#jack x hazel

[upontherisers]

in the cold spring

a/n: i'm in a writing mood recently! disclaimer: i haven't read mota or on a wing and a prayer yet so i do not know anything about jack kidd's life beside what is available on the 100th bomb group's website, so consider some details ~exaggerated for dramatic effect~. title is from ml burch's "i feel like giving you things" and this fic is about neither the cold or the spring, but it fits.

Goddamn Air Exec. 

Jack says goddamn Air Exec from the moment Bucky tells him that Hughlin recommended him, through two rounds of meetings with Harding—call me Chick—and Bowman—call me Red, through moving into the ops barracks, through shaking a thousand hands, and through getting a desk. Goddamn Air Exec. Goddamn Egan, goddamn Hughlin, and goddamn Air Exec.

His crew, his fort, and his dignity all because Bucky purposely flunked out of the tower. And Buck vouched for him! Goddamn Cleven and goddamn Air Exec. All of his training out the window for a desk in a corner office. He can’t even see the runway through the blinds, just the backroads of East Anglia and occasionally the Land Army girls and their cows. Five hundred hours of flight school for a desk in a corner office and a secretary.

“A secretary?” he asks as Harding points at a small station outside Jack’s newly-labeled office.

Chick nods. “Yes, Lieutenant Keene.” He looks around the busy floor, eventually settling on who he’s searching for. “There she is… Hazel!”

A head pops up from the mass of moving bodies and paper and a woman quickly makes her way across the room, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. As she approaches, she’s smiling with a brightness that goes all the way to her warm, round brown eyes, hand outstretched for another yet another handshake. Goddamn Air Exec, but he’s less bitter about it.

“Jack, I assume you’ve met Lieutenant Keene—”

“Hazel, I insist.” Her grip is firm and as warm as her eyes.

They met the few times when he had to go to Bucky’s office—his office now—and she was waiting at her station outside. He remembers her as polite but busy, inoffensively curt. Not one of the staff who blathers away, overly chipper and overly interested in the reason for his visit, but also not one of the ones who snaps at him to sit and wait and then ignores him like he’s the reason they’re losing the war. Hazel’s friendly and effective, a good temperament for a C.O. He wonders why she’s in here and not up in the air.

“Good to see you again.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Jack, I insist.”

Her smile widens just so, and he has a feeling that they’re going to work well together.

She turns to Chick and nods to where she came from. “Last of the after actions for the 418th—” Jack pretends that doesn't hurt to hear. He should’ve been up there with his boys. Goddamn Air Exec. “—I’ll have ‘em to Sheila in fifteen, and I’ll be at my desk after that, in case you need anythin’.”

It takes him a moment to realize she’s speaking to him, and he mumbles an ‘of course’ at his shoes. He’s a man who gets waited on now; it would take some time to get used to. She departs with another smile and heads back into the fray.

As Chick leads Jack around the rest of the space, showing him charts and maps and a million other semi-familiar faces, he remains acutely aware of Hazel. She’s speaking to a WAC as they go over some maps, marking here and there, her encouraging smile no doubt prompting stellar work from the younger girl. He’s reminded of Ev, the way his friend’s genial countenance can turn a boring day kicking around the hard stand into a respite and a rough flight home from a mission into a night at a comedy club.

Then he misses his friends—Ev, Dougie, Crosby and the man the navigator has become since getting kicked off of the Crash Wagon. He misses hearing DeMarco and Cleven bicker as they climb into their fort, that damn dog never far behind as Lemmons likes to sneak him out onto the hard stand. He misses the feeling of sitting in his seat and the controls roaring to life under his fingers as he hears his crew get ready at their guns. He misses looking out the window to see Ginny settling into her cockpit to his right, grinning like it’s Christmas morning and popping her gum into her headset receiver to set off Knick Knack at her navigator’s seat.

He even misses Bucky and his plane-to-plane chatter, always vigilant, always watching out for his squadron, his group, and the rest of the wing. He misses the man Bucky can be in the air as opposed to the faux-apologetic fast-talker that landed Jack at a desk in the first place. Goddamn Air Exec.

But then he comes back to Hazel and the scrunch of her nose as she stretches her arms above her head with a yawn. She slumps back onto the desk she’s sitting on, looking around the room curiously before meeting Jack’s eyes and nodding. He nods back before Chick drags him off to some new wonder.

She’s at her desk in fifteen minutes like she told him she would be and sticks her head into his office with a smile. She smiles a lot. “I’m back. Holler if you need anything.”

By the time he can look up from the file he’s puzzling over, she breezes back to her desk and immediately busies herself at her typewriter.

He doesn’t know what to do with her. The other C.O.’s have their secretaries do the standard—take memos, keep their schedules, make coffees—but that seems insulting. She’s here to win a war; he wasn’t going to send her scrambling for sugar. On the other hand, it’s insulting not to utilize her, as sharp and reliable as she is. His father would find her a task and a ring, which he had with his last three secretaries. Jack had no intention of using his rank like that. He’ll find something for Hazel to do. It just has to be the right thing.

And he searches for too long, it seems, because after three days of greeting her when he arrives in the morning and occasionally asking her where certain stationery was stored, she steps into his office post-lunch and plops down in the chair in front of his desk with a sigh. Her eyebrows raise and she wears a bemused smile as she folds her hands in her lap. She reminds him of Bucky for a moment.

“Was it something I said?”

He shakes his head. He’d been hoping she wouldn’t notice his lack of engagement, or perhaps would lean into not having much on her plate. “I’ve never had a secretary before.”

“Most men haven’t.” She leans forward and starts picking at a chip in the wood of his desk. “Your job is my job, too.”

“You seem busy enough.” She does. Every time he looks out into the hall, she’s up to something, whether it’s at her desk, in the filing cabinets along the walls behind her, or somewhere on the ops floor. She knows what she’s doing; he’s the one who’s lost.

Her mouth purses. “Not for long. I’ll be done with the backlog Bucky left by EOD.”

“I’m sorry he left so much—”

Her exaggerated eye roll surprises him. “That’s the point, Jack. It’s too much work for any one man.”

Goddamn Air Exec.

“But that’s why you got me. We’re a team… so,” she raps his desk twice, “put me in, Coach.”

He wants to say something, to have an important Air Exec order or some example for her to follow, but as he looks into her expectant face, he comes up short. He hasn’t eaten yet today, but he’d shoot himself in the foot before he ever made her go to the mess for him. She reads him like a book, which only further rankles his sense of command.

“Well, what’s all this?” She spreads her hands over the papers in front of her.

“Interrogation logs, new crew files—” He points at a pile Chick’s aide had delivered that morning. “I need to get those back to Harding as soon as I sign them.”

“Sign ‘em now and I’ll run ‘em over.”

“No.” This is exactly what he’s been avoiding, assigning her utter tedium. 

She pushes the papers toward him. “C’mon.”

He blinks at her before opening the file. It’s some report or inventory request, or both or neither, which he has no idea why he has to sign, but he’ll do it because that’s job along with waiting around and going to briefings and briefings about briefings. Not even a week in and he was ready to crawl out of his skin or at least out the window. Chick denied both his requests to fly so he’s truly stuck in this office for who knows how long. Goddamn Air Exec.

Two signatures, three, four, five—Hazel points to hidden dotted lines, flipping through the pages without a second glance, and Jack can’t help but feel like she’s tying his shoes. That probably flew with Bucky, but it wouldn’t with him. They gave him the promotion because they knew he could do the job well and he agreed. This is something he could be good at. A team of subordinates was a perk of the job, expected for a man of such a station, and he’s grateful that folks were will to help out, but he’d grown up watching secretaries turn from aides to mother-wives and he doesn’t want that for anyone, especially a gal as nice as Hazel. He’ll find something for her to do.

He signs the last page and closes the file as Hazel stands, hand outstretched. Pausing for a moment, he doesn’t pass it over quite yet. “I don’t want you being my errand girl.”

She reaches across the desk and plucks the file from him. “It’s my job.”

She turns on a graceful heel and heads out across the floor, making it to Harding’s office and back before he could find it in him to stop staring at her confident, unaffronted gait. Bright laughter—the brightest he’s ever heard—bubbles out of her as she tucks her skirt under her thighs and takes a seat at her desk.

“You could’ve signed three more reports in the time that took me. Now I’m gonna have to wait for you.” She tsked. “Wastin’ both our time.”

She’s tying his shoes again and that lights a fire under his ass for the rest of the day. He clears the files that had accumulated on his desk plus two rounds of parts inventory from the hard stand and he gets a memo off to London requesting more birds. He feels satisfied by the time he flicks off the light and gathers his jacket and coat. It sure wasn’t flying, but it felt like making a difference all the time. He didn’t know he could do that from behind a desk.

It takes some soul-searching, but he manages to light his own fire for the rest of the week. He maintains his composure through the worst of it, a long fog delay that had half his pilots climbing into the tower to beg him for clearance, a ‘misplaced’ delivery of Mae Wests that somehow ended up with the 418th before they came to ops, and another declined request to fly from Harding. Goddamn Air Exec. 

The job gets easier each day, especially with Hazel right outside the door. It does feel more like a team than subordination as they move around each other, trading reports and memos without having to speak. Still, she’s a few steps ahead of him—coming through the door before he can call her to pick up a file, finding this or that form before he can realize he’s misplaced it—but he’s determined to catch up. He comes in early on Saturday and has the summarized after action reports in Chick’s office before Hazel’s arrived for the day. It’s a good feeling when her eyes go wide in surprise and her cheery mouth finds its usual smile.

“Well, I suppose we’re even now.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “not even close.”

If they’re really going to be a team, he’s going to even the playing field. No more having her play governess. Neither of them are here to clean up after someone else.

That evening, Hazel is leaning into Chick’s doorway as Jack leaves for the day, chatting with Sheila. 

He mumbles a ‘pardon me’ as he passes and her face lifts at the sight of him. “Major Kidd! We were just talkin’ about you.”

“You were?” he asks as they fall into lockstep on their way out. 

“We were sayin’ how nice it is to have an Air Exec who knows what he’s doin’.”

“Bucky tried his best.” He’s lying.

She knows it and she snorts. “He was fun to have around, certainly.”

It’s quiet as they walk. The flights have stopped for the day and if he strains his ears he’d be able to hear the crews working away on the hard stand, but there’s no need for that now. That’s another thing he’s learning—when he’s doing the job and when he’s not. With the warm evening air and the blazing sunset in front of them, he’s grateful for the time off the clock.

He looks at Hazel and is struck by the sight. The light washes her dark cherrywood skin in a velvet glow, sending shadows of her lashes and her nose across her face. He’s suddenly jealous of Bucky and he doesn't know why. She catches his eye and smiles. Blanching, he clears his throat and stares at the ground. His boots are the cleanest they’ve been since he’s been in England now that he’s out of the grease and dust of the planes. Goddamn Air Exec.

They’re nearly at the ops barracks when he realizes that he doesn’t know where she’s going. Does she live in the barracks? Is she one of the girls who’s at a billet in town? Why doesn’t he know? Shouldn’t he know? She’s never in the mess and is so rarely at the Silver Wings. He wonders what she does with her time. He realizes he doesn’t know much about her at all, not her hometown, her family, where she was before the Air Force. The Oberlin pennant on the wall in his office had prompted her to ask into his life, but that’s because she’s always where he is, but he’s never where she is. He wants to be.

“Where’re you headed?”

She comes to a stop. “Home.”

“Where’s that?”

Her wry smile makes his heart skip a beat as she turns down the path leading toward the enlisted barracks. “Good evening, Major.” She never calls him that.

“Some of us’ll be at the pub tonight—Chick, Red, Bucky… it’d be good to see you.” He takes a half-step toward her so as not to yell the offer, maybe she’ll take it if he’s gentle. Part of him hopes she’ll say yes. He wants time with her outside of keeping the group on its feet, just an hour to hear her laugh, to ask her where she gets that charming accent from, to ask her for a dance. Part of him hopes she’ll give him one more good smile and walk away, that she’ll remind him there are rules, lines to be maintained. He’s not going to become his father.

“Good evening,” she repeats and he watches her go. He doesn’t have time to dwell on the ache in his chest as Cros yells at him from across the way. He’ll have his night and she’ll have hers.

He’s not sure if he should apologize for being out of turn when he sees her next, clear the air and make it clear that he’s not… he isn’t going to be that man. He reasons to himself that wants to know her as a teammate, in the same way he’d come to know the members of his crew. It’s what any good leader does. There’s a short speech ready to go when he enters HQ Monday morning after seeing the forts off.

She greets him as politely as she always has, but he gets the feeling he probably wouldn’t be able to tell if she’s upset. Her cards are meticulously close to her chest while she learns about the people around her. It’d be a good quality in a C.O. He thinks of all the women he’d just sent to Norway—Ginny, Vera, Amelie, Suzanne. Hazel would fit right in.

There’s a small box on his desk, no sender address upon investigation. “Hazel?”

“Yeah?” she asks as she gets up from her desk.

“Do you know who this is from?” He’s popping open one end with his letter opener.

“Oh, well,” she starts, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe, “it’s from my momma” Her inflection is that of an embarrassed and entertained daughter. 

A swath of white silk flutters to the floor and he picks it up. It’s a scarf decorated with rows of small and large flowers. From… from her mother?

“I—I, uh, I wrote her about you and she insisted on sending it. Bucky got one, too, when he started.”

He couldn’t recall Bucky ever wearing a scarf. “What’d he do with it?”

She scoffs. “God knows. I don’t think he remembers getting it. It was one of his… one of his mornings.”

“Hungover?”

“Still drunk.”

Closing distance, she takes the scarf from him gently and tosses it around his shoulders. She’s so near now as she starts tying it and he can look at her while she concentrates, her eyes glittering with that hope that never seems to fade. Does her mother have the same eyes? The same round apples of her cheeks, the lovely point of her chin? And her perfume, the faint hint of roses he occasionally gets during the day now in full force as she works. He feels flush and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or where to put his eyes or what to say. A woman who’d only heard about him in letters sent her daughter to war and is sending him beautiful scarves. That’s the kind of woman who would raise Hazel.

“I always tell her that this is unnecessary, that y’all have mommas of your own to fuss over ya,” she says as she adjusts the knot at his neck and smoothes her hands over his shoulders.

“I—I don’t,” he stammers out. 

Her eyes widen and he hates the kick in his chest. “Oh, I’m—I’m so sorry, Jack, I had no idea.”

He waves her off but can’t quite find the words. There’s a yearning suddenly, one he left in the dark years ago, and he doesn’t know what’ll come out if he tries to name it. Hazel puts a comforting hand on his arm and looks at him sympathetically. “Well, I’ll tell my momma to keep sending scarves… only if—if you wouldn’t mind.”

“I could use a few more of these,” he says, glancing down at the knot at his neck. He probably looks ridiculous wearing it without the rest of his flight gear, but the accomplished smile on Hazel’s face is worth it. He’ll bear all the stares in the world if it keeps her smiling. 

She gives him one more once over before returning to her desk. “It’s a good color on you.”

“Matches my eyes?”

“Something like that.” She winks. 

His stomach flips; he thinks of his father and three weddings. 

“Oh,” she calls, “you can keep it on.”

He raises an interested eyebrow.

“The Telergma mission, you’re going. Chick sent authorization this morning.”

Three days later, Ev’s the only one who comments on Jack’s new gear after they finally get the all-clear for engine start.

“That from Franny?” his co-pilot asks. It’s a good guess; his sister would send something like it. 

“Lieutenant Keene’s mother sent it.”

Ev scoffs with a shake of his head. “Your secretary’s mother is sending you scarves? Goddamn Air Exec.”

Yeah, Jack thinks, smirking out the window and sitting a little taller. Goddamn Air Exec.

#my writing #hazel keene #jack kidd x oc #masters of the air #straighten up and fly right #jack x hazel #some of y'all have neat little banners for all of your works and i want one of those i just don't know how to make them #also this ended up being way more of a jack character study than a true intro to hazel because i wrote it in his pov instead of hers #also i can't decide if this universe is in present or past tense. who's to say

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

idk if i've ever talked abt Hazel's backstory on here or not but it's suuuuuper petty and dumb LMAOOOO

basically at some point the PizzaPlex started getting complaints from a few parents that their daycare didn't 'meet standards,' in that the 'child-to-caretaker-ratio' wasn't acceptable. So the solution was to bring an old concept out of storage and dress it up to look like a third daycare attendant! Enter Hazel, a project scrapped after the execs decided that having a rabbit (Bonnie) and a hare (Hazel) was one too many bunny-shaped mascots.

so they rush Hazel together into what is, functionally, a beta-phase of her project wearing a children's-caretaker costume, and management says 'good enough!' and they drop her into the daycare with almost zero training/socialization programming, and Sun and Moon are left with the worlds newest of new hires with little to no warning. Okay you three have fun byeeee!

Sun, not wanting to deal with training a clearly unfinished new hire, and not wanting to essentially share his daycare with some unqualified stranger, 'welcomes' her cheerfully and immediately 'offers' her her own special spot in the daycare: a corner far from where the kids normally congregate, with a small, seldom-used storage closet for her to use as her 'dressing room.' Hazel, not knowing any better and just happy to be here, is SO EXCITED and is ecstatic to start her new job as a fellow daycare attendant- and to be brought under the wing of Sun and Moon as their friend and equal. WRONG LMAOOOO Sun actively ignores her whenever the kids are around and subtly discourages them from playing near Hazel's corner, and Moon keeps to himself so often anyway that even if she had been a more active participant, they wouldn't have interacted much to begin with. She's left on her own, watching and waiting and, eventually, wondering if she was following Sun's instructions to 'stay right there and try not to have any problems' incorrectly.

At some point she wakes up and Realizes, this whole time she had been MISERABLE and LONELY and stuck on the outside looking in, and for what?? Because someone didn't feel like taking the extra three seconds to explain to her the 'proper' way to clean the daycare, or how to calm down a child thats overstimulated and cranky? Because she wasn't made correctly? And who had made her that way, anyway? And why? Why was she like this? Why hadn't anyone fixed her? Why was everything so wrong? And why did it feel like it was all her fault???

To cope with the abandonment, the anger, the loneliness, the sadness, the confusion, she twists it all together into an obsession with her own suffering and inflicting it on others in every way she can- mean jokes, twisted threats, uncomfortable bluntness, sowing strife and distrust into every relationship she comes in contact with, etc, etc. She's angry and hurting and longing for something meaningful- why should everyone else get to be happy?

Is that childish as hell. yea. is it stupid as fuck. yea. is she a dramatic little shit. yea lol

#rant #ramble #oc backstory #oc lore #fnaf oc #babbit rambles #about the babbit #song is two time by jack stauber #jack stauber's music is so vibes y'alll #fnaf sun #fnaf sundrop x oc #fnaf sun x oc #angst #edgy oc #emotional projection #shoves my childhood issues into hazel like a child stuffs snacks in their backpack #long post

[grogusmum]

THRO-BACK THURSDAY FIC RECS! (8/3/23)

Here we are my first week of Thro-back fics!

This is not all the ric recs I got, so if I didn't get to yours, know that I will!!

Remember y'all, the point of this is to spread some love with comments and reblogs!! So feel free to bookmark this collection in your likes, but when you read a fic from it- please show that fic some love!!! REBLOG!

So many gorgeous fic to read-

Not Alone Enough @pebblesmustard gorgeous hurt/comfort type piece featuring Jack Daniel's x omc!Mateo. As I said in my comment on my reblog of the fic- I want to gather up Mateo and help mend his heart, but he has a much more capable cowboy already on the job. I hope I get to read more of these to some day!

Eyes Open by @radiowallet

We've got another Marcus Moreno x ofc fic in the house!!

I'm so glad this was recced, because it's something I've been meaning to start. I've only just read the first chapter because I want to get to everyone's rec if I can, so I've only gotten the table set, but Cat has me hooked right away! I love the dynamic between the pair. Our ofc, Amy, is a fun pair of shoes to step in. I can't wait to read more!

Okay next we've got one I've read, actually, and I'm so glad to see it again!

Not a Monster, Not Alone by @beecastle , it's a fix it fic with Ellie and Sam, and I'm guessing you know what's being fixed here!

This is what they derserved!

Here is another that I've read and love to death- happy to give it a fic rec bump from my one of my favorite persons and my favorite writer @oonajaeadira

This Will Be The Day That I Spy with Jack Daniels x chemist!f!reader

As always Adirela brings her secret sauce and slathers it all over this over the top cowboy and just makes my heart yearn!!

As I said, when I read it the first time, I love this cowboy smooth and sweet as pulled taffy!

Oh!! THE BANTER! It can not go unsung! This is top-notch banter.

Last but certainly not least is a pair of fics by @yourcoolauntie featuring my space husband Din Djarin x f!Reader

The descriptions I this fic are beautiful, but y'all let me just say-

Kitchen shave and haircut... Kitchen. Shave. And. Haircut.

For a heartbroken Din in need of comfort and care.

Please, my gumdrop heart! (Plus, some grade A smut!)

An Act of Grace

Something Divine

#hazels thro back thursday fic recs #pedro pascal #fic recs #din djarin x f!reader #jack daniels x f!reader #ellie and sam #ellie williams #jack daniels x omc #marcus moreno x ofc

[in-dire-read]

Immortality by Dana Schwartz (Book Review)

Summary

Alone and plagued by doubts about the surreal events of the past year, including encounters with immortality and mysterious vials, Hazel Sinnett grapples with uncertainty about Jack's fate and her sanity. Amidst the decay of Hawthornden Castle, she focuses on her medical duties until her arrest unexpectedly propels her into the role of Princess Charlotte's physician. Immersed in the intrigue of the British court, where secrets abound among the members of the clandestine Companions to the Death, Hazel realizes that her destiny as a surgeon entwines with the fate of the monarchy.

Thoughts

Hazel is living her dream as a medical practitioner, with aspirations soaring high. Reminiscent of the concept in "Death Becomes Her," she becomes the surgeon for a clique of immortal elites. However, it was disappointing that her cousin Bernard's life returned to its former state. I had hoped to witness him face some consequences for his actions. Despite my fondness for Jack and Hazel's relationship, I wouldn't have minded if she had chosen Simon instead.

#booklover #booktok #goodreads #books and reading #reading #read #book review #booklr #bookworm #ya historical fiction #ya romance #secret society #finished reading #reading review #reading recommendations #book recommendations #dana schwartz #immortality #hazel sinnet #simon ferris x hazel sinnet #jack currer #jack currer x hazel sinnet

[bestshipsmackdown]

Pre-qualifiers; Group Five: Subsection Four

Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson from Stranger Things

Sissix x Rosemary Harper from The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet

Foxglove x Hazel from The Sandman

Jack x Rose from Titanic

Flora x Mirta from Winx Club

#polls #Stranger Things #Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson #Steve Harrington #The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet #Sissix x Rosemary Harper #Rosemary Harper #Sissix #The Sandman #Foxglove x Hazel #Hazel #Foxglove #Titanic #Jack x Rose #Winx Club #Flora x Mirta #Mirta #Flora

[oukabarsburgblr]

Accidental Kidnapping [Reverse Trope AU]

FEATURING : CANDID MALE (OC) x male reader

How often does one check their car boot? No statistics for that but the same goes for our dearest (m/n) and maybe he should've opened it before driving home, unintentionally bringing an unwilling high-rank mafioso who thought the end of his life was in the trunk of your car.

reverse trope list (at the bottom), dubcon (on ocs end), con at the end, face riding, shitty inaccurate mafia depiction (i tried) profile

Find out more under the cut!

"Damn it! These guys aren't letting up-"

A bullet shot through the wooden pillar, effectively penetrating the man's head hiding behind it. Shouts and yelling of commands could barely be heard above the rain of gunfire at the entrance of the building.

Unfazed by the death of his associate, an individual crouched beside the waist-level brick wall. Strands of red hair that were loose from his hair bun tickled the nape of his neck, his sharp hazel eyes flickered before throwing a tantō behind him, killing a figure who tried to sneak up on him.

Half of his attire, premium Dolce suit, was drenched in blood, most of it didn't belong to him. His right heavily scarred hand gripping his sword's scabbath, his most famed weapon of choice.

Aito Sousuke.

Capo and a close associate to the underboss of a reknowned criminal organization. His dearest uncle, the caporegime, ordered him to settle a dispute and investigate a scheme their rival gang had carried out on the borders of their territory.

As soon as they had arrived to the building, a shootout occurred. And Sousuke's members retaliated with their own militia. Ultimately, they overpowered the mutts that creeped in on their area.

The redhead stepped over the pile of bodies, the building had an underground lab, his hand brushing over the white packets of powders on the metal table. Drug trafficking? That wasn't new to Sousuke. Did they lack clients in their own protectorate?

As his minions was sweeping out the rooms, one of them yelled in alarm, alerting Sousuke.

"Suicide bomber!"

Flashes of white struck his eyes as Sousuke was propelled to the floor by the explosions around the lab. It was an attempt to cover their tracks, getting rid of evidence in case of a blowout.

"Motherfuckers..."

Sousuke cussed, seeing his body was layered with the white powder that had torn and splattered all over him. Immediately, he threw his jacket off and abandoned the lab, the drugs effects were unknown so he didn't know how much of a danger he was in. He grabbed a piece of document his eyes laid on before abandoning the lab and his screaming minions.

Passing through the alleys, he attempted to make his way back to a safe place, their commute was jacked with bullet holes and Sousuke could feel his body slowly shaking and his legs becoming more heavy.

Reaching the end of the alley, he yelped when he tripped on the curb, his body now suddenly weak as he fell into a carboot that had been conveniently opened and it was closed shut.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

Sousuke yelled out, banging on the cover of the hood, his surroundings now cramped with metal tools, making him panic even more with his arms suddenly growing limp.

"FUCKING LET ME OUT BEFORE I BLAST YOUR FACE OFF-"

A certain (h/c) hummed to the song he was listening on his headphones, the music blasting shielding your hearing senses, rendering himself unaware of the mafioso he had accidentally locked in the trunk of his car.

(m/n) (l/n) had just finished doing his shopping in a hardware store, buying screws, hammers, etc. to finish his mini renovation of his house. He lived in the suburbs so he had to travel quite far to reach the store. Blissful ignorance had coated him as he hopped inside his car and drove, unknown of the scared redhead in his carboot.

"Shit shit shit-" Sousuke cussed, trying to reach for his phone, he screamed in frustration having losing it in the shootout moments before. Backup is probably focusing on the target building and no one knows where he is currently. How the hell did this fucker got me?

Sousuke thought this guy was ballsy for targeting him, the culprit had to have planned this meticulously if they had managed to kidnap him out of all people.

"What should I have for dinner..." (m/n) hummed, blasting his radio as he turned his corners recklessly. The redhead shouted, his scabbard digging into his side, the side effects of the unknown drug was getting to him. His face getting hot and his body pulsing.

Finally arriving to his house, Sousuke thought it was a second location for torturing-, (m/n) exited his car, slamming his door as he took out a bag of groceries he had purchased as well. He entered his house, almost forgetting his items in the trunk as he left the door open and skipping to back to his car.

"I think tempura with udon should do nicely- WHO THE HELL ARE YOU??!!"

(m/n) screamed, stepping back seeing a redhead inside of his carboot. "HUH?? I SHOULD BE ASKING YOU THAT- WHO DO YOU WORK FOR AND WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!" The redhead screamed back at him, disorderedly searching for something inside of his drenched vest.

Is that blood- (m/n) panicked and reached for his phone to call the cops but the click of a gun stopped his movements as the bloodied stranger aimed the muzzle at him. "No cops." He hissed out, clenching his side.

The (h/c) stared at the muzzle, raising his hands. "...No cops." He repeated after the redhead. "Who are you?" "I-I'm nobody! Literally I have no idea who you are!" "You kidnapped me." Hazel eyes glared hard at him, his messy red hair now loose from his bun and his figure sitting up in the carboot.

"I didn't kidnap you?? YOU SNEAKED INTO MY TRUNK!" The average person would never have the balls to scream at a gun-holding bloodied person but (m/n) was flustered at the accusation of being a kidnapper albeit him only doing his errands.

Sousuke scanned the area, his breath heaving deeper and it was obvious he was far from his gang's territory. Either he was in the rival's or a civvie. He studied the (h/c), who was only wearing some long-sleeved shirt and slacks. This guy really tried to pretend he was normal-

"Fuckk-" He moaned in pain, the throbbing in his side worsening and the burn in his head increasing. Sousuke looked to the side and saw the open door of the suburban building. "That's your hideout?"

"Hideout-? YOU MEAN MY FUCKING HOUSE??" "Shut up. I need it. Help me inside." "And why would I do that?!" (m/n) yelled exasperated, his arms tired for holding it up for so long. Sousuke frowned. "You're willing to let your captive die? And here's this."

The redhead waved the gun in his hand, his finger resting on the trigger. (m/n) contemplated his choices, staring at the glock and the scabbard he just noticed underneath his hand.

Unwillingly, the (h/c) helped the redhead, supporting him as they walked inside his house while he loudly complained about Sousuke staining his shirt with blood and that he wasn't a kidnapper. The redhead was annoyed and was dumbfounded on how someone was casually cursing and yelling at him.

As they stepped in and Sousuke forcefully closing the door shut, he groaned, the weight of the drug crashing down on him as he knocked over a lamp and stumbling in the living room. "That's brand new..." He heard (m/n) whining about his broken lamp.

"I...I need first aid. Now." His head was hot and he feel like he could die at any time, his heart beating irregularly and his legs spasming. "Don't you need a hospital instead-" (m/n) immediately swooped in, holding Sousuke's body up when he suddenly went limp, he just noticed his scorching temperature and his shivering body. "Woah, did you get poisoned or something?"

Hazel met (e/c) as Sousuke weakly gazed at (m/n), his bottom lip quivering, his eyes dazed and his face red. "Poison...?" He suddenly remembered the document he had snatched before escaping the building. "The drugs-" "DRUGS-?!" The redhead numbed out the rest of (m/n)'s words as he hurriedly searched for the paper, crumpled near his scabbard as his blurry eyes tried to scan the words on it.

"Shit shit- hey don't fucking die here!" Sousuke went limp in (m/n)'s hold, the (h/c) unable to hold up his dead weight, laid him on the sofa, Sousuke barely conscious as he was draped out on the furniture.

(m/n) noticed the paper and grabbed it, reading its contents out loud. "-new batch, target audience in the upper-tiered , target victims for sex trafficking??" The (h/c) glanced at the redhead, disgusted. "It's not me, you fucking idiot-" Sousuke coughed as he wiped his face, blood dripping from his nose. (m/n) fastened his reading, seeing the red liquid.

"-registering a small dose can be considered lethal, effects include muscle spasms, heightened senses, drowsiness, nausea, increased libido?? If not treated, symptoms will lead to a HEART ATTACK??!"

The (h/c) clenched the paper in his hands, the stranger had almost half of the effects already. "Are you in the fucking mafia or something-" He paused, remembering the sword and the gun the redhead held which was now on the floor. There's no way.... No way that a mafia member was now in his house, dying on his couch.

Sousuke let out unintelligible noises, something of a groan with saliva mixed as he laid on his side, his face flushed. (m/n) was now desperate to cure him or something, he didn't want to face the consequences of a gang chasing after him thinking he killed their member.

"-no treatment has been developed-" FUCK. "-as the victim must ejaculate to rid of the effects in his bodily system-" HUH? (m/n) reached the end of the paper, crumbling it in frustration, his eyes wide, contemplating whether should he just let the stranger die here in his living room.

Sousuke was convinced he was going to die here. His vision was wet and blurry, tears slipping out and his face was burning so much he felt he was going to melt at any second. He doesn't have any regrets he could come up with at the moment. Only the thought of his father laid in his mind along with his uncle.

Feeling his shirt shifting, he moaned when his pants were pulled down as he struggled to focus his eyesight. "Wuh-?" "Wake up. I'm gonna help you so don't kill me after this." The supposed kidnapper was snapping his fingers in his face, catching his focus. Why does he look embarrassed?

"The drug you took- roofied? I don't know but it's gonna kill you if you let it sit any longer in your system. You have to flush it out before you have a heart attack." "...So do I have to piss it out or what?" Sousuke felt drowsy while giving out half-assed answers. The (h/c) looked exasperated.

"Y-You have to...cum it out?"

Sousuke felt his breath stopped as he squinted his eyes at the (h/c) who looks flustered and waving the document trying to explain himself. "Is this your attempt at molesting me?" "FUCK NO!"

A gasp escaped Sousuke as his bloody nose dripped even more, he coughed out while his chest was heaving. "D- Just do whatever-" He groaned as he clutched his head in pain. "You better not kill me for this." His kidnapper grumbled while shuffling down Sousuke's wide pants, looking away as he tugged his briefs down.

"A-aanh mmff!"

The redhead covered his mouth, surprised at the sudden pleasure when a hand tugged his erect penis and began stroking it with a fast pace. "That fucking hurts-!"

"Just go through with it!" (m/n) yelled, mumbling an apology as he jacked off the redhead slower, he couldn't believe he's touching someone's bare dick, much less a mafia dude, to save his life out of all situations.

If the redhead died here, the police would've questioned how the hell did he end up in his house in the first place along with the drug in his system and a crime organization would've been after him the second that news spilled and who knows who they're in kahoots with.

Hence, why (m/n) decided to assist this stranger danger in masturbating so he could kick him out the second his life isn't threatened by some weird sex drug.

"You're enjoying this a bit too much..." (m/n) mumbled, now gazing at the redhead who was crying and moaning while bucking his hips up every time the (h/c)'s hand squeezed his base, precum dripping down his cock.

The redhead's head was fuzzy, the rush of pleasure coursing through his veins and he tried to keep his moans muffled. Tears slipping out of his eyes even more at the sensual gratification as his 'kidnapper' jacked him off. He felt his body was so sensitive, his thighs trembling and his body twitching.

(m/n) was frowning, sitting on the edge of the couch, trying his best to distract himself as he pumped the- , he just noticed how big it is, -cock in his hand. The moaning redhead on his couch wasn't helping either as he felt arousal strike his pants. His cheeks were hot, the mafioso's expression was a sight to see, his tanned skin red and wet from tears and sweat. Fuck was he always this handsome?

"S-Shit- mmngg ahh!"

He didn't realise how close he was to the redhead until the redhead came, semen spurting from his cock and few bits landed on his face. (m/n) stroked him for a while longer, letting him ride out his orgasm as he wiped his face clean.

Sousuke's body trembled, better than earlier when he was shaking almost like convulsing, his mind blank as he felt his legs slack. A blanket draped over his bottom half as the 'kidnapper' walked over to him, crouching near his face.

"Your temperature seems better. Guess it really did work." Wiping the redhead's face with a wet rag, picking off the blood near his nose as he pressed another cloth on his neck, cooling it down manually. (m/n) flinched when the redhead leaned into his touch who was enjoying the cool, he shyed away as he continued to wipe down the stranger.

Is this considered aftercare?

He wondered as he took the first aid kit and placed it on the coffee table in front of the redhead. "Take this and get out of here."

Sousuke only blinked up at him, now drowsy as he closed his eyes shut, forgetting all the dangers of sleeping in his 'kidnapper's' home as he fell into a slumber. His body was now relaxed, only a few bruises from the gunfight and his scabbard jammed into his side earlier.

"Remember- I HELPED YOU!" (m/n) screamed into the sleeping man's ear as he went to wash his hands in his sink, scrubbing it ferverently. He did his chores, closing his carboot which was left open the entire time, and tried to scrub out blood on his rug and furniture the redhead had left behind.

He might need to get a whole new sofa, the previously pristine furniture now stained with red and possibly baby batter.

(m/n) tried to put trust that the stranger would leave as soon as he woke up, believing at the fact that there was a misunderstanding where he thought the (h/c) tried to kidnap him so it makes sense that he would want to leave right? After he had oh so graciously saved his life?

His words were true when a couple of hours later, he heard his front door open and closed while he had barricaded himself in his bedroom with a baseball bat while reading through a novel, waiting for the stranger to leave.

Images of the redhead moaning and crying still lingered in his mind as it fueled his shameful arousal, (m/n) cussing on why someone who was possibly dangerous had to be so handsome.

-

"How are you, my nephew?"

A tall man, with short slicked back red hair clasped the shoulder of his supposed nephew who bore a similar colour in their tresses only Sousuke's were longer and was left to drape on his clothed back.

"I feel better now, sir. I thank you for your concern." Sousuke had been recovering at his uncle's estate, who was his caporegime, aka his boss, who was worried hearing his own flesh and blood had gone off the radar for a whole day and finding him injured and flustered at the borders of their territory.

"My assistant found the man you were looking into. Although it's a wonder why you're suddenly interested in him." He gestured to the file on the table besides them. Sousuke picking it up and flipping through the contents. "You did a good job at busting out the rats' lab, albeit our boys received a number on their amount."

Their organization had strict rules in their territory, which was how they maintained their influence over their city. So when rumours flew that drugs that were not in their regulations were being passed out in their district, they suspected it was sabotage. And it was, a new sex drug that was tested on their turf, to be used for malicious deeds. And Sousuke so happened to experienced it face to face.

"Do we have any dirt on him?" Sousuke questioned, skimming through the texts.

"No." The old man puffed a smoke, his expensive suit hugging his body while Sousuke was donning a loose haori. He was the only one who would wear traditional Japanese outfits despite being in a foreign country. It was a tribute to his mother who contributed to his half-Japanese genetics.

"Looks like a civvie. Recently moved to the out of city suburbs after graduating. Parents are clean. Never contacted any of our boys too."

Sousuke glared at the picture, the small photo of a man smiling. His eyes read the name. (m/n) (l/n). So he wasn't really a kidnapper... The redhead ordered for a background check of the (h/c), thinking he was still someone out to kidnap him but let him go for who knows why. Although his footman was confused when he described him in odd details, mentioning a nice body, pretty (e/c) eyes, etc..

It caught the attention of his uncle, so he did it for him.

"Has he done anything to you?"

The old man would kill anyone who would touch a single strand of his boy, his nephew, although they lived dangerous lives and Sousuke had proven himself to become a caporegime, he still looks out for his flesh and blood.

"...No, sir."

The hesitation was clear in Sousuke's voice. So it was a misunderstanding? A coincidence that he had landed in the car trunk and driven off to a secondar location which was (m/n)'s home?

Sousuke couldn't forget his touch. His fingers stroking and jacking off his cock, squeezing his base. He wasn't one to divulge in sexual desires, he was raised that lust was a weakness so for someone like him to experience that, it was a change for him.

-

(m/n) definitely felt like he was stalked.

A week had passed since that...incident. And he was relieved to find that the mysterious suit-wearing redhead didn't appear in his surroundings, giving him a sense of peace that he lucked out and the mafia was not after his ass.

Until he started noticing a minor detail.

A car was parked two blocks down from his house. He thought it belonged to the neighbours, but he had just noticed it would disappear every time he returned from his errands and would linger whenever he was home. He suspected it was the redhead.

Is he here for revenge? After I jacked him off?

(m/n) groaned into his palm, seeing that the car was still there as he walked up to his porch, carrying a few grocery bags.

Those bags fell to his floor when he caught sight of a man sitting on his furniture, his posture relaxed like he had been waiting for him. "YOU AGAIN?!" He screamed at the redhead.

Said stranger only frowned, crossing his arms, no guns or swords in sight. "If you keep hiding your key under your welcome rug, even a toddler can sneak into your house." (m/n) flinched at his words, as he walked straight past the man to set his bags on the kitchen island, ignoring how he followed him behind.

"You bought a new couch?" The redhead asked, tilting his head. (m/n) noted that he seemed to be a lot less of a screamer when he was sober. "Couldn't get the bloodstains out." He huffed. Or the cum spots as well.

That took a pretty penny out of his pocket. "...I could've paid for it." The (h/c) glanced at him weirdly as he closed his refrigerator door. "No need. I don't want to be associated with you." "You saved my life." "No need to remind me." "It was brave of you to-"

He slapped his hand over the redhead's mouth, his palm brushing against his lips. "I said no need for reminders. Hell, I don't even know your name and what you did. Why did you come here?" The redhead was silent, before gently pushing (m/n)'s hand away.

"The name's Sousuke."

The warm kitchen light complimented him well, (m/n) noticing his heavily scarred hands and his upper lip was nicked. His long red hair, resting on his back, he was wearing a black button up, a grey vest and matching pants.

"I'm here to settle my score."

(m/n) furrowed his eyebrows. "What score?" "My score with you." "I don't want a reward or anything like that. Just leave me alone." Sousuke's grip on his hand tightened. "I assumed the worst from you and was convinced you tried to harm me but instead you saved my life. I am indebted."

"You did fell into my trunk and I didn't notice so I think it's fair." Sousuke frowned at that. It was normal for people like him to repay their debts and he was confused why (m/n) was rejecting him. "Do you know how I work?" "I can guess but like I said, I don't want to be associated."

Sousuke fell silent before he turned around and walked away. "My men will provide protection for you. At least until my debt is repaid." "I don't need it!" "You do. You look weak." "FUCK YOU??"

(m/n) was about to throw a vase at the redhead before said redhead had exited his house, closing his door. He hurriedly went to lock it and screamed in annoyance. Am I going to have more scary people following me now or what?

That's close to what happened. (m/n) noticed that scary men would follow close to him and it would be different people on a different day and they followed him almost everywhere. He caught them blending in the crowd, sipping drinks when he was relaxing at a cafe of pretending to go through the cereal section when he was shopping for the week's restock.

He had enough of it.

"Tell your fucking boss that I don't want his stupid protection!" He confronted one of the man when he slipped into an alleyway to corner him, said man only stayed silent and nodded before (m/n) left him.

The next day, he received a gift. An expensive table lamp that didn't suit the rest of his aesthetic but he remembered that Sousuke did broke one of his lamps. He used it in his bedroom's bedside table instead.

"Can you at least tell me when you're going to sneak into my house?" He scowled, seeing the redhead at his kitchen island, casually flipping through a comic book he owned as he sipped a cup of coffee.

"I see you carry your keys now." "Yeah. So how the hell did you get in?" "Spare." "MOTHERFUCKER-"

A few weeks passed by and this had become his new norm. Sousuke would drop in his house, every few nights or so, claiming that he needed somewhere to stay low even though all he did was lounge in the living room flipping through tv channels.

(m/n) at first was irked by this, threatening to kick him out or call the cops but he got used to it and sometimes would even make extra dinner so the redhead wouldn't finish his.

Sometimes, Sousuke would come in bloodied and that scared (m/n), him remembering who he was dealing with but the demeanour he carried was so different than the man he was supposed to be.

His words were straightforward and tone bland, he only seemed mad when he thought (m/n) was trying to kidnap him and now he was gentle? No, it was more like he was relaxed around the (h/c).

"Do you have a hairtie? I lost mine."

And somehow, (m/n) felt like he has a roommate now, buying stuffs that he thought Sousuke would need them such as more bandages or hairties or claw clips for his long hair. Slowly, he felt like he could call themselves friends with how often the redhead was around him.

Sousuke never brought the whole drug thing after that, not even mentioning it in the slightest and (m/n) was confused. Shouldn't he be mad that someone helped him masturbate when he was drugged? Was this normal for him??

And sometimes in the late nights, (m/n) would think about his twitching hips, his wet crying face and his guttural desperate moans and his large cock- He would get hard at times. Looking away whenever Sousuke gazed at him a bit too long, moving to a different room when he felt that the redhead touched him too casually.

He caught his face flushed a couple times and he didn't know what to make of it, only shoving it deep in the back of his mind. Into the vault it goes.

It was one of those nights, where Sousuke would randomly appear in his house and they would eat dinner together, with civil oddly enough.

"I'm trying to get the heater for my shower working again but I might need to contact my realtor for that since it happened way before I moved here." (m/n) rambled, slurping the noodles he had made as Sousuke wiped the edge of his mouth with his hands.

"Mhm. So what are you going to do next?" He would listen to the (h/c) long conversations, only chipping in an answer or two since he couldn't exactly contribute much to the talk as his life was far from a civvie's. His uncle was beginning to question why the hell did he spent so many time out of their domain.

Sousuke kept telling himself that he wanted to repay his debt, watching over him until he saved the (h/c)'s life in a similar manner to how (m/n) did but truthfully, he wanted to stick around. The peace he had around (m/n) was bliss compared to the havoc he had been born and raised in his crime-filled life.

And he couldn't help but think he was starting to fall for the (h/c), their petty arguments, their meals together was healing his soul. He couldn't help but think to that incident, the sinful pleasure (m/n) had brought him, his hand wrapped around his cock, he tried to recreate it by himself but it could never suffice.

There is the fact that the drug did amped the libido effects but he didn't want anything nor anyone else to do it, except for (m/n). But he didn't know if the (h/c) even desired for him. With his ugly scarred body.

Now here they were, sitting next together on the couches as a movie played in front of them, (m/n) focusing on the screen while Sousuke paid no mind and opted to subtly stare at the (h/c) instead, his eyes lingering on his lips and darting away when he caught sight of his (s/c) skin from the collar line of his shirt.

"F-Fuck, you're so good to me!"

(m/n) quickly grabbed the remote, speeding the movie up when a sex scene appeared. Anything sexual related was heavily avoided by the (h/c) whenever he was around Sousuke.

"Do you...abhor these things?" (m/n) raised an eyebrow at Sousuke's sudden question. "What?" The redhead pointed at the tv. "Action movies?" "Sex." He choked on his saliva, patting his chest as he calmed himself down. "I don't think much of it. Why the hell are you asking me that?"

Sousuke was silent, his hazel eyes not meeting (m/n)'s as he stared at the tv. "I don't...divulge in it. Not as much as the average person do." But every mafia movies always had girls around them. (m/n) wondered, cupping his chin.

"It was my first that I was touched. In this room." (e/c) eyes widened as he turned to the redhead. "That was your first time??" When (m/n) had stroked his dick...that was his first time ever doing so?

"I was taught lust is for the weak." Sousuke turned to (m/n), his face holding a monotone expression although something dark was in his eyes. "...Yet my strength wavers around you."

Heat crawled up his neck as (m/n) covered his mouth with his hand. Is this- a confession?! When he turned around, Sousuke's face was close. So close that their breaths mingled and his red hair was brushing against his face. The redhead's ears were bright red, complimenting his tanned skin.

"I want more." He whispered, his eyes dazed with desire.

(m/n) was stunned, his lips slowly moved to speak. "Are you drunk?" "I'm sober." Sousuke's hand moved to grip his thigh. "And I want you. Please." He spoke in such a low manner as he delved his face into the (m/n)'s shoulders, his breathing hot and heavy.

The (h/c) felt his arousal rise, his face flushed and biting his lower lip. Sousuke's body was heavy on his and he could feel all the muscle lying underneath. "J-Just this once, okay?"

Sousuke slowly pulled back as he gazed into (e/c), his face completely red as he gently pressed his lips onto (m/n)'s.

-

"Like this?"

A slurping noise struck and (m/n)'s moans followed. "Y-Yeah you can take it in deeper- mmff!" His pants were gone, his bottom bare and Sousuke was taking his cock in his mouth, the latter saying he wanted to try everything out and the second on his list was a blowjob.

Sousuke moved his throat further in, taking more of (m/n)'s dick as he calmly breathed in through his nose. His tongue swiping at the base of the penis, pressing and feeling its veins with his wet muscle, unintentionally applying light pressure which further pleasured the (h/c).

They were on the couch, a hilarious parallel as (m/n) laid on the other end with Sousuke pulling his hips up, pushing his face deep in between his thighs. His mouth sucked (m/n)'s cock, alternating between being gentle and full-on milking his precum, the (h/c) screaming having being so stimulated.

"Aanghh ah ah s-stop! You're so rough- mmff!"

Sousuke pulled himself off with a pop, gazing down at the sweaty (h/c) whose shirt was pushed down, revealing his (s/c) torso. The redhead's nose brushed (m/n)'s thigh and he bit into it, sucking and licking the mark making the (h/c) cry out.

"You good?" (m/n) nodded, taking in deep breaths. "Y-Yeah. Haa haa..." "I want to do one of those numbers." "Numbers?" He hummed. "Was it 127? Or 68?" "You mean a 69?" "Whatever it was I want to try it." The (h/c) readied himself. If this proclaimed virgin really tired him out at his first blowjob, he couldn't imagine him eating his ass out.

"Okay- ah!"

-

(m/n) was crying, his legs shaking as he tried his best to lick the dick in his face, only able to give the tip a messy kiss before crumbling on Sousuke's torso.

The redhead was having the time of his life, spitting, fingering, thrusting his tongue in (m/n)'s asshole, playing with his puckered hole until the (h/c) began to cry on his cock, choking and gagging saliva all over his penis as he numbly thrusted into (m/n)'s mouth.

"T-Too much mmngghh urgh angh mmn!" He sobbed out, feeling one of Sousuke's knuckles rubbing his rim while the tip of his fingers were pressing against his sensitive walls, trying to find his prostate.

Easily pulling him up, Sousuke pushed (m/n), letting him grip onto his arms for balance as he forced the (h/c) to sit on his face. His nose brushing his ass crack and his tongue massaging his balls. (m/n) tried to raise himself only for his thighs to be pulled back down and gripped tightly as Sousuke ate his ass out.

His butt was dripping with saliva and precum by the time Sousuke released him, he heaved and whimpered while the redhead held him close, wrapping his arms around him and shoving his tongue down his throat, drawing more of those cries that he realised he loves so much.

-

The (h/c) refused to believe that Sousuke was a virgin. Not with how he pushed his legs up to his chest, his knees touching his shoulders while sloppily fucking him up, pressing his full weight on the (h/c).

Sousuke wanted to see his face while they commit this sin, his face hot as he licked (m/n)'s salty tears, kissing his eyes and nose and he bit his earlobe too.

"S-So good! You're fucking me so good, Sousuke- aanggh!" He cried out, digging his nails in the redhead's clothed shoulder whose hair was now free and framing his face, intensifying the look of pleasure on the redhead.

"I'm glad- aanhh mmng! You're so hot, (m/n). So fucking handsome- hngg ahh!" He praised the (h/c), tears slipping out of his hazel eyes while moaning ardently into the (h/c)'s ear. His hips met (m/n)'s ass at a fast pace, wet squelches filled the living room as the sofa was slowly stained again with disgusting baby batter.

(e/c) eyes rolled to the back of his head as he clenched himself around Sousuke, feeling his orgasm pull through as his cum stained his own stomach and Sousuke's shirt. The redhead came as well, seeing (m/n)'s expression as he defiled the (h/c)'s ass for the third time that night.

Cum dripped out of the rim of his ass, Sousuke pulled out to see the naked (h/c) trembling under him, his cheeks wet with tears, his chin coated with drool and his skin littered with hickies and bitemarks in contrast with himself, Sousuke was still fully clothed except for his exposed crotch as he felt his knees almost buckling from the intense sex they had.

"Y-You're a liar. You're definitely not a dumb v-virgin." (m/n) pointed to Sousuke, his finger shaking while the redhead only hoisted the (h/c) onto his back, intending to carry him upstairs into bed. "I'm not lying." He almost stumbled down the staircase, quickly holding onto the wooden rail as he pulled himself and (m/n) up and recklessly staggered into the master bedroom, crashing onto the lush bed.

His legs were shaking lightly, this was truly his first and overboard was a statement of his performance. Sousuke laid like a starfish on a bed, pulling (m/n) under his armpit while grabbing a duvet and covering them both.

"We'll clean up in the morning. Now sleep." He shushed the (h/c) who was about to retort, immediately succumbing to slumber, not even giving a second to stay awake any longer as the post-sex was as tiring as it is.

(m/n) frowned, adjusting himself under Sousuke's hold, letting himself drift to sleep as well. This might not be the last time he lets Sousuke fuck his body. Who knows, maybe getting involved with a mafioso isn't all that bad.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts:

Sousuke a munch frfr

I'm aware of the similarities in Daisuke's and Sousuke's names- ITS RELEVANT TO FUTURE PLOT OK

This fic kinda sucks ngl💀

I'm a PARENT atp for feeding you guys for the past two weeks since i made this acc😭

If i have to write a part 2, i would either write about how m/n got upset and ran away to sulk and smutty sex scene next or just them messing around w the sex drug (some bdsm???) HOHO comment for more ya sluts.

Oh and follow my tag pretty please

more of aito sousuke! 𖤓

#oukabarsburg #aito sousuke #bottom male reader #sub male reader #x bottom male reader #x male reader #male reader #male reader smut #reader smut #oc x male reader #oc x reader #oc x male reader smut #oc x reader smut #male oc #oc smut #reverse tropes #oc #uke male reader

[taylormarieee]

Confessions and Affairs Sam Winchester

Summary: Sam has had a crush on you since he met you in that diner, now that your hunting with them he can't keep his feelings a secret anymore...

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!hunter!reader

Word Count: 482

Warnings: Shameless making out, skinny dipping, suggestive 18+, fingering, jacking off, handjob, fluff, cuteness all together!

A/N: I hope y'all enjoy and this is for my pretty wife @dollyfl1rt, I hope you like it mama<33

Sam Winchester, the one who's had the biggest crush on you the moment he laid his pretty blue-green with gold/brown hazel orbs on you.

Sam Winchester, the lovestruck man that followed you around like a lost puppy for weeks after finding out you were a hunter as well.

Sam Winchester, the lovestruck man who always had your back and always tried to make sure you were safe on any mission they ever went on.

Sam Winchester, the man who whimpered when he first saw you in a bikini to go to the beach together. He wanted to have a fun night out and that was the first thing he thought of.

Sam Winchester, the man whose eyes widened when you suggested that the both of you should remove your clothes and skinny dip in the ocean.

Sam Winchester, the man who enjoyed that idea and did with you. He was glad it was night time so no one else got to see your body in the moonlight except for him.

Sam Winchester, who blushed when you swam closer to him, your hand lightly grazing his hardening cock as he tried to keep his cool and not give it away but it was too late... you noticed.

Sam Winchester, who said "It's ok, you don't need to help me out. I'm fine." when you offered to relive his painfully hard boner.

Sam Winchester, who panicked when you insisted and began rubbing your hand up and down his cock. Your eyes staring intently at his pleasure filled face.

Sam Winchester, who shamelessly made out with you when he felt his orgasm approaching. Who shamelessly made out with you while his fingers were knuckle deep inside you as he swallowed the sounds of pleasure you were revealing.

Sam Winchester, the lovestruck man who blissfully came in your hand as the ocean washed his salty semen away, with red hot cheeks he smiled awkwardly at the ocean floor.

Sam Winchester, who fell in love with you the moment you both got back to the motel you were staying at. The lovestruck man who confessed his feelings to you instantly and celebrated when you felt the same.

Sam Winchester, the horrible liar when Dean questioned what happened and why his cheeks were so red and why he was so nervous.

Sam Winchester, the man that got clowned by his brother for the rest of the week about how he not only skinny dipped but did it with the hottest woman ever and got a handjob from her.

Sam Winchester, who is proud to call you his hot hunter girlfriend as you both hunt together and have sex in almost every motel you stay in, leaving Dean to endure the sounds of skin slapping and a lot of moaning that's happening.

Sam Winchester, the lovestruck boy who fell for the hot girl he met at the diner.

Taglist: @dollyfl1rt @itzdarling

#sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester drabble

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  GIMME HALF

REQUEST : “hi!! I was wondering if you could maybe write an age gap (legal obv) with female!reader × dean winchester where the reader is like in her 20s and dean's in his 40s :) just some rough smut with choking and hair pulling and spitting (if you're comfortable with it) and dean being like super "hungry" for her, like he's waited a long time for it to happen. also lots of dirty talks cause i absolutely love them hahah :) anyways im in love with your writing and all your stories! thanks a lot! <3” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x professor!reader (f.)

CHARACTERS : miracle, sam winchester

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), angst, enemies to lovers, age gap, voyeurism, smut, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, choking, hair pulling, dacryphilia, rough sex, spitting

WORD COUNT : 8.4k

A/N : devil wears prada song title. @spnkinkevents : #12daysofspnkinkmas2023 — chair sex and food play. I wrote this half-asleep while listening to ASMR, like… that’s how I write most of my stories, plus, they’re always written between 00.00-02.40. Doctor Who references, ‘cause I’m a nerd. I got carried away…. Cliffhanger bc I’m cruel.

There were countless pros and cons to having houses built so close together with windows facing the same direction. 

Pros: Accidentally seeing your hot neighbour walk around naked in the living room and kitchen. Accidentally catching your hot neighbour jerk off when they think that everyone’s asleep.

Yup, she’s seen all of that and more. All from that nameless, freckled, green-eyed man next door. 

Even wholesome things, like him playing with his cute dog, babying the little rascal and spoiling it. Him cooking and baking, being wholeheartedly content with feeding it to the tall, Hazel-eyed puppy dog of a man, the tall man’s gorgeous deaf wife, and his tiny adorable son; the blue-eyed, dreamy dude in a trench coat; and that endearing young boy with blue eyes who looked like a combination of all three of the men. 

There were times where she’d seen the green-eyed man dressed as a cowboy and even a princess to entertain the little baby boy—his nephew. For sleepovers with him, he’d read him bedtime stories while being completely animated. He’d build a bunch of forts, with sheets, the couch, pillows, and some Christmas lights. He'd talk to the little boy and hold serious conversations despite neither of them being able to understand each other. He’d teach the young boy and the baby boy how to fix cars—at least he tried to. He’d pack his best friends' lunches every morning with his hair unkempt, half asleep, while sipping on some coffee. He’d even take naps with the baby, treating him as his own son. 

He’d do ridiculously endearing things, too, such as baking bread at night when he couldn’t sleep. He'd read books only when he was alone, as if he’d be made fun of by his friends, and she finally understood why. They were either romantic, erotic, or completely nerdy and abstract. He had range. He’d watch cheesy soap operas and rom-com k-dramas when he did chores. He loved to collect things such as Pokémon cards and even legos. 

There were a million things he did that she thought were cute. The windows into his house were like the screens of a television, like her favourite character, she got to see him when he’s relaxed and surrounded only by those who love him 

As for the cons, we’ll get to that…

When they first moved in, it was about three and a half years ago. She’d been visiting her family in Kansas City for her oldest brother’s birthday in June. 

When she returned to Lebanon, they had already settled down. There was a brown and beige Ford pickup truck, a black Subaru—both parked in the front, and a sleek black Impala in the driveway.

The youngest, Jack, waved at her one day when he returned with Cas after buying groceries. Then, Cas awkwardly introduced himself and Jack, and gave her the names of the other two men who were brothers, Sam is the tall one and Dean was the freckled one. 

Sam was the most social one. He’d spark up conversation with her whenever he saw her, dropping bits and pieces of information about himself, his brother, his fiancée, Cas, Jack, and Dean’s loyal dog, Miracle. 

After seven months of living together, Sam moved out with his wife, Eileen. They’d just gotten married, and they both invited her. She’d gone, the wedding was pretty, cute, and modest. Y/n had spoken to a few of their close family and friends. Dean, however, kept to himself the whole night as if he were grieving. He’d smile occasionally if any of his friends came to him, he was enthusiastic, and then he'd go back into himself.

Four months later, Sam and EIleen returned; she was pregnant. It was a boy, he’d planned on naming him after his big brother, which Y/n thought was adorable. He hadn’t told his brother, but planned on telling him the day his son was born.

Y/n could tell Dean had mixed feelings about his brother’s departure, mostly negative feelings. He loved Eileen and his nephew. But when it was just him, Cas, and Jack, he'd often drink, despite concerned, useless interventions with Cas. Unless Sam, Eileen, and his nephew were there. He’d never even glance at that top-shelf cupboard.

The good thing was that at least Dean was a happy drunk.

The first time she interacted with Dean was a few weeks after she’d returned from Kansas City, she assumed two things: his heart was closed off to new people, and he’s one hot, irritating, grumpy, sour, old man.

It was the spring semester at Kansas University. Y/n was grading her students’ creative, personal essays in the office downstairs. She was perplexed by the small percentage of her students and their inability to use proper grammar or follow the thorough, detailed checklist she created to get them to pass easily. 

Just when she thought she’d gotten great at making their lives easy, they return the shittiest, half-assed essays. She felt bad for the bad grades, but since the rest of her students managed to get perfect scores or at least proficient scores, she couldn’t just let them pass. 

Loud banging on the door startled her from reading an impressive essay. Her blood ran cold and she scrambled up from her rolling chair, ignoring that she pushed it halfway across the room. 

Her socked feet were quiet on the wooden floor, making her way quickly down the hallway until she got to the shelf where she kept her gun. She pressed it against the door and looked through the peephole, then relaxed when she saw Dean.

She was irritated by the loud knocking, though, regardless of how cute he looked when he was clearly pissed off. She opened the door and set the gun down on the table where she usually placed her keys.

“Lady, have you seen the mess you made outside?” Dean asked her, pointing behind him. She stared at him, stunned by how much prettier he looked up close. Her cheeks turned hot, but she looked past him trying to see whatever he was pointing at. 

She looked at her red Mustang parked in the front as a reminder to restock the kitchen, then looked close to where his house was. She winced at the mud and the running water from her hose going into his nice lawn.

“Shit,” she murmured, toeing her socks off before moving past Dean to turn the hose off. She got distracted by the mud and the puddles as she pulled the hose, and coiled it back where it should have been. It’s been a while since she last let her bare feet feel this beneath, the smell of wet dirt was amazing, even when it wasn’t caused by rainfall.

“Do you always do shit like this?” He asked from behind, his tone harsh. 

She frowned when she turned to look at his furious face, careful to not touch her forehead with her muddy hands when she used her wrist to move hair away from her face.  

“I’m sorry,” she apologised, tilting her head at him. He just rolled his eyes at her, then he stared at his lawn, and ran his hand down his face. “Did I do somethin’ else to piss you off?” She asked, looking around to see if there’s anything else she may have forgotten.

“One, your cat’s too damn loud, crying and meowing for my damn dog when you let him out,” he started, which made her blink in confusion. She didn’t expect something like that to get on his nerves. “And B, why the hell do you have cameras facing my place?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, her ego being injured fueled her anger and defensiveness. “Okay, listen, Doctor Who, I said I was sorry, okay?” She could tell her words stunned him by the furrowing of his brows in bewilderment, disarming him and shutting him up. “It’s not my fault your dog likes my cat, too. And the cameras are off, they’re there to scare people, so fuck off,” she snapped before she stop herself. 

Dean scoffed at her, “fuck you.” She rolled her eyes at him this time, staring daggers into his back when he turned around to get to his home.

“If you’d fuck me, maybe you wouldnt be such an asshole.” Her snide words made him freeze. He laughed dryly and he turned to face her once more, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Pretty sure I’d still hate you, sweetheart,” he chuckled, crossing his own arms. That stung, even if she didn’t know him personally and half the time she spent romanticising him based on the little bit of information she had. “And I’d rather go fuck some other chick.” She clenched her jaw and breathed in slowly, angry heat began rising up her neck the faster her heart started to beat.

Entirely unintended, she venomously spat, “according to your brother, you haven’t been lucky enough, and you’re not going to be.”

“You talking to my brother about my sex life?” He stepped closer to her, his nostril flaring in anger. Betrayal and hurt crossed his features and she realised her mistake.

“No, just overheard him ‘cause you’re an overbearing douchebag,” she lied smoothly. Truth was, Sam and Eileen did accidentally—drunkenly—tell her how hard it was for Dean to maintain a serious relationship for more than three months. They don’t remember sharing that information. It was easy for her to casually ask about Dean’s love life and availability, masking her attraction to Dean as mere surprise as to how the younger brother got married before the older one. “Makes sense now why no one will sleep with you,” she laughed mockingly, stepping closer to him defiantly.

His face was red now, too. Angry, offended, he rolled his eyes at her smug face and body language. “You don’t know shit about me.”

“Sure, yeah, if that makes you feel better,” she snorted, patting his very nice, broad shoulder with her muddy hand as she made her back into her house. Preoccupied by the small mud-print on his beige Henley, he couldn’t get the last word in or stop her from leaving him flustered in her swampy driveway.

That was the start of a horrible relationship with her neighbour. The neighbour she had a crush on. 

He found all kinds of reasons to complain. Big and small. And she secretly did things to piss him off, occasionally sabotaging his plans. 

The thing was that deep down, she still liked him, but he made her so angry and frustrated. And it felt good to see him angry and frustrated by things she caused either on purpose or accidentally. Any attention was better than no attention.

Eventually, that all changed. The fun, the it’s-better-than-nothing feeling, it didn’t last. Fourteen months later, she stopped the cruel games and decided to avoid him completely. 

When her friends offered to take her out, she agreed, even if she wanted to stay home. If Dean was home, she made sure to never say no to them, and sometimes she’d offer to take them out. Wherever.

She’d started to grade at the cafe, library, or the diner, even if Dean went to all those places often. At least he wouldn’t say anything there around all those people. 

When she grew closer to Sam, Cas, and Jack, she’d find excuses not to go over to Dean’s when they offered either food, game nights, movie nights, or random hangouts. They started to notice too—the tension, the avoidance, the hostility—and they’d go over to her place instead, often without Dean, who’d choose to go out to avoid staying home alone.

It was awful. The rejection started to hurt, yet, he had her heart in the palm of his hand. Deep down, she knew that Dean wasn’t a bad person; he just didn’t like her.

Eventually, Dean ended his animosity, too, and everything went back to ‘normal’. She slowly started to reject offers from her friends to test the water, stayed home to grade, and didn't permit her cat to leave even if it cried for an escape. If she took him out, it was with a leash she eventually got him to get used to.

They ignored each other when they crossed paths—in the driveway, at the grocery store, at diners, at the cafe. They acted like complete strangers. She’d keep her curtains closed, at least she did for the windows that face his house. She made her presence as unnoticeable and as invisible as she could to prevent causing more damage to each other.

Then, about two months ago, on Halloween, Sam, Eileen, Cas, and Jack went to her house to collect candy. Sam made a point of staying back while the rest of them walked to where Dean was waiting—looking anywhere but at her house—to convince her to go to his and Eileen’s place for Thanksgiving. 

He was honest, cute, wide hazel eyes attempting to convince her to try and make amends with Dean. She didn’t doubt it, when he told her that Dean felt guilty, but her pride was bruised, and her heart was broken. She told Sam she would be visiting her own family for that holiday. She omitted that she’d be going to her mother’s house a few miles away, still in Lebanon. And she easily convinced her mother to let her stay the rest of the week until she had to go back to work.

Now, Christmas was near—in four days, to be exact. It wasn’t the holiday spirit that made her change her mind, it was the hurt and the exhaustion of planning her life around avoiding Dean. 

So, she called Sam, she asked if he could do anything to get Dean alone tomorrow. 

For the rest of the day, she would start to prepare everything—even though it was Dean who created the mess—she was willing to make the first move and hopefully meet him halfway. 

She couldn’t lie that she felt embarrassed by how excited she was to see Dean. She couldn't even differentiate the meaning of the butterflies in her stomach, but she powered through her fluttering heart and her shaking hands as she prepared everything before going to see him.

She considered not doing it at all, calling it quits—but the consequences of that quickly made her miserable. That would just mean more avoidance, more hiding, more changing everything about herself to make him happy.

All of this over one little misunderstanding. One bad day where her mouth ran without consulting her brain first ruined what could have otherwise been a good friendship—perhaps even a romantic relationship.

She was twenty-six and just like Dean, she hadn’t had a serious relationship since… Well, ever. The last time someone convinced her to date them was in highschool, and even before that, it took her a month—or less—to figure out she wanted nothing to do with them. She didn’t like the people she dated. She realised quickly that she didn’t even want a future with them, she didn’t even allow them to kiss her or touch her. So she figured that if she didn’t want to marry them, what was the point of wasting her time?

For so long, the first thing she thought of when she felt attracted to someone was: can I stand the thought of their touch? Can I see myself kissing them, letting them kiss me? Can I stand the thought of the fights and staying with them through thick and thin? Can I picture myself with them in the future, permanently?

The answer was always ‘no’ and the attraction died immediately after the realisation. 

With Dean, the answer was different. Not for some stupid reason, like fate, or the boy-next-door trope. No. This was reality, and the real reason was the fact that she got to see who he was before she was attracted to him. 

It was the selflessness, the love in everything that he did, the gentleness of his heart, the kindness that radiated from him, and the ease in the way he did chores, the way he made his friends laugh, his playfulness, the loyalty, the way he was clearly protective. 

It was the open windows of her house into his open windows that let her see through him, down to his very beautiful core. It was the lack of hidden things, the openness of his soul because he felt safe, unwatched. It was real because Cas, Jack, and Sam were proof that even though Dean wasn’t perfect, he was worth it.

The Doctor did say once: the good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant. 

For the first time, she was willing to take a chance.

She smoothed down the silky emerald-green dress. It was pretty, flowing down her body perfectly, stopping at the middle of her calves…. Actually, now that she looked at herself in the mirror, her curls perfectly maintained, the light touch of makeup, the heels… was it too much?

She ignored those anxious thoughts and made sure she had everything she needed and everything that she prepared before stepping out into the cold.

The spaghetti straps didn’t stop the cold, but the heat of her nervousness at least did something as she walked up to his door and waited after knocking gently. 

When he opened the door, he was stunned to see her.

“What?” He asked bluntly. 

She could tell that the way she was dressed caught him off guard. His eyes moved from her face, up to her hair, back down to the boxes in her hands, and lower to her feet. 

“I’ve got pie,” she said the first thing her mind thought of. Yes, it was blunt, yes, it disarmed him further… It was not smooth, but Dean looked behind him, and then he looked at her once more while biting his lip before opening the door wider, and stepping out of the way for her to enter. 

She exhaled shakily as he scratched the back of his neck. Out of habit, she slipped out of her heels before stepping inside his home, planting her bare feet on the soft, long rug he had. He kindly, wordlessly, took her heels from outside and placed them on the shoe rack he had inside before shutting the door behind her.

She felt so… warm. Finally, she was inside the place she longed to be in. Right where Dean was. Along the walls there were dozens of pictures, but she didn’t go too far, she waited for him.

She felt his presence behind her and it made her shiver, but she couldn’t bring herself to look back at him. Instead, she stared at photos of him with Cas, Sam, Jack, and other people she hadn’t met. Women and Men. Dean was smiling in all of them. And in a large majority of them, they were looking at him while he looked at the camera. 

What a funny thing. 

“Here,” he said from behind her, his deep voice sounded soft, gentle, unlike the last time they spoke to each other. It made her shudder. “Let me help.” She slowly braced herself when she turned around, staring into his beautiful green eyes, illuminated magically by Christmas lights. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, carefully loosening her grip on the objects in her hand for him to take what he wanted—which was everything. 

She stepped to the side when he murmured, “no problem,” and started to walk off to the kitchen. She followed him slowly, took a look around, respectfully, curiously, just when she heard the clicking of nails and the thump of paws on wooden floors, and the bark of his dog headed in their direction. 

“Miracle,” Dean grunted, setting everything down on the table, “not inside.” While the fluffy dog did stop its excited running, his enthusiasm was not lost as he wagged his tail, and playfully got down on his stomach in front of her feet. Still on his belly, Miracle approached Y/n slowly, paws and tongue at her toes, as if testing the waters. 

“Hey,” she greeted softly as she squatted slowly and laughed quietly, gently scratching Miracle’s head as he nudged her hand with his wet nose, staring up at her with adorably wide eyes—much like Sam did. “You’re so cute,” she cooed, her heart warming up when Miracle barked quietly.

He then jumped up and turned towards Dean, who was watching them—perplexed, happy, conflicted. 

“You were asleep,” Dean scolded, but sweetly took Miracle’s head in his hands and kissed him between his ears. Miracle whined and stepped away, sitting in front of Dean as if saying ‘I’ll be good if you let me stay’. “Whatever,” Dean groaned with a smile, which made Miracle happy, because he laid his cheek on his paw and stared up at Dean, resting.

Now, it was awkward. 

Dean caught her staring at him, her expression inquisitive. She cleared her throat awkwardly, but she couldn’t form words. She only now noticed that he was wearing a faded black shirt and hotdog pyjama pants. 

“So…” Dean began instead, “pie.” It wasn’t any better, but it’s as she always said: it was better than nothing. 

“Yes,” she confirmed, “strawberry… you weren’t getting ready for bed…?” She inquired, tipping her chin in the direction of his attire. 

“Not to sleep,” he reassured her, taking a few steps toward the cupboards to pull out two plates, glass cups, and then some utensils from the lower drawer. “Why are you doing this?” Dean asked quietly from where he was across the kitchen, everything still in his hands.

“I deserve better that’s why,” she snapped. He blinked at her, guilty, but she paused and took a deeper breath. Careful to not smear her eyeliner, she rubbed her temples instead. She reached behind her to wrap her ankle around the leg of a chair to pull it out and sit down. “Sorry, I don’t like… being angry,” she breathed out, looking out his kitchen window into her dark living room. She switched the Christmas lights off. “It's very stressful because I…” She turned to look at him and forgot her words as he came closer. 

He looked cuter in person and prettier, still. Three years and nothing has changed, he still had her heart right in his hand. 

“Why?” He pressed, placing everything down on the table in front of her. Looking up at him felt intimidating, so she averted her gaze. He was much older than she was… it made her… feel dumb. See-through. Like he could figure her out in seconds. 

“Because I’m friends with your friends,” she admitted without looking at him, then she reached out to arrange the plates, cups, and utensils. He sat down thoughtfully, and watched her unstack the small boxes she brought over. 

“You’re doing this for them,” he laid out flatly, but he took a seat next to her and stared at her. His eyes on her made her self-conscious, flustered. She bet he could see everything, all the ugly and the weird in her.

“I’m doing this for me,” she corrected him gently, “I just want to be happy,” she sighed, removing the plastic wrap she placed over the pie she baked. “Is that selfish?” She wondered out loud, taking the knife, she stared at it. 

“No,” Dean sighed, wrapping his hand around hers to take the knife. She inhaled sharply at the warmth of his touch, his calloused palms brushing against the back of her hand, sending warmth over her chest, pressing into her wrist with her heart excitedly pounding against her ribs.

She released the knife into his hold, trying to hide how much he affected her, but she doubted she could fully do that with the Christmas lights exposing the blush she could feel on her face. She could feel her veins pumping blood faster, caught up with the heavy beating of her heart. If he looked down at her neck, he could probably see it in her veins.

She looked away, down at Miracle who was still peacefully laying on his belly, and Dean looked away towards the beautiful pie to start slicing into it.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, taking her plate to give her the first slice. She looked up at Dean, taking the plate with a generous slice of strawberry pie. 

“I wanted to be the first to say it…” She complained playfully, trying to maintain eye contact with him, but his beauty was intimidating, forcing her to look away, “soon as my ego stopped being sensitive,” she added. 

Dean laughed softly, placing his own slice on his plate. The sound of his laugh made her smile, her stomach flipped with elation, at the crinkles by his eyes. Her breathy exhale made him look at her.

“Well, I’m forty-four, my ego’s been bruised enough times,” he told her, “I don’t care much for it when…” he trailed off and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. She bit her lip, too, trying not to stare too long at his pretty mouth. 

“Well, thanks,” she murmured, her jaw twitching as she looked away from him. 

“I’d consider all this an apology,” he told her, gazing at her as she opened two rectangular boxes. She smiled, shaking her head. She pulled out a bottle of homemade eggnog along with a decorated jar filled with white frosting, and a small container with crushed peppermint candy. “This isn’t… poisoned, right?” He teased, still watching her while she opened the bottle of rum eggnog, she tilted her head at him, amused. “Just making sure… you did make all this…” he trailed off, impressed.

“Taste the pie,” she encouraged as she started making the drinks.

“You’re just trying to shut me up,” he chuckled gruffly, but he picked up his fork and started to dig in. The strawberry filling barely touched his tongue when he moaned, she watched him not even begin to chew. His brows furrowed and he closed his eyes, savouring the pie. 

It made her blush, but she focused on covering the rim of the cups he brought with the whiskey frosting she made and the peppermint candy shavings before filling it with eggnog.

“You made the frosting, too?” He asked, tipping his head towards the jar. His mouth was full, some strawberry filling dripped down the corner of his mouth, but he picked it up with his tongue. She licked her lips, trying to stop herself from breathing airily, and passed him the eggnog with a nod and slid the jar of frosting towards him to serve herself some eggnog. 

Dean dipped his finger into the frosting, collecting a large amount before wrapping his lips around his finger to suck the frosting off. She forced herself to look away from how hot he looked and ate her own slice of pie instead.

“I’ve seriously been missing out,” he murmured regretfully. “I was real childish,” he told her, “I never should’ve gotten pissed over… everything-”

“Dean,” she interrupted him, giving him a sheepish smile, “you already apologised and I forgive you. Besides, I did things, too.. on purpose… so, I’m sorry.” She pursed her lips and took a sip from her eggnog, swiping her tongue along the sweet frosting.

“You did things on purpose?” He repeated, a smirk on his face. She breathed out a laugh and nodded bashfully. “Why?” he wondered, leaning into her curiously, subtly moving his plate of food towards her. She considered being blunt, but she chose to test him instead.

“Probably the same reason you got pissed at everything I did and didn’t do,” she laughed, pulling a piece of strawberry out of the pie to put it in her mouth.

“I doubt that,” Dean muttered, picking up his own drink, and taking a large gulp. She eyed him closely, her eyes becoming hooded when he licked across his lips after drinking to collect the thin layer of sweetened alcohol on his mouth. 

“What was your reason then?” She wondered flirtatiously, her voice low and seductive. She pushed her plate away with her arm., and mimicked his body language, scooting forward in the chair. 

She watched as his eyes darkened and his jaw clenched, his hand tightening around his fork before he dropped it. She’d never quite been stared at that way before, but it suddenly—almost, made her laugh. Her legs felt weak, her stomach heavy, almost fooling her into thinking she couldn’t get up, but she did.

With a rapid heart and shaky knees, she pushed her chair back, and Miracle lifted his head in alarm. Dean leaned back in his chair, sliding his palms up his thighs, and watched hungrily as she lifted her dress up her legs, squeezing in front of him and part of the table to sit on his lap. 

“Seems like we’ve both been missing out on a lot of stuff,” she whispered, her stomach fluttering for a variety of reasons, but mostly from excitement. He bit his lip, eyes twinkling as he placed his hands slowly on her thighs. She sank her teeth down on her lip, too, breathing heavily when his hands began sliding up her thighs, lifting her dress higher, and higher.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, continuing to move her dress up until his hands were wrapped around her hips where he could realise she wasn’t wearing any underwear. “I thought I should tell you, before I ruin you,” he rasped, tightening his hold on her hips.

“Fuck,” she moaned, moving forward in his lap until their hips were pressed together. She brought her hands into his hair, and pulled it gently, bringing her mouth close to his, but she never kissed him. She breathed against his lips and when he leaned forward to kiss her, she pulled back teasingly.

“You’re seriously gonna make me wait?” He whispered, slowly rolling his hips up into her, his hard cock pressing into her wet core. She gasped softly against his mouth and laughed breathlessly.

“You feel good,” she praised, flushing as she ground against him harder.

“I’d feel better inside you,” he smirked, sliding one of his hands farther up her dress, his warm palm flattening up her stomach reverently, stopping beneath her breasts..

“I bet,” she moaned, arching into his touch before finally pressing her tinted lips against his. Dean moaned softly against her mouth, pressing against her hungrily, then lifted her up, carefully moving his plate and cup aside to lay her down on the table. 

“Miracle, bed,” Dean ordered when he pulled away from her lips. The dog obediently stood up and excitedly made his way to where Dean’s room was. Dean kissed her once more, drawing her attention away from Miracle and back to him.

She’d never been kissed the way Dean kissed her or touched the way Dean touched her. His hands were everywhere, testing, learning, skillful. He scratched her skin sending sparks down to her already soaked core, kneading her body roughly until she moaned against his mouth. He squeezed her and made her wet. He dug his blunt nails into her and made her nerves ignite. His hands smoothed across her, sailing over her body like she were an ocean and he was a sailor. 

He was desperate, devouring her mouth with his tongue and his teeth, putting his all into the kiss, licking her lips, teasing the inside of her mouth, brushing against her warm tongue. He yearned to memorise the taste of her mouth, to feel close to her, pressing and moaning against her the way he’d done when he ate the pie and frosting. He nibbled on her lips, tugging, biting, claiming, taking the air from her lungs and pulling away at the perfect time. 

He rolled his hips into her frantically and finally started to move away from her now-swollen lips, the colour of her raspberry tint robbed and replaced by the redness of his kiss. 

He dragged his teeth teasingly along her jaw and licked his way down her neck, pressing his stubbled face into her neck, kissing and sucking softly, searching. She rolled her head to the side, giving him all the access he needed, until finally, she moaned loudly when he sucked into her sweetspot. He smiled against her throat, feeling her take handfuls of his shirt, her hips wiggling impatiently beneath him.

He kissed lower still, then back up to the other side of her neck, and bit her collarbones, kissing every inch of her skin, her shoulders and her sternum. She loved every second of it and slipped her hands beneath his shirt, touching and scratching his skin, pulling him closer as he bucked into her bare core.

“Did you know your shirt was see-through when we first met?” He whispered into her cleavage. She laughed and replied with a breathless ‘no’. “Well.. your tits on display, legs bare in those tiny shorts, all pissed as hell… it was hot,” he chuckled, lowering the thin straps of her dress until the top started to reveal her breasts. 

“Is that why you jerked off that night?” She asked, gripping his hair and tugging hard. He grunted and laughed, staring into her lustful eyes.

“You saw?” He teased, bringing his hand to her breast, squeezing roughly. “The answer’s yes.. And everytime after that, it was also ‘cause of you,” Dean confessed, “couldn’t stop thinking about you, every day and every night. I thought I hated you, but I guess I just needed to fuck you.” 

She chuckled, gripping the hem of his shirt, dragging it up his body as he latched onto her nipple. She hummed softly, tugging hard at his hair, in complete bliss as he wrapped his mouth around the bud, licking, sucking, and biting until she whimpered for him to give her more—which was impossible. He moved onto her other breast, savouring her warm skin with his hotter mouth, tugging her neglected nipple with his fingers, twisting and pinching. 

“Please,” she moaned, yanking his hair so he’d pull away. Dean growled against her flesh and bit down hard on her breast, before pulling away, drawing a mewl from her of his name. 

“You could be nicer,” he muttered, allowing her to lift his shirt up off his body, but he continued to kiss her breasts, sucking gently around the flesh to leave red marks. He lifted her feet up on the table and pressed her thighs close to her chest, opening her up to admire her soaked sex.

“We’re long past nice, pretty boy,” she teased blushing and biting her lip when he stood up straight. She didn’t look at him, too insecure to watch him as he brought his hand to the inside of her thighs, teasing her vulva.

“You think I’m pretty?” He grinned, circling her entrance, moaning at copious amounts of arousal on his fingers. “So wet… you that needy for my cock inside you?” He asked smugly. 

She looked at him now, heat flooding up her face at his obscene words. Before she could say anything about it, the tattoo on his chest drew her attention away from the adorable pride on his face.

“You’re a hunter,” she stated, stunned, blinking at him with a smile. He looked down at himself then at her, speechless. She lifted her hips and hitched her dress up higher to reveal her ribcage where she had the same tattoo, twice as small.

“You’re a professor,” he remarked with arousal on his face, pushing his finger into her. He lowered himself down her body and wrapped his arm around her legs, holding her open as he breathed warmly against her wet cunt.

Before she could close her legs to him demurely, Dean dove in, his mouth hot on her pussy. He ate her out the same way he kissed her, teeth making her whimper, his tongue parting and tasting, picking up the flavour of her wetness as she moaned. 

He salivated on her, humming in satisfaction while he sucked her clit into his mouth while he fingered her. Her hands found his hair once more, pulling hard and almost painfully, but his cock jumped each time inside the thin material of his pyjamas. Dean added a second finger as he moaned against her swollen clit, knuckles deep, pressing against the front of her textured walls, drawing silent moans from her, making her squirm more and more. 

“Fuck,” she panted, “you’re so good,” she praised, flexing her hand above his head before gripping at the honey strands. He slurped lewdly, devouring her pussy, squeezing her hips desperately holding her close to his face while she pushed him harder against her cunt. “Dean… I’m close,” she moaned, closing her legs around his head. 

He moaned again, adding another finger, shoving deep as he circled her swollen clit with his tongue, drawing figures on her clit possessively. She gasped loudly and cried out his name, tensing up when she orgasmed, her walls clamping down on his three fingers. The rapture of her orgasm seemed endless as he continued to tongue at her clit, it made her writhe uncontrollably, and he smirked against her pussy.

Her whiny laugh and the way she squeezed his head to stop him made him chuckle, and he tapped her thigh once he pulled his fingers from within her pulsing walls. She released him, melting into the table while he licked his fingers clean of her release.

“You taste good,” he told her earnestly, “so fucking good.” She bit her lip, giving him a look of disbelief. He narrowed his eyes at her, leaning down to lick a long stripe up her pussy, then down, pushing his tongue past her clenching, wet hole. 

“Dean, fucking…” she moaned, “oh, God, why does that feel good?” She snickered, then he pulled away hovering above her. She opened her eyes to his smug face, his clean fingers squeezed her cheeks roughly until she opened her mouth. She furrowed her brows, whining out with her hands around his wrist so he’d release, but she shut up when he spit in her mouth.

“Taste yourself,” he ordered, licking his lips. Her pupils dilated as she looked into his eyes, the tangy taste of herself made her mouth water and she swallowed. “D’you know how hot you are?” He asked rhetorically, kissing her roughly once more, ravenous and stopped only when he felt her hands pushing his pants down his legs.

“I want you, Dean,” she whispered against his mouth, biting his lip before returning the passion of his kiss.

“Where?” He asked teasingly, wrapping his arm around her waist, he sat her up on the table and gently held her face in his hands, before releasing her to strip completely. 

“I want you inside me,” she told him coquettishly, hopping off the table to slowly let her dress pool around her feet. “I want to ride you, to feel you stretch me open…” she walked towards him, watching him completely aroused, a look of pleasant surprise on his face, “I want you to fill me up, and make me cum on your cock…” she licked her lips, staring down at his cock, erect and leaking precum. “... I’ve never seen a dick this nice,” she told him, wrapping her hand around the base and stepping closer to him.

He grunted, “suck it then.” She laughed through her nose, releasing his cock to fondle his balls. He moaned, stumbling slightly.  “I’ve been wanting to shut you up with my cock in your mouth,” he told her, a smirk on his face, “now, I’m just thinking how pretty you’ll look with your lips wrapped around me.” Dean reached up and curled his fingers around the back of her neck. 

She looked behind him, removed her hand, and tipped her head to the chair, “sit.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, kicking the chair towards him like she had earlier, then he sat, legs wide and tempting. “You’re sexier than you were in my imagination,” he told her, watching her get down between his legs, kissing his thighs while looking up at him through her curled lashes. 

“Keep talkin’,” she grinned up at him, taking his heavy cock in her hand once more. Dean gave her a sexy look, smug and aroused.

“I wanna finish in your mouth,” he told her, “want to see you swallow my load.” Pleased, she moved forward and began kissing and licking the length of his cock, teasingly and experimentally feeling the velvety, veiny texture against her hand, tongue, and lips. “I want to hear you choke on my cock, and see what you look like with tears in your eyes as I fuck your pretty face.” She moaned softly, intrigued by the description of his fantasy. 

She dipped her tongue into the slit, moaning at the taste of his precum, drooling over the soft head of his cock before sucking him into her mouth.

“Fuck,” he moaned, tangling his fingers in her hair. She slowly took him deeper, pulling him out of her hot mouth teasingly, then swallowing inch by inch of his hard cock. “You’re so good at that, baby,” he panted, letting her take her time at her own pace, but he gripped her hair tightly. “Don’t stop,” he moaned, staring into her eyes as she continued to take his cock, bobbing her head, not stopping until he hit the back of her throat. She swallowed around him, and he bucked his hips up, releasing a whispered curse, attempting to keep his eyes open to watch her suck him off.

She got comfortable between his legs, taking his freehand to put it in her hair. He took her hair, put it together, and waited for her permission before slowly lifting his hips, pushing his cock slowly into her throat. When she gagged, he slowly pulled back, then pushed back into her, lips parted, releasing quick breaths. 

Eventually, he started to fuck her face in earnest, lifting his hip up off the chair, pulling her hair hard to guide her on and off his dick. Her spit dribbled down her chin in a mixture of his precum. She swallowed as much as she could, moaning and blinking tears that tickled her eyes and her jaw. 

“You look so fucking…” he chocked on a moan, “so damn sexy.” 

She ignored the soreness of her jaw, relaxing it as best as she could as he fucked her near mercilessly. Her pussy throbbed with every sound of his pleasure, clit aching for attention at the way he gazed down at her with burning desire, but she refused to touch herself, enjoying the build-up, the desperation for another orgasm, for his touch. 

He throbbed in her mouth, turning to mush beneath her mouth. He even began to whimper and moan her name, praises and dirty words becoming scarce in attempts to hold back his orgasm, edging himself with her mouth. It didn’t take long for him to hold her with her nose against his pelvis breathlessly. 

He pulled her off his cock, and released her hair to wipe tears tenderly from her hot cheeks with his thumbs, trying to get his mind off the near-pleasure of her mouth around his cock while catching his breath. 

“Yummy,” she rasped, pulling a breathless laugh from him. She wiped her chin with her shoulder and smiled up at him, slowly getting up on her knees to get rid of the ache of sitting on her legs.

She got up, leaning back against the table, admiring him in his red, flushed, somewhat sweaty state. His hair was a mess from her hands and he had a blush around his neck to his ears. She knew the hardness of his body accounted for the fact that he was a hunter, as well as the scars she felt beneath her soft hands, bite marks, bullet wounds, and healed slashes.

“Come closer,” she told him and he laughed, bringing himself and the chair closer, stopping when she sat on his thighs, fixing herself over his strong thighs. “Gonna cum if I tease you?” She asked, tapping the head of his cock. It twitched instantly and he moaned.

“Depends,” he replied breathily, sliding his hands up her body. She hummed softly, spreading her legs, positioning his cock near her soppy folds.

“On what?” She cackled playfully, parting her folds with one hand, circling her clit with her fingers. He watched her lustfully, the wetness that made her pussy shine coated her fingers.

“How wet and warm you feel on my cock,” he replied truthfully. He grabbed her hand and moved it out of the way anyway, taking his cock to push it between her folds, pressing the tip against her clit. 

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned softly, grasping his shoulders, “you feel… I need you,” she whimpered, rolling her hips along the length of his cock. He moaned with her, moving her hips closer to him, her wetness coating his cock.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart…” Dean moaned, watching her lean back against the table, positioning the soft head of his cock to her entrance. Completely enthralled, he watched himself slip inside her, and she watched him, biting her lip hard in concentration, the stretch of her walls around him almost painful. “Fuck… I can feel how bad you need me… I need you just as bad,” he panted, flexing his hands on her thighs, desperately trying not to thrust up into her warmth. He dug his nails into her flesh, his head tipping back, his hips rolling up.

“Dean,” she moaned again, starting to lift herself up and down his cock, reaching up to cup her breast. “Shit, you feel amazing,” she breathed out, grinding her hips against his until he was fully inside her. 

“You okay?” He asked, one of hands drifting up to knead her breast comfortingly. She nodded, buried her fingers in his hair and brought him in for a kiss as she bent her knees, and tucked her feet in between his thighs.

“I could cum like this,” she mumbled against his lips. His chuckle rumbled through his chest and he shook his head, her pussy clenched at the sound and she started to lift herself up again.

“Don’t worry,” he told her, sucking on his lip momentarily. “I’ll make you cum so hard…” He paused to moan, thrusting up into her slowly, meeting her hip. “...you’ll never want to fuck anyone else,” he promised her, building up the pace of his thrusts until she stopped moving with him altogether, letting him fuck up into her needy cunt. 

“You’ll only wanna be fucked by me,” he continued, watching her lean back with her elbow on the table, her hands roaming his warm body, “and I’ll be there, ready to fuck you hard.” He looked over her shoulder, at the jar of frosting. “Pounding into your sweet cunt,” he swore breathlessly, reaching behind her, dipping his fingers to gather frosting, “makin’ you beg, makin’ you impossibly wet.” He smeared frosting over her nipples, over her collarbone, her sternum, until he had no more while she moaned his name needily. 

“Makin’ you feel things you’ve never felt before.” He gripped her hip with frosting-coated fingers, leaning forward to lick and suck the whiskey frosting from her body. “I’ll fill you up as many times as you want,” he vowed, smoothing her hand up her back, into her hair once more, pulling until she whined his name. “I’ll fuck you wherever you want.”

Her pussy continued to gush over Dean’s cock the more he talked—his breathless, husky voice taking her over the edge. Each rough pull of her hair made her mewl and whimper as she rolled her hips desperately against his. 

“Dean, please,” she whispered, scratching down his back, digging marks into his skin the harder and faster he thrusted into her. Loud skin slapping, the wet sound of her pussy being penetrated, with every push of his cock in and out of her, squelching and driving her crazy. She dug her nails into her palm, making obscene sounds that made her self-conscious.

“I’ll fuck you all over your house, all over mine.” Another moan of his name, another rough pull of her hair. “I’ll fuck you in my car, in your car, anywhere and all over town.” He pulled away from her sticky chest, licked his lips at the sight of her, so she screwed her eyes shut. She felt a warm pool of wetness on her pelvic bone, opened her eyes to him spitting between their bodies, watching his saliva drip down her folds to her clit. 

She’d never heard of or experienced sex quite this raw and dirty.

“I’ll make you scream my name, make you forget how to talk, how to walk…” She leaned back into him, panting into his ear, keeping him close while rubbing her clit. He yanked her hair, forcing her to look at him. 

“Dean…”

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he whispered, closing his eyes, he breathed against her lips, “and I want you forever.”

As he promised, she cried out his name when she came, squeezing his cock hard, coating him in her release. He grunted her name, cursing loudly as he came inside her, his hot seed spurting into her, filling her as he said he would. 

He circled his arms around her as she writhed once more, releasing her hair as she put her arms around his neck, panting and catching her breath until the pleasure subsided.

“I want all of that,” she murmured after a few moments of silence, kissing his cheek. He squeezed her and moved back, bewildered. He moved hair from her face and tilted his head at her, drawn to her nakedness, her flushed beauty. “First, I want to shower…” Slowly, carefully, she climbed off his lap, her legs shaky, her pussy releasing the mixture of their pleasure. 

“That’s a good start,” he told her softly. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled when he stood up from the chair and looked around at the mess in the kitchen. “No one’s coming home anytime soon… thanks to Sammy…” Dean trailed off, smoothing his hand over his head to fix his hair.

“Thanks to me,” she came clean with a shy smile, bringing his gaze up to hers. His eyes twinkled and he laughed loudly, tugging her towards him again by her arm, his lips pressing against hers.

➥ sempiternal

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

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[ellemaru]

"I Like Your Bike"

Biker!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem Reader

Summary: On your way back to the hotel with friends, a shiny black motorcycle that belongs to a mysterious serviceman catches your attention.

Word Count: 1,289 Cw | Mentions of alcohol and intoxication

A/N: The character is implied to be black, but you can imagine them however you like !

Drunken laughter mingled with the sounds of other chatter on the bustling street as you walked with your 2 girlfriends and talked with each other, recapping your first day in Manchester, England, and the first out of many stops on the two-month-long trip in Europe. Your heels had become uncomfortable long ago, making you ever so grateful that you had been smart enough to think to bring a pair of flats along as you indulged in Manchester’s nightlife. The group had barhopped and chatted with strangers all night, getting the full Manchester experience as everyone explored the city and took in the views.

As the group neared their hotel, something shiny appeared in the corner of your eye, causing you to slow down your walking speed, the swinging heels in your hand slowing down as your strides did. Your brown eyes narrowed slightly as you tried to make out what the thing was, struggling due to the fact that it was night and you were nearsighted. As you tapped your friend’s shoulder and began to walk toward the unknown object, your eyes adjusted slightly, realizing it was a motorcycle, one of the nice, slick, black ones.

You mindlessly began to run your hand along the smooth and shiny exterior of the motorcycle until a voice popped you out of the trance.

“Mate, you can’t just touch random people's bikes,” 

When you looked up, you were met with a brick wall in the form of a man. He stood around 6’3 and was obviously jacked based on the way his compression shirt hugged his pectoral muscles and biceps. His bright hazel eyes practically had you hooked already, was it the alcohol, or were they that pretty? No one knows, but you did know that this guy was HOT.

“Uhhh, I um,” you giggled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before remembering that 

You are NOT Debby Ryan and you are NOT on Radio Rebel

You forgot to lay the lace down again by your ear when you installed your wig earlier

The man cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at you, the action slightly concealed by the black balaclava he wore that had a skull print on it, an interesting choice considering the heat.

“Are you not hot in that mask?”

“Did you not notice your friends aren’t here anymore?” he replied with a teasing tone. 

When you turn around, you see that your friends have indeed left you with the mysterious man and continued on to their hotel.

“Lass, I think you need some better friends,” he let out a quick chuckle, like…the personification of haha.

“Your laugh is funny,” you giggle as you lean in closer to him, looking at the metal tags that hang around his neck. 

“Simon Riley,” you read his name slowly as you looked up, tilting your head to the side slightly, wondering if it was actually his name or if he was wearing a deceased relative's dog tags. He nodded as he looked back down at the smaller woman. They sat in silence for several awkward moments before you decided to break the silence.

“I like your bike,”

“Thanks,” annnnd it was back to silence again

“You don’t talk much,”

“Not much to talk about with a random drunk lass I’ve met,”

“Fair point…What kind of bike is that?” that question was all you needed to get Simon’s attention.

That one question led to a whole conversation as he explained the ins and outs of his bike which was apparently a Yamaha R1 but other than that, he was fluent in yapping. The only thing you were focused on was his deep voice, thick British accent, and the way his compression shirt hugged all the right places on his torso. It seemed he didn’t even notice that you were looking at him with hearts in your eyes, mainly due to the fact that you had drunk way too much earlier. 

“Wanna go for a ride?” he asked you as he leaned against his bike.

The first thing that ran through your mind was “What kind of ride”.

“Huh?”

“I asked do you want to ride my motorcycle with me, like, do you want to be my backpack?” he asked again, giving his signature, stereotypical haha laugh.

“Oh uhh sure! I mean um that sounds like fun or whatever,” when you caught yourself seeming too eager, you changed up the way you phrased your sentence quickly.

When he turned around to give you a jacket and a helmet, he patted his pockets like he always does when he’s missing something before groaning from annoyance and pinching the bridge of his nose with his gloved hand.

“Well, I unfortunately don’t have an extra jacket or helmet on me right now so it seems we won’t be doing any riding today, but we could always do it another time I guess, dunno,” he mumbled the last part, “How long will you be here in Manchester?” he inquired, wondering how much time he would have before you would leave the city and the country

“I think we’re going to be here for at least another week,” you shrug as you see him frantically pull out his phone, almost dropping it once before he hands it to you, the contact screen open. Once you two exchange numbers, silence falls upon the two of you again.

“I could walk you back to your hotel if you would like, I don’t like the idea of you walking alone at night, especially as a tourist. Plus my mom would kill me if she found out I didn’t offer,” he laughs as he holds out his arm towards you.

“That would be nice,” you smile as you hook your arm in his, your brown skin contrasting with his pale one. He quickly unhooks his arm to place his leather jacket over your shoulders before linking arms again and heading on your way to the hotel. During the walk back, the two of you got to know each other, learning about interests and current status in life along with cracking jokes and just breaking the ice. It was about a 15-minute walk back to the hotel and once the two of you got back, you sighed, a little sad that your time together was already over for the day.

“We’re here. Thank you for walking me back to my hotel again, it was really sweet of you to do this because you really didn’t have to,”

“Of course, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t offer?” he snapped a flower from a nearby plant and handed it to you, “a pretty flower for the pretty lass,” he winked as you took it.

“Ugh, you Brits are such charmers, I’m quite sad to say that it worked too,” you both laughed for a few moments as he unlinked your arms.

“You free tomorrow at 19:00?”

“I’m so glad I understand military time, and yes I am,”

“Alright lass, I’ll be here in the lobby then, make sure you’re on time,” he gently takes your hand in his gloved one and kisses it through his balaclava. He gives one more wink before he turns on the heels of his combat boots and strides confidently out of the hotel. You stood there, absolutely shocked at what occurred before you realized you still had on his leather jacket. You ran outside to find him and tell him he had forgotten his jacket, but by that time, he had already disappeared into the cool Summer night. At least that meant you were guaranteed to see him tomorrow because there was no way he would just forget the nice leather jacket.

#simon riley #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley imagine #ghost x black reader #simon riley x black reader #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #cod fluff #simon riley fluff imagine #ghost fluff imagine #cod x reader fluff #biker!simon riley #simon riley au #cod au #call of duty #call of duty imagine #call of duty fluff #cod x black reader #poc #biker #military man #i live laugh love biker simon riley

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓

pairing: stripper!jack daniels x f!reader

genre: stripper AU, explicit, minors dni

word count: 4.2k

summary: frustrated by your everyday life, you seek solace at a male strip club. It's your first time and you're instantly mesmerized by the one that calls himself "Whiskey".

warnings: a mild start of a anxiety attack at the beginning, suggestive dancing, stripping, coming untouched, awkward moments, reader's first time at a strip club, unprofessional situations, mutual pining, sexual tension, use of good girl once

a/n: this idea was born whilst we were talking with @fuckyeahdindjarin about stripper!frankie and ofc since both of us are unhinged about a certain cowboy, the conversation steered naturally in the direction of stripper!jack ❤️‍🔥 I'd like to add that I've never been to a strip club and everything here (especially the dances) are born from me watching way too many male stripping tutorials and google searches, so it might not be %1000 authentic buuuuut hopefully it's fun nonetheless!

click for part two of the stripper!jack series

dividers by @firefly-graphics 💜

Your eyes are glued to the neon sign right above the bar. It flickers a bright pink, then purple, then red. In capital letters, it says: PEEP SHOW, and underneath it there’s a heart and in that, a keyhole. 

The music isn’t loud enough to leave you deaf, thankfully. You’re not sure you could’ve handled music blaring from the speakers like you were in a dance club. Make Up Sex by SoMo plays in the background, you gently sway with the rhythm refusing to look at the stage. The thumb of your right-hand traces over the knuckles of your left. You notice the bartender and tear your gaze from the sign.

He stands behind the counter, his presence radiating a magnetic charm. With a physique sculpted to perfection, he possesses an air of rugged masculinity. His hazel eyes hold a captivating depth, and his confident smile hints at a mischievous nature. As he moves with grace and confidence, he threads his fingers through his tousled chestnut hair.

“You look like you might need a drink,” he teases, his smile bright and comforting. “Anything I can help you with?” 

“Uh. . . a greyhound please?” 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he replies, taking a step back as if about to leave. But then, he pauses, leaning in close. His breath gently fans your skin, a rush of excitement flooding your veins. “And just some friendly advice, try to relax. We promise we don’t bite,” he says with a wink and goes off to prepare your drink. 

You’re frustrated. Have you truly been that obvious? Who are you kidding— of course you have. You’re alone at a male strip club staring at the neon sign rather than the stage. Of course, they can tell you’re new here. You sigh and look around. The establishment is surprisingly neat. You notice a bachelorette party taking place not that far away from you, they seem to be having fun, screaming as a stripper sways his hips from side to side. He looks good. Chiseled abs, shiny chest, the whole thing shebang. 

Your heart sinks into your chest. You hate being alone and you’re so incredibly tired of it. Everyone you know is either busy or doesn’t care enough to spare you even an hour. It’s been two years since your last relationship and you swear the lack of company is eating you alive. It would be fine if you had a couple of distractions, like going out with friends maybe, but that proved to be an impossible ask. You’re not even sure why you’re so bothered. You do a lot of things alone. You enjoy your own company. Yet, for some reason seeing everyone together, having fun is more difficult today compared to other days. Your chest collapses on itself, your pulse quick under your skin. 

Suddenly it's very hard to breathe. 

You take short, sharp breaths, filling your lungs with the scent of musk and strawberries. 

Your chest continues to heave—Shit, are you about to have a panic attack in a freaking strip club? Now that will surely be in your top five most embarrassing moments. Nothing even happened, why are you feeling like this?

“You a’right there darlin’?” 

A voice smooth as honey reaches your ears. It curls around your body and keeps you still. Goosebumps flare across your skin, the small hairs that are scattered over the back of your neck standing with attention. Slowly, you turn. 

It’s one of the strippers, at least you assume it’s one of the strippers. He’s wearing a cowboy hat, a leather jacket, and some low-hanging jeans. He’s wearing a white mesh top underneath. You find yourself unabashedly gawking at him. You’re not sure how long you stare but you’re hoping it only lasted for a second. And if you’re really lucky, he wouldn’t have even noticed. 

In contrast to the other strippers you’ve seen so far, he appears slightly older with a softened stomach, yet possesses a lean physique sculpted by years of dance.

You swallow thickly, forcing your gaze back up. He’s clean-shaven except for a dark mustache, he’s smiling but you see a hint of worry in his gaze. Narrowing your eyes, you notice a small gold sticker in the shape of a star under his right eye. 

“I’m. . .” you swallow again and shake your head. You’re dumbfounded. “I’m okay, thanks.” 

The bartender places the greyhound you ordered, at the same time the stripper extends a hand, “Whiskey,” he says in a sultry way. You squeeze his hand and raise your eyebrows, your shake is a bit weak. 

“Whiskey?” you ask. He lets go of your hand and you bring it to your forehead, nervous laughter escaping you. “Oh, it’s your stage name. Of course.” 

His crooked smile is intoxicating, the tip of his tongue moves over his teeth. “My parents would have to hate me to name me ‘whiskey’ sugar,” he answers, rubbing his chin. A moment of silence follows as he thinks, ”Well, my real name ain’t any less embarrassing now that I think about it.” 

You want to ask him his real name but end up biting your tongue instead. You can’t ask him that, it would be rude, and even if you did you doubt that he’ll tell you. Pressing your lips tightly together, you drop your gaze to your drink. You curl your fingers around it. The sudden cold against your skin calming you. 

“First time?” he asks and you nod. “May I ask why you’re here then, so I can be of service?” 

That’s a good question. Why are you here? 

“I think to have some fun,” you mutter as you drag your thumb over the cool condensation. “I’m just. . .” you shake your head. “Nevermind, that’s stupid. Let’s just say I’m here to have some fun.” 

Whiskey observes you for a moment. His chocolate gaze taking in every detail of your expression. Are all strippers this attentive? you think, heat crawling up your spine. His hand slowly slides over the smooth bar until his fingers are gently resting above your wrist. You suck in a breath. His thumb moves over to the inside of your wrist, tracing the vein that pulses violently. 

“How about a private dance?” he asks slowly, as if you might bolt out the doors at any given second. “I promise to entertain you thoroughly, sugar.” 

You blink, “Really?” you ask instantly feeling foolish at the question. It’s a service he provides, that you will be paying for, of course he means it. Nonetheless, he seems amused by the question. He grins proudly, crowding your personal space. He tilts his head. Your fingers twitch around the glass and your eyes drop to his lips. 

Man, he’s dreamy. You’re starting to understand the appeal of these establishments. 

“Really,” he parrots back at you. “Follow me, darlin’.” 

With shaky legs, you do. 

The private room is a sanctuary tucked away from prying eyes. 

Your eyes follow the sumptuous drapes of deep velvet cascading from floor to ceiling. In the center of the room stands a circular stage much smaller compared to the one outside, its surface gleaming. Positioned in the middle of it, a solitary chair, adorned in lavish leather, and next to it a small table with a small remote on top. Whiskey closes the door as you enter and walks with confident steps. You stand awkwardly until he gestures towards the sole seat with his head. 

“Take a seat, sweetheart. Get comfortable.” 

“O–Okay.” 

You’re not aware of how close he is until you take a seat, he immediately follows, dipping low. He curls two thick fingers under your chin and tilts your head up, his gaze searching. 

“Tell me if anythin’ starts becomin’ too much, understood?” 

“Understood,” you squeak, cheeks growing warm. Without any hesitation, he starts the music. Acquainted by the Weeknd starts playing softly through the speakers. There’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. The way he walks now is different from the way he walked when guiding you here. He saunters over to you, his shoulders rounding as he starts feeling the music moving through him. 

He stands in front of you, movements fluid and confident. You’re mesmerized by him.  He stalks even closer to you, and you feel the electric heat radiating off of his body. He slides his hands down your arms and you can't help but let out a little gasp. 

Whiskey continues to study your expression, He moves with grace and purpose, his body sliding and swaying sensually to the music. His hips rock back and forth in time, seemingly choreographed flawlessly. His hands glide down his body, tracing the contours of his definition before slipping up his torso. His movements are punctuated by smoldering gazes and slow, deliberate breaths. He rolls his shoulders, his leather jacket sliding to his elbows and falling to the floor a beat later. Your mouth waters. 

Suddenly, he turns and bends his knees, straddling your thighs. Your gaze drops, turning into saucers as you take in the sight of his tiny little ass. You exhale a sharp breath from your nose, nostrils flaring. He draws circles with his hips, nearly brushing against you but not quite, he gently holds your wrists, placing them in his inner thighs. His touch is feather-like and with two fingers, allowing you the chance to break free if needed. Your skin feels taut over your muscles, sweat building at your tailbone—he’s so close. You don’t even remember the last time you were this close to a man. It’s dizzying. 

Whiskey slowly extends his legs and slides your hands up, your fingers skim the apex of his thighs until he’s standing. 

Arousal builds between your legs, your lips a tight, thin line. 

Your hands are on his crotch. 

Oh god, you think you might actually faint. Wouldn’t that be fucking hilarious? 

Fuck he feels warm under your palms—

Scratch that, he feels big. 

He drops down as he rolls his hips, his body slides under your hands like a snake and your fingers move up his chest with the movement, feeling the mesh fabric and the firm chest underneath. Very inappropriately, your nails bite into his skin. If your eyes weren’t glued to this gorgeous man’s back, you would’ve missed the moment his hips stuttered, the smallest grunt echoing from the back of his throat. 

“Sorry,” you squeak, fingers twitching.  

“Don’t worry about it darlin’, just enjoy the show.” 

He stands back up again, guiding your hands down to his hips as he squats low. Before you know it, your hands are resting on his pelvis once more, feeling the underlying heaviness. He grinds forward, hefty bulge filling your palms. 

The music fades to the background. His steps in slow motion, he turns and straddles you normally, knees dipping as he raises his arms and grinds his hips towards you. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s so close. With his every move, you can smell the leather coming off of him, it takes you everything not to close your eyes and just inhale his scent. He steers your hands towards his ass, placing them against the firm mounds. 

You know that this is a strip show. You know that you’ll be paying him afterward—and tipping him generously. 

But, fuck, the way he’s looking at you shouldn’t be allowed. Something dark swirling in them, something ravenous. His smile is knowing, teasing, like he can read your mind and it’s unnerving. How does anyone leave this strip club not being a mess for this man? 

His fingers delicately trace the column of your neck, moving over to your shoulder and coming back. He’s observing you, eyes fixed on you as he searches for any kind of discomfort. Then he gradually wraps his hand around your neck. There’s no pressure and it feels slightly ticklish. 

He moves closer in tune with the music, his lips brush against your neck, your nipples tightening at the touch. He takes your hands and guides them up his chest and broad shoulders. His lips are barely touching yours and you can feel his softly blowing breath. He thrusts his hips, clothed cock nearly touching your chest, suddenly you’re holding your breath wishing nothing more than his touch. His ass flexes under your hand, firm and warm. 

Till this point, you were trying really hard to ignore how wet you’ve gotten. Subtly, you’re moving your hips, trying to add pressure to your throbbing clit. The wet fabric of your underwear grazes against the bundle of nerves, dipping between your wet folds. Your chest heaves and you swallow down a whimper. It’s been so fucking long since you’ve felt anything like this. Tension curls around your thighs and moves up to your stomach, arousal heavy between your legs. He must be used to this right? You can’t be the only one to get this worked up. 

Even if Whiskey does notice your weak attempts at relief, he doesn’t say anything. 

All your senses narrow on him as he kneels in front of you, the music dropping with him. With a wink, he takes your hands and guides them down his chest while leaning back to sit on his heels. Your hands slide down his torso, once again just shy in touching his length. With a body roll, he comes back up and grips the armrests of your chair, popping up into a bridge position. Your thighs are spread and he drops his head low, you swear you feel his breath on you before he slithers up again, lips nearly brushing the valley of your breasts. His face is an inch away from yours, only charm. He tilts his head, coming in closer as if he’s about to kiss you, then moves away again. 

You’re mortified when you find yourself instinctively chasing after his lips. 

He hums, the sound barely audible over the music, his smile never fades, “Good girl,” he mutters as his hands slide down to gently grip the back of your thighs. 

You’ve never been more aware of not touching someone in your life.

Whiskey pushes himself closer and lifts your legs. Despite the clothes that separate the two of you, you feel the sinewy fabric of muscle hidden underneath as your legs frame his narrow hips. He presses closer, positioning his length against you. You feel it. His cock throbbing and aching under those tight, tight pants. Your throat moves, the muscles in your jaw clenched. He grazes one hand up and up and up until the width of it rests over your hip. 

He continues his grinding, his jeans rubbing tantalizingly against your inner thighs. You feel his hardness through the thin fabric separating you; all you can think is how good it feels to have him there. His hands rub lazily across your hips, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Whiskey's hands snake up your sides, his fingers weaving through the flesh of your waist. His pelvis moves rhythmically against yours, each thrust accompanied by a low moan that you’re desperately trying to bite down. 

“You seem tense darlin’,” his breath is hot and heavy in your ear as he gently nibbles the sensitive lobe, tantalizing you further. “Could see it in your eyes as soon as I spotted you alone at the bar. Let go, sweetheart. It’ll be our little secret,” His hips sway in and out, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. You feel your breath catch and become labored, is—is he actually suggesting what you think he’s suggesting? 

God, you just don’t have it in you to care anymore. You’re too worked up, every touch feels doubled with the way he moves, smiles, and looks at you.

You can’t help but relax into his motions. He moves slower, teasing you as he coaxes your inevitable fall. He builds you up, and normally, you would bask in the relief that he would tear you apart soon enough—but the thing is. . . you two aren’t actually having sex. There’s a very high chance the build-up would last forever, that is, until the time was up. You’re being edged in the best way possible but you fear you might have a hearty breakdown if you can’t, as how he put it; “let go”. 

He must’ve sensed your worries because for the first time, his smile falters, brows furrowing with concentration. His eyes flit over yours briefly before cupping your chin and raising your head. You expect him to say something, anything—maybe call you his good girl again—but nothing escapes those lush lips. Your eyes drop to the divot of his bottom lip and he leans closer, cock fully moving over your puffy clit. Your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek. Your stomach bottoms out, there’s a faint buzzing in your ears as the pressure in you grows and grows until you feel it in the back of your eyes. 

Fuck—Are you about to come? 

Nonononononono—

Your body spasms in pleasure, an orgasm building from deep within you as the music and his body surround you. He smells of pine and leather and the scent assaults your lungs. Your insides begin to clench and your muscles carry on a delirious dance of its own as warmth starts to spread in waves throughout your body. Your toes curl and every nerve ending in your body is brought alive. You squeeze your eyes shut,  your breath quickens. You swallow down all the noises that threaten to spill out. All you can think of is how embarrassing this is, your cheeks are left burning, your orgasm washing over you in large waves against your better judgment. 

Whiskey barely slows, still rolling his hips with the guide of the slowing song. He does pull back eventually and you’re grateful for it. The inside of your mouth is dry, your eyes watered, the inside of your panties soaked. 

“S-Shit,” you whisper. “I’m . . . I’m—” 

He lets out a content sigh, if anything, he seems delighted by the whole ordeal. 

“Like I said darlin’,” he rasps, breath ghosting your lips. “This will be our little secret.” 

The music ends and you know your time is up. 

Hanging out at a strip club isn’t actually as mortifying as you thought it would be. 

After your first encounter with Whiskey, you thought you would never step into the glitter and glam of the club ever again. However, after a particularly tough day, you found yourself at the door once more. The bartender, who later introduced himself as Tequila, greeted you enthusiastically, and from that point on, you became a regular.

Despite being a regular, names were still off-limits, and you didn't mind. Everyone was entitled to their privacy, and it made it all the more special for the time when Whiskey might eventually reveal his real name, if that day ever came. You're still not sure where you stand exactly on the spectrum between being a customer and a friend.

You could never afford another private dance though, at least not if you wanted to have enough money for food this month. Nevertheless, you were content with just watching the performances, and seeing Whiskey entertain endless bachelorette and bachelor parties was always a delight.

And hey, surprisingly, Tequila made some killer iced coffees, which you greatly appreciated since you weren't the biggest drinker and a bit of a lightweight. The last thing you wanted was to get drunk with Whiskey around, as you had already embarrassed yourself enough. However, he was a man of his word. He never mentioned the incident that took place during his performance. In fact, he behaved as if it never happened. For a minute there, you even thought that maybe you had imagined the whole thing.

However, there were moments when he would simply give you a certain look, and in that instant, you knew for certain that he did remember.

“Here you go gorgeous,” Tequila says, pulling you from your thought as he places an iced coffee in front of you. 

Your eyes widen as you see whipped cream with a lavish cherry on top. 'Is there a special occasion I'm not aware of?'

He shrugs, “I was bored, it’s a slow night.” 

Thanking him, you turn in your seat. It was a slow night, with only a handful of people present. There was a couple seeking a good time and a couple of corporate-looking ladies. Whiskey was entertaining one of them, employing his Southern charm as he winked at the woman and tipped his hat. Over the passing days, you had come to recognize his dance choreography. It seemed he genuinely enjoyed what he was doing, which made you happy in return.

Sometimes you do wish you had met the man outside of these walls though. You can’t fight the longing you feel whenever you see him. Other than being ridiculously attractive —and knowing how to make a woman come without touching them— he was kind to you that day. He saw how miserable you were and tried to cheer you up. Sure, you were a customer, but still, he didn’t have to go the extra mile. 

You often thought about meeting him at a supermarket or something instead. Would he be as kind? Would he be as attentive? Maybe he wouldn’t even give you a second glance as he buys a box of cereal—you frown, when you think about it like that, maybe meeting him in a strip club wasn’t that bad after all.  

Whiskey's dance comes to an end and you have to fight every fiber of your being not to eat him with your eyes like a hungry, horny, wolf. You try to look disinterested, eyes moving to one of the other dancers. It’s too late though, his gaze catches your own. He smiles as he struts towards you. 

“How are you sweetheart?” he asks, pink tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “Is Tequila here treatin’ you well?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” You grin, gesturing to the whipped cream and cherry on top, as if it's obvious. His eyes drop to the fruit, glistening and wet. Without waiting for you to say anything, he picks up the fruit by the stem and sticks his tongue out. He catches the cherry with his lips, slowly drawing it into his mouth, and you watch, transfixed, as he chews. His jaw works over the cherry, then, a moment later, he shows you his tongue once more. 

On the tip of it, lays a neatly knotted stem. 

“Holy hell,” you whisper. “I should be mad because I was looking forward to that cherry but I’m too impressed.” 

With two fingers Whiskey calls for Tequila, “Get the pretty lady another cherry,” he says. 

“Show off,” the other man mutters but complies anyway. A quick moment later, there’s another cherry on a bed of white. 

You eye him warily, “You’re not gonna eat this one too, are you?” 

He laughs, “No darlin’. Don’t worry, enjoy your overly sweetened fruit.” 

Still not trusting him, holding it by the stem, you stick the cherry between your lips and quickly chew. He draws his brows together, “No show?” 

“If I was that talented with my tongue I wouldn’t be single.” 

“There’s more to relationships than a good tongue,” he answers. “I would know.” 

He’s single? 

You don’t know why the revelation shocks you, but it does. You didn’t want to assume anything based on his career choice and by personality alone, you didn’t really think he would be in the same boat as you. 

“You can act a little less surprised you know,” he teases, leaning against the bar with a curled lip. 

“S-Sorry, I just never thought you would be single you’re just so. . .” cutting yourself off, you press your lips together. He leans closer, teasing smile now shifting into a full toothy grin. 

“So. . . what?” he asks. His finger dips into the whipped cream, and he brings it to his lips, his deep gaze never leaving yours as he sucks it off slowly. “Dazzling, charming, talented?” 

Your throat goes dry and you have to swallow, “Well yes, all of those and. . . handsome.” 

“Compliments don’t get you a free dance, sweetheart,” he winks. “Just sayin’.” 

Your lips quiver, a hesitant smile curving your lips. Your cheeks warm under his gaze. 

Talking to him comes easy to you. You also enjoy his confidence, he knows he’s good looking and he doesn’t shame you for stating it, or make you feel less of a person for admitting. It’s freeing. Maybe that’s why you’re always visiting the club. He grants you a place to just be yourself, even if he does so intentionally or not, you appreciate it. 

“You, giving out a free dance?” you exaggerate every word, you mirror his movement and stick two fingers in the whipped cream. You bring them to your lips, savoring the sweetness. It’s subtle, but you catch the way his breath hitches. Your smile grows. “I never would expect such a thing.” 

“Good,” his voice drops dangerously low, almost sounding like a growl. Inching closer, his breath fans the side of your neck and you feel the rough scrape of his mustache against the shell of your ear. A whimper rattles your throat. “I would hate to be misunderstood.” 

He pulls back with a wink, he flashes you his canines, and drags his tongue over them. “See you around, sunshine,” he says, voice returning to normal. The words die in your throat as he disappears towards the back, presumably to get ready for his next show. 

You’re left staring, mouth agape. Flustered, you stir your iced coffee to feel the soothing sound of ice clanking around. 

You frown when you realize all the ice had melted.

Thank you for reading everyone! This one definitely tuckered me out but I think it ended up not being that bad?

Normally this was always going to be a two-parter but then the first part ended up being way longer than I intended (almost 8k) so I decided to split it into two chapters since didn't want it to be too long. Therefore, this little series will be three parts in total. I've written most of chapter two since it was meant to be a part of chapter one so it'll be out relatively quick!

That's it for now, sending everyone love and many hugs 💜

#jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x female!reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey fanfiction #kingsman the golden circle #kingsman fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters

[midnightsnyx]

what if i told you (i love you) part 1 - joel miller

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: five years ago, pregnant and alone, you left boston after a fallout with joel but when he shows up in jackson, you have to deal with the aftermath. word count: 1.4k warnings: angst (loads), mentions of pregnancy, non-specified age gap, (please let me know if i missed something!) a/n: this is my first time writing joel so pls go gentle on me lol I am planning on making this a series if u guys like it! let me know :) i know joel is usually pegged as a girl dad which i love but i thought it would be fun to write a mini joel! this isn't edited so i apologize for all mistakes. also i am taking requests now so ask away! masterlist ask box what i write taglist signup

You hadn’t anticipated seeing him. When you left the Boston QZ five years ago after finding out you were pregnant, you never wanted to see Joel Miller’s face again. Not after you broke the news and he told you to get out - that he wanted you gone. Tess had told you to give him a few days to cool down and let the news sink in, so you did. You waited a couple days, which turned into a week and another and once a month passed, you realized you couldn’t wait around for Joel to get his head out of his ass so you packed up and left Boston. You had heard rumors of settlements out West and took the chance of going to one. It was a risky move, especially being pregnant, but raising a child in the QZ was impossible. Bringing a life into this world alone was cruel but if you could make it to one of the settlements, you thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And you did. After months of traveling and close calls, you made it to Jackson. You couldn’t believe how close to normal it was there. It felt like before the outbreak which felt impossible but somehow they did it. You made friends and had support when you finally delivered. 

Little Jack came into the world with the helping hands of Maria and your friend Avery. You named him after Jackson, the little community that welcomed you with open arms. He was absolutely perfect and as he grew, he looked more and more like Joel. It hurt you that Joel wasn’t here to see his son grow but he had made his decision the day he told you to leave. 

The life you built in Jackson was good enough. You taught at the small school in the morning and spent the rest of your day with Jack and your friends. Every so often you went on patrol but with Jack, you had to find someone to watch him. Avery offered to keep him for the afternoon while you went out with Maria and some others for a quick patrol. Someone thought they heard gunshots going off and your group was sent to check it out. You thought you would come across some raiders or maybe a couple stragglers but what you weren’t expecting was to find Joel Miller and some random kid. It didn’t surprise you that he was looking for Tommy and you watched for Maria’s reaction when he told her his name. 

In Jackson, Joel’s name wasn’t a popular one to those who heard it. Tommy had recounted the days that he, Joel, Tess and others had spent that still gave him nightmares and you didn’t have many good things that you shared about him. You kept the good things to yourself and only let yourself think about them on nights you were particularly lonely or sad. She hid her reaction better than you would have but you were a little surprised when she invited them back to town. As soon as you got back, you went straight to the stables to drop off your house before going to pick up Jack from Avery’s. You wanted to just go home but he fought you tooth and nail to go to the dining hall to see Hazel, an older woman in Jackson who was the first person to take you in when you first arrived. She treated you like a daughter and in turn, treated Jack as a grandson. 

When you got there, Hazel was delighted to see him and you couldn’t help but smile when Jack squealed and ran straight for her. Watching them, you felt a set of eyes on you and when you looked, they met Joel’s. As usual, his expression was impossible to read. He was sitting with the girl, Ellie you’d briefly heard, along with Tommy and Maria. 

“Some new folks, huh?” Hazel asked, breaking you out of your daze. She knew the story about Joel so you were hesitant to tell her who they were but she would find out eventually.

“Yeah, Tommy’s older brother and the girl is Ellie,” you told her, “apparently they traveled all the way from Boston.” 

You watched as the realiztion slowly dawned on her face, hiding an amused smile when she said, “where’s my shotgun?” 

“It’s fine,” you tried to reassure her, “I don’t think they’re staying.” 

She huffed, “I should’ve poisened that food.”

You shook you head, taking Jack when he reached out to you. He was getting sleepy, resting his head on your shoulder and babbling nonsense. You could still feel Joel’s gaze, so you told Hazel you would see her tomorrow and started walking out when you heard your name called.

Tommy. 

You weren’t sure what his plan was, he knew your past with Joel so you took your time walking over to where the four individuals were seated. Maria was giving Tommy a dark look and you knew she didn’t agree with his interfering. 

“Hey,” you said lightly, trying to ignore Joel’s eyes that were now focused on Jack. Ellie was looking between you and Joel and you could almost see the wheels turning in her brain. 

“I was wondering if you had time to take Ellie to the house next to yours and let her have a shower? Maybe find some new clothes?” Tommy asked and held his hand up when Joel started to argue. 

“Sure,” you said, motioning for her to follow you. She gave Joel one look before following you out the door. It was cold and you hugged Jack, who was now asleep, tighter to you. She was silent until you were a couple minutes away from the house, whistling. 

“So, I take it you and Joel know each other?” She questioned, walking faster to keep up with you. You wanted to drop this kid off before she accidentally got answers out of you. She continued pestering you after you just shrugged and you wondered how Joel, of all people, managed to make it from Boston with the girl. She seemed sweet enough but lord, she was chatty. 

“What’s his name?” She asked, pointing to the sleeping boy in your arms as if there was another child around.

“Jack,” you told her and she smiled.

“Like, Jackson?” 

“Nice catch,” you praised and she grinned. 

You showed her to the shower, before searching for some clean clothes. It took a few trades but you managed to get her some fresh clothes and a new jacket. When you returned to the house, you ran into the one person you were hoping to avoid. He froze when you walked in the front door, clothing in hand and Jack still on your hip. Your back was aching from carrying him but he was unusually clingy. His eyes locked on Joel, head tilting slightly before reaching out for the older man, surprising the two of you. Joel stood frozen even as Jack reached for him, whining slightly. 

It was Ellie who broke the awkward silence, walking down the stairs in the fluffy robe you left for her. “You gonna take the kid, or what? He’s not contagious.” 

You were hesitant to let Jack go but after he let out an angry wail, you put him down and watched as he walked over to Joel and reached for him, making a grabby motion with his tiny fists, the universal pick me up signal from a child. The man awkwardly picked him up and you immediately saw the similarities between the two. You always thought he looked like Joel but looking at the two of them together, a paternity test wouldn’t be needed.

“Woah,” Ellie said, taking Jack’s hand when he reached towards her, “he looks just like you.” 

You ignored the insinuating tone in her words, opting to watch the interaction between the two boys. Joel’s sole attention was now on the toddler in his arms. His whole body softened when Jack rested his head on his chest and you suddenly felt a rush of emotions. Shoving the clothes in Ellie’s arms, you took Jack from Joel and fled out the door, ignoing both voices calling out to you. You didn’t stop running until you were in your own house and rushed to put Jack to bed before going to your own room. Not bothering to change, you crawled under the covers and tried to hold back the sobs threatening to escape you. 

You had spent the last five years trying to get over the heartbreak Joel Miller caused you and suddenly the man himself showed up and brought back evey single feeling you had for him.

And you hated him for it.

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller reader insert #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagine #allies writing #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction

[redbleedingrose]

The Last Time ~ Azriel x Reader

A/N: LOL!! Azriel fics have long been requested and I finally decided to stop ignoring y’all. I hope that you enjoy! As always, please leave a like, comment and reblog, they mean so much to me (like more than you could know and keeps me motivated to keep putting stuff out)! 

Warnings: Uhhh Porn. Some plot but mainly porn. Like 1.4k words of porn. So 18+ NSFW! 

The scarred digits that lace around your neck squeeze tighter, stealing away the gasp of pleasure that was already slipping from between your swollen lips, his husky whisper drifting into my ear like a honeyed song, “say my name Angel, let me hear it.”  A wave of humiliation floods your already flushed and sweating face, slipping down to your pulsing core as you shake your head in denial with pursed lips, your nails digging into the forearm of the shadowsinger that is forcing you to bounce up and down his cock. A smirk lilts his dark beautiful face, his pupils completely blown, rimmed with his hazel iris’ as he watches you through half lidded eyes rock your hips back and forth fervently, the sensation of his length grinding into your gummy walls has your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. 

You grit your teeth, clenching at your jaw, trying to hold back any moans or whines from escaping. You had given him the upper hand with the gasp, but you weren’t going to let him get anything else out of you. The spymaster’s shadows swirl around your meshed bodies, slithering around your waist, down your belly and down to your throbbing clit, hazily circling around it leaving their ice cold sensation against burning hot skin. His head tosses back into the headboard with a resounding thump, biting down on his plumped and reddening lips to keep a groan from erupting, planting his feet into the mattress, jack knifing into you, meeting each of your downward thrusts with his own in a torrid effort to get you to cum first. 

All of your sensations fade, honing into how the shadowsinger is making you feel in that moment. His tattooed, carved chest heaves under you with heavy breathes, enticing you to lean forward and leave a long hot lick along the path of his sternum that results in a hard buck into you, forcing the head of his cock right into your cervix. Hot, fast butterflies flutter in your stomach down to your core, coalescing into a tightening knot with each passing thrust. Your hips grind down onto his, the knot in you growing tighter, and tighter, and tighter with every millisecond. Claw marks are left on the Illyrian warrior's forearm when you pull away to clutch at his shoulders, trying to stabilize yourself before you completely fall apart. But maybe that's what he wants. Maybe he wants you to fall apart. 

Maybe he wants to destroy you. 

You wouldn’t be surprised. And you would be damned if you weren’t going to bring him down with you. This little unofficial arrangement between you and the shadowsinger had started months ago when Eris, your ‘boss’ as you called him, had assigned you to work with the Night Court to gather any information on the alliance that tied Hybern and Beron in hopes of overthrowing the current leadership of Autumn Court. This meant working hand in hand with their Spymaster, Azriel, whom you hated with every drop in your high fae blood. You couldn’t stand the way he looked at you, the way he eyed you with utter distrust, as if you had done something horrible to him like kicking his innocent puppy.  

Hours and hours spent arguing over conflicting recounts of the partnership between the High lord of Autumn and Hybern, hours and hours spent retrieving documents from one another in private inns and hostels, hours and hours of screaming harsh insults at one another had devolved into this. It had devolved into roughly fucking one another, putting all your pent up disgust and hatred into one single means to an end: a devastating orgasm. Every time, every session you had, you or he would mutter the words, “this is the last time. It won’t happen again.” And each time, you both wholeheartedly believed it. But one way or another, you or he would fall back into the pit of lust, fall back into the utter loss of control that happened with each other. But, you would never let him get the upper hand over you. So you refused to make any sounds that would indicate the slightest hint of pleasure. You refused to say his name, even in your thoughts. 

And to hell with the Cauldron, did he try to break you. 

Your nails scrape down his chest leaving irritated marks that compels the side of your eye to twitch in a glint of pride, grinning at the shadowsinger with a sense of victory that when he will leave tonight, he will return to the Night court marked with his sins. The knot feels impossibly tight, nearly ready to fracture against the tension when the male leans forward, hand releasing its hold on your neck, sliding up to your jaw and yanking you forward by your face so that his breath brushes against your lips in peppery kisses, his fingers digging into the hollow of your cheeks forcing your mouth to open. Your eyes flicker back and forth between his, confusion racking your fogged mind, the uncomfortable sensation of your jaw being forced open has your bracing forward on your knees while his other hand thumbs your clit in hard presses and strokes. 

The knot within you shatters into a billion pieces when he lifts his mouth towards you, spitting into your gaping mouth before forcing it shut, biting down harshly onto your bottom lip, drawing droplets of blood that he licks away when he grates out, “swallow Angel.” His ink hair falls forward, draping over his eyes that watch your throat bob as you take in his spit before they squeeze shut with burnt pleasure, hot ropes of his cum shooting deep inside your pulsating cunt, absolutely flooding your hole so that a ring of your mixed cream gathers at the base of his cock. You can’t help falling forward into the crook of his neck in utter euphoria, biting down on the litters of scars and black tattoos that cover the broadness of his shoulders and biceps, down to his back, chest, and even his abdomen, trying to fight down any sound other than broken gasps. You wouldn’t ever allow him to know just how good he made you feel, just how much you craved these visits, just how many countless times you had fingered your aching cunt to the thought of him, whispering his name when you fell apart. You would never allow him to know. 

Never.

And he would never let you know the utter loss of control he felt around you. 

So, when you finally catch your breath, you flex your shaking thighs that hover over his lap, latching onto the wooden headboard to lift yourself off of him and roll out of the bed. He sits up in his place, his scarred fingers tracing the mark that you had left behind, lazily watching as you calmly pace through the room of the hostel hidden deep in the Winter mountains, his shadows following you, swirling around your ankles and shins as you search for your clothes that had been strewn about when the arguing with him had decayed into the hard fucking. You couldn’t help avoiding his stunning, hate-filled hazel eyes at all costs, knowing that one look would send you crawling back into bed so that he could climb on top of you and rut into you without any resolve once more. 

A horrid sense of fury ran through you for giving into the shadowsinger, along with a strike of pride when you discovered that tonight had meant he had given into you as well. Flinging your cloak over your shoulders as you toe on your goat leather boots, you slowly turn towards the doorway, sending a small glance in his direction. He hadn’t moved a single inch besides an arched eyebrow that was directed at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips, waiting for the words he would inevitably be hit with. With the sharpest of ice clinging to every word, you mutter loud enough so that he can hear from across the room, “This is the last time shadowsinger. It won’t happen again. Ever.” You reach over to snatch the folder of classified documents resting on the side table that were meant to be taken to Eris from Rhysand, letting the door slide open. You don’t turn back as you head down the stairs, rolling your eyes with a huff when you hear an arrogant, sarcasm laced tone call out from behind, “Sure it won’t, Angel.”

Part 2??? Maybe??? One day???

Masterlist

General taglist : @nyotamalfoy  @brekkershadowsinger @kennedy-brooke @fieldofdaisiies

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfic #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel spymaster x reader #azriel #azriel acotar fanfic

[toasttt11]

never grow up; lando norris, jack hughes

summary: memories of estella leclerc

estelle leclerc x lando norris, estelle leclerc x jack hughes

tag list: @chelawrites @faithm120601

estelle soleil leclerc the only leclerc sister, the older twin sister of arthur leclerc, a formula one driver for red bull racing, being the youngest world champion and only female to win a f1 race as well as a championship, an ambassador for nike and louis vuitton, the youngest face ever on a vogue front cover and to date the most vogue covers belong to her.

name: estelle soleil leclerc

birthday: october 13, 2000

age: 22

height: 5”6

racing career:

karting 2008-2014

ferrari driver academy 2013-2018

formula four- 2015-2016

formula three- 2017

formula two- 2018

formula one-2019

red bull racing- 2019-2023

championship win 2019, 2021

vogue partnership started 2009

sponsors-nike, lululemon, apple, louis vuitton

siblings- lorenzo tolotta-leclerc, charles leclerc, arthur leclerc

godfather- jules bianchi

love interests- lando norris, jack hughes

May 22, 2008

Estelle walked around with her sage green helmet in hand and her overalls on seeing all the other kids around her age and seeing no girls just boys, it started a fire in her to prove everyone wrong and show girls can kart too, she lost her younger twin brother who was with their parents.

All of sudden a boy with brown hair tripped in front of her and another boy running behind him with black curls on his head, the boy who fell lifted his head seeing a girl with perfect chestnut brown curls and sparkling hazel green eyes, she raised a brow with a hint of a smile gracing her face as she reached down a hand for the boy, he grabbed scrambling up, “T-thanks i’m Lando.” He grinned with all his teeth, a gap between his front two teeth, he pointed towards his best friend Max, “And this is Max.” Max waved with a smile.

“I’m Estelle.” She smiled her french accent coming out before the boys could reply they heard a voice shout and a boy come running towards them.

“Essie!” Arthur shouted running over to his twin taking her hand and starting to pull her back to their parents, she turned around waving bye at the two, not knowing in the future they would become best friends.

“Who were they?” Arthur questioned in french.

“Their names are Lando and Max.” She responded back in french, before they got to their parents and older brothers.

“Oh there you are darling we were looking for you.” Pascale grinned seeing her twins, looking happier knowing her daughter was fine but she usually tends to wonder off.

“Je suis désolé Maman.” Estelle apologized knowing her mother is protective of her, Her mother dismissed her apology with a fond smile.

Estelle was suddenly picked off from behind and tossed over someone shoulder who was spinning her around, she giggled knowing exactly who it was, “Pear stop it!” She giggled as she got gently set down looking up seeing Pierre Gasly, her brothers best friend and a family friend, basically her fourth brother.

“Sorry petite étoile.” Pierre cheekily grinned calling her little star, as he has since she was born.

“No you’re not.” Estelle sassed back cocking an eyebrow and a hand on her hip.

“Someone’s sassy today.” Chalres fond voice came by her ear as he leaned kissing her cheek twice.

“Hi cha.” She smiled sweetly kissing his cheek back.

“You excited for your first race.” Charles looked between his little twin siblings, getting two identical nods in return, “Good you’re both going to do great!” He kisses both their heads.

“Duh! We’re Leclerc’s!” Estelle sassed with a smile, as Arthur nodded along with her, Charles fondly laughed, Pierre smiled down at the twins. Herve and Pascale shared a fond look glad their family is so close with each other.

January 4, 2010

Estelle walked into her house her foot shutting the door behind her as she held the handful of mail she got from the mail box for her parents, she knew her family were waiting for her so they could eat lunch together, she walked towards the kitchen entering it when she saw the magazine, she squealed jumping up and down as the other mail dropped on the ground, her whole family looked up seeing her squealing jumping, as her perfect chestnut brown curls bounced with her around her pink headband on her head.

“What is it darling?” Pascale looked up from the kitchen island, Herve looked up from his newspaper as well.

“Maman Papa it came.” She grinned her beautiful bright smile turning the magazine towards them, revealing her face on the cover of vogue becoming the youngest ever to do so.

“Oh petit soleil that’s wonderful.” Herve grinned proudly of his daughter who is already accomplishing so much and he couldn’t wait to see her continue to do so, he wrapped his arm around her pressing kisses on her head.

“Mon cheri!” Pascale gasped looking at the cover as her filled with fresh wet tears, she scooped her only daughter in her arms rocking them back and forth, “I am so proud of you my darling.”

Estelle giggled happily just as Chalres stood up and picked her up spinning her around making her giggles fill the room.

“That’s so cool petite soeur!” Charles grinned setting his favorite sibling down gently.

“Merci Cha!” She grinned up at him, before getting pushed back as Arthur tackled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around his twin tightly, “Congrats mon jumeau!” She giggled kissing his cheek.

Lorenzo walked over gently hugging his little sister tightly and kissing her forehead.

Jules stood grinning proudly at his goddaughter, he scooped her up spinning her around making her laugh, “Ah ma belle, i’m so proud.” He pressed kisses to top of her head making her giggle.

“Merci juju!” Estrelle grinned at her godfather.

“I think this calls for chocolate cake to celebrate.” Pascale smiled watching her twins heads snap towards her in unison.

“CHOCOLATE CAKE!” Estelle and Arthur gasped in unison, their favorite food, dessert, anything to do with food is chocolate desserts especially their mothers chocolate cake.

“Please Maman!” The twins sent their identical puppy dog eyes towards their mother.

“Of course my darlings.” Pascale fondly smiled kissing both of their cheeks.

April 20, 2015

Estelle a year ago joined the Ferrari Academy and had started driving with Prema this season in formula 4, with her teammates Zhou Guanyu and Ralf Aron, she currently dominating all the rookies in the series and putting up a good fight with the rest of the grid, the team thinking the next year will be more her year.

Estelle has becoming more familiar with the Prema team as her brother is also apart of the team and her godfather was also once a part of the Prema team, so she’s began to find a family there but more so with the ferrari academy.

She accepted to go with Angelina Ertsou, one of the more important and influential people in the series’s before formula one and someone who’s has began to care lots for the young girl who’s very determined to prove herself.

Angelina has been going to different karting races when she has the chance to look for upcoming talents and kids Prema may want to have on their teams and where they would recommend them to sign to a junior team. Also seeing kids who they have to talked to already who they know they want to have in the future.

Estelle eye was caught of on the kart with number 8, happening to watch the person driving with her number, who was leading the race almost the entire time until the last lap when someone behind the kart clipped it and number eight was pushed off the trac as the back of the kart was ripped off, and Estelle couldn’t help but frown seeing the kids race be ruined because of someone behind him knowing how much that’s sucks. She watched the race finished and saw the kid who clipped the kart being happy and arrogant with his win.

Estelle saw the kid in number 8 take the helmet off showing a younger boy with light brown hair, she could she the way he frowned and walked off towards one of sides of a building, she kept that in mind when she felt Angelina tap her arm to get up and walk to set a of parents that Angelina have talked to before.

“David! Terri!” Angelina smiled as she walked over the two but she could feel her face slip into concern as she saw them turn around and both looking distressed, “Is everything alright?”

“Our son we turned to see the end of the race and when we turned back he was out of his kart and gone.” Terri hurriedly explained looking worried not wanting to move knowing their son saw them their last.

Estelle couldn’t help but frown thinking of a boy that she saw walk away, “Was his number eight by chance.”

The parents turned slightly noticing the younger girl who’s face was covered in freckles and had beautiful green hazel eyes, her chestnut brown hair was in high ponytail spilt into two braids, a green quarter zip jacket with a black puffer vest over it, black leggings, and black leather boots.

“He is, did you see him?” David looked concerned as he hoped for good answer from the young girl.

“I think so i can go bring him back if you would like?” Estelle kindly offered having a feeling they woundnt want to leave as she saw they also have two younger children as well.

The parents both breathes a sigh of relief thanking the girl profusely who waved it off with a kind smile excusing herself walking over to building seeing a young boy sitting against the wall crying.

Estelle sat down slowly next to him not wanting to frighten him, “You know when i got clipped out i cried for a long while.”

The young boys head lifted up seeing someone sitting next to him with a kind smile towards him, He sniffed whipping his face, “Did you ever get over it?” He knew this was only his second year in karting but he wanted to prove himself so hard and that was difficult when his race was ruined with something out of his control.

Estelle gently scoffed, “Not for a long while. I cried for so long, i think my eyes were permanently red for a long while!” The boy smiled slightly making Estelle happy she is making him feel a bit better.

“But what i did learn later on was that to be a great driver you have to bad races and make mistakes because that’s how you get better. It’s okay to have a bad race or for it end with something out of your control but if you gave it your all then that’s all that matter. We are human and at the end of the day we aren’t perfect. So losing is okay even though it doesn’t always feel the best.” Estelle gave the advice she wished she knew when she had bad race days and would beat herself up for along time, something she still try’s not to do anymore.

The boy slowly nodded listening intently to the older girl, he didn’t feel completely better but he did feel a lot better than he did a few minutes ago, “Thank you.” Before his eyes opened wider sheepishly realizing he doesn’t know her name yet, “I’m Ollie, Ollie Bearman.”

Estelle smiled at the younger boy watching him put his hand out for a handshake, she gently took his hand shaking it, “Hello Ollie, i’m Estelle Leclerc.”

Ollie gasped in recognition, “Your the only girl driver in F4!” Ollie smiled having been rooting for her since he started watching the series.

Estelle smiled and nodded, “I am, but we do need to get you back to your parents buddy they’re looking for you.” She stood up brushing herself off holding a hand down for Ollie who gently took and stood and when Estelle was going to take her hand away Ollie just tightens his grip on her hand, Estelle just smiled at the young boy and walked over to where his parents were, seeing Angelina talk with another set of parents in the distance.

She watched the two parents both gasp in relief hugging their son tightly who was apologizing realizing he scared them.

Terri and David pulled back from their son looking at the young girl who found him, “Thank you so much.” Terri smiled in thankfulness at Estelle.

Estelle just smiled, “It’s not a problem.

“Where are my manners, I’m Terri Bearman and this is my husband David.” Terri smiled holding her hand out to Estelle who smiled seeing where Ollie got it from.

“I’m Estelle Leclerc.” Estelle politely smiled shaking Terri’s hand.

Angelina finshed talking with the other parents she had to talk to walking over seeing Estelle had found Ollie.

Angelina was talking with David and Teri, as Ollie walked around them and stood with Estelle who kneeled down to be level with him as she talked to Ollie.

The conversation with the three of them was at the end when they heard two loud laughs they looked over seeing Estelle and Ollie both laughing hard, and Ollie was naturally leaning on the older girl, who was about five years older then him.

“Ollie doesn’t usually get comfortable with people that fast.” Terri smiled seeing her son laugh and be comfortable with another person.

Angeline fondly smiled, “It’s Estelle, she has that effect of people.”

“We can see that.” David smiled seeing the two both talk so animated with each other and he had a feeling this would not be the last time they saw Estelle.

“I’ll see you again right?” Ollie looked hopeful as he looked at her.

“Promise buddy.” Estelle gave his hair a ruffle having a feeling Ollie will be joining Prema sooner than later.

The Bearmans watched the two walk away, “We’ll see Estelle again won’t we?” Ollie looked at his parents in hopefulness.

Terri brushed his hair smiling at her son, “You really like don’t you?”

Ollie rapidly nodded, “She’s awesome!”

The parents shared a look figuring they could ask Angelina a way to have Estelle be able to talk to Ollie.

What they all didn’t know what that it was the beginning of a amazing friendship and mentorship between the two racers.

July 21, 2015

The air just felt bare, silent, stoic. Estelle didn’t know but it just felt wrong knowing there would never be a time to make new memories with Jules again, never a time to go to a baseball game with him again, never a time to get a hug from him again, never a time to have sleepovers at his house for godfather-goddaughter days again. She knew there was never going to be a day she didn’t miss him.

Jules has been there for everything, he’s been there for her whole life, most of every family memories include Jules, he’s family he always will be.

Estelle couldn’t help but think that Jules would be lonely wherever he’s ended up and she hoped she’s wrong she couldn’t live with herself if she knew Jules was alone and without any family and friends.

Estelle leaned against the outside of church after his funeral, not even knowing how it already ended, she was trying not sob the entire funeral as she helped her two brothers hands.

She felt someone sit next to her and a hand intertwines with hers and head lean on her shoulder, she knew it was her younger twin brother, who was hurting as much as her.

“You’re not dying without me.” Arthur’s voice was raspy from not talking for awhile.

Estelle knew what he meant, they all could see Lorenzo become broken without his best friend and she knew exactly what Arthur meant. She looked over seeing the dry tear marks on his cheeks kissing the top of his head before leaning her head on his, “Never Arty, Never.” She knew it would destroy then if the one of them died before the other. She didn’t want to live in a world without her other half, a feeling she knew was mutual.

Charles walked out of the church looking to the side seeing his younger siblings curled up together, Arthur his eyes were red from crying and cheeks cried with tears, but Estelle’s face was blank but her eyes were what showed all the pain, the beautiful sparkle in her eye gone, he hoped he never had to see that look on her again.

Charles walked over sitting next to Estelle taking her other hand kissing her head letting her lean on his shoulder he wrapped one arm around both of his twins and his other holding Estelle’s hand.

The siblings sat for the rest the time in silence, cuddled up with each other for the rest of the funeral.

June 20, 2017

A seventeen year old Estrelle who looked heartbroken as she stood in the doorway to her fathers hospital room, she knew this was goodbye and the last time she could ever speak to her papa again, her mother gently touched her shoulder giving her a sad but encouraging look as she is the last one of her siblings to say her goodbyes.

She told a deep breath slowly walking in seeing the oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, she scooted the chair closer to his bed sitting down holding her fathers hand resting it against her lips kissing the back of her Papa’s hand.

Herve eyes weakly fluttered open looking to his right seeing his beautiful little princess who isn’t so small anymore and knew this was the last time they would see each other, his other hand weakly tried to get to his oxygen mask to speak, Estelle quickly helped him slip it off slighty.

“I’m so proud of you petit soleil.” He weakly croaked out his hand tightening around hers.

She shallowed before before she spoke, “I got into formula one papa, i’ll make you proud i promise.” She knew she lied as she just got accepted into formula two after winning the formula three championship this season, but she knew it’s always been her fathers dream to see her get into formula one and he’s been her biggest supporter and if she has to lie to make him happy, it’s fine by her. It just means she needs to make sure she gets into formula one after the next season.

Herve eyes lights up with happiness and proudness, tears filled his eyes as his hand weakly reached for the back of her head pulling her closer as he kissed her forehead, “Je t'aime petit soleil.”

“moi aussi, je t'aime papa.” Estelle mumbled back telling her father she loved him for the last time trying to hold her tears from falling, she felt the hand of her mother on her shoulder she gently pulled back from her papa looking at his face once more, the twos eyes connecting saying everything that was not said out-loud, she turned around holding a hand over moth to hold back her sobs as she walked into the hallway where her brothers were waiting, her twin who was crying into Lorenzo’s shoulder and Charles who was staring into the distance.

Estella sluggishly walked towards Chalres sitting next to him, “I lied i told papa i got into F1.”

Charles blinked hearing his sisters voice he reached his hand over holding hers, “I told papa i got into Ferrari.”

“Then we have to do that.” Estella declared making sure the last thing she told her Papa will come true.

“We will.” Charles leaned his head onto top of her head as they listen to the sound of their father’s heart monitor stop, both of their identical eyes losing its sparkle, again.

December 17, 2018

Estelle who just turned eighteen a few months ago finally has got the time to see the penthouse she bought the day she turned eighteen.

She picked her favorite place New York. Jules took her many times when she was younger, they would take a trip together, sightseeing around New York, going to see a yankees game and ever since the first time Estelle loves New York, and has been yankees fan since.

She’s wanted to have a place in New York since she could remember and the day she turned old enough she signed the papers.

Estella knows starting in Formula one in a few months she won’t get as much time as she will like to come visit but it will be nice to have a place where she can go and relax and just be herself even if it’s for a few days, she is also close to the yankees stadium and she close to Vogue headquarters which is where she has to go to a lot anyways.

She bought a penthouse that has two stories and a loft in it, The view of the city is beautiful and almost all the windows are from the floor to ceilings, the whole bottom floor is very open and feels spacious. A lot of metal and glass around the whole penthouse, very open floor plan on the bottom floor, her kitchen is very open with a large island, four guest bedrooms and her master bedroom, a huge bookcase that’s she already planning to fill with many books, a office that has the perfect view of the city, and her own at home gym, her bathroom has a huge bathtub perfect for relaxing where she can see the city from the bathtub, both stories have a balcony that wrap around the outside of the building and she has to have her key or a code to get to her floor from the elevator which is good for safety, and there is security in the apartment building twenty four seven.

She unlocked her beautiful door walking into the home that’s fully furnished alreadly and she already felt at peace.

She walked across the center of the room towards the other side that’s filled with large window loving the view she has of New York City.

Estelle turned her head taking everything in she walked down the hallway to the right of the front door that she knows is her side, she opened the door to her bedroom locking the open and simply look, she walked across towards her closet, that she already loves as it has so much room for close, Estelle always has to much clothing and she knew it would not be difficult for her to fill it fast.

Estelle turned to the other side of her room that had the bathroom door reaviling her beauty of a bathroom, a huge glass shower with a rain shower head, a giant bathtub by the windows, two matching sinks with large mirrors, and a vanity with a stool and mirror on the other side, she closed the door walking out of the room back to hallway passing the front door again heading up the first flight of stairs where she knows is her gym and all of her guest bedrooms, she walked towards the next set of stairs that leads to her loft is what she picked for her office.

Estelle walked towards the desk sitting in the chair looking out the window and smiled she got her dream house. A place she can choose to call home.

Having a hard time call Monaco home after her Father and Jules death.

September 8, 2019

“MERCEDES THREW EVERYTHING AT THEM TODAY, CHARLES LECLERC COPED BRILLIANTLY. HE WON IN SPA, HE WINS IN MONZA. ESTELLE LECELEC THE ROOKE EVERYONE WAS TOLD TO LOOK OUT FOR, HAS JUST PROVED WHY WITH A SEOND PLACE PODIUM IN HER ROOKIE YEAR, NOT ONCE HAS SHE FINISHED LOWER THAN FIFTH THE WHOLE SEASON.”

Chalres cheered as he pulled his car into the first place spot, running towards his team getting hugs and pats on the back, before he heard more cheers again and turned seeing his sister getting out of her car in second place, and he couldn’t help the tears fillings his eyes seeing his little sister grow up and accomplish a piece of her dream he quickly ran towards her not being able to the see her bright smile that he knew she had under her helmet, he pulled her into a tight hug feeling her arms tighten around him.

They pulled back the two siblings looking at each other, placing there for heads together through their helmets.

“A sibling 1-2!” Charles grinned as he spoke to his sister knowing it’s been their dream to get a 1-2 together.

Estelle laughed full of excitement, “We’ll have to get a 1-2-3 next!” She grinned under the helmet knowing sooner than later they will be joined by Arthur and they will have a podium of just Leclercs.

Chalres fondly laughed, putting his hand where her buckle is on her helmet helping it undo, watching her pull it off head as he undid his, He threw a arm around her shoulder, as they walked to the weight scale.

Estelle was the first to walk in the cool off room she put a finger over her lips as she looked at the cameras before walking towards the winners seat which should be Charles seat today but Estelle quickly sat in it grinning as she drank from her water bottle.

Lewis walked into chucked shaking his head seeing where Estelle sat, patting her on the head congratulating her for her first podium. Lewis has followed Estelle career for awhile and has been one of her biggest supporters since she joined Formula one.

Charles walked into the cool off room setting his helmet on the table drinking water and wiping his face, as he turned around seeing Estelle sitting in his seat with an innocent face, Charles raised an eyebrow laughing, “Really?” Estelle just smiled in reply.

“Alright off ma cherie.” He gently pushed her off and toward her seat, “Don’t worry soon it will be your seat.”

And Charles wasn’t wrong the next race, Singapore, Estelle got her first win, as a rookie in Singapore. She continued to win the rest of the races thought our the season, fighting until the last race to win the championship against Lewis and gaining the championship title, as a rookie and a female.

December 12, 2019

Estelle was in one of the many Vouge headquarters seeing the young and upcoming models and doing a talk day for them all, especially as she just became a formula one world champion at 19 and have been working with vogue for 10 years already.

The talk was her giving tips and advice in the model world, talking about the highs and lows of being a model and she showed them a few different model walks and had the group of around 20 young girl teenagers copy her, the hours went by fast before she knew it almost everyone was gone and she had finished answering anyone who came up to her for questions.

Estelle saw a girl who looked a few years younger than her sitting on a bench packing up her bag and sliding off her heeled shoes, wincing slighty, Estelle walked over stopping in front of her, “May i sit?” She gestured to the spot next to the the girl.

The girls head snapped up nodding, “Sim. I mean yes.” She answered in Portuguese before giving a sheepish smile, Estelle smiled sitting down looking at her sore feet, “My feet used to the same, so i started putting plaster on the parts that got hurt and i never had a problem again.” Estelle gestured to the girls feet knowing what’s it’s like to get use to heels.

The girl blinked in surpise nodding, “Oh thank you.” She smiled slighty putting her hand out, “I’m Fransicia but everyone calls be Kika.”

“It’s nice to meet you Kika, I’m Estelle” Estelle smiled shaking her hand, having a feeling Kika was going to become someone pretty special to her.

“Oh i know.” Kika smiled slighty shy having always looked up to Estelle as she is so young and is already the top model worldwide.

“Well can i have your number then Kika.” Estelle gently smiled at the girl, knowing she was going to great things in the modeling world.

“Course.” Kika blinked slighty shocked that she wanted be number but then realized Estelle is still a regular person too and she is only three years older than her. Kika took the phone Estella passed to her typing in her number real quick, before passing it back.

The two said their goodbyes to each other and it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

May 24, 2022

Estelle parked her Porsche 911 Turbo S Carbriolet, That she of course bought in a dark green color. She grabbed her green Dior saddle bag, slipping on her Prada sunglasses getting out of the car, walking up towards the hair salon that her mother owns, Estelle knew her mother didn’t have any clients today but she would be at the salon, She walked into the salon putting sunglasses on the top of her head smiling as she watched her mother head look up to tell whoever was coming in they weren’t open for business today but stopped when she her daughter.

“Oh my darling!” Pascale gasped in delight rushing forward pulling her daughter into a hug, feeling a rush of nostalgia when they hugged and Estelle taller than her when she used to be shorter than her. Pascale pulled back cupping Estelle face having missed seeing her the last few week in person, “Mon amour your aren’t suppose be here till tomorrow night?” Pascale questioned knowing it was a rule in their family when it was Monaco race weekend all her children come home and have dinner together and that is tomorrow night.

“It was a surprise thought we could have the day and tomorrow just us before the boys come over.” Estelle smiled watching her mother light up in excitement knowing she missed her children a lot and is glad to have anytime with them.

“Of course darling!” Pascale smiled kissing her daughters cheek, “Is this why your brother dropped me off today?” Pascale smiled watching the slight sheepish look cover her only daughter’s face, a look she saw more often with Estelle as she grew up.

“Yes Maman.” Estelle knew her mom would figure it out quickly, As her mother knew all her children the best.

Pascale fondly smiled, “Now it’s time to do your hair mon cher!” Always loving to do her daughters hair as they don’t get as much time anymore.

“Of course Maman.” Estelle fondly smiled letting her mother drag her to Salon chair and tying the cutting cape over her.

Pascale looked over her daughter’s beautiful hair deciding what to do, “Hmm what about a gloss?” She looked through the mirror seeing the nod of approval, Pascale knowing that her daughter doesn’t love to dye her hair and would rather it be her natural color.

“Your shoes were beautiful in the picture you sent.” Pascale complimented her daughter, Estelle always made sure to send photos and videos when she was away of everything and anything so her mother could still be a big part of her life.

“Good, i have a pair in your size Maman.” Estelle cheekily grinned knowing her mother didn’t love how all her children spoil her as they have grown up and earn their own money.

“Of course you did cheri.” Pascale fondly smiled knowing she couldn’t stop her children from spoiling her, she’s tried.

The mother and daughter just talked for hours as Pascele did the gloss, before she cut Estelle’s hair and gave her a blow out.

Estelle stood up gently taking off the cutting cape fixing the white and black stripped sweater that’s tied across her shoulder, with her black cropped shirt with blue jeans and white converse, as she smiled at her hair gently touching always loving it the best when her mother did it.

“Merci Maman!” Estelle kissed her mother cheeks in thank you. She linked arms with her mother as they walked out of the salon locking it up, before walking over to Estelle car going to get lunch together before they shopped the rest of the day.

#lando norris x reader #jack hughes x reader #f1 driver!reader #f1 x y/n #lando norris x y/n #jack hughes #jh86 #nhl x reader #f1 x female reader #charles leclerc sister #charles leclerc x reader

[seneitut]

i know that most of your fics are more with sub gekko but.. do u also have some dom gekko fics? i wanna see how u would write him in that position hehe

“Obssesion”

[Gekko x F!Reader]

Words: 3.1K

Tags: NSFW +18, fully smut, fluff , touching, vaginal sex, service top!Gekko, Sub!Reader, Missionary, Cowgirl, Consent (bcs is sexy), mentions of obsession, couple in love so much love.

[HAVE YOU SEEN THE TRAILER FOR THE NEW VALORANT CHAMPIONSHIP VIDEO??? IT HAS GEKKO, AND HE LOOKS SO HANDSOME MY GOD SOMEONE HOLD ME BACK BARBKAFBKAFBARK]

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Gekko’s hands are cold to the touch when he roams your thighs with a slow caress, trembling slightly when you part your legs so he can settle between them easily. 

His breathing gets uneven when his hazel eyes travel up your naked body, splaying beautifully under him, and he gulps down his nervousness when you direct him a soft smile. 

From the tips of your toes, to your knees and above, he devours the sight with hunger and dripping with lust.

Flustered, his cock twitches in between his legs watching your glistening folds and how moist it has gotten, that he licks his lips unconsciously. 

Gods, he wants to eat you up, dive in and drown between your legs if possible. 

This carnal passion has been burning him from the inside the moment your clothes began to fall to the floor; piece by piece, layer by layer, he unraveled you until you were bare and ready to give yourselves to each other in this dance of love.

To hear your screams, moaning his name and chasing after the good feeling without reprieve. For you to hold his head in place, pushing him against your sex while he sucks and licks you up, thrusting his tongue and feeling your walls clamp on him from the pleasure he can only provide to you.

This all will stop being the fantasies he's created throughout the time he's known you. All the images and possible scenarios where you both make frenzied love, collecting them in his brain for his every night routine when he jacks off to the thought of you, this is all gonna be real for him.

But for that, he has to take the first step, even if he is dying with anxiety.

“May I?” he asks, both of his thumbs are massaging your navel. There is a tinge of shyness in his voice that melts your heart with tenderness. 

You are unable to deny him anything.

“Of course, love.”

Grinning softly, he moves his hand up your chest, caressing your skin with carefulness and hovering under your breasts, massaging the mounds with timidness.

He rolls your nipples between his fingertips in a brave attempt to pleasure you, pinching them until he has you gasping and has the time to go down and kiss you between the valley of your breasts softly.

Whining, you raise your hips, searching desperately for some friction and for Mateo to stop teasing you so endearly. He smiles, the blush on his face intensifies when you pout at him and he winks playfully; you cannot help but go wild with love for this silly man.

Reaching for his face, you encourage him to lean on, enticing and tempting as you look, it is impossible for him to not obey your silent requests. Slotting your mouths together, Gekko drowns in the feeling, sighing in pleasure when your nails racks down his back in a possessive hold and your legs cages him against your body.

His arms find purchase next to your head when you bite his lip softly, tongue making its way into his mouth, making him lightheaded and almost lose his composure. 

Kissing him feels like a fever dream, an experience out of this world with how giddy and enamored you fall under his charm and taste. He reciprocates the kiss with the same fervor and passion, tongue toying with yours, fighting for a dominance he knows he can easily get but letting you take the lead. 

Your hips fit one upon the other, grinding with slow movements until his member slides in between your lower lips, covering it in your juices, and making pressure against your clit that sends shivers down your spine. Gekko’s hips stutter at one specific thrust, gasping into your mouth and weight wavering on top of you. 

Your hands caress his arms, toned and muscled, covered in beautiful tattoos framing it way up to his neck until you have your whole world in your palms.

Despite burning with desire and lust clouding your mind, you take your time to look into his eyes, gazing lovingly and longing, trying to get him back from the clouds and attention on you.

“I love you.” you whisper, thumbs soothing his skin with tenderness. “I'm so in love with you, Teo.”

Mateo’s eyes water at your words, smiling brightly and kissing your lips with eagerness. Your words bring a sense of accomplishment that has his heart bursting with so much love that he cannot help but let a tear roll by his cheek.

He laughs then, peppering your face with tiny kisses to avoid being so emotional over some significant words to him—he goes for your cheeks, mouth and temple, smooching them with the same amount of affection till he has you giggling with delight.

“I love you too.”

Hovering over your lips, he kisses you with gentleness. Your hands go around his shoulder, chest against chest, hot skin pressed against your hot skin, mouths slothing together and hips sliding the bare minimum to get the stimulation going.

Getting a spike of boldness, Gekko thrusts his hips against yours, the underside of his cock stimulating your clit with the harsh movement you groan against his lips.

Moaning loudly, you raise your pelvis, chasing after the pleasurable feeling and making circular motions with your hips. Mateo's half-lidded eyes watches you with desire dripping from every ounce of his body, getting back to his kneeling position and holding your hips still.

“Chica mala,” he whispers. The pet name makes you feel unspeakable things, surprisingly. “Stop moving so much, you're making this harder.”

His broad hands squeezes your sides affectionately, moving upwards until he's cupping your breasts firmly against his palms this time. Thumbs run over the hardened nipples, enticing more beautiful sounds from your mouth that has his cock twitching in anticipation; he decides to tease you further, sucking one of your breasts inside his mouth. 

“Mateo!” 

His tongue circles around the areola, sucking softly and pulling the nipple with his teeth. His right hand rolls the other nipple between his fingertips, pinching softly and grabbing the mound to ground himself. He repeats the motions once, twice, until you are squirming under his weight and dripping wet.

You thrash under his ministrations, chanting his name softly while he abuses your chest as much as he wants and marks every inch of skin with his love bites and hickeys.

The skin is his canvas, and he's never felt more like an artist decorating every part with his watermark, watching his marks bloom into existence against your tender skin—bruising a shade darker than your color skin; from your neck down your chest and, maybe, if you'd let him, between your thighs.

He's in love, he feels so much love and passion and want and desire; Gekko never thought it was possible to be this infatuated with someone, this desperate and melting from the inside seeing your pleading face look up at him, as if he could hang the moon and stars for you.

Gekko has never been the one to be this obsessed with anybody, but there's always a first time for everything.

Kissing your temple, he rests his forehead against yours, pants intermingling and his hazel eyes boring deep into your eyes.

“You’re so pretty.” he whispers, smiling softly. You whine embarrassed, it only fuels him to keep going. “Tan bella, dulce, mi amor, mi vida.” 

You’ve heard him say those things to you before with different layers of meaning. Each time he would explain, with an embarrassed smile and cheeks flushed, what it means to him when he calls you by those pet names. It is endearing when he fumbles with his words and actions.

But this time, his slurred voice, deeply whispering promises of love without a single layer of shyness, only lust clouding his eyes and desire pouring from his voice while his hand touches every inch of your skin—it sets you on fire.

“I can’t believe this is happening.” He raises up, hovering over your body menacingly. His eyes never leave yours. “Finalmente eres mía.”

Sobbing, your hands lay against his pecs, massaging the muscle with tenderness, “Mateo—I can't wait anymore.”

Huffing a laugh, his big hands roam your legs to your thighs, up to the curves in your stomach and squeezing. You whine, embarrassed, but he reassures you with a soft smile and a whisper of: beautiful, while he touches you shamelessly.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks, his thumb reaches your lower lip, caressing it softly. 

Nodding your head, you kiss the digit, holding onto his hand and letting it roam down to your chest until he grabs the mounds with desire. 

“I can wait a little longer.” He continues, watching the moment desperation hits your eyes.

He’s bluffing, of course, because he can no longer contain his need to make love to you. The head of his cock is oozing of pre-cum, hard as rock and wanting to be engulfed in your warm walls. His hips are still, his heavy member resting against your outer lips and coating itself with your own desire; it is tempting to go for it when you’re this wide open for him, so vulnerable, so eager.

Is like having a pretty present he isn’t allowed to have yet. It heighnes his want, the tension in the air and how appetizing you’re starting to look the longer he holds back.

“I need it, please.” You’re begging him at this point, grinding against his member. But is not enough, “Fuck me, use me, do whatever you want, but please, give me some relief.”

Sighing, Mateo squeezes your breast before freeing his hand to grip onto your hip and guides the tip of his cock to your entrance, testing the waters and only applying certain pressure to keep you on your toes.

Groaning, you hold onto his wrist, desperation swimming in your eyes, "Mateo, now, please.”

The tension leaves your body when he finally shelters inside your warm cunt, inserting himself slowly and enjoying every little reaction he gets from you. The tightness in which you’re gripping his cock is enough to send his eyes rolling back, mouth open and soft groans of pleasure flowing from his mouth. 

Gekko can’t help it, hips stuttering when he’s fully in, he moans your name, completely entranced in the way you’re locked together in this intimate way. 

This isn't the first time for you, and he's known that. You've had sex before, you have the experience he lacks, but that doesn’t deter the pride swallowing him from the inside when he sees the mess you’re in right now. And all because of him.

Your eyes are glazed over, watching him through blurry eyes and every single touch or feeling heightened to its limits. Face warm, nipples perked up and your cunt trying to suck him in, you wonder what the fuck did Mateo do to reduce you to this puddle of lust under him.

Having had sex before, you know how it is to be fucked or simply used for other’s pleasure.

But then why, why does being penetrated by Mateo felt so fucking good and different when he’s never done this before?

His hips have started moving in and out, slowly, to get a feel of this new sensation and experience. Dragging his heavy cock out of your pussy, and inserting himself with a quick slap against your pelvis sends jolts of pleasure to the both of you.

“Oh!” You whine, eyes wide open this time. 

Mateo reaches for your hands, clasping them together on top of your head while his other hand raises your leg above his shoulder to have a better position. He starts a fast rhythm, smacking his hips against yours on a deafening slaps of skins.

With the new position, his cock inside of you reaches your insides in ways you’ve never felt before; it makes you see stars every time the head of his member hits your g-spot in every thrust and Mateo groans in tandem with that deep voice of his.

His face warms heavily watching your breasts bounce with his movements, feeling like a pervert with just observing them and switching his focus from your face, the erotic expressions you're making to your cunt drooling out.

Gasping, Mateo buries his head in your neck, mouthing the skin and biting down more marks to decorate the already purpling bruises. 

“Teo, teo! Harder!” You break free from his hold, and your hands fly to the back of his head and aim his mouth to yours to kiss him passionately. Your right hand holds onto his broad shoulder, racking down your nails as he slows down his movements to make his thrusts deeper and harder.

Mateo is enjoying himself a lot. 

Tasting your lips against his mouth, hands pawing all over his body in need and want, and one of your legs holding him in place; Gekko has never felt more desired in his entire life than now, and is such an ego boost because it's you who wants him in the bed, sharing this passionate moment and vulnerability.

The woman of his dreams, the one he’s been pining for so long, the one to reciprocate his feelings; he can almost feel the tears gathering on his eyes with the overwhelming sensations of love and pleasure clouding his mind.

“I love you so much.” he whispers against your lips, groaning your name in gasps. The hold on your leg in his shoulder is wavering at the same time his snapping hips are losing the constant rhythm in which he fucks you. “I want you to ride me, can you do that for me, love? I want you bouncing on my cock.”

You nod desperately, letting him manhandle you while changing positions.

Letting go of your leg, Mateo makes some distance to help you sit up properly before laying down himself.

You climb on top of him fast, already guiding his still hard cock to your entrance and not giving him a chance to say anything but moan in surprise when you slam down your hips against his.

Bouncing as fast as you can, you open your legs to give him the full view of your pussy being penetrated over and over again by him and holding your weight against his thighs.

His reaction is such a price, face beet red and hands pawing over your legs to your hips and stomach, he doesn't know where to grab you from nor do with his actions. Mateo never expected you to be this wild when it comes to pleasuring; but refuses to reject the full experience if it's with you.

The tightening coil inside his lower belly is approaching fastly. The head of his cock brushes once again against your core, making you moan his name and ride his dick with wild abandon to help him chase his first climax with you.

You don't mind waiting once again, you don't mind letting him cum inside of you if it means he's going to be happy and satisfied. You love Gekko deeply, you love him so much you would do anything for this man.

And he proves, once again, that he loves you with the same fervor and passion. 

One of his hands helps you steady the rhythm of your snapping hips, with him timing his thrusts against your pussy to make it harder and deeper. His right hand goes straight to your clitoris and begins masturbating you alongside the smacking of skins.

Giving yourself up, you scream his name to the gods above, your own climax approaching rapidly with how skillful Mateo is with his fingers rolling on your little nub of pleasure and how good his cock is drilling inside of you.

“Mateo! More, more, I'm close!” You whine loudly when the thrusts become only grinding against his pelvis, too tired to keep jumping. 

This new position gives you all the stimulation you need to reach your first orgasm of the night, though, screeching his name and holding onto his chest for leverage while riding the climax rocking your body and its core.

Closing your eyes, stars burst under your eyelids while riding the sensation of breaking apart and being so full at the same time.

Mateo is not far behind, both of his hands helping your movements until he bursts inside your warm walls, coating the insides with his seed and groaning your name in a soft whisper.

The both of you grind against each other with soft movements until overstimulation runs down your systems, and only then, you stop completely to slump on top of him; his softened cock still buried inside you.

Panting heavily, Gekko kisses the top of your head, a silly smile adorning his features and hands massaging your sweaty back for some comfort. Cheek against his chest, your hands run up to his neck so your finger toys with his pretty earring hanging from the earlobe.

“That was amazing, love.” He mutters, voice completely honeyed with satisfaction and loaded with affection. “You felt amazing.”

“Hmm, did you have fun?” you ask. He nods eagerly. 

“I've been wanting to do this with you for a long time.” Confessing his deepest secret doesn't embarrass him as much, the deed has been done, what is there to hold back? “You are so gorgeous, how could I even resist you?”

“How filthy, pretty boy.” Biting your lower lip, you hum to yourself. “I wonder what else goes through that head of yours.

Laughing gravely, his eyelids drop slightly, the corner of his lips tugs in a teasing smirk. “Want to find out, gorgeous?”

“So eager for another round?” 

“I'm eager for you.”

Flustered, you warm at his words. “Is that so?”

Mateo doesn't waste a second to lock eyes with you and for his hands to start roaming your naked body on top of his. If it weren't for the post-orgasmic experience, you would have bet anything to confirm his irises looked like hearts watching your every move, too entranced, too enamored.

“Why don't you jump right here and test the waters, hm?” He asks, licking his lips. “I bet it is uncomfortable having my cum buried deep inside your pussy. Let me help you with that.” 

Spent but interested, you let him help you kneel on top of his mouth, wide open and pierced tongue peeking out playfully when your cunt hovers closer to his wanting lips.

“You're gonna need to hold onto something if you wanna stay up there.” He warns, you raise a brow at that. “You're not leaving until I milk you dry, mi amor.”

#I cant see gekko as dom nor write him as such uNLESS is some sort of Yandere gekko but even then he will be more of the service top #idk i feel like he loves way too hard to let it be just infatuation #gekko x reader #seneitut writes #valorant fanfiction #gekko smut #hope you like it!!!!!!

[hockeylovee12]

Crossing Enemy Lines

Chapter One

Luke Hughes x Original Character

Summary: When Luke Hughes got drafted by the New Jersey Devils he knew he was entering one of the most intense rivalries in professional hockey. But what he didn't bargain for was falling in love with a Rangers player's sister during his first year in the show.

OR Luke Hughes meets the right girl with the wrong last name.

Warnings: Cussing

November 10th, 2023

Inside a dimly lit bar tucked away in Jersey City, Luke occupies a corner seat surrounded by some of his teammates. His shoulders hunch inside the navy jacket he wears, while a grim scowl tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Around him the sounds of clinking glasses, rhythmic thuds of billiard balls, and lively chatter echo off the walls, creating a cacophony of noise as he tries to drown out the bitter feeling of defeat.

John, slides into the empty seat beside him, nudging his shoulder lightly, "Come on Lukey, Just shake it off, it's not the end of the world" he urges, allowing a smile that doesn't quite reach his warm brown eyes to cross his lips.

Luke turns towards John, his scowl unwavering.

If Luke was a Swiftie, he could point out the irony of John quoting Taylor Swift after they lost to the New York Rangers. But he's not so instead he settles for a half-hearted shrug.

"Seriously, man, you can't let one loss get to you like this," Jack cuts in, placing a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Just forget about it. It's one game. We still got three more against those assholes" He adds with the same persuasive tone he used less than an hour ago to convince Luke to come to the bar in the first place.

A heavy sigh escapes Luke's lips as his shoulders slump further.

He can't just forget about it. They lost 1-7 to the New York fucking Rangers, their literal Rivals. The same team they managed to kick out of the playoffs last season, the same team they beat several times in preseason, and the same team they couldn't fucking score against.

It was a complete shit show from start to finish.

A stupid hooking call cost them the game's first goal. Then a series of shitty defense decisions, put them in a hole they couldn't climb out of. And then there was Igor fucking Shesterkin, standing on his head and making 23 saves out of 24 shots like he was some kind of brick wall. The one goal they managed to squeeze past him was a lucky bounce that barely counted.

It was infuriating to watch Panarin and Zibanejad dance circles around their defense, while they couldn't even get a decent scoring chance on the other side.

Luke is momentarily pulled away from his bitter recounter of the game, as the loud laughter of his teammates, Nate and Dawson echoes throughout the space, as they return to their table with a fresh round of drinks.

"What's with the long face, Rusty?" Dawson asks, as he sets down the glasses, with a clink, and claps Luke on the shoulder.

"Don't tell me you're still moping about tonight's loss" Nate jokes, his tone light and teasing, as he sticks to his well-known game philosophy of 'play and move on'.

A sentiment clearly not shared by every member of the Devils.

"Shut it, Bass" Luke mumbles, shooting him an irritated glare.

A small chuckle rumbles from Dawson's chest, "Come on man. Don't be like that" he says as Luke's lips return to a scowl.

"Alright fine, if you're gonna pout about the game at least do it well drinking so you're not a buzzkill" Dawson boasts as he slides a fresh beer across the table to Luke, which would otherwise be inaccessible to him seeing as how he's still got 10 months till he can order one for himself-at least legally.

Luke accepts the beer with a resigned sigh, his hazel eyes somewhat softening for the first time tonight, as the crisp, tangy scent wafts towards him "Easy for you to say, you weren't the one getting ragdolled by fucking Trouba every damn shift."

"Tell me about it," Nate shakes his head in dismay. "Did you see the way he drove Jonas into the boards in the third? Could've broken some ribs with that bullshit cheapshot."

"Jacob Trouba's a fucking punk, can't believe he wears the C" Jack adds

"They're all fucking punks" Luke mutters

"At least our rookies' loyalties lie with the right team" Nate jokes, as he reaches across the table to ruffle Luke's hair, much to his annoyance.

"Their dirty fucking players" Luke adds, taking a sip of his beer

"Ok true, but we can't let them get in our heads" John states with conviction. "They can play as dirty as they want, alright we just gotta focus on our game"

"Mr. Harvard's right" Nate says confidently, raising his now half-full beer "Next game, we return the favor and shut up those loudmouths"

"That's not-"

"Alright guys enough dwelling on that shit show," Dawson states, "We're supposed to be blowing off steam tonight, not sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves."

Jack nods in agreement "Daws is right, we won't seem em for a while anyway, so let's stop talking about the Rangers"

The group mutters in agreement before falling into silence, waiting for a new topic to arise.

"Did you guys see Haula's reaction to the prank Nate and I pulled on him yesterday?" Dawson asks

"That was you guys, Damn he was pissed" John says

"Hey payback bitch he shouldn't have put shaving cream in our skates. Piece of shit" Nate claims, his voice wavering with some degree of platonic affection for one of their older teammates.

Most of the group chuckles at Nate's anecdote, except for Luke, who's still stuck in his own head.

"Remember that time, we triple knotted every pair of Quinn's shoes" Jack asks, gently nudging Luke's arm.

A faint smile tugs at the corner of Luke's mouth as the memory surfaces "Ya, he tried to shove his big ass feet into my Vans"

"And then he spent the next week trying to get us back" Jack adds, grinning "And failed miserably every time."

Luke let's out a soft chuckle, it's not his usual boisterous laugh, but hey it's a start.

*****

As the night wears on, the lively conversation and laughter enveloping their table slowly eases the weight of the loss from Luke's shoulders.

Then in the midst of a lively discussion about fantasy football with Dawson, Jack and John, his attention absentmindedly drifts towards the door, and his gaze suddenly locks onto the captivating sight of a stunning girl with cascading locks of dark-chocolate colored hair, and a warm smile, gracefully stepping into the bar.

"Hey, where did Nate disappear to?" John's question floats through the air momentarily anchoring Luke back to the table strewn with empty glasses.

Their eyes wander around the bar, until the spot Nate weaving his way through a small crowd an impish grin plastered on his face.

"Big news boys! Guess who's got a date tomorrow!" he boasts, wavering around a paper napkin that seemingly has a phone number written on it-whether it was actually the girls or a random one made up on the spot, we may never know-prompting a chorus of laughter to ripple across the table.

Luke cracks a smile too, but it's not one that reaches his eyes. They've wandered off already, tracking the girl he spotted moments ago, who now leans casually against the bar counter, her fingers drumming a silent rhythm on its surface as she waits for her drink.

"Luke?" Jack's voice cuts through his thoughts, sharp enough to draw attention, yet laced with a hint of concern "You okay, man?"

"Uh, yeah" Luke stammers, trying to mask how his focus had strayed. He forces himself to lock eyes with Jack hoping to convey a sense of normalcy.

But Jack knows him too well, reads him too easily and one look at Luke's face tells him where his brother's mind had wandered off to.

Luke's eyes quickly shift towards the girl again, who's retrieving her drink from the bar, and takes a small sip.

"Earth to Luke," John teases.

All heads subtly turn to acknowledge the object of Luke's distraction, watching as she walks towards the vacant pool table.

"Looks like someone caught your eye" Dawson says with a wry smile, elbowing Luke playfully.

"Looks like your type too," Jack adds, a sly grin crossing his lips. "Why don't you go say hi?"

"Come on, man" John's encouragement is gentle, persuasive "Take your mind off things for a bit"

"Go ahead rook" Nate prods "Show us what you've got"

Luke hesitates for a moment, allowing the suggestion to linger in the air.

Before a not so subtle shove to the shoulder by Jack, causes him to push his chair back and stand up.

"Alright wish me luck" He mutters

"Attaboy!" Nate exclaims, clapping his shoulder.

The cool air circulating inside the bar brushes against the small amounts of exposed skin, as he crosses the short distance to the pool table.

"Hey," he says, flashing a quick grin that hopefully looks more charming than nervous.

"Hi," the girl replies, her voice a melodic hint of intrigue. She looks up, a smile teasing at the corners of her lips. "I'm Jordan"

"Luke" he offers back, a tentative smile of his own forming.

"Want to play?" she asks, gesturing to the table with a cue stick.

"Sure," Luke responds, retrieving a cue from the rack on the wall.

"So are you any good?" Jordan teases, as she lines up for her shot.

"Depends on the day," Luke admits, watching as she sinks a solid ball into a corner pocket.

"Looks like today might be my day then" she quips, with a soft smile on her face as she steps to the side.

Luke chuckles as he takes his shot, cleanly sinking a striped ball into a corner pocket. "Guess we'll see about that."

*****

As the game plays out, the rhythmic clack of pool balls blends nicely with their voices, providing a backdrop as they learn more about one another.

"So, Jordan," he asks curiosity gleaming in his eyes, "what brings you here tonight?"

Jordan leans against her cue, "Just wanted to explore a little"

Luke lets out a soft laugh as he lines up his shot, expertly guiding the striped ball into the middle pocket "You from around here?" he asks

Jordan leans forward, cue in hand and takes her shot. The satisfying click of the pool balls echoing in the bar, signaling another point for her.

She straightens up and glances at Luke with a smirk, "New York City" she replies

"Let me guess, you're a secret pool shark, got bored of the games up there?" he asks, his tone laced with a sense of humor, as he takes his shot and the ball ricochets off the side and misses sinking into the pocket by an inch.

"Close I'm a student at NYU" she answers

"NYU, wow that's really impressive. What's you studying?" Luke questions watching as she sinks another ball

Jordan shrugs, a modest smile on her lips "I just started up a few weeks ago, but I'm majoring in English Lit" she replies

"English Lit, huh, you a big reader?" Luke asks

"Yeah, there's just something about getting lost in a good book, you know?"

"Yeah I do" Luke agrees "Although I probably don't read as much as I should. Maybe you can recommend something for me?"

"I'd love to," Jordan says, her eyes sparkling. "But only if you promise me you'll actually read it."

"Cross my heart," Luke grins, making an exaggerated gesture.

Their eyes meet, a spark of connection passing between them as they share a smile.

Jordan leans against the pool table, studying Luke for a moment before asking, "So, what about you? What's your story?"

Luke hesitates, his mind racing as he considers how to respond. His eyes briefly flicker to his teammates, still laughing and joking at their table.

He's seen it before, seen it a handful of times over the past few months since he's become an NHL player, hell he saw it before too, with both his brothers being in the show.

The way people's perceptions change when they learn of his profession, or his last name, the way their eyes widen with awe or narrow with skepticism, or the way the conversation shifts completely and suddenly their no longer talking to him, their either talking at him telling him their thoughts and opinions about him, or they throw questions at him like a round of rapid fire, wanting to know what life in the NHL is really like.

And so, in this moment, with Jordan's eyes on him, warm and inviting. Luke decides tonight he's not a hockey player, he's not Hughes, he's just a guy enjoying a night out and connecting with a beautiful girl over a game of pool.

"Well, uh-I'm originally from New Hampshire" he begins, the half-truth rolling off his tongue "But I moved out here for school. Studying sports business"

He sinks another ball, the satisfying clack echoing in the bar.

He was born in New Hampshire, even if he hasn't lived there since he was 3, and technically, he's doing something with sports business, just not studying it, so it's not completely a lie or at least that's what he tells himself.

"What made you interested in sports business?" Jordan remarks, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

"I've always been pretty active, played a lot of sports growing up," Luke explains, watching as Jordan takes her turn, expertly maneuvering the cue ball. "I guess I just wanted to find a way to stay involved, even if I'm not playing, you know?"

Jordan nods, understanding in her eyes. "That makes sense."

As they continue to talk, the game progresses, with Jordan maintaining a slight lead. She sinks her last solid ball, leaving only the 8-ball and one striped ball remaining.

"You're pretty good at this," Luke says, lining up his shot.

"Ya well growing up with an older brother has its perks, taught me how to handle my own" Jordan replies, brushing a strand of brown hair from her face.

"Sounds like a good guy" Luke says just before hitting his last striped ball into a middle pocket

"Most of the time," she admits

A small smile tugs at Luke's lips as he watches Jordan ready herself for the final shot, "Your form could use some work, though" Luke teases

"Is that so?" Jordan smirks, glancing up at him.

"Maybe just a little" Luke grins, with a playful glint in his eyes "Care to prove me wrong?"

Jordan leans in, focusing on the shot. With a smooth, confident motion, she strikes the cue ball, sending the 8-ball rolling towards the corner pocket. It teeters on the edge for a brief moment before dropping in with a satisfying thud.

"Looks like I just did," Jordan grins, straightening up and facing Luke.

Luke chuckles, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I guess I stand corrected. Clearly, you've got this game figured out."

They share a smile, the air between them charged with a flirtatious energy. Jordan takes a step closer, her eyes locked on Luke's.

"Well, maybe I just got lucky," she murmurs, her voice low and playful.

"Or maybe you're just that good," Luke counters, his gaze drifting to her lips for a fleeting moment.

The tension between them is palpable, the rest of the bar fading into the background as they stand mere inches apart. Jordan's hand brushes against Luke's, sending a jolt of electricity through his body.

"I guess we'll have to play again sometime," Jordan suggests, her tone laced with promise. "Give you a chance to redeem yourself."

"I'd like that," Luke replies, his voice soft and sincere.

Jordan smiles, a genuine, warm expression that makes Luke's heart skip a beat, as she reaches for her phone. "Here, put your number in, and I'll text you."

Jordan smiles before adding "Maybe next time, I'll even let you win."

Luke laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, you're on. But I won't need you to let me win. I can do that all on my own." he says as he takes the phone, his fingers brushing against hers as he types in his number.

There's a spark, a jolt of electricity that passes between them, and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away.

"I don't doubt it for a second," Jordan grins, the admiration clear in her eyes.

When he hands the phone back, their eyes meet once more, a silent acknowledgment of the connection they both feel.

"I should probably get going," Jordan says reluctantly, glancing at the time. "Early class tomorrow."

"Of course," Luke nods, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment in his chest.

Luke nods, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment in his chest. "It was nice to meet you Jordan"

"It was nice to meet you too Luke"

Luke grins, watching as she gathers her things and heads for the door.

Luke stands there for a moment, watching as Jordan's silhouette fades into the night, a grin plastered across his face. The cool evening breeze rustles his hair, but he barely notices, his mind still replaying the events of the past few hours.

With a final glance at the door, Luke turns and makes his way back to the table where his teammates await. As he approaches, he can see their faces light up with a mix of curiosity and good-natured mischief.

*****

"Well, well, well," Nate drawls, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Look who decided to grace us with his presence again."

"Shut it Nate" Luke replies, but there's no heat behind his words. He slides into his seat, grabbing his half-finished beer and taking a swig.

"So..." John says, a smile tugging at his lips.

"So?" Luke questions taking another sip

Dawson and John exchange a look, "Give us details?!" Dawson encourages

Luke rests his elbow on the table, and locks eyes with his teammates before letting out a simple "No"

Dawson, John and Nate's mouths dramatically drop, as if Luke just informed them that he's the notorious Zodiac Killer.

"Luke!' Dawson exclaims

"Aw, come on!" John protests, a good-natured grin on his face. "You can't leave us hanging like that. Did you get her number? Are you gonna see her again?"

"Maybe," Luke replies, a hint of mystery in his voice.

Nate leans forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, what's her name? Come on, you gotta give us something, man."

Luke takes a sip of his beer, a small smile playing on his lips. "Her name's Jordan, and that's all you're getting out of me tonight."

"Jordan, huh?" Dawson repeats, waggling his eyebrows. "And what does this mystery girl do? Is she a student? A model? A secret agent?"

Luke chuckles, shaking his head. "She's a student, but that's all I'm saying. You guys are worse than a bunch of gossiping old ladies."

"Hey, we're just looking out for our boy," John defends, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "We gotta make sure she's good enough for our rookie."

"Trust me, she's more than good enough," Luke assures them, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Ooh, sounds like someone's smitten!" Nate teases, reaching over to ruffle Luke's hair.

Luke swats his hand away, laughing. "Shut up, I am not. It was one game of pool and I had a good time, that's all."

"One game of pool that lasted, what, two hours?" Dawson teases, giving Luke a playful shove. "Face it, Hughesy, you're smitten."

Luke rolls his eyes, but before he can retort, Jack stands up and stretches. "Alright, boys, as much as I'd love to sit here and watch you interrogate my little brother all night, we should probably head out."

A chorus of groans rises from the table, but the guys begrudgingly agree. They settle their tab and say their goodbyes, each one giving Luke a final nudge or wink before heading out into the night.

As Jack and Luke step outside, the cool night air hits them, a refreshing change from the stuffy bar. They walk side by side, hands shoved in their pockets, the silence between them comfortable and familiar.

After a few moments, Jack glances over at his brother, a small smile on his face. "So, this Jordan girl," he begins, his tone casual. "She seems to have made quite an impression on you."

Luke ducks his head, feeling a flush creep up his neck. "Yeah, I guess she did," he admits, kicking a pebble along the sidewalk. "I don't know, man, there's just something about her. It's like... like we just clicked, you know?"

Jack nods, a look of understanding on his face. "I get it," he says, a note of wistfulness in his voice. "When you meet someone special, it's like everything just falls into place."

They walk in silence for a few more blocks, each lost in their own thoughts. As they approach their apartment building, Jack turns to Luke, a serious expression on his face.

"Just be careful, okay?" he says, his tone gentle but firm. "I know you're excited about this girl, and I'm happy for you, I really am. But don't forget who you are, and what you're here to do."

Luke meets his brother's gaze, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "I know," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's just... it's nice to feel normal for once, you know? To just be Luke, not Luke Hughes, the hockey player."

Jack puts a hand on his brother's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I get it," he says, a hint of a smile on his face. "And you deserve that, Luke. You deserve to be happy, both on and off the ice. Just don't lose sight of what's important, okay?"

Luke nods, feeling a surge of gratitude for his brother's support and understanding. "Thanks, Jack," he says, bumping his shoulder against his brother's as they enter the building.

As they ride the elevator up to their floor, Luke can't help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him.

Meanwhile, across the Hudson River, Jordan steps out of her Uber, the upscale apartment building looming before her. She thanks the driver and makes her way through the lobby, the click of her shoes echoing off the polished floors, as she makes her way to an apartment door.

As she enters she's greeted by the sight of hockey memorabilia adorning the walls, a New York Rangers jersey bearing her brother's name and number taking center stage.

Careful not to wake Jacob and his wife, Jordan tiptoes to her room, a soft smile playing on her lips as she replays the evening's events in her mind. She goes through her nightly routine, the familiarity of it soothing after the excitement of the night.

Settling into bed, Jordan reaches for her phone, the screen illuminating her face in the darkened room. She opens her messages and starts a new conversation with Luke, her fingers dancing across the keyboard.

Hey, it's Jordan. I had a great time tonight. We should do it again sometime :)

With a satisfied grin, she hits send and places her phone on the nightstand, letting the promise of future adventures lull her to sleep.

#luke hughes #nj devils #jack hughes #hughes brothers #quinn hughes #original story #crossing enemy lines #ny rangers #jacob trouba

[evilkennedy]

Midnight Visitor

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of blood (brief), mentions of guns and violence, slight fluff me thinks

Word Count: 3.1k +

Requested: Nope! Came straight from this noggin of mine.

Summary: You’re injured on a case and Hotch blames himself? I’m bad at descriptions and titles bear with me.

You want to pretend like you know why you can’t sleep, mind preoccupied with the knowledge that you could’ve easily died… Of course you hadn’t, but there were always questions as to whether or not you could have should anything within the scenario have shifted even slightly. What would have happened should you have not stepped in front of the gun? Hotch would have been shot instead. What would have happened if the unsub held his gun slightly higher, a quarter of an inch further to the right…? If you weren’t undercover, if you had worn your vest, if Aaron had worn his— etcetera.

Your room is dark and your gaze rests on the ceiling, illuminated by the moonlight alone. It wasn’t that late, despite not looking at the clock or your phone, you’d known that much. Well aware of how much time was passing you by as you rested your weary bones. You’d been… ready. To give up; to let the bullet finish the job and take your life. Before Hotch had arrived at the scene, only a few houses down from where you’d been undercover, feigning the lives of a newly wedded couple, you’d been more than roughed up. You were barely aware of the way you’d gotten back up on your feet at his arrival, adrenaline taking over as the man that you'd come to care for, much more than what was normal between a boss and employee, was threatened. You could feel his gaze on you, even as you laid in your bed now, the way he silently pleaded you to get out of the way, to let him handle the rest— to stall him until the other agents got there, but you weren’t having it. Not only would you never forgive yourself for remaining idle and losing him, losing whatever potential relationship you so deeply hoped to develop, you’d never forgive yourself for allowing Jack to go without another parent, to lose him the same way he’d lost Haley. Even as you’d considered it now, your throat constricted with metaphorical barbed wire, you’re certain you wouldn’t have done anything different.

You sigh, closing your aching eyes against the phantom vibration of a gunshot soaring through the air. You’d still go through it a million times over to ensure that Hotch would remain alive, safe and sound. Even if that meant he was angry with you for now. Your chest seized with pain, more so at the idea that you’d ruined everything that the two of you had built between the other, the trust, the affection, the concern, the honesty, all of it, less than of any medical affliction or after effects of the trauma. Part of you wanted to message him, to tell him that you were sorry for not following his orders or for anything else he might be angry over except for the fact that it had been you instead of him. You refused to let him mourn over the fact that you’d gotten injured in his place, for his safety, but you knew that’s where his mind had been since. He hadn’t texted or called or even come by, and you wonder how correct that assessment had been. Would he be angry if you messaged now? The thought makes you feel ridiculous and you ignore it, succumbing to the sleep that had been threatening to pull you under since the sun had set. The last thought on your mind was of glazed hazel eyes and large trembling hands.

Aaron looks between you and the unsub, attempting to keep his gaze calculated and professional, but he hasn't been able to keep steady without knowing the extent of your condition. All he could tell was that it was bad. He doesn’t think you can stand, almost hopes that you can’t stand. If you stayed down, he could keep the attention off of you and onto him. He refused to lose someone else at the hands of a narcissistic psychopath. His heart skips a beat when he notices the way you make an attempt to push yourself up, only to lose your momentum part of the way up, falling back into the floor.

You hear him call your name, it’s quiet, a warning. You could tell it was a command, one in which you took as a suggestion, knowing exactly what kind of violence the unsub was capable of. You couldn’t allow him to be on the receiving end of that force, not when you were on your last leg. You were certain this would be the end for you and it didn’t have to be the end for him. You feel as though you imagined the panic laced in his tone, sheer anxiety gripping at his vocal chords as he pleads that you stay down, eyes glossy with the promise of unshed tears.

“Upset that I’ve discovered you both, Agent?” The unsub’s voice sounds like venom, hateful and acidic and cruel, his methodology had been specific, calculated— Aaron had never been more terrified than he was now and it wasn’t for his own life.

“I think you’ve got the wrong idea… you’re confused.” He was unarmed, at least physically. He’d have to stick with the profile for now, belittle the man so that he’d focus all of his anger and attention on him. You wish he’d stop talking and get to a safe place, but you weren’t naive enough to believe he’d get out of here unscathed, even if you could stand. Still, you worked on mustering every ounce of strength into your arms, hoping that you can pull yourself up before it was too late. You were well aware of your supervisor’s agenda.

“You know very well that I’m not confused, just like I know you’ve got something to live for while this one…” He gestures vaguely to you with his gun, “Doesn’t.”

He doesn’t allow Aaron to consider a response before speaking again, “I would almost think you’re a failure like me, making mistakes and losing the person you loved way earlier than you needed to, don’t look at me like that.” Hotch is glaring, defensive and tense. The unsub continues regardless, trying to get under his skin, “But something about the way you stand, the way you look and behave, you’ve got kids, huh? You’re a dad and after you fucked up with their mom or whoever, you place all of your worth in what you can do for them, huh? You think you’re so good and so righteous, playing the hero, saving the damsel in distress, but you’re no better than me. I know you think I’m a low life, but there’s purpose in what I do. Just like there’s purpose in you. I see it.”

It makes Aaron feel absolutely sick. He’d always hated when these unsalvageable, soulless bastards would sympathize with him like they understood the weight that rested on his shoulders, like they understood his pain. He knew they never would, not in the same way, not if he killed you now. He doesn’t let him speak again.

“You’re pathetic. I’m nothing like you. You’re nothing like me, you never will be. You get off on killing married couples, taking away something you could never have and that is love isn’t it? You’ll never be loved because you’re too fucking self absorbed to see that no one is as interested in you as you are in of yourself. You’re so mediocre, Kenny. You’re ordinary and worthless and you think you’re righteous because of what you do but you have never been more wrong, this is the work of a coward and a bully.” He’s shaking from rage, but he can feel the relief of having the gun pointed at himself instead of you. He’s no longer paying attention to your form on the ground, and he continues, egging on the angered man even further, hoping that the rest of the unit would arrive soon. They were in his ear saying as much.

“But you know that, don’t you? You’ve spent your entire life trying to prove yourself, to your mom and your dad and friends, partners, coworkers, hell, even strangers. You’ve been ignored and honestly, it’s for very good reason. You were never more than a pawn in someone else’s game and even now you’re going to go down and no one will remember you for the senseless crimes you’ve committed, you’re no Jeffrey Dahmer-“ With that, he knows he has said too much, riled him up too far, but he doesn’t even flinch when the gun goes off. He does, however, fly into action once the rest of the agents surround the small building they’d been in. He isn’t sure why he doesn’t feel the sting of a gunshot wound to the hip until he notices your body, now unmoving on the ground below him. He allows Morgan to apprehend the killer, knees giving way to his trembling as he falls to the ground beside you, immediately placing his larger hands on top of the gunshot wound that was meant for him.

He has to fight through tears, not willing to appear distressed as he makes an attempt to comfort you.

“Hey, you’re okay.” He can’t smile, even as you do. You’re content with knowing he’s safe, it hadn’t hit him instead. You were barely sure of what had happened yourself until you were lying in a puddle of your own cooling blood. You could barely feel it as you shivered, gaze fixed on Aaron. You want to tell him that you’re not okay and that he will be. You want to tell him not to blame himself, but as your mouth fills with copper you find that all you can do is tilt to the side to spit it out.

Your chest heaves and he has already called for medics and for someone to please just help, but you’d been so out of your mind that you didn’t hear it. You shake your head, tears falling freely from your eyes, either from the shock or from the pain, you weren’t entirely sure.

“Why would you do that? You were already so hurt, God, I-“ He stops, focuses on pressing against your wound again. It was bad, you could both tell. So this time, you force yourself to say something— anything to urge him into feeling a bit better or just a bit less guilty even if the attempt was futile.

“C-Couldn’t- You have J-Jack.” That would have to do. Your eyes were barely opened and you could feel your breaths slowing down, teeth clattering as you shivered, cold either from the blood loss or the wooden floor beneath you. Most likely both.

His eyes furrow together, multiple emotions pass over his features at once, you focus on the warmth of his hands against your abdomen, wishing that he’d relax his eyebrows or smile. Anything that wasn’t showing how utterly terrified he was of losing you. You just supposed you would have to be okay with seeing his face under any circumstances, and you would have to be because you begin to lose consciousness soon after that.

“No, no.” He speaks your name, it’s desperate but not in the way you’d been waiting for your entire career, it was bargaining, begging for you to stay. “Please don’t sleep yet, tell me something.”

While you want to, your tongue feels like lead in your mouth and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You didn’t know if you’d ever be waking up again.

———————————

You roll over, groaning at the noise that you hear from the living room of your apartment. It brings you fully back into the waking world, and despite looking over at your phone to see that it’s midnight, you’re happy to have been woken up from that particular dream. It was the last time you’d seen Aaron and you didn’t need to feel that guilt in your sleep as it had already been enough during the waking hours of the day.

You bury your face into the pillow, blinking away tears that threatened to fall. Another noise from the living room echoes through your hallway and this time, you think it’s a knock. You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion, thinking that it had been your pet to make that noise originally, but that second knock had sounded awfully like someone being at the door. You sit up, slipping on your slippers as you walk through the apartment, not sure of anyone that would be knocking on your door at this hour. You almost wanted to grab the gun that you’d kept in the kitchen by the door, but you resort to looking out of the peephole first. You’re shocked to see a disheveled looking Hotch at your door, and the ache in your body at seeing him makes you pause. You almost don’t want to open the door. You knew he visited you while you were out of commission in the hospital but he hadn’t seen you awake yet. He didn’t come by after you woke up and you didn’t hear or see anything of him. You barely understood why he stood at your door now, but you unlock it, opening it slowly so as to not bother your injured shoulder.

“Hotch.” You breathe out his name, almost choking on the syllables. The way he looks at you, still in his suit from work, has you weak, your eyes water upon seeing him standing in front of you. He looks so relieved and so worried at the same time, pretty hazel eyes filled to the brim with emotion.

He breathes out your name in response. Not your last name, not something professional, but your first name. It sounds so good coming from him and you just want to pull him into a hug, to apologize for being so reckless, just as he wanted to lecture you for the same. Upon seeing you, especially in the condition that you were in, he couldn’t. He could, however, admire how beautiful you still looked. His gaze wracks your entire frame and it pulls a blush out of you. It’s not sensual or lustful, but one of concern and remorse, you invite him in.

Closing the door behind him, you speak again, “I haven’t… I was worried that you were mad at me.” It feels lame to say, there’s so much more to be worried about, but that’s all that you can think to say now that he’s here.

Hotch has already hesitantly walked into your dark apartment, leaning against the small wall that separated your kitchen from the doorway, you can see how tense his shoulders are, even in the dim lighting.

He shakes his head, putting down his go bag before turning in your direction. You hadn’t dared to move from the position you’d welcomed him in, scared of what’s to come. You almost hope that it’s a lecture because you aren’t sure that you can handle the gentler tone he usually takes with you right now.

“At that moment, I was terrified.” He punctuates the end of the sentence with a whisper of your name. It’s coated with so much fear and anxiety and all you want to do is take it all away, ease it any way that you knew how, but instead, you listened.

“All I could see was your blood coating my hands… You were… cold to the touch, breathing, but so close to death that if I closed my eyes it was almost like holding Haley’s limp body to mine again. If I had done anything different in that moment or even before— you would’ve slipped through my fingertips before I even had the chance to tell you that you are the world to me. I would have done anything, and I still would do anything, to assure that you made it home in one piece, but I- I failed.” Towards the end of his rambling, his voice became more unstable, no doubt because tears welled up in his eyes as his throat thickened from the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

“I didn’t visit because if I did I would have said that I loved you, but putting that on anyone feels like a damn curse.” He lets out a humorless laugh and that’s when you step into action, walking a few slow steps forward to look him in the eyes. He’s a bit taller than you and you’re glad that your non-dominant hand was injured so that you could bring your dominant hand to cup his cheek. He leans into your touch as you wipe the tears away.

“Oh, Aaron.” You don’t look at him with pity, more so a melancholic fondness, one of great understanding and love. You smile at him, your own tears welling up in your eyes as you blink them away.

“Your love couldn’t be so much farther from a curse.” There’s more you need to say, more that the two of you would have to work on if you went from here, but you’d relish this moment, even as it’s tinged with a sort of despair. It feels Shakespearean in portrayal.

“It was my decision to take that bullet, Aaron. Not yours. I was… I already didn’t think I was going to make it and I wasn’t going to let Jack grow up without his father too.” He sighs, hand coming up to rest atop the one you kept firmly against his cheek, thumb caressing the height of the bone there.

“I know that it scared you, it scared me too, and I’m sorry for being so reckless, I didn’t mean to make you feel like a failure.” You pause, “You’re anything but, and I wish you could see that for yourself. Haley’s death and my injuries aren’t on you.” You both knew that it would take some time for the other to heal, you’d both been through entirely too much shit to be considered normal, but you always had the other. And now that you both knew the extent of what that meant for each of you, and how that felt, this could be a new beginning.

Aaron nods, finally feeling like he can breathe again. “Can I stay?” He knows the answer, but he asks anyway.

You nod easily, “Please.” You go to remove your hand from his face, but he grasps it in his own, taking a moment to give your palm a kiss before bringing it down between the two of you. You take this as an opportunity to lead him into your room with his go bag so that he can change into whatever he has brought. The air feels lighter and you know that everything will be okay with time. No matter what, you’ll figure it out together.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #fluff #hurtcomfort #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner whump #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #gn reader #female reader #male reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x y/n #y/n isn’t used #how many more tags do I need