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moonlitdesertdreams · 8 days

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Take the damn shot

A/N: Ohhhhh I've spiraled. Going from Mandalorian fics to writing about a radioactive cowboy with no nose within a couple weeks of each other is totally healthy :) Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence. Summary: A single quiet day in the saloon is all you wanted. But somehow, your Ghoul partner is pulling his gun and you're covered in another person's blood. Honestly, it's just typical.

Word Count: 1.7k+

(GIF Credit to @djo)

The Ghoul hates to admit it, but he needs you.

In the same sick and twisted, goddamned way he needs the Vials to stay sane, he needs you next to him. When poison air grows thick and the scorching sun sinks beyond a brutalized horizon, you’re always at his side. Day in and day out, you stick around. Full of piss and vinegar, ready to take on the fucked up world you’re all stuck in.

And Cooper’s not one for generosity anymore, but he gives you credit a lot of the time. He knows he can be nasty, and you don’t mind one bit. In spite of his callousness and general disregard for safety, you put on a chipper attitude and tug him (sometimes physically) along to the next town. Outwardly innocent but filled with a mutual hatred for Vault-Tec and what its influence had done to the world and yourself, you’d quickly become his diamond in the rough.

And you shine particularly bright in the shack of a building the Wasteland called a saloon. You’ve made careful friends with a couple of gray-haired biddies- presumably the owners- in the back of the room, and chat happily with them. Cooper sits off to the side behind you, a bottle of the local brew dangling between his fingers. He’s content for the first time in a while; ass in a creaky rocking chair and boots kicked up on an old milk crate. The brim of his hat is pulled down to hide the majority of his face, but eyes wander lazily from you to the front door.

Cooper didn’t think many things were nice any longer, but listening to you prattle on with the women warmed something in his dead heart.

“You’re awfully pretty for this place.” The older of the two women, sporting a single eye and an impressively neat beehive style, compliments you. “Gotta be out of the Vaults with that skin.”

The Ghoul tenses, knowing the mention of your 200-year prison would strike a nerve.

“Yeah. I’m from before the war, actually.” You say it plainly and chase it down with a swig of liquor. “Fuckin’ Vault-Tec.”

The Ghoul’s familiar with your story, from you finding out about the plan to drop homemade bombs on American citizens to your confrontation with the executive group in Vault 31. Little did you know, you’d be sneaking in with no chance for escape. Cooper tightens his fist at the thought of Hank MacLean shoving you carelessly into a cryopod and slamming the button to lock you in. You’d relayed the story to him with watery eyes, and that’s something he absolutely loathed. He had enough personal beef with Hank that your trauma added to his ever-growing list of things to be absolutely pissed-the-fuck-off about.

Finch and Sparrow, as they were so comically named, clutch their pearls in sadness as you tell your story. They fawn over you, and Cooper makes out a few ‘fuck them Vaulties’ and a ‘well as much as it sucks, we’re glad you made it this far’. You sniff just barely and wipe your eyes.

“Thanks, ladies. It means a lot.”

The conversation turns back pleasant for the most part, and you’re enthralled as the women pull you into the town gossip. Cooper begrudgingly gets up to piss, comfy as he was, but stops at your side to hand off his bag first. You take it with a nod, more interested in the rumor mill than his whereabouts for the moment. He swaggers to the back door of the saloon, where wind whips sand against his jeans and patters the leather of his boots with tiny rocks.

Voices drift out the door from inside as Cooper yanks his zipper back up.

“Is it true what they say ‘bout Vaulties?” It’s a man’s voice, gruff and demanding in comparison to the happy lilt of yours. “Heard your story and always been… curious.”

“If you listened, you would know I ain’t no Vaultie.” Your reply is instant, but the edge in your voice has Cooper stepping a little faster down the short hallway. He reemerges to the sight of a suspiciously dressed man leaning against the wood beam beside your table, a little too close for comfort.

“Sure you are, darlin’. I can tell by lookin’ at’chya.” The man’s face is half-covered by a bandanna, and a pair of sand goggles are pushed up on his forehead, “Like they say.. everything’s… softer.”

There’s suddenly a hand landing on your shoulder, and Cooper sees red. His gun is pulled before he knows it, leveling at the man’s forehead.

“Hands off the girl.” He growls.

On closer inspection the man is probably close to the age you appear. Above the bandanna, weatherbeaten skin turns into frizzy ginger hair. He’s wearing a typical duster type coat, and the goggles are leaving red marks in his forehead. Cooper decides he’s taken shits more attractive than him.

Probably smarter, too.

“Fuck off, Ghoul.” Is the reply Cooper receives, sending a flash of white-hot anger through his already irradiated body. “I wasn't talkin’ to you.”

It was all too common, being brushed off. At this point in his life, it actually brings a smirk to his face. Your mouth is even tipping up at the edges, having had many interactions with the can of worms this guy was prying open.

“Listen man, I think you should let it go.” You warn and try to stand from the broken chair you had been carefully perching on. The red-head doesn’t relent, and pushes you back down into the chair. It wobbles dangerously as Cooper stomps closer. The movement prompts your captor to pull his own gun. It’s a crudely made pipe pistol, but able to shoot flying projectiles into your brains nonetheless.

“Get your goddamn hands off her before I decorate that wall with your fuckin’ skull.” Cooper yanks the hammer back on his pistol, hesitating at your close proximity.

The redhead pulls his bandanna down and Cooper watches you lean away as you recognize the scent and characteristics of a Fiend. His teeth are hanging loosely at crooked angles, and the pock marks around his mouth from scratching his skin open drip blood and serous fluid. His gun is trained on Cooper, but he freezes when he sees the Ghoul shift forward.

“Ah ah ah. How’d you like me to put a bullet in her instead?” The Fiend tugs you to your feet and nuzzles at your hair as he presses the barrel of his gun to your ribs. “I’d love a taste myself.”

The suffocating need to keep you safe and at his side fills Cooper’s corroded veins as you scowl at the Fiend whose nose is pressed dangerously close to your cheek with rotten teeth bared. Rage ignites from the anger he’s already feeling.

BANG.

Cooper’s watching when the red spray of blood washes over half the saloon, but still doesn’t quite comprehend what’s happened. His gun didn’t fire, but the scent of ignited powder fills the air. You fall to the floor along with your captor, and the aforementioned rage boils over. He holsters his gun and scrambles to pull you away in the chaos.

Thankfully, a quick once-over shows you to have no injuries, but the same can’t be said for your attacker. A foot away the Fiend lies still, about five pounds lighter from the gaping hole in his chest. Gore from his wound is splattered thick across your face and neck. Your eyes are pinched closed to avoid anything unsightly entering them, and you lash out blindly when Cooper grasps your arms.

“Let me go, you rotten bastard!” The Ghoul catches your right hand before it can hook into his jaw, “I’ll kill you myself.”

“Quit squealin’ sunshine, it’s me.” Cooper growls

While he’s getting a handle on your flailing limbs, a shadow covers the both of you. Cooper glances up at the one-eyed old woman who’s sawed-off shotgun is still smoking in her left hand.

“I know your brain is shrunken and all, but next time take the shot sooner.” She bites. “And feel free to clean up my damn bar.”

Cooper is torn between staring at the older woman- Sparrow, he thinks- and trying to contain your squirming. He’s not too fragile to admit he really doesn’t want to take a punch from you right now, so he wipes the back of his hand across your eyes and tugs you to sit up beside him.

“Cooper?”

He huffs a laugh at your incredulous tone and flicks away the remnants of blood littering your skin “The one and only. Open your eyes.”

They flicker open slowly, and you pout at the blood congealing on your clothes. “I just got these pants.”

Cooper sets a hand on your thigh and squeezes gently. “I’ll buy you a new pair. S’Long as you promise not to get Fiend all over those ones too.”

You thrust an elbow into his ribs at the jab and climb to your feet. Cooper follows with a dramatic groan.

“Old man.” You tease over your shoulder, observing the carnage from Sparrow’s well-aimed shot. A kick to the corpses’ ribs follows, sending a splatter of blood across Cooper’s pants. You shoot him an insincerely apologetic look. “She’s right, you know.”

The Ghoul follows your gaze to Sparrow, who’s hollering at any remaining patrons that dare tread too close to the mess, damning them for tracking blood around the bar.

“‘Bout what?”

You lean into his space, the scent of blood thick in the air. “Take the damn shot sooner.”

Cooper grabs the back of your neck and yanks you forward in a hard kiss. The blood transfers easily onto his lips, and he licks it off while pulling away. “Fucker deserved more than one shot.”

Possessiveness floods his mind and he squeezes the soft flesh beneath his fingers.

“I’da strung him up by his balls if I got my hands on him.” He mutters, tracing another finger through the blood and popping it into his mouth. “After grabbin’ onto you like that.”

You lean into his chest and let a smile curl the corners of your lips up. “All for little ol’ me?”

The Ghoul pinches your bloody cheek. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

-------------------

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

#fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x f!reader #The Ghoul x Reader #the Ghoul x you #cooper howard x oc #fallout tv series #lucy maclean #walton goggins #fallout fiends #possessive!cooper howard #fallout #fallout 4 #fallout new vegas #ghouls deserve love too

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joelsgreys · 3 months

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captive

Raider! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: You find yourself missing your captor while he’s out on an early morning hunt with the rest of the group.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. RAIDER ERA. DARK!JOEL. DUBCON. IMPLIED PREVIOUS NONCON. UNSPECIFIED AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 50). READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION. mentions of Joel’s group murdering reader’s group, it’s implied her family members were also killed, Joel pretty much kidnaps reader and keeps her as his own, stockholm syndrome, reader deals with a lot of very distressing and conflicting feelings, Joel isn’t too creepy or extremely dark, but he is still not a good person, mentions of Tommy. VERY BRIEF SMUT in the form of cockwarming, daddy kink but i didn’t go overboard this time, pet names (honey, baby, babygirl, sweetheart) if i missed anything, you can POLITELY let me know because if i missed anything, it was purely accidental. minimal editing.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS.

if this isn’t your thing, that’s fine, just scroll on by.

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i might actually throw up idk. i’ve had this itch to try dark joel and seeing as i have major writer’s block with all my other wips i decided to just scratch the itch. this is a little out of my comfort zone but i actually ended up feeling pleased with what i wrote. this is my personal take on dark/raider joel, i’m sure it is very out of character but it’s fanfiction so…yeah. here it is.

It’s the rain that rouses you from your sleep.

It beats down heavily on the remote cabin’s tin roof.

Loud. Much too loud.

You roll over, settling yourself on your side.

The mattress is old, worn, rotting beneath the sheets.

You can’t complain, though. At least you have a bed.

Everybody else is forced to sleep on the hard floor.

He always gets the room with the bed.

As his special girl, that means you always get the room with the bed too.

It’s not quite as flattering as one would believe.

He only ever wants the bedroom for one reason—to keep you behind a locked door so you can’t run.

You sigh softly and stare out the window. He’d secured that too, made certain that it couldn’t be opened from the inside.

Closing your eyes, you try and go back to sleep.

Sleep doesn’t come.

His absence is starting to bother you.

You’ve been with him for an entire season now.

You’re getting used to him.

The sound of his voice.

The warmth of his body.

The taste of his lips.

You can’t even sleep without him next to you.

“Fuck,” you whisper, clutching the stale sheets, balling them in your fists out of frustration.

How was it possible? How could you be missing him?

He had taken everything from you.

Your family.

Your home.

Your innocence.

He was holding you captive. He was a monster.

But a monster doesn’t keep you safe.

Doesn’t clothe you.

Doesn’t feed you.

Doesn’t protect you.

He did all of those things and more.

Is that why you feel so empty without him beside you?

Is that why you’re no longer so certain you would run if you were given the chance to escape him?

You fucking hated him for what he’d done.

Yet here you are, aching for him to come back to you.

It’s another hour before you hear the lock clicking.

Joel pushes through the door, quietly closing it behind him.

“Y’awake?” he asks, slipping his pack off his shoulders.

“Mhm,” you answer with your back to him. “I am.”

You hear the sound of his pack hitting the floor.

His worn leather boots being kicked off.

His rifle being set down, propped against the wall.

“How was the hunt?”

You can feel him freeze as he’s taking off his jacket.

Getting you to willingly speak to him had always been a lot like pulling teeth. Difficult, almost impossible.

When he doesn’t respond, you roll over to face him.

There’s a swoop in your tummy.

Joel is drenched from head to toe. His blue denim shirt clings to his broad frame and his dark, graying curls are slicked back away from his face.

He’s got such a handsome face.

Monsters aren’t supposed to have handsome faces.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re really askin’ me how the hunt went?” Suspicion laces his tone. “Why? Y’worried you won’t eat tonight?”

Of course you weren’t.

Joel Miller doesn’t let you go hungry.

When food is scarce, he makes sure you eat first. If he notices you rubbing your tummy because your portion wasn’t enough, he’ll give you his own portion.

He takes care of you.

“No.” You pause and sit up. The sheets you two share fall away from your body, leaving your soft, supple breasts on full display for him. “Just wanted to know how your morning went. That’s all.”

It’s not your tits that make his cock twitch against the zipper of his jeans—it’s the sincerity that flashes across your features, the sound of it in the tone of your voice.

You’re being sweet to him.

He clears his throat lightly.

“Went real good. Brought down a deer. Female, ‘bout a hundred pounds or so. Enough to keep all of us well fed for the next couple of weeks,” he says with a nod. “Was pissin’ rain the entire time but it was worth it. Tommy’s in the shed out back right now dressin’ it so we can get a stew started.” He pauses. “You’re gonna get a proper meal tonight, babygirl. Belly’s gonna be nice and full.”

He’s not just talking about food and you know it.

You make an effort to meet his gaze, but you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to do it, not when you remembered how he’d taken you away from your family—how he had carried you over his shoulder, kicking and screaming as his people raided your camp and slaughtered every last member of your group because that’s what Joel Miller had ordered them to do.

Looking him in the eye might be the one thing you will never, ever be able to do.

“It’s cold,” you murmur after a minute. “You should get out of those wet clothes before you get sick.”

With a subtle nod, Joel turns around and starts peeling off his clothes until he’s completely naked. He uses an old rag to dry himself off as best as he can, although it doesn’t do much for him.

You can’t help yourself and stare—your gaze drags over the strong muscles of his back and shoulders, how they flex and ripple beneath his skin with every single one of his movements. Arousal pools between your thighs and all you can do is fucking hate yourself for wanting it, for wanting him.

“S’pretty early still,” he states, his back still to you as he runs the rag through his hair. “Y’should try to get some more sleep.”

The confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think about stopping it.

“I couldn’t sleep while you were gone.”

Surprised, he turns around.

Almost immediately, your eyes fall to his cock.

Even when he isn’t fully hard, he’s still so fucking big.

“Is that so?” Joel asks, sounding rather pleased.

“Yes,” you say, softly. “I—I missed you.”

His lips turn upwards into a subtle, faint grin.

“Yeah?” he coos. “My sweet little girl missed me while I was gone? Hm?” Slowly, he approaches the bed. It dips slightly and the frame creaks as he plants a knee on the mattress and leans over towards you. Gently, Joel takes your chin between his index finger and thumb. “Y’need Daddy by your side so you can sleep, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you whisper, warm tears glazing over your eyes.

It’s bad enough your body welcomed him so easily.

Now your heart was starting to do the same.

And then there was your mind.

What if that stopped fighting him too?

Part of you is afraid it already has.

Joel climbs into bed, joining you under the sheets.

“M’here, my pretty girl. C’mere, honey.” He coaxes you to lay on your side and pulls you back against his chest. His skin is still damp, frigid from having been out in the elements, but somehow he’s still warm. “That better?”

“Need you closer,” you mumble, wiggling against him.

Joel groans, his thick cock hard and throbbing against the small of your back. He nips at your bare shoulder as his hand drags down the length of your body and slips between your thighs. “Christ, babygirl. Pussy’s soakin’ wet for me. Looks like she missed me while I was gone too, didn’t she, sweetheart?”

He runs his finger along your slick, silky folds.

“Daddy,” you whimper, bucking into his hand.

“Don’t worry, honey. Daddy knows what you need.”

Joel pulls his hand from between your legs.

You almost cry—you’re so fucking desperate for him.

And you shouldn’t be.

He reaches in between your bodies, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock. Without warning, he slips it into your tight, aching cunt, sheathing himself in your warm, wet heat in one smooth stroke.

You choke out a sob.

It’s always overwhelming, that initial stretch.

That fullness, the feeling of him being in your belly.

“S’alright, sweetheart. S’alright. I know you can take it,” he soothes you. “You’re such a good girl for me. Always take my cock so fuckin’ well. So good for me, baby. You feel better now that Daddy’s cock is buried inside your pretty little pussy?”

He drapes an arm around you, pulling your back flush against his chest.

“Yes,” you breathe, placing your hand on top of his.

Joel feathers a kiss onto your neck.

“Go to sleep, babygirl. M’here. Ain’t goin’ nowhere,” he promises you.

That shouldn’t be a comfort to you. But it is.

You close your eyes, your fingers subconsciously lacing together with his as you start to drift.

Cunt full of his cock, you fall asleep in your captor’s arms.

divider credit to @saradika🤍

#tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw noncon #raider joel #raider! joel #dark!fic #dark! joel miller #dark joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #tw daddy kink #dark!joel x reader #fic: captive

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blueywrites · 3 months

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Thinking about spending Valentine's Day with older!Eddie.

18+, age gap (25ish - 40ish)

You're in your mid-twenties and he's in his early forties, and you've been dating for only a couple months before the holiday comes up. And Eddie had been surprised a pretty little thing like you would give him the time of day despite the fifteen-odd years between you. But you find him sexy, and sweet in a gruff sort of way, especially when he slings a protective arm over your shoulder when you walk down the sidewalk together, tucking you to the inside as he sucks on the end of his cigarette. His leather jacket smells like Camels and tangy motor oil, musk and home, and you must be getting soft on him because you don't even scrunch your nose anymore at the acrid sting of smoke in your nose. The world has left him grizzled and huffy, nearly perpetually tired, but Eddie's deep smile lines ease back into boyish dimples at the sound of your bright laughter and the hook of your small pinkie around his rougher one. He calls you 'sugar' and buys you the big milkshake when you asked for the small, husking a fond chuckle when you pout and whine about it being too much. You melt a little when his fingers graze the hem of your skirt as he walks behind you, just a little idle brush like he wants to remember how soft you are.

He shows up at your apartment door standing stiffly with a frilly pink bag strap clutched in his tatted knuckles, like he knows what an eyesore he must be with it. You don't think so, though. Not when you pull out the purple Jellycat bunny with a squeal of unabashed delight, nor even when he grumbles about 'how expensive a damn stuffed animal was' as you throw your arms over his broad shoulders, pressing kiss after kiss to his stubbly cheek until he scowls and goes pink up to his ears. "Lemme get the fuckin' door closed at least," he grumbles, "'fore that bitch next door gives me the evil eye again for defilin' you in front of the neighbors." But you know he's secretly pleased that you'd kiss him anywhere, anytime, no matter who sees.

You'd given him your Valentine's day present: his favorite meal and a tin of too-many cupcakes to take home and indulge in after his shifts this week. Now he's underneath you, warm and solid, body strong but gone softer in some places than he'd been when he used to be your age. He's beautiful there - his dark hair unbound across your duvet, streaked with gentle gray, faded in places like the tattoos that cover him in a tapestry of passed time and grim imagery. His weathered fingers press bluntly into the supple curve of your waist, and he watches with heavy-lidded eyes as his hips punch little mewls out of you from below, impacts that you take eagerly as you let him hold you in place and work you over. His voice is all husk and grit, rich like whiskey as he murmurs to you. "Got the sweetest little pussy, sugar. All for me, hm?"

Your head lolls back on a breathy moan, eyes slipping closed as your fingers tighten where your hands are planted on his chest. It makes him hiss with pleasure when they catch on and pull the wiry hair there. "Yes, Eddie," you sigh, soft where he is rough, your heart throbbing in time with his. "My pussy is yours. All yours."

He's fucking you fuzzy and near dumb, but you manage to roll your head forward and blink your eyes open to catch his heavy gaze. "I'm yours," you say, aching at the way his face shifts when you add so sincerely, "Want everything with you."

He doesn't answer you. But once he's rendered you boneless and sated, sticky with his release leaking between your thighs, you can feel that reply in the gentleness of his arms as they wrap around you, the slant of his lips as they press to your temple, the tender way he brushes back your hair and draws his thumb over your dewy brow.

The world has left Eddie grizzled and tired, but you are making him new.

happy Valentine's Day 🩷

#blueywrites #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic

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nelapanela94 · 3 months

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Falling, falling, drowning.

Levi jolts from his sleep, clammy, heaving, clutching his chest as he grasps for air. The room is dry. He rolls up his sleeves, only sweat clings to his skin. Gray eyes dart around, and as they focus, he recognizes the place, the bookshelf, the tea table, the old leathered couch. He screws his eyes shut, crinkling at the corners, squeezes his fists, resting them on his tights, and breathes in long controlled puffs. His body starts to relax, the terror ebbing through every pore as he leaves the bone-stiffed trance.

He shakes his head, pats his cheeks and opens his eyes again. The candle light is weak; a smear of ink blotching the last paper he was signing before falling asleep. He clicks his tongue and puts the quill back on the curlicue-carved holder. He sighs, blows off the candle and spins around on his chair. The window is opened and the yard is swarmed by the silver light of the moon. He rises to his feet, takes off his jacket and slides it on the top back rail. Slings off his suspenders, lets them hang about his thighs.

What are you doing now?

Probably sailing your third dream of the night.

The corridors whistle with emptiness, the fires deadly still. He opens your door, slowly to muffle the screech and wedges into your room. Soft snores unshackle from you, your hair unruly and tangled over your face. A single bed. He scuffs off his boots, nimbly pads closer, snuggles under the covers.

"Levi." His lips curve in a smile at the euphony of your sleepy voice . "What you doing here?"

"I didn't mean to wake you up." He presses a kiss on your head and wriggles closer and closer, though his ass will sleep in the air, there is hardly any space, an excuse to be even closer to you. He cocoons you in his arms, nuzzles his face in the curve of your neck.

"A nightmare?"

"mmhmm." A red hue creeps over his face.

You shift around, kiss him on the cheek. "It's ok. You're safe with me."

#levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot #snk #levi aot #levi x reader #levi x you #snk levi #levi attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman/you #levi ackerman/reader #fanfic

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stararch4ngelqueen · 7 months

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Overachiever

—

Time Written-12:01 a.m.

Jason Todd/fem!reader smut (gave up looking for an image for this guy so yea)

—

Faint blotches of muted blues and crooked gray shadows shroud your closed eyes, your heartbeat drumming in your head. Loud, thick gurgles ring in your ears, forcing all thoughts from your head.

Short, guttural grunts erupted above you. The sting along your scalp from a fistful of hair being clutched helped control your involuntary speed, coming to a sudden halt.

“I said,” his voice breaches through your muddled mind. “Keep those eyes open.”

On demand, you do so. Your watery eyes opening to a blurred vision of him; a rugged, sweat dampened mess, still clad in his leather uniform.

His hand eases off the back of your neck, allowing you to pull yourself off his fat, curved cock with a loud, lung expanding gasp. You cough after short chokes, a mix of spit and thick precum dribbling down your chin, seeping in between the valley of your breasts through your own suit.

“Look at you,” Jason huffs, guiding his heavy cock again to press against your glistening lips, feeling a sparkling pride over your ruined makeup.

“Pretty little whore. Y’see that?” He questions, guiding your head with his free hand to gaze down at him in question, focusing on the faint ring of bright red lipstick marking a good three quarters along the length.

“You’re getting better at this, Princess,” he breathlessly chuckles, tapping your outer cheek with his drenched dick.

“Bet your throat hurts, huh? Be honest.” His question has you nodding without much thought, feeling the muscles in your neck tingling after getting bullied and bruised by an eagerly horny vigilante.

“Tsk tsk. New hole’s just getting used to me, sweetheart,” Jason cooes with highly detectable mockery before leaning down, grasping your chin with two fingers to have you look at him, taking in his crinkled, amused expression.

“All that big talk when you’re stealing shit, now you got nothing to say.” After a condescending chuckle, Jason traps you in a hot, tongue heavy kiss, feeling himself throbbing at the sounds of your measly little whimpers.

“Aww, What’s the matter? Too fucked out already?” He whispers in between short pecks, swiping off a hint of spit along your chin before bringing it towards his lips, sucking the digit clean.

“Maybe it’s a little too much for ya,” Jason insists in a second guess attempt, fighting back a smirk from your growing eyes loaded up with denial. “Bit too big for you to take—“

“N-no!” You insist, your once balled up fists reaching up to grasp along his wrists. “I can do it, I know I can. Please, Jay.”

“Easy, easy. Fun’s barely starting, babygirl.” Jason displays his full smile, sharp teeth making an appearance with his chuckle.

Alongside pride, he was still giddy that he got you to agree to this.

“I know you wanna make me happy. Know you wanna earn your little reward.”

A hot, gushy load down your throat became your solid priority in an instant. Jason had that ability to suddenly render you absolutely starving in seconds, manipulating you into wanting what hadn’t come to mind before.

Your answer was a solid nod, eyes glowing in anticipation to further please him. His heavy palm clasps your throat in a snug hold, holding your head in place. His voice is low, quiet and lustful, but you hear him loud and clear.

“Tell you what,” Jason proposes with a quirk in his brow. “You take all of me; every last inch, an’ I’ll give you what you want.”

Eagerness leaves you automatically agreeing; pretty, kiss swollen lips with a pretty pink tongue eager to lap at the fat bead that threatened to drip off his length.

“That what you want, pretty girl?” He questions. “Want to make me happy? Wan’ me to make you come?”

You feel your whole body heating up from the fire that's burning deep inside you; your pussy painfully untouched and drenched. Jason promised he’d give you what you wanted if you played along in being a pretend thief, the motivation keeping you barely stable as it is.

It was like your brain was hard-wired to urge him towards his release. Or, maybe the mix of arousal and oxygen deprivation swirling around in your head was making you more submissive to set your own desires aside for him.

Eagerly nodding was your only form of answer, but Jason would gladly take it.

“Prove it then,” His hands leave your neck and head, settling them back along his sides. “Show me.”

Adjusting your sore knees against crooked gravel, you greedily lap up the fat, clear bead of precum that called your name, the saltiness drowning your tastebuds.

He lets out a short groan, brows furrowing slightly as he watches a bit of himself disappear between your lipstick smeared lips. His hum rumbles low in his chest as you bob your head back and forth at a steady pace, swirling along him with your tongue.

He's quickly drunk off of your persistent eagerness to please him, peering up at him through wet lashes. You were more focused on his reactions, watching his head slightly raise, threatening to tilt back if he wasn’t so stubborn to watch every second of it.

You looked a gorgeous sight already as you changed direction, pressing your glistening lips along the underside of his heavy cock, feeling the majority of his heavy dick rest along your face, settling against the corner of your cheek, nestled beside the small grove of your nostril.

A perfect picture to capture the memory, if it occurred to him to pull out his phone. His obedient, needy girl eager to please whenever he needed you.

He's panting harder now, shoulders rising quicker with his slightly labored breathing.

“Ready?” He had the decency to ask, waiting for your muffled hum in response before grasping hold of himself.

“Open.”

You obey, sticking out your pretty tongue.

“Eyes on me,” he taps the fat head along the muscle at least three times, too impatient to warn you of what happens if they close.

His hips lurch forward, sliding himself deep in your throat with a relieved groan. He fills your mouth up easily, his tip pushing past something hard in your throat until he's blocking your airways. You try to settle your reflex, nearly choking on him at the start.

Your soaking wet lips slowly passed where you last reached, your nose brushing against thick curls at his base, taking in his musk while choking on cock, hooking your fingers over the tight harnesses securing his meaty thighs.

You furrow your brows, trying your best to keep your throat from rejecting him, but you're not able to hold him there for long before you choke.

The vibrations left him shivering, watching spit bubble from the corners of your mouth, dripping slowly down your chin and neck, disappearing down your constricting suit zipper.

“That’s it,” he grunts, his head tilting back in pure, raw pleasure, feeling his balls tighten with every constrict of your throat as he fucks your face.

Maybe it was his fault, getting off on your vile, arousing gags, your sickly gray tears rolling down your ruined face. The ultimate ego boost, nothing could ever top this.

You could've cared less of the mess you became, focused on him and his pleasure alone. His deep, aggressively hot tone serenaded through your brain like melted dark chocolate, leaving you addicted for more.

A rich, heavy moan left his mouth, vibrating through his chest as his head tilts back, Adam’s apple bobbing with thin beads of sweat as the nightly breeze bats against his shivering skin.

The sight of those gorgeously shiny lips clenching along the base of his drenched dick left him teetering on the very edge, your eyes watering from the sheer size of him being a bit too much for you to take.

Jason raised you higher up on his cock, nearly forcing your buckling knees off the ground.

The sounds that came from your pretty little mouth as you reached your limit, forcing you to take more than you were used to were vile and filthy, but he loved every second of it. A private symphony just for him alone.

“Nice and messy, babygirl,” Jason rasps out, glancing down at your flushed face with heavy lidded eyes.

“Gonna clean up that messy little pussy,” he murmured through heavy panting, reinforcing his interlocked fingers behind your head. “Then fuck those wet tits next.”

#who wouldn’t give this guy head on the top of GCPD #dc jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd #I would 🙋🏽‍♀️#it’s me I’m y/n #jason todd x plus size reader #jason todd gotham knights

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lunaroserites · 1 month

Text

Too Sweet - Drabble

This song has been on loop in my head for days, it has me in a choke hold.

Paring: Established Bucky X Fem!Reader (Sugar)

Summery: Just a snippet at Sugar and Bucky's juxtaposition as a couple. Bucky is an Avenger and Nat's alive.

Warnings: Mild depiction of violence, blood, alcohol and fluff, implied smut at the end.

Word Count: ~560

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

His vibranium arm made contact with this guy's jaw instantly snapping it. He dropped him to the ground and shook the blood off his arm and it splattered on the concrete below his feet.

You watered your little ivy plant and touched the leaf gently, examining it for decay. You placed the small watering can down and then scratched under the little white cat's chin. She mewled softly and purred loudly.

“Fuck,” he groaned and shot back his whiskey as Widow pulled glass from his flesh arm. Jumping through a window to pursue a target wasn’t the smartest move. But he got him. His vibranium fist clenched the shot glass tightly as Sam poured more amber liquid in it.

You pulled his sweater on and pulled your thigh high socks up and snuggled into the plush couch he helped you pick out when you moved in. Alpine snuggled into the gray fluffy blanket tucked next to you as she stretched her front legs out. The book you were reading clutched tightly in your hands as you got to the good part. You phone laid face up, a picture of him smushing a kiss to your cheek displayed as it lit up from a text.

“I’ll take a black coffee,” his arm wrapped securely around your waist as you placed your order, a caramel frappe with extra caramel. He scrunched his nose up at the sickly sweet concoction you drank happily as you walked together up the street toward your shared apartment.

Black combat boots were lined up next to your ballet flats, his leather jacket hung next to your peach linen coat. Your flowery phone case laid next to his plain black case on the island counter. Your key lanyard was adorned with tickets and pretty keychains and 2 small keys, and his was a plain key loop with about 10 different keys and couple key cards.

Alpine rubbed up against his rough black jeans a couple times before circling your bare legs and playing with the scalloped hem of your sundress. You reached down and picked the little cat up and cuddled her in your arms, Bucky rubbed under her chin with his metal hand and she purred.

“Bucky come to bed?” You called softly leaning against the office door frame, it was 2am, you had been bed a couple hours waiting for him at this point. He preferred doing his reports at night, less likely to be interrupted. He turned in his computer chair and took in the sight of you, his t-shirt hung over your frame, bare feet and a sleepy smile. He opened his arms for you to come and snuggle into his chest while he finished the last of his reports.

“You’re too sweet for me,” he murmured softly into your hair and you passed him a cup of black coffee.

“You could always do with some sugar hunny,” you said with a sweet smile. Your gruff, rough around the edges boyfriend, and you his sweet as sugar, soft in every way girlfriend. He would never understand how he landed you.

“You’re the only sugar I’ll ever need,” he whispered into your ear, and his teeth grazed the shell lightly. You shivered at his words and clenched your thighs as his hands gripped your waist gathering his shirt up higher as he picked you and planted you on the counter, filling the space between your legs as they fell open.

Feel free you send me a message if you have a request or would like more. <3

#bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #fluff #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x female reader #no use of y/n #reader insert #bucky barnes fluff

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beansprean · 7 months

Text

MORE ATLANTIS AU...

ty to @gerandor for the persian translations <3

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Full body of Guillermo, dressed like Milo Thatch from Atlantis in jodhpurs and a tank top, sitting up against a mossy rock. The crucifix around his neck is tucked to one side under his shirt, and the strap on the opposite side is shrugged off his shoulder to reveal a small cut under his collarbone. Nandor, dressed in an Atlantic version of his usual outfit in purples and blues, leans in over him, one hand braced on Guillermo's knee, to lick the wound. Guillermo is startled at this, turning bright red.

2a. Full body of human Nadja dressed like Audrey in overalls, boots, and a flat cap. She is lounging on the ground, one elbow braced on her knee to lean her knuckles on her cheek. A voice offscreen asks, "What happened to your sister?" Nadja replies casually, "She's 24 and 0 with a shot at the title next month. In a separate bubble is a smal drawing of Dolly with her hair in twin buns, wearing a sports bra and boxing gloves. 2b. Waist up of human Laszlo dressed as Sweet, in a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck. Guillermo, the side of his face visible in the foreground, nervously asks, "...Where did you get your medical license again?" Laszlo looks at him with a confused grin, holding up a shiny metal saw in his hand, and responds, "My what?" 2c. Bust of Colin Robinson, dressed as a mixture of Mole and Vinny in a gray turtleneck, brown fingerless gloves, and leather bomber hat with goggles and a lit flex light, on a striated brown background. He is holding up one finger and explaining, "It's arkose! Appears to be made from mainly quartz and feldspar, so one can presume there was volcanic activity nearby in the last few thousand years that formed it. If the caldera is still present, it's almost certainly dormant based on the strata patterns. In looking at the thickness and statistically likely set of materials we can't currently see, this gorgeous wall of rock has to be at least a 7 on the Mohs hardness scale. Which was introduced in 1812 and is therefore consistent with our 1914 setting." 2d. Repeat. Colin grins, eyes going large and excited as he holds up a lit stick of dynamite and declares, "All this to say, we could dig it, and I would love how time-consuming and tedious it would be, but we're probably better off blowing it up."

3a. Waist up of Guillermo on a foresty background of hanging lichen and persian silk, a satchel slung across his shoulders and an old book titled 'vampyr' clutched to his chest. He has one finger held up in his free hand, looking upwards in concentration as he attempts to speak in persian. He says ما قصد جنگ نداریم, meaning "we don't intend to fight," but mispronounces قصد (ghasd) as کصد (kasd). Nandor, standing in front of him and fiddling his fingers together, grimaces at this and says "Ehhhmm... Perhaps you can just speak in English?" 3b. Full body from behind as they walk away together, Nandor with his hands held loosely behind his back and Guillermo stuffing his book back into his bag. He asks, "Was it that bad?" Nandor replies, "Eeh, I have heard worse. But you speak it through your nose." He then repeats (ghasd) with proper pronunciation, which Guillermo attempts to emulate but pronounces even more incorrectly as گصد (gas).

4a. Waist up of Guillermo on a misty background, soaking wet with his tank top clinging to him and his crucifix shining around his neck. Two shadowy figures at each shoulder are holding his arms behind his back. Guillermo struggles against them and shouts angrily, "This was all for a stupid hat??" 4b. Knees up of human Simon the Devious as Commander Rourke, dressed in a green tank top tucked into khakis. He is holding up the witch's skin hat reverently in both hands and turns his face toward Guillermo with an unhinged grin, eyes wide and fully out of touch with reality. He replies, "Did I plan, fund, and retain international clearance for a long term undersea expedition to lands unknown for the sole purpose of regaining access to Laszlo's personal effects that I might take back what is rightfully mine - this witch's clit of a hat? Yes. Yes, I did." Behind him, Laszlo and Nadja stand in shocked anger and resigned irritation, respectively. /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #atlantis au #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #nadja of antipaxos #laszlo cravensworth #colin robinson #simon the devious #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described

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celianity · 7 months

Text

Training Session

Jordan Li x Reader

Prompt: you agree to a training session with Jordan, to (kinda) make them pay for breaking your heart on a night out

Word count: 1.075 _________________________________________

You should have stayed in your dorm room.

Should have studied for the upcoming exam tomorrow.

Should have kept your eyes down on that glass contained firepit in the middle of your sitting area in that goddamn club your roommates Marie and Emma dragged you to.

Should have ignored that buzzy feeling in your gut as you felt a certain pair of brown eyes on you from across the flames.

Should have not given into the temptation to catch a glimpse of the shadows dancing on their unreadable face.

And you certainly shouldn’t have entertained the foolish idea of there being an unspoken connection between the two of you after having had one conversation (that didn’t particularly go well).

Now, tell that to the anger bursting through your veins as you keep on hitting the punching bag hanging from the ceiling of the training facility. You are cursing your friends’s names under each breath whenever your fist connects with the unyielding leather of the bag.

Just as you reach out to steady the swinging chain, the door behind you opens, revealing the person you wanted to avoid at all costs. Preferably forever.

Jordan Li strolls in, duffle bag slung over one shoulder, wearing a distracting gray tank top.

You avert your gaze and try to focus on your routine again while unable to shake the feeling of them watching your every move, practically burning holes into your back.

Eventually, they suggest a one on one fighting session. “Looking at your punches, you’re in desperate need of it. Not to mention your footwork.” There is a teasing edge to their voice, but you stuck out your chin, nonetheless, incited to show them just how good your foot would work on their face.

“And yet, there you are, preparing for the worst.” You consider them with your arms crossed defensively over your chest. You didn’t miss the fact that they changed forms after challenging you.

The duffle bag lands on the floor with a thud. Since you are the only ones in the training center this early in the morning, the sound’s almost deafening.

As you take up positions across from each other on a training mat, the rage in your veins flares anew. Having this little distance between yourself and last night’s almost mistake, you can’t help being annoyed at your traitorous heart for still fluttering like a bird in its cage.

You try not to focus too hard on the daring gleam in Jordan’s eyes but instead on the recoil as your fist slams into their right shoulder. It feels like hitting a brick wall with full speed. A knowing half smile tugs at the corner of their mouth, making you curse yourself for feeling your cheeks heat up.

The pain in your fingers doesn’t stop you from making another advance right after this failed one but they beat you to it. You feel the energy blast washing over you, snatching you off your feet in a matter of seconds.

Thanks to your quick reflexes, you manage to turn mid fall and land on your feet in a crouched position, softening the otherwise ankle crushing blow.

“Nice trick”, Jordan taunts and quickly switches to their male form again as you storm up to them, ready to tear down their body armor until your hand can clutch around their heart like theirs did to yours unknowingly.

What follows is a mishmash of hands and feet, kicks, and punches.

Feeling their muscles work with every movement begins to mess with your head. The sweat covered skin of their bicep under your palms also doesn’t help the least to get your thoughts back on track.

Just as you see your chances of winning waning thin, you manage to land a kick against the back of their knees that makes them buckle in surprise.

You wrap an arm around their neck, catching them in a headlock and demanding to be declared the triumphant. Somehow, they manage to gain just enough space in your grip to whirl around and press a featherlight kiss to the underside of your jaw as a distraction maneuver. And it fucking works.

Taken aback, you lower your guard for the fraction of a second just to be blown backwards by a precise hit to your ribcage. In a desperate attempt to gain some stability, you get a hold of their tank top’s collar.

Your intertwined groans echo through the still empty training room, searing right to the bottom of your stomach. A few strands of hair have escaped Jordan’s slick back ponytail.

Bodies pressed together, flashes of last night involuntarily invade your head. The booming bass and strobe light.

Jordan’s body pushing a stranger against the wall near the dance floor where you let loose with Marie and Emma. A swift changing in positions and Jordan’s dark eyes were finding you over the heads of the crowd as their acquaintance moved down on their neck.

The memory sends a shiver down your spine and their grip on your back straightens automatically. You don’t have to say a word for them to know what’s causing that haunted look on your face.

“I didn’t think it a possibility.” Their voice is barely above a whisper and before you can overthink it again, you grab their chin with your right hand and crash your lips down on theirs.

Sometime when stumbling to the nearest wall, Jordan becomes the impatient one, shoving you backwards until your back hits the hard concrete and you’re caged in between their arms on both sides of your head.

Anger and resentment come undone as you melt into their embrace.

The move of your lips getting more feverish, now tilting your face upwards to meet the new height difference.

Hands on hot skin, desperate panting, burning glances.

As Jordan’s fingertips brush along the waistband of your sweatpants, asking for an invite, everything in you protests against your decline.

Slowly you retreat, cheeks aflame, hair and feelings a mess, to state the obvious. “Class starts in twenty minutes.”

Jordan takes a step back and smooths out their tank top, putting on a casual demeanor to mask the fact that they were ready to risk it all.

On your way to the door, you regard them with a smug smile. “For the record, you also didn’t think that I could beat you in a fight. So, I hope you can handle two truths in one day.”

#jordan li #gen v jordan li #jordan li x reader #jordan li fanfiction #jordan li imagine #marie moreau #emma meyer #gen v #gen v amazon #gen v fanfiction #gen v spoilers #the boys universe #the boys

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syoddeye · 3 months

Text

the reward

ceo!price x reader / ~2.5k words

This can be considered the first half of part 4 of Business or Pleasure? my lil ceo!price x reader side project. Please enjoy! 🖤

Parts 1, 2, and 3

CW: hinted possessiveness, power imbalance, alcohol

The reward was never a choice. Cute, in hindsight, how you thought it was and politely declined to exit the car.

Mr. Price squashed your resolve with one look. Both of his eyebrows raised in an expression of almost tired disbelief, mouth a firm line, and a disapproving sound pushing through it. "Hmm. You sure? Store's open just for us, y'really going to make them stay on longer?"

Sufficiently guilt-tripped, you concede.

You expect the pair of sales associates to be miffed, all tight smiles and wringing hands, for working past posted hours. They are not. Quite the opposite. It makes you wonder the true reach of the man beside you.

John ushers you past the display of tote bags in the front of the store.

You try to protest. "But they're the most useful type here. The others are impractical."

You try to reason. "I can use it for work. For travel. See, my laptop will fit."

You want something closer to the reliable carry-all you currently own. He clicks his tongue as if you are an unruly pet, affectionately scolding. "You're not walking out of here 'til you pick something impractical. Think of it as an indulgence."

You are left to reluctantly marvel at the rows of clutches and handbags. They sit under warm, glowing lights designed to underscore the soft luster of their leather. The kind of brand to hide the price tags, you silently make estimates as you peruse. Just one could pay two month's rent.

A sales associate sidles up when you linger too long near a pinkish-gray, compact handbag. Her voice is low and bubbly, explaining the history of the silhouette and model, the leather and detailing. She shows the optional shoulder strap, threads it over your side, and insists you look in the mirror. Feels funny using a full-body mirror for an accessory, but it does make you like it more. A nicer outfit and you could pass for a real customer.

You meet John's gaze in the reflection. Comfortably settled in one of the shop's armchairs, he smiles languorously and nods.

Before you know it, John offers a shiny metal card to the associate, and you walk out of the store with a four-digit handbag.

In the car, it's as if nothing happened. John returns to his phone and padfolio, all business, and you sit slightly dumbfounded cradling a shopping bag. Whiplash does not even begin to cover the feeling.

He likes you, has to. Men, no matter how wealthy, do not spend this amount of money on people they do not care for. It is not your experience, at least. The gift is troubling, though. What precisely does it mean? What did drinks mean? What does his requisitioning you from Kyle mean? You've seen this show before, and it never ends well.

When the car pulls onto your street, it is fuel on the fire. Of course, John has access to employee information; you try not to dwell on the fact he shouldn't use it; there are policies against that. Clearly, he is not one for rules.

When Alex opens your door, John is on the phone, looking out his window. You make a split-second decision. You gather your things, murmur a goodbye, and then climb out of the car. Locking eyes with the bodyguard, you take advantage of his friendliness and mirror his warm energy. It works. Distracted, he does not notice the shopping bag left at the foot of your seat.

But John does. He calls your name as you attempt to distance yourself from the car, stopping you in your tracks.

"Forgetting something?"

Flustered and foiled, you retrieve the shopping bag. He smiles amusedly from his seat.

"Email me the notes. See you Monday, love."

"You're hiding something."

"Jordan, please. I've barely touched my coffee."

"There's got to be more to it," Jordan whispers excitedly over the edge of your desk, ignoring your withering look.

You do not lift your gaze from the packed, colorful calendar on the screen. "Like I told you over text and FaceTime, that's it. Mr. Price only needed me for notes for a partner meeting. He was impressed by the summary I wrote up for Kyle about Project Intercontinental."

As if summoned, a message pops up on screen.

kgarrick - online

> Need to speak with you about meeting the technology directors.

What meeting? He's already met with them this quarter. Nevertheless, you stand and smooth your skirt. "Boss man needs me, talk later?"

The other woman huffs. "Yeah, yeah. Talk later."

You slip into Kyle's office and shut the door. "What's this about the tech directors?"

Kyle smiles, but it does not quite reach his eyes. He gestures to the padded lounge chair across his desk. "Please."

Pins and needles. This was not about the directors.

"O…kay." You sink into the chair, back straight as a board.

He takes a moment to lean forward on his desk, elbows resting on the surface, one hand rubbing the knuckles of the other. "I understand John took you to meet with Graves."

"Yes, I was under the impression you knew." The fear that Price possibly lied about that instantly surfaces.

"I knew, told him it was fine. I'm curious about your first impression.

So that's it. Kyle wants to know more about the new contractor. You relax a bit and recall the sportive, if not roguish American. "Oh. Well, he is certainly different. I am curious if his company's style will align with ours, given how–"

Kyle raises a hand to stop you, and his smile is almost pained. "No, sorry, I meant John."

Your eyes widen a little in surprise. Crossing your legs, you force your fingers to lace around a knee. "I see. Um, he's...Assertive."

It prompts a snort of laughter, seemingly breaking Kyle's odd nervousness. "Sorry, go on."

Pursing your lips a moment, you tread carefully. "Perhaps 'confident' is the better term," It isn't. It is kinder. "Strategic and intelligent." Strategic in how he basically used you and intelligent but clueless with office equipment. You think to tag on 'generous', but rather not be forced to explain.

Kyle chuckles, and his grin slowly returns to an uncertain curve. "Did he talk to you much?"

Yes and no. Yet, what was the correct response? 'Yes, Kyle, and he admitted to using me as the adult equivalent of a ring of keys to a toddler or monkey to gauge Mr. Graves's attentiveness. Oh, and this was after he described my clothing in detail over the phone to an unknown party. Did I mention the five thousand pound gift back at my flat?' Complete honesty was out of the question.

"He did not ignore me. We had a polite conversation."

"Did he say anything about me? Ask?"

You smirk. "Only that you gave him your blessing."

The spot of levity is lost on him. Your smirk fades.

Kyle almost looks worried. "And he…He didn't…"

Your face heats. What does he know? Does he know about drinks? The message? The handbag? The conversation teeters into minefield territory. You play dumb. Best to let him get out with it. "What?"

"He didn't ask you to move over to his desk full-time?"

Relief floods your worried nerves, quelling the fretful thing in your chest. You understand now. Kyle doesn't want to lose his assistant. Your smile nearly splits your face. "No, he did not."

The man slumps some and chuckles. "Excellent. Had me worried. I don't think either of us could refuse if he asked, y'know."

That is a discomforting piece of knowledge.

"I still would," You reassure, lean forward, and tap the surface of his desk. "Now. Was that all? I don't know about you, but I've got work to do."

He shakes his head. "No, but you tell me if he tries to snipe you, yeah?"

The earnestness throws you, despite how accustomed you've grown to it during your tenure. It makes keeping this thing with Price a secret all the more difficult.

"Of course. Now. Message me when you decide on lunch, dates for the Mexico trip, and what you'd like to give me for my fifth anniversary since I know you've already forgotten."

"Shit. That's–?"

"Next Monday."

"Pick out something nice."

And you will. Just not Moynat nice.

The rest of Monday keeps you hellishly occupied. Your head's above water for the first time in the day, and it's nearly quitting time. Kyle's off at his last appointment, some check-in meeting on tax season preparations, when you power off your desktop. You slip on your coat, pack your bag, and discreetly slip off to the elevators. There's time to beat the evening rush.

The elevator arrives from a higher floor and for a moment, you briefly consider diving out of view. You come face-to-face with Alex and behind him, Mr. Price. Both of their faces shift for different reasons.

"Miss," Alex drawls.

You give the bodyguard a rigid smile, then glance at your employer.

"Going down?"

"I can–"

Alex holds the elevator doors open when they try to close, his smile warm and clueless. "C'mon in."

Price speaks when the car starts to descend. "You're not using your new bag."

Your eyes flick to Alex's back then focus on the LED panel indicating the floor. It feels inappropriate to talk about it in front of the other man, despite his presence on the 'errand'.

"I can't."

"Something wrong with it?"

"Yes, it's too nice."

Price chuckles and Alex's shoulders shudder in a clear attempt to suppress a laugh.

"I fail to see how that's a problem."

"Mr. Price, while my compensation is fair," You continue carefully, still avoiding looking at him. "It is not within my budget to afford luxury brands. If I turn up to the office with that nice of a bag, all of a sudden, people would talk. And besides, it's my bag, and I decided it is not for work."

You don't miss how he ignores the first part of your answer. "What's it for, then?"

"Socializing."

Do not look at him. Oh, what you would do for the elevator to stop.

"Socializing," He repeats, elongating the word as if it's in a foreign language. "Dates?"

He has to be deliberately trying to get under your skin.

"Yes," A single word. A confirmation and a warning.

"Go on many of those?"

Even Alex tenses, back muscles tightening beneath his suit jacket. Your head finally snaps toward Price, who, irritatingly, wears a controlled smile.

"Yes," You answer again and push through the absurd embarrassment. "My fair share."

He hums. "Your anniversary with us is next Monday, yeah?"

The sudden change in topic does not bode well. "Yes, sir."

"You free Friday?"

The lie is out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. "I have a date this Friday." Whatever this baffling situation is between you, it needs to stop. Should've all the way back at the malfunctioning copier. He does not need to know your 'date' is celebratory drinks with Jordan. You just need him to drop it.

It's as if the elevator car turns into an icebox. The mirth bleeds from Price's gaze, but his smile remains. "And Saturday?"

There is a tacit warning in his tone. In the slight turn of Alex's head in your periphery. Your mouth dries, and you swallow hard.

"I'm free on Saturday."

The lights come back on in his eyes, and miraculously, the car reaches the lobby. "Wonderful to hear. Pick you up at eight."

Alex steps aside to let you out.

"Have a good evening, miss," the bodyguard says softly as you pass before hitting the number for your office's floor to head back upstairs.

You meet eyes with Price as the doors close, and a shiver runs down your spine. It's unsettling. You can't tell if it was good or bad.

Thankfully, you do not run into Mr. Price the rest of the week. You take care not to. If Kyle suspects something from your excuses to sit out on meetings, avoiding any whiffs of the CEO, he says nothing. When you leave on Friday to meet Jordan, you take the stairs all the way down to the lobby and claim exercise. She wrinkles her nose at the idea of trekking a half hour away to a pub closer to yours, but after the first two rounds, she forgets her griping.

And after four rounds, you forget yourself. You slip up.

Giggling, you sip your gin and tonic, poking at the lime wedge. "The bartender reminds me of the place I went to with John–"

The way Jordan's face lights up makes you try to backpedal, but it's too late.

Her voice slurs some, part alcohol and part explosive excitement. "Waitwaitwait. John? Like capital 'J' John? Not my John? What place? When? Whatdoyoumean?!"

Through no small amount of lovable torment, she coaxes the story out. It is heavily redacted despite your inebriation, but now she knows. And she is not known for her tight-lippedness.

"Swear on your mother, you won't breathe a word."

"I swear."

"'Cause I'll tell MacTavish you steal–"

"I swear. Now. What are you going to wear for your date?"

Only then does it hit you: you know nothing about this…'date'. If it's anything like the other places you've accompanied him, it's somewhere beyond your wallet and comprehension.

Jordan might as well sit on your shoulder, the devil. "Message him. Ask. Bet it won't matter by the end of the evening."

"Shut it, I'm not gonna message him."

Yet, on the ride home in the taxi, you do. It takes a few tries, with the drunkenness making everything fuzzy and sluggish.

johnprice - invisible

Hi, what should i wear tomorrow?

It's late. You don't expect a reply. The phone nearly launches out of your hand when he swiftly messages back.

> Something nice. I liked the green dress.

The dress from the Christmas party. He remembered. Clearly, it made an impression, given his current fascination. Before you can respond, he messages again.

> Date go poorly?

> Might want to take this to text, love. Don't want to get chewed out for misuse of company resources.

He sends his personal number like it's nothing. Asks about your 'date' like it's nothing. Infuriatingly confusing man. Still, you save his contact information and switch platforms. You swear it's the gin moving your fingers, the liquid puppeteer.

Only texting because I wouldn't want to get you in trouble sir

And my date was wonderful

Were you possessed by a flirtatious spirit between the bar and cab?

> I wouldn't be the one getting into trouble.

Price is fishing for it. You oblige him.

What if I'm the trouble

It takes two, no, three minutes for him to reply. Worrying your lip, you think you've gone and royally fucked yourself now. Pushed the envelope too far, flew too close to the sun, all the turns of phrase. Then those three dots appear. You've really done it now.

> I know just what to do with you.

#call of duty #john price #captain john price #captain price #price x you #price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price x female reader #captain john price x you #price x female reader #cod fanfic #cod fic #ceo!john price

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melonpiemelon · 10 months

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STARB⟡Y

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

summary: After a sweet little coffee date, Miguel takes reader back to their place to bang it out

warnings: 18+, smut, afab reader, no use of y/n, p in v, breeding kink, biting, kinda rough sex, horny Miguel

Pls correct me if the Spanish is dumb

Read on ao3

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A slow wave of cool air breezes through the city, pushing past the crowds of people and strangers lingering on the sidewalk. You feel a chill run through your neck as the wind brushes your shoulders and seeps into your skin. The shadow underneath your feet fades away and blends into the steps outside the courthouse that you were standing on.

Your neck bends as you roll your shoulders back, looking up at the sky to notice gray clouds gathering together in the sky when you stretch out your back.

For the last three hours you’ve been sitting on a stale plastic chair listening but not really listening in on the mock trial you were asked to oversee when the representative defense attorney couldn’t show up.

It was a really simple ass case but you’ll never get those three hours of your life back. It started out as a quick trip to the office to send in the terms and conditions or whatever the fuck they’re called that lays out the details and consent forms of the next deal you’ll be doing with your client, to a mind numbingly long sit through of a liability case due to another fucking avenger absolutely demolishing some property. Fuck doing favors and fuck the avengers.

Maybe you should’ve taken Miguel up on his proposal of just dropping that shit off in the mail and skipping that meeting with your superior. Now you were drained of energy for the rest of the day and had the worst case of the munchies. Pregnancy wrecked your palate but at least you don’t crave weird shit like peanut butter on cucumbers.

You moaned to yourself after coming to terms with the fact you’ll have to drive again. Driving also took energy. That you don’t have. If you didn’t have to at least try looking like a normal human you would use your webs to swing through these streets and plop your ass down on someone’s comfy rooftop couch, but unfortunately for you, there was still the issue of keeping up public appearances.

Pretty ironic how you were a lawyer who broke the law everyday because of your work as a vigilante but honestly you weren’t one to care about the law unless it was able to be used to protect other people.

Walking out into the streets was always nerve wracking. You clutched the leather satchel at your side and put on your best “don’t fuck with me” face that always made strangers stay in their lane. It’s not that you were worried about someone mugging you or something (you could easily handle it), you just didn’t want to waste any more time. And New York often seemed to have at least one of those mother fuckers throughout the day that tried some bullshit.

Luckily for you, when you reached your car nothing was amiss and no one almost got robbed. It’s like the universe was rewarding you for the hard work it just put you through.

You opened the door to your green Mercedes Benz and sat down with a little shake. You felt like you could finally breathe for a second. All your work was done and after today you had two more free days to yourself. It was amazing. The thought of your upcoming date with Miguel sent butterflies to your stomach and you had to physically restrain yourself from squealing.

You checked the watch on your wrist that every person from the spider society also has, and went to see if you had any messages from your lover.

From: Miguel

Meet you at the coffee shop you like?

Whenever you’re done of course.

Your cheeks burned from the stretch of how hard you were smiling. He could read you like a book, and that coffee shop, your favorite coffee shop, had exactly the things you were craving and you jumped at the chance to eat there every time.

From: You

Yeah just got done!

See you there in 20? :))

From: Miguel

On My Way!

From: You

Miguel’s autocorrect made you chuckle a little after he sent his text. You checked your mirror and blind spots to make sure there wasn’t anyone around before you backed out of the parking spot.

It was a nice drive to the coffee shop that was located not too far away from your home. Definitely not walking distance but spiderwoman doesn’t need to walk anyways. It was perfect. It was vegan friendly, lgbtq owned, and poc owned. Pretty much couldn’t ask for more.

Oh wait you can.

This quaint shop also had cats. Fucking cats. It was a goddamn cat cafe. Customers were allowed to pet the lil kitties when they came to them and sometimes able to feed them. Yeah they were a bit fat but these cats were adorable as all hell. And Miguel loves cats. Whether he’ll admit it or not. They are similar in some ways.

At home it’s always funny to see him interacting with your black sphinx cause they have a love-hate relationship with one another. Sometimes they’ll cuddle but then Vader will give Miguel the hardest death glare when he steals all the attention from you. Miguel is no different though. He pouts when you ignore him to love up on your cat.

The cafe is also a fond reminder of the bond you two share as well. The first time an anomaly entered your world it made a mess of the block and the cafe got turned upside down due to the glitches. But the overwhelming amount of pressure that was on your shoulders got lifted by his appearance. He came barreling through his unknown portal and instantly got to work repressing the threat and fixing the timeline of what you soon would come to learn as “canon”. Upon seeing another person just like you, the connection was immediate. He looked at you through his dark blue and red mask and didn’t even have to ask the question. You were going with him, high on your admiration and enthusiasm for a new adventure. The two of you stood in front of the cafe and didn’t look back.

When you walked in you were greeted by a familiar face. You were a regular so the person at the register was elated to see you and welcomed you back with a smile then winked and pointed in the direction of the nearest window seat. There you saw Miguel, lost in thought while peering into the outside, looking magnificent as fuck in the style of your world. He had on a loose black button down with sleeves coming to his elbows and a collar that hung low and exposed the fine expanse of his chest. His pants were some pale blue denim jeans with a black belt that fit snug but wrapped around his waist perfectly and made you drool dreaming about what his ass looked like from behind. Fuck you’d have to praise Lyla later for equipping him in this slutty ass outfit.

Someone behind you coughed accusingly and you got pulled out of the mythical sight of your lover and went back to ordering a quick raspberry ice tea. Honestly you weren’t phased from being called out for your gawking, it just pissed you off that no one else seemed to care about his absolute beauty. Like, if you weren’t already dating him you are certain that you wouldn’t be able to keep your eyes off him. But it’s not surprising that no one else seemed to care, considering the people who frequent this shop, and not gonna lie, the only ones who can afford it, are stuck up arrogant motherfuckers who probably visit their plastic surgeons more often than their mothers.

After you got your large drink you beelined to where he was sitting, thank god he chose a booth, and slid right up beside him, basically leaving no space between you two. It was weird how he didn’t notice you yet and the look of surprise on his face when you wrapped your arm around his and leaned on him, had you giggling.

“Hola, no te vi entrar. When did you get here?” He takes his arms from your hold and places it on your waist, pulling you in closer so he can kiss your forehead.

“Not too long ago.” You lay your weight on his chest, molding softly against his hard body. “How long were you waiting for me?” His fingers fidget with the belt loops around your waist, abstimindely keeping you within his touch. His other hand sat atop the table, holding a warm coffee cup.

“Only for a couple of minutes.”

“You seemed like you were in your own world when I walked in. What were you thinking about?” Your eyes meet his brown ones, the same eyes that looked at you with so much love last night, right now are shining with an even stronger passion.

“Us.”

“Oh yeah? Was Lyla too much for you today? Aww did you miss me?”

“No eres mejor que ella, pero…sí. I did miss you.” He turns and looks away to hide the faint blush that was growing on his face. You laugh and put your hands on his cheek, moving him back so you can make eye contact with him.

“Hey it’s alright, between the two of us, I think we both had a pretty exhausting day.” You softly pressed your lips to the side of his mouth and the faint scent of coffee made its way into your nostrils. He grabs a hold on one of your hands and squeezes it. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He takes a shortened breath in when you kiss him and before you could break the moment, he’s using his large hand to hold your neck and tilt your chin up to fully embrace his mouth over yours. You easily melt against him and he further entices you to keep moving against him, his lips pushing all the way against yours and his tongue prodding gently at the entrance into your mouth. You accept him instantly and the taste of the sweetener he used in his coffee dances on your taste buds when your tongues meet and tangle with each other. He was consuming you with his fervor and you disregarded the fact you couldn’t breathe. The feeling of affection that coursed through your veins heightened when he pulled away and traced your swollen and plump lips with his thumb. He looked down at you with hooded eyes and ran his tongue over his fangs that were retracted. You felt a rush of excitement at the sight and pulled him in for another kiss to drown in. He didn’t hesitate to engulf you once again but you noticed he was holding himself back to not knick you with the sharpness of his fangs. This made you smirk into the kiss and gently take his bottom lip with your teeth and wrap your hands around his neck and trail your fingers at the base of his hairline. He groaned into your mouth and pulled back to let you get some air.

“Mierda, you make me lose control so easily.” He whispered into your mouth and gave you another kiss on your lips. Finalizing the moment when he pulled away and ran his finger down the side of your face and he pressed his forehead against yours. His shoulders raised as he inhaled your scent, grounding himself in the present moment. His eyes closed, trying to take in all that he could sense, especially the part of your signature that had the same flowery essence of your guys daughter.

“Did you eat anything yet?” You ask him when his eyes open back up to regard you with adoration.

He shakes his head. And you smile and take out your wallet.

“Imma go get a sandwich or something. Want anything?”

He glances over to the menu for a moment, then returns to you with a nod. “Mm I’ll try the chickpea Buddha bowl.”

“Kay, I’ll be back in a bit. Te amo!” You give his thigh a squeeze and slip out the booth with a warm smile to get back in line.

He watches intensely at you from behind while you walk away, looking at your full hips and legs as they move gracefully from one place to the next. Testing himself to see how long he can stare at your ass before getting called a creep. It all makes his hands clench into fists. The flavor of your tea still sat in his mouth after your kisses, and he shamefully thought of something else that would taste sweet on his tongue right now.

He needed you so bad and it was taking all of his willpower to hold back from popping a semi. He was so focused in the process of directing his blood anywhere else that he forgot about how that would look to others. So when you returned with the food and an eyebrow raised he was speechless.

“The fuck you looking like that for?” You laugh and sit right next to him again. On the tray you had a blt avocado melt with some chips, and the bowl right next to it. You handed his food over with the silverware and he shoved a bite into his mouth pretty quickly to avoid saying anything. “Lookin like you're about to shit yourself.”

He narrows his eyes at you and takes another bite. You just smirk and hit your elbow with his and dig in to your own meal. “Mmm fuck” you say inbetween bites. Moaning at the deliciousness of the food. Lost in your own world of sensation.

He stares at you agape, not believing the sounds he’s hearing coming from your mouth over food. He feels his dick twitch in his pants but ignores it to put all his attention on his own food, drowning out your noises and focusing solely on the motions of eating. He was robotic at this point. Nodding his head and saying a few “mhms” whenever you would give a quip about something.

“Miguel, did you even hear me?” You’ve stopped eating and are starting right at him. Face serious and waiting for his reply.

He can’t make eye contact with you and goes to take a drink of his coffee but his escape was stopped by the emptiness of the cup and the bowl.

He turns his head slowly and meets your eyes, praying he doesn’t look too guilty.

Wrong.

You roll your eyes and sigh heavily. Eyes piercing into his. “As I was saying, I think you should add this shops macaroons to the spider society cause they’re fucking delicious. Honestly it would be super cute or whatever, like think about it. Spiderman flavored macaroons!” You beam at him and he sits there confused on how your mood changed so quickly. He thought he was a dead man earlier for sure. But when he realizes what you were talking about he laughs out loud.

“Spiderman flavored macaroons?” He looks at you with disbelief.

“Yeah! I mean it’s not unreasonable considering we have Miguel burgers already.” You shrug.

“Hold on, what?” He stops in his tracks.

“Oh shit you didn’t know?” You place a hand on your mouth and chuckle into it. He looks at you beyond confused and tries to make sense of what you just said.

“Sooo there’s these burgers in the cafeteria. Annnd they have your design on them. Not my idea by the way. But they’re actually really good.” You explain.

“I can’t believe no one ever informed me about this.” He shakes his head.

“Well you do sit alone in that lab religiously.”

“Okay but how do you expect them to make spiderman flavored macaroons? It sounds so ridiculous.”

“I don’t know, have them be strawberry flavored or something. And red?”

“You’re insane.”

“You love me.”

He sighs and kisses your hand. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good because I might have already started a petition and got the chefs in on it.”

He looks at you in awe and laughs to himself. “Should’ve expected that from the start.”

He brings you closer to his side again and watches as you finish your food. The sun was starting to set over the city and the sky crowned a beautiful red dome over them. The neon signs from the surrounding buildings were beginning to glow and the low jazz music of the cafe played smoothly throughout the shop.

“Gods I’m full.” You lean your head back and pat your stomach. “You get enough to eat?” You ask him. He was built like a fridge so you thought a simple bowl probably wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him.

“Mhm. Vegan bowls provide a lot of healthy protein.”

“Ah I see. Well good. Cause you’ll need your stamina for later. Let’s go.” You give him a wink and stand up, your keys jingling and begin to walk out to the car. His eyes go wide and his legs scramble up to follow you.

His body hums in anticipation, knowing exactly what you meant. And he wishes his pants weren’t so god damn tight because sooner than later he will be uncomfortably straining against them.

“Gracias.” He says when you hold the door for him. Intentionality staying back a few paces to stare at his phat ass.

“Where are you parked?” He looks over his shoulder to you, placing a hand on his small waist. You bite your lip and look up at him, delighting in the way his adams apple bob.

“Around the corner. Here, you drive.” Tossing him the keys, they fly in the air for a couple seconds and easily fall into the palm of his hand. You catch up to him and walk in place at his side, interlocking your fingers and leaning on the large muscles of his arms.

“Right here.” You point at the area you parked in and take off to get into the passenger's seat and plug in your aux. You started playing “moments in love” when Miguel entered and adjusted the seat and mirror.

When you guys got onto the street he was focused on driving and the sight of his profile glowing from the sun illuminated him and you were so enraptured by his beauty that you missed the moment when he moved his arm from the shift, to your thigh.

You looked down at the hand that had sneakily found its way onto you and started gently rubbing your muscles through your pants. Your face got hot and a chill shot down your spine. You resisted looking at his smug face to not feed his ego as he teased you.

The people lingering on the streets outside started becoming very interesting to you, when a bump in the road caused his hand to ride up higher on your thigh, explicitly close to your clothed heat. And he showed no signs of moving it back.

“Seven more minutes.” He said plainly and tapped the steering wheel. Your thighs clenched together unintentionally and it made your breath hitch. You two would be home soon. But his teasing made it feel like those seven minutes would be an eternity.

You tried sitting patiently but he kept squeezing your thigh, even through your efforts of keeping his hand still. Your breathing was becoming ragged and music in the background pounded in your ears and the bass thrummed in your chest as it got louder.

The car pulled into the complex’s parking garage and when Miguel shut the engine down, you got out as quickly as possible, loudly shutting the door behind you, but he was quicker. Already on your side and slamming you into the side of the car, it shook with the impact of your bodies and you moaned loudly when he pressed himself into your ass and grabbed your hips, clawing at their sides to untuck your shirt and feel the soft mound of your plush stomach.

“Fuck-” You exhaled and felt his hot tongue against the side of your neck. Sucking harshly on the skin.

He pulled down at the collar of your shirt, exposing your shoulder to the cool air and biting down, breaking the skin in the process. He let out a throaty groan and you could feel him straining against his jeans behind you. His fangs dripped with their venom but you could care less because his bite was harmless to you and only further served as a building factor of your lust.

“Mig-Miguel, inside.” You said through gasps. As needy as you are right now, you don’t want to traumatize your neighbors or random pedestrians.

He licked your shoulder where he bit and lapped up the small amount of blood that leaked out. He then used his force to turn you around and kiss you ravishingly.

He sucked your face like candy and it left you panting. Desperate for more of his touch as you stood in place and saw the bloodshot color of his eyes.

“Come on.” He takes you by the wrist and drags you to your door, pinning you again at the door, mouth on you once more and hands full of your ass. You in return had a fist full of his hair and dug your nails into his back.

He almost broke the door while unlocking it and turned to close it, not wasting any time to get back to you. In his rush he picked you up and set you on the counter.

“You are so gorgeous today my love.” Miguel said and tossed the keys and threw the blazer off your shoulders, immediately pressing his face into your chest and kissing down your stomach.

“Me? Fuck, do you even realize how insanely hot you look in those clothes.” You breathed hard as he undid the buttons to your shirt and moved his hand underneath the clothing, cupping your breast and kissing your neck, marking more hickies to bloom and admire later.

You moaned when he licked at a particular sensitive spot and released your boobs from their constraints. Your nipples pebbled hard at the exposure to the air and Miguel dived back down into your chest to take one into his mouth. A wave of pleasure shot straight to your core as he alternated between both nipples, sucking hard and biting gently, making sure he didn’t puncture your breasts with his fangs.

You squeezed his waist that was slotted in between your legs to signal that you wanted more. Needed more. He wasn’t going fast enough for you after you spent all day waiting in anticipation for this.

“Hurry the fuck up.” You whined and slid your hand down his chest to his waist. Pulling him up to kiss you.

“Patience mi amor.” He entered your mouth hastily and pushed against your tongue but before you could make it deeper he left you with a trail of spit and pushed you farther back onto the counter.

He grabbed a hold of your waist and pulled hard. The black pants you were wearing slid right down off your ankles easily and he hurriedly placed himself back in between your thighs and kissed the sensitive area within your thighs that made you shake, but he gripped you tightly, claws retracted and poking at your smooth skin to make sure you don’t move.

“Oh shit.” You breathe out when you feel him getting closer to your core. He throbs in his pants when he notices the dark spot on your panties, showing how wet you are for him already. He breathes hotly over your cunt and before you can predict it, he puts his mouth over you, licking into the lace and salivating over the slight taste of you he can get from that.

He pushes them to the side and licks expectantly up your pussy, swallowing the juices and moaning at the flavor. He makes sure to avoid your clit for now and uses his tongue to enter you. The foreign prod of his appendage makes you jolt and whimper loudly. He looks up to see you watching with lust as he eats you out. His mouth glistened with your essence and he looked like a man dying of thirst as he drank from your pussy. Moving his tongue back and forth against your tight walls and adding a thick finger into the mix. He had to use his other hand to push down on your stomach to keep your hips from bucking up into him and the more you moaned and cried, the further it stirred him on. He lifts his head for a second, tongue darting against his lips, chin wet with your slick, and smiles to himself when he rips your panties apart. Eager to see your lower half in its entirety. You were too blown out with pleasure to care, and when he finally put his tongue on your sensitive bud, you screamed, calling out his name and pulling on his hair roughly.

He groaned at the feel of your nails digging into his scalp, urging him to swallow you harder. The sweet sounds of ecstasy coming from you rang in his ears like his favorite song. He kept flicking his tongue against your clit and shoved two fingers inside, fucking you with his hand at a pace that made you see stars. Your walls stretched at the intrusion of his large fingers and fluttered against him. He was breaking you at the seams and your voice raised an octave at the incoming threat of your climax.

You tried to say something but could only squeeze his head with your thighs and stutter “I-I-I…” before crashing into oblivion and shaking intensely with the strong wave of pleasure.

“That’s it, good.” He praises and removes his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth and licking the juices clean. You breathe hard and watch as he makes eye contact with you while tasting your come off his fingers. Your pussy clenched around nothing and craved to be filled again. Miguel leaned down and put his hand on the counter to kiss your face and force open your mouth to make you taste yourself on him, salty with a sweet tang to it.

“Can you come for me again sweetheart?” He says into your ear and drags you back down the counter to flip you around onto your stomach. You heard the sound of his belt unbuckling before you could nod your head in response. “Fuck, you’re magnificent.” He breathily says when you perk your ass up for him and reach underneath to spread yourself open.

“Please Miguel. Now.” You look back over your shoulder and watch as he grunts and grabs your ass, lining himself up against you while coating his hard long dick in your wetness spreading himself against your folds.

He moaned loudly as he pressed against you and slowly entered. Stretching you thin and making you wail as you take the tip of his thick cock.

He bottoms out and leans over your back to kiss in between your shoulder blades, rubbing the sides of your hips gently before beginning to thrust. He breathes in through his teeth at how tight your cunt is clenching against him. “Fuck- you take me so well.” He moans.

Your hips hit the counter and the fat on your ass jiggles with the recoil of his heavy and powerful thrusts that pick up in speed. Your nails scratch against the counter top and your mouth is open from the constant moaning he is causing. The sounds of skin slapping each other fill the room as he continues pounding into you from behind, whispering praises of how good you are through grunts.

His grip on your waist is deadly and you’re sure it’s gonna bruise in the morning but his dick is too divine with the way it’s moving inside you, molding your insides to the shape of him and hitting your g-spot every now and then. He fucked you ruthlessly, using both his hands to pile drive into you and slap your ass.

“Such a needy fucking cunt.” He increased the pace of his thrusts and you tried to sloppily keep up with the pace by pushing your hips back into him but he ignored that and kept a hold on your hips, forcing you onto his dick like his own personal cocksleeve. “Begging me to fill it up with my come. Is that what you want, querida?”

“Yes.” You say softly, eyes closed and exhausted from how hard he was fucking you.

“Say it.” He slaps your ass hard, leaving a red palm mark and soothing it with his hand immediately afterwards.

“Fuck- yes! I want it.” He grabbed your chin and turned your neck to make you look him in the eye, cracking it in the process, the joints popping loudly at the rough movements.

“Want what?” He didn’t stop thrusting inside you and you whimpered at the intensity of his gaze. Moaning at the feel of veins dragging against you.

“Want you to- to come inside.” He smirks and releases your face, throwing his head back as he focuses on the feeling of your wet pussy enveloping him from all around.

“That’s right mami. You've been so good for me. So so good.” He moans and moves a hand down to rub at your clit, your reaction was evident in the spike in your voice and the way you clenched so hard you almost shoved him out. “Fuck.”

You bite your hand to keep from screaming as his hips slap roughly against your ass and his fingers swirl around your sensitive clit.

“Gonna fuck another baby into you-shit!” He grunts out and his thrusts become erratic as he gets closer to finishing, the heat of your walls clouds his mind as the stutter of your folds against him edge him and he increases the speed of his hand to make you come first.

“Yesyesyesyes!” You say in between moans and roll your eyes back. “Miguel, I'm so close!”

He pants heavily behind you and you become undone when he thrusts particularly hard against that one spot deep inside you, sliding against it and hitting your womb. His cock twitched inside you as you came and squeezed him tightly. The rush he felt made him increase his thrusts and he pounded hard against you, voice choking up in between moans as you came down from your high and milked his dick with your pussy.

He presses his chest against your back and buries himself deeply. “m-me estoy viniendo” he releases inside you and you feel the wet warmth spill within you as he coats your walls and breathes heavily against your ear.

He kisses the side of your face sweetly, pushing some loose strands of your hair behind your ear and whimpers when you clench around him again.

He leans on his arm to put some of his weight off of you as the both of you catch your breath.

Your limbs are weak and muscles sore when he pulls out of you. The counter being the only thing holding you upright until he takes you into his arms, carrying you to the bed and setting you down gently. His seed trickles out of you onto the sheets and he moves into the bathroom to bring back a cloth and clean you up. Wiping off the sweat on your body and the mess in between your legs carefully to not overstimulate you.

You lean back on the pillow and reach over for him. He smiles and pulls the blankets over your bodies then wraps an arm around you, closing his eyes and kissing your cheek and resting his head on your shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too mi corazòn”

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #miguel x you #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara smut #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara

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photo1030 · 1 year

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Leather and Lace - Chapter 15: Feelings Revealed

PART 1 - I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU

Summary: You finally confront Arthur about how you feel about him, and force him to make a decision, whether you are ready for the answer or not.

*This is a long one and will be broken up into multiple parts.

*Special thanks to the wonderfully talented @rivetingrosie4 for beta reading this for me.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

**This exquisite image comes from @kmartkiddieisle

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4 @bimbo-dollz @pine4pple-b0i @redwritr @kuri-chans-blog @queer-sadie-adler @joelmillerswifey @gimmethosedaddymilkers @pcotarelo @delilah-grimes @maemortem @wistfulwisteriawitch @lilacxxdreams @plumbeeb @mentallyillfrogs @absolutegeek @spurz @sophiaj650 @uniqueclodzinevoid @lookingformaurice @pawoui @randomidk-123 @yyiikes @eddiemetalheadmunson @twola

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know.

Arthur isn’t sure how it happened. He let his guard down, that’s for damn sure. Some bounty hunter had recognized him when you and Arthur were in Ourey last week. He had a tip that Arthur was in the area, but not sure exactly where. And as luck would have it, the hunter was in the saloon for a drink when he just happened to glance over his shoulder and see the very man he was looking for sitting at a table in the corner with a lady, chatting away without worry, like the world wasn't on his back.

Earlier this morning, Josiah Trelawny had come to the camp, asking if you could tend to one of the locals in need of medical attention. There still aren't too many doctors in this area, and this particular fellow is a friend of Josiah's. Dutch agreed to let you go, as long as you got paid for your trouble, of course. And, naturally, Arthur insisted that he be your escort.

After the two of you had made a brief stop in town for needed medical supplies, this bounty hunter spotted Arthur again. He followed the two of you at a distance, careful to not let Arthur catch on that he was being followed. The hunter patiently lingered in the woods that lined the house while you two tended to the sick individual. And once you had left the homestead, he tailed you and Arthur, waiting for the opportunity to take down one, Arthur Morgan.

And now, this bounty hunter has you as his hostage.

The clouds in the sky dance playfully around the sun, alternating sunlight and shadows upon the Earth's surface below as the three of you stand in the clearing. The bounty hunter pulls you tight against him as your hands clutch at his forearm, which has a vice-grip around your shoulders. He holds a well-used revolver to your head with the other. His hot breath carries across your neck and stinks of tooth-rot as his face hovers close to yours. You can feel his torso and hips dig into your backside and it makes your skin just crawl with repulsion.

But the hunter is not focused on you. He stares past your shoulder at the man who is his main target. A sneer of superiority crosses the hunter's lips, exposing his blackened and snaggled teeth. He triumphantly displays his upper hand to Arthur, elated that he has discovered the notorious outlaw's weakness. You.

You watch Arthur's expression turn from surprise at being snuck up on, to one of outrage. His jaw clenches, and you can see the muscles of his face twitch as he grits his teeth together. His beautiful blue eyes, always a beacon for you to stare into, have turned hard and icy gray. Arthur's shoulders square and set, seeming to add another few inches to his already intimidating stature. Although you have heard of how menacing Arthur Morgan can be, you have rarely seen it yourself in person. And it is a terrifying thing to witness. In fact, the last time you saw him this angry was the day the two of you met. And unfortunately, it was a similar scenario then, as well.

"Let her go," Arthur grits out in a low, calm voice. "She ain’t got nothing to do with this."

But the bounty hunter only laughs at Arthur's request, as if it is the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "Since when do you give a damn about anyone else, Morgan? Hmmm?" And then the hunter's face changes to an exaggeratedly surprised expression as if he just had a profound realization. "Oooo, wait a minute now. You like this one, don’t you, Morgan?" He turns his face into yours just slightly, but keeps his steely eyes trained on Arthur. "I can see why. She’s real nice." He begins to rub his face along yours, taunting Arthur. "Nice and soft. Skin so pretty. It'd be a real shame if something were to happen to this face." His hand creeps up to cup under your chin, pulling your head back to him even tighter as he shoves the barrel of his gun harder into your temple, causing a quick and soft gasp to escape your dry lips.

Arthur's face contorts just slightly, breaking his cold exterior for just a fraction of a second. And in doing so, it reveals to the hunter that he has indeed hit a nerve, causing a smug smile to dance across his mouth.

"You best get your damn grimy hands off of her," Arthur threatens, his voice almost a growl now and his hands balling into fists of rage. "I ain't gonna tell you again." Arthur's warning sends shivers down your spine as you hear the words drop from his lips. His movements and tone are so slow and deliberate, with a menacing air that radiates off of his body so acutely that you almost do not recognize the man standing in front of you.

The bounty hunter just grins horribly and opens his mouth to drag his tongue along your cheek, further provoking Arthur. The act makes you close your eyes and whimper in disgust. You slowly open your eyes again and keep them on Arthur, not wavering from his gaze. You don’t cry or beg while being held by this pig, but remain perfectly still. The only thing that betrays your anxiety is how your body trembles ever so slightly from your broken breathing.

Arthur can clearly see the fear in your wide eyes. It makes him angry--both at this man, and at himself, for putting you in this situation. He will kill this man for his transgression. There is no doubt about that. It's not as if Arthur likes killing. But he has killed men for far less noble reasons than protecting you. So it stands to reason that this man's end is most certainly inevitable now.

As you stand there with the cold metal of a gun barrel digging into your temple, and with this horrible man pressed against you, you suddenly realize that the reason you are afraid is not so much that you could die right now, but that you could die without Arthur knowing that you love him. Before this moment, you have never divulged your heart's secret to him. And now, you may never get a chance to. You may never hold him or to ever know what it is like to properly kiss him. And worse yet, you'd never know if Arthur ever felt the same about you in return.

As the two men stare each other down, the air goes very still—as quiet as a cemetery at night. You can see Arthur's muscles tense like a spring ready to snap. Your chest begins to heave, drawing air into your lungs much faster now. Your heart races with anticipation. You watch Arthur like a hawk, your gaze never wavering from his. And then you see it. You see Arthur's eyes cast down ever so slightly. The hunter doesn't even notice, but you do. And your eyes go even wider with the recognition of it. It's a clear signal of which direction you will need to move.

Faster than what seems humanly possible, Arthur's body explodes into motion, pulling his gun from its holster. The mere second you see his muscles twitch, you let your body go absolutely limp like a wet string in the hunter's grasp. You slip through the man’s arms and drop down to his feet, crumpling hard to the ground. You cover your head with your hands and your knee knocks into your jaw as you curl into a ball as tightly as possible.

Three gunshots crack loudly through the air, echoing off of the treeline and ringing in your ears. You hear a loud, wet thud next to you, thick and heavy as a body hits the dirt. You are hesitant to look up, but you quickly realize that it can't be Arthur. The sound is too close in proximity to you to be him. You slowly lift your head and look over to see the bounty hunter lying motionless next to you. His eyes are wide open and still carrying the look of shock in them. You take quick note of the red weeping holes in his chest. Of the three shots that rang out, two were fired by Arthur, both hitting the hunter with deadly accuracy, with the third shot being a feeble attempt by the hunter to squeeze off a hit before bullets tore through his chest and he slumped to the ground.

But it is silent once again, now. The only sound you hear is your own heavy, terrified breathing as the smell of gunpowder lingers in the air. You stare at the dead man, confirming that he will not be a threat to you any longer. Speechless, you then turn your wide and shining eyes up at Arthur, still trying to catch your breath. Arthur stands perfectly still, a calm now settling over him. This is not a new sight for him, but one that he has been forced to pursue repeatedly. While you are sitting in the dirt, stunned, Arthur seems unphased by the dead body lying ungracefully in a heap on the ground. Sighing, he holsters his gun and slowly walks over to you.

Arthur looks down at you, tilting his head slightly. "You ok?" His voice is soft and concerned. You can only nod silently as he extends his hand down to help you stand.

You place your trembling hand into his much larger one. And in this very moment, the strength that you find there provides a comfort to you that you could not have possibly imagined. His other hand slides under your elbow, providing extra support as he carefully assists you to stand, checking that you have not been harmed in any way.

Once you've come to your feet, you suddenly launch yourself into Arthur's chest, throwing your arms tightly around his neck before he can stop you. For you, it is the safest place to be right now. Your eyes screw shut as you bury your face into the crook of his neck, your arms encircling his shoulders as you cling to him tightly. And instead of recoiling, Arthur evenly returns the gesture. A flood of relief washes over him, now that you are safe in his arms. You feel his strong arms circle around your waist and back, holding you securely to his broad chest as his chin drops to hover above your shoulder, his cheek pressed into your hair.

You still have yet to cry, but you are trembling terribly. And he holds you even closer, his hand sliding up to cradle your head now, in an effort to soothe your shaking. "It's alright," his voice floats from his lips as they hover next to your ear. "I got ya, girl. I always got you."

The two of you stay this way for several minutes, not another word spoken. You feel the nervous energy drain from you as Arthur holds you to him. His body pulls it from you and replaces it with his own body heat. Finally, you pull back from him and you gaze into each other's eyes. Your lids flutter at the wave of love you feel for him. Your gaze floats from his vividly blue eyes to his lips. You want so desperately to kiss him.

Arthur's breathing hitches slightly as he notices your chest beginning to float up and down as your heart rate speeds up at the thought of it. He catches you studying his face, your eyes lingering on his mouth. Your hands begin to slide from behind his neck, and across the plane of his shoulders, before gliding down along his arms. Your hands grasp slightly at the bulk of the muscles they find there as they travel. And suddenly, your fingers feel something wet. The quick change in sensation yanks you from your romantic reverie. You look away from his face and down to where your right hand lingers on his bicep and see bright crimson red seeping through the fabric of his green shirt.

"Your arm!" you gasp softly, blinking the fog away from your mind. The sight of Arthur's blood sharply startles you and quickly pulls your mind out of the clouds.

Confused, Arthur stares at you for a moment, not even paying attention to what you're saying, before looking down at himself. He sees the blood on his shirt from where the hunter's stray bullet cut across his arm, but quickly dismisses it. "It’s just a graze, I’m alright." He gives you a weak smile.

"We need to wrap this," you stutter, trying to collect your thoughts and pull yourself together. Looking around for your horse, you whistle for Blue as Arthur has taught you. The horse picks his head up at the sound and quickly comes trotting over to you from the bushes where he's been grazing. You hurry to get bandages out of your saddle bag and begin to wrap the cotton around Arthur's arm to quell the bleeding. Arthur says nothing, but simply watches your every move as you work. A grin pulls at his lips as he watches how you fuss over him, amused at how your attention has been drastically redirected. His eyes cascade from your beautiful hair, now a disheveled mess, and over your face before settling to your hands and delicate fingers, now painted red with his blood.

Suddenly, off in the distance, you begin to hear voices and hoofbeats. Arthur's head snaps up to attention, his eyes narrowing as he tries to focus on the direction it’s coming from. It could be colleagues of the bounty hunter, or it could simply be passers-by. But either way, the two of you should not be found with a dead man. As you tie-off the bandage around his bicep, Arthur sets his hands on both of your arms in urgency. "C'mon, we need to get out of here."

-------------------------------------

Thankfully, you and Arthur make it back to camp with no more distractions after that. Once you arrive home, you quickly pull Arthur to your med tent to stitch up the gash in his arm from the bullet graze. With that properly taken care of, you split up and head to your own tents to get cleaned up and settle down after the afternoon's events. Eventually, you both wander back to join the rest of the gang who have gathered around the main fire, where you are met with curious faces when they notice Arthur's bandage and the exhausted expressions upon both your faces. With a cup of hot coffee in your hand (and a whiskey bottle in Arthur's) you begin to recount the day's events about the bounty hunter to your friends.

"It's a good thing Arthur was there, then," suggests Abigail when you finish speaking, her eyes dancing back and forth between you and Arthur with a soft approving smile on her face.

From where he sits perched upon an overturned crate, Micah snorts a laugh of disbelief at her statement. "Well, that’s one way to look at it." He leans over to spit dismissively into the grass at his feet. "The way I see it, that piece of shit was there for Arthur, not her," he emphasizes with a wave in your direction. "She wouldn't have been in trouble in the first place if it weren't for him. So it’s more like Arthur was damn lucky he was able to pull that off without getting either of their asses shot. No?"

Leave it to Micah Bell to try and stir things up. Especially when it comes to Arthur.

You pitch a heated glare at Micah over the plumes of smoke that dance in the air, one that matches the burning embers that you all are sitting around. "You have no idea what you're even talki-"

"He’s right," Arthur confesses, cutting you off mid-sentence before you can rant and tear into the weasley man sitting across from you. He takes another gulp from the whiskey bottle and casually stretches his leg out a bit and resettles his weight to get more comfortable. You snap your head to look from Micah to Arthur now, his statement halting you in your tracks. You simply stare incredulously at Arthur, eyes blinking in disbelief.

"I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you just said," the sarcasm dripping from your voice as you shake your head at this nonsense. "It sounds like you said that 'Micah Bell is right'?"

"If that guy hadn’t known me, he may have just passed us by." Arthur keeps his tone calm and stares into your eyes as if to drill this belief into your stubborn head.

"Or he would have just killed us both!" you interject, your voice getting more annoyed by the second as you ball the fabric of your skirt into your hands.

"I shouldn’t have taken you out of camp," he argues back stubbornly, his grip tightening on the neck of the whiskey bottle in his hand. "Should've had Charles do it."

"You always do th-!" your voice raises now as you start to get angry.

"Either way, it’s done now," Dutch's deep voice booms sharply from where he’s sitting by the fire. His voice cuts through the mounting tension between you and Arthur, his hand slicing through the air in the finality of discussion. "No harm done. (Y/N)’s fine, that fella’s dead, Arthur is in one piece. It's over." Like a parent reprimanding his children, Dutch's tone is firm and unyielding in ending this argument before it can even begin. His dark eyes dart menacingly back and forth between you and Arthur, just waiting for any protest.

You bite your tongue as you hold Arthur's gaze with an unspoken irritation. After a moment of silence, Arthur abruptly gets up and storms off, intent on hiding away in his tent before he can say or do something stupid that he'll regret.

Your eyes follow him, glaring angrily out of frustration, desperately trying to ignore the stinging sensation of tears about to spill forth. The only sound to be heard is the crackling and popping of the fire in front of you.

From where she sits next to you, Abigail places a comforting hand upon your arm and sighs in disappointment. "Just let it go, (Y/N). Let him wallow."

------------------------

The next few days are odd, to say the least. Arthur isn't specifically ignoring you, but he is definitely distracted and in his own head. There is much work to do in camp, so the distraction is welcome, but he is certainly conflicted. A few days ago, he was finally ready to sit you down and profess his affections for you; to finally come clean and speak out loud what has been rolling around in his head and bubbling in his heart for quite some time. But now, that horrible self-doubt is creeping its way back in, like ivy that climbs up the garden wall. And he feels guilty about it, too. One minute you two are inseparable, the next he won't come near you with a ten-foot pole. It has to be confusing to you, he figures. It has to be, seeing as it confuses the hell out of him, too.

Today, Arthur and Micah are riding out to follow a lead on a job. Normally, Arthur does not care to work jobs with Micah. But with John and Javier out on another route, and Bill and Charles each following their own leads, these two men are left for Dutch to send out. The two set out and make their way over to the next town to meet a man about a tip on a supply run. And with Arthur being quieter than usual, it doesn't take long for Micah to start running his mouth.

"You still poutin' over that mess with the bounty hunter, Morgan?" Micah glances over at the other man and his horse, a merciless tease in his voice as he pokes at what he knows is still a sensitive subject.

Arthur gives no answer except more silence and a scowl that deepens as he sits stiffly in his saddle while they travel the dusty road.

Micah gives a slight shrug at Arthur's lack of response. "Maybe that was an eye-opening experience?"

"What in the hell are you going on about now, Micah?" the outlaw asks irritably, finally giving Micah a brief glance in acknowledgement.

"Oh I don't know, I'm just thinking out loud is all," he says, feigning innocence. "But I'm just wondering if (Y/N) is really meant for this kind of life."

Arthur says nothing, but his eyes shift from Micah back to the path ahead of them at the thought. Micah takes quick notice at how Arthur's shoulders tense and his eyes become harder.

"I'm starting to wonder if she'd be better off without you, Arthur. I mean, let's be honest, she really don't fit in too well with the likes of us, now does she?" Micah pauses to gauge the reaction. And he sneers to see he's succeeding in getting under Arthur's skin and decides to keep prodding. "If you really like (Y/N) that much, maybe you should just stay away from her. She'd be a hell of a lot safer that way, don't you think?" Micah smirks to himself as he plants the seed into Arthur's brain. But of course, he'd swoop in on you in a heartbeat if Arthur were out of the way. “It's kinda selfish if you ask me, cowpoke.”

"Yeah, well good thing I didn’t ask you!" Arthur shouts, finally tired of Micah's needling.

Micah drops the reins of his horse for a moment and holds his hands up in surrender. "Now hold on, I didn't mean anything by it. Like I said, I'm just talking out loud here. But one of these days, that woman is gonna realize she don’t belong here with us, Arthur. And you’ll wake up one morning, or come back to camp, and..." he makes a gesture with his hand like smoke dissipating into the air, "... she’ll be gone.”

This statement makes Arthur freeze in his tracks. Although this is an idea that has been festering in the back of his mind for a while now, it is something he is not prepared to hear out loud. And certainly not something to be pointed out by the likes of Micah Bell. "Can you just shut your mouth for one damn moment so we can get this job done?!" Arthur snaps.

Micah says nothing, but holds his hands up again with a shrug.

This conversation germinates in Arthur's mind and puts him in a foul mood for days afterwards. He keeps a distance from everyone, including you. You don’t take too much offense to it at first, since you understand that Arthur sometimes gets in his own head, often needing solitude for lengths of time. Especially after running a job with Micah Bell. In fact, the space is actually a bit convenient right now, since you're trying to keep away from Arthur as well.

The run-in with the bounty hunter has forced you to take a hard look at your situation. You need to decide if you should finally confront Arthur and tell him how you feel about him. The thought of losing him the other day was almost too much for you to bear. But you are also well aware of Arthur's misgivings about personal attachments. You do not want to force Arthur into a scenario that he is not comfortable with. And, while Arthur is worried about endangering you, you are worried about being his weakness, his liability. That bounty hunter was quick to realize that you were the way to get to Arthur. Fortunately, Arthur was more than capable of dealing with that idiot. But what if he wasn't? What if Arthur is ever put in danger because of his weakness for you?

The problem is, you don’t know how much longer you can try to hide your feelings. The girls in camp already know how you feel about Arthur, and it’s pretty obvious to everyone else, for sure. You're almost positive that he feels the same for you as well, so what’s the point in denying it? You thought he’d have made a move or at least said something to you by now. You have tried to leave some not-so-subtle hints, but every time you think something will happen between you two, he always pulls away, leaving you confused and lonely. You know Arthur doesn’t have a high opinion of himself, and that things would need to go slow if this is something that you should pursue. But how can he deny what is so obvious to everyone else?

One late afternoon you're sitting in your tent, restless from having this internal struggle yet again. So you decide to take matters into your own hands. You huff in frustration, launching yourself off of your cot, a look of resolution on your face as you smooth out your skirts. "OK, that’s it. It’s now or never.” And you burst forth out of your tent in search of Arthur.

You head out into the common area of the camp, surveying your surroundings. And of course, you spot him by the horses, brushing down Buck. He’s been stewing over there a lot, ever since that job with Micah.

You take a deep breath. "You can do this," you whisper to yourself. And you head over to the hitching posts. Your pace is hesitant at first, but the longer your gaze fixates on Arthur, the faster you walk with determination. As you get closer, you casually walk up next to your horse, Blue, rubbing his nose as he nickers at your approach.

“Hey, you,“ you say, giving Arthur a little grin along with your usual greeting for each other.

“Hey…” he grumbles out in reply. He lifts his face, but quickly averts his eyes, as if guilty of some act against you.

"Want to go out for a ride with me?" you ask, your voice hopeful. Your hand absentmindedly caresses Blue's muzzle as you gaze at Arthur, trying to pin him down.

His hands pause in their work, not sure how to answer. He really does want to go out and to be alone with you, but in light of recent events, he thinks twice about it.

You can see the gears turning in his mind to try to find an excuse when he averts his eyes and doesn't answer you.

"Come on, please?" you whine, adding a little childish stomp. "I’m getting restless just sitting around here."

Arthur takes a deep breath as he considers his answer. “Yeah, I don’t think it's…”

"Come on, if you don’t come with me, I’ll just head out on my own," you cut him off with your threat before he can say no. Your hands plant firmly on your hips as you stare him down. "You don’t want me going out by myself, do you?"

Damn it. You know he can never say 'no' to you.

With an eye roll and an exasperated sigh to match, he simply gives you an “Alright, fine.”

Smiling triumphantly with a look that could melt Arthur in moments should he look upon you for too long, you spin around and get Blue saddled up as quickly as you can before Arthur can change his mind.

The afternoon temperature has started to drop to a comfortable degree as you and Arthur head down the path and out of camp. There’s a pleasant breeze carrying the fragrance of autumn in the air. You travel fairly quietly through the woods, only making small talk here and there, before heading to one of the overlooks that you like to frequent. It's a pretty little spot, tucked up on a ridge looking down over the valley. It gives an unobstructed view of the horizon and expanse of the land before you.

The overlook itself is littered with the last bit of wildflowers for the season and is covered with lush grasses that sway with the wind. This place has always been a peaceful getaway for you, and you were so thankful when Arthur brought you here to show it to you. Ever since, this is where you come for clarity and peace of mind. And you couldn't think of a better place to finally tell Arthur of your feelings for him.

You pull your horse to a stop and eagerly hop down from Blue's saddle. Blue follows behind you like an overgrown dog as you wander through the tall grass. Arthur slowly drops down from his saddle, watching you from behind. The sun is in front and off to the left side of you, casting your face and body in a warm, golden glow. Arthur instantly takes notice of how angelic you are. Your billowy skirts unfurl as they catch on the grass and your white blouse soaks up the amber colors of the sun's rays like paint to a canvas. You are so beautiful in this moment that it makes Arthur's heart ache, knowing he’ll never have happiness with you. Micah’s words ring through his mind as he watches you and he has to remind himself that good things don’t happen to bad men.

After you wander to sit on one of the large boulders that jut out of the red soil, you bend over to pick one of the wild daisies growing at your feet. You twirl the bud absentmindedly between your fingertips as you look about at the glorious view. A calm begins to settle over you as the smooth, cold surface of the rock beneath you radiates through your body. Your eye catches a few hawks circling in the sky out over the field in front you. You watch as they magically hover in the air and a contented smile crosses your face. Blue wanders over past you, snorting and nuzzling into your back as he passes, sniffing to find treats in your pockets.

"Get out of here, Blue, I ain’t got nothing for you," you chuckle, pushing his nose away. You look over your shoulder when you notice that Arthur hasn’t followed you. "You gonna join me?" you ask, a smile gracing your features to match the twinkle in your eye.

Arthur stands next to Buck, silent and fiddling with the horse's reins as he shifts his weight. Reluctantly, he walks over and slowly sits down next to you.

The two of you sit quietly for a bit, enjoying the view, until you nervously clear your throat. "So, I'm afraid I haven't been completely truthful with you, Arthur. There’s something that I want to talk about with you." You look down at your hands in your lap as you speak, your fingers rolling over each other. "It’s something I’ve been thinking about for awhile now." Taking a brief pause, you swallow before you continue. "I’m not really sure how to tell you this, to be honest."

Arthur’s stomach drops and his breathing becomes shallow as he notes how uncomfortable you are all of a sudden. You won't look him in the eye, and you're fidgeting. Something has you all worked up. And then it hits him: You're leaving. He’s sure of it. After what happened with the bounty hunter, he can't really blame you. And you've brought him out here to tell him. What else could have you this anxious? Arthur can feel his spirit deflate in disappointment. Everyone leaves at some point. But at least you are kind enough to tell him personally after all this time. Micah was right.

"God, I didn’t think I’d be so nervous about this," you mumble to yourself, your hands sweating as they continue to roll over each other in your lap.

"Look, (Y/N)…you don’t have to…" Arthur tries to speak, tries to put your mind at ease, but you hold your hand up to shush him, interrupting before he can get too far.

“Arthur, please, just…let me get this out before I lose my nerve,” you say quietly.

So he sits quietly as he sets his hands upon his thighs, fingers nervously drumming. His mouth goes dry, eyes fixated on the tips of his boots, waiting with trepidation for you to say what you have brought him here to tell him.

You close your eyes and take a deep, steadying breath...

“Arthur, I’ve come to realize…that…I have feelings for you."

And there it is, finally out in the open. Your words hang in the air for him to hear and ingest. No going back now, no hiding it any longer. And with this revelation, a great weight is lifted off of your chest.

You stop, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, testing the waters to see his reaction. But he sits there, not moving, eyes still aimed at his feet. His head is spinning, as this is not the news he was expecting to hear. He’s elated that you're not leaving after all, and breathes an internal sigh of relief. Yet that feeling of happiness quickly turns to shock and concern, when he fully realizes what it is that you have just said to him.

“What did you say?” he whispers, his body rigid with tension.

Suddenly, you become very apprehensive at Arthur's response. You thought he’d be happier than this.

“I care for you, Arthur. Deeply," you say emphatically.

You gently reach over and place your hand over his that still rests on his thigh, and lean forward to try to peer into his face to gauge his reaction. His eyes flicker to your delicate hand on top of his own calloused one. He is frozen in this moment of time, paralyzed. He’s prayed to hear those very words from your lips for so, so long. Yet, he has also dreaded it. For Arthur truly believes that he could be the very end of you.

With a great pain in his chest, Arthur slowly withdrawals his hand from under yours. You look in confusion from where your hands were once folded together, to his face, but he still won’t look at you. Your heart begins to pound loudly in your ears.

"Arthur?" Your voice quakes with trepidation, yet he still sits there, not moving, not speaking.

"Say something. Please?" You sound so small as you beg for a response from him. This void of silence is crushing.

Arthur closes his eyes and winces, knowing the next thing he has to say is the most painful thing he’s had to do in a long time. "I….I can’t," his voice barely a whisper.

Your eyes shoot open wide. "What?" your voice cracks in disbelief.

"You don’t want me, (Y/N)" he says, shaking his head, his gaze still fixated on his boot-tips.

"Why on Earth not?"

"I'm not a good man. You deserve better in this life, and so much better than me.” Arthur's answer is so simple in its delivery, as if this is something that you should have known all along.

You are stunned into silence for a few minutes, processing what he’s just said to you, desperately trying not to get upset. "Don’t I get a say in what’s best for me?" you challenge back.

“No, not in this case." Arthur still won't look at you, and his voice maintains a sad and low tone. His calmness over such a thing is almost maddening to you.

"Look at me, Arthur," you demand desperately. "Look at me!" He turns just enough to give you a side glance before guiltily averting his eyes again when he sees the tears starting to gather around your irises. "Can you really sit there and tell me you feel nothing for me?" you ask incredulously.

“It's not a matter of what I want, (Y/N)." He tries to speak calmly to you, hoping to make you understand and trying not to upset you any more than he already has. But you are not having any of it. Your emotions are a churning sea right now; intense and uncontrollable.

"Like hell it’s not!" your voice is starting to rise now. "Your wants, your dreams, they matter, Arthur. You matter. I know you don’t see that, but I see you, Arthur. I see you." You begin to rapidly blink back the tears forming in your eyes, desperate to get through to him.

"I tell my dreams to ghosts at this point," he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. His eyes dart around rapidly, trying to look anywhere but at your face right now. He abruptly stands up, pacing a few steps. He draws his hand over his mouth, wishing this conversation was not happening.

"It’s OK to give everything you got, Arthur, but you have to keep something for yourself too,” you implore as you watch him pace in front of you.

“Not this time," he says sternly, finally looking at you with such intensity. "What the hell do you want with someone like me, anyways?!" his own voice now rising to meet yours. "I’m old, I’m ugly, I’m mean…”

“Jesus, you really are broken aren’t you?" you ask in wonder as you take in the sight of him, watching him nervously unravel before your eyes.

“Bah…” he grunts angrily, waving you off. He turns away from you to face the horizon line again, getting more annoyed by the second. But still, you keep pushing.

“Why are you making this so hard, Arthur?!”

“Because!" he spins back to face you again. "It’s only a matter of time before you figure out what a piece of shit I am, (Y/N)! I can’t go through that again. Not again. Not with you.” He waves his arm to decisively make his point. And it is now that you fully understand his greatest fear and worry.

“You don’t know that!“ you beg.

“Yes, I do!" he shouts angrily at you, his volume startling the horses grazing nearby. He is now past his breaking point, his chest heaving with the battle of emotions within him. "Why can’t you just leave things as they are, (Y/N)?!”

“Because that’s not good enough!" you holler back, not willing to give up on him. "Is that what you really want, Arthur?”

“That’s how it has to be. You shouldn’t even be here!” He throws that bomb back in your face, unaware at the severity of its delivery.

The statement cuts you like a knife, twisting into your heart so deep that it makes you gasp and your eyes go wide. And the moment it escapes Arthur's lips, the look of shock on your face makes him regret saying it. Aside from your feelings, Arthur is your best friend. He is the one who brought you here. How could he really think that? It is a blow that he meant to end this argument, but he severely underestimated the damage it would do in its wake.

You are shaken to your core. This is certainly not how you thought this conversation was going to go when you imagined it in your head. You can feel your fingertips and toes go numb, your nerves alight.

You simply stare at him, speechless, before you lean forward and bury your face into your hands, trying to comprehend this nonsense. This lovely moment that you envisioned has gone so horribly wrong. You were so sure that Arthur would fold you up into his massive arms upon your revelation. This adolescent awkwardness that the two of you have danced around for so long could finally be put behind you and you could move on together. You could put an end to the shared notion of loneliness that sits deep within you both. It was a gamble. You would expose the delicate nerves of your heart in hopes that he would accept it. But you sorely miscalculated. Maybe you are too naive? Maybe this romantic notion of loving an outlaw is just a silly idea after all?

You sniffle back the tears that still threaten to spill forth, determined to keep yourself together. Defeated, you slowly stand up, avoiding his watchful gaze, and turn to head back to the horses. Arthur's chest is heavy with guilt from having to hurt you like this. He gingerly reaches out and catches your elbow before you walk away from him.

“Please, (Y/N)," his voice quiet again, pleading for forgiveness. "This is for your own good.” His blue eyes implore you to understand his reasoning.

"Right, Arthur. My own good."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2

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divine-misfortune · 2 months

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What about Phantom and Mountian kissing as encouragement 👀

They say pacing is a good way to clear your head, at least Phantom was pretty sure he heard someone say it once. That someone was starting to feel like a real big fucking liar though. He had been pacing the length of the dressing room for an hour, maybe two, and his head was still horribly loud. Bees swarming in his skull, stinging his brain, he was this close to giving himself a little zap of quintessence to enter into a short coma to escape it.

Sound check had been nothing short of nightmarish on his end. Too many notes played sharp and riffs fumbled to be excused. Papa had even shot him a look - not exactly what you'd call a dirty look but one that still knotted up his stomach. Rain had even fixed him with something akin to a scowl, or maybe the sun was in his eyes.

Phantom just couldn't get off that stage fast enough, and the dread of being forced back onto it in a matter of hours nearly made him sick.

In an effort to maintain his grip on sanity, he'd started pacing and pacing got him nowhere. Phantom wanted to curl in on himself instead. The old leather couch in the corner was the perfect place in his opinion. The well loved cushion was easy to sink into, some sort of embrace to mend his frayed nerves. It almost barely helped.

Knees drawn up to his chest, arms folded, face hidden in them, he felt small. Fragile. Dead weight.

"Bug?"

Phantom's fingers dug into his biceps and he sniffled, blinking away tears he did not care to admit to. The best response he could manage was a weak hum, tuneless and a little unsteadier than he'd like.

"You're not dressed yet," Mountain was frowning. His voice always got a little softer when he frowned. "Whats going on?"

He shrugged. Lying, he knew exactly what the issue was and so did Mountain.

The couch dipped beside him and a large hand settled on his back. Slow circular motions between his shoulder blades that had Phantom unraveling. It shouldn't have been so easy but Mountain made everything seem so simple.

"Rough day, huh sprout?"

"Yeah..." he croaked sadly and lifted his head enough to rest his chin on his arms. "Do I have to do this?"

"Well, technically no but we're gonna sound like shit without you."

"Probably have a better chance without me tripping around up there."

Mountain shifted in his peripheral before slipping an arm around him, pulling the little ghoul against his chest without a fight. Phantom wanted to be there anyhow. Closest thing to safety he had in that little room. He wrapped both arms around his middle and clutched at Mountain's vest. Hiding against him tamed the swarm in his head, quieted the worst of the turmoil.

"You need to be more patient with yourself."

"Easier said than done."

"I know, I know. Despite what the gray hairs might lead you to believe I was new to this too once." Phantom snorted and let out a shuddered breath that wracked his delicate frame. "Could tell you a thousand stories about my bad days on tour, and you're gonna collect quite a few of your own but they'll get easier to shrug off."

Phantom held tighter and Mountain embraced him the same. Squished him like it might just squeeze the doubt out of the little quint. It didn't, of course, but it did get a laugh out of him. Weak but genuine.

"Lemme see that pretty face, I wanna make it better."

There was a moment of hesitation to unlatch from the earth ghoul but he did inevitably, rewarded by those familiar warm eyes. Mountain's mouth quirked upwards at the edges and he cupped his face in both hands. All he wanted to do was melt into them, trusting him to keep him upright.

Mountain leaned in and caught his lips before they could quiver with the threat of another little cry again. One little peck, followed by another, and another. Cautiously paced with every kiss, deepening slowly until Phantom was boneless between his hands. This always seemed to go to his head, could damn near restart his brain just by kissing him - and that was the point.

And Mountain gave him one more before breaking away before all he had was a puddle of a ghoul left. Squishing his flushed cheeks, he gave an exaggerated mwah just as he sat back to admire his work. Phantom's eyes were half lidded, fluttering delicately as he registered the absence of Mountain’s mouth against his.

"Give yourself a little grace, you've more than earned it. Some days are just gonna be bad...But I promise to always try to kiss the blues away."

"...Think I'm still feeling a little blue, can you try again?" Phantom asked quietly, tugging at his vest hopefully.

"Only after you get dressed. I'll ward off aaaaaall those sad feelings till we're called to places once you do. Deal?"

"Deal."

#writing #void writing #answered #nameless ghouls #phantom ghoul #mountain ghoul #mountain/phantom #mountain x phantom #the band ghost #ghost the band #the band ghost ficlet

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6lostgirl6 · 1 year

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Can you do a request for me with Hannibal x Fem Reader where she starts seeing him as a patient and you reveal to him that you have kinda gray morals when it comes to murder and stuff like that and over the course of about 6 months or so you two start falling for each other but he tries to keep it professional until he can’t anymore and fires you as a patient which upsets you until he tells you why he did it (which was so he could date you)

Unexpected Romance

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Fem!Reader

TW: slight meltdown, hints of murderous thoughts, dependence, slight angst, arguing, fighting, happy ending

You sighed, walking out of the building that once held your third psychiatrist of the month, clutching onto the white paper labeled 'referral.' It felt like a slap in the face, sitting in a comfortable office chair and spilling your deepest secrets to someone you barely knew, only for them to refer you to someone else.

'I don't know how else to help you.'

They would question you, offering you a false sense of security, yet when their prescribed medications and deeply-rooted questions did nothing, they simply lost hope in rekindling your sense of morality.

You were...beyond saving...

You slammed your car door shut, flinging the piece of paper onto your passenger seat where it lay abandoned, seemingly mocking you that it would add to your collection of your previous referrals, prescriptions, and office information. You sniffled, staring at the leather of your steering wheel. The next second, you were screaming, crying, and slamming your fist against the steering wheel as if it insulted you.

"Fuck!" You yelled, clutching your sore knuckles, staring at the bruises that were already starting to form from the force of your rage. "Fuck..."

You sniffled, staring into your rearview mirror, hastily wiping away the tears that were streaming down your face, eyes bloodshot and nose threatening to plug up from your excessive crying. You tried calming down, taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself down. Your first psychiatrist taught you about breathing exercises.

Yet, those techniques didn't stop you from the plague that invades your subconscious. The images of your family murdered, blood staining every crevice...

You shook your head before glancing over at the piece of paper, sighing to yourself as you reached over, picking it up. The name of your new therapist stared back at you, promising you of more false promises and hurt.

Dr. Lecter.

A few weeks later, you were sitting in the waiting room waiting for your first session. Well, first session with your new therapist. You were picking your nails as you watched the clock, dreading the unavoidable. The minutes were ticking by, seemingly mocking you of your adversity.

You were anxious all morning, pacing in your room, dressed and prepared only a few hours ahead of schedule. The drive was hellish, thoughts of canceling the appointment, suffering a fee and turning back haunted you. Now, you were in the waiting room with a racing heart, the pattering of the raindrops outside distracting you.

'I am beyond help...'

"Miss (L/N)?" A deep-toned voice asked.

Your head snapped, mind clearing as you faced the person that had called your name. Standing by the door, keeping it open with a charming yet polite smile upon his face, was your new and fourth psychiatrist.

Dr. Lecter

"Sorry, yeah, that's me." You said, standing from your seat but keeping your distance, you simply didn't want to barge into his office. You gave him a small smile, still feeling uncomfortable with the beginning of your session. "It's very nice to meet you, Dr. Lecter."

"Likewise." He replied, stepping to the side with the door still opened for you. "Shall we begin with our session for today?"

"Of course." You walked past him, nodding in thanks before stepping into his office, maintaining from letting out a gasp of surprise over the vastness of his office. If you hadn't known this was his office, you would have guessed it was. The room screamed elegance and filled with decor one would see in an art museum.

"You have a lovely office." You complimented, looking around the room as Dr. Lecter closed the door and walked over to his desk, picking up some papers.

"Thank you, I quite enjoy displaying decorum through interior decorating." He replied, almost in a teasing way. "I apologize that you've been waiting a few weeks before we could start. Your psychiatrist had to send your information over from previous sessions."

"I wish it were longer, actually." You stated halfheartedly, finally taking a seat when he gestured silently towards one of his many available chairs nearby, nodding in thanks.

"Not very fond of sessions are you, miss (L/N)?" He asked, glancing your way as he shuffled through some of your paperwork, most likely your old medications and lack of diagnoses.

"I'm not particularly fond of wasting my time talking about my issues until the person trying to help me figures out I'm just incurable." You refused to return his gaze, fiddling with your nails. "They can't figure out what's wrong with me."

"There is no such thing as being incurable, there's only being overlooked."

"How do you figure?" You asked in confusion, looking up to watch him place down the papers and take a seat across from you. You didn't like the way he refused to look away from you, it made you...fuzzy.

"I believe your experience with your previous psychiatrists are, in better terms, unfit to handle someone like you." He paused for a moment, "You need someone that is able to understand you, discover your innermost self and I'm simply a better fit."

You felt your cheeks warm slightly, glancing away and unable to understand that fuzzy feeling you were feeling in your chest. "You make it seem so undemanding." You only glanced back when he called your name.

"You, my dear, are not incurable."

You were speechless, you didn't know what else to say. Something that would make him deter him away, but nothing could cross your mind before he continued.

"You are not beyond saving."

You stared at him for a while, the words sinking into your mind and chasing away some of the doubt that has haunted you for a majority of your life. You decided, against your judgement and the aching of your heart at the risk of more pain, you would give him a chance.

You nodded, which prompted him to give you a polite smile.

Time to restart the process.

At first, it was morbid curiosity.

When Hannibal was notified that he was being referred to a fellow colleague's previous patient, he was curious, very curious. He wanted to know the reason a respected psychiatrist, with an incredible track record, couldn't help a patient for once.

Therefore, he decided he would see the person behind his fellow colleague practically being close to ripping their hair out in stress. However, he was genuinely surprised when he opened his office door and saw you sitting in the waiting room. Your timid form playing with your nails with your gaze laser-focused on the clock that you didn't even react when he stood in your presence. Yet, you were oddly polite and if Hannibal didn't read your paperwork, he would have assumed you were an ordinary girl with her own issues.

However, you were...different.

He couldn't place his finger on what it was, but you weren't like anyone else he had seen step into his office. Your profile made it seem like you were a delinquent waiting to happen. However, you were polite, respectful, and had a deep passion for the arts similar to himself. He's never met an individual who shared a multitude of common interests with him. Perhaps, he underestimated you. He certainly wasn't prepared by how pretty you were and how close you two would become and he wouldn't forget your first session. When he had the opportunity to dig deep within your center and rip out your deepest secrets about yourself, in his own space.

Your gaze was focused on the window, watching the water droplets from the rain slide down the glass, the sleeves of your sweater hiding your delicate fingers. Those slim fingers that he couldn't stop staring at. You seemed so helpless, desperate for validation for the things you were going through, and he wanted to know the root of the problem.

Perhaps then, his curiosity would dissipate and he would have an easier time letting someone like you go.

"You must tell me what you're feeling if I am to help you, Miss (L/N)." He spoke softly, crossing his fingers and catching your gaze as you turned away from the window to return your attention with him.

“I feel…” You muttered with a pause, before turning your attention to the man across from you, “like I’m a danger to myself and others because of the things I think about.”

“And what do you feel?” He asked, voice subconsciously matching your own.

“I think about hurting people, people that I used to care about. Seeing their faces twist in pain as their life drains from their eyes.”

“How does it make you feel? Those thoughts that haunt you, you mentioned that they plague you. Is it because you’re ashamed of them?” He mentally cursed himself, allowing his growing curiosity and obsession to take hold in order to discover you.

“They do haunt me but…it’s not because I’m ashamed of them.” You avoided the intensity of his stare, staring at the loose fabric of your sweater. “I’m ashamed of them because I like the thoughts.”

He swore he felt his heart skip a beat.

It has been six months since you've become his patient and Hannibal was plagued with conflicted feelings. Over the course of six months, Hannibal began to notice the ever growing affection he held for you. The soft moments between you during the break between sessions where you both would discuss your various common interests of art, music, and food.

He never thought he would find an individual so interesting, articulate, and extremely beautiful. He could still remember your lovely smile when he presented you with one of your favorite books he happened to have in his many collections of literature. He knew that he had fallen in love with you. Something he never quite expected to happen in his entire lifetime.

However, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. Not when he was still continuing to be your psychiatrist.

A few days after your last session, he turned in his referral for your new psychiatrist and he prayed that you would allow him to reason with you when you find out what he has done in order to be with you properly. From your previous sessions, he knew of the abandonment you’ve feared, however, he didn’t want you feeling like he gave up on you.

He was sitting at his desk, checking his watch as he waited for your arrival. His mind was repeatedly going through the possibilities of your reaction. Your consistent timing insisted that you would arrive any minute. He decided with a heavy sigh, that he would check the waiting room and hoped that you would accept his feelings.

You smiled to yourself, sitting in your usual spot in the corner of the waiting room. You arrived a few minutes early, yet it allowed you to have some time for yourself before you continued your session with Dr. Lecter.

Despite the happiness you felt, you still felt a little nervous. For the past few weeks, you have realized something about yourself that you didn’t think would possibly ever happen. The fuzzy feeling that continued to tickle your mind all those months was the blossoming feeling of love.

It left you scared, scared of the possibility of what it could do to affect the professional relationship between doctor and patient. The possibility of Dr. Lecter discovering your feelings and refusing to continue helping you. All due to the disgust of having someone like you fall for someone like him. It left you feeling defeated already, yet you will allow yourself to continue to be around him. To be around him and never letting your feelings show.

The sound of the door opening made you stand, giving Dr. Lecter a smile which he gladly returned with a soft greeting. However, something in his face made you hesitate in replying. He seemed to have something bothering him and your heart skipped a beat.

This couldn’t be what you think it is…

Pushing the thought from your mind, you quickly returned the greeting.

“Afternoon, Dr. Lecter.” You said, stepping forward when he moved to the side to allow you to walk past him and into his office. “Something troubling you?”

The suit-clad man quietly closed the door, walking past you to stand near his desk, he leaned against the wood, hands perched on the surface. “We have something to discuss.” He finally said, gesturing to the recliner.

“I think I can manage just fine standing.” You retorted, voice full of ice as your eyes hardened slightly. Your body tensed as you continued standing your ground, crossing your arms. “What’s the issue?” you asked, desperately trying to keep the hurt from your voice.

“Please, allow me to explain myself, I do not wish for you to assume-”

“I think I’m assuming correctly, right? Just go ahead and tell me what you’re thinking.”

He sighed, glancing away, presumably gathering his thoughts.

“I believe it is best if I am no longer your psychiatrist-”

Crash.

Hannibal ducked when something was sent flying towards his head, resulting in a loud crash as the object practically combusted against the wall. In instinct, he was quick to cover his face with his forearm, protecting himself from getting hit directly. He was shocked for a moment, processing what occurred before hearing you rush towards him.

“How could you?!” You yelled, trying to hit him with raised fists, becoming more annoyed when your old physiatrist kept blocking your feasible attacks. “You said you wouldn’t give up on me! You fucking liar!”

“I’ve never lied to you! Let me explain!” You couldn’t bother to see his reaction, his face expressing a mix of emotions of shock and desire. He never witnessed you become so angry before, especially at him. He found his fascination for you grew even more. “You’re only making things worse.”

“I don’t care, asshole!” You screamed, pushing him which didn’t even move him an inch as he stared down at you, gripping your forearms as you started crying. “Why are you getting rid of me!”

“You stupid girl!” Suddenly, you were pinned against the wall, gasping in shock at the warmth of Hannibal’s chest pressed against your own, your wrists pinned on each side of your head. “I only did it to be closer to you!”

“What…?” You were breathless, staring into his eyes that were full of darkness and something else you couldn’t recognize. His warm breath hitting the side of your face from his close proximity. “Then, why would you?”

Instead of answering, Hannibal simply leaned down and kissed you, warm lips pressed against your own, which quickly turned passionate. Eagerly, you returned the kiss, pressing closer to him as Hannibal let go of one of your wrists to grip the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair.

After a few minutes that seemed like an eternity, he slowly pulled away, gazing down at you while you tried catching your breath.

“I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” He stated, fingers pulling away from your hair to instead delicately graze the soft skin of your cheek. “I cannot court you properly if I remain your psychiatrist.”

“Dr. Lecter, I-” Your eyes watered, ashamed of your previous behavior.

“Hannibal, darling.” He muttered softly, stroking your cheek as he pressed his forehead against your own. “I accept you as you are and I want you to be mine, always. Will you consider that?”

You smiled softly, sniffling as you nodded, resulting in Hannibal pulling you into a tight embrace which you gladly returned. “You already have me.” You replied.

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#hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter x y/n #hannibal lecter fanfiction #hannibal lecter fanfic #nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x fem!reader #fem!reader #hannibal nbc fanfiction #hannibal nbc fanfic #nbc hannibal fanfiction #nbc hannibal fanfic #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic

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