to the drivers side, sliding into the seat and turning the car on. He puts his arm behind your seat as he backs up, which sends heat straight to your core (Ok, this is easily one of the hottest thing any guy can do, tell me I'm wrong?) Sure, you were a little buzzed, having had 2 drinks.

Your reaction from that simple movement didn't go unnoticed by Bob. He seen you squeeze your legs shut promptly, he knew what he was doing. You know what they say friends, never judge a book by its cover.

"Does that turn you, Bee?" he mutters. You quickly look at him like he has three heads.

"What did you say?" you ask, unsure of how to react to this sudden change in persona from Bob.

"I said," he starts, promptly putting his big hand on your thigh, "does that turn you on? What i just did with my arm? I noticed the reaction, baby." he smirks, still focusing on the road. He can see from the corner of his eyes that your face is as red as a tomato and your eyes are as wide as saucers.

"I'm just... shocked at your directness right now" you say shakingly, as he moves his hand further up your leg, lightly moving under your sundress.

"I love those little sundresses you wear. I notice them all the time," his hand gets closer to your clothed core, "the way it rides up slightly when you bend down," his fingers teasingly moving up and down over your already damp area. Your breath hitches as he continues to tease you.

"I uh, mhmm," you let out a moan, which is easily the prettiest noise Bob has ever heard. He's imagined how would sound, underneath him, on top of him, whichever position that would occur. It's better than anything he's imagined. He's already painfully hard, this didn't help that.

You find yourself parked in your driveway now, with Bobs fingers teasing your entrance, rubbing up and down. "Finish your sentence baby," he says, as he inserts a finger into you.

"Uhm, what brought this, fuck mhmm, on" you say, moaning halfway through because his fingers are moving painfully slow. Looking up into his eyes, his pretty blue eyes are no longer soft and blue. They are dark and filled with lust as his fingers are pumping in and out of you.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night, just couldn’t find the courage till we were alone,” he smiles, which sends another wave of heat to your core. He seems so different now, alone with you. Its like he switched personas the minute he was alone. Totally different guy.

He made you finish within the next 2 minutes, which was embarrassingly fast. He’s just so hot the way he looks at you.

Within the next 5 minutes you’re dragging him inside and he’s pushing you against the wall. You feel the huge bulge in his pants surprisingly getting harder and harder. You didn’t think it was possible to get even more hard at this rate, but with all the surprises Bob is pulling on you tonight, nothing is off the table.

Once you both get upstairs between your kisses, he makes haste of removing your clothes, and his. After that’s out of the way, he directs you towards your bed and shoves you down on it, hiking your legs up.

“Can I eat you out?” he mumbles, lowering himself to the ground while you’re positioned at the edge of the bed.

“Oh fuck yes please” you moan out as he gets dangerously close to your soaked area.

“Please who?” he smirks. Bob has a huge rank kink, which you’re about to find out.

“Please, Lieutenant” you whisper, barely coherent as he traces circles on your inner thigh. He quickly hikes your legs across his shoulders to get better access.

“Good girl, so good at listening,” he mumbles into your thigh as he rubs circles around your clit. He loves the pretty little sounds you make. Before you know it, he’s latched his mouth onto you and begins eating you out like his life depends on it. Licking up and down your folds, sucking on your clit, the works.

Right as you were about to have your second orgasm, he quickly removes his mouth from your area, eliciting moans and whimpers from the loss of contact.

“Sorry bunny,” you giggle at the nickname, “as much as I love treating you, it’s worth it” he states, licking his lips clean of the excess juices from you. He immediately kisses you, so you can taste yourself on his tongue.

He pulls out a condom from his pocket. You’re shocked he came with one, thinking you would have had to use your stash in your bedside table.

“I’ve been waiting for this day to happen for months,” he hisses as he rolls the latex on his painfully hard erection. He lines himself up with your entrance, lowering himself onto you so he can pepper kisses across your collarbone. He teases you with the tip for a bit, making sure you’ll be ok with his size. Once he’s pushing himself into you, he quickly attaches his mouth onto yours, so you can moan into his mouth.

Once he’s bottomed out, and you’re a moaning mess. He does small, soft thrusts to get you used to the fullness. The minute you’re adjusted, he speeds up. Thankfully, your house isn’t attached to another, or else your neighbours would look at you completely different the next morning. Bob loved how loud you were.

He wasn’t so quiet himself, but not as loud as you. You loved his grunts and praises. Within minutes you feel another orgasm, twice as strong ball up in your stomach. Since you were denied your last one, this one is just insane. You can tell he was getting close too, the more you clench around him. Soon enough you’re both finishing at the same time.

He stays laying on top of you, not wanting to break away from your warm body, even though you’re both sweating messes. After a few more minutes of controlling your guys breathing, he removes himself from you and discards the condom. He treks to the bathroom to find a washcloth to clean you up, because he’s incredibly good at aftercare (of course he is, he’s bob.)

After you’re both cleaned up, you get up to grab pajamas, hoping you have something comfortable for him to change into. You find a pair of sweatpants that belonged to your ex, and a baggy T-shirt for Bob.

You turn around and see Bob looking around your room, smiling at pictures you had spewed around the room. You hand him the clothes and he gets dressed, continuing to look around to get a sense of your personality, more than he’s already seen.

“I love these pictures” he says, wrapping his arms around your waist. “This room is very, you” he laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Well, it better be, because this is my hobbit hole, i never leave besides work and the bar” you laugh into his chest.

You both lay back down on your bed, snuggling into his chest. After browsing through your streaming services you settled on some Disney movies. You were a child at heart, and loved watching these movies. Luckily for you, Bob grew up with younger sisters so he also quite enjoys these.

While dozing off, you felt so safe in his arms. Probably the most peaceful you’ve ever felt. You hoped this wasn’t the last time this would happen.

And, it wasn’t.

✤ a/n: howdy folks, I wasn’t sure how to end this because i feel like i’m dragging it on. I could do a part two, or just leave it at this. Hope y’all enjoyed!

✤ taglist!

@thesewordsareallihavetogive

@vintageobx

if you want to join my taglist, send me an ask or comment on this post!

#writing with tropic #bob my beloved #tgm #robert 'bob' floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bobby boy #bob floyd x reader #top gun fic #robert floyd fic #izzy writes

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