#(apologetic finger guns)

[marshmellowtea]

coca cola give me the strength i need to survive the rest of the day without passing out prematurely

#i’m so tired and idk why hbxhvxgvxg #which is why i’ve been particularly salty today sorry about that #finger guns apologetically #marshy speaks

[gutsby]

Benign

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying a former Soviet sleeper agent was your first mistake. Letting curiosity get the better of you and saying his trigger words before sex was your second.

Warnings: 18+. DUBCON - Bucky is partly brainwashed; R is reluctant at first. Reliving past trauma (i.e., grief, prior HYDRA captivity). Rough, unprotected p-in-v.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Marrying into the mob meant one of two things: turning a blind eye to your husband’s crimes or taking them up as your own. Most of the women who had gone before you chose the former, leading lives of willful ignorance while their spouses cut deals, shed blood, stole guns, and submitted only to the laws of secrecy and discretion.

You, unlike those wives, hadn’t had the luxury of choice.

Your life, unlike theirs, had been sold to a man you didn’t know, by a father you couldn’t stand, and now your dad was dead, and this man—your husband—was to blame.

The least Bucky could do was fuck you hard to say sorry.

But no, ever since the Winter Soldier had reared its ugly head that dreadful night in Madripoor two weeks prior, your husband hadn’t laid one finger on your body that was not soft, sweet, and sickeningly apologetic to you. He seemed almost scared to initiate sex, and when he did, couldn’t help but act like a touch might break you.

After all, one almost had. Those hands he’d hear you beg and plead to put on you now were the very same ones he’d used to kill dozens, if not hundreds, including blood of your own blood. To the world, Bucky’s reputation commanded fear. To his wife, now, he felt duly obliged to prove he was more—that you were safe with him, not from him. He’d carted you off to every GP, hematologist, nutritionist, and grief specialist lauded among Brooklyn’s elite to make that happen. Fast. Frankly, these days, the thought of fucking was the furthest thing from his mind.

Unbeknownst to Bucky, somewhere along the spectrum of grief, you’d already come to settle comfortably at the ‘Need-to-be-fucked-until-I-can-no-longer-think-or-feel’ phase, and every bone in your body was crying out for respite in the form of ruthless, mind-numbing sex. It didn’t make sense. You hardly knew what to do with it. You should have lashed out, shut down, cried rivers and lakes of tears for that integral part of family that had been lost, but for whatever reason, you had to go numb.

You wanted to do something really, really fucking dumb.

Remorseful as he was, Bucky and his explanations for who or what the Winter Soldier was had been sparse. He’d told you that he had once been held in captivity by HYDRA, had his brain re-wired some way to make him a merciless Soviet sleeper agent, and that the night in Madripoor was the first in ages he had been ‘activated.’ How did activation happen? Of course, he wouldn’t tell.

But Steve would.

Steve had told you everything you wanted to know about your soldat, describing in painstaking detail how he worked, trained, operated, and could be called to action. You were almost certain Rogers had said it all as a way to assure you that it wasn’t Bucky who’d killed your father—it was someone inside him. You were more than positive Steve had never intended for you to use his intel like this.

You hadn’t believed him. Couldn’t believe him. How the fuck could someone sever all ties to their conscious mind and just transform anew into a killer? You got to be hell-bent on knowing for certain whether it’d been Bucky or him, it, whatever the hell the Winter Solider was, and on knowing it now. If your husband was faking it all and simply using this persona to justify the killing, that would be it. Trust gone, marriage over. If he wasn’t, well…you hadn’t gotten that far into your own line of thinking.

“Tell me what you want, doll,” Bucky said, pulling you back to the present.

He shifted gently against you, cotton trousers raising the friction a little as he slotted between your legs. He was still dressed head-to-toe from his meeting that morning.

“I want you to fuck me. Make me cum. Please.”

You were bare, save for one small scrap of linen and lace that somehow passed as a nightie. Your gaze was soft.

Bucky didn’t want to say no, but he also felt too guilty to say yes. The way you were watching him now, eyes so helpless and pleading, body writhing for contact, he knew you didn’t want his touch so much as needed it. Desperately. Couldn’t bear to be burdened with grief so you brushed it aside, to the furthest recesses of your mind until all that was left was desire. Starvation, really.

He could satiate you for now, but that hunger might not ever leave. The corners of his lips twitched into a frown.

“Gentle?” he mumbled.

“Rough,” you countered.

“Baby—”

“I really don’t need another fucking lecture on death, Bucky. I know I’m not myself right now, but I can still make these decisions, okay? Don’t talk to me like I can’t.”

Anger flashed in your eyes for a second, then indignation, then nothing. Without much energy left, you pushed him away. Flopped back on the bed and, seeming to sink into yourself, heaved a low, feeble sigh.

“I know. Hey,” Bucky leaned over to press a touch to your tummy, and it made you want to hurl, “I’m sorry.”

You turned onto your side.

“You still don’t remember what happened?”

The question came suddenly, almost from somewhere outside your body, it seemed. For the hundredth time.

“No,” Bucky answered, for what felt like the thousandth.

“This Winter Soldier—”

“He isn’t me.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Couldn’t know. Wasn’t…programmed for it.”

Bucky was watching you now, eyes as contrite as they’d ever been while you rehashed this subject to the brink of tears. He never could stay composed when he saw you cry.

“Baby…” he started, arms reaching out for you.

Eyes still filling with tears, you shook your head and swatted him off. You sat up, and your brows pinched together in a look he couldn’t read. Contemplating.

At last, you made up your mind.

You would try something new—and really, really stupid:

“Zhelaniye.”

“What?”

Bucky’s own expression contorted with uncertainty.

“—semnadtsat, rzhaviy, rasvet—”

He heard that. He immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Wait—”

You were curious. You had no idea what you were doing.

“Baby, baby, stop—”

“—pech, devyat—”

You were speaking so fast, surely it wouldn’t work like that. Either way, he had to stop you. He seized your arms, giving a sharp, deliberate shake, pupils blown to the size of saucers in his eyes. There wasn’t much time.

“Don’t—”

“—adin—”

No time at all.

“—dothisdon’tfuckingdothishoneyplease.”

Losing himself already. Feeling it stir inside his mind.

“—dobroserdechniy—”

‘Kind-hearted.’ ‘Benign’. You truly had no clue what these words were liable to do, much less what they meant.

Having enunciated this last part, you swallowed. Took the tip of your tongue and rolled it left-to-right across the backs of your teeth, waiting for your speech to take effect like some magical performance before your eyes.

It hadn’t, it seemed. You blinked. He blinked. You sat in a protracted silence for what seemed like seventeen years, and presently, your stomach began to churn. Nothing happened—you’d been right about this fuckery all along.

Then you remembered one last word of the sequence.

Faintly, you said:

“Soldat.”

The man above you straightened. Sitting. Stiff. Still perched by your legs at a comfortable distance but regarding you now with a pointed stare. Expectancy made manifest in a simple, sharp glare from his eyes to yours.

“...Bucky?”

The look on his face grew even harder. For a time, he persisted in that strange and silent grimace, and just when you started to suspect he was faking this whole demeanor of deadened stoicism, you heard a voice. Clawing out of his throat but sounding nothing like him:

“Who the hell is Bucky?”

The words drove a fear to the greatest depths of your bones, and you hardly knew why. You stared back at the handsome, barren man still watching you with severity, and you couldn’t seem to find your husband anywhere.

“James?” You weren’t sure why you tried his name again. You just didn’t know what else to say.

The scowl seeped into his mouth, and he frowned.

“James,” he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.

You found yourself shuffling back on the bed just then—to what, you didn’t know. You just felt a gnawing need to put some space between you and this person, this glowering face, however you could. When he grabbed your ankle, you let out a startled sound, and when he followed you up on the bed, you did more than just whimper; you lifted your leg to knee him directly in the stomach. He caught it.

Then he stared again, expression bloodless and wan.

“You’re scaring me, Bucky.” Your voice trembled as you tried to free your leg from his fist—grip unusually strong.

The man paused another moment, if only to soak in your words and let his gaze trail over your face. Your exertions did not register. And, for the very first time, you felt as though you were something more like a plaything in your husband’s eyes—not a full-fledged human being but a system to be gamed. The feeling was so unsettling that you had to turn away.

Or try to, anyway.

Craning your neck just far enough to spy your phone on the nightstand, your first thought was Steve; he would know what to do. But before you could even think to twist and lift your body in that direction, you felt a hand yank you to the bed, flat on your back. You looked up at Bucky and found yourself caged between two arms. He lowered himself to his elbows, shifted his weight to one side, and seemed not to notice your movements at all when you tried to slide away. The man just splayed his hand across your stomach and pressed it firmly. Stay.

You weren’t one to shy away from a challenge—or keep hope alive against the odds. You put your hand over his.

“James—”

“Zhena.”

The abruptness of Bucky’s word stole the rest of yours. You cocked a brow and followed his gaze to your hand.

To the gaps between your fingers, then the touch that fanned across them to settle on one digit in particular.

Bucky thumbed at the diamond and smiled. He smiled.

“Zhena,” he repeated.

You blinked.

“I— you...gave me that, Bucky. You did.”

He hummed in acknowledgment.

Bucky stared at the ring for what could’ve been five seconds or several years, and then he did something unexpected. He shifted his touch to the bodice of your dress—again, if you could even call it that—and he began to tug at the satin bow situated between your breasts.

Of course, this nightie being designed for honeymoons and supremely easy access, it didn’t take much effort at all for the folds of your dress to come apart. Your breasts spilled out of the fabric without so much as a hint of protest, your torso was quick to become fully exposed, and suddenly, shortly, your hands were fumbling at your chest in an effort to regain some smidgen of modesty. Your husband just shook his head, following your hands.

“Moya zhena,” he said, a touch more emphasis and fervor to the first of the two words.

Now it was you who was shaking your head. Trying to pry his touch away as you slid up the bed. When he followed, you saw the icy expression had been supplanted by intrigue and, though you still felt ill at ease, you couldn’t deny you were curious to know what he was thinking. Who was thinking it? Soft, plush lips swiftly replaced his hands, and before you even knew what he was doing, Bucky, or someone, was latching onto your left breast. Using teeth to graze the hardened nub and send a ripple of thick, guilty pleasure coursing through you.

You whimpered. Bucky groaned.

Your fingers slotted through his hair with every intention of pushing him away, but when you tried, he just flicked his tongue and made another delicious sound against you.

You pushed with even more force, and he groaned again.

Not Bucky, not Bucky, not him, you have to—

“Stop!” you cried.

A set of soft, warm baby blues darted up to meet you.

Some flicker of recognition seemed to cross them, too.

“Honey?”

You almost lurched toward the sound. It was Bucky.

Suddenly, your hands were making fists in the collar of his crisp white button-up, and you were trying to yank him up. You murmured his name in disbelief, relief, and gathered him up in your arms to pull him in for a kiss.

The lips that met you were soft for a moment—just one.

Then the teeth reappeared. Harsh, jarring, biting. You jerked back at the sensation, and when you found his face again, it seemed your husband was lost to you all over. The eyes were attentive still—nowhere near as cold and aloof as they had been before—but they did not radiate the same warmth and admiration that Bucky’s always did. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He was gone, just like that, and there was nothing you could do to stop it from happening.

A broad palm cupped your cheek to bring you in for another kiss, and you weren’t sure if you should indulge. It didn’t seem you had much choice anyway, because the lips that were seeking yours were hungry. Starved. Searing into your mouth with a force you couldn’t refuse.

But something inside you wanted to find Bucky again.

Somewhere inside this stranger was lying dormant a trace of your husband; you’d seen it yourself, if only for a second. It made you curious. Where had he gone? What did he do when forced to retreat into this strange, preprogrammed being, and how could you get him back?

“Bucky,” you mumbled, more of a plea than a moan.

You were kissed harder than you had been in a long time. You didn’t have to think, or do, or breathe one puff of air that this man didn’t account for. His tongue wedged a gaping space in your wet, welcoming mouth for him to fill, and somehow, you didn’t feel the urge to protest. A familiarity in the way he kissed almost put you at ease, and when his body lifted slightly, yours lifted with it.

Before long, Bucky was sitting. Kneeling between your legs with an eye to your soft, shaking torso. You’d barely even come to notice just how hard you were breathing until you felt a palm on your stomach again. There was an oddly calming insinuation in that one simple touch.

And again, he smiled. Brighter than before.

“Nashe?” He sounded eager as he said it.

You peered up at him and raised an eyebrow in question. Perhaps you should’ve felt more exposed; after all, you were sitting half-naked with your husband’s assassin alter ego stroking your stomach and beaming over you, eyeing you expectantly, and you didn’t know what to say. Apart from the short set of words Steve had taught you, you were totally clueless to Russian, and you weren’t quite sure you were in a place to ask Bucky to translate.

When it seemed words might never come, the gleaming teeth above you were shrouded in a tighter, close-lipped smile, and Bucky nodded. Appearing to understand. Instead of forcing a response from you, he just let his hand migrate down your belly, fingers tracing the skin, then settle comfortably—momentarily—at the crest of your pubic bone. Then he pressed the heel of his palm into the place residing right below it, and without really meaning to, you moaned. A quiet maelstrom of pleasure circled low in your abdomen, threatening to draw noises from your throat you weren’t planning to make with every gentle gyration of Bucky’s lower hand.

You had to purse your lips to contain the sounds.

Again, he nodded.

“It’s okay,” he said, so quiet he almost couldn’t be heard.

He let the friction continue for a while like that: just palming you, watching you react to the simplest of motions against your swollen, aching clit and try not to writhe. At length, you squirmed a little bit. Bucky seemed to want to wait for something to happen, and when you bucked your hips, a look in his eye said that was enough.

He lowered himself between your legs. Shoulders bumping your thighs as he spread them apart, chest rising and falling in measured breaths, and lips smiling all the while. You sucked in a breath when his face came to rest just a few inches shy of your bare, aching warmth.

“Bucky?”

The man looked up at you and blinked.

“Yeah, honey?”

One thumb traced over the seam of your cunt, and your back nearly arched off the bed. There he was, again, gaze safe and secure to yours and hands moving in tandem as they always would. His tongue calmly followed suit. When you fisted his hair, he blinked once more and then directed his attention back to your wet, warm, velvety folds with a pointed look and a purpose.

The sound that escaped you next could hardly be classed as anything less than a scream, but the soft and unperturbed demeanor of the man between your legs showed he hadn’t noticed at all. He just sucked diligently—damn near dutifully—on your clit with a vigor you’d never felt, and when you yanked at his hair, he hummed.

It was like his lips had been trained for perfect suction; that was how well and thoroughly he descended upon your swollen little bud. An airtight kiss and a quick flick of his tongue, paired with his hot and heavy breaths fanning over your cunt, sent your senses into overdrive. Your toes curled inward, your throat let loose a gasp, and without fully realizing it, your walls were clamping down, pulsing and leaking out desire for more of this touch.

Then, without warning, Bucky brought a hand to the throbbing and slick cunt that was presently clenching around nothing, and he fed it two fingers. So forceful and deep he nearly buried his knuckles right along with them. Then he started scissoring those two fingers, sharply.

“Open, milaya,” he said. Again, it wasn’t entirely Bucky.

But you felt a faint remembrance there. You didn’t want him to stop. Maybe you were led astray by the gentle laps of his tongue or the prodding of his fingertips, or perhaps there was something stubbornly familiar about the way he was touching you now. You couldn’t tell.

All you knew was that both of your hands were holding tight to his head and begging him, wordlessly, for more.

Your moans rang all the way through the bedroom in your new, far-too-big penthouse apartment in Brooklyn, down the hall, reverberating through every inch of the space until all that could be heard were your sounds and his and the delectable little noises of your bodies working together. Bucky hadn’t even stirred to pleasure himself.

You wanted that part to change.

With your hip pinned to the mattress and Bucky’s tongue laving over your clit in ruthlessly quick movements, you probably would’ve liked to cum all over his mouth and fingers, but you wanted to see him pleased even more.

Just when he’d worked a third finger inside you and was driving you close to your peak, you pushed him away.

Bucky parted from your folds with a glistening chin and two furrowed eyebrows, clearly frustrated to have been torn from his mission before you reached completion, but you wouldn’t let that look linger for long. You used your leverage in his hair—however slight, comparatively, that grip might have been—to pull him up on the bed.

Bucky surprised you with just how swiftly he moved.

His steel-blue gaze was on yours in a second, equally penetrating and soft.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing—”

“My baby okay?”

He surprised you again; this time by how quick his demeanor was to shift the second he sensed something was wrong. Just like Bucky. It had to be him in there.

You nodded, still out of breath from the wonders he’d been working with his tongue. You squeezed his arm and tried to coax him toward you, to help him lower his body some, and when he seemed uncertain, you offered a smile. It’s okay to touch, you won’t break anything.

Bucky eyed you skeptically, but it was clear he was more wary of himself than of you. He glanced over your body, briefly to his, then slowly, apprehensively, sank down.

“Just fine,” you mumbled, hooking your legs around his back the second his chest was close enough to yours.

You felt an uptick in his heartbeat when your heels dug a little more firmly into the waistband of his pants. While your hands started working their way toward the front of that fabric, wedging clumsily between your bodies, his gaze flitted to yours, and his brows drew even tighter together. He didn’t try to stop you, but he certainly seemed confused as to why you wanted to include him so soon. Why you cared to show concern for him at all.

You noticed that then, and in just about every moment preceding, the man was taken aback by kindness.

Whether it was pulling him closer to you, tugging his pants down with a tender touch, running your fingers across the bulge in his boxers, or simply nodding your head and letting him know it was okay to touch you back, Bucky seemed unaccustomed to any care in this area.

When your fingers made it around his cock and started stroking him, gently, he just might’ve come apart.

His chest shuddered with the inhale of a short, strained breath, and his eyelids fluttered, as if meaning to close.

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and he started to shake his head.

“No, let me—”

“Let me,” you finished for him, wrist flicking back and forth quietly. You paused just to rub a quick touch between your folds, collect some arousal, then return to touching him when he met your eyes again and allowed you to continue. You skimmed his sensitive underside with your palm and let the warmth of him bleed into your fingertips as you worked him up to a comfortable pace.

Bucky rutted into your touch, probably harder than he meant to. Then he planted a hand beside your head and anchored his weight above you so that he was close enough to reach your lips—but he didn’t kiss you.

His expression hardened again, and he forcibly removed himself from the pulse of your fingers. He frowned.

“You want me to fuck you, no? Make you cum?”

He sounded irritated again.

Briefly, you recalled your words from earlier and nodded. It was true, you’d said it to him like that, and you’d meant it. You just couldn’t make sense of what he wanted now.

It seemed Bucky couldn’t wait to indulge you any longer. He fisted his cock in one hand, angled the head just outside of your cunt, and burst in with one thrust.

“Then let me,” he muttered, plunging down to the hilt.

The first go was rough, and the second was no kinder. Bucky’s face screwed up with indifference again, like he wanted to get something out of his brain and just do.

Like there was a task at hand that needed to be finished.

You couldn’t deny it felt fine at first. Fucking edifying after all those horrific thoughts had been eating away at your mind and rousing your own hunger for numbness. The drive of Bucky’s thick girth in and out, in and out repeatedly was no doubt capable of rendering you dumb. But being slammed into and taken so roughly was only good for you when you knew he was feeling good too.

This Bucky was back to being entirely flinty and lifeless—practically devoid of all emotion as he railed into you.

The back of your head was forced into the pillow with the weight of each thrust and Bucky’s thumb pushing into your chin—‘Better, milaya? Is this better for you?’—and frankly, you wanted to push him back and ask the same.

But you couldn’t. The pace he’d set was suffocating, and the stretch of his cock inside you was unusually tough.

Instead, you sank your nails into his arm and mumbled:

“Bucky.”

The man’s thrusts were both stabbing and rhythmic, sending a welt of pleasure blossoming up in your chest. You tried again:

“Bucky.”

He blinked.

And slowed.

“Bucky,” he mumbled back.

Seemingly mindless and mechanical, he snaked a hand behind your head to lift your face and tilt it toward the sight below: his cock splitting you open before him, parting your insides with an easy, welcome glide through the slick of your folds. You watched as your arousal enveloped him fully. Not a single inch of his rock-hard, throbbing shaft was spared; even his balls were soaked. They felt even heavier slapping your ass with each thrust.

“You remember?” you asked, hating how small you sounded.

The man’s nostrils flared, but he gave a curt nod. Expression taut and vigilant, as though anticipating something going wrong at any second. Still, he nodded.

“Years,” he answered.

“Years?”

Since he’d done this? Felt good? Become this way?

No, Bucky was activated in Madripoor just weeks ago. He didn’t look like he was ready to indulge in any ‘feel-good’ pleasure, and you weren’t sure when he’d last been with anyone else before you. Years could mean anything.

You chanced a few soft fingertips up to his cheeks, cupping either side of his clean-shaven face in an effort to anchor you both to one place. The pit of your stomach was reeling with warmth, and friction, and fullness. It took everything in you just to pull him in for a quick, grounding kiss before the feeling gave way to even more.

Bucky’s teeth nicked your bottom lip. He flinched back.

You ignored the sting and repeated his name, murmuring it carefully up to the seal of his mouth as if requesting entry with that word alone.

It seemed to work. Bucky kissed you back with a gentle, albeit guarded, sort of tenderness that made him soften. His thrusts weren’t as rough and punishing as they were before. The dull, throbbing ache between your legs transformed into something sweeter, and your body no longer had to brace itself against strokes that, to you, were nearly bruising and, to Bucky, were just necessary.

For once, your husband let out a soft grunt of pleasure.

“They never let us,” Bucky said as his teeth grit together, “It’s been years.”

“Since what?”

The face above you tempered more—this time with a trace of sadness behind it. He continued to rut into you, but now his thrusts were sloppy, and it seemed as though he were battling against his own pleasure with every motion. He lowered one hand between your legs and began to thumb at your clit, gaze torn from yours.

“Close now?” he muttered.

Ignoring the question you’d asked.

“Years since what?” you pressed anyway. The tiny ripples preceding bliss had already begun to stir inside you, maddeningly, with every flick of his thumb, but your curiosity to know the whole truth was stronger still.

Bucky’s hips were moving at a feverish pace now; his free hand made a fist in the sheets beside your head, and his chest heaved with a series of short, ragged breaths that were no doubt meant to mask his moans as well. Notwithstanding the burn you felt between your legs—he really was much rougher and stronger now, you saw—you cupped his cheek again to tilt his face toward yours.

What you saw made your stomach drop.

Your heart clenched like a fist within the confines of your ribcage, and there it was—that terrible ache you felt each time you saw something awful materialize before you.

Bucky’s eyes were wet with tears. He wouldn’t blink.

He tilted his head into your touch, as if for support, but really, the weight of it signaled to you that he just wanted to feel you. Be assured that you were there. His big, broad arms seemed suddenly unable to hold his weight, and then he sank into your frame with a grunt and another stuttered breath. Like he was ready to collapse.

“Don’t leave again,” he said quietly.

The pain in your chest elevated, in bloom.

“Bucky I didn’t— wasn’t—” you started to say.

The friction between your bodies was almost too much to bear. You couldn’t be sure if you were talking to your husband, soldat, or some strange, inconceivable mixture of the two, but you could tell that this one was desperate.

Pleading.

“I can’t lose you again.”

The head of his cock grazed your most sensitive spot inside, and a whine seeped out through your teeth. Bucky’s whole body was blanketing yours, torso flush with your front and hips working an erratic cadence as he got a glimpse of release himself. He groaned out in pleasure and begged you to stay. You promised that you would. Your legs were still wound around his sides, but both of your bodies were slick with a sheen of sweat; it was hard to hang on. Bucky’s hair was wild and pushed back from his face, but his eyes were clear when they finally met yours, and you heard him mumble again, ‘Please stay.’

You didn’t know what else to say but okay, baby, I will.

You swore you would stay, and in between oaths, your mouth was consumed by a barrage of kisses—Bucky got to feast with a full set of teeth again, primal as ever—and then your climax hit. Euphoria washed over you whole with a force you weren’t expecting to feel, and you couldn’t help but cry out and whine as waves of pleasure coursed straight from the innermost depths of your core.

Bucky’s hips collided with yours in two more stuttered thrusts, and when he bottomed out at the last, you felt a heavy spurt of warmth. A groan coiling out of his chest. Muscles growing lax and two sturdy arms coming to bracket your head as your husband’s whole body weight went folding into yours. You kissed some more, in between frenzied intakes of breaths and steadying moments where you were simply trying to ground your body and get your heart to slow down to a normal rate.

You held each other in silence for a while. Bucky’s head fell next to yours on the pillow when the last of his spend had been emptied, but otherwise, he didn’t stir. At some point, his hands slid behind your back, and the second he hugged you to him, you felt secure in that embrace.

You were probably as far as you’d ever been from understanding who the fuck your husband was, but all it seemed you were capable of feeling for now was pity.

Pity for the years he’d lost to captivity; pity for what was little more than mere existence under HYDRA’s thumb; pity for all the things you still didn’t know about his past.

You held Bucky tighter, and, flooded with this strange, grating emotion and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness, you wished you could protect him, too.

“James?” you mumbled into his hair.

Bucky didn’t respond.

You squeezed his shoulder. Still nothing.

Against your better judgment, you tried to shift yourself underneath his body. You figured you wouldn’t make it far at all, but at least he would be aware that you were trying to get up. Maybe even start to move with you.

He didn’t.

It took everything in you just to wedge an elbow back, struggle to prop yourself up against his weight, and when you were about to let out a huff of an exasperated laugh and tell him, Bucky, you’re crushing me, honey, could you please ease up a little, your request was answered before the words could even leave your mouth.

At the sound of two new muffled voices carrying up from the living room and what appeared to be noises from shuffling feet, Bucky rose straight from the bed, off you.

Your gaze trailed his to the door, and you reached for him.

“Baby, it’s just—”

Bucky was back on his feet. Yanking his boxers and pants up his legs and buckling his belt in no time at all.

The movers. It’s just the movers bringing in furniture—

You moved your hand closer to your husband in the hopes of stalling his movements for half a second, but then a set of ruthless blue eyes had you pinned, quick:

“Stay.”

Your outstretched arm was taken up in a much stronger, stiffer one, and you were suddenly pulled over to Bucky.

But you knew from the eyes it wasn’t him at all.

And you weren’t so much being tugged toward him as you were being hauled to the floor. Thrown on your knees beside the bed, next to Bucky. He was about to leave.

Without thinking, you reached for one of the legs of his trousers and sank your nails into the fabric to hold him in place, to tell him again that there was nothing to see out there but the people you knew, no threat outside at all. But Bucky was deaf to your pleas, it seemed. He shrugged you off easily and made a move for his gun, expression blank, stolid, calm, hardened. Decided.

You tried to rise to your feet but were stopped.

“STAY,” Bucky boomed again, this time an order that he didn’t even deign to complete with a look your way.

If he had—if he even possessed the ability to consider anything but the immediate task at hand—he would’ve seen his own hand knock you to the floor to keep you from standing. Might’ve caught a glimpse of the instant your head struck the edge of the nightstand before you hit the ground. Could’ve even made out the first traces of blood that came trickling out from above your temple. Would’ve seen you cower back, viscerally, out of fear.

But holding the side of your head and watching him leave, grim realization twisted at the pit of your stomach, and you knew the man wouldn’t have stopped if he had.

If your soldat’s objective was to protect you from any harm lurking outside that door, real or illusory, nothing you were capable of doing now could stop that. At expense to yourself, at expense to him, at expense to whatever lives stood between the Winter Soldier and that unwavering, hardwired goal, he still would not ever stop.

Thinking of new, innocent lives in the balance, now, you scrambled for your phone the next second to call Steve.

You tried him once. Twice. A third time crawling on your knees, then standing, then staggering over to the door and pulling the phone from your ear just to send a string of texts to your friend while the thing continued to ring.

SOS

Need help

Pick up please

Bucky’s stuck and he’s

About to hurt people here

A crash sounded outside. You hurried to the door. Your hand closed around the knob and tried to turn it. The handle turned freely, but something behind it was refusing to let you leave the room. You pressed again.

“Bucky!”

Your cry was useless in the face of the barricade outside.

You pushed your shoulder and, behind it, the whole force of your weight against it anyway, trying to get out.

The line went dead. You tried again.

Now with your phone to one ear and the bedroom door taking the brunt of your hits from the other, bleeding side of your body, you scarcely heard much of anything else. The ring started. Stopped. Began again when you pressed a shaky finger to Steve’s contact name, and continued in a cycle for some time while you tried to force whatever was on the other side of the door away.

The second a voice broke through the haze of your frantic, half-crazed state of consciousness, you cried:

“STEVE!”

“Mrs. Barnes?”

You were shocked to hear a woman on the other end. Your pulse was still racing, shoulder aching from the impact of each desperate push you’d been forcing against the door, and then you stopped. Another loud something sounded down the hallway, further away, but you were too startled and unnerved to take any note of it.

You started to ask, ‘Where’s Steve?’ when the voice continued:

“This is Mrs. Barnes?”

“Yes,” you answered woodenly.

You held the phone as close to your ear as you could, but still, the woman’s words were coming in and out in bursts. You must’ve mistakenly accepted the call when trying to reach Steve—you couldn’t think right now; could barely retract the phone far enough to see a strange number displayed on the screen. You swallowed.

“—from Lenox Hill Hospital at Northwell Health—”

The high-rise medical center on the Upper East Side you’d visited that week. Bucky had wanted you tested for nutritional deficiencies and anemia, of all fucking things.

“—if you had a moment or two to chat and maybe—”

No, you needed Steve, not this outpatient courtesy call.

You would’ve liked to hang up. Should’ve hung up. In fact, your fingers were practically itching to hit the button the whole time the nurse was speaking to you, but something in you just couldn’t be persuaded to do it. It took several more seconds before your senses began to creep back, and by then, when you were about to drop the call, you heard a phrase that stopped you on a dime.

“—but the doctor advises prenatal vitamins—”

“What?” you snapped, far more harshly than you meant.

The nurse paused a beat, whether from incredulity at how rude you’d just sounded or to consider something. When she resumed, she sounded a little more guarded.

“Yes…Dr. Watkins did reach out to you about your bloodwork from your last visit, didn’t she? I thought—”

“No,” you said, rushed and painfully brusque, again. You tried to rein in your tone some before continuing, “She didn’t—didn’t reach out about anything. What vitamins?”

Another pause.

“Prenatals.”

You hated that she gave you another second to chew on that word before taking a breath and pressing on.

“I’m terribly, terribly sorry to be the one to spring that on you, Mrs. Barnes—I thought you knew…um—” The nurse was sheepish now, almost embarrassed to be speaking, “—you’re about…three weeks along in your pregnancy.”

Three weeks along.

Advised prenatal vitamins.

For the child growing inside of you.

A rivulet of blood trickled into your left eye.

Your whole body was apt to convulse, but it didn’t.

You hung up.

—

Taglist: (please lmk if I missed anyone! I can only tag 50 at a time so will continue in a separate post) @vicmc624 @she-could-never @mcira @kentokaze @identity2212 @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007 @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx @pono-pura-vida @geminiflanagansblog @buggy14 @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @buckysdoll1520 @armystay89 @minimarvelingmarvel @kunakizen @ghostiebby06 @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grantspector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #mob bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #winter soldier #winter soldier smut

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: GUILTY CONSCIENCE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!au: ever since that first night, you can't get him off your mind—and even though you handed him over to law enforcement, it looks like he still wants you too. PART 1 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, semi-public sex (in a bathroom), oral (m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), pet names (detective, princess, smart girl, pretty girl, etc.), gojo cums in your mouth. non-sexual threatening. non-sexual usage of knives/guns. more plot than porn. this is not good for you btw !!! 4K words.

author's note: pls appreciate your smut writers bc this shit is hard !!!! the sk!series might be over after this one bc i'm not feeling it anymore, but nothing's set in stone yet. posting this for the ppl who wanted a part two, but personally i would've just left it as a standalone.. oh well, i didn't want 4K words to go to waste, so enjoy 🤍

“satoru gojo, what are we going to do with you?” your subordinate asks, resting his hands on the table dividing the dim interrogation room in two. you and your coworker sit on one side, facing the serial killer on the other side—who also happens to be the man you fucked in an alley two weeks ago.

ever since that first encounter, you haven’t been able to get his face out of your mind. at work, his ice blue eyes haunted your every move. at home, he was all you could picture as your mind strayed back to your time beneath him. and now, as you and your boss interrogate him, all you can think about is how good satoru’s hands felt roaming over your skin when you cornered him—or, more accurately, when he cornered you.

“i dunno,” satoru replies, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands behind his head. he grins shamelessly, looking you up and down with interest. “so, pretty girl, how’ve you been since we last met?”

you slip your hands into your pockets to stop yourself from doing something you’ll regret and ignore the curious look your coworker gives you. “this meeting isn’t about me. this is about the people you killed and the punishment you’re about to get,” you answer through gritted teeth.

satoru laughs, eyes locking with yours and seeing right through you. “that’s funny. so, who’s this shrimpy guy next to you? your boyfriend?” he jeers, grinning unnervingly at your coworker. you shoot your subordinate an apologetic look, which he responds to with a nod.

“i’m her boss, actually,” he clarifies, running a hand through his blonde hair and narrowing his eyes. “kento nanami. and i’ve been referred to as a lot of things, but shrimpy is a first.” satoru makes a face and laughs, as if he’s amused by the whole scene. 

“really? i’m surprised,” satoru replies easily. “i mean, whatever. i’ve seen better looking officers… like the one next to you.” he looks back at you, a careless smile still dancing on his lips. kento frowns and looks back and forth from you to satoru, and you force yourself to maintain a poker face in order to detract any suspicion.

“do you two know each other?” kento asks, crossing his arms. satoru starts laughing again, to which you roll your eyes. even if satoru were to tell kento what you hadn’t—that you two had fucked when you were supposed to be arresting him—you doubted that kento would believe him. after all, what’s the word of an obnoxious criminal compared to yours?

you shake your head and ignore satoru. “i’m the one who’s been leading the investigation on him for the past couple months,” you answer. kento meets your eyes and cocks an eyebrow, so you continue, “we met two weeks ago. i cornered him, but he escaped—”

“she let me,” satoru interjects, clearly enjoying the death glare you shoot at him a second later.

“you held a gun to my forehead,” you remind him pointedly, tapping the spot on your head where you vividly remember the cold metal resting against. 

“yeah, but i kissed it aft—”

“we’re getting off-topic,” kento interrupts, shooting you a warning glance. “detective, i’ll handle the interrogation from here.”

you hesitate, not liking how smug satoru’s expression is—but, seeing as you don’t have a choice, you dip your head in assent and exit the room. 

now that satoru’s been caught and is now in the grasp of the law, you don’t really have anything to do for the rest of the day. he was your case, and now, it looks like it’s closed, especially if your boss is the one interrogating him.

kento nanami has a reputation among law enforcement—he’s known as the stoic, serious man with a perfect record. there hasn’t been a single criminal he’s interrogated that hasn’t cracked, although the knot in your stomach tells you that this might be the first.

a sharp knock sounds on your office door, summoning you back from your train of thought. “it’s open,” you call, holding a piping hot coffee with both hands. kento opens the door and steps inside, eyebrows unusually tensed. his hands are balled into fists, too, in stark contrast to his characteristically calm demeanor. 

“something wrong?” you ask tentatively, studying your boss’s troubled eyes.

kento takes a seat in the leather chair in the corner of your office and rests his elbow on the armrest, rubbing his temples. “detective, be honest with me. what happened the night you were supposed to arrest satoru gojo?”

for the first time since satoru pinned you to the wall of a darkened alley, your heart drops. kento’s knowing eyes watch your every move, from the subtle twitch in your eye to the way your fingers tense around the cup of coffee. “what do you mean?” you ask carefully, surprised at how steady your own voice is.

“detective, don’t play games with me,” kento asserts calmly, hand casually drifting towards the side of his waist. you know him well enough to know what he’s reaching for—the same instrument that another man pressed against your forehead just two weeks ago.

despite your mind being clouded with fear and uncertainty, you manage to rationalize your way through the situation. what proof could your boss possibly have besides the word of a criminal? 

it’s your word against his—and you both know whose word kento’ll believe.

“that night, he threatened to kill me,” you start, repeating the story you told the authorities when they came ten minutes too late to catch satoru. “and he must’ve drugged me or knocked me unconscious because next thing i knew, he was gone.” your confidence grows with every word, and you start nodding as if you believe your own lies.

kento’s eyes narrow, and you force yourself to hold your poker face as he scrutinizes you and your words. three long, painful seconds of silence pass before his hand moves away from the holster strapped to his waist, and you internally sigh in relief. he stands without a word and makes to exit the room, but before he does, you risk it all. “why do you ask, sir?”

your boss pauses and turns back to you, eyebrows lifting in mild interest. he doesn’t answer immediately, and you tentatively ask, “...what did he tell you?”

kento exhales a soft huff of air, a look of dread in his brown eyes. “detective, for your own peace of mind, i assure you that you don’t want to know.”

well, fuck.

“i trust your judgement, then,” you reply, feeling your poker face start to slip away. you lift your now-cold cup of coffee to your lips and take a sip, attempting to hide the grimace that threatens to make an appearance. “have a good night, boss.”

“you too, detective. stay safe.”

“i’ll do my best.”

kento nods and heads out, and through your open window you watch him tell another one of your coworkers about how he’s planning on heading out early to make bread for his family, a gentle smile on his lips. eventually, he waves bye and exits the building.

you finish off your coffee and stand up, fishing out your key card from your pocket. you figure that you should head to the bathroom before you go home, just in case. a couple of your coworkers congratulate you when you come out of your office, praising you on the capture of your suspect. you take their compliments with a smile, ultimately wishing them a good night and escaping to the bathroom.

the door clicks shut behind you, and the comfortable quiet eases you at once. but before you can even appreciate the silence of the confined room, a sultry, familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. “aw, you weren’t gonna say bye before you left?”

you turn and your mouth drops open—standing before you, in the flesh, is the criminal you swore you last saw handcuffed to a chair.

“what the fu—”

satoru reaches out and grabs your wrist before you can scurry away or grab your phone. he pulls you into his chest, and you can feel his heartbeat against your back—at least, that’s what you notice before he clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle your yells.

“shut it,” satoru hisses, breath hot against the side of your face. he turns you towards the mirror of the bathroom so you can see how he’s holding you—one hand over your mouth, and one wrapped around your waist. “don’t try anything clever, sweetheart. i wouldn’t wanna have to hurt that pretty face of yours.”

you turn your head and glare at him furiously, cussing like a sailor against his hand. you eventually try to bite it, but your meager attack is essentially useless against his iron grip. satoru raises his eyebrows sternly and hushes you again, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. 

“i’ll answer your questions, honey, but be careful,” he pauses and nods at his pocket, where the handle of what appears to be a knife—how the fuck did he get his hands on a knife?—pokes out of the cloth. “okay, i’m gonna take my hand off your mouth now,” he murmurs, purposefully lowering his voice.

true to his word, satoru removes his hand from your mouth. you take a long breath and hesitate—again, there’s not much you can do in this situation but play along. if he’s telling the truth, you can ask questions and he can answer them, so you try your hand at getting some information and biding time. someone would have to walk in the bathroom eventually, right?

“by the way,” satoru starts, a grin curving the corners of his lips upward. “nobody’s gonna come save you, princess. the door’s locked from the inside.” he also removes his hand from your waist, letting you take a step back.

“how?” you ask suspiciously, unsure if he’s telling the truth or not.

satoru laughs—his hair falls into his eyes, and immediately shakes it away with a huff of breath. “i’m good with my hands. but you already know that, don’t ya?”

you back away towards the other side of the bathroom, where sinks line the quartz countertop. “why aren’t you still in the interrogation room?”

“you think you’re the only girl i can convince to let me go?” satoru tuts, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. he reaches into his pocket—not the one with the knife—and extracts a badge of some sort. satoru flicks it at you, and you catch it in midair. to your surprise, it’s the badge of one of your superiors who was supposed to be keeping an eye on satoru. the coy smile on satoru’s face confirms what you’re thinking, and his nod seals it the next second. 

“okay,” you say carefully, drawing out the word for a couple seconds. “how long have you been waiting here?”

“long enough,” satoru answers vaguely, not bothering to elaborate.

“thanks a lot,” you deadpan.

“nice to see that you’re still feisty—”

“and what the hell did you tell my boss?” you interrupt, suddenly remembering the dread-filled way kento had looked at you. the way your voice rises is unexpected enough to force satoru to involuntarily take a step back. it’s not much, but the step you take forward a second later to assert your position brings you a small feeling of satisfaction. after all, he’s only human—and all humans get surprised by loud noises.

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender and eyes you skeptically. “you’re really worried about your boss’s approval, aren’t you?” he asks dryly, white hair falling into his eyes again. “heh, desperate much?”

you roll your eyes and curl your hands into fists—unfortunately, your action only seems to amuse satoru, but you ignore the little “aw” he coos and continue glaring at him. “answer the fucking question, satoru.”

“language,” he snorts. a second later, satoru cocks his head and thinks for a moment, and when his eyes land on you again he asks, “so, you’re still callin’ me satoru? cute.”

your face involuntarily heats up, and even though you’re sure satoru can tell, you pretend not to notice—again. “answer the question or i’ll scream.”

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“wouldn’t i?”

you don’t get the chance to fufill your threat, because satoru sees that you’re serious a second too early—everything’s a blur as he grabs your wrists and bunches them into one hand, firmly securing your hands behind your back. his chest rests on top of your back as he folds you over the bathroom counter, and his reflection leers at you from the mirror. “nice try, baby. but remember, you’re dealin’ with a world-class serial killer.”

“world-class? how humble of you,” you snap irritably, craning your neck to glare at satoru out of the corner of your eye. “you asshole, get off me or i’ll—”

satoru interrupts you by prodding at your lips with two of his fingers, forcing your mouth open and slipping them inside. you instantly attempt to bite him, but his fingers are so long that they trigger your gag reflex instead. “missed me, detective?” satoru coos, curling his fingers downwards and pressing on your tongue. a little whine involuntarily slips out of your lips, and satoru takes that as a yes. “yeah, i can tell,” he continues, studying your heated face in the reflection of the mirror. “i bet you couldn’t stop thinkin’ about me since that night, yeah?”

he doesn’t bother waiting for a response before he extracts his fingers and leaves you gasping for breath. you watch as satoru lifts his now-soaked fingers to his lips and runs his tongue over them, ice-blue eyes boring into your own. it’s disgusting, filthy even, but that doesn’t stop your thighs from clenching together in a futile attempt to hide your arousal from him.

“y’know, i think you’re wearing too many clothes,” satoru sighs, resting his chin on top of your head and smiling coyly. “wanna fix that for me?”

“do i have a choice?”

“no.” satoru pushes himself off of you and gives you enough space to start removing your clothes without his smothering presence. the idea of running away or screaming crosses your mind, but the serial killer’s smile makes you certain that you’d regret it—and that’s even disregarding the knife that’s still shining at you from his pocket. 

seeing as you don’t really have any other option, you slowly shrug off your coat and let it slide down your body and onto the floor. your collared shirt comes off next, followed by your pants, until there’s hardly anything shielding you from satoru’s hungry eyes. the feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach is hard to describe—it’s something like a mix between longing and fear, two emotions you hadn’t felt since that night.

and maybe, even though every instinct you have insists that this is the last thing you should be finding pleasure in, you want to feel that way again.

“you really coulda been anything in the world with that body,” satoru sighs, leaning back against a wall and taking his sweet time looking you up and down. his eyes narrow slyly as he watches you shrink away from him instinctually, and the next thing you know, he’s on you again, hands tracing over your skin and lips unbearably close to yours. “although, i guess it’s a good thing you’re a detective, ‘cause i wouldn’t have met you if you weren’t.”

you shouldn’t be agreeing with him, and as he lifts you up onto the counter, you also know that you shouldn’t be letting him do this. it goes against everything you swore to protect when you joined law enforcement, and if this ever got out—no, when it got out, you’d be the pariah of the city.

but even after thinking it through, one, two, maybe even three times, you can’t find it in your heart to care about much else than the hands pushing apart your thighs and slipping inside your shamelessly wet cunt.

“heh, how long has it been since we last did this?” satoru coos, eyes glazing over with a mixture of lust and adoration. his face is redder than you’ve ever seen it—the blush spreads all the way up to the tips of his ears, and it’s even more prominent underneath the overhead lights as he eyes you. “two weeks, right? feels like it’s been twenty.”

“do you ever shut up?” you mutter sourly, averting your eyes from satoru’s. he responds by curling up the two fingers he has inside your cunt, a mean little smile on his lips. 

“careful with that mouth of yours,” satoru warns, pushing his fingers in farther until he’s practically knuckle-deep inside of you. his thumb rests firmly against your clit, toying with the sensitive skin. “it’ll get you in trouble one day, pretty girl…” satoru withdraws his fingers in one swift motion with a soft, wet pop. he lifts his hand to his lips and licks off your slick, swiping his tongue over his fingers a couple times with a smile. “y’know what? i’ll let you go if you can do one thing for me, ‘kay?”

he waits for your response, raising an eyebrow patiently for you to catch your breath. it almost feels like deja vu, or some cheesy movie from the 90’s: the pretty little detective getting fucked by the big bad serial killer, and you know how these films always ended—not pretty.

“what?” you ask halfheartedly, expecting him to ask you to do something like erase him from the police records or sabotage the investigation. satoru cups your face with both hands, leaning in close enough for his lips to brush against yours, and his smile is almost mocking when he replies.

“suck my dick.”

part of you wants to ask “that’s it?”, but the glimmer in satoru’s knowing eyes makes you certain that he won’t make this easy for you. 

“what if i say no?” you ask tentatively. it’s a stupid question—now you’re just playing russian roulette with his rationality, and either way, you already know your decision.

the past two weeks have been torture. every waking moment of yours was spent thinking about the man you fucked, and every time you thought of his carefree smile and feather-light touch, you just felt guilty for wanting more. after all, when you first became a detective, you swore to prioritize your job and not make any personal relationships with your subjects. and yet, here you were, almost too eager to get on your knees for the serial killer who you swore to incapacitate. 

satoru shrugs nonchalantly in response to your question and not-so-subtly shoots a furtive glance at his pocket, where the handle of his knife still pokes out. “you’re a smart girl. i think you can guess, yeah?”

and that’s how you ended up with your lips wrapped around satoru’s dick for the seventh time (if you include every fantasy you’ve had about giving him head). it’s almost funny how he switches up the second you run your tongue over his blushing pink tip—his face goes red, all the way up to his ears, and the little breathy moans that slip out of his lips would be adorable in any other context but this.

“f-fuck, wasn’t expecting you to be this good,” he manages to mutter through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering open and shut. “where’d you learn to suck dick like this, heh—”

it’s been.. a while since satoru first helped you get on your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants, and even though it could’ve just been a couple minutes, it feels like this is all you’ve ever known. satoru’s ice blue eyes have barely moved from you since you started, and it looks like it’ll stay like that until you finish—or, more accurately, until he finishes.

satoru’s foot bounces on the floor as you lick a long stripe from the tip of his dick to the top of it, and the way his nails dig into his palm makes you absolutely certain that he’s close to cumming down your throat. “shit, don’t— don’t stop,” he chokes out, threading his fingers through your hair and involuntarily pushing down your head. “fuck—”

when satoru finally cums, it’s pitifully obvious—actually, it’s almost embarrassing. last time, you were the one in shambles when he was done with you, but now, it looks like it’s the other way around. his eyes flicker as they almost roll back from the sheer pleasure of you sucking him dry, and when satoru’s cum shoots out of his painfully hard dick, it’s a hot mess that leaks out of your mouth and down your chin. 

“y-yeah, good girl,” he murmurs shakily, reaching down and swiping his thumb over your cum-soaked, swollen lips. you lick off the thick, viscous liquid from his fingers instinctually, a dazed little smile on your face as you watch satoru tilt his head back towards the ceiling.

it’s interesting, seeing the city’s infamous serial killer like this. he’s leaning back against the white tile of the bathroom walls, chest heaving from his orgasm, and in that moment, you realize that his attention is on everything else but you. 

so, naturally, you stab him in the back.

not literally—that’d be a pain for your office’s custodian to clean up, but you extract the knife from satoru’s discarded pants and, before he can register the sharp object in your shaky hand, you press it to his blush-red throat. 

satoru’s hazy eyes widen in disbelief as he realizes what’s going on before they narrow in what looks almost like a mix between anger and shock. it’s stupid, foolish, and almost naive, but somewhere in your chest, it feels like a dagger pokes at your softened heart when you categorize the look in his eyes as betrayal. which is, by all accounts, entirely unreasonable—did he seriously think you wouldn’t take advantage of him like this?

at the end of the day, no matter how good the dick was, you weren’t about to sacrifice your well-paying job for a man on the run from the law.

“what the fuck?” satoru snaps, hand twitching in a movement to throw you off of him, but thankfully, the sudden shift in atmosphere heightened your instincts to a point where nothing could possibly catch you off-guard. you dig in the knife a millimeter deeper into his throat, avoiding eye contact with the man you just made cum with your mouth. “are you—”

“yeah, i am,” you assert, biding time. as much as you’d like to pretend that you’re completely in control of the situation, there’s only so long that you can hold up this stalemate. satoru’s stronger than you physically, and the second he figures out a way to handle the knife pressed to his neck, he’d get his revenge.

satoru comes to this conclusion about as fast as you did, and his lips curve upwards in a jeering smile. the look in his eyes is borderline insane when he snarls, “nobody’s gonna rescue you from me, princess. just you wait—”

and, with perfect comedic timing, the bathroom door opens, and one of your female co-workers steps in. you’ve never talked to her much, but thankfully, her instincts are even faster than yours.

what happens next goes by in a haze. your co-worker holds a gun to the side satoru’s head, and calls for backup. then, a handful of sleepy-eyed police officers haul away a cursing and fighting satoru to who-knows-where.

but just before he’s out of sight, satoru shoots you an unsettlingly calm look. and as if that wasn’t concerning enough, the last words he mouths to you are “this isn’t over.”

#osaemu #gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n

[randomhealer]

Okay but- Boothill (sfw-nsfw)

warnings: GN reader, not reviewed, nsfw, I lost everything and I'm living on a bench in Penacony. this is crack don't take it seriously pls, hmmm tetanus :)

okay but- Boothill likes to rub his cheek against yours, just because he can't feel you with other parts of his body.

He blushes when you kiss his face but secretly (not so secret since he says it openly) it's his favorite thing

He gets upset easily with anyone who is close to you and this always causes problems for you because he doesn't like it when people touch you, whether they are men or women.

then he follows you behind you like he's your shadow and one second he's behind you quietly and the next he's on the other side of the street fighting with a guy who was looking at you for 5 seconds longer than Boothill would like...

he is vindictive, yes. Once a guy complimented you by giving you a light kiss on the cheek and Boothill spent a week calling this guy and saying threats like: "I know where you live, and I'm going to put a bullet in your head before learning not to touch something that isn't yours"  ends up coming out as "I know where you live, and I- I hope you have a good day" because of his filter

And when did you take him to the Express with you? guy could make a second explosion wanting to fight with everyone until you fight with him so he stays quiet and he will sit on the couch, opening his legs completely while looking at you, waiting for you to sit on his lap. He has no shame as he buries his face in your neck and stays quiet for just a minute before he starts teasing you by biting or licking you. (in front of everyone at Express)

He gets extremely upset if you deny him something (especially a kiss) he will be grumpy all day, mumbling all day almost dramatically. he will complain about this even with a Warp Trotter, But it won't be long before he gets to you and pins you to some surface to take what's rightfully his.

Boothill loves it when you encourage him in something or when you praise him. See you looking at his body with curiosity in your eyes? He can't help but have a smug smile. he smiles more seeing how small your hands are on his chest gives him slight satisfaction but he'll still pat you if your hands wander too much.

He can drink the most variable things possible but he won't drink Himeko's coffee, for some reason his body warns him as if it were a dangerous substance so he always passes the coffee to you as if it were a bomb and an apologetic look...

You may or may not wake up to him in the morning eating bullets from his gun next to your in the bed and he will just look at you with a smile and offer you one even though he knows it's impossible for you to eat it 

NSFW (pls don't read this far if you are underage)

His favorite thing is probably fingering you, he loves doing that because he can occupy himself on your neck while you squirm

but he loves to eat too, to stay between your legs for hours while you get to the point where you start crying and whining while trying to pull his head away from you. His hair is a bit sensitive so he might end up growling and blushing when you pull it.

Does it bite you in every possible place, chest, thighs, neck? yes! your curves? yes too... 

He misses his body, how he could feel your chest on his, the heat of your body on his and how good it would be to feel how hot and tight you are inside, he hates it but he still feels a surge of satisfaction in him as he feels it. see what he can do with just his fingers and his mouth on you.

He may or may not be jealous of vibrators... I mean... are those things giving you more pleasure than him? Ugh but it's okay, he can use these things to his advantage...

Give you more compliments than degradation, not because he wants to but because it's the only thing he can do...

"I know you can give me one more, aren't you my little sunshine?" (this was supposed to be a my little bitch)

He loves to be mean to you in bed, if he can't put words into words then he will act, he loves pulling your hair to kiss you, bite you hard, make you beg for not giving you anything and make you cry for giving you more than you asked for.

His day ends more satisfied when he sees you getting out of bed, shaking with wobbly legs and dirty with your own juice and sweat... aren't you the cutest thing he's ever seen? almost like a little bunny...

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #boothill x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x male reader #honkai star rail x female reader

[quin-ns]

The Bet (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Word count: 4.4K

Summary: butcher leaves you to keep an eye on soldier boy and things become interesting when a deck of cards gets involved

Tags: (18+), enemies to lovers (not exactly but kinda), canon-typical behavior, soldier boy being soldier boy (yes that’s a warning), humor/comedy, strip poker, bets, kissing, fingering, unprotected p in v sex, table sex, surprise ending

A/N: been wanting to write for a jensen character for a while and got inspired rewatching the boys. the character is such an ass but I can’t help but be into him lol

Cross-posted to ao3 • the boys masterlist • writing masterlist

“We’ll be back in a bit,” Butcher announced, stepping in the direction of the door. He looked between you and Hughie, as if still trying to decide which ‘we’ he wanted. “Come on, lad,” he addressed the latter. Hughie seemed relieved, eyeing Soldier Boy wearily before standing and joining Butcher.

Hughie gave you an apologetic look, while Butcher pointed at you and said, “you—keep an eye on him.” He pointed at the supe, as if it wasn’t obvious.

You scoffed, narrowing your eyes at Butcher. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“No,” Butcher replied casually, ushering Hughie out the door before he himself attempted to step out. You got to your feet and caught the door before he could shut it. Butcher let out a dramatic sound and cocked his head as he looked down at you.

You didn’t find him intimidating, not anymore. You had squared up against the man more than once. Hell, you thought Butcher respected you more for it.

“You have a problem?” he asked, baiting you.

“He’s gonna try and fuck me,” you said bluntly—albeit under your breath.

Butcher scoffed out a laugh, seeming actually amused. He also knew it was true. Ever since Soldier Boy had laid his eyes on you, he’d been gunning for you. Whether it was lewd comments or hungry gazes, it was obvious to everyone. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it one bit.

“Well, don’t let him then,” Butcher offered in a mocking tone.

Butcher wouldn’t have left you with the man if he thought you’d actually get hurt, you knew that. And it’s not like the supe scared you—at least not for that reason. The only one who seemed outwardly uncomfortable with his behavior was Hughie. You could handle him, but being alone in his company wasn’t an ideal way to spend your afternoon.

“Gee, thanks,” you replied sarcastically.

“Hey lady, I’m a gentleman,” Soldier Boy piped up in a gruff, annoyed voice. He seemed genuinely offended.

“See?” Butcher said in that stupid, I told you so tone. “Like I said, we’ll be back.”

With an annoyed huff, you pulled your hand from the door and allowed the man to pull it shut in your face. You caught his victorious smirk right before. Everything was a showdown with Butcher it seemed, and boy did he love to win.

“So,” Soldier Boy started as you turned back to him. “Are you gonna be a bitch to me this whole time? Just ‘cause I paid you a few compliments?”

You scoffed and shook your head, wondering how he thought saying shit like, “your tits look great in that shirt,” counted as a compliment. Whatever, he wasn’t going to change and you weren’t going to bother yourself with lecturing the stubborn asshole. You and the boys needed him as a weapon, not as a politically correct member of society. You’d burden yourself with whipping him into shape after he took care of Homelander.

“We’re gonna end up with a few hours to kill,” you noted as a change of topic, looking around the room.

You could hear the smirk in his voice when Soldier Boy said, “if you’re looking for suggestions, I have a few ideas.”

You rolled your eyes, but glossed over it. He was attractive and even charismatic—you couldn’t deny that—but he seemed to counter that with the crudeness of his personality. You spotted a deck of cards and grabbed it. “How’s your poker face?” you asked, holding up the cards for him to see.

“Texas hold ‘em?” He actually seemed into the idea.

“Sure, why not,” you decided.

You sat down across from him at the table where he’d been sitting. He pushed aside wrappers and pill bottles to make room. You began to deal and laid out the cards.

“What, you don’t have any chips?” Soldier Boy asked, looking at you expectantly.

“Where would I have chips at?”

“I don’t know, poker was your idea. You can’t play poker without betting.”

“I mean, you can,” you argued half-heartedly. Being alone with him was exhausting already.

“If you’re fucking boring you can,” he shot back. Suddenly, a look you could only describe as devious crossed his face. “We could play strip poker.”

At first, your instinct was to tell him hell no. You should’ve, honestly. Another part of you wondered if it would be fun— it was that impulsive, indelicate side of you that made you work so well with the boys. You must’ve been curious, crazy, or both to agree. But, you did.

“Fine.”

He practically beamed, grinning in victory. You were already starting to regret it. “Now it’s a real game. Gotta have something on the line.”

Even as he said that, you had an inkling that the stakes would be a bit higher for you. And as the two of you played and clothing began to disappear from the both of you, you suspected he wanted to be naked in front of you almost as much as he wanted you to be naked in front of him. That became obvious when he took off his shirt and pants after his first two losses. You’d opted to remove a sock after yours.

Still, the two of you carried on a conversation during the game. It was a shock to you when you began to relax around him. It was even more surprising when you laughed at some stupid joke he made at Hughie and Butcher’s expense.

“You seem like most of the brains behind the operation,” Soldier Boy continued, laying the charm on thick. You could spot it clear as day, but even you weren’t totally immune to it as you grew to actually enjoy the game.

“More like their wrangler,” you replied with a small laugh.

“Maybe they’re too busy grabbing at each other's dicks,” Soldier Boy suggested. It pulled another laugh from you despite the offensiveness of it. Being around the boys for so long you’d developed a darker sense of humor.

A smile crossed his face, seeming proud of himself as he watched you react.

“You startin’ to hate me less?” he asked suddenly, like he just had to know right then.

“What?” you replied with a small chuckle, hardly registering the question for a minute. “Does it matter?”

It seemed to pain him when he replied unconvincingly, “no,” with a scoff. “Well, maybe.”

“Wow, that must’ve been hard,” you commented sarcastically. “Does my opinion actually matter to you?”

“What, a guy can’t make conversation?” Soldier Boy was getting defensive.

Over the past however long, his ego had been deeply bruised. You saw it back when he realized the truth about his team. He’d been betrayed and forgotten. You suspected there was a part of him, a still human part, that was desperately seeking approval. Even if he covered it up.

Still, you dropped it. You could’ve told him that you were beginning to think he wasn’t so bad, but you didn’t want to risk boosting his ego. He was still a dick, you tried not to forget that.

After a few more hands, you were missing socks and pants—still keeping your bra, underwear, and shirt—and he was missing everything except a sock and boxers. You were sort of in the lead, but things were pretty tied up.

You gathered the cards up again and began to shuffle. “Why don’t we play gin rummy?” you suggested. You were getting a tad tired of the same game over and over.

“What? Why? We’ll keep playing this. Deal.”

You let out a huff, but gave in. You decided to just go ahead and deal.

“One last round,” you told him.

“Whatever,” he replied in a mutter, collecting his cards.

You two played and carried on a light conversation about random things. You weren’t really focused on playing truthfully, but you should’ve been. You lost the hand, meaning you had to lose something else. Soldier Boy seemed eagerly awaiting your decision, most likely assuming you’d take off your shirt. You’d already lost your socks and pants, so it seemed like a natural progression.

So, of course, you had to screw with him.

You reached under your shirt and unhooked your bra. You removed the straps through your sleeves and pulled it out from the bottom of your shirt.

“Oh, you’re killing me, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy said huskily under his breath.

You let out a small chuckle to yourself at his reaction. You let him suffer for another few seconds before announcing, “Alright, I’m bored.”

“What?” Soldier Boy furrowed his brows. “No, c’mon, keep playing,” he tried to convince you yet again.

“We’ve been playing for an hour and you refuse to learn any other game,” you argued back.

“I know how to play other games. I just prefer poker.” Soldier Boy frowned as you scraped together the card to put them back in the box. “What about a bet? One last game, winner takes all.”

You eyed him curiously, wondering where he was going with this. You’d let him convince you to play strip poker and that was already pushing it. “What kind of bet?”

Soldier Boy couldn’t bite back his grin and you had a feeling where he was going with this. “How about I win, you let me fuck you,” he stated casually. You scoffed. Of course he couldn’t help himself. He fully registered the bored I’m over it expression on your face, yet continued anyway. “And if you win, you let me fuck you and I’ll thank you for the privilege.”

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh in his face. “What kind of deal is that?” Your voice was dripping with amusement. It was actually kinda funny, the level of audacity and shamelessness he had. “No thanks, buddy.”

You moved to stand and heard Soldier Boy curse under his breath. “Fine, fine,” he said loudly, regaining your attention. If you could read people the way you thought, he seemed kinda desperate. It was almost comical. Then, his tone shifted. “I heard you earlier,” he said seriously. It threw you off. “That supe you want dead. Not Homelander, the other one. Personal to you.”

Tek Knight… Why was he bringing up that bastard?

“Heard you trying to slip him onto the list for me to take out,” Soldier Boy continued knowingly. “But your boss won’t let you.”

“Butcher isn’t my boss,” you corrected. It was the wrong thing to focus on, so you did something that was probably going to be very unadvised in hindsight. You heard Soldier Boy out.

“Whatever. Because I like you,”—you raised your brows at that and muttered an uh huh to yourself, because you didn’t really believe him—“you win and I’ll take him out.”

He was groveling, but damn him for figuring out something you wanted. You hated Homelander and pretty much all supes just like the rest of the boys, but also, like they all did, you had a grudge against a certain supe. Tek Knight was the reason Butcher found you. Before he even brought in Hughie, he had found you. Because Tek Knight had killed someone you loved.

Que the tragic backstory, right? You all had one. At one point you had believed the superheroes were heroes. That is, until you saw Tek Knight recklessly kill a bus with civilians in it—one of which was your best friend. Vought covered it up, blamed the criminals he’d been chasing, and praised the supe for his heroism. Needless to say, that changed your preconceptions of superheroes. Not long later, Butcher found you and took you under his wing. You bonded over your desire to kill the so-called heroes that had taken someone from each of you.

Except, Butcher was so determined to kill Homelander after what happened to Becca with Ryan that your need for revenge had been set on that back burner. And now here Soldier Boy was, offering you the only thing you really, really wanted. All you had to do was bet your dignity.

Could be worse, right?

“You in?” Soldier Boy asked, bringing you out of your thoughts and back to the moment. He was already grinning, like he knew your answer.

You returned to where you had been sitting across from him previously and smothered any last doubts you had. “Yeah,” you replied curtly.

That cocky smile of his only grew—it was probably the happiest you’d seen the man. He had a nice smile, but you knew his joy was because of your weakness.

You had to win, even if it was only to watch him lose and wipe that stupidly dazzling smile off his stupidly good looking face.

You didn’t trust him to shuffle, so you did. The stakes were high and you could already see the bulge in his boxers when he stood and scooted his chair closer. He was eager and ready to play—and more. You didn’t want to give him the chance to rig the game. You made an effort to avert your eyes as you dealt the cards out.

The cards in your hand weren’t the best, but they were good enough. Hopefully.

Maybe he wouldn’t be thinking with his upstairs brain, he already seemed incredibly impatient, which could work in your favor. Although, that didn’t seem likely since there was no chance either of you would fold. You pushed all the inner back-and-forth thoughts out of your head and tried to focus on the game. You put on your poker face and just hoped he had a worse hand.

You didn’t say much as you played. Neither did he. You avoided eye contact while he threw you a few looks here and there. There was an intensity to the game that hadn’t been there before. Probably because both of you had a good reason to win. At least, a self perceived good reason on Soldier Boy’s part. You thought yours was much more valid.

The game neared the end and it was time to show.

The moment of truth.

“Two pair,” you said, showing the cards that you had.

Soldier Boy let out a breath, which made you wonder if he had been holding one in. That wasn’t a good sign. He laid down his cards. “Full house,” he revealed.

Well fuck. You lost.

“Damn,” you muttered, but it overlapped with his voice.

“Oh fuck yes.” He sounded a little bit too enthused for your liking. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Take it as a compliment, sweetheart,” he commented smugly. “And don’t be a sore loser.”

“You sure got over Countess quick,” you mentioned in an off-handed tone just to mess with his head a little. “I thought you were still into her.”

He scoffed. “She was a bitch.”

“You called me a bitch earlier,” you pointed out.

“I call everyone a bitch.”

“You’re fucking confusing.”

“And you’re hot. I bet you’re a good fuck,” he countered with lascivious tone.

“You’re gross.” You were somehow still taken aback by his crassness even though you should’ve been used to it by now.

“What, you want me to tell you I’m into you?” He said it like it was offensive. “Like actually? Fine, I am. Big fucking deal,” he dismissed. “Now I won, get your ass over here. I’m not gonna fall for whatever mind games you’re playing.”

You could’ve told him no. You should’ve told him no right away. But damn, you couldn’t help but wonder. You couldn’t deny that Soldier Boy was attractive and from the view you got when he stood, you knew he was… large. Yeah, you should be saying no. What were you thinking?

Well, you were thinking you perhaps you did want to fuck him.

That was the truth even though it shouldn’t have been. You admitted that to yourself.

So, keeping with your end of the deal (because you planned to use the bet to justify all future actions to yourself), you stood from your chair. Soldier Boy was running his hands over his thighs when you moved towards him. He just couldn’t wait to touch you. He could hardly contain his excitement.

He pushed back from the table to make room. When you were within reach, his large, firm hands grabbed at you. Soldier Boy pulled you into his lap with a chuckle.

“Hi there,” you greeted in a sarcastic tone when you came face to face with him.

“Hey, darling,” he replied smoothly. Soldier Boy leaned in to kiss you, but you turned your head slightly. You weren’t sure why, you just did it. He scoffed a little, seemingly disappointed. “What—you’re not gonna let me kiss you?”

You eyed him curiously. “Why is that something you want?”

He shrugged a little. “I’m old fashioned.” He leaned in again and you didn’t turn away. “And it wasn’t a lie when I said I liked you,” he admitted under his breath before capturing your lips.

For a guy that hadn’t been in action for a few decades, Soldier Boy was a surprisingly good kisser. His lips were soft and plump, and moved expertly against yours.

When he pulled away, you were left slightly breathless. That seemed to fuel his ego because when he looked at you, a smirk appeared on his lips.

“Maybe we can both be winners,” Soldier Boy decided smugly. You became aware of his hand creeping along your hip. His fingers grazed your skin and then his hand made its way into the front of your underwear.

A spark of pleasure and even excitement shot through you when his thick fingers found what they were looking for.

Soldier Boy let out a deep, content hum when he brushed against your folds. You were already getting wet for him due to anticipation. He pressed one finger into your entrance and you bit back a gasp. Your body welcomed him, which made him chuckle.

You were waiting for some snarky comment, but at the moment he didn’t have one. Soldier Boy was far too focused on getting you ready for him to think of something. He rocked his hips, grinding his hard cock against your thigh as he pushed another finger into you. He moved them expertly, it should’ve been surprising how much care he was taking to elicit pleasure from you. However, you were far too distracted by the feeling of his thick fingers thrusting and curling inside of you to analyze him.

His thumb found your clit and you moaned, writing in his lap. Soldier Boy watched you, lips slightly parted, breaths heavy. His cock was achingly hard—you could feel it against you.

You felt a familiar knot in your belly form due to his motions.

“That’s it,” he said heatedly, feeling your walls begin to tighten around him. “You feel so fucking good. Can’t wait to be inside of you. Want you to come on my fingers first, though.”

His voice did something to you. You shouldn’t have liked it so much, but it was deep and rich and fuck, it was hot. As your eyes scanned his lust blown face, you saw something else. You couldn’t quite place it.

Your body tensed and as he perfectly moved his thumb and fingers in sync, you knew he was going to get what you wanted.

You fell against him when you started to quiver, the pleasure becoming all-consuming. Soldier Boy welcomed you against his firm body.

“For a girl that hates me you’re squeezing my fingers real fucking tight,” he grunted out against your ear.

Barely another second passed before your orgasm crashed over you in a wave. You pressed your lips together to conceal a dizzy moan, but it broke free.

You rode through the aftershocks on his fingers, catching your breath with your head on his shoulder.

When you finally came to your senses, his words rang in your head. “I don’t hate you,” you clarified in a murmur.

You sat up in his lap, head hazy with pleasure and trying to catch your breath, as he withdrew his hand from your underwear. Soldier Boy stared at you, scanning your face with an odd desperation you finally recognized. You meant it and he realized that.

You were yanked from your pleasured daze when his large hands gripped under your thighs.. In a swift motion, Soldier Boy lifted you. He stood as well and suddenly, you were lying with your back on the table, staring up at his lust blown emerald eyes.

His hands flew across your body, ridding you of your last pieces of clothing. Once you were exposed beneath him, Soldier Boy rid himself of his own clothes.

The two of you were completely naked, eyes scanning over each other's bodies. He pulled you to the end of the table and positioned himself between your legs.

Everything moved in an adrenaline filled blur.

There was very little time to prepare yourself as he planted a hand near your head and used the other to grab his cock. You briefly felt him line himself up to your entrance. Then, he was pushing into you. A gasping moan that surprised you both slipped from your lips as he filled you.

You had gotten a glimpse and knew he was big, but that had done nothing to prepare you for the stretch of his thick cock inside of you. There was a twinge of pain laced with the pleasure and it made you quiver around him.

A deep groan came from above. His eyes had fluttered shut. His hand slapped to grab your waist. His fingers flexed and dug into your skin.

“Fuck,” Soldier Boy cursed under his breath.

His cock throbbed inside of you and you could tell he needed a moment. You had to give him credit for maintaining some level of self control given how long it had been for him.

Except, you were getting impatient. In a bold move, you wrapped your legs around his waist encouragingly. Then, you raised your arms to grasp his face in your hands. You pulled him down into a passionate kiss, which he gladly responded to. He pulled back his hips a little, then thrust forward. You gasped against him and he smiled.

He straightened then, moving both hands to your hips. You braced yourself as he withdrew again, fully this time, then shoved forward.

It took a few experimental thrusts before he set a pace, but when he did you could do nothing but lay there and take everything he gave you.

You weren’t sure what you previously thought fucking him would be like, but damn it was good.

Soldier Boy knew what he was doing. He pounded into you hard and fast, forcing pleasure through your body. He was panting above you, then leaning down to press sloppy kisses to your body. His beard scratched against your skin, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was his cock filling you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Soldier Boy cursed and muttered the praise. His husky voice cascaded over you. You didn’t reply, but he seemed pleased with the fact that you couldn’t. You were doing everything in your power to not let out embarrassingly loud noises.

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with panting breaths from you both.

He brought his hand down and pressed his thumb against your clit. Soldier Boy flicked his eyes up to you, watching your face contort in further ecstasy.

He was fervorous, putting everything he had into fucking you. It was going to be quick, he couldn’t hold back much longer,, but he wanted you to come with him.

He kept up his motions, pounding into you, filling you over and over again.

You grasped at his back suddenly, digging your nails in as your body tensed and the knot in your belly exploded. Soldier Boy groaned loudly as your body tensed and shivered around him. You couldn't hold back your moan that time.

That sent him spiraling into his own release.

One, two, three—Soldier Boy slammed into you a final time. You felt his cock twitch. He shuttered above you. Then, he was spilling inside of you. You should’ve stopped him, but you wanted to feel him fill you up.

Soldier Boy let out a heavy exhale and practically collapsed on top of you. He nestled his head into your neck, nose brushing against your ear. The feel of his cock stuffing you full, his come dripping down your thigh, and the weight of his body was all consuming. You couldn’t deny that you loved the feeling.

You ran your hands across his muscular back, listening to his heavy breathing in your ear and his heart pounding from the exertion.

There were no words spoken between you two for several moments as you each caught your breath.

“I’ll take him out,” Soldier Boy muttered into your neck, catching you off guard. It took you a second to register his words, but when you did, you turned your head to look at him. Just in tandem with him to lift himself to hover over you. He planted his hands steady to hold himself up. Your noses were only a few inches apart and you could feel light puffs of breath coming from him against your face.

“What?” you couldn’t help but ask, stunned and wanting to be sure you heard him right.

“That supe you hate,” he clarified. “I’ll kill him for you.” Soldier Boy raised his hand and brushed a few strands of hair back from your face. “If that’s what you want.”

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you told him, nodding slightly. “I want you to.”

“Alright then,” he confirmed with uncharacteristically tranquil demeanor. Seeing a gentle, oddly caring smile instead of a sleazy smirk on his face threw you off.

You thought Soldier Boy was going to lean down to kiss you—he looked like he wanted to—but something caught his attention. He lifted his head towards the door.

That’s when you heard it. The door knob rattled..

A devious grin crossed Soldier Boy’s face. It suited him better than the previous expression.

“Oh shit,” you cursed, knowing what was about to happen and that you couldn’t prevent it.

You turned your head towards the door, just in time to see Butcher and Hughie walking back in.

#quin-ns writing #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy #the boys #the boys season 3 #jensen ackles #the boys x reader #soldier boy smut #the boys smut #jensen ackles x reader

[fireflysymphony]

Aventurine w a fem! bodyguard reader smut... 👀

Aventurine x fem! bodyguard reader

MDNI 18+ content ahead

A/N: thank you for the request! I really like the concept. I wrote it as a mix of headcanons and a quick drabble at the end. I hope you enjoy it <3

Word count: 2.7k

Content warning: Fem! Reader, slight exhibitionism, pet names, fingering, teasing, praise, needy lovestruck Aventurine, slight degradation, slight begging (on his end), pretty soft sex, Aventurine’s daddy kink strikes again, I have a lack of gun knowledge but just roll with it, not proofread

Headcanons

Let me make this really clear: HE’S not the one who needs protection right now; it’s YOU.

The second he met you he was sizing you up with that cute little smirk of his, making it pretty obvious that all professionalism was lost the very moment he saw such a pretty number was working for him.

You should have run then.

What was the IPC thinking when they hired you for this? Is this some type of wrath from the Aeons? What did you do to deserve this punishment?

From the very beginning, he’s a pain to deal with, but you don’t have the authority to talk back, only giving him tight smiles and apologetic words. He knows this and takes full advantage of the situation.

“Y’know, princess, if you’re going to be with me all the time, shouldn’t I have a prettier view? I don’t like having to leave everything up to the imagination. Do you think red or blue is more your color? Ah~ I’ll buy both.” And you’re sitting there seething as he taps away on his phone, seemingly oblivious to your displeasure. Was he just joking? What was he doing?

The VERY next day you see Aventurine holding up not one but two skin tight dresses with fabric only hiding your more intimate areas. It was more like lingerie than a dress like something you’d see on a stripper.

He evidently wasn’t just teasing you.

As politely as you could, you told him it would hinder your fighting ability if anyone were to attack, so you absolutely couldn’t wear it. He made some futile comment about how he’d love to see you try so he could get a peek up your skirt to, you know, “negate the traumatizing experience of him being attacked.”

In the end, you won the argument, and Aventurine threw a tantrum, muttering something about giving them to a woman who’d actually appreciate a gift like that. You told him straight to his face that he should just give it to the many women he brought to bed each night then.

The surprised and hurt look on his face will forever be carved into your memory.

After that, he actively stopped calling you by his nicknames which, deep inside, you missed, or it might just be the guilt of seeing his usually inalterable flirtatious self turn into a sad kicked puppy of a man. You held onto your pride though and forced yourself to bite back any apology or reconsiderations of his request you may have had. The man should have known your job was on the line, and his insensitive acts of fickle flirtation could not sway you.

The very next day he was up to his usual antics, and you got the impression that he only seemed upset to try to guilt you. Asshole. It only made you more upset with him. Did he like playing with your emotions?

Did I mention he loves it when you say his name? Sometimes he’ll ignore your presence just to hear you say “Mr. Aventurine? Boss?! Sir, I’m talking to you.” In your signature annoyed tone. It makes his heart melt. The only thing he can think of is imagining how your little pants and sighs of his name sound while he’s on top of you. How would you sound if you weren’t constantly annoyed at him? If he brought you pleasure?

Honestly, he was whipped for you from day one, and his actions might sound annoying and overly flirtatious, but that’s just how he shows love.

I could tell you so many things that this man has done for your attention, but that’d probably be the length of the Holy Bible. There are so many places this could go, but I think this instance of his sticks out the most amongst many akin to it.

—

You were used to casinos at this point. The loud blaring sounds of people playing the slot machines and thick, suffocating smell of alcohol were background sensations at this point. You couldn’t even bother to give them a second thought, not when a gun was pointed at the man you were supposed to be protecting. Safe to say the poker game was ruined. Champagne soiled the cards, shards of glass from the glasses littered the floor and table, and Aventurine, stupid Aventurine, had his hands raised in the air, his signature smirk pointed at the assailant like his own brand of deadly weapon.

“Hey, hey, now. This isn’t the place to have one of those, is it? Look, you ruined the cards!” Adventurine laughed, making a circling motion with his hand as if trying to gesture to the table of cards which were now soaked a yellowish brown color. Your hand rested on your gun, ready to fire at any sign of him about to pull the trigger. “Can’t we talk this out? I’m sure with a little persuasion you be happy to hand over-“

Your pistol fired later than his. Shit.

All that registered in your mind was the crying of two men, and Aventurine hunched over with a pained expression as he gripped his stomach. You were trained for this, but in your state of panic, you ran to him instead of making sure the attacker was dead. You scooped him up, struggling to carry him with your gun pointed at the now surrounded shooter while retreating from the casino. You wished you could make sure he was dead, but attending to Aventurine’s injuries were your first priority.

“You idiot. I told you to stop provoking people and look where we are!” You scolded him, Aventurine now quiet and clinging to your shoulders. You were too panicked to question his unusual behavior after just being shot in the stomach. “..If you’re worried, you won’t die. I got you.”

“I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me, Princess.” He laughed, setting his chin on your shoulder. Sensing something was off, you turned down an alleyway and skidded to a stop. He wasn’t screaming in pain nor were his cheeks stained with tears, even the adrenaline wouldn’t keep him from crying out, right? “I’m surprised it took you this long to catch on. No, I’m not-“

Before he could finish his sentence, you dropped him to the ground before crouching down and lifting his shirt up. No wounds in sight.

“Getting rather intimate, aren’t we? You should give me the chance to do this to you.”

“Shut up! What did you do, Aventurine?!” You demanded, yanking his shirt back down before leaning back on your haunches. He looked satisfied with himself as he shuffled to lean against the alley wall. His hat and glasses were gone, probably from the scuffle. He’d have her go get them later.

“Uh-uh, remember who you’re talking to, beautiful.” He smiled, running his hand through his hair and covering his right eye, the other one illuminating his face well enough to be able to see his features in the darkness. “But since you haven’t figured it out, I simply hired someone to shoot me with a blank which, by the way, hurt like a bitch still. I might still need you to kiss my booboo.”

He saw you were about to open your mouth again and placed a finger to your lips, shushing you. “And before you ask: I replaced your bullets with blanks too, so you didn’t shoot an innocent man. I’m not that cruel.”

“You’re cruel to me.” You murmured, knocking his hand away from your face. He smiled and gave you a little shrug, just like a mischievous toddler who was proud when he colored on the walls. “You're impossible. I can’t believe I was actually worried for your life!”

“Worried? I make crazy bets all the time, princess. Gambling my life is no strange feat to me, you should know this.” He smiled again, this time actually touching your lips with the tip of his finger. Your lips parted, the fabric of his gloves sending you spinning. How soft were his actual fingers? What did they look like under those gloves? Were they long, slender, and delicate, or did they have some edge to them, all calloused and rugged? You imagined the former; Aventurine didn’t do much. “But, I have a pretty good hand right now. I bet you won’t stop me from playing it and showing you my cards.”

“But you’re gambling with my feelings too. That’s different. I don’t like being used.” You steadied yourself against the wall, trying to rid your mind of thoughts about his hands. Wait, when did he get so close? You were backed against the wall now, Aventurine caging you there with his lanky form.

“And I’ll make it up to you, just relax, babydoll. I just needed to be close to you. I couldn’t take it anymore.” He placed his forehead against yours, squeezing his eyes shut. His hand fit perfectly with her cheek as if their bodies were crafted for each other. You weren’t so sure, but the way you were feeling right now wasn’t professional.

“Let me take care of you instead for a chance.” He left featherlight kisses on your forehead, trailing down the side of your face. Each kiss grew longer than the last, his lips unable to pull away from you. He cupped both of your cheeks, his lips nearly touching yours as he spoke. “You aren’t pushing me away. I did all this for a moment alone with you, away from prying eyes. Now the IPC can’t punish you if you indulge a little. Please, pretty girl, let me have this. Let me have you.”

You shuddered from his warm breath on your mouth, months of his teasing and antics festering inside you. Defeat was so easy in this moment, the taste of another person’s lips a fleeting memory ever since you got this job. His constant advances would only get worse the more you rejected him. Aventurine always got what he was due. Always. Whatever it be you warming his bed one night or taking you in the back of an alleyway, he’d get it. Deep down, you loved being chased, but now the hunter finally cornered its prey.

“Not again. Never again after this, okay? One time so you make it fucking count.” You grabbed him by his shirt collar, smashing your lips against his, the taste of champagne filling your mouth. He knew what he was doing and held the back of your head, tangling his fingers with your hair. Your actions caught him off guard though; he prepared for the crushing reality of you pushing him away, but you didn’t. Now he just needed to act like he knew you wouldn’t all along.

The softness of his lips lulled you into a daze, your hands aching from how tight you held onto him. Each time he pulled back for a breath, you didn’t give him much time to rest before your lips were on his again, asking for more which he provided with no hesitance. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, taking the delicate flesh between his teeth and playing with it before letting his tongue mold into yours.

“Someone’s a little needy. I could tell by the way you act that you’re pent up, but this is bad.” He fully pulled away with his face flushed, binding your wrists together and holding them above your head with one hand. He left open mouthed kisses down your neck to your chest. Not bothering to waste anymore time, he used his teeth to free your chest from the buttons of your blouse. “Fucking me in an alleyway like this? You must have wanted me from the beginning. Please say you’ve always wanted me, pretty girl. Please… please… fromday one, I’ve always needed you…”

He pulled down your bra with his teeth, kissing and sucking at your breasts with a hunger similar to that of a starving man. His tongue flicked over your delicate buds, moaning at the feeling of your warmth in his mouth. You were starting to think he was right. He acted like he really did need you. As you saw him buried in your chest, eyes filled with lust and desire, all your second thoughts faded to dust.

“Mr. Aventurine…” You tugged on his hair, blond locks soft as the finest silk. Of course he was soft and so delicate; he felt like he could break with one wrong move from you. How was he so torturous and annoying yet the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?

Aventurine’s heart stopped at the sound of your whiny cry of his name. The sound he’s been craving was more beautiful than he could have ever thought.

“I got you, my princess. You’re so beautiful, so fucking gorgeous.” He held up his free hand to his lips, biting at the fabric a few times before getting a hold of the glove and slowly pulling it off. He kept eye contact with you as he did, giving you the impression he was trying to be seductive about it. Before you could say anything about it though, he was already back to your body, hands roaming down to the waistband of your pants.

Within moments, your pants and undergarments were bunched at your knees, and Aventurine got straight to abusing your clit, your already slick folds acting as the perfect lube. “You’re so wet for me. What a naughty, naughty girl you are. So bad, you couldn't hold back that professional facade for long. Were your panties always dripping when you got home? Did you touch yourself and think about me doing this? What a fucking slut.”

He chuckled and collected the slick before shoving a single finger into you, letting out a louder moan than you. He loved the way you felt around him, how tight you were squeezing just one finger. “Fuck… so tight. Can you even take another?” He managed to get another finger into you, stretching you out as he twisted deeper inside of you. He worked at a slow pace while also kissing your neck and chest, selfishly leaving marks in his wake. Eventually, he sped up, losing himself as he pounded into you with another finger.

Your body convulsed, hiccuping in pleasure. “Fuck! Fuck! S-sir-! Shit, I’m gonna- gonna...” You leaned your head on his shoulder, biting down hard to silence your moans and other noises. What had been but five minutes, and you were already falling apart.

“So fast and easy. Cum then, you fucking whore, cum all over daddy’s fingers.” He demanded, slamming his fingers deeper inside of you. You threw your head back, crying out profanities you hope nobody passing by heard. Your walls clenched around him, a wave of pleasure crashing through your body as you coated his fingers in your pleasure.

“There you go, just like that. You feel so good squeezing my fingers like that, good girl.” He pulled out of you after helping you come down from your high, his long, slender fingers covered in your release. He didn’t waste any time in getting rid of the evidence, moaning at your taste as he licked himself clean. “So good, I love you…”

He hoped you didn’t hear that last part, biting his lip to silence the words he just spoke. Thankfully, you looked too dazed to care. If you brought it up later, he’d tease you until you didn’t think it happened.

He let go of your wrists and embraced you, cradling your head against his chest and letting you put yourself back together. He kissed your forehead, mumbling any praises he could think of in your ear. He wanted to savor this moment because in a few minutes, he knew he’d be pushed away again. No matter how good he made you feel; you’d make it clear to him that you’d never fall for one of his traps again. That’s just the woman you were, and he didn’t make bets he knew he couldn’t win.

A/N: this kinda got out of hand, and Aventurine bangs his bodyguard turned into Aventurine becomes a menace (again). If anyone likes this, I’d be happy to make a part two with more detail on how they got together. I apologize to the requester if this isn’t what you had in mind, but I still hope you enjoyed it! <3

Requests are open!

#hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #hsr x reader smut #hsr smut #star rail aventurine #aventurine x reader smut #aventurine smut #aventurine x reader #aventurine honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader smut #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #smut #18+ mdni #mdni

[xyziiix]

𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐑 - 𝐉.𝐏 𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓

Captain John Price X Female!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (P in V, fingering, spit kink - Price spitting in readers mouth 🫣, unprotected sex, hints of a breeding kink?) PRICE IS A NASTY MF - implied secret relationship, language, mention of violence, mentions of guns, description of bullet wound, hint at Ghost being a peeping Tom @ the end, reader is described as a woman!!!!

Small summary: after a mission not going as smooth as planned, yourself and the boys had no choice but to hunker down in a safe house while you stitch up Soap - him taking a nasty bullet wound to the thigh - the heat is overwhelming and anticipation bubbling as you weren’t sure if you were entirely safe, the only thing that could take your mind off of it was your Captain’s lingering eyes, promiscuous and completely unprofessional thoughts racing through his mind about you.

!not proof read!

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Sergeant Mactavish exclaims, his head thrown back as a pained groan rumbles from his chest - his accent thicker as he complains.

“Hold still, Soap.” You reply - your voice coming out stern as you focus on pulling the bullet out of his thigh, your breath wavering as you tried to concentrate - pushing away the panic and anxiety you were feeling at seeing your friend injured. Luckily, the bullet hadn’t gone deep - and as far as you could tell - it hadn’t hit an artery. “Almost out.” You added, trying to get him to calm down.

“Stay calm, Sergeant.” A low - gravelly voice filled the clouded room, your Captain stood behind the groaning Scot, a hand placed on his shoulder to ground him as well as keep him still in order for you to work easier.

The house you were holed up in - though you could barely call it a house - was in the butt-fuck middle of nowhere - not another sign of life in sight as all that surrounded you was sand and heat. The scorching sun blared through the single glass-pane window, lighting the room enough to your satisfaction - and if you looked over to the ray of sun, you could actually see the abundance of dust floating in the air. It was safe to say you were surprised when you learned this was a marked safe house and not some deserted shack in the middle of the urzikstan desert.

You were kneeled on the chalky ground, your knees aching from the concrete floor as Soap sat above you in the rickety chair, the furniture groaning in protest at the agitated soldiers weight. You hands worked fast - managing to remove the bullet from the surface of his flesh and immediately going to disinfect it.

“Shite!” He hissed, the wound burning as you pressed a antisept-soaked cotton pad to the open area, cutting him an apologetic look as his neck strained - teeth bared at the stinging pain shooting through his nerves.

After a few minutes of you working swiftly and silently - save for the few ‘sorry’s’ when you see the Sergeant wince when you push the needle through his flesh in order to close the wound - you managed to successfully stitch him up, sighing as you lean back slightly, the strain in your back and the cramp in your hands pushed aside as you observe your work - wanting to be extra sure your teammate was taken care of. After wrapping gauze around his thigh, Gaz and Ghost move over to Soap - wrapping his arms around their shoulders as they guide him to stand.

“You go and lie down, okay? You need to rest that leg so you don’t tear the stitches.” You order softly, rising to your feet - feeling your knees pop from the benumbed feeling of kneeling for so long.

“Aye.” Johnny grunts, exhaustion taking over his usually lively self as he looks to you, “I owe you big time, lass.” He says gratefully, casting you an appreciative and tired smile before he’s moving out of the room with the other two - Ghost mumbling something to about not being so reckless, his cold demeanour failing to mask his genuine worry for Soap.

You let out groan of relief as you take a seat at the rustic table, your whole body aching as you tried to relax as best as you could in the beaten down chair.

“You alright, love?” Price asks you - and for a moment, you’d forgotten he was still in the room with you - stood over by the window he’d pried open, a cigar in his hand as he looked over to you. He’d barely spoken a word since the mission had gone south, and as much as you wanted to ask if he was okay, you knew it was best not to pry for the moment - understanding that a lot of stress and emotions were weighed on his shoulders.

“Yeah.” You responded, a hand coming to rub and knead at the back of your neck - attempting to unwind the knot that has formed there. You felt uncomfortably warm, having removed your vest a while ago - leaving you in a simple tank top, though it did little to relieve your skin - the air almost impossibly humid.

Price surveyed you, bringing the thick cigar to his lips, relishing in the smoke burning his throat and lungs as he took you in. A light sheen of perspiration was layered on your skin - collecting between your breasts that gave the illusion that your skin was glowing, your once-neat updo having loosened, your hair falling more loosely and wild, and stray, defiant strands of hair stuck to your damp skin. Price had been silently replaying the events of before in his head - what he could’ve done to prevent it; to prevent Soap getting shot, and to prevent you being put in danger. But, seeing you now - looking as ravishing as you did, helped to take his mind away from his own self-doubt for a beat.

You reluctantly stood, having looked at the scattered medical supplies on the table and floor long enough - hoping that if you glared at it hard enough it would magically be cleaned up and put back to where it was supposed to be. You began slowly picking up pieces of gauze, rolls of surgical suture and various other supplies before placing them back into the first aid box, lost in your own thoughts as you stayed contently silent.

You felt his presence before he reached for you, he smells of ash, and a lingering acrid taste of a cigar burns your tongue. His aura is intrusive, but it’s never uncomfortable. Two calloused, large hands place themselves on the outside of your arms, pressing his hard body to yours - his chest to your back as his familiar, warm lips press onto the heated skin of your neck - the juncture of where your neck and shoulder meets.

“John…” you breathe, eyes flickering over to the open doorway - painfully reminded that you weren’t alone in the house, and if either of your teammates walked in, the first thing they would see is how your Captain is practically trapping your body to the dust-covered table with his own.

“Hm?” He hums back to you, the vibrations crawling from his chest and settling into the sensitive skin of your neck. He was doing it on purpose. Acting nonchalant about the compromising position that you could be caught red-handed in at any moment. “I love hearin’ y’say my name.” He murmurs against your skin, one of his sizeable hands placing itself on your midsection - effectively pushing you back and closer to him, also chipping away at your resolve as you fought back to not sink into the feeling of him. Your skin grew impossibly hotter, the weak feeling in your thighs becoming known as you were silently glad you were being held up between the table and John - certain your already exhausted legs would collapse - you had to stifle a gasp when you felt the light graze of teeth under your jaw, the wiry stubble of his goatee scratching across your delicate skin - your Captain continued his onslaught on your neck, nearly groaning at the taste of salt on your skin.

“They could catch us.” You remind him, breathlessly.

“They could.” He agrees, though he made no move to step away from you.

It was a dangerous game you were both playing. It’s not important how your dalliance with your Captain started - it being a long story of what started as lingering looks and intrusive thoughts as you distantly admired one another - knowing the consequences of what would happen if you were to act on your feelings. You could lose your job, and John would be punished greater than you - being kicked off the team and risking being stripped of his rank. Yet, it seemed he cared little for the consequences when one night - he’d shown up to your room in the barracks, telling you that you both needed to talk - a long overdue conversation - which actually led to him fucking you senseless on your single bed. You both agreed afterwards that you needed to keep whatever this was quiet - John promising you he’d find a way to make it not result in backlash when others learned about your relationship, and in the last few months - you were both in your own content little bubble outside of work, spending most of your time from deployment with him in his apartment in London.

Panic flashes across your face as you hear footsteps descending the stairs, each step groaning and creaking from heavy combat boots, Price then stepped away from you - going back to his place by the window to resume smoking his cigar, acting as if he hadn’t just left you a flustered mess. Gaz was who appeared, not taking any notice of the red dusting your cheeks and the nonplus stature you had while you remained stood by the table.

“He’s passed out.” Gaz interjected the atmosphere - unaware of the previous state you and the Captain were in, Price nodded briefly at Garrick, the end of his cigar burning orange embers for a second as he took a pull of the smoke. You also nodded at his words - shaking yourself out of it as your unsteady hands moved to close the first aid box. Gaz took a seat at the table - the seat previously occupied by Soap - as another set of heavier footsteps came down the staircase, the skull faced Lieutenant appearing, silent as he joined the table. You glanced over to Price, who casually watched out of the window. “It’s bloody boiling in here.” Garrick comments, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Ghost lets out a grumble of agreement, a gloved hand readjusting his mask slightly. You busy yourself, now having regained your composure as you silently took the box in your hands - walking out of the room to go and put it back with the other supplies. Price’s cerulean eyes flicking over to you, watching you leave the room.

It was a few hours later, daylight had burned and it grew darker. The air finally getting cooler and giving your body some relief. You had just finished checking up on Soap - him finally feeling more like himself, joking and putting on his charm as usual. It was a relief to see him act like himself, as well as that his wound hadn’t shown any signs of infection. The stairs creaked under your feet as you left Johnny to rest and descended to the ground floor. Glancing into the living room to see Gaz had made himself comfortable on the worn down sofa, and was already passed out. Simon was no where to be seen - and you guessed he was either outside on watch or he’d just found himself a private area for the night, understanding that he prefers his own company sometimes.

You snatched a pillow from the armchair in the living room - unfortunately, the only bed that was actually inhabitable; was occupied by an injured Soap. You would’ve slept in the living room, but Gaz’s snoring was already doing your head in. You moved to the more open room - where the flimsy dining table was. You went to the other end of the room, laying the pillow on the hard ground and lying down. The pillow gave your head some relief, but the hardwood floor dug unmercifully into your already aching back.

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling, observing the parts where the paint had chipped. You laid there for a moment, hands resting on your stomach as you enjoyed the peace and quiet - yet it also put you on edge; you could hear a pin drop it was that silent.

You decided to shut your eyes, disappointed to feel not even an ounce of sleep behind your eyes, you let out another frustrated sigh - scrunching your brows as you tried to will yourself to get some rest.

When you heard the quiet shuffling of boots moving towards you, your breath slowed - already knowing who it was as you felt him settle on the ground beside you, a strong arm slithering around your stomach and gently pulled you to him until your back met his hard chest.

“What are you doing?” You asked, your voice sounding stern - though, you could both hear the smile in it.

“Wha’s it look like i’m doin’?” Price asked rhetorically, his voice low and gravelly - his accent mixing his words to a perfect melody as it vibrated against your ear. You felt his stubble prickling the back of your neck as he placed a single, wet kiss there - a shiver rolling down your spine.

“Not here.” You sighed reluctantly, even having him lay next to you was risky - as well as that it was effectively arousing you like a bitch in heat. It’s been so long - too long - since you’d felt him, having been on this mission for weeks now and not having an ounce of privacy between you.

“Was only wantin’ a cuddle, love.” He responded with a raspy chuckle, his voice having a teasing edge to it as his arm flexed around your torso slightly - pulling you closer to him until there was practically no space between your bodies. “-unless…” he trailed off, his arm around your torso slowly moving south, his fingers dancing along the slit of exposed skin where your top ended and your pants begun.

“They’ll hear us.” You say, your voice growing breathless as you tried to remind him - as well as yourself - looking down to try and watch his fingers in the dark - only being able to make out darker shapes as you felt his finger tease under the waistband of your pants - trailing along the sensitive skin of you abdomen.

“We’ll be quiet.” He says, his liquid voice soothing you as he nestles his head in the crook of your neck - also looking down to watch his hands work as they slowly begin to pop the buttons of your pants open.

You don’t reply, breath bated as you feel your pants grow loose on your hips and leisurely pushed down to your thighs - feeling your skin being exposed to the air.

He lets out a hum against your neck, adjusting his head to softy suck at the thin skin of your jugular - feeling your breath hitch as his warm, large hand slides further down, slipping under the cotton fabric of your underwear and cupping your pussy, feeling how hot, puffy and slick you were under his palm.

“Oh, sweetheart..” He groaned, his voice barely above a whisper as he leans more over you to get a better look at your face, a smug smirk pulling his lips and goatee up as his hand wedges itself between your closed thighs - flexing his wrist to essentially grind his hand against your neglected cunt. “How long ya been like this? All wet for me?” He asked lowly - though he knew you were too focused on not crying out to answer him. His pride grew as he felt your hips begin to rock on their own accord, grinding into his palm as well as brushing your arse against his clothed cock. “Soaked… and I haven’t even put my fingers in you yet.” He practically growls against your neck - his voice reverberating through your entire body, his touch feeling electric.

“John…” you breathe a quiet whine, and he feels his chest swell as he could already hear the pleading edge in your voice, his cock throbbing in the confines of his pants.

“Tell me to stop.” He breathes, his hand pressing up against you - feeling your slick stick to his palm. He let out a low, gravelly breath as he felt how hot and wet you were. He doesn’t wait for you to respond - because he knows you won’t. He knows you won’t tell him to stop.

And you know it too.

You hear the metal of his zipper being pulled, the noise joining the soundtrack of your heavy breathing. The hand still buried inside of your underwear shifts, spreading your slick over your puffy clit, sending small jolts through your body. When you hear a quiet, strangled groan from behind you, you turn to look over your shoulder.

Price was still laying on his side behind you, his pants being pulled down enough so that his cock was free. You watched in awe as he slowly fisted his dick, pumping himself languidly as his other hand was still buried inside of your underwear - a calloused thumb circling your bud of nerves while you felt two of his thick fingers tease at your quivering, drooling entrance.

You thankfully didn’t need to whine and beg - mostly because John was growing just as desperate as you were. His thick fingers sank into you, stretching you more than your own fingers could, you let out a soft hiss as your hips squirmed a little.

“Be quiet.” Price orders, his tone authoritative yet dripping with lust, he began slowly dragging his fingers in an out of you - scissoring you open to get you ready for his cock. His chin rested on your shoulder again as he watched you squirm and bite your lip in an attempt to keep quiet, his voice a breath of air against your ear - “so fuckin’ tight.”

His other hand released its hold on his cock, lifting to cup your jaw and turn you to face him. He pried your bottom lip from under your teeth with his thumb before he planted his lips on yours - letting out a long exhale through his nose as he relished the taste of you. His fingers moving a little faster as your quiet noises fell onto his tongue.

He pulled back a moment later, his face hovering above yours. You could only just see his face in the dark, his lips parted as he took in your expression.

“Open.”

Like the good girl you were, you did as you were told, your lips parting and your tongue peeking out invitingly. He let out a small groan of approval before he spat into your mouth. You took what he gave you, whimpering a little as you swallowed. His fingers pulled out of you then, leaving you feeling empty. A protest was on the tip of your tongue before you felt him use his booted foot to push your pants the rest of the way down your legs, and you quickly kicked them off your ankles, the sound of fabric hitting the floor filling the room for a beat.

One of his thighs wriggled between your legs, pushing your legs open as he melded against you. Wasting no time in gathering your slick with the flushed tip of his cock before he pushed into you. Pressing your lips together again as you both groaned from the stretch of his cock slowly filling you.

“So fuckin’ tight…” he groaned again, his voice barely above a whisper as his head fell onto your shoulder - his cock throbbing between your hot, constricting walls. “Like you were made for me, love.” He added with a breathless chuckle, slowly rocking his hips until he was fully buried into you.

“John-“ you gasped as he bottomed out, your body already writhing beside him, your chest rising and falling with shallower breaths.

At the sound of your noises unintentionally upping in volume, his free hand came to clasp around your mouth - muffling the little whimpers threatening to escape. “I know…” he cooed against your ear in a whisper. “Got to be quiet for me sweetheart, don’t want to others to catch us — to catch me filling you up like this.” He breathed, his own breathing quickening as he began to rock his hips in hard, shallow thrusts.

The moan that escaped was trapped into his palm, your legs already quivering as his cock dragged against every spot inside of you it seemed only he could find. You weakly rocked back against him, hearing his hot breath fan against your ear as it seemed he was also trying to stay quiet.

“Not gonna last long, love.” He says honestly. You too were already feeling the beginnings of shock waves indicating an incoming orgasm. It’d been such a long few weeks since he’d been able to fuck you. “Need you to come around my cock before I can fill you up.” He growls, the hand not muffling your mouth reached down to fan across your clit - your body immediately tensing, your cunt practically strangling his cock.

His pelvis kept hitting your arse in slow but hard thrusts, rocking your body with him as his chest remained glued to your back. One of his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt while the other was down to where you were joined together - touching your clit in tight circles. His face pressed into your neck, his goatee burning your skin deliciously. Your teeth trapped your bottom lip between them - forcing yourself to muffle your noses - almost to the point you could taste copper in your mouth.

It felt like the knot in your stomach was tightening by the minute, your body shuddering and your thighs tensing as they were forced open by his own muscled thighs.

“M’gonna come-“ you moan quietly, spurring him on as he let a low groan into your neck. He picked up his pace a little, nearly rolling you onto the side with the force of his thrusts, his fingers began smacking tapping at your throbbing clit, his cock piercing you open as his thrust grow sloppy. His hot tongue laved over the think skin of your neck - the sensitive spot just under your neck that he knew would have you trembling.

About several seconds later it happened. Your abdomen coiling taught as you felt heat and desire crash through you, your lips parting in a silent moan as you stiffened for a moment - your pussy quivering around him as you came.

He continued to fuck you through it, his eyes glued to your face as he watched your expression contort with euphoria. He let out a low and breathy groan when he felt you tighten around him. “That’s right, love… make a mess on me-“ he encouraged, his gravelly voice whispering into your ear as he held you to him.

He wasn’t that far behind you, grunting curses and profanities into your ear about filling you up as his hips met yours with one final, hard thrust, before he was spilling his hot come into you. His body shuddering beside you as he panted into your neck again.

You let out a quiet, weak moan as you felt warmth of his spend bloom inside of you. You both stayed there for a few minutes, catching your breaths as you felt sweat dancing over your skin - your pussy still pulsing around his softening cock from the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm.

“Fuckin’ hell..” he breathed — his voice trailing to a soft chuckle as he slowly pulled his lax cock out of you, gently shushing you when you whined at the loss. “So good f’me, always such a good girl…” he praises, kissing around your ear as he whispers sweet nothings to you.

As your captain coddled you and cleaned you up, you were both blissfully unaware of the ogling eyes from the shadows, the moonlight shining through the window giving a glimmer of light to reflect against the cool surface of the skull mask…

A/N: hope everyone enjoyed! Sorry it took so long to get out been a lil busy. I couldn’t resist adding the little mention of Ghost in the end — I LOVE reading those fics and head cannons of Ghost x you x Price.

Ooo maybe I should write a Ghost x reader x Price??? Lmk!!

#cod price #john price x reader #captain price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #john price smut #captain price smut #price x reader #simon ghost riley #barry sloane #captain price #call of duty #modern warfare two #john soap mactavish

[drabblesandimagines]

Code Pizza

Leon Kennedy x fem reader Established relationship, fluff 1,531 words

“Can’t you go any faster?” The barrel of a gun is pressed against the already tender spot from where they’d oh-so-kindly whacked you round the head earlier and you wince, losing the slight flow you’d managed to build up on the keyboard – Leon’s words echoing around your head.

“Promise me you won’t ever do any of that self-sacrificing bullshit,” he’d mumbled in your ear, arms wrapped around you in bed. He’d got back from a mission that afternoon – been awful quiet about what it had entailed, what had happened and you hadn’t pressed.

“Me?”

“Mm. Like, if… If someone’s forcing you to do something – do it, we’ll sort out the mess later. You make sure you’re home and alive at the end of the day.” His voice sounded almost strained. “Just promise me, sweetpea.”

“I promise.”

Not exactly sure if this scenario was exactly what Leon had had in mind, but there’s a gun and a threat, so you’re typing… or at least attempting to.

“She’d be faster if you’d untied her hands.” Hunnigan grumbled from behind, seated in an office chair with her hands zip-tied behind her back. Yours are bound in front of you, keeping your wrists crossed, and essentially cutting one hand out of action entirely.

“Is that true?” Your minder – A, you decide to call him - leans forward into your peripheral vision, though his face is obscured by a ski mask – as is his companion’s – B - standing over Hunnigan. They’re geared up to the nines, spare ammo dangling off tactical belts, part of a larger operation in order to gain access to DSO HQ and you, apparently. The doors are locked down due to the emergency protocol, though the HQ works on a skeleton crew at the weekend so it’s possible that no-one even knows you and Hunnigan are in.

“100 words per minute at my best.” You shrug, eyes skimming over the code you’ve managed to get through so far. “I’m probably working at… 15 and less. So, yeah, it would be faster.”

“Nice try.” B states. “You’re writing code, not a novel.”

“Novel, no. Poetry, maybe...” You trail off. It would be a lot easier if you did have both of your hands, weren’t being held at gunpoint and not suffering from a raging headache.

You weren’t even supposed to be working, it being a Sunday. You’d been in yesterday working overtime on a project, but this morning had been spent catching up on dull chores around the house – laundry, going to the store, cleaning - and then the plan had been an afternoon of video games on the sofa, ordering a pizza for dinner, accompanied by a bottle of wine. Leon had been away a couple of days on a need-to-know basis and you didn’t have a date of when he’d be back, though he did always try and give you a couple of hours’ heads up on his impending arrival.

Early afternoon, just as you’d sat down, controller in hand, you’d got a call. Not from your boyfriend, however, but from one Ingrid Hunnigan, extremely apologetic but there had been urgent developments – vague, as always – and she needed you in ASAP. You’d agreed, couldn’t really refuse her, but you’d decided in a slight show of protest you weren’t getting changed into your more professional work wardrobe. If it truly was an emergency, they’d have to deal with you in your jeans and t-shirt…

..which had led to the nasty bruise on your temple when the intruders had burst in, taking you as a civilian to be subdued. When you came to, hands now bound, head thudding, fingers being snapped in front of your face to get your attention, you were wheeled in front of the computer terminal and given your objective.

“It’s faster in the movies.” A comments, waving the gun lazily now at least.

“We’re not in the movies.” You grumble back, irritated. “I’m writing a bespoke code to get into this system.”

B comes to stand at your side, then. “Well, our contact promised us that you were some sort of genius at this sort of stuff.”

“Maybe when I’m not concuss-” You’re cut off by him slamming his fist on the desk besides you, making you jump and your heart pound.

“Enough lip, enough excuses. Concentrate.”

You shuffle in the seat, repositioning your hands and continue on with what’s been demanded of you, Leon’s words echoing in your mind.

Your phone emits a jingle from your pocket – speak of the devil…

“What’s that?” B demands, looking around.

“It’s my phone – just a text.”

“You were meant to search her, you idiot.” B chides his companion. “Where is it?”

“Jacket pocket.” It chimes again.

“Someone’s popular.” You bite your tongue as he crouches down besides you, placing a hand unnecessarily on your thigh as he dips his hand in your pocket, fishing it out. “Who’s LSK?”

“My boyfriend.” You don’t need to turn to know Hunnigan’s trying to hold in a grin.

“Says he’s on his way home, wants to know if you’re there.”

“Can you tell him I’m working late and he should order pizza for dinner? I haven’t been grocery shopping yet and I was meant to.”

“I’m not your secretary,” B scoffs.

The phone chimes again. You’d set Leon’s messages to that obnoxious sound to be sure you heard it, not wanting to miss a chance to text with him whilst he was away. If he had time on his hands, his texts often turned to stream of consciousness until he got a reply.

“You ignoring me, sweetpea? God, he’s a bit needy, isn’t he?”

“He’ll just keep doing it unless I text back,” you pause in your typing, “Or I can do it…”

“Ah-ah, keep working.” B replies, tapping at your phone’s keyboard.

It chimes again and B sighs.

“He wants to know what you want.”

“Er…” You hesitate a moment, pretending to doublecheck a string value. “Veggie. Extra jalapenos.”

He taps again and sends, before placing your phone down on the desk out of reach. His hand squeezes your shoulder and he leans in. “Keep coding like a good girl, and we’ll make sure you get home for that pizza.”

--

You don’t know how he managed it with the protocols in place – surely it means there’ll be another security review - but a mere 45 minutes later after ordering your pizza, Leon comes crashing down from the ceiling, taking out A and B with single, effective shots in the chest as he does.

He forward rolls out of the impact and gets to his feet with a flourish.

“Sorry for the wait, ladies, pizza’s free since it wasn’t 30 minutes or less.” He grins, heading to Hunnigan first and cutting through her restraints.

“Do I even want to ask?” Hunnigan quirks an eyebrow, rubbing her wrists. Leon walks over to you next, crouching down in front of you and cutting your wrists free. “Wait, extra jalapenos?”

“Bingo.” You reply, though unable to tear your eyes away from Leon – he looks tired, not unusual after returning from a mission, in need of a shave. He cups your face, fingers gently brushing over the tender spot on your temple to assess the damage. “It’s a dumb code, we know.”

“No, it obviously worked. Good thinking.” Hunnigan nods, getting to her feet and approaching another terminal, sliding in her keycard to overrule the emergency controls and release the doors. “I need to call this all in – get it tidied up. Did you gain access?”

“No, couple of lines away, though.” You look at the lines of code on the screen. “I did spend a lot of time to make sure it had a real nice interface for when I ran it, for extra pizazz.”

“Good work – both of you.” Hunnigan turns to face Leon directly then, “Make sure you keep an eye on her - took quite a hit.”

“I will. Thanks, Hunnigan.” He remains crouched at your feet, your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Good. And don’t come into tomorrow – either of you. I’ll deal with… this.” She strides out with purpose, shoulders back, nothing alluding to the fact that she was a woman who’s been held hostage for the past however many hours.

“You good, sweetheart?”

You smile, staring deep into those blue eyes you adore. “I’m good. You?”

“Won’t lie, not quite the homecoming I expected. Come here.” He pulls you up out of the chair and against his chest, wraps his arms around you and kisses you frantically, though you know it’s in relief.

“Had me worried with those jalapenos,” Leon admits, softly.

“I kept my promise.”

“Mm, not quite.” He pulls back and grins – you know that grin – but you still let out a squeal as he hooks an arm under your legs and picks you up in his arms.

“Leon, I can-“

“Nah, your promise isn’t kept and my mission isn’t over till you’re home. Allow me to give you the full hero experience.”

You roll your eyes, before pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Fine. But we’re still getting pizza.”

“Took the words outta my mouth, sweetpea.”

--

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#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day fourteen: degradation kink

>>> so clearly i have a lot of issues...y'all gonna hate me for this one i can just feel it in my bones but guess what....i do not care! toji is degradation need i say more?

>>> starring toji fushiguro x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: dilf!toji, age gap, college aged reader, mafia themes, dad's best friend toji, degradation duh, no prep, exhibitionism, breeding, a daddy theme? you don’t ever call him that it’s just. yes. dark content maybe? just in case. creampie, pet names. >>> wc: 3.6k >>> event masterlist

it was risky, you know, and most certainly wrong. you should be disgusted. he’s been married—lost his wife, has a young kid, all things much more adult than you’ve ever had to deal with in your college-aged life. he’s a horrible man, though you suppose your father isn’t much better since they work so closely together, not that you’re supposed to know anything about the work they do. all you know is they make way too much money and carry way too many guns for their jobs to unrelated to the mafia crime wars making the news. you should be disgusted and scared, yet here you stand, in front of your mirror trying to find the best outfit to wear downstairs to greet your dad’s sexy colleague. 

you were only in town for so long since you were just visiting your family for summer break, so you had limited time to try and lure him into making a move. so you settle for a black bra that enhances your bust, covered only with a black glitter mesh long sleeve and a matching leather mini that clings to your ass. it was definitely a heels kind of night, and the pretty black louboutins you slid into elongate your legs perfectly. after some hair and makeup, you sling your purse over your shoulder and only make your way down the stairs when you can hear his deep voice speaking with your father. 

you stride past the office, knowing your dad would stop you. your heels click against the mahogany and as if on cue, your father belts your name. you grin to yourself, everything was going according to plan. you turn, clicking back to lean into the room. 

“yes, daddy?” you hum, batting your eyes so innocently when you were the picture of anything but. it makes a vein in your father’s forehead jump, but alas, you’re a grown woman who makes her own decisions. just rest assured the weight of god would come down on whoever wronged his baby girl. 

“where’s my princess going?” he coos, giving an apologetic glance to his coworker. luckily, he feels his eyes and meets them, giving him a nod of forgiveness. 

“oh, just going out with some of my girls! becky just got out of a relationship–she needs the club!” you titter adorably, feeling his eyes bore into you. you give him a sickeningly sweet smile, “hi mister fushiguro!” 

the scarred corner of his lip creeps into a grin, a finger salute serving as his greeting only because he didn’t trust his mouth to keep his thoughts at bay. you’re sexy as fuck, and totally off limits. it only makes him want you worse, though it doesn’t help you’re the hottest bitch he’s ever seen. 

“do be careful, princess.” he smiles, clueless to how his friend eyes you up. 

“course daddy. can i take your black card?” you pout so endearingly, toji would give you all the money in his wallet if you asked. your father hums approvingly and fishes it out of his wallet, holding it up in the air for you to retrieve. your heels click and your hips swing as you make your way over, displaying your delicious figure perfectly. toji thinks it’s a miracle your father hasn’t had to kill anyone over you yet. you lean over the desk and take the card with perfectly manicured fingers. he watches it all, already planning how the rest of this night would go once you left. 

“be careful.” your father reiterates, and you roll your eyes and kiss his cheek. 

“don’t worry–my guys can handle anyone who gets outta line–satoru and suguru would never let anything happen to me.” you swear, batting those long lashes again. your father seems comforted by this, but toji is only aggravated to learn you have male friends. they no doubt wanted to fuck you and were only biding their time just as he was. “bye daddy, see you later mister fushiguro!” 

and just like that, your red bottoms carried you away with obnoxious clicks telling him just how far from him you were. your father sighs heavily. 

“what a handful that girl is.” he says affectionately, shaking his head as they get back on task, your father giving toji a rival kill for the night. he grins at the file, knowing he’d be able to wrap that up rather quickly and then get to the real target. 

you’re haunted by how effortlessly good he looked, and how unable you are to do anything about it on the way to the club, only wallowing in your desperation for a man way older than you. he was just so big, tall and broad and had to be even stronger than he looked. you knew he was experienced and rough, he would definitely be able to take care of you, if only you could work up the nerve to actually hit on him instead of these passive aggressive attempts at drawing him to you. it clearly wasn’t doing the trick, even if you could tell he wanted you. you’re so lost in your own head that the driver has to get your attention multiple times before you realize that you’re outside the building. you step out and shimmy your skirt down a bit further. 

the sound of your friends squealing as they wait for you draws you right to them, painting a smile on your face to celebrate you friend’s breakup—shoving hopes of toji fushiguro finding you at the club tonight to the back of your head. the scene is nothing special, just like every other clubbing spot in every city in the world. it’s all neon lights and smoky clouds of tobacco and marajuana both, the smell of liquor and vomit mingling together to make your nose scrunch and sting as you enter the dingy dance floor alongside your closest girls—and the bodyguard boys trailing behind you. your group makes their way to the bar immediately, fruity mixed drinks and beers being handed out for the first of many times tonight. you can feel the buzz of excitement in the air even though you were feeling let down, perhaps that was because of the group of fellow college-aged boys eyeing you and your friends down from the dj booth. you play your little games with the man staring at you longingly, downing the rest of your liquid courage to go ask him to dance. 

his hands were clammy, but at least he smelled good—like too much cologne and the gum in his mouth, his body pressed up against yours as you two sway to some electro-funk beat meaninglessly. You can feel his sweaty hands trail along your waist and hips, even lowering to your thighs and inching his fingers up the already short leather skirt, and your nose scrunches up in distaste. it was better than wondering about your father’s right hand man though, so you settle for it. you tell yourself that if you think hard enough, you can picture him instead. it doesn’t take as much effort as you thought. the clammy hands of the college boy disappear to be replaced by the coarser broader hands of an older man, the heavy cologne replaced by a natural musk with hints of a beach bonfire mingled in. his hands would move along your body expertly, he would know the ins and outs of the female anatomy–surely able to please you in all facets. you can just imagine his smirking face as he leans down over your shoulder to whisper something raunchy in your ear, something about how he’s been waiting to make you his since the minute he saw you. 

which is almost exactly what happens, except the man you’re daydreaming of stands in front of you looking real amused, seething almost. “princess,” he snarls, the bass in his voice alone enough to shock away the little boy grinding into your ass. “here i was thinkin’ ya got all dressed up f’r me.”

the red and green strobe lights of the club dance off his sharp features, highlighting the jealousy and intrigue swimming in his eyes. there was a splatter of blood on his cheek, but otherwise he looked as gorgeous as he normally did. his black t-shirt looked nearly spray-painted on the way it was highlighting every ridge and muscle in his chest and torso, and his usual pants clung to the taut muscle of his broad thighs. 

“i did, but you shrivel up in front of my daddy.” you tease, unsure of where your courage to poke at the dangerous and large man came from. “now you wanna come here and scare off the ones bold enough to dance with me?” 

you’re evil, you’re sick in the head, but you smirk like you knew he would fall into the trap easily. and he does. he grabs your wrist and spins you around, and you feel the warmth of his fingertips digging into your hip. another one of the college boys watches with contempt, nursing a bloody nose you imagine he earned with some slick comment— that explains the fresh blood on toji’s face. he presses up against you, dropping your wrist in favor of a hold on your throat, not too good to manhandle you in public. what’s someone gonna do? intervene? call the cops? that makes him laugh. the grip on your throat is surprisingly light, though the threat of something more punishing looms large. you feel his chest rumble against your back— he was laughing at your tense form, the beat of some rap song thumping in your ears now. 

“yeah, that’s exactly what i did.” he snarls in your ear, his hold on your throat keeping your back to his chiseled chest, not that you wanted to get away anyhow. “shrivel up,” he chortles at your dig, replaying your little tantrum. “y’know the only reason i can’t manhandle ya in front of your pops is ‘cuz he’d get so stupid i’d have to kill him. want that, sweetheart?” 

you’re embarrassed you have to keep yourself from nodding—wagering your father’s life just to have his colleague the way you wanted, how shameful. he spits these pet names like they’re insults, like he knows what you really are. a little whine of desperation leaves your throat and you press your ass back against him, collecting your thoughts to find something to say to drive him wild. “do whatever you gotta do, i’m familiar with the business—just want you real bad, mister fushiguro.” 

it works, everything you do puts him deeper under your spell, gritting his teeth in frustration as he falls for you. it’s more embarrassing for him than it is for you, really. he’s a grown man enchanted by the supple body and soul of a woman a fraction of his age. but he can’t stop himself from tailing you on your outings, telling himself that your dad pays him a pretty penny to keep you out of harm’s way, and that’s all he does. but he goes above and beyond, especially on nights like these when some little boys are feeling a little too bold for his liking. so of course he followed you here, and of course he broke that scrub’s nose who said something about your ass, and of course, it was just a matter of time. until he just couldn’t lie to himself any longer about what he wanted. until you pushed him over the edge and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. 

“oh yeah?” he hums, brow arching up as his hands slide down your hips, playing with the hem of your skirt. “you really that big a slut for me? you’d let me kill your precious daddy?” he chuckles, pressing a wet kiss under your ear. he radiated warmth and possessiveness and his fingertips dug into the skin of your thighs. you don’t know if it’s the alcohol or his words but you’re buzzing. you can feel his handprints practically searing into your flesh, the two of you barely moving to the beat that drowns out all other noise. 

he slaps your ass. “asked you a question.” his gravelly voice rasps in your ear, the scraping of his teeth against your flesh comes next instead of a sweet kiss. you whimper out a bit and nod, feeling the heat course around your body in a mixture of embarrassment and deep arousal. he was right—you were a massive slut, dedicating your entire summer break to getting his attention in hopes he would touch you like he is right now. 

“can’t hear ya–might be th’ music?” he taunts, sliding his other hand away from your neck and over your voluptuous chest. he grunts impatiently as he feels the dips of your body and that coarse sheer top beneath his fingertips, waiting for you to obey. 

“yes—i’m’a slut, mister fushiguro.” you hiccup from the vodka running through your veins and the embarrassment stinging at your eyes. his chuckle rumbles through his chest again, though not in the way it did earlier. he spins you around to face him, pinching your chin in between his forefinger and thumb. 

“call me toji, dollface.” he smirks as you nod sheepishly, suddenly shy now that you were getting your way. he was even scarier up close, beautiful features twisted and darkened to reveal his sinister nature. but you find a way to get lost in hooded eyes of green reflecting the crazy flashing lights as he looks past you, trying to find somewhere to take you. he locates a bathroom, dragging you behind him with another commanding grip on your wrist. he has the decency to pull you inside the women’s stalls at least, reserving the biggest one for your activities. he would just fuck you out in the open to really show you how crazy you make him, but he can’t risk making that big a scene—and he’d probably have a few more bodies to bury if anyone looked at you the wrong way. 

you stand in the middle of the stall, watching him secure the lock and turn to you, chuckling at your waiting expression. you were nervous, wanting to impress but not sure where to start despite the hot need snowballing in your center the longer you stand there and look at him. he tilts his head up and you walk towards him, his smirk spreads. 

“you’re an obedient lil pup for such a spoiled bitch.” he chuckled, shoving his beefy hands under your top and pushing it and your bra up over your chest. you swear you can feel your panties dampen from the words alone, why did you like it so much? you open your mouth to respond, stammering over your speech. 

“i’m–i–i’m n-not—” 

“spit it out, pup.” he laughs, feeling at the round mounds you barely kept covered. they’re just as fat and soft as he knew they’d be, and his cock starts responding to your little whimpers as he massages you roughly, pulling and pinching at your nipples. 

“not a—not a slut!” you huff out despite the way you lean against the wall to relish his callused hands on you. he snickers again, the sound so mean it makes you pout up at him. it only makes his cock harder. he drops his hand to cup your pussy, earning a gasp from you. you bite down on your lip as he shoves your thong aside and crudely collects some of your slick on his digits. he clicks his tongue when he shows you, fluorescent lighting and your arousal making his fingers shine. 

“not a slut? then what’s this?” he arches a brow. “seems like y’r dribbling down y’r legs to me.” he taunts, pale pink lips stretching into a menacing grin. he doesn’t give you a chance to respond, shoving his fingers past your pout until they tickle the back of your throat and you gag. the sound makes him shudder a bit, and he’ll make sure you choke on his dick next time. “say it or i’m goin’ home. not giving my dick to liars.” 

you clean his fingers, intrigued by the sweet acidity of yourself. your eyes widen a bit at his threat, knowing you were defeated. his other hand tugs at your hard nipple again and you wince at the delicious pain. you pull off his fingers and resume that adorable pout. “guess i am–i’d do anything!”

he laughs and yanks your skirt up to your waist, letting his thick fingers play over your swelling clit tauntingly. “then beg for dick like the little whore you are.” he says in a faux-non-chalance. your breath hitches at his feather light touch and demeaning command, but as he steps back and pushes down his jeans, your mouth waters. 

“oh god–” you whine aloud, legs pressing together at him. he was huge, wrapped in bulging veins and gorgeous ridges. his black hair was trimmed around his base, full balls hanging low. you lick your lips at the sight of his hand closing around his shaft, and you gulp when you realize just how big he is, a massive hand not enough to contain him. “fuck. toji–please, i want you so bad.” you bat your lashes at him, fixated between his dick and his piercing stare. “may be a whore—just for you though, been waitin’ on you to notice me. “

oh, he noticed. you made it impossible not to, looking like pure sex every time he saw you—but the glossiness in your eyes and the slight bruising around your tits really brings it all together. he drops the baby changing table and looks to you. he does it so effortlessly you wonder for a second if he’s done this before, but it didn’t matter either way—you would be the most memorable for sure. 

“bend over.” he adds, the dark pools of lust taking over the greens of his eyes. you do as told, feeling embarrassed at your disheveled state as you lean over the table attached to the wall and part your legs, feeling his hand come down on your ass roughly. you squeal and jump a little bit before his hand snakes between your thighs to feel just how ready you were. “poor old man. gonna be so devastated.” 

“don’t care.” you whimper, wiggling your ass back to feel more of his cock as he slides it along your folds, stealing some of your wetness for himself. he chuckles, grabbing as much of your fat ass as his hand could hold. 

“course y’don’t. y’r my little whore.” he grunts, jiggling your cheek. “he’s right though. you really are a handful.” he chuckles at his own joke, aggressively shoving his thick cock past your tiny hole, cussing at the tight fit. “see? swallowing me up like it’s all y’r good for.” he huffs against your neck, leveraging his weight to snap his hips against you like he hates your guts. you’re clawing at the textured plastic under you, his pace absolutely brutal and ripping guttural cries from your throat. he reaches around to clap his hand over your mouth, not wanting anyone to come running thinking someone’s getting murdered back here. “loud slut too, hah?” 

you nod, rendered unable to do anything else. he pounds into you, jamming his leaking tip into the entrance of your cervix, sending blissful pain shooting through your body. he was even better than you imagined, tingles shooting everywhere and blurbs of white floating across your eyes. your arms start to wobble as you hurtle towards your orgasm, and toji reaches out–making a ponytail out of your hair to pull on, snapping your back into a deep arch. he grunts at the vision before him, your pussy was gripping him like nothing he’d ever experienced. 

“never fucked a whore cunt like yours–maybe i’ll cum real deep in it so i can keep you.” 

you clench at that and he tosses his head back to groan, amazed by the recoil of your ass and the choke of your walls. you whimper in his hand, the idea of feeling his cum was so hot to you—you couldn’t possibly delay your own release any longer. he feels you still, your pussy spasming around him as your body goes completely limp. you still make your little noises of approval as he uses you. 

“aw, you liked that, huh? you’re nasty, bitch.” he chuckles deeply now, cock twitching in your womb. but he’s just as bad, fantasizing about how you’d tell your father that news, how he’d do anything it took to see your slutty body grow into a motherly one. he paints your walls in thick, hot ropes, stilling inside you. “guess megumi could always use a sibling.” 

he pats your ass with something akin to affection and slides out, watching beads of his seed trickle out. you pant and try to collect your thoughts, expecting to hear the lock of the stall click open and toji’s footsteps pad away from you—no doubt slipping back into the night to patrol for your father like usual. but moments pass, and you don’t hear anything other than you’re own breathing until he clears his throat again. 

“so. wanna get some food’r somethin’?” he thumbs at the corner of his lip anxiously, and you swear you can see the hint of a blush on his nose. so this is the part that makes him nervous? 

“huh? you tryna be my boyfriend or my sugar daddy?” you giggle as he repositions your skirt on your hips. he rolls his eyes.  “more like your baby daddy, dollface.” he spanks your ass and opens the bathroom stall, letting the lady go first—showing you that he’s a perfect gentleman.

#kyleewritesjjk #kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #toji smut #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #toji zenin #toji thirst #toji x you

[nanawritesit]

Stray Kids Tattoo Artist AU Imagines! (fem!reader)

Part Two - (NSFW/ 18+/ MDNI) 🔞

*disclaimer: none of these edits or tattoos are mine, i found them all on pinterest*

TW: inappropriate flirting with/from professional artists (sexual harassment is a real thing kids, respect your artists and they’ll respect you!) partial nudity, consensual touching and groping, them asking you out, praise, suggestive remarks, pet names (honey, sweetheart, angel, love, baby, good girl,) needles, mentions of food (CB,) hand holding (F,) mentions of grief and lost loved ones (I.N)

Bangchan: Chest

You knew Bangchan from a friend of a friend. You had spoken to each other a few times at a couple of parties, and when he told you he was a tattoo artist, you immediately checked out his artwork. He was really good, so after a while you decided to book an appointment and get something you had always wanted: a red rose on your chest.

It was going well so far, you were wearing a strapless bra so the nudity wasn’t an issue, but as he got lower and lower tattooing the stem, you noticed him getting tense and rigid.

“Are you okay, Chan?” you asked him as he was reloading the ink.

He perked up in surprise. “I’m supposed to be the one asking you that.” he chuckled.

“It’s just… you seem nervous.” you remarked, leaning closer to him. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No, it’s not you…” he shook his head frantically, shooting you an apologetic smile. “I just…” He glanced around the room, avoiding your gaze for a moment. “Okay, I’m gonna tell you a secret, but you have to promise not to laugh.” he demanded, eyes locking back in on yours.

You crossed your heart. “I promise.”

He sighed. “Okay. You’re the first girl I’ve ever tattooed.”

You did as you promised and didn’t laugh, but your mouth did fall open a bit in surprise. “Really?”

He nodded, chuckling uncomfortably. “Yeah… We don’t get a lot of pretty girls in here. It’s mostly bikers, gym bros, and playboys.”

You blushed, smirking slightly. “You think I’m pretty?”

His eyes widened. “I mean… yeah? You’re gorgeous, which makes me even more nervous. And the fact that your tattoo is in the… you know, cleavage area, it’s just… a bit hard to relax I suppose. I’m sorry, this is so unprofessional of me.”

“No, it’s okay, I understand…” you reassured him. “Are you… unsure of where to put your hands?”

His eyes shifted in hesitation, then looked you in the eye once again. He nodded meekly.

“Here…” you suggested, reaching for his left wrist. You placed his hand along your breast, allowing him to touch it. “You can grip onto it, it’s okay.”

He gulped, then did as you asked. He winced, then reached for his tattoo gun with his dominant hand. “Okay, thank you. I feel a lot better now.” he lied through his teeth. Here you were allowing him to touch such a private area out of kindness for his artistry, and yet it only made him more nervous. He supposed it was because he had harbored such a massive crush on you since the day he met you, and when you approached him for a tattoo, it made his heart stop. But he shouldn’t have been bringing those feelings into his tattoo studio. This was his job, he told himself.

“Hey, Chan…” you interrupted his thoughts, placing your fingers delicately along his jaw. He looked up at you, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. You smiled warmly at him. “I asked you to do my tattoo because you’re really talented, I trust you, and I really like you. You don’t have to be nervous.”

He grinned appreciatively. Hearing you say that did calm him down a bit, and gave him the confidence to continue. “Thank you, Y/N. Alright, let’s finish this rose. It’s going to look so good on you.”

He didn’t know how he was going to contain himself after this, seeing you walk around with his art on your chest that he put there himself. He was going to have to muster up the courage to ask you out before someone else did. But for right now, all he was focused on was giving you the best tattoo he’d ever done.

Lee Know: Collarbone

He slid your sweater down to look over your collarbone, grinning approvingly as he took it in. “Oh yeah, this vine is going to look so sick.”

You giggled, finding yourself attracted to his confidence. Something about a man who took pride in his craft just drove you wild. Almost wild enough to forget how nervous you were.

He seemed to notice your uneasiness, backing away a bit. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just a bit anxious…” you explained, brushing some of your hair behind your ear.

“Why are you anxious? It’s just a tattoo.” he chuckled.

“Well, that’s easy for you to say.” you laughed, gesturing to his tattoos. He had one along his neck and another along his left hand trailing up his wrist. They were beautiful, and you wondered how much they had hurt.

“Oh, I get it…” he concluded, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back with a smirk. “This is your first tattoo, isn’t it?”

Your eyes widened in shock. “How did you..?”

“You just have ‘the look.’ Everyone getting their first tattoo has a certain look to them.” he explained nonchalantly. “But sweetheart, you have nothing to worry about. It’s gonna hurt a bit, but I’m sure you’ll be okay. You seem pretty tough.”

You grinned at his compliment, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit. “I do?”

He nodded in confirmation. “Of course you do. And even if you can’t take it, we can stop whenever you want. There’s no shame in it.”

You smiled at his reassurance, gaining a sudden determination. “Alright, let’s do this!”

“Atta girl…” he praised, patting your knee encouragingly. “Okay, let’s get started…”

Changbin: Back

You laid out on your stomach, completely topless save for the pasties over your nipples. He had given you the option to just unclip your bra, but you wanted him to have as much space to work with as he needed.

He rolled his chair over to you and began prepping his tools. “Alright honey, this is gonna take about five hours. You sure you’re up for this?”

You smirked at him over your shoulder. “I can handle it.”

He grinned approvingly. “That’s what I like to hear. Alright, let’s get started.”

The outline was a little painful, but it was honestly quite an interesting sensation. It actually felt kind of good, pumping up your adrenaline as he drug the needle along your skin.

He placed a hand delicately on your shoulder. “How’s that feeling so far? You need a break?”

You shook your head with a chuckle. “No, I’m actually feeling pretty good. Is that weird?”

He laughed lightheartedly, continuing on with his work. “No, not at all. I feel the same way about tattoos. Maybe… you just kind of like pain? Have you ever thought about that?”

You gulped, trying to contain yourself. Something about your hunky tattoo artist asking you if you liked the pain he was inflicting on you made you flustered.

You laughed awkwardly. “I don’t know, maybe? I guess I just have a pretty good tolerance.”

“You do. You’re doing such a good job. I’m proud of you.” he smiled, running a hand along the curve of your spine. “Forgive me if this sounds inappropriate, but you have a really nice back. These wings are going to suit you so well.”

You grinned, feeling your cheeks heat up at his compliment and praise. “Thank you… I can’t decide if they look more like angel wings or fairy wings.”

“Either way, they’re beautiful. After all, I designed them.” he chuckled cockily. “Say, um… you’re going to need a pretty big meal after this, and it’ll be around dinner time when we get done… Do you maybe wanna get some food together? There’s a really good chicken place down the street, I’d love to take you there.”

You looked over at him affectionately. “Yeah, I’d like that. Are you sure you wanna spend that much time with me?”

“Of course. I’m all yours for the night, angel.”

Hyunjin: Hip

When your artist walked out into the waiting area to come greet you with a cute smile, you seriously questioned that he was it. He looked much too angelic and sweet to be a tattooist. But when you got into his studio, he took off his flannel and tied it around his waist, revealing a sick arm sleeve that went up his neck.

“Wow…” you marveled, forgetting yourself for a moment.

He smirked, glancing over at you in the chair. “Pardon?”

You shook your head, grounding yourself once again. “Sorry, I meant… I really like your tattoos.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate that.” he grinned, getting his tools ready. “I designed the sleeve myself and had a colleague tattoo it for me. I’m really happy with it.” He walked over to his table and picked up the print, bringing it over to you. “Are you happy with your design? We can tweak a few things if you like.”

You looked it over, then shook your head with an approving smile. “No, it’s perfect. You did a great job.”

“Awh, I haven’t even done the tattoo yet, and you’re already praising me…” he chuckled, sitting down in his chair in front of you. He suddenly placed his hands on your thighs. “Alright, first things first, these cute little shorts are gonna have to come off.”

Your eyes widened. “Like, all the way?”

He laughed at your nervousness. “Well, I don’t want you to have to hike them up the whole time, and I’m not going to be able to hold them either.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your chair. “Okay…”

“Hey, don’t be shy…” he reassured you with a warm smile, patting your knee. “Tattoos are always an intimate process no matter where they are. Trust me, I’ve tattooed people in much weirder places. You have nothing to worry about.”

You grinned appreciatively. Knowing that he wasn’t uncomfortable with it at all made you feel a bit better. “Okay, can you just… turn around for a second?”

“Of course. Let me know when you’re ready.” he replied, turning back to his table.

You then removed your shorts and sat back down in your chair. “Alright, I’m good.”

He turned back to you, his eyes not lingering any longer than they needed to. He was completely focused on the task at hand, which you somehow found even more attractive than if he was gawking at you.

“Okay, let’s lean your chair back…” he suggested, placing a hand over your décolletage to steady you as he adjusted the chair. You held your breath at the sudden contact, feeling your heartbeat quicken. Were you really developing a crush on your tattoo artist?

“Okay, do you trust me?” he asked, suddenly leaning into your face with such intensity that it made you freeze. God, he was so beautiful, his features looked like they were sculpted out of marble.

You nodded with a tiny grin. “I trust you.” Damn, this was going to be a long session…

Han: Thigh

You tapped your heels on the floor anxiously. Han Jisung was one of the best tattoo artists in the area, and you had somehow managed to book an appointment with him. Luckily your best friend Chan had connections, but you had never met him in real life, or even seen a picture of him. You followed him on instagram, but he only ever posted about tattoos or his artwork.

Suddenly, the curtains opened, and a handsome man with blonde hair, piercings, and a neck tattoo walked in. “Y/N?” he asked, pointing to you with a grin.

“That’s me. Are you…?” you asked, pointing back at him.

“Han Jisung.” he answered you, extending his hand for you to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, I’m a huge fan of your work!” you giggled, feeling yourself getting flustered. “I still can’t believe I got a session with you.”

“Awh thank you, I appreciate anyone who likes my art.” he smiled cutely, brushing some of his hair back nervously. You couldn’t believe how adorable he was. You were expecting some huge, burly guy with a scary face and scars all over his body. He also seemed very humble, not at all aware that he was one of the most in-demand tattooists in the city. “Chan said you were a good friend of his, and I owed him a favor anyway, so I’m happy I can do this for you.”

“Yeah, I didn’t even know he knew you… he said you guys went to art school together?” you inquired, compelled to find out more about this mystery artist in front of you.

He chuckled, walking over to his table. “Yeah, we go way back. Actually, the design I pulled for you was one I did back when I was in school.” He sifted through some papers, then pulled out the print, brandishing it to you. “What do you think?”

You stared blankly at it, mouth agape. “Oh my god, it’s perfect! You did this in school?”

He laughed at your praise, and you swore you saw his cheeks tinge a shade of light pink. “Yeah, I did… You said you wanted something delicate and natural, but a little sexy. Does this fill all the requirements?”

“Um, yeah?” you replied, questioning why he even needed to ask that. “It’s amazing, Han. Can I call you that?”

“You can call me whatever you want, whenever you want.” he grinned flirtatiously. He then shook his head at himself in disbelief. “Sorry, that was so cheesy...”

“Are you flirting with me?” you teased, crossing your arms with a smirk.

“No, of course not, that would be inappropriate…” he laughed anxiously, rolling his chair up in front of you. “Now, can I map out where you want it?” He was clearly desperate to change the subject.

Although you enjoyed flustering him, you were here for a reason. You nodded, leaning back to give him space.

He placed a hand delicately along your bare thigh, hiking up your shorts a bit. He ran his fingers along the smooth skin, mapping out the placement with his fingers. He suddenly groped the soft flesh, looking up at you intensely. “Is right here okay?”

Now it was your turn to get flustered. “Yeah, that’s good…”

He smirked, rolling back over to his tool cart. “Alright Y/N, let’s give you this delicately sexy tattoo.” This was clearly going to be a challenge as to who could tease the other the most, and you were totally up for it.

You smiled mischievously to yourself. Game on, Han Jisung.

Felix: Hand

Even with all his dark tattoos, Felix looked way too cute to be a tattoo artist. You had seen his freckled face on instagram, but part of you always questioned whether or not that was really him. But now, he was standing right in front of you, and you couldn’t deny how beautiful he was in real life. He somehow looked even more unreal in person.

“Okay Y/N, can I see your hand?” he asked, reaching out for it.

Your eyes widened. “Hm?”

“For the print, love.” he giggled at your shock.

“Oh, yeah…” you remembered the plot, placing your hand softly in his. He studied it, tracing the pads of his fingers along the curves of your knuckles and wrist before placing the print overtop of them.

He adjusted the edges and then peeled off the backing. “Do you like that?”

“What?” you asked, previously being lost in a trance from the feeling of your hand in his.

“Do you like this placement?” he chuckled patiently. He was seemingly very amused at your wandering mind.

You nodded frantically, laughing at yourself anxiously. “Yeah it looks good.” Get it together, Y/N… you thought to yourself.

“Good...” he grinned, leaning forward to look you in the eyes. “Now, the hands are very sensitive, see?” He began running his thumb along the back of it, then holding it up and running his fingers along the palm. “You can feel every touch.” He squeezed your hand tightly, making your cheeks heat up. “Do you want to hold onto my shoulder with your other hand while I do this?”

“Y-yes… That would be nice…” you stuttered out, slowly reaching forward. You lightly placed your hand on his tattooed shoulder, glancing over the artwork. “You have really nice shoulders… I mean, tattoos…”

His nose scrunched up as he smiled at you once again, glad that he was flustering you so much. You were so adorable to him, he couldn’t help teasing you. “Thank you, love. Don’t be afraid to squeeze, I promise you won’t hurt me. I can take a lot of pain.”

You could’ve sworn he winked as he said that, but you were quickly distracted by the hum of his tattoo gun. You instinctively gripped onto his shoulder, prompting him to look you in the eyes once again. “Are you ready for me?”

You gulped, suddenly so aware of how intimate of a position you were in. You had gotten several tattoos before, there was no reason for you to feel as nervous as you were. Felix was single-handedly the most bold tattoo artist you’d ever had, not to mention the most good-looking. God, he was going to be the death of you. “Yes, I’m ready for you, Felix.”

He smirked, eyes narrowing and darkening in approval. “Alright, let’s go then.”

Seungmin: Ribcage

Your breath hitched in your throat as your tall, inked up artist walked back into the room. Clad in a v-neck shirt, his shoulder tattoos were on full display, as well as the one down his temple. This man clearly had a high tolerance for pain, which only made you more attracted to him. How the hell were going to get through this appointment with him?

“Alright, I’ve got the prints right here…” he explained, setting them down on the table. “Can you stand up for me?”

You nodded, quickly rising up as he had asked.

“Wow, obedient…” he chuckled, making you swallow hard. He placed his hands on your shoulders, pushing you forward slightly. He ghosted his hand over the hem of your crop top. “Can I…?”

“Yeah, go right ahead.” you grinned, relaxing in his hold.

He glanced over your shoulder as he lifted your shirt up to reveal your ribcage, still covering your nipple with the shirt. He brought his free hand around to run his fingers along the space under your breast. “So you’re thinking right here?”

You made eye contact with him though the mirror in front of you. “Yeah, and kind of wrapping around the breast… Do you think that’ll look good?”

“Oh yeah, it’s gonna look super hot.” he smiled, releasing your shirt and patting your shoulders encouragingly. He went back over to his table, giving you a moment to release the breath you were holding in. “I designed this to fit your body perfectly, and you have a great figure for it.”

“Really?” you asked, sitting back down in your chair and gripping onto the seat for stability. You didn’t know if you could handle any more praise from him.

“Yeah, your curves are going to make it stand out even more.” he complimented. “Here, see how mine curves around my shoulder?” He suddenly pulled his shirt down to reveal the tattooed area, making you gulp slightly.

You nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I see…”

He smirked at your embarrassment, then went back to getting his tools ready. “It’s like that. Okay, do you wanna put on some pasties?”

You nodded, taking them from him. He turned around to give you some privacy, not expecting you to have casually stripped off your entire shirt like it was nothing once you told him you had them on.

“Dang, you’re bold…” he marveled, grinning approvingly. “I like that.”

You smiled back at him, leaning back in your chair. “Well, we might as well get it out of the way now. We’re going to be spending the next two hours together with me being topless, aren’t we?”

He chuckled, finding your sudden confidence extremely attractive. “That’s true. Let’s get this pretty little rib tattooed, shall we?”

I.N: Behind the Ear

“That’s it, that’s a good girl…” Jeongin praised you, his hand delicately placed along the side of your neck.

You hissed as you laid on your side, the final white ink touches being the most painful. However, his encouragement felt so good it helped to distract you from the pain.

“And, just like that, we’re done!” he congratulated you, rubbing your hip to signal for you to get up. “You did such a good job, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Jeongin…” you sighed, laughing at the sting behind your ear. “I know it was small, but god that white hurt…”

“Oh yeah, white’s never fun. My left sleeve has a lot in it, and I had already been in the chair for like eight hours beforehand, so I just powered through and told them to get it over with. Worst decision of my life.” he chuckled to himself as he remembered, looking back up at you. “Can I ask… why did you get the butterflies?”

“I know it’s not the most original idea, or the most interesting choice to someone like you …” you began, gesturing to the detailed sleeves he had on both of his arms. “But I actually lost two of my friends last year, and I wanted to get these to feel like they’re watching over me.”

He smiled affectionately at your confession. “No, I would never judge anyone’s tattoo choice. It’s so personal, the only people who really judge what people get anymore are older artists and their ‘pick me’ wives.”

You laughed at his joke, hitting him on the arm playfully. “You really don’t think it’s too basic?”

He shook his head. “I think tattoos can be as meaningful or a meaningless as you want them to be. I’ve given deep tattoos, and silly ones, and they’re both really cool. I’m just glad I can provide this service to you.” He smiled adorably, his eyes wrinkling up at the corners.

“Thank you, Jeongin, I really love them…” you grinned, touching the red area behind your ear.

“It was my pleasure.” he grinned, looking a little disappointed that your time together was over. “Hey, are you doing anything after this?”

“Nope, this was pretty much my last commitment of the day.” you chuckled, grabbing your bag as you got ready to leave. “Why?”

“Well, it’s just…” he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing to the floor nervously. “I was wondering if you might want to get some coffee together? I think you’re really cool and interesting, and I’d like to get to know you better.”

You smiled so wide you thought your face would break. “I would love to. Let’s go.”

#stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids headcanons #stray kids reactions #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fluff #stray kids writing #bangchan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han x reader #lee felix x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n x reader

[mydearzero]

𝐑𝐄𝐃 | 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: What once was an innocent crush on a coworker quickly turned into a full blown infatuation with your boss. She could reprimand you all she wanted, but did she have to wear red while doing so?

Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, unit chief!Emily, SMUT, coworkers, very slight dom/sub undertones, office sex, oral sex, grinding, fingering, power imbalance (boss), canon compliant violence, If I missed any warnings please tell me!

2.8K words

it's here folks, enjoy. let's just ignore that everything about emily screams woman lover to build tension okay. this was the quickest 2.8K I've written in a long time so uh yeah do with that info what you will (I'm horny for Emily) - nik

You hadn't had the opportunity to work with Emily Prentiss before she left the team to work for Interpol. You'd only just missed each other, you joining mere weeks after she'd left. 

Her reputation preceded her. The team was overly fond of her, even after having faked her own death. You'd seen a picture here or there, but nothing could live up to the Emily Prentiss who met you in New York for the Copycat Killer case. 

She'd been in a relationship with some guy Mark, so you'd really tried to look the other way. But when Hotch went on temporary leave during the whole Scratch situation, she volunteered to rejoin. The day she stepped foot in the bullpen, you knew you were in trouble. 

You could ignore the heat rushing to your face and your hands getting clammy. You could ignore the knowing glances JJ gave you. You could even ignore the digs Luke sent your way once he'd figured out something was going on. What you couldn't ignore, however, was the story Emily was telling while having had one too many drinks. 

"-and my girlfriend at the time freaked out. I tried to tell her it was a fake, but she was already halfway to crying in my arms." 

The words repeated over and over again in your head. 

Girlfriend. 

Her. 

She. 

You could handle an unattainable crush. Hell. Who hadn't had a crush on a straight girl at least once in their life? But knowing Emily played for both teams changed things. It made your irrational feelings rational. You completely lost the ability to look her in the eyes after that. 

You tried to not let your feelings get in the way of your job. The work the BAU did was too important to let that happen. 

It didn't last long. 

An adrenaline rush got the better of you while attempting to talk down an UnSub. But what were you supposed to do? He'd held a gun to Emily's head. One wrong move and it would've been over. You couldn't take that chance. 

Your ears were ringing as tunnel vision took over. The grimy scenery of the warehouse faded into the background. The dripping of the leaking pipes was deafened by your heartbeat. The UnSub's words were drowned out by Emily's haggard breathing. She was scared. 

You did what you had to. You took the shot. The man had dropped to the floor, but not before firing a storm of bullets in your direction, only missing by a few inches. 

While you'd been lucky nobody had been hurt, the same couldn't be said about the team's reactions to your actions. The flight back to Quantico had been short but tense. You wouldn't be hearing the end of this for quite some time to come. 

Though you knew the team would be on edge around you for some time, you hadn't expected what would happen on the very next case. 

"You're off the case." Emily's words were blunt. 

"What? Why?" You questioned. You'd expected to have to take a psych evaluation. Maybe even redo your gun qualifications. But to be put on the bench? Especially on a local case? 

"We've profiled this UnSub as highly unpredictable. I can't have you take uncalculated risks in the field. I appreciate all the work you've done so far, but this is where I need you to step back." Emily looked apologetic. 

"The last case was different! I can stay back here with Penelope. Just let me help, Emily, please," you pleaded. Damn your inability to be mad at her. You couldn't, not when she wore that damn red top that complimented her complexion (and boobs) so well. 

"I'm sorry. We'll talk when we get back." 

Penelope wouldn't let you into her office, so you resorted to catching up on paperwork at your desk. You could've left and taken this as a sign to get some free time. Yet you stayed right there, waiting. 

When Penelope finally left her office with her stuff, ready to go home, you knew the case was over. She asked you to late dinner, but you declined, waiting for the rest of the team to arrive. She waved a short goodbye before stepping into the elevator, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. 

It wasn't long before the elevator moved again, doors opening to reveal Emily Prentiss. Just Emily Prentiss. You frowned as she walked into the bullpen, nodding at her office, signalling you to follow her. 

"Where's the rest?" You wondered, walking through the door and taking a seat across from the desk. Emily shut the door and turned to close the shutters. 

"I sent them home. We'll debrief in the morning," was all she said. 

She gestured to the chair across from hers. You sat, unsure of what to expect next. 

"I think we need to talk about what happened in New York," Emily left it an open statement. She obviously expected you to do the talking. 

"I'm aware my actions didn't look thought through. And maybe they weren't. But I was worried about what he would do to you," you were honest about what had gone down. 

"Worried or not, there are protocols we need to follow. You put everybody in that room in danger by making that choice. How is that any better than having me potentially get shot?" 

You really tried to focus. It was a serious and consequential discussion. But it was at that moment you realized you'd never actually been alone with Emily. You rubbed your hands on your thighs, trying to rid them of their clammyness and the tension that built in your body. 

"I don't know," was your final reply. A weak one, at that. Emily searched your face for answers. She noted the sheen covering your skin and dilated pupils. You felt scrutinized under her gaze. She squinted, slowly leaning back and crossing her arms. 

You hadn't meant to look, but the action brought the red top back to your attention. Your eyes dropped to Emily's cleavage, if only for a second. Your mouth went dry as they quickly snapped back up to meet her now amused ones. A coy smile crept onto her face. Emily took a deep breath before speaking again. This time, you knew better, only looking in your peripheral at how her chest raised and fell. 

"You know, earlier, you mentioned the last case was different. How come?" Emily inquired. She'd caught that, huh? You felt trapped as you figured she'd deduced the real reason for your careless actions.  

You didn't speak as Emily rose from her chair, taking slow strides around the desk. She placed a hand on your shoulder, standing behind you and leaning over the other. Goosebumps raised on your arms as you felt her warm breath against your collar. 

"I think I know," she whispered in your ear. You unconsciously craned your neck, allowing her more access. Your heart beat rapidly. The hand on your shoulder slowly trailed down your arm, rubbing up and down. 

"Would you have taken the shot if it had been JJ? Or Spencer? Or maybe you would've taken it if it were Garcia. You're such great friends, after all," Emily's tone was taunting. The rising temperature of the room was quickly becoming unbearable. 

Her free hand reached for your chin, turning your head to face her. She cupped your cheek gently, admiring the sight of your desperation. She'd barely even touched you. Barely implied anything. 

"Is this what your strange behaviour lately has been about?" Emily asked. You bit your lip, not saying a word. She clicked her tongue, getting annoyed at your lack of response.  

"Is this not what you want?" She walked around the chair, standing in front of you. You couldn't give in. You wouldn't be able to stop. Not if she gave you a taste. Your hands remained firmly planted by your side as Emily did the unthinkable. She put her hands on your shoulders and draped her legs over yours, straddling you. Your eyes closed at the sensation of having her so close. 

The weight of her ass on your thighs was delectable. Her hands trailed down your arms, stopping when they rested on yours. She leaned forward, and you had to suppress a groan at the feeling of her chest pushing against yours. She took your hands and brought them around herself, planting them firmly on her bottom. Your entire body was on fire. 

"Look at me," Emily's voice was sultry. You opened your eyes tentatively, immediately dropping them to her lips, which were now dangerously close to yours. She didn't hesitate, kissing you roughly. Her hands came up to cup your face. You finally gave in, properly holding her on your lap as she fervidly kissed you. 

You moved your mouth away from hers, kissing down her jaw and sucking harshly at the skin of her neck. A timid moan came from her lips. You'd never heard a more beautiful sound. Her fingers started unbuttoning your blouse as you continued your attack, creating blemishes that contrasted with her pale skin. Once she got the blouse off, Emily's hands fondled your breasts roughly. 

"Shit, Em..." You sighed. You leaned back against the chair, admiring Emily in all her glory. 

"You look so fucking good in red, you don't even know," you groaned, tugging at the bottom of her shirt. 

"I do know," Emily raised her arms, allowing you to pull the shirt over her head. "That's why I wear it." 

"You drive me crazy, Prentiss," you finally admitted. 

"I think I know the feeling," Emily moaned, taking your hand and crudely stuffing it down her pants. Luckily the waistband was elastic, allowing you to feel the dampness of her underwear as you manoeuvred your wrist to cup her pussy. 

"Fuck... You don't know how many times I've imagined feeling your pussy," you confessed. "I've dreamt of the things I'd do to you." 

Emily groaned as you pushed her panties to the side, feeling the wetness against your fingers. The positioning of your hand might've been awkward, but you didn't care. Emily opted to go for another kiss as you started rubbing her clit. 

The soft noises she made while her tongue was in your mouth were otherworldly. Her hips ground against your hand, desperate for more friction. 

Emily hooked her fingers into the cups of your bra, not bothering to unclasp it, simply tugging them down to free your tits. She left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your neck and chest before taking a nipple between her teeth. 

"Fuck- Emily," you whine. She brought her hand up to your other breast, pinching and biting your nipples in tandem. You retaliated by finally circling your fingers over her entrance, pushing two inside. 

"Oh! Ah- Fuck," Emily exclaimed, throwing her head back. You curled your fingers in the way you did to yourself while thinking of her late at night. Emily reached behind her, placing her hands on the edge of the desk, creating more space for you to do what you had to. 

Emily was becoming less coherent with every pump of your fingers. Your thumb hit her clit harshly with every thrust inside her pussy. Just seeing her come undone like this, on your lap, by your hand, was enough for you to drench your own underwear.

You brought your unoccupied hand to her naked waist, admiring her figure. You couldn't believe you got to see her like this after all this time you spent pining. Her eyes were closed as her chest heaved with heavy breaths. 

"Fuck, don't stop," Emily moaned. Her jaw was slack. Her knuckles turned white as her grip on the desk tightened. You felt her walls constrict around your fingers. You curled them in a come hither motion as you circled her clit with your thumb. 

Emily's arms shook as her moans turned into high-pitched whines, signalling she was getting close. 

"Shit! Oh my god," She exclaimed, followed by a loud moan of your name. It was like music to your ears. 

She rode out her high as she gushed around your fingers. Your free hand drew soothing patterns on her hip, working her through her climax. 

You carefully withdrew your hand from her panties, bringing your fingers to your mouth and sucking them clean. Emily let herself fall back forward, no longer having the strength to hold up her upper body with her arms. 

She took your fingers from your mouth, wrapping her lips around them and sucking seductively. She released them and pushed herself off your lap, tugging you up from your seat. She switched your positions, pushing you against the desk before getting on her knees. 

Emily reached for the button on your pants, undoing it and tugging it down. She tapped your ankle, signalling you to step out of them and spread your legs. It was a bit awkward with your shoes still on, but you made it work. Her fingers left a trail of goosebumps in their wind as she traced them up your leg to your inner thigh. 

She followed the path she'd just drawn with her mouth, hooking her teeth in the waistband of your underwear, laughing as she tugged them down. You smiled at her antics. 

Her mouth returned between your legs, licking a hesitant stripe between your folds. The kitten licks to your clit drove you crazy. 

"Fuck, please, Em," you begged, bringing your hands to her hair. You couldn't feel more lewd, tits out in your boss's office, said boss between your legs eating you out. The scandal of it all only turned you on even more. 

"Can't believe you put your whole job on the line-," Emily scoffed between licks. "-just because you wanted some pussy." 

"Not just some pussy," you moaned as she sucked on your clit. "Yours." 

"Such a horny little thing for your unit chief," Emily mumbled. The vibrations of her words added to your pleasure. 

Your grip on her dark locks tightened as she fucked your entrance with her tongue expertly. You had to put all your weight against the desk to stop your knees from buckling.

"F-fuck, Em. Oh my god," you groaned as she added her fingers to the mix. 

You dared to look down, only to be met with the finest sight the world had to offer. Emily gazed up at you through her lashes, dark eyes blown wide and amused. You could see her free hand was between her legs, stroking herself at the same rhythm she had with her mouth on your cunt. 

God, did you wish you had Reid's memory right about now. 

You didn't know how much longer you could last. Having had the pleasure of feeling her around your fingers, witnessing her expression as she came. It was enough to have you teetering on the edge. 

"Ah, fuck. I'm close," you whimpered. Emily moaned loudly, her pace increasing. Your hips bucked against her mouth, chasing the pleasure. Her hands came up to your sides, holding you in place. 

You had to withhold from forcefully pushing her head closer, desperate for more pressure, more friction, more more more. 

You balled your fists, throwing your head back. The knot in your abdomen tightened, threatening to snap any second. 

"Oh- shit, please." 

"Come for me." It was like she'd pressed a magic button, your climax immediately upon you as she spoke the words. 

"Emily!" You came with a loud cry, grinding your hips against her mouth. It was mindblowing. You'd never come that hard. Emily helped you ride out your high, careful to not overstimulate you. 

She rose from her position on the floor, hands never leaving your body as she got back on eye level. You searched her face for regret as both of you stood there, taking in the situation and catching your breath. 

She leaned in, placing a tender kiss on your lips. You smiled, kissing her back passionately. She helped you redress your upper body, all while never breaking the kiss. 

You separated to pick up your respective discarded pieces of clothing. The atmosphere was light. There was no unresolved tension as you had expected. A mutual understanding had been created. 

Emily grabbed her stuff and walked with you down to the bullpen. "Dinner tomorrow, my place," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," you agreed, putting your things in your bag. 

"For now, go get your go bag out of your car," she instructed, locking the door to her office. 

"Why?" You asked as you walked with her to the elevator. 

"Because you can return the favour and have an early appetizer in my bed tonight." 

#emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x female reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss fanfiction #Emily Prentiss x fem!reader #bau!reader #unit chief!emily #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #Emily Prentiss smut #wlw #wlw smut #sapphic smut #Emily Prentiss #Paget Brewster x reader

[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: Touch

G/N. Soft. I just really like Gun and Physical Touch as a love language

Gun is relentless when you spar together.

Never apologetic for the marks he leaves, the soreness that ails your body. Tells you, matter of fact, the shortcomings with your skills regardless of how much your anger flares.

(Between your ego and your body, you're never sure which is more bruised.)

He takes no prisoners, has never taken any, and doesn't see why he should make an exception for you.

But his touch after is different. His hands are careful, fingers practiced, when he tenderly bandages you. Nurses you to full health again.

(You didn't think a man capable of such violence could hold you with such fragility.)

Caresses, feather light, across your skin. Brushing your cheek with the back of his fingers. Swiping across your lips with his thumb.

Ghost of a touch from the Shiro Oni.

There's nothing like the pressure of his skin on yours.

Heat seeping through. Chest to chest and limbs entwined, seated next to you and thigh pressing against yours.

A firm hand, resting on the small of your back, guiding you; solid warmth placed on your knee; gripping your hips and searing your skin.

It's constant. Gun Park alway seeks contact, and you never expected it.

A small show of possessiveness, claiming you, and telling the whole world you're his.

Of love, of a weakness that he accepts because the alternative, of not being able to touch you, is worse.

#this monstrous murderous blorbo touching you like youre precious. i cant take it #i already have a gun fic called physical touch lol. j really like this trope huh #lookism #lookism x reader #lookism headcanons #lookism hc #lookism fic #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #gun park #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #park jonggun #wannaeatramyeon

[missdaytonawrites]

liar • a. anderson

summary - manny and abby find you alone one night and take you back to the stadium, abby does everything in her power to swallow her feelings about you. even if it means pushing boundaries and lying. (enemies 2 lovers w/ abby's mean ass.)

WC - 4k

cw/tw - 18+ MDNI, post!outbreak abby, mean!abby, afab!reader, talk of guns and infected, seriously abby's unreasonably bitchy, talk of alcohol, abby cannot tell the truth to save her life, dom/sub dynamics, hurt/comfort kinda??? fingering (r! receiving) getting caught (if u squint girl, not really) apologetic!abby. slightly, every-so-barely, for a literal split-second... sub!abs, (mainly sub!r tho..) spitting, tribbing ooooh, abby smokes cigarettes, so does r! apparently, little bit of fluff, i kinda hate the ending?? maybe a pt. II to this will happen idk don't ask lol.

A/N - ..heeey people... here it is!!! i recently (like two days ago recently) gained a pretty serious injury on my pinky toe and i've been literally bed-ridden so i had no choice but to get this out. i love this song, i've heard this song live, this song is so request-this-is-based-on coded so!!!! (*edit* nonnie if u see this i hope u love it mwah) i kid you not i started writing this on the two-hour drive home from the paramore concert and i've just now finished it. i'm super personally proud of this and i will say -- YOU 100% HAVE GOT TO, LISTEN TO THE SONG WHEN YOU READ. with most of my other fics, it's really optional but for this?/!:?):!; put headphones in, turn this song on loop, AND THEN READ!!! it will completely enhance the fic. thanks 4 readin as always, love you crazy bitches.

"love is not an easy thing to admit, but i'm not ashamed of it."

this was fucking gross, the dirt was cold and wet. bordering on mud status and now seeping into the cloth of your shorts & t-shirt as you lay into the earth. you were tired and just needed some rest before you continued on. the old abandoned house you had been using as shelter became over-ran with some infected while you were out one day. so it was back to the forest floor for now.

gross, cold, and wet. the way she had found you, curled up and fast asleep on the ground, she almost wished that she felt bad. she didn’t though, instead for a split second she forgot manny had been following behind her as she took the barrel of her gun to press into the side of your face. she pressed in a little harder and you shot awake at the feeling of something touching your teeth through your cheek. your eyes fly open and they’re met with two shadowy figures above you.

one is a lot larger than the other, the one who had been poking you with the gun crouched down to get a better look at you. through her inspection, manny could be heard behind her muttering something about “we can’t just leave her here, abs.” abby didn’t really care for what he was saying, instead she was silently cursing herself for the emotion that began to crowd her train of thought. abby had toughened herself up enough so these sorts of things wouldn’t happen. she, or the rest of the WLF couldn't afford any emotional attachments. abby didn't need to be going out and developing crushes on sleeping beauties in the woods. yet here she was…

maybe that's why she grew to detest you so severely. treating you so harshly so her mask didn't slip, it was the only way for her. especially the night they found you. she couldn’t even begin to fathom how badly she wanted to just grab you up, take you back to clean you off and keep you safe with the rest of them. instead, she shook you (and manny’s new found excitement, like they found a stray puppy) off, pulling her gun away from your face and stepping about eight feet far from you to speak with manny.

it was back and forth the entire time, manny weighing in all the pros while abby lays out all the cons. true childish banter begins to ensue and abby begrudgingly agrees to bring you back with manny, claiming he’ll “deal with any consequences.” they walk back over to where you lay, awake and pissed. you had just started to fall asleep for fucks sake, “look, you’re coming with us. don't argue and just be grateful that it's we who ran across your ass and not some raider." abby sighs then pinches the bridge of her nose, you would like to argue but the darker haired one looks rather excited for you to be coming, so you bite your tongue for now.

it had been six months since that night… six months of falling in love with your new life at the stadium, six months of manny becoming the closest friend you’ve ever known, six months of training.. six months of a total cold shoulder from abby. you didn't even know if you could call it that, lord knows she never spared her snarky comments towards you at dinner or when the two of you got paired together on runs. always saying something about how you never do anything right, then carrying on while she tells you all the reasons they should've just left you there in the forest to rot.

you take on each day with your head high, trying not to let abby bother you. even if you couldnt seem to crack her fucking issue with you, reminding yourself that everyone else enjoys you and is glad you joined them. especially manny, he was a great pal, always sitting with you at dinner and reading with you. one night he had pulled you out of your book and talked you into having a drink with him, so you did. the two of you passed the bottle back and forth all night, intoxicating yourself enough to blab about abby.

“i just don’t fuckin’ get it, i guess.” taking another swig, you chuckle and hand manny the bottle back. “maybe i just see myself differently than she does.” he looks like he’s thinking and before he can say anything you start again, “does she talk about me? i mean, have i done anything to her that i’m just oblivious to?” manny doesn't say anything, just throws back whatever is left in the whiskey bottle and looks at you sympathetically.

“she doesn't really talk to anyone about things like that, maybe you did.. nobody will ever know.” you sigh and cross your legs. you and manny enjoy the silence for awhile before there’s some shuffling to the side of you two and then just like magic, there’s abby. rearing her mean little head like she heard you twos conversation. much to your chagrin, she did and as she takes her seat next to manny she whacks his shoulder and grumbles something along the lines of “couldn't save any for me..?”

abby's presence captures all of manny's attention while she talks him into going to grab another bottle, you sit uncomfortably and slightly tipsy as she finally convinces him. he gives you a little salute before heading off, leaving you and abby alone. you feel the liquor drop like an anchor in your stomach and your eyelids become heavy, you suddenly aren't sure how much longer you wanna stay.. where did she come from? if she was listening, why? you could have sworn manny said everyone else was out for the night..?

you’re so deep in thought that you don't notice abby has moved closer to you, and has been slowly muttering in your ear this whole time. it isn’t until she is literally snapping her fingers in front of your face, that you pull yourself out of your trance. when you turn to look her in the eyes, you notice just how close she had gotten. taking a sharp breath she starts again, even slower this time, like you wouldn't understand if she were to say it any faster. “i don’t see you differently, i see you for what the fuck you are… n’ i can’t say i’m the biggest fan”

you swallow and feel as if you’ve shrunk beneath her very gaze, “keep my fucking name out of your mouth, got it?” subconsciously scooting away from her, you nod quickly and avert your gaze. she snaps again, and your eyes shoot back to hers. “say it. tell me that you got it through your goddamn head,” and she moves closer. “now!” you squeak out a shaky “got it!” before standing and making your exit. on your leave, you can hear abby laugh at the situation from down the hall.

she has never taken something that far before? you can’t even recall a time she’s been that close to you before. guilt starts to float around you like a cloud above your head. you cannot believe you let her bother you so much that you left without saying a “good night.” or “thank you!” to manny.

flopping face-down on your cot, you conjure an idea; you rummage through all of your belongings to find some pen and paper. you write manny an explanatory note and let him know a little about what happened.

finishing up your letter, you can faintly hear him and abby laughing from your room.

“ah, abs.. you’ll have to get over yourself and tell her eventually.” he sighs and you can hear abby hiss at the thought. “nah man, i’ve already-” and then you remember how shes made you feel before, you decide you’re done eavesdropping and suddenly decide to no longer give manny the piece of paper you had been writing him. crumpling the note, you throw it at the wall and lay down to read.

an entire two weeks pass, you can confidently say you’ve not once thought about abby. her lack of kindness fails to phase you as the days pass. you’ve stopped eating with the group, opting for meals in your room instead. you’ve only really talked with manny only enough to ensure you and abby aren't partnered up for anything. it was smooth sailing for another two weeks, a whole fucking month passes and you cannot believe she’s really left you alone. you honestly didn't think she was capable, but alas, she hadn't even barely looked your way. you can’t help but let your mind race before you sleep about why? was she respecting your request? had manny scolded her? you remembered what manny had told you and settled with the fact that you’d never know.

one night, as you make your bed and pack your bag for the week, there's a quick rasp of knuckles on your door. “heeeeey! i know you’re in here, let me in.” manny, and he sounded drunk. unlocking the door and rolling your eyes, he stumbles in and flops down on your freshly made cot. “we have got to taaaalk..” he hiccups and rolls over to face you, “i need to know, please-” burping and then bursting out in laughter he rubs his eyes and sits up. “what reeealllyy happened that ni-ght.” you didn't think you could roll your eyes back any further than they did at that very moment, practically dismissing him you say: “i don't know what you’re talking about, what night?” burping, he looks at you like you’ve lost it, “c’mon, don't do that. i just want to know if she's telling me the truth…”

in that moment, your head whips around and you’re sure your eyes bugged out of your head. “the truth? what did she say happened?” manny matches the shocked expression on your face for a split second and then erupts in laughter, you worry for what he’s about to say. “look, don’t let this- this, don't tell her i said this.” swallowing and moving closer to him, you sit on the cot with manny while he tells you this extravagant story all about what “happened” that night.

apparently, that night, you told abby to her face that you thought she had a problem with you. apparently, on that same night you also caught an attitude with abby and got in her face. apparently, you stormed off in a drunken rage after allegedly jumping all over her case.

furious, you were so fucking mad. there were simply no words in the goddamned english dictionary to fathom how angry you were with her. she lied! right through her teeth! to manny of all people! about you! there was no holding back anymore, returning to the moment, you spare no gory details as you tell manny what really happened. to say the least? he wasnt very happy, you told him you were scared of her and didnt say anything sooner because you swore to “keep her fucking name out of your mouth.”

the conversation sobered manny up enough for him to apologize on abby's behalf and then exit rather quickly, leaving you to go to bed. you just can’t justify falling asleep, though. not until you make a plan, to your knowledge abby has no reason to be treating you the way she is; the only thing to do now is talk to her. you can be civil, at this point you just need to know why. so in a futile attempt to sleep, you rehearse with yourself what you’re going to say to abby tomorrow.

you wake up to bright sun, bam, right there in your eyes. you practically hiss and you turn away from your window, regaining your vision when your senses are flooded with an overwhelming scent of pine… you thought you were having a stroke, so you sit up and take in your surroundings. upon further inspection, and the realization that you’re definitely not having a stroke, you look around your space and low and behold..

there’s abby. hair falling loosely about her shoulders, still in her pajamas, sitting there just as annoying as the sun. you see her and glare, the tone of your morning immediately shifts and you turn away from her the same way you did with the morning light. grumbling something at her about how she needs to leave and how you two would do this later. you thought your point had been made until she grabs your arm and stops you from laying back down.

“look, i seriously can’t do this anymore.” she pulls you hard enough that you’re sitting up again. “i feel so fucking guilty, i don’t think i could even put it into words.” you almost laugh in her face, actually. “can’t do what anymore, abby? walk around and spew nothing but hate for me?” you realize how close she is and you reach out to shove her. putting some distance between the two of you, she opens her mouth to speak again but you interrupt her. “is it the whole lying to manny thing that made the guilt finally kick in, anderson?”

she returns to her spot in the chair on the far side of your room and sits, she chews her cheek while you rub your eyes. “don’t got anything to say now, huh?” she looks at you like she wants you to finish.. so you do. “i told you to go away, abby. we could’ve handled this later.” she stands up and walks over, sitting and occupying the empty space on your mattress next to you.

“i can’t keep living like this. fuck, fuck!” she shouts and stands, wiping her hands on her forehead. “i don’t know how to do this, and you aren't making it any easier.” you are genuinely astonished, in utter disbelief that she’s the angry one and that you’re gonna have to spell this out for her. “how about sorry? maybe go tell manny yourself that you are a fucking liar?!”

in that very moment, smoke might as well of blown out of her ears like a damn cartoon, “yeah. a liar.” she huffs and sits again. “lied to manny, lied about wanting you to keep my name out of your mouth.. lied about hating you.”

your jaw dropped, mouth literally hanging open as she continues, “i don’t know why, there’s no excuse. i am so fucking sorry.” she moves closer to you and puts her hand on your arm, gentler this time. “i haven’t said this to anyone in years, but i think i love you.” gazing down to her hand on you, then back up to her eyes you swallow the lump sitting in your throat. you don’t know what to say.

“abby, i,” you sigh and chew your lip, “i wish i knew what to say, this is all-” and then her hand moves up, silencing you when her thumb swipes over the expanse of your lips and then rests at the corner of your mouth. she leans into you and offers you two more words, “don’t talk..” then closes the gap between you two.

your lips are like heaven, everything she could have ever wanted. every night when she would fall asleep dreaming of them, this is it and more. she feels like she is fucking floating. she doesn't know what to do with her hands; they tangle in your hair, slide and touch your arms and then come up to cup your cheeks while she pushes into you impossibly further.

she breaks the kiss every now and then to mutter an “i’m sorry.. m’so so sorry, baby.” pulling away completely to admire you. she’s panting so heavily as she goes to pull your tank top up and off, immediately ducking down to take a nipple into her mouth. the cool air of your room hits you, head rolling back and around when you peer down at her, she locks eyes with you. pulling off you with a pop, she comes back up to kiss you again. except this time, its not a makeout, just short desperate pecks all over your face while she hurries to get your shorts off of you.

you help her out and shimmy out of them, completely bare, you fall back on your elbows and spread your legs for her. she lets out a low whistle and shakes her head, chuckling as she whispers, “goddamn foolish to deny myself of this..” bringing her middle and ring finger to rub circles around you.

she moves them down and pushes the two into you, twisting and curling them against your walls. you gasp and drop your head again, hands balling up into fists. abby notices your open mouth and kisses you again, pushing her tounge into your mouth and really fucking kisses you. her free hand rolls your nipple and then wraps in your hair, exposing your neck for her to suck and bite. “pussy’s so good..” whispering against your neck, fingers still fucking you while crude sounds bounce and echo off your walls.

she pulls her fingers out and hovers them over your clit. she looks down at your dripping center, wets her lips, and then looks back at you. “may i?” she asks and brings her fingers to her mouth to taste. her eyes knock to the back of her head and she brings her fingers down to rub you some more, “god, please let me, baby”

while you barely manage to moan out a response abby has already wondrously found her way down to your core, latching herself to your clit. she groans into you while your hips instinctively buck into her mouth. as if the sensation of her devouring you wasn't enough, her fingers plunge into you. writhing beneath her, your hands find a home in abby’s hair; and if her head weren’t literally between your legs, you would have stopped to comment on how soft her blonde locks are.

abby continues to fuck you with her fingers when all of the sudden, her mouth is pulling off of your pussy and delving into your lips yet again. the contact has you whimpering and an unfamiliar heat sizzles in your lower belly. you pull away from the kiss in attempts to speak, but to no avail as she simply just follows you back and keeps kissing you. “don’t run from it, baby.. don’t run from me.” she pulls away from your face and drives her fingers into you, fast and mean and determined.

your breathing quickens and you’re suddenly so much more aware of the way she's leaning over you, the darkness in her eyes, the way she’s heaving as she watches your body react to her touch. you’re close, so, so indescribably close to the edge; just about to explode beneath her when.. knock knock knock!

“abs?! you guys in there?” manny, banging on your door to innocently check the status of you two’s “making up.” abby’s eyes flicker down to yours and her free hand flys to her own lips, pressing a single finger to them, hushing you. “i got this, stay quiet.” she whispers and gives you a peck then clears her throat. “yeah man! we’re all good, just talkin’!” she shouts at him, never once slowing her pace while your orgasm just bubbles within you.

manny laughs, “cool, cool. just wanted to make sure you aren't like.. murdering her or anything.” abby laughs this time, murdering something else for sure, and lets him know you two will be out soon enough. you hear his footsteps trail off, and without a second to think, abby’s kissing you again. you whine against her lips and she coos, practically begging you to cum on her fingers.

“let go, give it to me baby, please.” your legs spasm and she chuckles, bringing her thumb to your clit as you gush onto her fingers. hips circling and following the movements of her thumb while you ride it out, abby watches in amazement. she removes her fingers from you as you come down, and makes quick work of her own bottoms. discarding them on the floor, she grabs one of your legs for leverage and swings one of her own over your torso. positioning her pussy right over your own, she trails a line of kisses down your calf and to your knee. resting her forehead against your leg and huffing when she finally grinds down into you.

your mouth falls agape, and you reach to touch her; any of her. her arms, her hips, her chest. gasping while she bites the meaty part of your calf, you buck into her and she throws her head back at the increased friction.

“such a good girl, y’know that..? so fucking good..” her hips rut back and forth and sweat drips from her forehead and runs down your leg. looking down at where the two of you connect, abby spits on to the both of you and fucks you harder. she’s the one to whine this time, so fucking pent up from living with you for fucking months and not already doing this. guilt starts to grow heavy in her stomach again and she whimpers then kisses your ankle, folding your leg to rest against her shoulder. she looks down at you and cups you face, clit still rubbing against you. “m’sorry.. fuck.” she grips your face harder and her pace quickens, incoherently mumbling out apologies and you feel your second orgasm start to swirl.

you shush at her and move your own hips quicker to keep up, “no, no abby, please..” she throws her head back again and her hands move to grope at your tits, you look up at her with forgiving eyes. nodding, as if to telepathically tell her that it's okay. that you want this and that you forgive her, she nods back and groans as loud as you’ve ever heard. you lightly tap her bicep and bring her back to the moment. whimpering, “gonna cum again, abs, please..”

she breathes and nods her head again, “m’almost there baby, almost..” sniffling, she really pushes down into you and her hips falter just slightly. “want you to cum with me, ‘kay?” she keeps fucking herself against you and you tremble, trying to move with her but you’re too lost in pleasure.

she winces and bucks her hips criminally fast; ushering you, and herself, to finally let go. she pants and sweats above you, her own orgasm crashing into her while you cling to her for dear life. pathetically writhing into her as you begin to unravel yourself. melting back into the bed sheets as she rides the both of you through your highs. her hips begin to slow and she’s kissing up and down your leg again. nudging her nose against your thigh, with a finalizing and triumphant breath.

you slowly creep back into reality and feel abby's weight shift off and away from you, just barely noticing her shimmy her shorts back up. she wobbles out of the room and returns with a damp towel, wiping the two of you down. she lets you lay and rest while she digs in her shorts pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, she takes one out and lights it, and then crawls into bed with you.

she tucks you under her arm and wraps your blanket around you both, taking a long drag from her smoke and flicking the ash somewhere to her side. exhaling and turning the cigarette towards you, she slides the filter between your lips and lets you get a good pull.

it stays this way for a while, quiet and still. wrapped up in eachother, you two finish the smoke together and she puts it out right on your concrete floor. she pulls you in even closer and kisses your head. you sigh and close your eyes, saying it back for the first time, “i love you too, abby.”

jeeeeez, editing this was sooo headache-flavored. anyway! happy reading! wish me a decent recovery, and also?? lmk if you guys want a more in-depth story behind my fucked-up toe or pictures for that matter lol!!!

#abby anderson #the last of us fanfiction #sapphic #tlou fic #abby anderson smut #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson angst #tlou fandom #tlou 2 smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson imagine #abby the last of us #abby x you

[friendship-ditch]

Training

(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: You meet Katniss while training to be a soldier.

Warnings: Some light swearing and lightly described injuries. (SFW)

Word count: 2879

Having spent most of your life working the markets of District 12, you weren’t the best fighter, and you hardly knew how to wield a sword. Although your life had been full of poverty, it was also full of peace. That was why you were surprised when informed that you would be drafted as an emergency soldier for the rebellion on the side of District 13.

You progressed your way from dummies to other trainees, but the breathing beings were much more ferocious than the sacks of old flour. You’d been training for a week and hadn’t won a single duel yet.

After your third loss, you left to nurse your wounds and practice on your own again. You wrapped your shoulder and lost track of time. It was far past dinner and you finally stopped when you heard a clatter.

That was when you noticed somebody else was here too.

You abandoned your training and went in search of the sound. In the small arena beside you, you noticed another girl around your age.

The girl's hair was tied into a side braid, bow clutched tightly between her fingers. She was shooting effortlessly at the holograms, taking down one after one with ease. When the training session ended she turned over her shoulder and noticed you watching.

You felt a heat creep up your neck and spread across her cheeks as your eyes locked with her gray ones. They were cold and reserved, but not angry.

“Sorry.” You stuttered, stepping away from the wall. “I thought I was the only one here. You’re amazing.”

By some miracle the girl didn’t seem bothered. She slung her bow over her shoulder and came over towards you. As she stood a few feet away from you it finally clicked in your head who she was.

“I’m uh—I’m y/n.” You stammered, suddenly not wanting to meet her eyes in case you blabbered on.

Standing in front of you was not just any girl, but Katniss, Katniss Everdeen; The Mockingjay; The Girl on Fire; The girl who fueled a rebellion with just a few berries.

She was practically a celebrity down here in 13, and once upon a time back in childhood you may have even called her a friend. You were sure she didn’t remember that.

Was she always this beautiful?

“Katniss.” The girl said with a nod. She eyed you curiously for a moment, the smallest flicker of recognition in her eyes but she said nothing about it. In fact, she didn’t say much at all.

You nodded too, unsure what else to do. This was quickly turning awkward.

“You’ve been training for a while.” Katniss finally states. It’s a weird thing to say, but it’s a true observation. She then points to the wrapped wound on your shoulder. “Is that new?”

That blush sparkled across your skin again, this time from embarrassment rather than awe.

“Yeah. I’m… I’m not the best fighter, so I’m just training.” You explain. “They’re going to draft me as an emergency soldier.”

“Then you should definitely train more. You need it.”

The bluntness of her statement drew out a frown across your lips. “Thanks.” You mumbled, even more embarrassed than before.

Katniss seemed to realize what she said and gave you an apologetic look, though she said nothing else on the topic. She checked the time and then hung her bow on the wall.

“I have to go. You should rest, you won’t help anybody by wearing yourself out.”

You watched silently as she left the room and turned the light off. Katniss was a lot more stuck in her own world than you remembered, but she was just as good with a bow as ever.

The next day you came early to training and worked your ass off for an extra hour but it still didn’t work. You were as good with a gun as a mouse, you couldn’t even get an arrow to shoot the right direction from a bow, and a 2 year old would’ve been better with a knife. The only reason you hadn’t been brutally murdered in training yet was that you knew how to dodge and escape mostly unscathed, but that wouldn’t do you good in a real battle.

Every failure was just increasingly more frustrating and you were debating on signing yourself up as a human shield instead.

Finally, you gave up. You dropped the bow and sank to the floor with a loud groan.

“You’re holding it wrong.”

The voice snapped you out of your self pity and you lifted your head towards the sound, finding a surprise.

Katniss stood at the entrance to the small arena, her own bow in hand and quiver strapped to her back. She was a little sweaty but seemed just as alert as ever.

“Your hand is too low.” Katniss continued as she stepped in. She pulled her bow off of her back and held it up to demonstrate.

You watched wide eyed with curiosity.

When Katniss handed you your own bow, you hesitantly took it and tried to copy her example.

“Like this?”

The other girl let out a soft chuckle. She set her hand on top of yours, her fingers were warm. She gently moved your hand up just a little. “Yes, like this.”

You slowly nodded and did as she said, holding the bow her way. It did feel easier.

“There you go.” Katniss nodded with approval. She helped you up to your feet and offered you an arrow. “Now, aim and shoot.”

Her breath was hot and tickled the side of your neck, making your heart stampede. She helped you prepare, her hand still over yours. As you angled and aimed the bow, she nodded.

“Shoot.”

The command snapped you back to reality. You let the arrow fly and missed the target by more than a few feet. So much for getting better. Now you felt like even more of a letdown.

“Sorry.” You muttered, ashamed of yourself.

Katniss shook her head and handed you another arrow. “Don’t be. Nobody gets it perfect on their first try.”

You didn’t get it on your second try either, or your third, but you were getting closer. Finally, on your fourth try, the arrow hit the edge of the target and not the wall behind it.

Katniss congratulated you with a rare smile and helped you a few more times until you continuously hit the target.

“Now keep practicing like that. You’ll get it soon enough, you have good form.” Katniss explained, letting her hair out of her braid. She’d taken a seat on a bench to watch you shoot. “And remember to rest, you’re no use as a worn out soldier.”

You couldn’t help but smile too.

The next few days, Katniss continued to give you shooting lessons, and became less reserved. When you started to always hit the target straight on, she began to teach you how to hit moving targets.

“Keep your focus on them. Don’t aim for where they are, aim for where they will be.” Katniss breathed against the back of your head. One of her hands was on your shoulder, the other on your elbow as she slowly turned you with the hologram.

You did what she said, looking ahead of the hologram. When it was moments away from your gaze, you released the arrow. It shot right into the target.

Katniss gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Great!”

You looked up at her just as she looked down and her chin bumped into your forehead. As if the way she was holding you and how she stood a few inches taller than you wasn’t already making your heart flutter, that certainly did it.

“Sorry.” She blurted out, stepping away. You missed her warmth already.

“It’s alright, it didn’t hurt.” You assured her quickly. “Thank you for teaching me, I really think I’m getting somewhere now! I’m the best shooter in my whole group!”

That made Katniss beam with pride and instead of saying something, she responded with a hug, and a tight one at that.

“I’m so proud of you.” She whispered happily, resting her chin atop your head without any pain this time. She hugged you close.

You couldn’t help but melt into her embrace and hug her back as tight as you could. It had been a long time since anybody had ever hugged you in this manner and it just felt so good, especially since Katniss was the one doing it.

When you broke away from the hug, you couldn’t help the bright blush on your face but luckily she didn’t seem to notice.

“Well, I think I’ve taught you all there is about how to use and work a bow.” Katniss told you, unaware of the way that made your heart sink. “I think my work here is done.”

“Do you know how to use a sword?” You asked rapidly the second she was done speaking. “Or a knife? Or just… anything else? I suck at just about every weapon out there.”

Katniss let out a sharp sigh and shook her head. “No, not well enough to teach you at least.”

An unconcealable frown broke out across your face and you slowly nodded. That was probably for the best anyway, Katniss most likely had better things to do then train you at odd hours of the night. But you didn’t want to lose her yet. You two never hung out or talked anywhere else but this was like your own little world together. You frowned even more and sighed.

“But… we could take a lesson together.” Katniss prompted the question hesitantly, as if you’d deny her. “If you want. I think learning more hand to hand things would help me as well.”

The permanent frown on your face was replaced with an even bigger smile and you nodded with glee.

The next day, the two of you signed up for a class together that would teach you the basics, give you each a wooden stick, and then let you at it. Katniss warned you beforehand that she could be a bit competitive and you took that challenge with a grin.

“I thought your aim was supposed to be good!” You called out teasingly as she swung at you and missed, hitting the wall. If there was anything you were actually good at on your own, it was dodging.

Katniss didn’t appreciate the tease. “You’re moving too quickly!” She shouted back, lunging at you again.

You stepped back and her stick smacked right into yours. You two had been at it for about an hour and were both sweaty and dirty. You were actually having fun, dodging and using your height as an advantage. Katniss was not and growing more and more pissed every time you ran. You couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“Maybe you should strike faster!” You exclaimed, blocking another one of her attacks and swiping at her feet. “Or just, I don’t know, be better?”

Katniss groaned and lunged again. This time she managed to take a jab at you and was coming back for seconds. She raised her stick high and struck.

The only reason you weren’t smacked in the head was that you frantically swung your stick back at her, and clocked her right in the nose.

“Shit! Katniss!” You exclaimed. Both of your sticks clattered to the ground at the same time as she stumbled backwards and you ran to her side.

Giving your trainer and now friend a bloody nose wasn’t on your schedule at all.

Katniss had a hand clamped over her nose, blood filling her palm as she winced and groaned. Tears were brimming in her eyes but she was fighting to keep them back.

“I’m so sorry!” You blurted out. You brought her over to the first aid station and held ice against her nose until it stopped bleeding.

Finally, Katniss looked up at you after she wiped the last bit of blood away. Instead of the expected anger in her eyes, there was actually a small glint of humor.

“I thought you said you weren’t good with combat.” She said, in a surprisingly teasing voice.

“I’m not. I just panicked. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Katniss assured you, a smile teasing her lips. She rubbed the side of her nose. “I’ll just have a big bruise on my face for a week or two.”

When you realized she was messing with you, you couldn’t help but laugh and sit beside her.

“I think tomorrow, you and I should meet here, and you should train me.” Katniss told you, her voice now serious. “It’s only fair, right?”

You felt a little spark of hope in your chest and grinned. “Right.”

And so the next day you were at it again. You spent a lot of the time just teaching Katniss how to dodge, and in turn, she gave you a few tips on aim.

You’d also upgraded to an arena with some obstacles to heighten the risk.

Running after Katniss, you chased her up a rock. You were laughing but also focused; a little too focused. Katniss stopped at the top and you ran right into her, causing the two of you to topple to the ground, you landing right on top of her.

You two looked at each other, chest to chest, and faces both flushed. You were too stunned to move and Katniss had gotten the wind knocked out of her so she wasn’t able to talk.

Eventually you both just started to laugh. You stayed on top of her, shaking your head and giggling.

Finally she spoke up. “Alaina, you’re making my leg numb.” Katniss groaned teasingly. “My whole body is numb now.”

You blushed even more and rolled off of her and sat up. She sat up beside you, still panting.

“I need a minute.” Katniss breathed. Her head slowly found its way onto your shoulder as she tried to catch her breath.

You sat quietly, even more flustered by the way she was leaning into you. You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and waited until she felt okay enough to stand back up.

“Don’t go apologizing yet, you’ll regret it after I beat your ass.” Katniss said as she picked her stick back up, a grin on her face. She wasn’t done, not yet.

You were surprised by her persistence but grinned back at her. “You’ll be the one begging for your life when your ass is flat on the ground.”

The two of you spent the next half hour training and sparring, eventually giving up when you were beaten and bruised.

You sat beside Katniss on the bench, wrapping up the gash on her arm with some medical tape. You were exhausted from fighting, but you didn’t want the night to end either.

“There you go.” You sealed the tape off and pressed a soft kiss to the wound. You didn’t realize what you did until it already happened and you blushed bright red. “Sorry. My mother always did that to me.. She said it made the wounds hurt less.”

“It worked.” Katniss told you, looking over her shoulder at you. “But I think you missed.”

Confusion clouded your gaze. “What do you mean?”

“You missed.” Katniss repeated, flipping her whole body to face you. She took your hand and lifted it up to her face, using your finger to point at her lips. “You missed by a lot actually, I think we need to work on your aim.”

You could’ve fainted on the spot. Your heart raced in your chest and you grew even redder. Was she… Did she really ask you to kiss her? There was no way this was happening. She couldn’t have felt the same way you did.

Katniss watched your confusion with amusement. She took your hand and pointed it to your lips.

“May I? I think I should demonstrate this too.” She murmured softly.

You could only nod, the words stuck in your throat.

Katniss smiled softly and her lips met yours with ease. The kiss was short and sweet, but something you had been longing for so badly. You smiled too and then kissed her again, and then once more for good measure.

Finally, Katniss pulled away, her hand finding yours once more but just holding it this time. She smiled lovingly at you, her face red.

There was no way you could let her win this. You two had built up a competitive streak over the last few weeks and you weren’t going to let it off here.

“How about one more round?” You asked, picking up your stick. “And then, you come back to my room, and I’ll fix your wounds there.”

Katniss blushed even more but her eyes glimmered. She let out a laugh. “You think I’ll have more wounds by then? You’re that good?”

You laughed too and helped her to her feet. “I’m not sure, but I’m sure you’d want me to kiss every single one of them either way.”

“You bet.”

The two of you returned to the arena, eagerly awaiting what would come after the spar, and knowing that your lips wouldn’t just stick to her wounds.

#katniss everdeen x reader #katniss everdeen x you #katniss everdeen x fem!reader #fem!reader #katniss everdeen #the hunger games #catching fire #the mockingjay #katniss everdeen fic #2 fics already guys I’m on a roll

[agentmarcuspike]

"is there a reason you're naked in my bed?" part 3

(gif by @pascalsky)

cw: neighbor!dbf!joel x f!reader, smut, manipulation, misogyny (sorry), dubcon (but it's ok), penetration, oral m and f recieving, gun present, implied underage sex but it's not really, threats of violence, uhhh jumping from a roof? synopsis: you're on a terrible date and call your neighbor joel for help. he helps you out in more ways than one... a/n: this is my first attempt at smut, please be nice w.c. 3k lmao

part one + two + four

You try not to roll your eyes as your date, Jack, blabbers on about how much make-up turns him off, how he prefers his women natural, and how much of a womanizer he is.

The whole evening has been like this, only interrupted by him sending his friends at an adjacent table looks saying, "Oh yeah. Look at this catch. I'm gettin’ sum tonight." As if you're not sitting right in front of him and have eyes. 

"I'm just saying," Jack continues, and you force yourself to listen. "There’s beauty in youth and innocence, right? Like, any man who says he wouldn’t choose 18 over 25 is lying," He looks so full of himself, leaning back in his chair, spreading his scrawny legs as much as possible. 

You want nothing more than to knock this guy off his high fucking horse and teach him some sort of lesson. Scare the creep and cockiness out of him. You've been mulling it over all night, pretending to listen to his awful misogyny, and you have a vague idea about what you could do, but it involves taking him home, and you're not sure it's worth it.

"Sure," you lie. "A lock that can be opened by many keys versus a key that opens many locks et cetera." The remark is meant to challenge him, but he bites.

"Right! You get it!" He leans forward on his elbows. "You know, I rarely meet girls as smart as you. Females can't usually," He taps a finger to his temple. "keep up with me."

That almost makes you laugh out loud. Who does this guy think he is? But you bite your tongue and smile politely, as he snaps his fingers at a waitress. 

"Hey!" he all but yells. "I'd like to pay for the little lady and myself." You want to wipe the satisfied grin off his face, but instead you send an apologetic look to the poor waitress, and excuse yourself.

In the bathroom you take out your phone and set your plan into action.

YOU: I need your help.JOEL: Where's the body? YOU: On its way to your bedroom. JOEL: Key’s outside.

All of the lights in Joel’s house are off as you approach, and you’re crossing your fingers in your pockets, hoping that means he understood your vague explanation over the phone. 

"So…" You turn to Jack and gesture up at your neighbor’s house. "This is me!"

He raises his brows, impressed. "Wow," he replies. "You live here? On your own?"

"Mhm," you humor him through a smile threatening to escape as a laugh. He grabs your hand pulling you towards him, but as he leans in to push his lips to yours, you swerve.

"Quick, before the neighbors see," You grab his hand and lead him up the stairs to porch, squatting down by the door mat. The key is there. You flash Jack a quick smile, before turning to unlock Joel’s front door.

Back in Joel Miller’s bedroom. Everything just as you last saw it. He really wasn’t joking about not changing the sheets, you think, as you plop yourself down on the mattress.

Jack is quick to follow, throwing himself at you. His hands are all over the place, squeezing your tits way too hard, sucking himself onto your lips like a vacuum cleaner. You can barely get out of his grip enough to stop him from tearing at your shirt.

"You first," you say, out of breath, and he pulls his shirt over his head. He's... for lack of a better word, ripped. Breathing strained, he's flexing his washboard abs at you, and you're more impressed with the amount of time he must have spent working on it, than you are turned on. "Pants too."

He stands up, quickly undressing, before he starts pulling at your skirt. Ideally, you wouldn't let it go this far, preferring to not let him touch you at all, but he has already pulled your skirt and panties off, and placed himself between your legs on the bed.

"Want me to go down on you?" he grins. "I'm really good at it."

You disguise your laugh as a cough. "No that's fine, I'm good."

As if he didn't hear you, he disappears between your thighs, and starts lapping at you, slightly above the right spot.

"You like that?" he asks you, almost immediately. You don't.

"Mhm," you manage, biting down on your lips to stop from laughing at the absurdity of this guy's unjustified confidence in his own abilities.

“Your body is amazing,” he says, but before you can thank him, he continues, “like a solid 7/10. If you shaved, you’d be an eight.”

Thank God he’s too busy doing whatever it is he’s doing down there, because you can only gape and roll your eyes at the backhanded compliment.

After about a minute of slurping, he asks you if you're close yet, and you just can't keep it in anymore. You let out a snort, and he looks up at you confused, but only for a second, because the next thing you know, Joel Miller bursts through the door.

Armed with a rifle.

"Get the fuck out of my house," he yells. Jack leaps to his feet, quickly gathering his clothes.

"Oh shit," he whispers, looking to you for help. You cover your mouth to hide your grin, playing along.

"Daddy!" you yelp.

"That's right," Joel replies, placing his foot on Jack's crumpled up jeans, just as the owner is about to reach for them. "That's my baby girl you're trying to fuck.”

Jack steps away, unsure of what to do. "I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't— I didn't know..." he mumbles. "Wait, how old are you?" He turns to you, hands in the air.

You feign innocence, thinking of the most scandalous number you could get away with. "16...?"

His eyes widen and he swallows harshly. "I'll leave right now."

"Yeah you will."

Joel stares him down, making no signs of moving from the doorway he's occupying. Jack looks back and forth between the two of you, unsure of what to do, before Joel breaks the silence again. "You can use the window." he cocks his head towards the second story window at the end of the room.

"What?" Jack looks at you again, genuine concern in his eyes. He takes a moment too long to move, because Joel yaps again, pointing the rifle at the half naked man.

"Move!"

And towards the window he goes. He pushes it open, one leg outside, looking back at you for support you’re not going to give him. Then he meets Joel's threatening stare, and climbs all the way out on the gable. Joel walks towards the window, watching as Jack slides down the roof, yelping as his feet hit the ground underneath.

Joel throws his jeans and shoes out after him. "And don’t come back!" he bellows.

You're still laughing when he puts the rifle down and turns towards the bed.

"Too much? S'not loaded," he assures you.

"Kinda wish it had been," you giggle back.

He snickers and sits down next to you. You've covered yourself with his sheets but feel strangely at ease considering how undressed you are in front of him.

"You doin' alright?" With his brows furrowed at you, he looks genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you smile reassuringly. He smiles back and lays down on top of the covers. “It was funny.”

"Did I come in here too early?"

"No, you came in way too late," you laugh. It didn't bother you too much, but deep down you wish you had been interrupted before the asshole put his mouth on you.

"Oh..." Joel looks away, and you wonder if it's the light, or if he's actually blushing. "So, you... Did you... Finish already?"

It takes you a second to realize what he's talking about, and then you laugh again. "No, oh my god, no!"

You cover your face with your hands as you giggle, embarrassed, and feel the bed shift under his weight as he moves. When you look back up, he's right next to you.

Joel carefully brushes your hair behind your ear and leans down to plant a kiss on your shoulder. Goosebumps appear down your arms, and you shuffle under the bedsheet, feeling a rush to the pit of your stomach.

"Do you want to? Finish?" The question should have caught you off guard, Mr. Miller being your dad's friend, your neighbor through most of your childhood. But it doesn't. You already know you want to.

You nod slowly, and feel your breathing get heavier, as Joel's hand moves the covers away. You're still wearing your shirt, but you feel more naked than you have been all night.

Joel's hand continues down your thigh, caressing and squeezing lightly, and you press your legs together to alleviate some of the pressure building between them. Then he looks up at you, placing his other hand on your cheek, and leans in. For him you don't swerve.

His lips touch yours lightly, only a delicate brush, before he kisses you harder, properly. The force of the feelings arising in you takes your breath away, and you fall backwards onto the mattress. Joel follows, without breaking the kiss, landing carefully on top of you. As your mouths explore each other, you open your legs, inviting him between them.

The jeans covering his bulging erection is rubbing against your own growing need, and you could get off just like that, but you suspend it by shoving your hand between the two of you, cupping him. He groans into your mouth, just as you gasp into his at the feel of his size under your palm.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, moving one of his big hands to explore your chest.

“Been thinkin’ about you. About these.” He gives the breast in his hand a light squeeze, covering your neck and collarbone in light kisses.

“Been thinking about you too, Miller,” you sigh back at the sensation. “For years.”

He stops for a second, and you can feel him smile against your skin. Oh God, what did you just say.

“Years? Really?”

You can feel yourself blushing, the blood previously between your legs now in your face. Why did you say that?! You suppress the need to get up and knock your head against a wall over and over again.

Joel’s kisses continue, moving down to your belly.

“Fucking cliché,” he looks up at you, grinning like a devil.

“Well,” His mouth is at your inner thigh now, giving it a careful bite. “I guess dreams really do come true.”

And then his tongue meets your wetness, moving through your folds, from your core to your clit, in one long movement. Your hands grip at his dark curls, as he repeats the motion, dragging soft moans from you.

Joel looks up at you again. “He didn’t do it like this, did he?” he says, mouth full of poise and pussy. His soft lips swipe your clit, and you stifle a laugh as you shake your head. No, he didn’t. No one has.

The hard tip of his tongue caresses your swollenness, and you can see him moving a hand down to clutch at his own. The thought of him touching himself makes you even wetter. You long to see him, to feel him inside of you.

“Joel,” you moan, as you near your finish, but you don’t want to go there yet.

He looks up at you, only his dark eyes visible over your pubic bone.

“Joel, I want you.”

He laughs softly at that. “You’re having me right now, baby,” His thumb rubs at your center as he says it, causing you to grasp at the bedsheets. Not yet, not yet.

“I want you inside of me.”

He pauses, giving your sex a final taste before he sits back on his heels.

“I bet you do,” he says as he removes his belt and opens the zipper of his jeans. They’re strained around his hardness, and you sit up to knead his bulge, looking up at him with eyes full of compliance. He pulls his jeans and boxers down for you, his hard cock springing free, and you gasp at the sight of him.

He chuckles at your reaction, but makes no comment, other than pumping himself carefully a few times, nudging it towards your face.

“Come on, now”, he says, and you get closer. “Give it a kiss, get to know it.”

It’s not like you haven’t done it before, but you’ve never wanted to like this. You kiss the head of his cock, before grabbing the base with your hand, placing little kisses all over his shaft as well, prolonging the tease. From the soft moans it elicits from him, you suspect he wants it as much as you do.

Joel’s own hand comes to join yours around him, carefully parting your lips with the head, silently urging you to quicken. So you go all in at once. You open your mouth, taking him as far back as you can, triggering your gag reflex, making your mouth fill with spit. He groans loudly at that.

“F-fuck,” he sighs, throwing his head back. “Holy shit, girl”.

You smile, mouth full of him, and give him a few strokes with your fist while waiting for your mouth to re-fill with saliva. You go at him again, this time pumping him into your wet pit, head bobbing back and forth over him.

His hands grab at your hair, almost holding you back with the force of his grip on you.

“Careful, angel, careful,” he stutters. “You’re driving me insane.”

Joel moves his hand to your jaw and carefully drags you off of him with a soft pop.

He pushes you back down on your back, his naked groin against your own, lowering the rest of his clothed body down to whisper in your ear.

“This what you want?”

You swallow harshly, the taste of his dick still in your mouth. “Yes. Yes.”

“Yeah?” he repeats, teasing your opening. His eyes search for yours, and you meet his thirsty gaze.

“I want you.”

It’s the confirmation he needs. He pushes inside of you, the stretch of his girth stinging pleasantly as he opens you up. A grunt escapes him as he bottoms you, and you yelp at the sensation. “Ah!”

He pauses and looks at you. “You good?”

You are. “Yeah, it’s just a lot.” you admit. “You’re… big.”

He grins at that. “Just tell me what’s too much, baby.”

Grabbing his hips and pushing him back in, you grind against him. “Slow,” you say.

“However you want it, princess.”

He cages your head with his strong arms, the ones you’ve been secretly pining for when you’ve caught him mowing the lawn bare-chested through the years, and you squeeze his bicep, your other hand grabbing his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. He groans into your mouth as he lets you work him slowly in and out of you, and he pushes his tongue into you as well, filling you up where you’ve so desperately craved him.

You move your hand down to touch your throbbing clit, sighing as relief washes over you. You’re so close, you can feel yourself pulse around Joel’s cock.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” he coaxes. “You’re choking my cock so good.”

His words of encouragement send you over the age, and your back arches as you reach your climax. You feel him fighting with your body to stay inside of you, your walls clamping hard around him. Your breath catches in your chest, legs shaking, and as your orgasm nears an end, Joel’s hips slam into you over and over again, his pubic bone grinding against your sensitive clit as he fucks you hard. His breath quickens in your ear, nearing his own finish. His arms are snug around you, holding onto you for dear life.

“Come inside me,” you whisper, hands on his ass to let him know you don’t want him to pull out. The words seem to hit the spot, because a second later he comes with a series of moans, and a few scattered “fucks” and “holy shits”.

You feel his hardness soften inside you, twitching, sending aftershocks of orgasm through you, his and your own. His exhaustion quick in his clothed chest, pressed firmly against your own. You don’t dare to move, worried it’ll send him the wrong signal, that you want him off you. You don’t. So you lay still, breathing softly through your nose.

Joel kisses your cheekbone as he rolls over, covering you both with the comforter, and you snuggle into his side. A minute goes by, only filled with your eventually calm breathing, before Joel turns to you.

"Was it everything you thought it would be?" he jokes.

You punch his shoulder and bury your face in you chest as you both giggle at how the evening has ended. His hand carefully plays with your hair. You turn your head upwards to plant a kiss on his cheek, his stubble tickling you skin.

"Don't get to comfortable," he huffs, and moves his hand from your hair to caress your arm which lays draped across his midriff.

"Why?" you reply without looking up at him, hoping the disappointment isn't too obvious in your voice.

"Promised your old man I'd help set up his new DVD player tonight," he says. "So don't fall asleep on me 'cause I gotta get back up soon."

You close your eyes in relief, comforted by the fact that he didn't mean "don't get comfortable with us, with this".

"We probably shouldn't arrive together, anyway," he continues. "You're supposed to be at a terrible date, remember?"

You sit up on your elbow, looking at him earnestly.

"If you go over first, will you promise to comfort me when I come broken hearted and crying through the door right after?"

He chuckles at that.

"'Course I will." He sits up too, planting a kiss on your hair, before getting out of bed. He tucks himself back into his underwear, still fully clothed, grabbing a shirt that hangs over a chair in the corner of the room.

"Give me 15," he says, buttoning his cuffs, heading towards the open bedroom door.

He looks back at you tangled in his sheets, and nods towards you.

"Gotta change 'em tonight," he decides. "Next time I want just you and me on them."

He winks at you, and closes the door behind him.

a/n: screams what did i do

thanks to @toxicanonymity for the date's name lmao

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #my writing #tlou fanfiction #tlou au

[blue-aconite]

it was just a kiss || j.h.s

Summary: A night at the Hard Deck takes a turn when Jake confides in Mickey about some personal matters.

Warnings: swearing, fluff, jake has feelings, no use of y/n (reader has a nickname), fanboy is the ultimate bestie, drunk rooster is a menace to society

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairings: Jake Seresin x reader

Authors Note: Based on this prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting. Thanks to @writercole @demxters & @seresinsweetie for looking this over for me!

“The girl with the bachelorette party has been eyeing you all evening.” Fanboy handed him another beer, perching onto the bar stool next to him. 

Hangman looked over to where the group of girls were seated, catching the eye of the brunette that had been trying to get his attention since they arrived. The girl gestured towards the doors but he shook his head, giving her an apologetic smile. 

“Dude, what are you doing? She’s hot.” Mickey slapped his arm, eyes wide as saucers. 

“I’m not interested.”

Fanboy looked concerned, swivelling around on his chair. “Alright, let me get this straight. For the past month, I’ve seen countless women approach you, yet you’ve turned them all down. What’s going on?”

Jake snorted into his beer. “Nothing. I’m just not interested.”

“Can we please just have a human conversation? I know that underneath all of those protein shakes and hair products is an actual human being called Jake, and not Hangman. So, stop trying to avoid the subject.” Mickey leaned back against the wall, knocking his knee into Jake’s. 

Jake stared at Fanboy for the longest time, not knowing what to say. He opened his mouth but no words came out, so he settled back against the wall as well, keeping his eyes on the floor.

The Daggers had been permanently stationed at Top Gun since the Uranium Mission, instructing and flying together. Jake tried his best to play nice, offering to drive most of them home from the bar at times and buying beers on their nights out. He had made an effort to try and interact more, trying to show interest in their lives but he didn’t think that the rest of the group, save Javy, had actually accepted him into their little makeshift family. He still felt like he wasn’t truly a part of the group, but Mickey’s concern told him that maybe he was wrong. 

Fanboy shifted slightly, putting his beer away. “Jake. You can talk to me.”

“I didn’t think, uh, I mean -”

Fanboy smiled, patting his arm reassuringly. “I know. I know you think we don’t care, but we do. If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. But something is obviously bothering you. If you’re not comfortable with me, Javy might be a better option?” 

Jake didn’t know what to say. He waited for the punchline, where Fanboy would laugh and mock him but it never came. Mickey was being sincere. The WSO just waited patiently, fingers drumming on the wooden bar behind them. 

“You know, you remind me of my brother.” Mickey picked at his jeans, pulling at the loose strings over the knee. When Jake didn’t respond, he kept on talking. 

“His name is Diego. He’s the oldest. There’s five of us, by the way. He’s just like you. Walls up so high you can barely see past them. He always used to make fun of us when we were kids. I hated it. But when I got older, I realised that he was only doing it to push us. Mom and dad put a lot of responsibility on him and he did the best he could.” 

Jake listened as Mickey rambled on, the uncomfortable pit in his stomach lessening the longer Fanboy kept talking. 

“I know you’re doing the best you can as well. I know that you taunt Rooster with the sole purpose of making sure he pushes his own limits. I can tell. You push us all to be better.”

He swallowed thickly, trying to make out what had transpired in the last 20 minutes. “How? How can you tell?”

Mickey grinned widely. “Like I said, you remind me of Diego,” he grabbed the bottle again, “you’re one of us Jake, even if you don’t think so.”

Jake decided to throw caution to the wind and believe what Fanboy was telling him. If it was all true, then maybe he could talk to him. Maybe he could start being a part of the group. Before he could even open his mouth, Rooster appeared out of thin air and threw an arm around his shoulder.

“HANGMAN! The lady over there is asking about you!” Bradley leaned in closer, as if he was going to share a secret. “I think she wants to fuck you.”

Fanboy snorted loudly, startling Rooster. “Fanboy, didn’t see you there! What do you think, do you think she wants to fuck him?”

A bright red flush was covering Bradley’s cheeks and his eyes were slightly unfocused and glazed over. 

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Rooster, how much have you had to drink?” 

Bradley was leaning onto Jake now, his head on his shoulder. “You know, you smell good. And your hair is very soft.” Rooster patted Jake’s head, smiling stupidly at his teammate. 

“Okay buddy, I think we should get you home.” Bob appeared, slinging Rooster’s unoccupied arm around his shoulder, supporting most of his weight as he pulled him off of Jake. Bradley made a sound of protest as he was separated from Jake. 

“No, I was gonna help Hangman get laid. There’s a lady over there, and she’s got the hots for him.” He waved in the general direction of the bar. 

“He isn’t interested. So you can go home,” Fanboy laughed, pushing Bradley’s hand away as it aimed for his head. 

Bob tried to get him to move, but Bradley turned in his grasp, almost losing his balance. “You’re not? But I was gonna help.” He pouted, leaning back onto Bob who grunted under the extra added weight. 

Jake didn’t get the chance to answer as Bob hauled Rooster away with the help of Payback who had snuck up on them. Bradley complained the entire way, waving excitedly to Penny at the bar as his teammates practically carried him out of the door. 

“I guess that’s it. You two coming with us or what?” Nat sauntered by, Javy following closely. 

Jake was about to agree but Fanboy beat him to it. “In a minute. You go ahead.” 

They waved goodbye and Jake itched to follow his best friend. Now it was just him and Mickey. Even though he was about to spill his guts out right before Bradshaw interrupted them, Jake hesitated. 

“C’mon, let’s get some air.” Fanboy left his seat and Jake had no choice but to follow him out onto the deck. The sun was long gone, the pale moon taking its place. He could hear the waves crashing against the shore, people laughing further down the beach as they sat around a bonfire, sparkling brightly against the darkness.

“I could tell you were actually going to talk before Rooster interrupted us. Still want to?”

Jake hesitated for a moment before slumping back against the wooden rail. “Have you spoken much to the new team of mechanical engineers that arrived a couple of months ago? Like, Mercury for example,” he sighed as he nodded towards the window. Through it, across the bar, he could see Mercury sitting with her friends. 

Mickey stretched out his legs in front of him. “Sure. Mercury is badass. Her team is much better than Rogers and his idiots.” Their former mechanical team had been replaced by Mercury and her co-workers at the beginning of spring. Everyone preferred the new team. 

“Well, you see, uh. A couple of weeks ago, I ran into Mercury. And we’ve hung out a few times, outside of work. And I…” Jake trailed off, not knowing how to continue. 

Fanboy turned to him, eyes wide. “Are you telling me the reason you’ve been turning down all these women is because you’ve got a crush on Mercury?”

Jake’s heart hammered in his chest, gut twisting slowly. “It’s not that. Well, partly. I can’t stop thinking about her, no matter how much I try to occupy myself. I miss her when I don’t see her for a couple of days and I feel like, I don’t know, all giddy and shit when she smiles.”

“It sounds like more than a crush. So why the sad face man?” Fanboy nudged his side. 

“I kissed her. Well, she kissed me. We kissed. And after, she said ‘it was just a kiss’.” Jake deflated with disappointment, trying to hide just how much her response actually hurt him.

Mickey stayed quiet for a while before speaking. “Did you say you wanted something more?”

“I told her that I knew it was just a kiss but asked if it had to be just that.”

“What did she say?”

It hurt more than Jake liked to admit to revisiting what happened after their kiss. “She said that while she liked me, she knew of my reputation and had no intention of being another notch in my bedpost.” 

Fanboy clicked his tongue. “And that’s why you’ve stayed away from all the women. Trying to show her that you’re serious?”

Jake hadn’t anticipated for Mickey to see right through him. The emotional turmoil of opening up like this, to have someone listen and not mock, was jarring. Jake didn’t exactly have a lot of those people in his life. But Fanboy stayed, listening patiently as Jake talked. 

“Yes. Her words hurt but they’re true. I’m just trying to show her that I’m willing to change, for her. That I have changed.”

His companions' next words cut deeper than they should. “You’re in love with her. This isn’t just a crush.”

He hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself. Love wasn’t something Jake was familiar with. It scared him, to be vulnerable and open with someone. To let them see every part of him. But it was true. Over the course of a few short weeks, being in Mercury’s company had him breaking all his own rules as he realised that he did love her.

“Yes.”

“Then you should tell her. Tell her that you’ve changed, for her. Tell her that you love her.”

Jake sighed. “I can’t. She doesn’t feel the same, she made it very clear.”

Mickey slapped his arm, startling him. “Dude! Stop. You said that she said she liked you. If your past is the only thing stopping her, then you need to tell her,” he paused for a moment before lowering his voice, “and you deserve someone, Jake. You deserve love.”

He didn’t want to cry but Mickey’s words brought a wave of emotion upon him. He swiped at his face, trying to hide the tears. 

All of what Mickey was saying went against everything Jake had ever been told. His father always told him he was no good and that no one would ever want anything from him. That he would never amount to anything. Never achieve anything. 

“It’s okay man. I get it. You’re scared. But in the wise words of my abuela, ‘To love is to be scared. If you’re not scared, it’s not worth it’.” 

Jake laughed, a watery sound before wiping his face again. “She sounds like a smart woman.” Jake took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. 

Mickey laughed as well, eyes sparkling. “She’s the best,” he looked past Jake, eyes trained on something outside Jake’s field of vision. “If you were to tell Mercury, what would you say to her?”

Jake took a moment to ponder, trying to put his feelings into words. He guessed it was too late to turn back now, Mickey had already seen parts of him he hadn’t shown anyone in years. 

“I guess I would tell her how she makes me feel. That her smile brightens my day and that I want to make her laugh. That she makes me push myself to be better, both for myself and her. I’d tell her that I love her, even if it scares me. That I’ve changed and that my past doesn’t matter. She’s the only one I want.”

Fanboy clapped his hands together, smiling widely. “Good.”

“What do you mean ‘good’?” Jake turned but Mickey wasn’t looking at him. His eyes were trained behind him, shit eating grin in place on his face. 

Jake turned his head, his eyes landing upon Mercury standing a few feet away, bottle dangling from her hand. He immediately choked up, hands growing clammy as he tried to find his voice. The look on her face told Jake she had heard everything. 

“I’m gonna head back inside,” Mickey pushed off the chair before murmuring, “Remember what I said. You deserve love,” to Jake. He then sauntered back into the bar, saluting sloppily as he walked past Mercury.

Jake held his breath, counting to twenty as she approached him, sitting down tentatively in Fanboy’s abandoned seat. Neither of them spoke at first. Jake’s heart was beating so hard against his ribs that he thought it would break free. His palms were sweaty and he wanted to bolt, rush back inside. 

“You love me?” She quietly asked, hands twisting in her lap. He desperately wanted to reach out and intertwine their hands but he wasn’t sure it would be welcomed. Mercury chose for him when she grew tired of waiting for an answer. 

She reached over, clasping one of his hands between her own. “Jake. Talk to me.”

Mercury was staring at him  with a gentle smile. Her face was open and inviting, making Jake feel braver. He could do this.

“Yes. I don’t know when it happened.” She laughed, squeezing his hand. “Does it matter when it happened?”

“I guess not.” 

Neither of them spoke after that but there seems to be no need. All Jake focused on was the feeling of his hand between hers, the way they both seemed to breathe at the same time. It’s peaceful. 

“I’m sorry that I said it was just a kiss,” Mercury murmured while tracing the veins on his hand. “I wanted to say it was more than that, but I didn’t want to get hurt.”

“Hurting you is the last thing I want. I want this. Us.” Jake squeezed her hand back, intertwining their fingers. He desperately wanted her to repeat his earlier words back to him but he didn’t want to push her either. He knew he loved Mercury. He could wait while she sorted her feelings out. 

After all, he hadn’t exactly planned on telling her nor even approaching her.

“Jake?”

He hummed contentedly, the feeling of her hand in his calming him down better than any trick his therapist had ever taught him. 

“If you want to, I’d like that kiss to be more than just a kiss. I want you. Truth is, I think I fell in love with you when we went hiking. I know that’s so long ago and I’m sorry for not telling you but -”

Jake cut her off, cupping her face and pressing their lips together, smiling into the kiss. She loved him. It was all he needed to know. They’d figure the rest out later. If Jake had it his way, they’d have the rest of their lives.

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#jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun maverick fic #fe writes #jake hangman seresin