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crushedbyhyperbole · 2 months

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Whiskey on the Tongue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.

It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.

I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.

Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.

*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***

Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg. It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.

The door to his room in the bunker was closed. Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it. You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book. The very book that was in your hands right now.

“I need that book back, Dean.” Sam grumbled.

“Not now, Sammy!” Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.

“I’m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean. It’s important.” Sam became more insistent.

“I said NOT NOW, SAM!” Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.

Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away. Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed. Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee. You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.

He was going to hell. Straight there. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. And he probably deserved it.

He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans. If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room. Bobby was always protective of you, his niece. You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.

“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped. Do you hear me, boy?”

Bobby Singer. That man did not mince his words. And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel. Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.

You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg. The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.

Dean decided he could die like this. If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.

He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.

It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk. You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells. You said he quieted the noise in your head. Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home. You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way. Not that slutty was bad. Dean liked slutty. But that wasn’t you, you were different.

A drink. That’s what was missing. Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.

He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions. A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.

The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move. Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.

“Where’s yours?”

The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.

“Don’t pout.” You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.

Dean’s jaw went slack. The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry. He had never seen you like this.

You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside. He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.

Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid. You leaned in.

Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt. You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way. The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were. His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.

He refused to lick where you had been. He couldn’t. As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…

“Don’t.” He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.

You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt. He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.

“Bobby…” Was all he could say through his constricting throat.

You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”

Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain. The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan. He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.

His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled. He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.

Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths. He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them. Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening. Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this. You had intended this from the beginning.

He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down. Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.

Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy. You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.

While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped. You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time. You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat. You weren’t disappointed.

Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal. Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other. Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet. Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare. Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”

You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot. Fuck, he was good with his tongue. Everything about him was good except his image. Bad boy Dean Winchester. He was every woman’s wet dream. He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen. But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.

Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid. Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.

Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot. You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life. He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm. When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down. He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while. You were a beautiful mess.

“That’s my girl.” He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself. “Are you ready for me?”

You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.

From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it. He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.

When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms. It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you. You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have. Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this. God, he hoped not.

Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips. His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.

“Tell me what you need.” He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.

“Just you, like this.” You sighed. Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.

His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it. It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on. He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.

You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you. When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.

Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.

“Shot.” You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.

He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said: What can I say? I don’t miss.

When you moved to sit, he stopped you.

“Here, lemme get that.”

“Thanks.”

He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs. Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved. Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest. You were both content. Both had goofy grins on your faces. Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.

A loud knock at the door started you.

“Are you done?” Sam said. “I need that book.”

“NO!” You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.

“Bobby’s gonna kill you.” Sam called back through the door.

“I KNOW!” Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.

There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again. In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.

Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name. Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #dean winchester fic #cloudy's writing #my first spn fic

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mokulule · 6 months

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A Man has Needs part 1

This will hopefully be a short thing, maybe three or four parts. Silly with a small dash of angst for flavor. Also someone needs to stop me from starting new stories, instead of indulging my insanity.

Ship: Dead on Main (Jason/Danny)

It had been an exhausting Friday, people were out celebrating the weekend and payday both. To top it off it was prime petty crime weather too with no rain. It was a patrol that would never end. Crime Alley had really lived up to its name tonight.

Jason was exhausted. Not because anything had been particularly challenging or dangerous, but it had just been one very long night of constant stupid little crimes.

It was five in the morning and his bed was calling him. He’d already stashed his gear in storage on the roof and he was so close to being home he could practically feel the soft sheets, the promise of sleep. The open bathroom window was a bother when he was this tired. Maybe he should have just gone down to the street and walked in the door, but keys also seemed like such a bother right now and more stairs… No, window was fine, he was in.

Bed. Now.

He bumped into something outside the bathroom door. Fuzzily he looked down to see a moving box - odd. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, he’d deal with that in the morning. Bed, comfort, safe.

He stumbled into the bedroom when it turned out the door wasn’t properly shut just pushed mostly closed.

Okay check list. Boots off. What else? Pants off, shirt off. He’d pick up in the morning. Did he forget anything? Toothbrush. He glanced backwards halfheartedly, he’d already left the bathroom; bed was right there.

The bed won. Tomorrow he would deal with teeth.

Tomorrow…

He crawled under the sheets. Warm and nice and safe and mmmmh he snuggled closer to the source, breathing in mint and something biting like frosty morning air. His nose buried into soft short hair and breathed in deep again. Good. Amazing. Safe. Sated.

Sleep.

Oo o oO

Danny turned and stretched with a yawn. He frowned when something held him into place. Must have gotten himself caught in the sheets again. It wasn’t a problem, he just slipped away intangibly, rolling to the edge of the bed to reach blindly for the night table.

Where was the phone? It took him a moment but finally it connected with his hand.

He groaned when he saw the time, it was nearly midday. Jazz would frown at him for already messing his sleep schedule up, but he’d just wanted to get as much set up in his apartment as possible, that had to be an okay excuse? He turned back on his back and looked at the light dancing across the ceiling from the light breeze moving the curtains.   Okay time to get up. He had another day of unpacking today.

He got out and stretched absently. He turned around intending to make his bed if only to look responsible for when Jazz would come later to see the apartment.

He turned and promptly clapped his hands over his mouth to contain the frightened scream.

There was a guy in his bed! How was there a guy in his bed?! Ancients, what the fuck?!

Wait.

Danny tilted his head, eyes trailed down the muscular and scarred back, to a well shaped butt, which the tight boxers did very little to hide, and then those thighs!

There was a hot guy in Danny’s bed!

Focus Danny. He shook his head and slapped himself for good measure. That wasn’t what was important right now - though those thighs… Ancients, Danny would happily die again crushed by them.

No!

What was important was somehow there was a (hot) stranger in his bed. Danny had not invited him, of that he was sure. He had been unpacking yesterday, there had been no consumption of ghost zone alcohol yesterday, which could otherwise explain the lack of memory.

Which meant the guy had for some reason entered Danny’s apartment and slept with him - in the boring ordinary sense, Danny lamented this fact quietly for a moment.

Danny wasn’t surprised he hadn’t woken up, he slept, well, like the dead. The only thing that would wake him was very loud noises (like his alarm or his Dad’s inside voice) or occasionally his ghost sense.

It wasn’t even that Danny was surprised to find a bedmate. It was rare that Danny slept alone these days. He was, no matter how you put it, a very powerful ghost and he gave off a lot of good concentrated ambient ectoplasm.

Sometime last year the blobs and animal ghosts in Amity had started to join him every now and then when he slept. According to Frostbite it wasn’t so strange. They fed on the energy he gave off and also benefitted from his presence, which apparently radiated safety.

At first he’d been woken up by his ghost sense every time, but he’d gotten to a point where he just subconsciously dismissed the sense when the ghosts in question didn’t have ill intentions.

So Danny wasn’t surprised he wasn’t alone. He’d expected a bit more time to pass before whatever weak ghosts might be around figured out he was here, but you don’t wake up six days out of seven with cuddly animal ghosts in your bed and get surprised by it.

No, Danny was surprised by the fact that it was a guy. A human. A person. With muscled arms and- Oh, Danny realized cheeks heating up, that probably hadn’t been the sheets he’d been stuck in earlier.

Danny covered his face with his hands and groaned in despair.

Why was there a guy in his bed? Why couldn’t there be a guy in his bed for normal reasons? Danny would have brought this guy to his bed for normal bringing a guy to bed reasons.

He crawled onto the bed intending to wake the stranger, but as he reached out for the guy’s shoulder he turned leaning into the touch and sighed like the weight of the world had just lifted off his shoulders.

Danny was frozen, staring at the point of contact. He could sense it now: the man’s malnourished ghost core.

Danny swallowed thickly, suddenly seeing the many scars on the man’s back in a different light and that pure white streak in the otherwise black hair, it all seemed so obvious now.

The man was a halfa, or halfa adjacent. Because that was definitely warm human flesh underneath Danny’s hand.

So incredibly, unbelievably, absurdly this was essentially the same situation as usual, except not at all, because this was a person. Humanoid ghosts and ghosts with human-like or above intelligence didn’t do this. There were social conventions in place and not to mention they were usually powerful enough on their own to not need the ectoplasm.

But this guy was malnourished. He probably never had a good stable source of ectoplasm to properly develop his metabolism. Also to Danny’s metaphysical senses he smelled like he’d done the ghostly equivalent of dumpster diving to survive. Danny’s ectoplasmic aura had to be like the siren call of a buffet table.

Shit.

New plan. Danny was not gonna embarrass the poor guy. The situation was weird enough as it was. Danny was just gonna act like this was normal. Danny woke up with guests practically every day.

This was a person, not an animal, therefore petting was out of the question, so coffee.

Coffee was normal to offer guests. Also Danny needed coffee. He nodded to himself in satisfaction and floated off the bed to enter his combined kitchen and living room. The coffee machine was the first thing he got set up yesterday, clearly smart of past Danny.

It wouldn’t be long before his guest awoke with Danny no longer in the room to supply passive ectoplasm.

Maybe his human stomach wanted food too?

Oo o oO

Jason woke up with his head and nose buried in a pillow that smelled wonderful and comfortable somehow. He breathed in deep, catching mint and that biting cold he vaguely remembered from last night. Now, however he wasn’t dead on his feet, he was awake, more rested than he remember feeling for a long time and his brain connected the details into very alarming facts:

This was not his pillow. This was not his bed.

He sat up, quickly taking in the bare white walls and the stack of emptied and flattened moving boxes leaning against the wall next to a built-in closet.

This was very much not his apartment.

There was a noise of a cupboard clanging shut and Jason’s head snapped to the door that was open just a crack; he was not alone.

Shit.

He jumped out of bed, bending his knees upon impact to soften the sound. He needed to leave. Where was his clothes? His gaze darted around and he hurried to pick up his discarded items of clothing as he found them. Somehow one of his boots had ended up under the bed.

Quickly he pulled on the jeans and the shirt, was he wearing a jacket yesterday? He didn’t remember. Boots on and then he was going out the window- except there was the scent of coffee and something in the air. What was that smell?

He found himself moving to the door instead. The door squeaked as he pulled it open and he froze, hand still on the door handle, when the sound drew the attention of the young man in the kitchen.

His hair was black and sleep tousled, he had a slender athletic build and as he walked around the kitchen island bearing two cups it became apparent he was just wearing boxers. Jason’s inspection ended on his legs, which were admittedly very nice. When he looked back up he found the man standing a cautious distance away and a cute pink blush stretched all the way from his cheeks to his chest. Sky blue eyes looked up a him from underneath slightly frowning brows.

“So, you’re awake,” the man opened with an admirable attempt at a smile considering the situation. There was a beat of silence in which Jason grasped for what to even say, then the man reached his hand forward offering one of the cups, “coffee?”

There were many a thing Jason could say or should say. Like, what the fuck? You’re just gonna offer the guy who broke into your apartment coffee? Or, I’m sorry I broke into your apartment (and bed!)? And, why do you sleep with your windows open and unlocked? This is freaking Crime Alley! Or, what is it that smells so good?

What he actually said was a quiet, “yes, please.”

The cup was warm in his hands as he sipped it. And clearly this was enough for the cute guy because his smile turned more real and he nodded to himself and walked back to the kitchen counter. Jason really hoped that didn’t mean the coffee was poisoned.

“Feel free to take a seat. I hope you like pop tarts, it’s kinda all that I have at the moment.” As if summoned the toaster made a swish noise popping up the tarts.   Hesitantly Jason sat down at the small square table paired with two mismatched foldable chairs. He really should turn and jump out a window. There had to be some kind of reckoning coming. Maybe the guy really cared about hospitality and Jason would be questioned after the food? Maybe that’s what was going on.

But also strangely his gut was telling him he was safe here? He really had no clue what to do with that.  A paper plate with a pop tart was set down in front of him and after setting down his own pop tart and coffee the man joined him.

Jason was supremely aware of the few inches between their knees. This wasn’t a large table after all and if he moved just slightly they would be touching. But why would he want them to be touching? Why was it so tempting?

Jason clenched his hands firmly and stared down at the pop tart, with an intensity born of the fact that for some reason he had to focus on not knocking knees with a stranger.

“You look at that poor pop tart as if you think it’s gonna explode, that’s not actually what pop tart means, you know.”

Jason looked up at the guy in disbelief.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah that was terrible I know.”

Silence stretched between them and clearly embarrassed the guy hastily took a sip of his coffee and a bite of his pop tart avoiding Jason’s gaze.

Guilt twisted in Jason’s chest, not only did he invade his home he was also making him uncomfortable. His only comfort was the fact that the guy clearly wasn’t afraid of him.

Jason started eating the pop tart. For whatever the reason breakfast was part of the script the guy had decided on to make an attempt at normalcy. What else was Jason to do? He hadn’t fled when he had the chance and-

Oh-

The guy had shifted in his chair, one of their knees were touching, there was a spark and it felt like something uncurled inside him, a weight lifted. Jason blinked. This was…Mint and frost was a sting in his nose, a fullness in his chest. Goose bumps ran along his arms, and it tingled all the way to his fingertips.

Jason snapped his head up, but the guy was just looking at his phone sipping his coffee. As if he couldn’t feel the cold electricity between them. There was no way he could sit like that if he felt it? Was Jason just imagining it? He shuddered and moved slightly, just enough that they weren’t touching and instantly he regretted it. The wave of longing was almost enough to make his vision black out.

The guy looked up with a frown. “You okay, man?”

“Fine,” Jason said hoarsely, desperately focusing on the half eaten pop tart and taking another bite.

When the pop tarts were eaten and the cups emptied the man stood and Jason matched him. Jason wasn’t sure what he expected to happen at this point but it certainly wasn’t the guy, to walk over to his front door with a casual, “well I should get ready for the day.”  It was a clear dismissal. An out for the whole strange situation. Jason stood up and walked over to the door.

The guy opened the door letting Jason out with a short electrifying clap on the back and a “Take care, man.”

Jason was left standing outside the door to the previously empty apartment 4A, several floors below Jason’s own top floor apartment. How did he ever mistake it for his own?

What was the deal with the guy’s touch and why did Jason crave it so desperately?

Unsettled. he started walking towards the stairwell. As he moved further away from the apartment the pull to go back lessened. It was still there, but it was replaced quickly by something else.

He felt rested, energized in a way he hadn’t felt in a long while. There was an urge to do something. He felt like he could take on the world - maybe even Sunday dinner at the manor tomorrow.

Jason laughed. Wouldn’t that surprise everyone?

He was so caught up in the euphoria of productivity and social interactions that didn’t go sour for the next couple of days, that he completely forgot about the strange Saturday morning.

If you liked this consider telling me your thoughts in the replies or tags, it is motivating. Now to hopefully write a bit on Catnip.

#dp x dc #dead on main #a man has needs #Danny is trying his best to pretend this is normal #and okay #Jason has no clue whatsoever.

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flowerandblood · 1 month

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Glass Cuts Deepest Epilogue

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment and panic attacks, the power of fluff ]

[ description: Aemond and Wright have a year of their relationship behind them, full of joy, but also difficult situations for them, related to demons from his past. Despite this, they find their own ways to live normally and happily. Aemond, jealous that Cregan is now her professor, decides to find out if the girl who changed his life still loves him. Sexual tension, childhood traumas and sweet fluff. ]

This oneshot is the events that take place one year after Glass Cuts Deepest Series. This is a special chapter written to celebrate my one year on this platform, which falls on March 22.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

When a year had passed since he and Wright had officially announced that they were together, he was relieved to find that his panic attacks had almost disappeared, and if they did occur, they no longer involved vomiting and convulsions, causing only discomfort and a feeling of tightness in his stomach.

Wright was perfectly capable of recognising its symptoms, spotting instantly when he froze or turned pale, not touching him at the time, just asking quietly if he needed a moment alone or if he would like her to embrace him.

More and more often he wanted to simply cuddle up to her, so he would then ask her to let him, but not to touch him herself. He would then draw her close and sink his face into her neck, taking in her wonderful scent, listening to her breathing until he calmed down.

"− I'm sorry −" He mumbled then, ashamed that, as usual, he thought he had got it over with, that it was so good after all. He fought then against the grim thoughts that he would never be normal, that she had to live with someone who didn't cope, who was constantly afraid.

"− don't apologise −" She whispered softly, resting her cheek on his head, playing with the fingers of her hand, waiting patiently for him to be able to function normally again.

"− I'm glad that now when you feel unwell, you don't feel discomfort when I'm close − it's very important to me −" She said warmly, kissing his hair, and he felt his muscles relax slowly, the fact that she never made sudden movements, never tried to embrace him against his will, made him feel safe.

She respected the fact that he knew for himself what was good for him and what he needed, and she never forced him into anything, on the contrary, she always carefully studied his barriers.

Once when she showed him a picture of a nightgown, finding it lovely and pretty, white, lacy and strapless, of slippery, shiny material, he turned pale and shook his head quickly, looking away, seeing her enter his room then, what she was wearing was all too similar in his mind, a cold sweat on his back.

"− oh, I'm sorry − I won't show you this kind of things anymore − I just − I'd like to buy myself some nice pyjamas − the kind you'd like −" She muttered, looking up at him, turning on the couch, he sighed quietly, rubbing her bare legs that rested on his thighs.

"− I like it when you wear my Tshirts − nothing turns me on more −" He hummed, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, seeing her blush as she lay dressed in his black shirt covering her thighs, he knew she had nothing but panties underneath, just the way he liked it.

"− oh −" She mumbled quietly, embarrassed, pretending to scroll something further on her phone.

Since he had left the university and focused on his own studio, he felt that the immense frustration that had been with him all those years, of having to deal with strange women, having to constantly explain his decisions and apologise for the way he was, had left him.

In his new workshop, more spacious and brighter than the one he had worked in before, he felt free, and the only girl who was allowed inside was Wright.

Sometimes he couldn't help himself and would ask her how Cregan was doing in his job, seeing that she was progressing more and more each month, jealous that now someone else was her professor, she was spending a lot of time in class which was hard for him to come to terms with after they had spent so much time in each other's company up to that point.

"He is a really good teacher. He has a lot of patience and explains complicated things so that they seem simple, or he shows us something by doing it himself and we can watch." She said lightly, standing beside him, helping him cut out templates for his new commission, which he was working on with some of his former students he had hired. He hit the side of her cheek with the tip of his tongue, impatient for some reason.

"That's good." He replied dispassionately, feeling her cast him a quick glance upon hearing the tone of his voice, leaning lower to bend forward and look at his face.

"Are you jealous, Professor?" She hummed softly and he pressed his lips together, recognising that he hadn't given a shit, that he'd wanted to do this for a long time.

She squealed quietly as he grabbed her by the arm and turned her around facing the backlit table, his hands slid her panties down in a swift, sure movement, leaving her in a state of shock, his hand on the nape of her neck forced her to bend over, the material of her dress lifted slightly, revealing her naked buttocks, he noticed out of the corner of his eye her entrance, glistening from her wetness.

She was his Eve, and although neither of them had ever completely undressed, and he wasn't sure he would ever be able to do so or endure such a sight without the memories overwhelming him, the sight of her partial nudity no longer frightened him, for her body was his temple, pure, warm and safe.

"− I've been thinking about this ever since I met you − you don't even know how many times I've stood over you barely restraining myself from fucking you good on a table like this −" He breathed out, quickly unzipping his trousers, lowering them a tad once with his boxers, not waiting a moment, forcing the swollen head of his cock between her puffy, weeping folds.

"− wider − that's it − fuck − are you okay? −" He muttered, casting her an uncertain look after he thrust deeper into her, sliding all the way in, her tight walls resisting him as he hadn't prepared her for this as well as usual.

"− y-yes − keep going − just − take it slow −" She mumbled softly, and he hummed under his breath, leaning down, placing his hands on either side of her on the backlit top of his table on which he usually cut glass, his lips pressed against her long, perfumed neck as his hips began to rock slowly inside her, barely sliding out of her without any rush, letting her get used to his size.

"− so warm − fuck, baby −" He gasped out, hearing her first shy moans, feeling his cock slide into her with increasing ease, slick with her moisture, her muscles began to throb around him, squeezing him, he looked down, watching as he opened her wide with deep, sure thrusts of his hips.

"− please, Professor − please −" She mewled and he sighed loudly, she knew how it affected him, she knew how much it aroused him, involuntarily he picked up his pace, his thighs began to slam against her buttocks with loud splats, all around them just their panting and the sticky clicks of her leaking wetness.

"− you have no shame − begging for your professor's cock − is this how you got good grades at university? huh? − you like it when they fuck you well? −" He sneered, clamping his hands over her bare buttocks, letting go of control completely, allowing his subconscious to take over him and his movements, his pushes faster and more aggressive, rubbing her where she needed it. She leaned back on her palms against the table top, responding to his thrusts by rocking her hips, her hot, wet muscles sucking him inside with her moans of delight.

"− n-no − I work so hard −" She muttered frightened, as if some part of her really believed he could think that about her, he chuckled under his breath, running his hand through her hair, pounding into her so fast and deep that he was no longer sliding out of her with loud slaps of skin against skin.

"− I can see how hard you're working − how much it costs you to fit it in −" He scoffed, and she whimpered at his words, responding more and more eagerly to his thrusts, his knee spreading her thighs wider, forcing her to bend over again with her loud gasp of exertion.

"− I-I'm sorry − I promise I'll be good already, I promise, I promise, I promise −" She mewled, moaning low as he felt her muscles begin to throb in orgasm, her body arching backwards, he embraced her around the waist, his other hand gripping her cheeks, his lips pressed against hers in an aggressive, greedy, hot kiss as, after a few sloppy, messy thrusts, he came deep inside her with a heavy sigh of delight.

"− I know − my sweet little girl, am I right? −" He gasped, panting loudly along with her, embracing her tightly from behind, nuzzling his cheek against hers, her hands clasped around his arms, stroking them steadily, his half-hard manhood still twitching deep inside her.

"− yes −" She mumbled, burying her face in his cheek, as she always did after their rapprochement, needing his closeness and the tenderness he never denied her.

"− you don't think of him that way, do you? −" He asked quietly, ashamed of his insecurity, of his own fear and imaginings, of the fact that someone else, someone better could easily take his place at her side when he needed her so much, loved her so much.

"− oh, no, silly − I never felt anything like that before you − I think I was in love with you long before I realised it −" She said warmly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye, a sweet, girlish smile full of tenderness on her lips that melted his heart, his confirmation that all was well.

"− yes − yes, me too −" He murmured, leaning lower, placing warm, wet kisses on her face. He began to wonder intensely if the ring he had chosen for her, which lay tucked deep in one of his drawers where he kept his designs was still there, and if he would be a complete idiot to propose to her now.

After a moment he decided that yes, he would be a complete idiot and sighed quietly, smiling involuntarily under his breath, sliding out of her gently, helping her put her panties back on over her buttocks, then zipping up his trousers, looking at her out of the corner of his eye, she turned to face him, all red from exertion, her eyes big, her breathing still slightly accelerated.

"Take me today to the church where you first saw the stained glass windows. You told me that story once, I think you mentioned that your father took you there." He said softly and she blinked, curious, cocking her head, leaning her palms against the edge of the table.

"Alright, why not, Professor. Where did you suddenly get this idea?" She asked cheerfully, excitedly, and he snorted under his breath.

"You'll see."

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

Strictly Scandalous…

You first meet Hangman when he accidentally spills his drink on you at the Hard Deck turning your pretty white dress see through. Conscious of eyes on your chest he offers up his shirt to you and begins trying to learn more about you. Reader, turned on by his protective nature and sexy physical appearance, takes him outside with the intent of showing him how much she appreciated his kind gesture and charming personality only to end up receiving the best sex of her life…and possibly a date.

Listen this concept gave me literal life. I did however make a slight change and instead of sex, we went with the reader give Hangman head because that’s what my brain went to. ✌️

Warnings: This is strictly scandalous, smut ahead.

“I really am so unbelievably sorry—“ Jakes leaning over the booth to get closer to you on his elbows, his T-shirt slung over your now very see-through dress. “I just didn’t for the life of me see you standing there.”

“It’s alright, really.” You mule as you take a sip of the Canadian Club Jake had brought you as a sorry for spilling not one, not two, but three draft beers all over your pretty little ensemble. “Besides, the view ain’t that bad from where I’m sitting, so I guess you can say we’re even Stevens.”

Jake had ripped his own shirt off without a second thought, covering your exposed chest to the prying eyes of bar patrons who watched the dirty blonde, usually stable aviator stumble into you haphazardly as he momentarily lost his footing on the way over to the pool table.

It left him exposed from the waist up, which he’d normally be okay with. But Penny had a strict no nips policy and Jake hated the fact Bradley Bradshaw's Hawaiian throw over had now become his saving grace. He’d never live it down, the shirt or the fact he’d dragged you down in the depths of embarrassment with him. Jake Seresin was on a roll tonight, clearly.

“If it’s Hawaiian shirts you’re into you should be talking to Rooster—“ Jake mumbles under his breath as he watches you from across the booth twirl the little plastic straw around the vessel holding your drink of choice.

“It's not the shirt.” You simply shake your head. “And I don't do mustaches.”

“What is it that you do then?” Jake feels himself gaining some confidence back, he’s sending you one of his signature smirks and he knows just by the way you finish your drink and lean into the booth a little more to close the gap as much as you can that lingers between the two of you.

“Dirty blondes who spill beer on unassuming contacts.”

It's that comment that led you to know, with the copious amounts of alcohol flooding your systems and inability to think all that rationally, not that you didn't want to be grown on your knees in the carpark of the Hard deck. Not that you didn't want Jake's hands wrapped in your hair, helping to guide you up and down his length.

It's just that an all important question had been missed in the meet and greet part of your x-raked rendezvous. Why was Jake at a naval bar in the first place? And he certainly hadn't asked you that question either. But, it was far too late to ask now, consequences be damned you thought.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck–” Like a mantra, Jakes looking up into the heavens above as he bucks his hisp against your face, his cock disapearing and re-appearing moments after having being shoved down your warm tight throat. “Yess–ah fuck!” You've got his shirt on the ground, stopping the rocks from digging into your knees too deep as you work to work him over.

It's damn near organsmic to hear Jake, the man who'd spilt three drinks on you earlier, moan the way he was. Needy, lustful, one hand twisted in your hair while the other cups your cheek. Guiding you as you take every inch he's willing to give you. You hadnt gone into this thinking youd end up sucking Jake off, but fuck it had been one of your better ideas of the night so far.

“Fuugghh–!” Jakes flushed a red hume, it had started to creep its way up his neck from below the hawaiian button up, flushing his cheeks a pretty pink as his breathing laboured and got a little heavier with every passing second he relished in. “Feels so fucking good.”

If Jake had known that all it would take to get such a pretty girl like you down on your knees before him, sucking him senseless in the car park of the Hard Deck, was to spill a few amber beverages across your chest he would have tapped the whole damn keg months ago.

“Mmmhmm–” You simply aren't shy, moaning around Jake's cock as you look up through watery eyelashes to see him looking down at you with an open slack jaw. He has his back pressed against the side of his black F-150 and his jeans pulled down just past his hips, down enough that you could reach in and free him from the confines of his boxer briefs when you had pushed him up against the truck initially to make out.

It had been a feverish, intense hook-up. So feverish and needy that when your hand grazed against Jake's clothed cock he was already hard and standing to attention, hoping that the situation unfolding would lead to something more.

“Ah fuck, darlin, if you don’t sucking me off like that I’m gonna cum down that pretty little throat of yours.” Jakes close, he can feel his orgasm pooling at the base of his shaft. He can feel the all to familiar sensation of his balls tightening, his heart rate spiking, the need to just fuck deep into your throat overwhelming him as he let out groans and frustrated sighs, because he keeps forgetting how to fuckign breathe.

Popping your lips, you pull back and take Jake's sloppy length in your hand, pumping him as you chuckle and smile up at him.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” Jakes taking that as the go ahead to rail your throat. Waiting till your lips are once again wrapped around his tip before he's taking over the pace, groaning as your nose hits his manscaped pubic hair. Holding you down as he twitches and leans over you.

“OOhhhhhh fucking christ–” Tapping at his thigh, Jakes pulls your head back just to watch the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you gasp for air, only to do the same thing over and over again because it feels far too good to stop now when hes so close to cumming down your windpipe. “Baby, ahh Fuck I’m there, I’m there ohhhhh ffuugghhh–”

It's an overwhelming sensation, to have Jake buried at the hilt down your throat as he's withering away above you. His vision blurred for a minute as he felt himself releasing into your warm, tight throat. The mixture of saliva and opake cum dripping down your tongue before you swallow. Neat and tidy. “Ahhhh oh my god–”

Despite his inhibitions, Jake Seresin is a southern gentleman at heart. So when he comes down from the high you gave him, he's unlocking his truck, pulling you into it and down onto his lap. Kissing you just to taste himself on your tongue as he cups your cheeks, hot to the touch.

There's no secret just by looks alone that you are by far much younger than Jake. He knows it's not a question you ask a lady either, so he goes about it rather strategically while he's sucking against the pulse point of your neck as you grind yourself down into his lap.

“What do you do, pretty girl?” Jake's mumbling. “You know, when you aren't riding thighs in the backs of Ford trucks in car parks of bars?” And it's your answer that has Jake's voice hitching in the back of his throat. He's just gotten a new gig, as had most of the daggers–they were instructors, TopGun instructors. The newest class were starting Monday…..

“Im a naval aviator–” You moaned, pulling back just so you could rip your dress up over your head, exposing yourself to the drunk in trouble man under you. “Start at Miramar on Monday, Lieutenant Y/n Mitchell at your service.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Jake ‘Hangman Seresin

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

#ohtobeleah 3k celebration #strictly scandalous jake ‘hangman’ seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader

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dokidaichi · 2 years

Text

(i) things about HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU

pairing : (very) hot neighbour ! suguru x fem ! reader

warnings : non-sorcerer au, suggestive, pervert suguru (as expected), ulterior motives, accidental flashing, shy reader (because suguru's that fucking hot), suguru the ultimate tease, important note in the end !! also i had too much fun writing this it's a sin

note : my requests are open ! feel free to send some in my ask box

suggestive content under the cut, minors dni

reblogs and comments are appreciated ୨♡୧

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU just moved into the apartment beside yours. you just happen to stumble upon him when he's getting his last boxes in, and you felt rude to have stared at him the way you did. you were not-so-subtly checking him out, as a tight navy shirt hugged his undeniably built upper body to contrast the loose black pants, and strands of jet black hair just effortlessly falling out of his bun. you were even more embarrassed when he offered you his hand with a smile, saying "hi, i'm geto suguru. your new neighbour, i believe?", while all you could spout back were stuttered words.

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU can't forget about you. he especially can't forget about the way you looked at him. and, it wasn't like many people haven't obviously gawked at him, but he especially liked it when he saw how nervous you got just at the sight of him. "she's cute.", he speaks to himself, going into his nap thinking of you.

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU meets you again when you're going up the stairs, as he's going down. you tell him that the elevator would be out of service for a while, even though he didn't even ask, but he appreciates it nonetheless. especially since you said it without even gathering the courage to meet his eyes. his "thank you" catches you off guard, since he ever so briefly placed his much bigger hand on yours, before walking down.

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU is also not bothered at all by the fact the elevator is working. while his friends say it's "unlucky" that the elevator broke down since he just moved in, he says it isn’t. he doesn't tell them why, but it's his absolute luck that he often meets you on the stairs, especially when he's going down. why? he feels he's been blessed by the gods that you wear short skirts so often. he gets such a wonderful view as he strides downstairs, while you cluelessly and timidly take steps upwards. he wonders if you've always worn skirts often or if it's because he moved in.

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU is surprised when you knock on his door, asking him to help with a light bulb change in your living room since you "can't find your ladder". of course, he comes in to "help you" with changing the light bulb as an excuse to check out how many places he can bend you over. you also asked him oh-so-nicely as you gave him the privilege to hear you say his name when you asked "g-geto, do you mind helping me with something? please?"

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU smiles when you offer him something to drink, since he graciously helped you with the bulb. he leans against the kitchen counter while he watches you pour out juice into a glass, only to suddenly walk towards you. you tense up when you hardly feel his wide body against your back, watching as his hand takes the filled glass and he (rhetorically) asks "this for me?". while he chuckles, unfazed by your slow nod, you're still too flustered when he moves away from behind you and stands beside you.

HOT NEIGHBOUR ! GETO SUGURU sees you the next day, both of you just coming home from work. he asks you how work was, how your day was, any troubles ... and you answer every question, but your eyes are glued to your door knob. at first, you don't see suguru smirk, but you're soon sucking in a breath when the man suddenly approached you, similarly to how he did yesterday, and uses his pointer finger to move your chin to face him. your head tilts upwards, since he's tall, and you could see his sly expression crystal clear as he says "it's impolite not to look at people when they're asking about you, y/n."

note : should .. i make this a fic?? like .. of when reader and geto get together? because the concept of getting fucked by neighbour ! suguru is too good to resist.. please say so either through the post replies/reblogs, or in my ask box !! thank you :D

update : HOW DO I TAG ALL OF YOU OH GOD IM ALMOST DONE WRITING THE FIC

SECOND update : i’ll be tagging whoever replies or reblogs !

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empresskylo · 5 months

Text

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 14 ⬅ch.13

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | lil nsfw. wc 3.6k ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | sorry this took so long!!! next ch will be out very soon because i am foaming at the mouth writing it..

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

one thing you hadn’t really given much thought to was the fact that your relationship with your lieutenant would be frowned upon.

everything about the two of you was forbidden. he was your direct superior while you worked on his team. he was in a much higher position of power than a measly cadet or even a sergeant. if others found out, you were risking your position. you might even get switched to a whole new division. of course, simon would be fine given his importance to price and shepherd. but you? you were expendable. you could be replaced.

simon read your thoughts as they crossed your mind that following morning. “feelin’ regretful?” you had fallen asleep beside him that night, locked away in this little bubble the two of you had created. once you stepped out of his room, you’d be hit with the harsh reality of the complexity of your situation. the forbidden fortitude that stood between the two of you.

“no, i…” your words trailed off as you shifted on the balls of your feet. you had to get to the infirmary for your shift, but an invisible force was telling you not to leave this room. that when you crossed the threshold, everything was going to fall apart. or you’d be jolted awake, everything that had happened between the two of you last night would all have been a dream.

simon wanted to tell you that you didn’t have to do this if it was too much for you. but if he voiced that, there was a very real possibility you would take his words and resonate with them—that he wasn’t enough for all this trouble. and he was selfish , so he stayed quiet.

you twirled your hands anxiously together as you debated walking through the door. simon approached you from behind, his shadow sending a shiver down your spine. he wore sweats and a fitted exercise shirt. his hand brushed the tendrils of hair away that hung on the back of your neck, making goosebumps rise in their wake.

he had never been a very touchy person. he didn’t need physical contact to know someone cared about him, or vice versa. but after feeling you against his body—the warmth of your skin, the softness of your hands, the silkiness of your hair—he had a desire to always be touching you. ever since that night in the bar bathroom, the feel of your plush skin beneath his, he was entranced. he felt like he had a pulled muscle in his hand ever since, his body just itching to have you connected back against him.

“no one will find out, if that’s what you’re worried ‘bout,” he said, wanting to reassure you.

you turned to face him, his hand falling to your hip. the words were right there, but they felt tight in your throat as you gazed up at him, his eyes locked on yours. he was always so intense.

“you don’t know that.”

his lip quirked at the corner ever so slightly. “no one’s gonna be thinkin’ i’m foolin’ around with ya.”

you tilted your head. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

his fingers tightened their grip on your hip. “need me to spell it out for ya?”

you scowled at him and his eyes danced between yours.

“you’re sweet n’kind, makin’ friends with everyone here. ‘n i’m…” he paused, and you were able to fill in what he meant. he was a scary, hardass. “no one’s gonna look twice if they see us together in the hall. no one will be thinkin’ there's anythin’ happenin’ here.”

“no one would suspect you of being with me because i’m so…what? innocent? and you’re not?” you crossed your arms in annoyance, but you knew he was onto the right idea.

he chuckled and your heart stopped for a brief second. “kinda. yeah.”

“i don’t think you know how their minds work.”

“no?” he questioned, a dark look in his eyes. he backed you up so you were pressed to his door, trapped in his arms on either side of you now. “tell me. what would they be thinkin’, then? since you seem t’know them so well.”

you swallowed hard as simon’s eyes trailed down to your lips, his face leaning in quite close to yours. “you… uhm. well… you’re seen as what every guy here wishes they could be.”

“that so?” he said coyly.

“you know… you’re more skilled—more feared—than any other man here. they all wish they could be you.”

“they’d regret it the second they got their wish”

“i’m serious,” you said, trying to get him to listen to your words fully. “they admire you in an i-wish-i-was-as-badass-and-as-feared-as-he-is sort of way. and that kind of admiration carries on into all aspects. they definitely all think you’re better than them beyond what they can see.”

“where is this goin’?”

your hands reached out and grabbed onto his shirt, pulling his waist closer to you. simon’s eyes flickered down to watch, then back up.

“they think you get all the women you could possibly want. and then some. because that’s what they’d imagine for themselves if they were a war hero.”

“hero s’bit of a stretch.”

you rolled your eyes. “so we may be on different… calibers. but they probably think you’ve fucked every girl on base already. i’m just another check on your list.”

“s’not true.”

“i didn’t say it was. just what they think.”

you were looking at his chest as you spoke.

“that make y’jealous?”

your eyes darted to his. “what? no.” your cheeks were suddenly ten degrees warmer.

“s’not against the rules to sleep with ya. i don’t see the problem.” right. they couldn’t technically stop you from sleeping with teammates, but they could put a stop to things if it went beyond that.

“all i’m saying is they might suspect something if we’re around each other too much.”

he hummed in acknowledgment. though, you suspected he understood what you meant long before that moment.

“so i jus’ won’t do this out there, then,” he said before crashing his lips against yours.

you made a squealing noise in the back of your throat, not expecting his kiss. your hands clutched his shirt tighter in your fists as he attacked you. he rolled his hips against yours in desperation and you heard him grunt. it took everything in you to break away. “i–i have to get to my shift,” you said breathlessly.

he kissed you again before taking a step back, letting his hands fall to his side so you could open the door. you felt a bit dumbfounded at his stark switch, his clutch on you disappearing almost instantaneously. “oh, okay,” you muttered, understanding he was letting you leave.

was he annoyed at you?

you turned the door handle but his hands were faster as he spun you around. you yelped in surprise. his lips grazed your ear as he spoke. “i’ll find you tonight.”

and with that, he let you go and strolled over to his bathroom, likely to shower.

you blinked several times from the whiplash before grinning like an idiot and heading out of his room.

your hand ticked with anxiety as you typed medical reports into your computer in the office of the infirmary. tomorrow you were accompanying the crew on another mission. price had seemed to think you fit in well enough to keep working with the guys.

you misspelled the same word several times, sighing as you repeatedly hit the backspace on your keyboard. this meant that you were going to be in close quarters with all the men for the foreseeable future, no one quite knowing how long things would take hunting down hassan. and currently, your relationship with simon had to be kept a secret. the overwhelming anxiety about someone finding out filled you to no end.

“shit,” you mumbled to yourself as you, miffed as you screwed up another set of numbers.

you finally pushed away from your desk and let your hands fall to your lap, taking a quick breather.

not only were you worried about hiding this thing between you and simon, but you had an unsettling feeling that things might be… weird between the two of you. it was only yesterday afternoon that you thought he hated you—when he was messing with your head. and suddenly you were his girlfriend? it was happening so fast you weren’t sure how to digest it.

what if you didn’t do the things he expected from you? what if he ended up changing his mind and deciding you’re too awkward to be with? did he expect you to sneak off to sleep in the same spot as him while in the field? did he want you to talk to him during travel time? or would that make things too obvious? or did he simply want the peace and quiet?

so many things muddled your brain.

“you alright?” one of your medic friends asked you.

you spun in your wheely chair to face her. “peachy.”

she smirked, writing something down on the clipboard she was holding. “nervous about leaving tomorrow?”

you brushed some imaginary lint off your uniform. “i mean, i’ve gone with them multiple times now.”

“i didn’t ask you how many times you’ve gone off with them, i asked if you were nervous.”

your eyes darted to hers. “maybe a little…”

she sat back against the counter and rested the clipboard on her upper thighs. “shit. i would be too if i was responsible for keeping 141 alive.”

you rolled your eyes. “very comforting.”

she smirked. “i’d also be giddy as hell if i were you. some of us never see action… not that that’s a bad thing. but, i know for a fact some of the others are jealous price picked you out of all of us.”

“they are?”

“mhm. think he’s playin’ favorites.”

“what?” your eyes widened in defense. “price definitely does not favor me. besides, it’s scary as hell. i mean, you know what happened to me last time…”

“no, i get it. i’m on your side. but to work besides the captain? and ghost? yeah, some of these men would kill for that opportunity.”

“oh. i didn’t realize…” you squirmed uncomfortably in your seat. “maybe the captain would reconsider someone else going in my stead. i don’t mind…”

she shook her head at you, pushing herself away from the counter. “i wasn’t tellin’ you all this to try and get you to fold. fuck those guys. you earned your way there whether they like it or not. what you’re doing is amazing and kind of crazy.” she grinned. “you know what you should do? smile at them when you walk by. that’ll piss them off. its not your fault they’re so incompetent price had to pick a woman .” she gave you a sarcastic grin with her last words, mocking what she had heard the other men around her saying about you out of frustration.

she reminded you of all the things soap had said to you—all his words of encouragement. you felt stupid needing praise in order to get by. you remember ghost asking if you were expecting a good job and a pat on the back for doing what you were supposed to.

he was right. but still, you appreciated your friend’s words.

“thanks,” you said as you stood.

“girls gotta have girls’ backs, right?” she smiled before walking back out into the wing to attend to patients.

it was getting late as you stared at the clock’s hand on the wall. your shift was about to end and you were feeling a little anxious about what to do. was simon really going to find you tonight? would he knock at your door knowing your roommate might be in her bunker? was he expecting you to go to him?

you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, going to exit the infirmary wing. maybe you’d stop by his room… or would that seem too clingy? you hated how much you were overthinking everything. you hadn’t done this in any of your previous relationships, so why now?

your overactive mind was cut off when you strolled out of the room, crashing into a large body. you looked up, a little astonished and in disbelief, as the masked man looked down at you, his hands steadying you.

“simon? what are you doing— oh, shit —sorry. i meant ghost…” you looked around the hall to make sure you were alone and no one overheard you saying ghost’s real name. that would just raise suspicions.

his large warm hands squeezed your shoulders. “would y’relax?”

your head turned to look up at him, his soft balaclava covering the scars you had now known were spread across his face.

“i’m sorry, i just… i don’t know what i’m doing,” you said, taking an interest in your feet.

his hand slid under your chin and tilted it up. “neither do i.”

“well, that certainly is a recipe for disaster,” you said softly, earning a chuckle from simon.

his eyes bore into yours and you felt the need to fill the silence. “my roommate will be in my room.”

simon dropped his hand. “mhm.”

“i’m just saying, you can’t come there.”

he nodded. “i know.”

your fingers pulled at a loose thread of your uniform as you spoke. “and we leave early tomorrow, someone might see me leaving your room if i stay there…”

“quite observant.”

you scoffed, a bit of the pressure leaving your shoulders at his playful tone. “what i’m saying is, what are you doing here?”

he pushed his mask up to reveal a smirk on his lips. you gasped and looked around the hall again. “simon, what if someone—”

he cut you off by grabbing your cheek and turning your face towards him. he immediately crashed his lips to yours. a brief swooning feeling filled your chest as his thumb brushed soft strokes to your cheek. your body melded against his perfectly, his hand holding your lower back, dragging you into him. all of the anxiety momentarily fled from your body as simon consumed your every sense.

his soft stubble ticked you as he moved his mouth gently against yours. you whined unconsciously as he went a bit harder, his tongue desperate as it slid into your mouth. his hand on your cheek caught the wall behind you, preventing you both from falling as he pushed against you, your body obeying his every move, your back arching into him.

he groaned softly as he pulled away. it was almost painful for him to stop so soon, but he knew how risky this was. you panted as you caught your breath, his arm still clung around your lower waist.

his eyes danced between yours, his face still dangerously close to yours. “didn’t wanna g’to sleep without doin’ that first.”

your face warmed. “i didn’t take you for such a romantic,” you lightly teased.

he smiled before pulling his mask back down and standing straight up. the loss of his body against yours was something you didn’t expect to feel so vehemently. “there's a lot of things y’don’t know ‘bout me.”

simon traced the smile on your lips as you stared up at him. he felt like he didn’t deserve any of this. his hand tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear and he gave you one last lookover before turning to walk away.

you called out to him before he could get far. “are you okay with me coming tomorrow?” he stopped in his tracks. “i mean, are you okay after what happened….”

his hand balled into a fist before he looked over his shoulder at you. “can’t say i'm thrilled with the idea.”

“but you’ll be there,” you added. he was going to be there to watch you. not that you needed it, but if he was worried about you getting taken again, or hurt—

“m’not a hero. i can’t always be there to save you.” there was something harsh lingering in his words. it wasn’t directed at you, but himself. as if he was to blame for not being able to control fate.

his eyes averted your own.

“i know that. i was just saying—”

“i know what you’re sayin’” he snapped. you swallowed hard and he took a breath. “no, m’not glad you’re comin’, as much as i wanna see you. m’worried m’gonna be so focused on you the entire time, makin’ sure you’re safe, i’ll mess somethin’ up. get someone else killed.” he took a frustrated breath, seeing the hurt lingering in your eyes as he spoke. “and if something were to happen t’you…” he paused briefly. “i was there last time, and look what happened.”

“simon, that wasn’t your—”

he stepped closer to you, his hands on his hips as he towered above you. “jus’ promise me you’ll be careful. diligent.”

with your lips slightly parted, you nodded.

“good.”

his fingers found your chin, his thumb stroking across the soft of your lips. and it seemed like there was something else he wanted to say, something he was contemplating. but he just gave you one final look before taking off down the hall.

you woke to vigorous knocking on your door. your roommate rolled over in her bed, “what the fuck.”

you quickly got up, eyes blurred, and opened it to find soap. “soap? what time is it?”

“we gotta go, lass. grab your shit.”

“wait, what?”

“leavin’ earlier than expected. el sin nombre’s having a…” he searched for the word, “ party in las almas tonight.” his eyes looked behind you briefly. “that your bag?” you turned then nodded. “grab it and let's go.”

you changed frantically and slung your bag over your shoulder before hustling down the barracks to the port.

it was two in the morning, the sun a long way from coming up. you stepped outside onto the gravel, several men throwing things into the humvee you were to be taking.

you came up beside price who was saying something to gaz. “iaso, good, you’re here.”

“course, captain.”

he gestured his head to the back of the vehicle. “get in. we’re departin’ in two.”

johnny came up behind you and patted your back. “lookin’ good,” he mocked, referring to your disarray.

“sorry, i didn’t exactly have the time to get dolled up.”

he chuckled before climbing into the humvee. he stretched out a hand and heaved you up. you quickly did a head count, noticing a certain skull-wearing man was missing.

you sat between soap and graves. you nervously looked over at him and said “hi,” settling your bag between your legs. something about graves always made you a bit on edge. and having him here, right now, made the hairs on your neck rise. he would usually meet on location. he didn’t typically travel with the team very often.

he glanced at you and gave a polite nod. soap leaned over to speak quietly in your ear. “we’ll be meetin’ alejandro there.”

“right.”

like a sixth sense, you could feel him looking at you. ghost stepped onto the humvee and sat across from you, his eyes tracing you intently. you smiled at him and shifted uncomfortably under his watch. it was so hard to read what he was thinking under that mask. eventually, he looked away, staring at something else that caught his attention.

it felt so weird. everything about this felt weird. you were… dating your lieutenant. that sentence sounded so strange, like it wasn’t supposed to be strung together.

and here he was, his knees mere inches from yours, and you had to pretend like everything between the two of you was strictly professional.

you listened to the rumble of the humvee and the soft words soap muttered to you. it would take hours to get to las almas. eventually, you fell asleep, the sky still dark and filled with stars. it was a restless sleep absent of dreams.

the rumbling of the motor came to a brief lull, shaking you from your nap. you sat up, realizing your head had been resting against graves' shoulder. “oh my god,” you said rather faintly. “i’m sorry, i didn't mean to–”

“s’okay,” he said. “would never complain having a pretty lady falling asleep on me.”

your face warmed and you heard soap chuckle on the other side of you. “i know yer depraved, but she’s off limits,” soap joked.

graves shook his head, likely thinking back to soap’s similar words that night in the bar. he nodded at you, then got up and left the humvee.

you turned to soap, whispering. “what was that about?”

soap adjusted his tac vest. “what’dya mean?”

“ off limits ,” you mimicked. your chest tightened, worried soap had already somehow found out about you and lt.

soap stood up and stretched. “i was jus’ tryna help you. but, hey, if that’s the road y’wanna go down, be my guest,” he said, holding up his hands. he smirked at you before getting out.

you quickly gathered your bag and stood, your chest colliding with ghost’s. “s-sorry,” you muttered, looking up at him and then quickly looking away.

“you’re makin’ it obvious by tryna not be obvious,” he mumbled so only you could hear him.

“right,” you said. you nodded at him, similar to the way graves had respectfully nodded at you, and you climbed out of the humvee into the early morning light.

ghost’s hand clenched as he watched you. sure, he was possessive—a bit overprotective too—but this feeling of jealousy was a new feeling for him. or, rather, it was a feeling he hadn’t experienced to its full extent in years.

but watching you rest on graves' shoulder, nothing he could do about it… filled his chest with rage he knew he had to subdue, and fast. the last thing you all needed was a messy mission.

chapter 15 ➡

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lunarduty · 3 months

Note

Love your stories, they are so good 💜💜💜

Could I request Delay with Graves please? Thank you

𝙆𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙈𝙔 𝙄𝙉𝘿𝙐𝙇𝙂𝙀𝙉𝘾𝙀𝙎

☾ graves doesn't want to be late for his hearing. | [ DELAY ] one muse is trying to get ready to go somewhere while the other keeps kissing them and unbutton/unzipping their clothes. PHILLIP GRAVES X F!READER TAGS | female reader WC | 764

“you’re not even expected to be there for another hour. that’s plenty of time…”

“on time is late, darlin’. gotta make a good impression on the first day of proceedings, right?”

a valid reason for phillip to gently pull your hands away from the buttons of his shirt, yet the cocky half-smirk he wore told you he enjoyed it a little too much. and as you pout, he doesn’t offer so much as a peck on the lips as a consolation - as if REVELING in the fact that you’ve been needy today and he’s able to shake off any arousal of his own just to keep the upper hand. phillip moves around you with a wink, walking back into the closet to pick out a tie. making a big show of letting his fingers drag over the silky fabric, knowing that your eyes followed him in.

it was hardly your fault. seeing him in his gear, while still ridiculously hot, had lost a lot of its power over time (mostly phillip’s fault, since he loved to the fuck you in it). but a suit? you could count the number of times he’d worn it on one hand, so seeing the stark white of his shirt stretch over his shoulders and tucked against his trim waist was still unfamiliar. still EXCITING to see.

but today was important, that much was true. so you pulled your gaze away, leaving phillip to pick his tie while you returned to your own routine. he didn’t need to try very hard to look good, but you wanted to make sure you reflected well on him.

that unfortunately meant leaving the fucking for after court and instead trying to busy yourself on making your hair look decent.

“hey, what’ya think? red or gray?”

out from the side of the mirror, phillip appeared holding both colored ties with a tilted head. a shrug rocks your shoulders - a nonchalant response despite the sudden tightness in your chest. trying to seem more interested in taming flyaways than in phillip himself.

but he notices right away. he always does. that’s why his smirk reappears as he comes closer, like a lion stalking his prey. eyes glued on your face through the mirror while looming over your shoulder like an overbearing shadow. “ignorin’ me now? ‘cause you can’t get your way?”

“no,” you reply with a clipped voice, “don’t wanna be on time, right?”

a short hum vibrates in phillip’s chest, and you almost feel it against your back. “then help me pick a tie, sweetie. you know how much i VALUE your input.” he says it with a taste of sarcasm on his tongue, but before you can feel defensive about it, two of his fingers wrap around your upper arm. easily spinning you to face him and lifting the ties so you can see.

but honestly, it’s his eyes that catch your focus. dark and warm and hard.

“so red? or gray?”

“...red, alright? gray will make you look older.”

“was that so hard? now, be a good girl and tie it for me. you always do it better than i can.”

that’s a lie, and he knows it. but when phillip drapes the red fabric around his neck, and your fingers immediately feel the heat of his body as you bring them up to take it, you can’t find it in yourself to care. he watches as you loop the silk in on itself, trying hard not to let your fingers brush against him. you fail when you tighten the knot and graze the skin of his neck.

and it wasn’t until you try to step away from phillip do you even realize that he had his hands on you - strong and UNWAVERING on your waist to keep you close, knowing you would’ve wanted to try and get some distance. “lookin’ a little flushed there, hun. need to relax. can’t have you so wound up in front the judges - gonna make me look bad.”

his hands start to wander. finding the zipper of your dress and slowly, achingly, pulling it down just half an inch before he leans in. his breath is hot and wet and smells of cinnamon toothpaste and there’s nothing you want more than to taste it.

but just before phillip can reach your lips, you pull your head back. fingers uncurling from the perfect white of his shirt before they can leave wrinkles. “you’re gonna mess up my lipstick,” you breathe out - this time, it’s you who smirks when you feel him panting, “and we’re gonna be late.”

#call of duty x reader #cod fanfic #cod x reader #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you

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beanghostprincess · 3 months

Note

I just thought of this so you have to, too.

Buggy being genderfluid but the Roger crew not really giving a flying fuck about it. Who cares how you dress so long as you're still you? Yeah, sure, go apeshit, just be loyal, strong, etc. You're one of Us and your pants or lack thereof doesn't impact that.

The crew disbands.

Shanks and Buggy get smth of a culture shock once they are no longer in that protective bubble. Buggy is getting hateful looks, comments, snide remarks. Shanks is at his side, completely taken aback and honestly pretty pissed. Buggy, on more Femme days, faces more animosity, misogyny, and it's astounding to the former apprentices who different men and women are treated. And if you can't tell by a glance, people can get so upset?? What the hell????

Buggy refuses to be anything but themself/himself/herself, depending on the day and vibe. Shanks refuses to comply with this newfound social expectation to be rude and mean for no reason to innocent people.

The Grandline is the most progressive of the seas, due in part to the natural insanity it breeds. The Blues aren't as open, but the East is the more chill of the four. Buggy chooses there for many reasons, but the Big Top and crew is open to any sea. There's an information network, smuggling division, crowdsourcing area, etc.

Shanks will drop tips at places he visits for Buggy to get a foothold if they don't already exist, and Buggy will drop tips for Shanks regarding pertinent information for adventures, expectations, and etiquette.

It's a good dynamic. They go for years like this.

Buggy's stint in Impel Down was.... not fun. Aside from the misgendering, general torture and absolutely overwhelming energy there, it was stifling.

Marineford was a hot mess, but by the end, Shanks offers Buggy a ride to the Big Top's docked location, and on board, he just leads Buggy to this little chest in his cabin. Says, "here, take your pick. You wear whatever is most comfortable for you." There's a dress or two, a few skirts, tops, pants, shirts, and while most of it is in different sizes, there's belts and loops. Buggy bites back tears when they find their old skirt. They'd left that one on the Oro. How did Shanks even get this??

The time skip goes down, and by the time Cross Guild is running, Buggy has had to decide between masquerading as a Cis person or just... being themself. One morning, they wake up and everything feels too TIGHT, too STIFF, too much and she's left eying her leotard, half skirt and thigh highs.

...

Well. If she dies, might as well die authentic.

Crocodile and Mihawk nearly do a spit take when she struts out of her tent or into the announcement hall. She is a bit nervous by this, but she has COMMITTED.

It... also helps that so many of her men are singing her praises and Ritchie is bouncing happily, Mohji and Cabaji are smiling, Alvida is giving an approving nod-

She's happy. She's not going to let fear rule her, even if she can feel the gazes of two very powerful men tracking her every breath.

((They're not mad, they're fighting every urge to swoop her into a kiss and maybe more, but also the fact that WHO GAVE THE CLOWN THE RIGHT TO BE SO HOT??? IT WAS BAD ENOUGH BEFORE, NOW THIS????? they're not good at flirting, they cannot HANDLE this-))

I adore this. Buggy being genderfluid is actually so important to me as a genderfluid person-- My beloved. The concept of cold reality suddenly hitting them both (because they were so, so supportive back at the Oro Jackson) when the crew disbands is so good. Shanks is extremely protective of them when that happens, refusing to let anybody talk shit about Buggy. It's just so sweet of him. Tbh, it hurts so much to think about Buggy having to hide that part of himself,,, But then they come out to Mihawk and Crocodile and it's not only that they support them but they also absolutely love them. These two men are having a whole crisis over a clown again (as usual). But yeah, it's actually really sweet to see Buggy finally being free with them in that way,, Thinking thoughts about Crocodile going full mafioso with money and buying Buggy all the clothes she wants (he does it more for himself and Mihawk but yeah).

#genderfluid buggy is so dear to me #i love her sm #one piece #buggy the clown #red haired shanks #cross guild #dracule mihawk #sir crocodile

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keischreiber · 3 months

Text

Tailored For You

Synopsis: He's your boyfriend, isn't it only natural that he observes you the most?

Contains: Fluff

Pairings: Reiner x reader

Reiner's your boyfriend, so it's only natural the he observes you the most.

You're always eager to do things with your boyfriend, however you also know that he's busy. This is why you never demand him to go with you. Instead, you always invite him, giving him the option to say either yes or no.

※ "You do know that you can ALWAYS just tell me to go with you, right?"

He had a semi-apologetic look on his face, as if it was his fault why you can't just ask him upfront. But you explain that you don't want to bother him if he's busy because when it came to Reiner and work, things just tend to happen last minute.

This was one of the reasons why he can't help but to continuously grow in love with you. You were always so considerate.

As usual, he agrees to go with you. He never says no unless there was something more important. Thing is, there was simply nothing that was as important as you.

When you arrive at the mall, he knows that it's to get the essentials which often consisted of: Food, cleaning supplies, toiletries— the basics. Sometimes, he'll see that you'll get some things that he knows was for him.

※ "Is this really necessary?"

He'll ask, to which you just say yes because it's for him. You tend to spoil him when you can, knowing that he hardly does that for himself. He uses his money mostly for his mom, his cousin, his aunt and uncle, you.

The one thing that he doesn't usually see you get are things for yourself outside of the essentials. Sometimes, he would see you looking at a dress or two only to walk away mumbling things like, 'my pair at home is still pretty decent, I don't need that'.

He knows that you love stuffed animals, plush toys, anything that was soft and cuddly. There were instances where he'd see your eyes sparkle at the oddest looking one in the store, and then he remembers how your perception of cute was… unique. He saw your collection of monster and other odd plushies amid your zoo of a collection. Even from that you'd walk away, muttering to yourself that 'it's not within this month's budget, so maybe next time'.

Reiner also knows how fond you were of trinkets. You liked jewelry, no matter the price. You always seem to be in a good mood when you pass by a trinket shop that sold all kinds ranging from hair clips to anklets; some plain, others intricate in make. But again, to you it's more of a want than a need. So, it'll have to be for another time.

He knew why you were so tight when it came to money. The both of you have talked about your future together, and you wanted to save as much as you can so that he didn't have to shoulder everything. You even told him not to spend needlessly on you, but rather, spend it on his family. They come first.

And, to be honest, the fact that you care about the people who were important to him made you very endeared to him.

Which was why he honors this request.

But that doesn't mean that he can't spend a little. He never splurges, as per your request, but he does do what he can with what he has.

Because you'll scold him if he buys you new clothes, one time, he would invites you to his house, telling you to bring a few old white shirts, and maybe some old jeans while you were at it. You were curious why you needed to bring clothes, but you did anyway.

When you arrive at his modes home, he's waiting there for you with a do-it-yourself tie-dye kit. Gabi's there too, happily offering her help in turning your old white shirt into a masterpiece.

While you and Gabi did that, Reiner was with some needle and thread, sitting with his mom. There, Reiner was getting a quick lesson on how to do some embroidery, and when the day was over, you had a bunch of colorful shirts (Some being Reiner's whites which will now be yours), and jeans that looked like new because of the embroidery.

※ "I know it's nothin' special, but I hope this makes you happy."

But it was special. Not only that, it's priceless. A full-on Braun effort.

You love him for his consideration of you; and you love his family for making this day more memorable than just sitting alone at home with a good book.

These were now your favorite things to wear. Sometimes, when Reiner sees you in his (now yours) oversized tie-dyed shirt, he'd be a blushing mess. He always found it… uplifting�� to see you in his clothes.

There was also a time when you caught Reiner red-handed.

※ "Wait, I can explain. This— I… I mean… I know it looks like a mess right now but I'll—"

But you cut him off with the tightest hug. Reiner thinks that it wasn't the cutest plush, after all, he had handmade it himself. He didn't really know how to sew, and everything skill that he employed into making the patterns and actually sewing was something he had asked his mother's help for. Teaching him how to make sure the patterns made sense, how to ensure that when he turned the material inside out, all the stiches were invisible… the success rate was… well, it was messy. But it was a plushie. Reiner wasn't satisfied with it, and was about to undo the stitches when you found him with it.

To Reiner, it looked like an abomination, but to you it was the most adorable thing. You take it from his hands and hugged it to yourself.

"Can I keep him?"

You ask him, and he just smiles in defeat, before pulling you against him.

※ "He's supposed to be yours to begin with… so of course you can."

You had noticed prior the bandages on his fingers. He worked so hard on this cute plush doll for you. It's now your treasure, something that means the world to you.

And then there was a day that was especially tough on you. You normally don't vent out to him, and instead, simply want to be close to him on days like these.

※ "Hold on, I have something for you."

He'll tell you, before reaching into his pockets. He's been waiting for a good opportunity to give you something, but felt short on occasions. However, today was as good a day as a birthday, or anniversaries, or Christmas. Today, you were feeling down, and he wanted to try and remedy that.

When his hands emerged from his pockets, he was clutching at something.

※ "C'mon, your hand. Give it."

He would demand sweetly of you, to which you show him your hand.

What he began putting on you was a bracelet. It was made of tumbled stones of varying shapes and sizes, stones whose colors complimented each other. Accented with small white beads that almost looked like tiny stars.

※ "I would've gotten you something more expensive, but I know you'll get mad."

He began to explains with a grin, trying to comfort you with a light joke.

※ "So, I picked everything out instead and made something myself. It's not much… but I hope it can cheer you up."

And since you were already vulnerable, you ended up crying against his chest. He said nothing thereafter and simply allowed you to cry for as long as you needed. He held you carefully, offering your back with gentle pats and soothing stroked up until you fell asleep in his arms.

As you drifted into the land of slumber, all you could think about was how every bit of Reiner's love and kindness meant everything to you.

You didn't need fancy, expensive things.

After all, the things that you've receive were enough.

More than the material things, you had Reiner who chose to stay in your life.

And that in itself was priceless.

#◆ Drabbles and Fictions #reiner braun #reiner #reiner x reader #reiner x you #attack on titan #aot #fluff

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ser-rctslcyer · 1 month

Text

Pairing: Poe Dameron x GN! Reader Word Count: 2.3k Synopsis: Poe takes a much needed break during his mission, but he comes across his crush on an assignment on their own. Warnings: Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Crushes, Flirting, Banter, Developing Relationship, Poe Dameron is Bad at Feelings A/N: I’ve missed this flyboy very much and have been dying for some banter with him.

Poe rolled his neck, once and then twice again, sighing at every little pop until his shoulders felt a little less tight. Once he felt somewhat better, he hopped out of his ship and let out BB-8. He loved his X-Wing more than anything, but it was tiresome whenever he hit parts where he was just flying for nearly weeks on end. Thankfully he finally found somewhat of a safe planet to be on and he’d be damned if he didn’t give himself a moment to stretch out his legs before the next big push. His mission was greatly important after all and would change the fate of The Resistance.

For right now though, he needed a break.

Casually he walked through the inner city, keeping a pretty neutral expression as he looked around. It seemed the locals were all preparing for a festival of some sort as smiles and laughter could be heard from everyone. He looked for signs where he could get something to drink, lucking out as he rounded the corner to the sight of a bar. As he got to the bar table, he ordered something light; carefully observing his surroundings before enjoying himself. He had barely had a third of his drink when he caught sight of a familiar jacket passing by.

‘What are you doing out here?’ his brows furrowed as he tracked you until finally you were out of sight. BB-8 buzzed, a teasing tone, somehow knowing who he saw, and Poe rolled his eyes. He downed the rest of it as quickly as possible and paid, before bolting out the building. When he arrived at the spot, he peered around until he saw you again and a smile fluttered across his lips. By all means it wasn’t rare to run across another rebel during missions but in this case, it was a very welcomed surprise. He wouldn’t be half as happy as he was right now if it was not you; his crush. He straightened out his shirt, tugged at his jacket, and then cleared his throat. He approached cautiously, coming around the side so you’d catch him in your peripheral since your gaze was focused elsewhere.

“You know, I’m pretty sure you could’ve finished that fruit several bites ago,” he commented, and your eyes turned to him; filled with intent, they relaxed as you recognized him. “Unless you're preoccupied with something else?” he softly hinted, catching the stormtroopers you had been staring at as he looked back at you.

“If it isn’t you, Dameron. Isn’t this sector a little too far for you to be out here?” you raised your brow questioningly, taking an extra cheeky small bite with a grin. His heart hammered in his chest as he grinned back, turning to face you fully.

“Eh, you know how I am. I prefer the much more complex route to my assignments,” he shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest to keep himself from fidgeting with his jacket coat.

“Trust me, I’m pretty sure the entire resistance is aware of that,” you trailed off with a soft chuckle and Poe couldn’t help but beam. He always enjoyed the laughs he’d somehow manage to get out of you even though you were both on two different squads. He had been quite bothersome trying to get information out of others about you without sounding like a complete creep. The fact you knew something of him besides his rank, made his crush on you grow even bigger.

“So how’s your mission going?”

“Pretty easy for now, started with a bit of a blaster fight but I managed to smooth things out,” you finish the last of your food before leaning against the wall; your focus all the way on him. “How about you?”

“I haven’t gotten to see nearly as much action as you yet, it’s been pretty simple so far.” he sighed, trying to play it cool.

“I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it a little tougher for yourself,” you nudged him and Poe could’ve sworn his heart had skipped a beat.

“You flatter me,” he responded slyly, nudging you back which made you laugh again. Maker, if only he could hear that noise every day.

“As everyone does, I’m sure,” your eyes briefly leave his, as if you were somewhat saddened by your own words. It was silent, the noises from everyone else filling in the room between the both of you.

“This is just a pit stop,” he added quickly, looking back at you.

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, don’t you know this place has some of the most beautiful fireworks you’ll ever see in this sector?” he gestured to all the decorations around you, the feeling of joy lay thick in the air between you both.

“No, I didn’t,” you glance around the street before looking back at him. “Though if you have a moment whenever you're done oogling fireworks, I could use your assistance?” you inquire with a little knowing looking.

“I’ve got time,” he tipped his head, gesturing for you to lead the way.

“So when you said you needed my assistance,” Poe kept his focus forward, adjusting his grip on his blaster before glancing back, “you meant you just need my droid?” He watched as BB-8’s scomp link sped up the process on your datapad, as you kneeled tapping away a different encryptions.

“Well yes, but also I do appreciate the extra bit of company,” you threw a wink back at him and Poe rolled his eyes, turning away before you could catch his idiotic grin. Right on time, his droid chimed in; jabbing at his feelings again by exposing how mopey he got when he went on long missions alone. “See even BB knows, it can be lonely traveling alone for missions.”

“And you appreciate having a lookout,” he added, waving his blast behind him for a moment before resuming position. Though he was being a bit snarky, he was going to make sure he did his part; the last thing he was going to have was you mad at him.

“C’mon, how could I turn down our best pilot for some help?” you argued, tapping a little faster before your pad began again. “You’ve got sharper eyes than most of us.”

“I’m perfect, I know,” he spoke confidently, turning around to wink at you.

“Damn right.” you cheered quietly and Poe felt his cheeks heat up. He shook his head of thoughts, keeping a careful eye for any movement or noise. It wasn't too long before he heard a familiar mechanical click from his droid.

“Got it,” he turned just in time to see you giving a thumbs-up to his droid which BB reciprocated, rolling in a little happy circle of his own. He gave a once over to the rest of the building, catching sight of no one close before he went to look what your prize.

“And what exactly do you have?”

“Plans, list, everything the First Order has right now, that they’ve been using to keep tabs on in this sector.”

“Shit.”

“You tell me,” you smile widely, and Poe wished he could’ve bent down and kissed you there. He watched as you pulled out a different tablet and began transferring data.

“You’re gonna put it back?”

“Once this is all copied, I’m going to upload this,” you wave the other drive you had in your satchel. “It’s a simple little virus, so any copies they will try to make will seem like nothing more than a hardware crash.”

“Look at you, The Resistance’s best hacker,” he commended, watching you look away with a smile. Just like you said, the copied load and then you put in your virus, both swift and it was easy to put back in place. You both made sure everything was secure and put back into place so that no suspicion would be drawn. He made sure to watch your back as you led him through your exit strategy until it came time to leave the premises, that’s when you stopped.

“Maker, there’s more stormtroopers than before,” you groaned, crouching lower to make sure you wouldn’t be caught as you observed your surroundings.

“Probably the festival goers pushed them all back in,” he added and you let out a disgruntled sigh. The two of you looked for some sort of opening when his eyes caught something and he nudged you.

“I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Follow me,” he slowly made his way to the opposite side of the platform, ducking behind crates and other such things. He stopped at the edge, perfectly hidden behind a stack of barrels before climbing upward and pulling down some of the stray decorations that dangled close by. When climbed back down he could see the confusion in your eyes as he handed you a bundle of streamers, lights, and other such decorations

“Throw’em over you,” he began putting some over himself and then over BB while you stood there in shock.

“Poe?”

“You just have to trust me, sweetheart,” he put his hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before you started putting the decorations on yourself. He helped you, putting your satchel in front of you and draping stuff over it to make it inconspicuous. Both of your eyes meet once he finishes, staring deeply at one another until he grabbed your hand.

“Just follow my lead.”

“Poe–” you’re cut off as he rushes the two of you out into the open. He begins to laugh and chuckle, talking with you about the festival as the two of you rush toward the rambunctious crowd in the streets. Obeying his order, you mimic him, laughing and chuckling as you get to the crowd and assimilate in. You can hear the troopers behind you berate you both but no shouting in attempts to question you; they must’ve assumed you both and the droid were celebrating a little too hard.

Even though you are both far out of earshot, Poe keeps a good grip on your hand; leading you through the alleyways until you both end up on the main road. As he gently pushed through the crowd he came to stop once you reached the middle, BB keeping close to your leg. Before you can question him, a loud whistle flies high into the sky, and as you look up, bright colorful lights explode over you. The crowd cheers and celebrates as you stare in awe before looking back at him.

“See, I told you this planet had the most beautiful fireworks,” he whispered, squeezing your hand as he looked at you softly. The beautiful flashy lights reflect off of his eyes and you can’t help but think he is perfect just like this. You can barely remember you need to respond when Poe’s eyes grow with worry before his hand begins to pull away.

“Sorry, I can get a little too excited sometimes,” he chuckled, awkwardly looking away.

“No, no, it’s alright,” on instinct you grab his hand again, giving it a squeeze of your own this time. His nervousness seemed to still the moment he looked back at you, and the two of you stood there with locked eyes.

Everything else faded around both of you, your attention purely on one another. The two of you stepped closer without even realizing it until you were only a breath away. Poe, being who he was, closed the gap; softly sealing his lips yours. You melted against him, a sign of relief leaving you at the feeling of his tongue; a kiss so tender yet wanting. His warm hands roam over your sides, kneading and grazing over your hips. Even with your eyes shut you could see the fireworks popping over the both of you for what felt like an eternity until a familiar beeping caught you off guard.

“What?” you asked in a daze, worried something was wrong. It wasn’t until the droid repeated that you let out a snort followed by laughter while Poe rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Thank you BB, I’m sorry you're scarred for life,” he groaned, gesturing to the droid to look away; BB listened, begrudgingly beeping angrily.

“What a romantic you are, huh?” you pant quietly, twiddling your fingers over the curls at the base of his neck, which gets his attention. Kissing me while fireworks are going off.”

“I’m sorry, baby; I couldn’t help myself,” he grinned licking over his own lips before stealing another kiss.

Humming, you throw your arms over him deepening the kiss which seems to make him happy. Poe’s hands land on your hips and pull you closer. Quiet noises left the both of you, from every little nip, lick, or suckle and neither of you seemed to get enough. Both of you seem determined to fill in for the lost time you spent only gazing at one another secretly. Things were heating up until you both heard the incessant beeping which made you pull away. Poe was about to look down at BB when he realized it was coming from him. He fumbled through his pocket for a second before finding his pager which was making the noise and flashing; his mission was back in progress– he frowned.

“I think I’m out of time,” he let out a meek chuckle, pressing his forehead against yours.

“It’s fine,” you cup his face, trying to pull him ever closer; your lips brushing softly over each other. “We can always pick this back up later when we're both at base.”

“I like the sound of that,” he smiled, rubbing his nose against yours as he closed his eyes for a second.

“Figured you would, flyboy,” you tease, kissing the tip of his nose. The two of you stare at each other a moment more before pulling away; Poe holding both one of your hands gently.

“Stay safe, Poe,” you squeeze it and he does the same.

“You too.”

The two of you finally pull away before going your separate ways, thinking of the million different things you’d say to each other the next time you were home.

#rct fic #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x gn! reader #poe dameron fic #star wars fic

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gemini-sensei · 3 months

Text

Want You | Jaime Reyes x Chubby!Reader x Jenny Kord

Kinktober Day 12: Threesome

CW: oral - female receiving, semi-public sex, office sex, unprotected sex, Jenny is Reader's boss but they were friends first. A/N: this one was a long time in the making but I hope you like it.

Reader knocked twice before opening the door and entering the office of her friend Jenny Kord, who also happened to be her boss. She had a stack of reports from the lab that had been requested, so when she heard a "Come in!" she held them tightly and walked in with a smile.

The first thing she saw was Jenny sitting at her desk, typing something into her computer. She was quick to hit Enter and pushed herself away from the desk, standing with a smile as she stood. "That the scale report? How does it look?"

"Looks pretty great," she said, holding up the papers. They met each other halfway and she passed the stack to Jenny. "But it doesn't matter what I think, does it?"

Looking over the top paper of the report, Jenny nodded before smirking at Reader. She turned and tossed the paperwork on the desk. "Well, I really value your opinion, Reader. Why else would I have hired you?"

"Because I'm just so beautiful, obviously," Reader laughed, smiling bright and happily. Jenny laughed too.

But it was all cut short by a voice behind Reader.

"Well, you've got that right," he said.

Reader turned, finding Jenny's boyfriend Jaime sitting on the little couch she had against the wall. He was sitting back, hands folded over his stomach. He was in a tight black tee shirt and black pants, knees apart like his lap was another seat waiting to be taken. It made Reader's cheeks burn on top of the fact that he called her beautiful.

"Oh, hey, Jaime," she said, almost stumbling over her words. "What are you doing here?"

"Jenny asked me over," he said, giving a little shrug as if it were nothing. As if he weren't sitting there totally inviting.

Jenny snickered and caught Reader's attention again. "I wanted to talk to him about something important."

"Oh, then I can go," Reader said, ready to turn to the door. But Jaime stood up and stepped in the way, making Reader almost walk into his hard chest. She smiled and laughed awkwardly. "Um."

He smiled at her kindly. "It involves you."

"Me?" she asked, looking between the two confused.

Jenny came up behind her and put a hand on her hip. "Yeah, you. See, we've noticed your lingering stares..."

Jaime's hand came onto her other hip. "And we don't mind it. We actually like it a lot."

"The only question we have is do you want this?"

Reader's heart was beating in her ears so hard that she thought she misheard them, but their touches might as well have burned her clothes off. She was on fire and unsure of where she wanted to go because there was a magnetic pull toward each of them. She didn't want it to stop.

"I want you," she told them.

At that, Jenny pressed her front to Reader's back, pushing her into Jaime's chest. He caught her with his other hand by the waist, holding her tight. His hands gripped her rolls, making her moan. Jenny started kissing her neck, grinning against her skin.

"You're so tense," she mumbled, chuckling softly. "Relax."

"Yeah, mi amor, we'll take good care of you," Jaime said.

She looked up at him and all she saw was tender lust in his eyes. Then he kissed her and the tension in her body melted. She moaned into his mouth and he slipped his tongue into her mouth at the very chance she gave him. Jenny's hands meanwhile roamed her body, up her front and to her tits, groping them through her shirt.

While she made out with Jaime, Jenny began undoing the buttons of Reader's blouse and pulled it off her, letting it drop to the floor. Next to come off was her bra, which made her sigh in relief as her heavy tits were released from the cage of a garment. Jenny happily took them into her hands and kneaded them, wasting no time in getting Reader's nipples hard and perky.

The couple moved her over to the desk, which Jaime made quick work to clear by shoving everything off of it. He picked her up effortlessly and sat her on the desk, smirking at her as she stared at him flustered. His hands dug into her thighs, squeezing them hard before gliding their way up to the button of her pants and undoing them.

"Need these off, mi amor," he told her. She lifted her hips enough for him to pull her pants off. At the same time, he took her panties with them. She sat so pretty before him and Jenny, and their eyes devoured her. "So beautiful."

Jenny gently nudged Jaime out of the way and slotted herself between Reader's legs. "My turn to play with her a little bit."

Her hand crawled up Reader's inner thigh until she found came to her mound. She grinned as Reader spread her thighs further apart and slipped her fingers between her folds to tease her opening. "So wet already. Do we turn you on, Reader?"

Staring at her long time friend, Reader nodded and whispered, "Yes..."

"She's so cute," Jaime chuckled from behind Jenny. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on her shoulder, admiring Reader's curvy body. "I bet you've thought about this, Reader."

At that, Reader looked away. She wouldn't deny that she thought her friend and her boyfriend were hot, but she'd never tell them about the other thoughts she had. Those were private. They flustered her as she had only ever kept them to herself, in the confines of her bedroom.

"Oh," Jenny let out softly, still swirling her fingertips over Reader's wet lower lips. "I think she has too."

They teased her and made her hot under her skin. She took it in stride, moaning for them sweetly. Until she needed more.

"Please, Jenny... I need you both so bad," she moaned.

But Jenny refused to give in to her little pleas. She pulled her hand away and turned to Jaime, putting her soaked fingers up to his mouth. He sucked on them and moaned, closing his eyes as he savored the flavor. He pulled his mouth away slowly and with a wet pop.

"She tastes so good," he told her.

"Get up," Jenny said and Reader followed the order.

They brought her between them and Jaime toyed with her tits while Jenny sent a hard smack to her fat ass. She watched it jiggle before undressing herself. She hopped onto the desk, leaned back on one hand, and spread her legs to play with herself.

While she watched, Jaime and Reader devoured each other's mouths, moaning and groaning into the wet depths while Reader tore his clothes off. Once he was undressed, thick cock free, he began grinding against her thigh. She whined with need, feeling how big he was. Without even looking, she knew she needed him something bad.

He pulled out of the kiss and curtly turned her to face Jenny, pressing his hard cock against her ass. Reader licked her lips as she beckoned Reader forward but when she tried to walk, Jaime stopped her by holding her hip. One of his hands slid up her back and gently pushed her forward, making her bend into Jenny.

Jenny put a hand on the back of Reader's head and led her face to her soaked cunt. At the same time, Reader presented herself to Jaime. It was perfect.

She kissed Jenny's pussy lips and quickly found her clit. Jenny moaned overhead as Reader practically made out with her bundle of nerves, pulling on it with her lips. It was gentle yet just enough to make an impact. That was until Jaime pushed into Reader's pussy and threw her off of her momentum for a moment. She had to pull away and rest her head on Jenny's thigh while she moaned heavily as he filled her. He was so thick, stretching her out deliciously.

Jenny's hand on the back of Reader's head pushed her back toward her cunt, silently ordering her to continue her ministrations and Reader happily obliged. She dove back in and licked a stripe up Jenny's pussy lips, teasing her further. Then Jaime bottomed out and pushed her into Jenny more, at which point she shoved her tongue into her friend's cunt and stopped playing games.

Jaime gave little time for adjustment, needing to fuck Reader more than anything. She gripped Jenny's thighs and anchored herself to the floor in some attempt to be prepared for what was to come but once he started thrusting in and out of her, she knew there was no preparing for that heavenly act. He nearly pulled all the way out of her just to thrust back in hard and fast. Her cunt squelched wetly, informing everyone in the room of just how soaked her pussy was for them. All the while Reader tongue fucked Jenny and made out with her pussy.

They moaned and groaned together like a symphony. It was beautiful, but Jenny had the first high note.

She came first, squirting over Reader's face after her clit was sucked on and overstimulated. Reader lapped up the juices as best she could, some dripping off of her chin as Jenny shuddered and moaned under her touch. Her clit twitched with overstimulation as Reader ate her out as if she were her last meal, drinking up her essence like it was the fountain of youth.

She spoke in pleasured moans, a little muffled, "You taste divine, Jenny."

Jenny had to push her head away, almost begging her to give her a break. Once that was established, Jaime pushed Reader's body between Jenny's legs, and she threw her arms around Reader's shoulders. She pulled her into a kiss and moaned as she tasted herself on Reader's tongue. They melted into an intense make out while Jaime held Reader's hips and continued to pound away at her cunt, his narrow hips certainly bruising her fat ass.

While he held her hips in a tight grip, Reader played with Jenny's perky tits. Their tongues danced and twisted together, wet lips smacking as they moaned and breathed each other in. Her fingers found her nipples and rolled them gently. Jenny's hands came down to Reader's fat tits and squeezed them hard, pulling a whine from her pretty lips. Then she held them up and pressed her own chest into them, rubbing their nipples against each other.

From over Reader's shoulder, Jaime watched them. He couldn't take his eyes off of them the entire them, enchanted by them. Everything about them was amazing and made him want to go crazy. Instead, he just fucked Reader like it was his last day on earth. His brain was in a fog as his fingers dug into the fat of her hips and pulled her back into his rough thrusts, unable to ease up because he was too into it. Besides, she wasn't complaining about the pace.

Reader pulled out of the kiss, panting hard and trying to speak. However, only a few syllables fell from her lips and Jenny chuckled breathlessly. She held Reader's face up, making her look at her as she moaned sweetly and tried to talk.

"What is it, baby? What are you trying to say?" she asked, loving to tease. She smiled in her face as she tried to speak but words failed her. "Awe, what is it? Are you going to come? Is that it?"

Reader nodded desperately. Otherwise, all she could do was whine and wriggle under their touch.

Jaime's grip tightened as she wiggled, needing her to be still and only move in the ways he moved her. Her ass came back and slapped against his hips, cunt pulsing around his cock with need. She was on the edge, so he slightly shifted his angle and hit that spongey little spot deep inside of her that pushed her over. She cried out as she came on his cock, squirting hard and shaking. She couldn't stand on her own two legs and Jaime wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her up, never stopping his thrusts.

"Fuck, baby," Jenny moaned, still holding Reader's head up. She smirked. "You look so pretty when you come. So very pretty."

"The prettiest," Jaime muttered, only really half-hearing Jenny. Nevertheless, he agreed because Reader was just so pretty.

He was also close but didn't have the capacity to say anything about it. All he could do was fuck. His brain was buzzing with pleasure, foggy as could be, and he went after his end. It wasn't long before he too was coming and pressing himself deep inside of Reader, filling her with his heavy load that Jenny had been insistent on saving for her. He pressed his chest to Reader's back and rested his forehead on her shoulder, catching his breath as he came.

Reader moaned as her twitchy tight cunt took it. He throbbed with each hefty rope he gave her, and she moaned and sighed as he did. She leaned back into him, making him look up so he could see her. She tiredly, lustfully smiled up at him and he dropped his lips to hers, kissing her. Jenny sat back and watched, smiling at them.

When she pulled out of the kiss, Reader was pulled into another by Jenny, and she couldn't be happier between her and Jaime.

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jarofstyles · 11 months

Text

Stay Right Here - 4 the first touch

Things escalate.

Check out our Patreon for early access and exclusive writings!

Warnings: ABO, alpha Harry

——

The prince was flirting with her.

Often.

Y/N noticed it from day one but kept her professional demeanor, soft spoke and level word. She thanked him for compliments and even paid him some, but through the first two weeks he was starting to confuse her a bit.

The alpha was very insistent on closeness. He would take her smaller hand and show him tricks of palm reading he had learned while he was away, would brush hair from her face after she made the bed, would sit on the same side of the carriage if they took a journey, he asked her questions that had her blinking a few times.

Why did the prince care about her favorite colors? Her favorite snacks? It all seemed a bit confusing, but he was her boss so she answered regardless. It was a bit of a shock considering she never knew of anyone else to be treated as friendly as she was but he was taking to it naturally. Like it wasn’t something to be marveling at.

Every day she marveled at the fact that he had hand chosen her out of all people. He had barely been home for a day and she had somehow caught his eye, something every omega in the kingdom dreamt of- however, she was sure it probably wasn’t quite like this. Being his maid meant she kept her professionalism up to par the best she could. Eating breakfast with him every morning was a welcome but also worrying surprise. There was a seedling of fear in her chest every time that it was a test and it would get her booted from her job, or worse, kicked from the kingdom. She did have quite a vivid imagination, so she did know that perhaps she was overreacting, but the prince wasn’t necessarily known for his friendships with staff.

Regardless, Y/N was playing the role quite well. Maybe a bit too well, considering she had genuine excitement in her belly every morning. She was trying desperately to ignore the ping of warmth that rooted in her belly every time he touched her as well, but she was only able to do so much. A handsome alpha with a scent like his would send anyone into a tizzy, but… Y/N especially. She felt a bit crazy, even imagining scenarios where his touches didn’t stop. The worst part was that she wasn’t naive, she wasn’t oblivious. Despite the heated look in his eye at times that made her question if she was seeing things, there was no way that even if they’d done a single thing, that it could go anywhere.

A prince and a maid. No one would allow it.

—-

“Y/N, can you assist me please?” His raspy drawl warmed the back of her neck as she finished making up the bed. Her hand smoothed over the edges, making it tight and crisp. Fit for royalty.

“Of course.”

She turned to find him with his shirt unbuttoned, tanned skin on display. Something she hadn’t been expecting when she first started was the amount of ink on the prince. She knew of some, seeing it peek from his sleeve and on his chest, but seeing his bare torso was something she still found fascinating. The prince was a spectacularly beautiful creature. No one could deny it.

A harsh swallow brought her over to him, eyes again averting his gaze. The soft linen of his shirt was cool under her fingertips, Y/N wishing for a moment that she could experience a luxury like this on a daily basis. Soft clothing such as this. Hers weren’t exactly uncomfortable, no, but they were worn. Thin. She managed to dress them up the best she could, but she couldn’t waste money on clothing when they had people to feed, withering crop and a sick mother. Though the selfish part of her dreamed of the silks and cottons she helped put on to Harry every day, she knew her other needs were more important. Perhaps when her mother was healed, she would be able to afford a few nicer slips.

“You alright, little one?” He had been observing her getting lost in thought, her fingers stroking the material of his shirt. Harry had noticed this of her. Y/N got lost in thought quite frequently. Her pretty little head was stuck in the fluffiest clouds and he would beg on his knees to find out what she was up to in there. To take a peek. He’d been attempting but he also didn’t want to scare her off too quickly.

“Oh, yes.” She flushed, feeling heat in her face. “I apologize. I was just admiring your shirt. It’s very soft.” Her voice had a wistful tone to it that made him immediately want to strip and give it to her. Or better yet, let her stroke the fabric warm, over his skin. “It’s far softer than anything I own. I have to admit I’m envious, Sir.” That name seemed to sit well with him, despite his insistence on her casual behavior.

“Well, I can give you the name of the seamstress that produces this material. Perhaps you can get some.” He suggested, not really thinking too much of it. He would give the shirt to her if he thought she wouldn’t refuse.

“That’s very kind of you.” Her reaction hadn’t been what he expected. The little smile didn’t reach her eyes, her soft sigh and continuation of buttoning his shirt making him realize he had perhaps said something wrong. For someone who was so sure of himself in most ways, Y/N did have a way of unarming him. Making him second guess. A people pleaser.

“Did I say something wrong?” He asked softly, keeping his tone low as he looked down at her. He wished she would look up at him and let him take a peek into those beautiful eyes. His gut twisted a bit in nerves as she shook her head, nimble fingers doing up the clasps on the fabric.

“Not at all. I just don’t know when I’ll be able to do that. All my money is going to my mother and father to keep her medicated and the table fed. I don’t mind, not at all. It’s what family is for. I just…” she pursed her lips. “I long for the days she is healed and the farm thrives. The days I will be able to provide new clothing for myself and my family instead of worrying about keeping them alive.”

Harry felt a bit guilty for suggesting it now. He hadn’t thought every single penny was going towards that. The beautiful, kind woman who he had brought in to take up his days was spending all of her pay on her family. While he had noticed her dressed being worn and a bit tattered, it never once deterred from her beauty. Perhaps that was why. Still, a little rock of sadness sat in his stomach.

“May I have your eyes?” He requested, his fingers coming to her chin and tilting it upright. Y/N obeyed, as she usually did to requests, and his eyes locked on hers. There was a mix of emotion he could see but couldn’t quite place. The main thing he felt now was yearning. Yearning to take care of it without seeming too suspicious to her. Of her trust. Her devotion. Her body. He wanted her, all of those tattered dresses on the floor and ones he commissioned on her form. Her comfort.

“There we are. I apologize for my oversight and insensitivity towards your situation. It was not my intention.”he mumbled, daring to bring his thumb up to ghost over her bottom lip.

“It is a shame. You are such a beautiful soul, Y/N. You deserve to have the softest and most beautiful dresses. You will, one day. If you let me, I can help. Perhaps… it will take a bit more of your time, as i am a bit selfish with it.. but if you can devote more to me as these days are getting busier… I can see to you getting a raise. Maybe build your mothers medication into your payment.” He wanted to help. He didn’t want it coming from her paycheck. “It is rare to see such purity and kindness from a being. I see what you do…” he stepped closer, his palm engulfing her cheek. “Your extra bread to the children. Feeding the birds seeds. Helping with tasks that are not yours. I see your willingness to step in. Those are valuable qualities to me.” He had asked around quietly and found out more about her, but she didn’t need to know that quite so soon.

“I don't do those things to get rewarded, sir.” She said quietly, not moving physically from her place but finding her body relaxing into his touch.

“I know you don’t, little one. That’s what makes it pure. Why it should be rewarded.”

The energy had shifted. Y/N felt like she couldn’t breathe. This was an intimacy she hadn’t felt before in her life. The warmth of his palm holding her cheek like she was gold, his thumb over her lip, this was what lovers did. Not a position for a maid to be in with her prince, but she couldn’t get herself to move. She wouldn’t dare. Not when her body sang at the mere brushes and strokes of his fingers.

Her eyes ran over his face. The stubble was short, having just shaved, but his hair was still a tad messy with tendrils falling into his face and his eyes a deep green in the shadows of the morning light. He was so strickingly handsome it was intimidating, yet she couldn’t look away from him. His strong jaw and defined nose, every bit of him screamed fairytale hero, novel love interest, art muse, and she knew it was a privilege to see him so close, to have his hands on her body.

“I don’t…” she took a shaky breath. “I dont think being this close is appropriate. We keep… touching. And I don’t think its something that’s allowed.” Y/N had to say it. Had to cover her bases. Just in case. This was electrifying, terrifying. She had never felt more alive.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” He questioned, his grip lightening but not yet falling away. Y/N felt herself want to whine, wanting the pressure back, and it terrified her- but she shook her head. “It doesn’t?” Again, she shook her head, unsure of how to work what she was feeling. “Then… I don’t think it is. It’s our business. You and I. I enjoy touching you.. being close to you, Y/N. Do you feel the same?” His head dipped down slightly making her heart lodge in her throat.

Oh, she was fucked. In deep, deep trouble.

“I…” she croaked. “I do, but I feel so guilty. You’re the Prince, I’m your maid. I’m just.. I do like it.” She tried to get out of the fog his presence but her under, to no avail. “I’m just afraid. I don’t wish to jeopardize my job, my life. I don’t want your reputation sullied either, god forbid someone sees.”

Harry hated to break to her that people already knew of his interest. It was not subtle in the slightest, the way his eyes trailed her and his warnings to others who tried to do the same. She accompanied him to a few events so far, to the town, and he kept her close. Closer than necessary. He didn’t need to, but he wanted to. Felt compelled to. His scent was all over her, lingering on her skin after she left. He did everything in his power to get hers on him as well.

“Let me soothe your worries, beautiful.” He tilted her chin back up to face him, his hand on her hip tightening to get her attention. “I am the Prince, yes. I will do as I please, so long as you aren't uncomfortable. As long as you consent to it. There is no guilt. No problems. If you feel uncomfortable in the slightest, I will back off. But I can tell you dont want to. Now that you confirmed that..” he took a breath and licked his lip, his mouth feeling a bit dry. “I will try to keep the affections to a private time. I know there are jealous employees here, they’re upset I chose you from day one. That is my problem to deal with. My reputation… it is fine. Do not worry about me. There is no danger to you job, wether you continue being my friend and companion or not. I will not be spiteful to you.” He would never take away her income because he wanted affection. He could be childish, immature, petty at times, but he never went too far. The idea of upsetting her was far worse than anything else.

He also didn’t want to say it out loud but it wasn’t as uncommon as she may think. Plenty of royals had affairs with their staff, but it hadn’t happened here too often. No one would really blink at it, but he hadn’t done anything of the sort. If people didn’t already think they were sleeping together from his attention to her, they would eventually- and no one could blame her. At least they shouldn’t, if they didn’t want to face Harry’s wrath.

“Do you swear it?” Y/N’s brows wrinkled as she lightly placed a hand on his wrist. Her first unprompted touch that had him keening, the bare skin contact making his heartbeat race. “You swear that… my job is secure, that you are secure? I do like being close to you, but its so hard to let go of my training. This goes against everything I’ve been taught. We aren’t even supposed to talk to you, look at you without being asked first.” She laughed ironically.

“I swear it, Y/N. Call me Harry in this room. When we’re alone. I want to be closer to you, sweetheart.” Any amount of closeness will do. He was working up to it, baby steps, but his patience had paid off with her hand on his wrist and her letting him cup her cheek. He could only imagine where they could go. Where they could work up to if they nourished their connection. He wasn’t under any false pretenses but he wanted to indulge. Y/N knew the score, so did he.

He just wanted to know her.

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #alpha Harry #alpha prince harry #stay right here #abo #abo harry #Harry styles abo #alpha Harry styles #Harry styles fluff #Harry styles angst #Harry styles writing

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justagalwhowrites · 10 months

Text

Lavender - Ch. 44

You, Joel and Ellie recover from the events of Silver Lake. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-43 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut :D Unprotected PIV sex (don't be a dumbass). Injuries from canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 4.3K

Joel was struggling to figure out what to prioritize.

He needed to get you and Ellie far from Silver Lake and he needed to do it quick, before the people there figured out what happened and chased you down.

He needed to get you into something warm and dry before you caught hypothermia.

He needed to have you check Ellie’s injuries and make sure she was OK.

He needed to help patch you up, clean the blood from your skin.

He needed to have you look at the wound on his side, the one that was leaking blood where he was almost certain he popped a stitch when he’d swung the axe at the man who’d hit you.

He needed to hold onto you and Ellie and feel that both of you were near and safe.

He couldn’t do it all at once. He just couldn’t.

He wasn’t sure how long he walked, Ellie plowing forward, desperate to get away from whatever she’d seen and lived in the town. But after a bit, you started slowing down, stumbling through the woods.

“Baby,” he caught you before you ended up on your hands and knees in the snow. You were shaking, your fingers and lips and face pale. He ground his teeth. “C’mon, just a little further, we just have to get to a house, we can stop, we’ll get you warmed up…”

“S’OK,” you slurred, teeth chattering. “You both go on ahead, I just… little break. A nap. I’ll catch… I’ll find you, s’OK…”

You started trying to lie down in the snow then, gently prying your limbs from Joel’s grip.

“Shit,” he grabbed you again, pulling you sharply to your feet. You frowned, confused, eyes hurt. Like you were utterly lost as to why he wouldn’t just let you take a nap in the snow. “No, we have to keep goin’, you can take a break soon, c’mon…”

“But I’m so tired,” you looked like you were about to cry, your words mushy. “Won’t hold you up, just… I just need a little bit, that’s all…”

“Joel?” Ellie doubled back, her eyes still wide, blood still on her face.

“S’OK Baby Girl,” he said. He could feel his chest getting tight again, the feeling that everything important was slipping away from him because he couldn’t keep his shit together, because he’d been too slow to stop the man who’d stabbed him and he’d been scrambling to get control back ever since. He tried to focus. He looked around for a moment. Snow was cold, the bark on the tree in front of him was rough, your skin was soft… He took a deep breath and lifted you into his arms. You groaned in protest as he pulled you against his chest. His stitches pulled and he gritted his teeth against the pain. “S’OK Ellie, we keep movin’, just have to find a house or somethin’, we keep movin’.”

“M’tired,” you pressed your face into his neck. Your skin felt so cold.

“I know Baby,” he said. “I’ve got you, we’re almost there…”

“What’s wrong with her?” Ellie asked, first full sentence she’d said since the three of you had started running.

“Not positive,” Joel said. “But I think hypothermia, she went in the water…”

“Shit,” Ellie swore, shaking her head, tearing up. “It’s my fault, she was trying to protect me and they took her away…”

“No,” Joel shook his head. “Not your fault, nothin’ to do with you and everything to do with them, hear me? Nothin’ that happened there was your fault. Nothin’. Understand?”

She nodded but it didn’t feel very convincing. Joel tried to ignore the fact that his shirt was getting wet with blood where his stomach was injured.

Thankfully, the three of you weren’t far from a hunting cabin. Ellie was the one who spotted it, only 10 minutes after Joel had picked you up. You’d passed out, all awareness of the situation seemingly gone when you did.

The cabin was, thankfully, mostly intact. There were three bedrooms, a hole in the roof in one but everything else was intact. There was a stack of firewood on the porch - someone had likely been supplying it the summer before the outbreak, getting ready for the hunting season that never came. He set you on the floor, near the fireplace. He looked to Ellie.

“Need you to see what blankets you can find,” he said quickly. “Grab whatever you can, OK? I’m going to get a fire goin’…”

“Right, yeah,” she nodded, running into the cabin. He heard her rifling through cabinets as he checked the flue on the fireplace and grabbed wood from the rotting porch, piling it inside the hearth.

He got the fire going and Ellie came back with an arm load of comforters and crocheted throws. He looked up at her as he started unbuttoning your shirt.

“Turn around for me, OK?” He asked. “I have to get her undressed or this ain’t gonna work…”

She nodded and turned her back, nervously tapping her foot.

Joel peeled the clothes from you, the sleeves of your shirt frozen and stiff. He pulled his own shirt off, too, before putting you close to the fire and pulling a blanket over the both of you, wrapping around you tightly.

“Ellie,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Need one more thing from you, Baby Girl. It’s OK to turn around…”

He looked back over his shoulder at her as she faced him.

“Need you to go into Doc’s bag and get some of her medical shit,” he said. “I’m bleedin’, need to try to get that under control.”

“Right,” she nodded, going for the bag and rifling around for gauze. She found a pack and just lifted the side of the blanket, applying it to his wound. Joel rearranged your cold body so your front was pressed against his own, his arms tightly around you. “Is there… can I help?”

“Yeah,” Joel nodded. “You got a t-shirt on under that sweatshirt right?” She nodded. “OK, take off the sweatshirt and get around on the other side of her. Tuck the blanket in tight, try to trap the heat…”

She nodded, pulling the sweatshirt off and lying on the other side of you.

“She’s going to be OK, right?” Ellie asked quietly after a few minutes. “She has to be OK, I can’t… what if I got her killed, Joel?”

“You didn’t,” Joel said quickly, as much for himself as it was for Ellie. “She’s gonna be fine, OK? She’s gonna be fine.”

You had to be fine. He couldn’t live with himself if you weren’t. The sharp pain at the thought of losing you was visceral, it gutted him. It would be just him and Ellie, trying to figure out how to be a family without you and they’d have to figure it out. It would be the only thing he had worth living for.

He held you tighter, closer. He thought you might be feeling warmer but he wasn’t sure if that was wishful thinking.

But then your breathing shifted, growing deeper. He started to relax a little and you twitched against his chest, groaning a little.

“Doc?” Ellie’s head lifted from the other side of you.

“Ellie?” Your voice cracked a bit. You shifted and Joel loosened his grip on you. “Joel? What happened? Is everyone OK?”

“Just a little banged up,” he said gently, looking down at you. “We’re safe.”

You looked down at yourself and pressed yourself back into Joel’s chest.

“Why am I not wearing a shirt!”

***

Things came back to you a bit when Joel told you everything. Ellie found an old sweatshirt in the cabin you were holed up in and you bundled in front of the fireplace, wrapped in the blankets. Both Ellie and Joel looked worse for wear. You hadn’t dared look in a mirror yourself yet.

“So,” you said, turning so your back was facing the fire. Your fingers still shook from the cold. “I can’t do much quite yet but… how’s everyone doing?”

Joel and Ellie looked at each other.

“Joel needs some stitching up,” Ellie said, her arms around her shins as she stared at the ground. “I did a shit job…”

“No,” Joel shook his head. “No, Baby Girl, you did an incredible job, I just popped some stitches is all…”

“The fact that he’s alive right now means you did a great job, Ellie,” you said gently. She looked up at you, her jaw firm. “I’m serious. Without you, we’d probably all be dead.”

She just nodded before staring back down at the ground.

Once her face was cleaned up, there wasn’t much damage to be concerned with. You weren’t sure where all the blood had come from. You really weren’t sure if she would tell you.

It only took another hour or so before your hands were steady enough to stitch Joel back up. Ellie said she didn’t want to see you doing “medical shit” but mentioned penicillin before going back to one of the bedrooms in the cabin, bringing her backpack with her. You hoped it would be enough to keep any infection at bay as David’s people had kept most of your medication. All they’d left was the birth control because why would someone like David let people use that. The thought made your stomach turn.

Joel winced and hissed as you stitched his wound closed but he stayed still.

“You’re a good patient when you’re not busy trying to hate me,” you said said as you tied off the stitch. “You need to take it easy for a few days.”

“Think we all do,” he said, looking up at you from his place on the floor. “Have you taken a look at yourself yet?”

You shook your head, not really looking at him when you did.

You could feel that your face was damaged. It was tender and swollen and there was stickiness where blood had dried on your skin.

“Is it bad?” You asked softly. “No one’s ever hit me like that, it felt bad but I don’t know if it was actually bad…”

“Baby,” he said quietly, sitting up and running his fingers over your throat to cradle the back of your neck.

You just nodded a little. You knew that meant it was probably pretty bad.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there,” Joel whispered, his thumb stroking your neck. “I should have been there, I should have protected you and her and…”

“It’s not your fault, Joel,” you cut him off, voice gentle. “You protected us at the university. You got us this far. None of this, none of the bad shit, has been your fault, OK? You can’t keep taking the blame for everything bad that’s ever happened to you or me or Ellie or… It will eat you alive if you keep blaming yourself for all of it. Don’t let it destroy you. Please, Joel. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me and for Ellie.”

He held your gaze for a moment.

“I can’t keep lettin’ you get hurt, Baby,” he said softly. “I can’t.”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Then start with forgiving yourself,” you said. “Because I love you too much to let you do this to yourself.”

You got shakily to your feet, grabbing your backpack and a pot with some water made from melted snow in front of the fire.

“I’m going to go get cleaned up and check on Ellie,” you said, looking at him for a moment. “I love you, Joel. I’ve never thought you’ve failed me. Not once.”

You used your flashlight in the bathroom mirror to examine your face. There was a nasty cut along your hairline, one that you probably would have stitched if you’d gotten to it hours ago but now, it would do more harm than good. You cleaned up the blood and sanitized it as best as you could in hopes of not getting an infection. The rest, you couldn’t do much with. There was a more minor cut on one cheek, a bruise blossoming around it, a matching one around your opposite eye. You had all the signs of an orbital bone fracture but it was one that didn’t look like it would require surgery, assuming that you could last a few weeks without getting punched in the fucking face again.

“Lovely,” you sighed. Joel was going to be beating himself up about this for who the hell knows how long when your face looked like this. “Just perfect.”

You gave up on improving things any further and found Ellie’s room, knocking on the door.

“What?” She said, voice flat.

“Can I come in?” You replied. She didn’t answer. You waited for a moment before you opened the door. The lantern was on but she was curled on her side, her arms crossed protectively over herself, staring into space. You leaned against the doorway. “Hey, Gremlin.”

“Hey.” She didn’t sound much like herself at all.

“Hungry?” You asked. “I’ve still got some jerky and they may have stocked this cabin, I haven’t gone through the kitchen yet. They might even have Spaghetti-Os or Chef Boyardee.”

She shrugged. You closed the door and went and sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes following you as you went.

“Want to talk about any of it?” You asked quietly. She shrugged again. You took a deep breath and nodded. “It’s OK if you don’t, I’m not going to force you. But you don’t have to do any of this alone. And I’m going to keep checking in on you. Because I love you and I want you to be OK.”

She just clenched her jaw and stared at the wall. You put a hand gently on her ankle and she jumped before settling back down into the mattress. It made your heart ache.

“Nothing that happened in there was your fault,” you said quietly. “Nothing that anybody did to you, nothing that you did to anybody else. None of it. You didn’t have a choice. They were bad people and they took your choices away from you. That’s their fault. That’s not on you, Baby Girl.”

She sniffed once. You looked around the small room.

“It’s a bit cold in here,” you said. “Want to come sleep in the front room with us? There’s a fire which goes a long way in the warmth department…”

“Don’t want to get in the way of alone time,” she said, a hint of her teasing tone managing to poke through her otherwise flat affect.

“Yes, because we’re definitely going to be all over each other while he’s bleeding and I look like I just went a few rounds with Rocky Balboa,” you teased back, hoping to give her some kind of guide towards normalcy. She frowned and lifted her head a bit.

“The fuck is a Rocky Balboa?”

You smiled a little. There she was.

Ellie did come with you to the front of the cabin. You rifled through the kitchen and found some canned food - chili, green beans and even Spaghetti-Os. You warmed up the pasta and was happy to see Ellie actually eating it. Joel tried to get you to eat some chili but all you could think of were the bodies as they hung in the boathouse, the smell of what you knew now was human flesh cooking the day you examined people. The idea of eating meat made your stomach turn. You stuck with the green beans.

The three of you slept near the fire, Joel holding you and you holding Ellie.

Joel wanted to get up and get moving the next day but you put your foot down about that one.

“Absolutely not,” you shook your head.

“If anyone is tracking us…” he began but you cut him off.

“It snowed overnight,” you said, nodding to the window. “So our tracks are covered. And given how desperate the people there were for food, I think it’s safe to say they don’t know this place exists. You’ve got an open abdominal wound, I’ve got a busted orbital bone, we’re not going anywhere. The Fireflies have waited this long for us, they can wait a little longer.”

“I agree with Doc,” Ellie said. “We’re just going to get ourselves killed if we go too early. We should stay put.”

Joel, reluctantly, agreed.

You tried to do what you could with the days you were spending at the cabin.

Ellie was still withdrawn. Something had happened to her, that much you knew. She’d emerged covered in blood but there wasn’t a cut big enough on her for it to all have been hers. She’d hurt someone. You weren’t sure why. She still wasn’t talking about it.

The third day, Joel took the rifle into the woods and came back with a rabbit, which he and Ellie cleaned and dressed. You watched them work through the process, Joel at the point in teaching her that he was asking her how to do the job and letting her explain the next step.

“Good job, Baby Girl,” he said once the rabbit was on a makeshift spit over the fire. “You’re a natural.”

You played cards quite a bit, and taught Ellie dominos. There was an old copy of Operation there, too, that somehow still had a working battery.

“This one really isn’t fair,” Ellie griped as the three of you sat around the kitchen table as you pulled the water on the knee slowly, gently, from the game board. “You literally operate on shit. Like human people. Of course you’re going to beat us at this.”

“You really thing I’m pulling butterflies out of stomachs and getting buzzed when I miss?” You asked over the board, brows raised.

“Maybe,” Ellie said. “Doctor shit is weird! How would I know?”

“If you paid attention in my classes you’d know,” you teased.

“Should have talked about shit that was more interesting then,” she said. “Not my fault you were talking about stuff like cell walls and shit.”

You smiled a little and your hand slipped, making the board buzz.

“There, see?” You said. “You’ve got a shot.”

“Hell yeah,” she said, taking the tweezers and drawing a card.

She seemed to come and go. Sometimes, she was her usual self - oddly prickly and bubbly at the same time, filled with energy and curiosity and fire. Others, she was quiet, withdrawn, her face and voice flat.

After a few days of all three of you sleeping on the floor of the living room, Ellie decided she wanted to move to one of the bedrooms.

“You’re sure?” You asked. She nodded.

“I think I just…” She shrugged. “I want some time on my own.”

“You can always change your mind, Baby Girl,” Joel said.

“I know,” she said. She at least sounded more like herself, less like the empty version of her that had taken up part time residence since the three of you had left Silver Lake.

You waited until it was quiet and you thought she was settled in for the night.

“I’m worried about her,” you said, keeping your voice low. Joel just nodded once. “She talked to you?”

“No,” he sighed, gruff. “Not sure how to get her to talk to me, either. Not exactly great at it.”

“You can be when you try,” you smiled a little, tucking yourself under his arm.

“I am tryin’,” he said. “But this sort of thing… I could get Sarah to talk to me about boys or trouble at school. Never had to deal with shit like this, thank fuck.”

You nodded slowly.

“Trauma’s a different animal,” you said. “You’ve been there, you know…”

“I’m not sure I have been there,” he glanced at you. “At least not… not like this. You have…”

You paused, looking at him for a moment as he stared into the fire, face hard.

“I don’t know that it got that far,” you said after a minute. “And if it did… just because you haven’t lived through that specific awful thing doesn’t mean you can’t help. You know what living with pain does. You can support her through it.”

He tugged you a bit closer and kissed your temple. The two of you played a game of rummy and Joel asked if he could make it interesting about half way through.

“What did you have in mind?” You asked, brow arched.

“I win, I get to ask my doctor to clear me for some other fun activities,” he said. “What do you want if you win?”

“That’s tricky,” you said, thinking for a moment. You landed on it, smiling.

“Oh no,” he said. “Might regret this…”

“If I win,” you said. “You have to perform a song for me and Ellie, a-cappella, before we find the Fireflies.”

He glared at you over the top of his cards.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said. “But I’m confident.”

He won handily, smiling. You shook your head a bit.

“Should never have taken that after we were part way through,” you said. “You knew you had that…”

He shrugged.

“Been a while since I got to properly touch you,” he said. “Had to risk it.”

You had him lie back in front of the fire and you checked the wound. It was healing well, no sign of infection.

“I don’t know,” you bit your lip. “You really shouldn’t be pushing it, Joel…”

“Promise I’ll take it easy,” he said. “Now I ain’t proud of it, but I am willing to beg…”

You rolled your eyes.

“Just get ready to take your pants off, Miller,” you said. “But I swear if I think you’re pushing yourself too hard…”

“Now when have I broken a promise?” He asked, pulling you down beside him.

He kissed you gently, sweetly, teasing your mouth open and slipping his tongue inside. His fingers pulled at your shirt, opening the buttons and moving his hand into your bra to cup your breast.

His touch made you moan against his mouth. It had been a long time, damn near two weeks. You’d just been so distracted trying to keep an eye on Ellie and make sure you and Joel were healing well that you hadn’t realized that it had been so long.

But your body noticed. His touch sent a jolt of heat and longing through you, curling and settling low in your stomach. You pressed yourself closer to him, tugging at his shirt and sliding it down his arms. Your fingers traced his chest, his arms as his kiss deepened.

His hand slid lower down your body, to the top of your jeans. He unbuttoned them and slipped inside, his fingertips running over your already dripping seam.

“This all for me?” He breathed, nipping at your lower lip. You just nodded. “Have to make good use of it, then…”

He dipped a finger inside you while his thumb worked your clit. He moved slow and easy at first, but he worked his way up, pressing into you harder and faster, adding a second finger to your aching hole.

“Joel,” you whimpered as he curved his fingers inside you to work the place inside you that made your toes start to curl.

“You feel so fuckin’ good Baby,” he groaned. “Fuck, almost forgot how good and this is just on my fingers…”

He kept opening your sex with his fingers until you came around him in a shuddering gasp, pussy throbbing over him and making him moan.

“Need you,” he said roughly as your orgasm gave its final few flutters. He slid his fingers from you and pulled your pants and underwear down and off. He quickly did the same to his own. Your eyes drifted to the bandage at his side and you panted for breath.

“I don’t know about this Joel,” you said, almost groaning it. You wanted to know about this. You wanted him inside you, needed him deep inside you…

“Here,” he guided you onto your side next to him and hitched your leg over his hip, your knee coming to rest not too far from his injury. He notched himself at your entrance and looked in your eyes. “Promise, I’ll go slow and you’ve got access to the wound if you get worried. OK Baby?”

You just nodded. You were too desperate for him to actually say no.

He held you close and pushed into you, his cock feeling thicker than normal in this position.

“Fuck,” he breathed as he moved, sinking into you to the hilt, his cock stretching you open. “Fuck, Baby, I missed you, missed you so goddamn much…”

He kissed you before you could respond and started to move within you.

Joel kept is word, moving in you slowly but forcefully as your body worked his. Your hands ran over his back, tangled in his hair as your hips rose up and down over his thick length. He picked up the pace a bit, cutting your protest off with a strangled moan as he slid one hand between your bodies to find your clit. You had to press your mouth into his chest to keep from groaning too loud.

“There you go Baby,” he whispered in your ear as you whimpered into his chest. “Cum for me, cum all over me, want to feel you…”

You obeyed - you didn’t have another choice, Joel completely overwhelming you as your body throbbed around him. He pressed into you deep and came apart inside you as your orgasm eased, clutching you close and holding you tightly to him.

He kissed your forehead softly as you went limp in his arms and he panted for breath, part of him still buried inside of you.

“Never want to go that long without touching you again,” he kissed you again. “Never.”

A/N: Just a little chapter of some reconnection and whatnot before we head off to Salt Lake City. Are you ready? I don't know that I'm ready but WE'RE ALMOST THERE EITHER WAY!

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#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic

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undercoverpena · 1 year

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hands

simon ghost riley x reader (f!) word count: 1.7k summary: no one look at you, never mind hurts you—not on his watch. warning: smut. blood. touch o’ violence. helen isn’t readers name. an: to the anon who wanted ghost to throws hands for helen, I hope you love it (written on phone, forgive thy)

simon ghost riley masterlist

+++

They need Tarver alive.

It’s the mission. The focus. The goal.

Ghost hasn’t been sweating balls, chasing whispers to not get something more concrete from this bastard.

It’s why he keeps reminding himself to breathe as he stares through the mirrored glass.

Tarver cannot die. Yet.

He’s sure his fingers are white from how tight he’s balled his fist watching you treat him. Despising that those delicate, kind hands are stitching wounds Ghost’s fists has caused.

Even if it’s your job.

Something Ghost is very much aware of it, but hates all the same.

Your job shouldn’t be to stitch up enemies and ensure blood remains in their bodies. Your talent and skill should be saved for them, their team… him.

But he knows it’s the job.

Knows that tomorrow it’ll be the same. He’ll rip the world apart and you’ll sew it back together again. Two opposites which work far better together than apart.

He’s already lived through being apart. He hates that more than this—and by this, he means watching you through the thin glass as you stitch a man half-tied to a chair.

It was darker, more difficult, tinged with loneliness that comradery couldn’t fix when he didn’t have you.

Now, he wouldn’t let you go. Not when he’d grown used to the moments alone in your office. Not when he has felt your thighs slick with sweat, watching you roll your hips over him, hearing you whisper his name over, and over, and over.

Because he’s lived through what being apart feels like. It’s darker. More difficult. Tinged with loneliness the comradely doesn’t fix.

But, this is fucking difficult.

He knows you can handle yourself. He’s seen it first-hand. You might be good with a scalpel, but you’re mean with a knife too.

It doesn’t stop him from being annoyed that Tarver says nothing as his fists connected with his face. Reveals nothing to him. To Price.

As soon as you’re alone with him, he has been nothing but vocal. Not about what they need. Just how little he thinks of you. What he’d do to you if he wasn’t tied down like a dog.

Unflexing his fingers, he bites the hiss back from his cracked knuckles. The blood likely dried, healing against the gloves—reopening as he moves them.

He has no problem causing pain. It’s what he’s been made into, a weapon, a fucking good one at that.

Because he is methodical. The mission goes above all else, always coming first. He doesn’t think about what this will do to him later on, not when he lands the first punch, the second or the third. It’s detached, but direct.

For this, each had to land to injure, but not kill. Knowing the mission, knowing the importance of the man still being able to talk. He just didn’t do it with much ease. He didn’t think he needed both lungs, both eyes and all of the bones in his body together. He hadn’t considered the fact Price would send you in.

So, he’s watching.

Half-wishing you’d say something back to Tarver as he insults you, as he belittles you. Instead, you take it, alternating from leaning up to stitch him to standing.

Your words are direct, and clear. Does it hurt here? Breathe in for me.

He almost turns his head. Almost.

If he had done it, he wouldn’t have seen Tarver wait for you to rummage in your bag. Wouldn’t have wound his head back and connected it with your skull.

Ghost wouldn’t have been at the door in time, kicking it almost off its hinges as Tarver swings his arm, your scalpel in his hand, only nicking you—nothing worse.

But, that fucking bastard still made you fucking bleed.

His pulse thunders, fist clenching Tarver’s bloodied shirt—hearing the clatter, but still letting his fist connect with bone.

It’s like a mist comes down.

It blinds him. Burns him. He can’t see through it, think through it. His arm reeled back, one time after the next, his mind fracturing, his handle on the mission sliding.

“Ghost.”

It’s sharp, the way you say his name. Still tainted with sweetness, a warning.

It makes his fist halt. Pausing mid-air. It hovers, head tilting, eyes shifting, slowly turning till he lands on you.

You with your jaw tight, head tilted, a pleading look spreading over your features. But, it's the blood from your split lip, the nick on your cheek, and the bump he can already see which stops him.

The lump growing on the same forehead he’d kissed this morning. The same cheek he’d touched before he left your office to deal with this sonofabitch.

It should have been the look.

Cause the look fucking stings. It twists something inside of him.

It’s then Tarver decides to spit, blood spraying across the floor. A call-out, a reminder of his presence—as if the two of you had forgotten about him.

So he drops him. Purposefully.

His gloved fingers releasing him, letting him land with a thud and a hiss. He sees you flinch when he does, eyes dropping to the floor. He doesn’t move, waiting for you to give him a sign, anything.

Because he’s not sure whether to cross the room and shield you or kill the man who insulted you. The same one who caught you by surprise when you were tending to him—who reeled his head back and connected it with yours before carnage all but ensued.

Blinking, he flexed his fingers, the cracked skin raw under his gloves. It’s rubbing, chafing. Guaranteed to be far worse than the simple bruises he’d had yesterday.

And you say nothing. Not a word.

Slowly, you remove the blue glove from your hand before letting your delicate fingers brush over your lip. The wince, the hiss—it’s like nails down a chalkboard to him.

It makes him want to tear, rip and scorch the earth. Most of all, he wants to rip the man spluttering on the floor—tear him limb from limb.

Because you’re silent. Too silent.

Your lips are tight as you walk over to the open the bag, your hand disappearing inside before you’re holding a pot. The noise of the lid snapping from the container fills the space, almost silencing the coughs and splutters, the shakes of the tablets inside almost dousing the thundering sounds of his pulse in his ears as he watches you throw two pills at the man still breathing on the floor.

No instruction. No words.

A silent threat in your eyes as you stand over him before grabbing your bag and leaving.

The door squeaks and groans as you do, the metal meeting metal before he’s alone with him.

Alone with him—the man who dares breathe the same air as you.

The one who made you fucking bleed.

“I’m not surpris’d. ‘Course she’s your whor—“

His boot comes down on his jaw before he finishes the sentence, thankful for a bit of fucking silence again.

They need him alive, after all. It’s the only reason he still has a pulse.

++++++++++++++

He doesn’t follow.

Not immediately. He waits. Gets chewed out by Price. Removes his blood-soaked gloves. Washing the skin as easy as he can. Ticking off the list until he finds himself leaning against the doorframe.

The one to your small office.

The one which barely fits a desk in, and yet somehow has fit you and him both inside of it. Albeit then, you weren’t pissed at him. You willingly wrapped your arms around his neck, let him put your spine against the door, let his hips connect with yours as he drove his cock into your cunt.

Fuck, you made the prettiest noises that day. Mouth so close to his hairline, breath along his ear.

He suspects he won’t have that pleasure today.

Won’t get to taste you. Won’t get to hear the pretty noises you make.

Not from the way you cast a glance his way. Cold. And still very fucking silent.

Normally, it would be the sweetest sound. But when it’s shrouded in bitterness, and anger, it’s torture.

“We need to talk.”

You shift some files. “No we don’t. I’m busy.”

“I’m hurt.”

He doesn’t tell you that you’re fucking beautiful enough.

Even if he thinks it. All the time.

When you’ve just woken up and at the end of the day; he thinks it when you’re off duty and when you’re covered in someone else’s blood. When you’re stressed, when you’re sad; when you’re happy, when you’re laughing.

Now, when you’re mad… you’re something else.

He’d drown in you. He’d let your eyes suffocate him.

Hell. He wants your eyes to be the last fucking thing he ever sees. That and your smile.

“Oh. You are? I can’t imagine how you’ve gotten yourself hurt...”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, thankful he’s hidden behind his mask. Stepping inside your office, closing the door—thankful the beds behind him are all empty.

No chance of gossip. Murmurs.

The door shuts with ease, even if he’s almost pressed against you to do so. You tossing him a bandage and some tape, before crossing your arms—trying to keep your distance, even in a room no bigger than 6 by bloody 9.

Insolent, difficult, fucking bitch.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m not apologising.”

You scoff. “Ghost, you wouldn’t know how to articulate an apology if your life fucking depended on it.”

Ghost.

Not Simon.

Ghost.

Cold. Direct.

Sighing, you turn on your chair, twisting your body until you’re fully facing him. “Still, I don’t need one. You’ve just made my job harder, is all. Now I have more to stitch back together the next time Price orders me in there.”

“You’re not going back in there.”

Your brow arches, chin raising. “Oh. Funny. I don’t remember asking you.”

“Helen.”

You stand, quickly. Almost pouncing. “That. Earlier. Is my fucking job. I don’t tell you how to shoot someone.” Your finger poking him—all bony finger against his vest. “That’s not my fucking name, and you know it. You said it enough last night, didn’t you?”

“Why’re you shouting—“

“—because you infuriate me!” you snap, poking him again, nostrils flared. “You… fucking… nobhead.”

You poke again.

And then you ball your fist, and it hits him.

Soft. Clearly not aiming to injure him, but needing to do something all the same.

It does so again. And again—

But he grasps it. Stopping it. Stopping you. Your wrist easily fitting in his grip, your eyes molten fucking lava as they connect with his.

Silence.

A different kind, though.

And he realises you’re not mad. You’re furious. It knotting and bubbling inside of you—needing a release.

And you can’t hit Tarver. Only able to do so in self-defence. You don’t want him to hit him, because you know he won’t stop.

Suddenly, he knows how he can apologise—and it isn’t with words.

No. It’s something he can do well. Because he knows you. Every fucking inch of you.

He rips his mask off, pulling you close by your wrist as he plunges his tongue into your mouth. The groan vibrating through him, thankfully married with the feeling of your nails in his scalp.

The sound of the back of your thighs connecting with your desk, the perfect ruiner of silence.

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