#I’m a slow drawer in general
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(Un)natural Instincts (Part 9)
*Series taglist is closed.
angst, fluff, smut
Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.
Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.
Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7 > Part 8 > Part 9 > Part 10
General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property (Minors DNI, 18+ content)
Specific Warnings: injury involving blood, toxic workplace conversations, one nonsexual bathing scene, very brief conversation around Hoseok's eating habits
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Jungkook wakes up in the middle of the night, jolted out of sleep by the figure trembling against his body. He looks down at Taehyung, whose face is etched in terror. Distressed whimpers spill from his lips, quiet pleas of “please no” as his nightmares get more and more intense. The wolf tries to pull his packmate closer, tightening his grip to stop the shaking, but it doesn’t do much. He switches tactics, opting to whisper calming words in the man’s ear instead.
“You’re alright hyung. I’m here.”
He keeps repeating the last part, feeling powerless as his hyung’s whimpers turn into full-on sobbing. It’s Jimin who wakes up next, followed soon by the other two. All of them stare with wide, worry-filled eyes as Taehyung struggles against Jungkook’s chest.
Namjoon turns on the lamp, looking around when he sees one less person in bed.
The oldest wolf is nowhere in sight, and the bathroom light isn’t on either.
But there’s no time to wonder about Jin—not when Taehyung’s claws shoot out of from his fingertips, scratching frantically until he’s fully out of Jungkook’s grasp. The feeling of real skin underneath his nails is enough to drag him back to consciousness, eyes now open and processing his surroundings.
Blood.
Claw marks.
His Koo with a pained expression.
It all comes into focus one by one.
“Koo…I’m so sorry…I-I didn’t mean—”
“Shh, it’s okay hyung, it’s alright.” He’s flinching as the wounds sting against his skin.
Jimin swiftly acts, digging through the bedside drawers until he finds the first-aid kit. He carefully peels the bloody shirt off of Jungkook before working on the wounds, holding the pup’s hands as the iodine burns hot against broken flesh.
Namjoon and Hoseok focus on calming Taehyung down, turning him away from the stressful scene to look at them instead.
“Bad dream, huh pup?”
Taehyung nods, tears still pooling around his eyes, “Yes Alpha.”
Hoseok pulls him in close, “You don’t need to tell us about it if you don’t want to.”
Taehyung nods meekly.
Most of the nightmare is a blur, but there are parts he remembers clear as day: the researchers laughing with each strike on his heels…Jimin on the side laughing with them, delighted to see him mess up his duties once again.
Hit him harder. He’s just slowing the pack down. Useless mutt.
Taehyung cringes as Jimin’s voice rings in his ear, so crisp as if it happened in real life.
“I’m so sorry Koo.” He still doesn’t look back, facing Hoseok while apologizing.
“It’s okay hyung, it happens.”
“Are you okay? Should I help?”
Jimin interjects, “I’ve got this Tae, just focus on calming down for now.”
It’s an innocent statement, but anything out of the other caretaker’s mouth is enough to irk Taehyung at the moment.
“I am calm.” He snaps.
The cold front between the two wolves is still as icy as ever, and only Namjoon has it in him to say something.
“That’s not the tone we use to talk to our packmates, Tae.”
“Sorry Alpha.”
“Apologize to Jimin too.”
The wolf bites the inside of his cheek, reluctantly looking back and forcing an apology through gritted teeth.
“Sorry Jimin hyung.”
“It’s okay. You’re just tired.”
Everyone knows that’s a lie.
___
The wolves finally find their oldest the next morning, curled up on the living room sofa with an open book as his pillow. He stirs awake at the sound of feet shuffling in, looking up and realizing he fell asleep while reading.
“You look adorable” Hoseok smiles, “Did you come out here because you couldn’t sleep again?”
Jin nods, getting up and stretching out, body a little stiff after being contorted on the sofa.
“Came out to read, didn’t realize I fell asleep.”
“Looks like it worked, you look cozy snuggled up in that blanket.”
The remark brings the blanket to Jin’s attention. He doesn’t remember ever grabbing it last night, but here he is, wrapped around in the dark blue fabric.
“Don’t freak out, but there was a little accident.” Namjoon recounts what happened, watching Jin’s worried gaze go back and forth between Taehyung and Jungkook.
“I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve helped take care of them.” He groans in frustration.
“It’s okay hyung. We got it handled, and I’m sure we’re all glad you got some sleep.”
The rest nod in agreement, but Jin still holds a bit of guilt in his eyes.
“Is the wound really deep?”
Jungkook shakes his head, “No, it wasn’t even a lot of blood. It was my fault, I should’ve given him space instead of holding him closer.”
“It’s not your fault Koo, I lost control. It’s all me.”
“It’s no one’s fault. Now we know to give Tae his space if it ever happens again.”
“Exactly, thank you Jinnie” Namjoon holds out his hand to ruffle the older wolf’s head, glad to have someone like Jin help lead the pack. Jin tilts his head back, leaning into the touch. It’s instinctive when the Alpha dips down, meeting his packmate’s lips for a chaste peck on the lips.
The moment isn’t lost on anyone in the room. Such a simple, domestic peck that screams “I love you.” It’s a gesture that the two haven’t shared in over three months, but still feels as natural as ever now.
The sight has hope wriggling its way into Jimin’s heart.
Things are slowly going back to normal. Taehyung and I will go back too. Everything will be alright.
It’s the first time since they’ve entered the house that the hybrids slept in late, and the first time breakfast is already waiting for them. The caretaker hybrids can’t help but profusely apologize, which you dismiss immediately, telling them you’re glad they’re getting more rest. Namjoon almost tells you about how little they actually slept, but decides it better to keep your good mood intact.
Jin can’t help but glance over at Yoongi throughout breakfast, but thankfully no one, not even Yoongi, notices. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t understand why the man would bring him a blanket. He’s not his packmate, and he’s not someone Jin’s on the best terms with, so why?
It’s even more puzzling when the two of them reach for the last rolled omelet at the same time, and Yoongi retracts his chopsticks immediately.
“No please, take it. Humans first.” Jin says, pushing the plate towards the man.
The phrase causes a stare from both you and Yoongi, making Jin feel small.
“That’s not a thing here Jin.” You speak up.
“S-sorry.” He timidly takes the piece, watching to make sure Yoongi isn’t pissed off.
Yoongi’s response isn’t one Jin is prepared for,
“Do you like it?”
The hybrid nods.
Yoongi flashes the smallest smile, “It’s one of the few things I make well.”
Jin doesn’t know why, but his cheeks heat up as he bites into the omelet under Yoongi’s gaze.
___
“I’m really okay hyung.” Jungkook assures, holding his hands above his head as his packmate lifts his shirt off, stripping each piece of clothing until the youngest is fully bare.
“But I still feel bad, so let me take care of you pup.”
Jungkook doesn’t protest any further, getting into the bath and watching fondly as his packmate shakes off his clothes to do the same. He makes room as Taehyung sinks into the water behind him, pulling the younger one’s back flush against his chest.
Jungkook’s eyes flutter as Taehyung runs his fingers through his hair, carefully massaging his scalp with a decent amount of shampoo.
“Feel good Koo?”
“Mhmm, really good.”
Taehyung smiles at the way Jungkook gets lost in his touch, letting out low hums of contentment on occasion.
“Hyung”
“Yes Koo?”
“Was the nightmare really scary?”
Taehyung stiffens at the memory,
“It was.”
“Was it about the lab?”
“Yeah.”
“Well then no one in that nightmare can hurt you anymore. We’re far away from them, so don’t worry.”
Taehyung doesn’t answer, giving Jungkook’s hair a slight tug to get the boy lost back into the sensation—desperate to escape the conversation. It works, as Jungkook all but dozes off.
___
“You’ve been doing really well with eating Hobi, looking a lot healthier” you smile, curling up on the opposite side of the couch as him.
His face beams at the compliment, “Thank you!”
“I’m sure it’s been hard.”
“Sometimes,” he chuckles nervously, “it feels wrong to eat as much as everyone else. But I’m learning it’s not.”
“I’m really glad. Is there anything you need from me? I’m happy to help with anything.”
“Um…there is one thing…do you think you could take me out somewhere? I know you and Namjoon went for a walk, and he said it was really nice. But it’s okay if you’re too busy!” Your heart swells at the nervous request. If there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s that Hoseok is the worst when it comes to asking you for things, so this is a big win in your book. You’re finally getting somewhere with him.
“I’m actually taking Taehyung to an art store after he washes up. If you want to tag along, we’d be more than happy to have you.”
“Yes yes yes!”
His enthusiasm has you almost laughing, but you catch yourself, not wanting him to think he’s being laughed at for saying something wrong.
“Can everyone go? It can be a group trip!”
You’re smile falters for a second, “As much as I’d like that, I don’t think I can take all six of you there at the same time.”
Hoseok understands, people wouldn’t exactly be happy at the sight of six wolf hybrids out and about—even if leashed.
“I get it.”
“Sorry sweetheart.”
“No no, it’s okay. Thank you for inviting me. Are you sure it’s okay, though? Even two wolves are enough to scare people.”
“Two should be fine, you leave worrying about all of that to me.”
As if on cue, Taehyung walks in, all giddy and ready to go out.
“Hobi’s joining us.”
Taehyung jumps in excitement, urging his hyung to go get ready quick so they can get there sooner.
The store is everything Taehyung could dream of and more, with every type of paint in every color imaginable lining the shelves. He’s like a kid in a candy store with the way he bounces around from aisle to aisle, and you’re sure that you would’ve lost him three seconds in if not for the leash.
“He’s really in his element” you laugh.
“Painting used to be his favorite thing in the world. There weren’t a lot of places that sold paint to us though, so we couldn’t indulge him like this. He’s in paradise right now.”
The statement makes you wonder how exactly they lived before all of this. You’ve seen news segments on hybrid communities, how they had their own currencies and hierarchies. Lower percentage hybrids were captured by humans and sold off pretty quickly, but the higher percentage ones found a way to create their own society.
Hoseok thinks back to those days too, reminiscing how good everything used to be. They were thankful everyday for the genetic lottery they had won—being not only wolf hybrids, but a high enough percentage for no human to ever try to capture them. His pack was truly the apex of their society, until humanity’s greed ripped it all from their hands. Now he’s here, on a leash with a head full of trauma that he can’t escape.
The cart fills up quick, partly because you tell him “get both” every time Taehyung asks you to choose between art supplies.
Everything’s going well until Taehyung’s excitement gets the better of him, accidentally knocking over a little boy in the canvas aisle. It’s a soft bump, but it does cause the boy, looking no older than twelve, to fall back. He’s shaking in fear as the wolf reaches out to give him a hand. Taehyung quickly realizes he’s not making the situation better and steps back, making himself small as he interlocks fingers with Hoseok. You step up to the front and offer your hand instead, pulling the boy up while making sure there’s no bruises or scrapes anywhere.
“So sorry about that, he’s just excited. Are you hurt?”
“It’s o-okay. I’m not h-hurt.”
“Excuse me, what the hell is going on?” A shrill voice asks, new figure emerging from the aisle over and yanking you away from the boy instantly.
It’s obvious she’s his mother, and you’re quick to explain the situation.
“If you can’t control your hybrids in public then you should leave them at home. My kid got hurt because of you.”
You put on your fake smile once again, trying to resolve this as quickly and quietly as to not make the hybrids anxious.
“He doesn’t look hurt anywhere Ma’am. I’ve apologized to him already, so I think it’s best we all continue with our shopping.”
She eyes you up and down, gaze lingering on your Prada purse and Gucci belt.
“Nonsense, your unruly wolf pushed my baby down. It’s only fair you compensate us.”
Taehyung grips Hoseok’s hand tighter, unable to believe he messed up again.
You scoff, understanding exactly what kind of person this mother was.
“Compensate? For a small incident where no one got hurt? You’re not making sense Ma’am.”
“If I say my kid is hurt, then he is. Unless you want a complaint sent to Hybrid Control, I would find a good amount to make it up to us.”
Both the hybrids lose color at the mention of Hybrid Control…Hybrid Control complaints gave the government authority to take away hybrids deemed “dangerous to society.” It’s a case by case situation, but a complaint against a 40% wolf would no doubt lead Taehyung to being caged up.
You’re aware of this too, as you quickly open your banking app at the mention of the authorities. It takes a second after the woman puts her information in your phone for you to recognize it.
“Gong Hye Sun…you’re not, by chance, wife of Ha-jun, are you?”
She raises a brow, “You know my husband?”
Your mouth twists into a different smile this time, going from fake nice to condescending in a second.
“I’m his boss. Shin Y/N, nice to meet you.”
That changes the conversation entirely. Hye Sun steps back, heart racing at realizing who she’s talking to. Shin Y/N. The name she’s heard a thousand times from her husband’s lips—the name that determined when his next bonus was, if he was on the newest projects, if he had a promotion lined up, and everything else that their family aspired for. She takes back her words at the speed of light.
“I didn’t mean to—”
“Sure you didn’t,” you roll your eyes “I hope you don’t carelessly threaten Hybrid Control in the future. It’s not cute. Transferred some pocket money because I’m feeling nice. Get the boy some ice cream or something. Now, if you’ll excuse us.”
You brush past her, Taehyung and Hoseok trailing with relieved expressions.
“Why do I always mess things up?” Taehyung sighs, locking his seatbelt in as you start the car.
“It was just an accident, Tae.” Hoseok assures, giving his hand a squeeze.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s an accident or not. I’m always the one causing trouble.”
“Relax darling, you’re a lot better than I was at twenty-three.”
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”
“I’m not! You can google it once you get home. I was a real piece of work before I inherited the company. There’s probably five hundred articles of me embarrassing myself at parties or events. If you ever feel like a fuck-up, read those and you’ll feel better in no time.”
You spend the rest of the ride telling them about your past, prompting the youngest into bouts of laughter every time you mention a drunk partying fiasco. Taehyung doesn’t even realize that he’s too busy laughing to do his usual routine of mental degradation after a mistake.
___
The day goes by with everyone shuffling in and out of the study, watching in awe as Taehyung works in his element. He’s got all the reference pictures of your grandmother in front of him, doing rough sketches and beginning the underpainting process. It’s mesmerizing, seeing a new layer on the canvas every time you peek your head in. You do drag him out for lunch and dinner this time, telling him he can’t eat while painting.
It's when Jin is wiping down the dining table does Yoongi speak to him again.
“Hope you weren’t too cold last night. It was the only blanket I could find.”
Jin looks around paranoid, making sure his pack is too preoccupied to overhear Yoongi’s words. The man catches on quickly.
“You don’t want them to know?”
Jin keeps his eyes at the table, avoiding eye contact. All the hybrids had agreed to keep a united front, making sure to let you know that they’re on your side when it comes to you and Yoongi. It’s not much, but just keeping him company made Jin feel guilty…maybe because of just how much he liked it. It was nice to have a reading buddy. The only other packmate who likes to read is Namjoon, and he prefers to do it alone. It’s a simple thing, reading with someone else present, knowing you’re both immersed in your own worlds while sitting next to each other—simple yet so nice.
Yoongi leans in, “It can be our secret, don’t worry.”
He walks away nonchalantly, not knowing that it’s the second time he’s made Jin’s cheeks burn today.
It’s 11pm when all the hybrids in their room—even Taehyung, who Namjoon had to pry away from his paints. The wolves are getting ready to tuck themselves in for the night, leaving you and Yoongi alone in the living room. You watch as he sets up his laptop in a corner, getting ready for an emergency meeting. He’d asked you to stay and listen in from the side, making it one less thing he has to write in a recap email. It feels odd, though, being alone with him for this amount of time. The awkwardness weighs heavily on both of you.
The meeting starts in a frenzy, as much as any other emergency meeting. It’s not uncommon in the field you’re in, not even when it’s 11pm on a Sunday. In the world of venture capitalism, the work doesn’t sleep, and neither do the workers. You listen in closely as your COO, Minhyun talks through the screen, calmly addressing everyone’s concerns and weighing in on the best course of action. It makes you more jealous than you care to admit, the way he commands a room with such a level-headed demeanor. Yoongi’s words creep back into your brain, reminding you of how much better the office is without your presence. You wonder if Shin Investments would perform better under someone like Minhyun—if you’re just not competent enough.
It’s 2am when a course of action is determined, the call full of tired businessmen all ready to hang up. All except one of the board members, whose voice you recognize as Mr. Yoo, who’s still somehow in the mood to gossip after a three hour meeting.
“It must be nice to be Miss Shin right now, going on vacation with six hybrids while the rest of us are here working long nights on a weekend.”
Yoongi looks over, telling you to be calm with his gaze alone. He knows you’re itching to give some biting remark and put Yoo back in his place, but the last thing either you or him need right now is people finding out you’re living together. Thankfully, you’re on the same page, biting back your tongue and remaining silent off-screen.
“Miss Shin hasn’t taken a vacation day off since she started here. I’m sure she’s earned to sleep through a couple more nights.”
Yoongi watches as Yoo’s facial expressions change, clearly not expecting anyone to defend you.
“Sure, sure. Just a little obnoxious to use it this way, isn’t it? I mean, it’s not like she has a family trip or emergency. Three whole weeks to have an orgy with wolf hybrids…” His smirk is especially sleazy at that part, causing other bursts of laughter to erupt from the meeting, “it’s just not very ladylike.”
Your knuckles are paper-white as you clutch the side of your chair, using every ounce of restraint in your body to not berate the man through the camera. Yoongi seems equally upset, as his response comes across even more annoyed than before.
“If I recall, Mr. Yoo, you’ve taken three vacations for honeymoons in the past two years alone. Three honeymoons in two years…I wonder how long the newest marriage will last. Why don’t we bet on it?”
“Mr. Min! Watch it.”
“My bad, I thought it was open floor to comment on our coworkers’ personal lives today.”
That one gets a laugh out of Minhyun.
“Alright alright, that’s enough. Mr. Yoo, just because Y/N isn’t here doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate such remarks towards her. I’ll give you a warning this time, but any further instances will land you straight to HR. And Mr. Min, let’s refrain from personal comments as well. Now, it’s been a long day and we should all get some sleep. Goodnight everyone.”
It’s only when Yoongi closes his laptop do you talk again,
“Thank you…for speaking up for me.”
“Always.”
It’s silent as he packs up his bag. Your expression is sour, and it’s clear you’re still bothered. He almost doesn’t say anything—fearing you’re not in a place to have proper conversations with him yet—but he can’t let you spiral in your thoughts alone.
“You can’t let sleazy comments like that get to you, Y/N.”
“It’s not Yoo’s comment that I’m thinking about.”
“Then what is it?”
You hang your head in resignation. “Minhyun would make a better CEO than me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes it is. He’s excellent.”
It’s reflexive the way Yoongi’s at your side at the first sign of you doubting yourself.
“Shin Y/N, ever since you’ve taken over the company, profit margin has increased by 15% and stock value by 6%. There is no reason for you to be doubting or comparing your abilities.”
“It’s not just about numbers, though, is it? He’s also kind and everyone seems to like and respect him.”
“And who says you can’t be kind?”
You look at him with a questioning brow raise, “You did. Very clearly when you told me how much happier the office is without me.”
He takes one of your hands, clasping it between his own to pull you face-to-face. You expect him to let go, but he doesn’t, and you don’t try to get away either.
“I never said you can’t be. I just said you need to try harder, and I’m standing by that statement.”
You scoff, “That’s easier said than done, you know?”
“Since when has something being too hard ever stopped you from trying?”
You hold his gaze, realizing he does have a point. It’s the first time you’re not getting fully defensive about the subject, and Yoongi takes that as a win in itself.
“They’ll call me a weak little girl the second I start, Yoongi.” The vulnerability is clear in your voice.
“Maybe they will, but we both know you’re not. There’s not one thing those men can do or say to take away from how competent you are—but, as long as they can make you insecure like this, they’ll be the ones who have all the power.”
You look down, words taking a moment to soak into your brain. The way he’s holding your hand feels strange…intimate in a way it’s never felt before.
“Will you really stay by my side through everything?”
“I will. I promise.”
____
A/N: Do you guys like the way things are progressing? Let me know! Comments and reblogs make me happy :)
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fbi open up // my hero academia (social media au) [completed]
amongst search histories and private youtube videos
bakugo katsuki x fem!reader
genre: university/college au, fluff, crack, angst
warnings: swearing, sexual themes, adult stuff in general, jokes about dying, bakugo, slow burn, violence
disc: all pictures i used were found on pinterest and belong to their respective artists! i’ve only watermarked edits i’ve made!
taglist closed! thank you for your interest, reblogs are appreciated! <3
part one: todoroki shoto step on me
part two: squash me with your biceps
part three: this isn't about you anymore
part four: you can't threaten me with a good time
part five: we don't ice our drinks like pussies
part six: say sike rn
part seven: they're not so nice anymore
part eight: i'll do anything for a spicy man
part nine: payback for puking on my shoes
part ten: teasing AND threatening
part eleven: i'll cut you
part twelve: how is he hotter when i'm sober
part thirteen: like some eboy
part fourteen: i don't really care if you're into turtle porn
part fifteen: "what i want shinsou hitoshi for"
part sixteen: bakugo this is not a drill
part seventeen: everybody press the red button
part eighteen: please put the baby aside
part nineteen: you're a menace to society, cupcake
part twenty: i haven't invited you yet babe
part twenty-one: oh
part twenty-two: you don't mean anything to me
part twenty-three: can't a girl crave some ramen
part twenty-four: being a bitch for bitch's sake
part twenty-five: hiding in your room like pussies
part twenty-six: what, no cupcake?
part twenty-seven: i'll break all your teeth
part twenty-eight: i’m not whipped
part twenty-nine: it’s not very baby of you
part thirty: be my girlfriend
part thirty-one: who do you want?
part thirty-two: he says he doesn’t care
part thirty-three: a knife in my bedside drawer
part thirty-four: bubbly fun wheat juice
part thirty-five: can't cut carrots for shit though
part thirty-six: i'm going on a bird hunt
part thirty-seven: get in line bakuhoe (written)
part thirty-eight: don't be the dumbass now, love
part thirty-nine: i think my boyfriend's been kidnapped
bonus part forty: love you too babe
afterword
thanks for reading!
main masterlist
#boku no hero academia#bnha bakugou#my hero acadamy#my hero acedamia#mha#x reader#mha x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugo x y/n#mha imagines#mha fanfiction#smau#mha smau#bakugo smau#bakusquad#bakugo katuski#bnha social media au#fake texts#masterlist#bnha bakusquad#bnha x fem!reader#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n#mha x y/n#mha x female reader#bakugo x female reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki bakugo x female reader
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RUN, RABBIT, RUN.
𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. you've had your fun— trying to escape his clutches. now you better run and hide. because with constantine on the way, he'll make sure you won't slip away so easily again.
warnings. extremely dubious consent. blackmail. toxic relationship. p in v. degrading. size kink. dacryphilia. stalking. slight god complex. manhandling. not proof read.
pairings. mean!perv!constantine ⠀𝒙⠀crybaby!fem!reader.
josie’s note .⁺ ˖ ⌒ this is my first official constantine fic, i'm so excited to share with you guys! i tried to combine the loads of asks i got about him and the blackmail trope, so i hope you guys like it. this is my first time writing a full smut fic, so please be nice 🫂 — hope you enjoy ♡ !!
#. requests are open. ⠀masterlist.⠀keanu reeves masterlist.
Two weeks.
Two weeks since you broke up with Constantine
Fourteen days since you cried, and shakily told him to get out.
Three hundred, thirty six hours since you slammed the door shut in his face.
Twenty thousand, one hundred and sixty minutes since he’s been lurking around your place, unbeknownst to you. His naive, little dumb thing. Watching your every move.
The rain pattered harshly against the roof of his taxi, as he glared upwards at you through your window. Your run down apartment complex was generous enough to have a giant glass panel, to which Constantine could admire you through. He watched as you gently rubbed lotion on your hands, caressing your own soft skin.
His eyes fluttered shut, remembering how those hands felt wrapped around his co—.
“John, what are we doing here?”
Chas, Constantine’s young apprentice, sighed and rested his head against the steering wheel. Constantine resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his gaze fixated on you as he placed another cancer-stick in between his lips.
“Investigating.”
“We’re not investigating, we’re stalking your ex—”
“She’s not my ex,” Constantine snapped uncharacteristically, even Chas raised a brow. For someone as calm and collected as Constantine, seeing even an ounce of passion behind those dark eyes was a shock.
“Jeez.. sorry,” The younger boy mumbled. He shifted in his seat, leaning over to the passengers seat to catch a glimpse of what captured Constantine’s attention.
“Focus on the road,” The older man commanded, momentarily shifting his eyes to Chas, shooting daggers at his eager apprentice. Unfortunately, when Constantine looked back out the window, he watched disappointedly as you pulled your curtains closed. The silhouette of your tantalising figure left a lot to the imagination.
His hand trailing up through the valley of your breasts, while the other cups your cun—
“Let’s go,” Constantine scoffs, tossing out the butt of his cigarette onto the dirty L.A sidewalk. Chas nods wordlessly as he pulls the gear shift, the engine of the car humming to life.
⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀
This was next level insanity, even for John Constantine, who specialises in paranormal and demon-hunting. Having been stalking you for the last two weeks, he gathered a rough outline of your daily routine. When he wasn’t busy loitering Midnite’s bar, or gunning down half-breeds back to hell— he invited himself into your apartment.
Invited is a generous euphemism for what one would call “breaking and entering”. Amidst your heated argument, two weeks ago (now, two and a half— but it’s not as if Constatine’s not keeping track..), you hurriedly pushed him out the door, leaving him with his own copy of your keys.
If the first crime wasn’t heinous enough, snooping was slowly edging itself onto the list. Constantine traced his finger along your dresser, before carefully pulling open the first drawer, revealing your undergarments. Constantine swallowed the lump in his throat, ignoring the slow blood rush down his lower body.
Hooking his index finger into the waistband, he lifts up a pair of undies. Oh, his favourite pair. The white panties with red waistband and a pretty red bow in the front.
“I’m ready, I-I really want to,” you pressed your lips into a thin line, glancing upwards at Constantine. You laid back on the bed, with him straddling you as he cranes his neck to the crook of your neck.
“Want to.. what?” He teases, coaxing the words out your mouth. "Use your words."
Embarrassment flooding your face as you close your eyes. A heat blooms in your lower regions when you feel Constantine press his thumb against your panty-covered clit. “I-I want you to.. be my f-first..” you stammer as he begins rubbing soft circles.
Granted these weren’t the original ones, as he had ruthlessly torn them off your pretty little body that night. Must’ve gotten another pair, he thinks to himself as he slowly slides them into his jacket pocket.
The demon-hunter turns his attention over to your bed; dishevelled as ever, with half the blanket on the floor. You were never very organised and Constantine often chastised you for it.
“It’s like a damn tornado blew in here,” Constantine grimaces at the state of your room. Not that he particularly cared— his place looked considerably worse, but he just could never seem to stop those cruel taunts from slipping past his lips.
“Sorry,” you murmur, shame evident in your voice.
Constantine smirks to himself as he glances down at his magnum opus. His first trick up his sleeve.
You were always the photographer in the relationship, but it's time you were the muse.
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“Oh, son of a bitch!” You rattle your keys in the keyhole, internally cursing at the landlord for never considering a renovation for this decrepit apartment complex. The rusty door squeaked open, allowing you to rush in and dump the bag of groceries onto your kitchen counter.
Since you’ve last seen your ex-boyfriend, you’ve practically eaten (or thrown in a fit of rage) all the food in your apartment in a state of heartbreak and depression. The empty silence was deafening, as you were normally used to the sound of Constantine cleaning his guns or pouring you two a glass of whiskey.
The floor creaked as you walked through your unlit hallway to your room. Along with rusty doors came the lack of electricity. Constantine always pushed for you to move into his place, as he was getting sick of coming over to this “dump”— but clearly that wasn’t a plan for you anymore.
You enter your dreary bedroom, ignoring the sudden prickling sensation spreading across the back of her neck, as if something was watching her.
“Jesus, it’s so dark..” you continue muttering to yourself, vehemently pressing on and off on your lights. The lights finally flicker on, revealing the horror splashed across the room.
Your heart drops.
Hundreds of polaroids lying on your bed, and the floor. Most of them— if not all of them are of you, in very compromising positions. You rush towards your bed, tears pricking your eyes and fear washing over you as you pick up a random polaroid with faint scribbling on the back. Upclose, it was a photograph of you splayed on the bed, your breasts covered in hickeys and stomach covered in cum. You see a familiar tattooed forearm in the photograph, his fingers plunged deep into your cunt. Looking at the bottom of the polaroid, you’re able to make out the poor penmanship.
“For.. my.. bunny,” you whisper aloud.
“Took you long enough.”
A sultry voice interrupts your thoughts. You whip your body around, and gasp at the sight of him in the corner of your room. Constantine’s hand reaches for the door handle, slamming it shut and curtly locking it.
You were now trapped in the lion's den— and he was starving.
“You’re sick,” you spit at him, tossing the polaroid at him. Your chest tightened and your breath shaking as you tried to put distance between you and the devil incarnate. The tall, brooding, man edged closer to you. “W-What is this? W-Where?.. When?”
“I have plenty more, so I wouldn’t worry your empty little head of yours about how I got them,” Constantine quirks a brow, a shit eating grin etching on his lips. Your lower lip wobbled, and the familiar sting in your throat bloomed.
“You’re s-sick!” You stammer, overwhelmed with this betrayal. Even from the start you weren’t a fan of Constantine’s obsession with using a camera during sex. But, with his smooth tongue, and honeyed words, you were too fucked out your mind to even care when he pulled out a camera from the nightstand.
“I want you out! Now!” Your fists push against his chest, barely even knocking him back. His eyes narrowed into slits, letting out a small scoff. Suddenly, he reaches for your forearm, spinning you around till your back connected with his chest. Letting out a cry, you thrashed fruitlessly in his grip.
“Now, now. Play nice,” he shuffles through his jacket pocket and retrieves a small camcorder camera. Out of breath, you remain in his firm grasp, your nails digging into his arm. Constantine flips open the side of the camera, and the screen freezes for a second before loading. Even with the poor pixelated quality, you recognized it immediately. You swallow a lump in your throat as he presses play.
“Oh— Oh, god, John. Mhmm.. y-you feel so good.”
The distorted audio echoed through the room, and you felt your ears burning. Shutting your eyes, you turn your head away from the video.
“No, no, no, you don’t. This is the best part,” he nudges the back of your shoulder, and reluctantly you glance back at the camera.
“Please, please, please, let me cum. Oh fuck!”
“Turn this off!” You shout, feeling as though you were going to implode with humiliation. Constantine, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough of this. He watched intently at the twitch of your brows, the wobble of your lower lip, and the hot tears brimming your waterline.
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Constantine finally released you and your body met the soft comforter of the bed. Before you could try to scramble away, a weight was pressed down on you as Constantine straddled you. With one knee planted in between your thighs, a hand wrapped around your wrists, pinning you down.
“Oh God, John— let me go!” you wail.
“I am your God.”
His knee shuffles closer to your clothed cunt, applying enough pressure to make you throb. You hated the pain he inflicted on your heart, but craved the pleasure he inflicted on your body. You clenched your fists, aching to have something to hold onto.
“You stupid, little thing,” he huffs, as his hand reaches for your jeans, unbuttoning them. Instinctively, you feel a wet patch in your panties, and the pulsing in your cunt. “You barely even tried to run, it’s almost as if you wanted me to get you back.”
You shake your head, goosebumps appearing on your skin as he pulls your pants down your legs, revealing your thighs. Covered in purple love bites, your face flushes with embarrassment. Constantine pushes your panties to the side, exposing your glistening cunt. Your breath hitches as he spreads your pussy lips with two fingers. He leaned closer, a glob of spit hitting your clit, making you arch your back.
“My bratty girl, you like making a fuss, don’t you?” He coos, his thumb rubbing painfully slow circles on your hard bud. His grip loosens on your wrist and attaches itself to your neck. You press your nails into his wrist, leaving crescent moon shaped marks as you try to suppress the bubbling moans in your throat— not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Look at that.. just a little attention from me, and the brat shuts up,” he snides.
You feel two fingers plunge into your hole, and a desperate mewl escapes your lips. You don’t miss the way Constantine’s eyes light up, and his grip tightening on your throat. “You’ve been a bad, fucking, girl, baby.”
Your eyelids flutter as you try to keep them open, the overwhelming pleasure triumphs over the absurdity of the situation. “Think you should be punished? Maybe, I should show our little movies to your friends?”
Your head shoots up, but he quickly pushes you back down. “N-No, please— John, don’t.” Incessant pleas fall from your puffy lips. You start to squirm, moving your hips in momentum with his fingers, chasing for relief.
“Uh, uh, uh—” he tuts, stopping all motion and earning a choked sob from you. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. Now, what’d you say? I’ll make a couple copies… send them out—”
“John, p-please, I’m begging you. D-Don’t.”
His fingers retreat from your pussy, your hole empty and begging to be touched. The edging was torturous— as if your entire lower regions were aching. The shuffling of his belt buckle hits your ears as you close your eyes, letting the stray tears fall down your face.
His hands were now harsh on your waist, as he positioned his flushed cock to your hole before slowly thrusting inside. A sinful moan escapes your throat, and your legs naturally wrapped around him, pulling him deeper inside. The sound of skin slapping fills the room in combination to your weak mewls, and his low groans.
Constantine’s face now inches from yours and you could feel his hot breath on your cheek. You wrap your hand around his bicep, hiding your sweaty face and glassy eyes. Your fluttering walls haven’t gotten re-used to his large size quite yet. “I hate when y-you’re so mean to me,” you sob pathetically, with a heavy heart.
“I know, baby, I know,” he purrs, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, and tasting your salty tears. “But, she doesn’t.”
Your walls clench tighter around his cock at his words. Constantine’s low groans vibrating in your ear, you felt the knot in your core tighten.
“You pull this shit again, and I’m sending it to every goddamn person in Los Angeles. You got that, bunny?” He whispers venomously, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.
You reply with a weak nod, as he slows down his thrusts.
“Say you love me,” he demands. Constantine’s fingers dig painfully into your cheeks as he forces you to look at him. Your vision blurry from all the tears, you could barely make out his silhouette.
“I-I—” you were interrupted by a particularly hard thrust. “I l-love you, John..”
“And?”
He begins to pick up the pace once again, his balls slapping harshly against the curve of your ass. Your puffy cunt was begging for release.
“I need you. I need you so badly, John,” you give in. You tell him what he wants to hear— what he knows. You do love him. Even with his vicious tongue, and cruel touch, you’ve never loved anyone more than him.
“There’s my girl,” he presses his lips to yours, swallowing your moans.
One day, just maybe, he’ll need you just as much as you need him.
﹙ ♡ ﹚─ taglist: @desoolate @ruskaroma @vezuiv @hypnoticvamp @sughcashsaiki @slutforsoldierboy @jaga2137 @br-2408 . . !
let me know if anyone wishes to be added ∗ ୧ ‧ ₊ ˚
#dark.josie#keanu reeves imagine#keanu reeves x reader#john constantine x reader#john constantine imagine#constantine x reader#tw dubcon
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𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐟 <3
yang jungwon x gn!reader
1.6k words (I DIDN'T MEAN FOR IT TO GO THIS FAR I SWEAR), fluff asf, he brushes ur hair for u?? if that's a warning??, barely proofread
a/n: this was just gonna be bullet point hcs, but it turned into four mini drabbles of wonnie being cute in the context of uni 🤩🤩
— attending 8 o’clock lectures together
“Yn-ie…” Yang Jungwon’s voice sang teasingly into your exposed ear, and the ticklish sensation had you whining and bringing your blanket up over the side of your head. It was far too warm under your covers and far too early in the morning for this.
You felt his body weight dip the bed slightly as he sat next to your form. He placed a hand on your shoulder and gently shook you. “C’mon, honey. I know it’s hard, but it’s only 90 minutes.”
“Only?” You whined again. “But Wonnie, I don’t wanna—”
“I’ll buy you coffee.”
You paused; then you were begrudgingly peeling off the layers of blankets on top of you, your hand reaching for your phone on the nightstand. Jungwon chuckled, fully amused by the little bit of hair sticking up at the back of your head and the adorable way your face scrunched up when you yawned. “Okay. I’m up.”
A pair of dimples appeared in his cheeks as he smiled. “That’s it, honey.” He leaned forward to press a kiss to your cheek with a delightfully teasing mwah! “Now hurry! I wanna get there before the line builds up.”
You pouted at him. “College kids don’t wake up this early,” you grumbled, but forced yourself out of bed. You stumbled into the bathroom, eyes wincing at the brightness of the lights. “There will be no line.”
You heard his voice from the main bedroom. “Hey! I’ll come in there and brush your teeth for you if you don’t stop arguing with me.”
“Then do it,” you grumbled, reaching for your toothbrush to smear a dollop of toothpaste onto the bristles.
Jungwon appeared behind you in the mirror. His dark bangs framed his face quite nicely, and as always, he looked so awake and put together in the morning. He dug into one of the drawers under the sink and withdrew your hairbrush, before beginning to gently brush out your hair. “You’re so slow.”
You scowled at him. “This is what you get for making me take this class with you.”
He released an exasperated sigh. “You’ll get used to it.”
— walks you home when you have late classes
Your brain was buzzing with information overload as you stumbled out of the chemistry laboratory building and into the cool night. Your group mates who had just finished with you weren’t far behind, but the four of you usually scattered as soon as the lab was complete. You grabbed your lanyard from your backpack, hand primed on the pepper spray, when you glanced up and noticed the figure standing to the side of the walkway on his phone.
“Wonnie?”
Jungwon’s head perked up, and when he saw it was you, his face lit up with a smile and his phone was tucked away. “Hi, baby.”
“What’re you doing here? I thought you were gonna try and go to sleep early.” He had practically been falling asleep over his lunch today and you feared he was gonna fall face-first into his instant ramen bowl. You’d somehow convinced him to agree to finishing his work and then crashing early tonight, but you supposed Jungwon never really agreed.
He hooked his arm with yours as the two of you began walking, the side of your body pressed against his to generate a little bit of warmth. You appreciated the intimacy. “Well, I was doing my calculus homework, and then I fell asleep at one point. When I woke up, it was like… already nine o’clock, so I thought I’d come pick you up.”
As much as you wanted him to rest, this made your heart flutter nonetheless. You had been dreading the walk back to your dorm alone and in the dark. It would be a good fifteen or so minutes back, but now that Jungwon was here, it wouldn’t be so bad.
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” you said, smiling at him with an ill-concealed fondness. You quickly leaned over to press a kiss to his jaw and he broke into that beautiful smile again. “Thank you.”
He shrugged, but ducked his head for a moment as if suddenly shy and sheepish. “Yeah, well, I wanted to make sure you got home safe, y’know? Can’t have anything bad happen to my baby.”
— drags you toward the lawn to have lunch or to just vibe
The doors of the lecture hall smacked shut behind you as you and Jungwon made your way down the steps and toward the path that would take you back to the dorms. The sun hung high in the sky, but it wasn’t too hot, thankfully. Rather, the weather was actually quite comfortable and wrapped you in just the right amount of warmth like an embrace.
“Okay, so what I don’t get is why we never thought of underwater archaeology in the first place,” Jungwon rambled as he unconsciously reached for your hand and laced his fingers with yours. His free hand was used to gesture about wildly as he spoke. “I mean, it’s so cool, but it took them until the 80s to actually establish institutes for that?”
You hummed your agreement and acknowledgement. “Mmm, yeah, I get what you’re saying. To be honest, I’m sure it’s been done before, just not so… what’s the word?”
“Globally? Officially? Legal—” Jungwon cut himself off just as you entered the quad area. The walkway was lined with triangles of lawn space and cobblestone paths crisscrossing through the greenery. Some people lounged beneath the shade of the massive oak trees while others soaked in the warmth of the sun. “Yn, let’s sit.”
You sent him a confused look. “Huh?”
His eyes turned up into happy, little crescents. He nodded toward the grass. “We’ve got time before your next lecture.”
You couldn’t resist. “Ah, okay—”
His giggles of delight blessed the air and he was suddenly hauling you toward an empty space on one of the grass islands, hand tugging you behind him. You set your backpacks down by you and let your legs spread out before you. Jungwon collapsed next to you before flopping his upper body and head into your lap.
“You’re cute,” you said to him, leaning over his face to block the sun from blinding him.
His cheeks colored a light pink, and in an effort to not be one-upped, he said, “Hey, c’mere. Lemme kiss you.”
— takes you out to try different study spots
“I have to say, this is much better than hiding in the bookshelves,” you said as you and Jungwon walked into one of the cafes along the university district street. Lo-fi music waltzed through the room, accompanied by the sounds of light chatter and some keyboards. Most people were by themselves or with one other person, earbuds plugged into their ears and their attention tuned into their work or the snack food on the plate next to them.
Jungwon slung an arm over your shoulders and led you to the front counter to order something. “For sure, for sure. But I did like the privacy of it.”
“Kissing does not constitute as studying though, Jungwon.”
He smirked. “It is productive though.”
Before you could retort, he was already ordering a cup of coffee for himself. He sent you an innocent glance. “Honey, wanna share a slice of black forest cake?”
You shook out of your flustered daze. “Oh, uh, sure.” Though, you noted that impish gleam in his pretty eyes. “I’d also like a glass of iced tea, please.”
When the two of you had finished up at the cashier, you went to find a nice place to sit. Near the window, there was a small booth available, perfect for just the two of you. As you slid into the booth, Jungwon appeared with a tray of your purchased items.
“I figured we could start with chem—”
Jungwon’s eyes widened in surprise as he had already stabbed a piece of cake with his fork. “Oh. Whoops.”
You laughed a little and grabbed your own fork. “Okay, okay. We can try the cake first.”
“No, no, no—here.” He stopped your hand with his own, then lifted his fork of cake across the table and to your lips. You sighed as soon as the sweet chocolate and tart cherry combination hit your tongue. That was really good cake.
You watched as Jungwon stabbed another piece of the cake with his fork to put into his mouth. As soon as he swallowed, he said, “We indirectly kissed.”
You nearly snorted. “That’s why you stopped me from getting cake?”
He pouted slightly. “Well, duh. And I fed you some anyway.” A smile worked his way to his mouth as he watched the way you deadpanned at him. He set down his fork for a second while he dug around his backpack. “Okaay, enough games, Yn. Let’s get to studying.”
“Yang Jung—”
“I think I’d be able to see your reading materials better if I sat next to you.”
You sent him another look and he burst out laughing. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, honey.” But despite that, he still moved his backpack out of his way of sliding into the booth beside you, squishing his body up beside yours. He glanced at you from the side, that mischievous look in his eyes present once more.
“This is a date, isn’t it? We’re not actually gonna study?” You asked when he failed to actually bring his notebook or laptop when he moved over.
He grinned. “Mhm. Just enjoy it.”
You definitely enjoyed it, alright, as soon as you accepted your fate. No studying would be done that afternoon under Jungwon’s watch. But you didn’t mind much. Snuggling up with Jungwon in that booth, feeding each other cake, and hearing about each other’s days was a lot better than the original plan anyway.
enha m.list
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#enhypen x reader#yang jungwon x reader#jungwon x reader#enhypen fluff#enhypen headcanons#enhypen drabbles#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#jungwon fluff#jungwon imagines#jungwon drabbles#jungwon headcanons#jungwon scenarios
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ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁✰ With Leon and hybrid! reader…
As much as I love a good Leon and hybrid! reader fic… there needs to be more variety! Puppies are cute and so are bunnies and kitties, but what about birds? Or deer? Fish?
Warnings?: None! Purely SFW, fluffy content.
Note:(These are all my hc’s and ideas on those specific hybrid mixes, sorta just random lol).
With Bird Hybrid! Reader…
Like, imagine Leon with a bird hybrid. He’d be absolutely mesmerized with your pretty wings. They could be a pretty brown, like a finches. Or a colorful rainbow, like a Scarlet Macaw’s.
Of course, there would be feathers everywhere. On the bed, the couch, the floor… but Leon doesn’t mind. Not one bit. In fact, he’d collect them all, keep them safe in a jar or in a drawer. All those feathers are precious to him, because they were once a part of you.
Though the cleanup certainly does take a while. And it mayyy occasionally have him huffing to himself.
you’d wake him up with your pretty chirps, the sound reaching his ears like a sweet bell. The soft, excited flapping of your wings send a light breeze, eliciting goosebumps to emerge on his skin. Such a great thing to wake up to, really. Even if he’s a little grumpy at times.
Even if it comes with the occasional grumbled: “Jeez, if I wanted a morning rooster i’d get one…”
Did I mention he loves your wings? He loves your wings. And you do too. You take great care of them. The hybrid center provides preening help; due to a lack of a beak, you have to use specialized items from the center. Such as specific oils and moisturizers, (and Leon helps on occasion too when he can! Just a simple pinch and twist and a pin feather is out whenever you go through a molt).
Having to research birds in general before retrieving you from the center, Leon had already picked up on a lot of your behavior. Your feathers fluff up on a particularly cold day? He’s immediately by your side trying to warm you up. Your pupils dilate upon seeing something interesting? He points it out and brings you closer.
Though of course, those behaviors could come from negative causes as well. Such as seeing something distressing or hearing something loud. Leon soothes you as best as he can, cooing reassurances and comforting words.
“Hey, birdie. Look at me. S’okay, yeah? Just focus on me. I got you.”
With Deer Hybrid! Reader…
I’d like to imagine that instead of retrieving you from the center, he’d find you in a forest. It’s a few days into winter and theres a light fluff of snow coating everything: the trees, the grass, and you.
He’s on his way back home from a mission, but due to how far he is he decides to stay at a cabin for the night. The sight is pretty, and despite the cold, it’s cozy.
Though, just as he’s bringing his things in, something catches his eye. It’s you, standing a few feet away, curiously mesmerized by the pretty light emitting from the cabin’s interior.
Your antlers (if masc) stand tall and proud, covered in a light layer of snow.
(If fem) Your pretty ears flicker lightly, the slow falling snow landing on them and painting them white.
Leon’s completely entranced. From your doe eyes to the tail attached to you, a light brown with a pearly white underneath. He’s heard of hybrids before, but only the typical ones. You, you’re different.
And he has to have you. So he spends several days at that cabin, more than he’d admit. Forgetting about his original goal to head home, he makes a new one.
Throughout those days, he leaves food. Attempting to coax you closer, just enough to see the pretty fur on your ears and tail. You’re so skittish, so easily spooked away. And at times it gets frustrating, but he pushes through.
Because he needs you. and he will get you. Besides, he kinda has that hunter mentality at times, doesn’t he?
(I can’t decide on if a deer hybrid would have a satyr-like appearance, since with just the ears and tail it gets boring. So, for the time being i’m going with that!)
With Fish Hybrid! Reader…
With hybrid centers, I like to think that there’s different ones that cater to whatever specific type of hybrids they have under their care.
So for aquatic hybrids, they’d have a more aquarium built center.
And when you piqué Leon’s interest, he immediately looks into proper care for aquatics online.
Oh boy, that’s a lot of money.
Not a big deal for an agent like him. So, he buys the best of the best. Though, that involves some renovations to his place of stay. After all, you need a huge tank, and lots of water.
not to mention filters and tank decorations… it’s a whole process, alright?
However, once you’re moved in— Leon finds himself rather frustrated. He’s completely hypnotized by the way you move underwater, the ethereal blue glow making the scales of your tail gain an iridescent glow. But, he can’t really touch you, now can he?
He needs air to breath, and you can’t stay out of water.
But that doesn’t stop him. Because even if his heart flutters just by seeing you, he needs more. Pressing his palm against the glass of your huge tank isn’t enough. Besides, he can swim, right?
Well, not frequently. But with you in his life, swimming has become a part of it too. Constantly, he finds himself in your tank until his skin starts to prune. Only then will he get out.
In the water, he doesn’t hesitate on touching you. His fingertips glide against your scales, feeling the smooth center of the hard shells all the way to the sharp edges. It never fails to send pleasant shivers down his spine.
“Pretty,” he’d comment in a soft murmur, eyes slowly tracing over the outline of every cycloid scale.
What type of fish are you? A multicolored Koi? A sunny goldfish? Or maybe a neon Beta? It doesn’t matter, whatever you are; Leon is absolutely smitten.
The water may be cold, but somehow, you manage to warm him up every time. He’s careful not to damage your delicate fins whenever he embraces you with his arms. He wishes he could hold you forever, wishes the elements weren’t so cruel in this case.
But for now, he’s content with what he has. For you, it’s all worth it.
(Essentially, reader’s appearance is that of a mermaid’s. But, I didn’t wanna consider it mermaid exactly cause, there’s like so much pretty fish with different forms and shapes. That’s more interesting to me than a typical mermaid, iykwim LOL).
I had to research so much y’all omg.
ANYWAYS, these were my little random ass ideas on those specific hybrid types. Most of it was bad building BUT I tried my best so. I hope you liked reading!
#kastelixa ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱#kastelixa#leon kennedy x you#leon kennedy x y/n#leon kennedy fluff#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x y/n#resident evil x reader#fluff#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader
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Short Takeoff, Vertical Landing (John Price x Reader)
John gives you a gift and you explore your understanding of the man.
3.1k words (longer than I normally like, my bad)
CW: swearing, sex (MDNI - 18+ only)
This is shameless slice of life smut - you've been warned!
This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U series, the Masterlist is pinned to my blog.
Feedback welcome!
Ao3
It takes a moment for you to compute what John’s words really mean, most of your higher brain function temporarily offline. Your body is still humming with the remnants of pleasure, making sitting up a languid affair. John’s pulling something out of his bedside drawer that is very much not shaped like a condom, to your partial dismay.
You crawl across the bed on slightly unsteady limbs and push your hair back, its disheveled state threatening to obscure your view of the handsome man in front of you. He’s holding out a flat, long box to you and you know instantly it’s jewelry. You hesitate, your experience with previous boyfriends and jewelry not typically good ones. The item in question almost inevitably not to your taste and something generic a salesperson has sold them. You quietly dread having another random piece you’ll be obliged to wear. Unfortunately, John reads you like a book.
“This was for Christmas but I fucked that up. If you don’t like it, we can change it.”
His deep voice is calm, but there’s a sudden tension to the set of his shoulders that gives him away as he holds the box out to you. If you didn’t know him so well you likely wouldn’t have noticed the slight shift in his stance but whatever is in the box in his hands means something to him. His willingness to interrupt sex for this should have tipped you off to that, but you freely blame the orgasm you’ve already had for being slow on the uptake.
The slim box is heavier than you expect, and you flick your eyes up to John’s face, the full weight of his attention settling on you again. You subconsciously hold your breath as you open the lid, the light of the room slowly revealing strands of luminous pearls gently forming a wave in the cradle of the box. The two long strands are held together with what’s obviously a vintage rectangle clasp, the aged silver and small diamonds sparkling amongst the gently rolling pearls. The breath you’ve been holding leaves your lungs in a surprised rush.
“Oh my god – John.”
“You like it?”
“I love it, this is exactly my style. Oh, this is gorgeous! It must have cost you a fortune!”
John doesn’t comment on the cost, a slow smile replacing the carefully blank expression he’s been wearing since you took charge of the box.
“Thought of you when I saw them. I’m glad you like them, darling.”
He’s about to say something else but changes his mind, reaching out to cup your jaw for a kiss instead. You clock the shift and run your fingertips over the pearls lightly, enjoying the feel of the cool smooth globes for a moment while you consider the man in front of you. You slowly piece together his request for your dress from earlier with the unspoken words he’s just swallowed and look down at the pearls in the box.
“Should I wear them?”
You know that’s the right question when his pupils dilate, his fingers spasming along your jaw as a full body shiver runs through him. You lift the necklace carefully from the box, handing him the empty container back. Without looking he tosses it, sending his cell phone and spare change flying from the impact. He doesn’t flinch, his eyes locked on you as you settle the pearls around your neck, spinning the clasp so it sits against your nape. The cool spheres brushing against your skin raise goosebumps again, your nipples tightening. You wonder what you must look like, perched nearly naked on the edge of the bed in nothing but a bra and the pearls he’s bought you, your hair a post orgasm mess. You’re about to run your hand over it self-consciously but John steps into your space, tilting your head back as he bends to kiss you again.
“You’re stunning; I love that I get to see you like this.”
You aren’t expecting that kind of tender admission from the aroused man in front of you, and it makes the breath catch in your throat, your hands wrapping around his wrists. John swallows the soft hiccup of breath, kissing you hungrily as he cups the back of your head. The sweep of his tongue over yours with the hint of your taste still discernable unlocks something in you. Suddenly you find yourself rising up on your knees to kiss him back, John’s appreciative groan giving you a jolt of empowerment. Your hands scrabble over his shoulders, sinking your fingertips into the heavy muscle as you press against his solid frame. John’s deft fingers undo your bra, breaking away from your mouth to tug it off your arms. The pearls make a soft sound as they clink together with your movements, sending a shiver down your spine.
The planes of John’s stomach jump as your hands land on his lower abdomen, fingers trailing through the dark hairs there. They work their way under the band of his pants, shoving them down his shifting hips as his mouth drops to seek out the line of your collarbone. He nips the rounded corner of your shoulder before kicking off his pants and boxers, his erection bobbing against your hip. Your fingers find him automatically, wrapping around the hard length of him and stroking, his hiss of pleasure ghosting across your neck. The gentle rattle of the pearls as your arm moves back and forth is seductive, bracing yourself with a palm in the centre of John’s chest, the dark hairs crinkling under your palm. You give him a gentle shove with your fingertips and when that doesn’t register you remove your hand from around his length, placing both palms on his chest to direct him into bed. John allows himself to be moved, landing nearly in the middle of the bed, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that makes your belly quiver.
His gaze follows the sway of the pearls over your breasts as you crawl up his body, sliding your palms up the hair of his thick thighs to cup him, forcing a jagged exhale out of his lungs. The head of his cock is flushed a deep red, a matching colour working its way over his throat and chest. His stomach pulls taut as he watches you bend over him, stroking him firmly, foreskin pulling back as you wrap your lips around the tip. John’s groan of pleasure rumbles through his body, his fingers landing in your hair. You open your jaw take as much of him as you can, making a few enthusiastic passes before pulling back and swirling your tongue around the head, tracing with the flat of your tongue. John flexes his hips, chasing the sensation with a guttural moan that only encourages you to wreck him further, your eyes landing on his blissed-out face.
The pearls trail through his dark body hair, making a mouth-watering contrast between the cool luminous globes and the heated flesh in your grasp. You return your attention to the tip of his cock, lapping your tongue over the underside while you fondle his balls. As his hips arch again you open your jaw and let the rise send his length down your throat, the stretch making your eyes water. His choked gasp and the press of his blunt fingernails into your scalp telegraph his pleasure at your unexpected action. You hold still for a moment, your body fighting the invasion, your gag reflex fluttering around him before you pull back. The salty taste of his pre-cum coats your tongue and the shuddering deep groan you pull from him as you ease off goes straight to your pussy, a low throb starting to build again between your legs.
“Fuck, that feels so good.”
The low reverberation of his voice rolls down your spine and you flex your fingers against his hip in response, encouraging him to repeat the action. The naked desire in his voice makes you want to rub your thighs together and purr so you do the next best thing and moan around his tip, forcing a sharp gasp out of his lungs. His control is slipping, you can tell by the way his hips buck upwards, not even and measured as before. His length slides down your throat again, the quivering muscles wrenching an unguarded moan from his chest. The pearls draped over your skin start to collect against your throat and you realize he’s gathering them in his fist. You follow the unspoken direction and ease off, long strings of saliva connecting you for a moment after he slips from your mouth.
“Condom, now.”
He releases the necklace to let you lean over and fish a condom out of the drawer and you follow the order without argument, wiping your face in the process. Your willingness to be ordered around ends abruptly with a smack to his hand when he tries to take it away from you and take over. You end up straddling his wide thighs to pin him down with your weight, knowing that John only stays flat on his back because it’s what you want. He lets you roll the condom down his hard length and press him up against his abdomen so you can scoot forward over his hips. His breathing is laboured, your hands on him making his muscles contract as he fights to lay still as you settle over him. His eyes are dark and intense, locked on you as the pearls sway over your body with your movements, the gentle roll of them over your skin like a caress.
“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous.”
John breathes the words as you kneel over him, reaching behind you to wrap your fingers around him again, guiding him to your slick entrance, focused on lining yourself up. You answer him with a heated kiss, your attention on the stretch as you lower yourself, spearing your aching pussy on his tense body. Your palm rests on the steady planes of John’s chest, his head thrown back and the muscles of his neck corded as you slowly start rocking your hips, working him inside until he’s fully seated. He hisses as you rise over him and sink back down, setting a slow and steady pace with a pleased purr. The weight of John’s gaze lands on you again, his hands hovering over your hips as you move, the pearls rocking back and forth over the tight buds of your nipples. The heated drag of his cock through your silken walls has your nails biting into his chest in pleasure. John groans but doesn’t try to shift your hands, his attention fully on you as his hips rock up to meet yours.
“You like seeing me in things you’ve picked out?”
The words fall out of your mouth without any forethought, the part of your brain normally tasked with assimilating information overwhelmed with delicious sensation. The slight rise of John’s hips grinds his public bone against your clit with each downward stroke and your brain goes fuzzy with each lingering contact, shivers running up your spine.
“Yes, yes just like that, bloody hell.”
His hands finally land on your hips, squeezing you as he urges you on, trying to speed you up. You resist, twisting slightly as you rise pulling a low groan out of him, your hands wrapping around his wrists to steady yourself. You slide down his length again, clenching around him as your grind down, biting your bottom lip. There’s a severe look on John’s face as he curses again, your breath coming in shorter pants as you move over him.
“Why that dress?”
John answers that nagging question with the same bald honesty he’s answered everything else you’ve asked of him today, his eyes falling to the spot where your bodies are connected, his fingers dimpling your hips with his grip.
“Don’t think I’ve stopped thinking about you in that dress since you turned up in it.”
You continue your steady pace, John’s flushed face impossible to look away from. There’s devotion etched there, and your heart squeezes painfully in your chest, feeling too large for your ribcage.
“When you were away? Did you ever think of me in that dress?”
“Every night. Love, please.”
This is as close as you’ve ever heard John beg for anything, an echo of his words from this morning. His desperation sends a thrill through your belly, speeding you up, the pearls clacking together against your heated flesh. You can feel John’s cock jerking deeply inside you, bumping against the sensitive patch of flesh that resides there and it weakens your thighs, your body wanting to go pliant against him.
“John- “
“I’ve got you.”
He understands immediately and grips the globes of your ass as you drape over his heaving chest, your breathy panting muffled against the base of his neck. He braces his feet against the bed and fucks up into you, his grip spreading your cheeks as you moan into his ear. You can barely hear his muttered curse over the rush of blood in your ears and your own wanton noises, unable to stop yourself as John chases his pleasure now, his grip bruising. You nip at his thick shoulder, your teeth razing over his skin, his low rumbling moan vibrating through you as his blunt cock relentlessly buries itself in your slick pussy. The tightening coil of pleasure builds at the base of your spine, your muscles clenching around him as he buries himself and holds still, his hands shifting back to your hips.
“Sit up, love, I want to see you.”
You follow John’s order mindlessly, dragging your palms over his chest to press yourself back up, biting your lip when John twitches deep inside you, meeting his heated gaze. To your surprise he sits up too, the thick muscles of his abdomen flexing and pressing against you as he settles inches from your face, his legs going akimbo behind you. His big palms land on the tops of your thighs, squeezing your flesh in encouragement.
“Bounce, love.”
Again, you follow his direction without any compunction, and immediately your nails dig into the tops of his shoulders as this position offers more friction against your clit. A gasp is torn from your throat after the first experimental rise of your hips, and soon you land on a rhythm that has the frame of the bed groaning. The pearls are trapped between your bodies, the soft clinking nearly inaudible as the tension in you builds quickly, the angle making your toes curl and your moans climb in volume. John’s strong hands steady your sides, his body jerking up into you with each bounce, the walls of your soaked pussy bearing down on him tightly. His eyes are inches from yours, and you’re transfixed and unable to look away, his pupils blown.
All it takes is a firm smack on your ass to tip you over the edge, the jolt enough to make you clench around him, your nails raking over his back as you try desperately to ground yourself against the sudden cresting wave of your orgasm. A keening cry escapes you, your inner thighs trembling with strain as you try to clamp around his hips, the rhythmic pull of your slickened walls dragging a primal sound of out John’s chest before he tips you onto your back. His demanding thrusts send sparks shooting up your spine, catching the back end of your orgasm and drawing it out. You can feel the thundering of your heart in each extremity, your hands wrapped around John’s biceps as his hips jerk into the soft flesh of your body, the wet slap replacing the groaning of the bedframe. John’s thrusts quickly lose their rhythm, your leaking pussy pulsing around him tightly, drawing a broken sound out of him. He jerks into you deeply, making tiny little thrusts as he cums hard, his forehead landing on your shoulder as he groans loudly.
You stay locked like that, desperately trying to catch your breath for a few long minutes, John recovering quicker than you. You wordlessly protest when he tries to disentangle himself, tightening your limbs around him with a groan.
“I love you but I’ve got to get rid of this condom, darling.”
The low rumble of his voice in your ear convinces you to relax your hold on him and he extricates himself gingerly, leaving you sprawled the wrong way on the bed, too relaxed to bother moving the right way round. Finally, your heart rate slows and you marshal yourself to sit up, propping yourself on an arm. The pearls drape gracefully over your body as you move, swaying with you. John is at the sink when you meet his warm gaze across the room.
“You alright, love?”
“mhm, just needed a minute.”
John watches, half amused as you wriggle out of bed, making your way on wobbly legs to join him in the bathroom to pee. He leaves and returns with the case for the pearls, placing it on the counter by your elbow as you wash and dry your hands.
“John?”
You ask as he turns back to the bed, tugging the duvet cover with the wet spot off the duvet and tossing it towards the laundry hamper. The case for the pearls closes with a click as you return them to their place and you nudge the box into it's new spot beside your perfumes lined up on the counter.
“Hm?”
John’s proclivity for order and neatness distracts him from answering you and you smile affectionately as he wrestles the duvet back into a fresh cover. Once he’s satisfied you climb into bed, watching the curve of his spine as he bends to collect his cell and change from where they have scattered.
“What should I know about Kate before our dinner?”
He straightens and replaces the objects in his hands on his bedside table, crawling into bed and spooning you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he rolls you on to your side. You offer no resistance, sighing softly, feeling deeply content and drowsy, your fingers tracing over his forearm.
“Well, to start she’s American, and a very good poker player. Impressive poker face.”
From your position you can’t tell if he’s joking or not but you let his words roll over you nonetheless, the rise and fall of his voice soothing. Exhaustion from the highs and lows of the day are pulling you under before you can learn what part of America she hails from, or ask any more questions about the mysterious figure in John’s life.
Next Chapter
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The Cardinal's Bride, Chapter 7: The Ministry
Previous Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 ~~ Pinterest Board ~~ Spotify Playlist
Thank you to @tasty-ribz for the wanted poster! Lots of other amazing people have done fanart of Cowboy Copia so please go check it out: @meowsaidmissy (1 / 2), @snail-shell2335 here, @vahvco here, @ghulehgwen here, @rabidghoul here, @nocterish here, @enjoy-my-swearing here, @blacktie-whitenoise (1 /2), z-xmyers (1/2/3), _simpera_ on instagram and valkyrieinpink on twitter. Also a huge thank you to @kissingghouls for aggressively holding my hand and letting me scream at her about cowboys.
~ Cardinal Copia x Female Reader: western au, slow burn, romance, NSFW, 18+ only MDNI, 7,100 words ~
(This chapter includes the interlude that was posted previously, but please read through again so you don't miss sheriff Terzo)
“Copia did what?”
Secondo watched as Alpha nervously shifted from foot to foot. The Ghoul cleared their throat before continuing.
“He, uh, kidnapped Saltarian’s fiancé. Sir.”
Of all the fucking stupid things his brother could have done. He clenched his fists on top of his desk and resisted the urge to flip the damn thing over. When would Copia learn to let shit go?
“How did you find this out?”
“There was a courier that rode through about an hour ago. Dropped off some updated fugitive info and some new wanted posters from around the area.” Alpha pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and nervously set it in front of him. “This was in there too.”
Secondo unfolded it and groaned. There was the familiar picture of Copia that was posted everywhere with a damned window but next to it was a picture of a young woman. He got progressively angrier as he skimmed over the text. The Cardinal and his Ghouls kidnapped the generous Mr. Saltarian’s fiance. The poor woman was being held for ransom less than a month away from her wedding. It ended with a quote from the banking magnate that a generous award would be given to anyone with info on the whereabouts of the devil worshiping outlaws.
Unholy fuck.
“Should I wake up the sheriff?”
“What do you think?” He crumbled up the paper and set it on his plate from dinner. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a cigar and his matches. “Wake Omega up instead. I need to know where the fuck mio fratellino is.”
“On it. I’ll have him come here right away.”
Secondo ran a gloved hand through his hair and took a few puffs on the cigar to get it going. After it was lit he flicked the match onto his plate, watching as the paper turned black. His eyes flicked back to Alpha and he called out to him before he left his office.
“Deputy…don’t tell anyone about this, do you understand?”
“Got it, Papa.”
Secondo nodded towards the door but it burst open before Alpha had even turned around.
“What now?”
Mist narrowed her eyes at Secondo’s tone as she shoved past Alpha.
“Got a problem on the floor. Some asshole thinks Cirrus is cheating him at poker.”
He pushed his chair away from his desk and ripped open a drawer. His gun belt rested inside, something he rarely wore anymore. Mostly because he’d be too tempted to shoot anyone that pissed him off.
“She’s supposed to be playing the piano.” Secondo settled the belt around his hips and then grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. “Who the fuck is on stage right now?”
“Cowbell.”
Fucking Cowbell. He straightened his jacket and stalked around his desk, glaring at Alpha when the deputy still hadn’t left.
“Shouldn’t you be doing something?”
Secondo narrowed his eyes when Alpha hesitated.
“Uh, are you going to shoot someone? I could stick aro—“
“You’ll do what I fucking tell you.”
Alpha held his hands up and quickly turned, heading out of Secondo’s office. He could hear the Ghoul’s boots thunking down the hall as he went.
“You ready? Cirrus might’ve killed him by now.”
“I’m not that lucky.”
Mist snorted and turned on her heel, Secondo trailing behind her as she headed out and down to the casino floor. Secondo used the walk to check things over. He could hear the piano playing and Cumulus’s voice accompanying it. The sounds of glasses clinking and dice hitting tables got louder as the pair started down the stairs. The place wasn’t particularly busy tonight, but there was still a low hum of chatter from the patrons. Secondo easily picked up the sound of an angry customer as they started weaving through the tables.
“I know you fucking cheated so just admit it!”
“You can say it as many times as you want, asshole. It ain’t gonna make it true.”
“I know what I saw, you had cards up your sleeve! I didn’t come to this shithole to be cheated on.” The man took a step towards where Cirrus was still seated and spit at her feet. “Especially not by a woman.”
“I don’t know sweetheart, you look like the kind of guy that gets cheated on by women a lot.”
“You fuc—“
Secondo had reached them right as the man advanced on the Ghoulette. He reached a hand out and stopped the man’s progress, splaying his fingers wide on his chest and shoving him back away from the table.
“What’s the problem here?”
“The problem is this stupid bitch has been cheating and costing me money!”
Cirrus slammed her fist into the table and jumped to her feet.
“If you say I cheated one more fucking time I’m going to slice your damn throat.”
“You’re a fucking che—“
“That’s enough.” Secondo once again had his hand on the man’s chest but this time he grabbed his shirt in his fist. He yanked him closer, blowing smoke down into his face. “My games are fair. My employees don’t cheat. I think you’re just having a bad night friend.”
“I ain’t your friend.” He shoved away from Secondo, stumbling back and falling onto his ass. “Should’ve known a bunch of Satan worshippers would cheat.”
Secondo narrowed his eyes and took a step toward him. He pushed the right side of his jacket back and tucked his thumb into his belt so his palm was close to the handle of his revolver.
“Care to repeat that?”
“You heard me. Everyone knows about you guys. Fucking sacrificing people and animals and shit.”
“Well if you believe the rumors why did you come here? For someone with such a strong moral code you seem willing to revel in sin.” Secondo smirked when Mist stepped close and lifted up on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. “You even spent the night with one of my fallen angels.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Liars. Devil worshippers. Cheaters.” He shook his head as he stared the man down. “Serious accusations from a drunk that can’t back them up.”
Secondo smirked when the man growled and clumsily got to his feet. He was itching for the man to try something. Despite how pissed off he was at Copia, he wasn’t planning on shooting him.
Maybe he’d get to shoot this stronzo instead.
“Oh I can back them up.” The man clumsily got to his feet and reached for his belt. “But first I’m gonna shoot you in your smug fucking face.”
“Are you?” Secondo clicked his tongue and let his palm rest on the handle of his revolver. “What a pity. I had plans for later.”
“Yeah well fuck your pl—“
The man had finally gotten a grip on his gun and pulled on it. He barely had it out of the holster before a gunshot rang out and echoed through the now quiet casino. Secondo watched as his body jerked and collapsed in on itself. The bullet had lodged between his eyes, blood quickly pouring from the wound and dripping onto the floor. Secondo grimaced for a moment before he turned to look at Mist.
“Take care of this please.”
“Yes, Papa.”
Mist pointed at some nearby Ghouls and snapped her fingers. While Earth and Water lifted the body up Secondo uncocked his gun and spun it back into its holster. He turned and took a few steps towards the bar before glancing back at the Ghoulette that was still sitting calmly at the table.
“Cirrus, a moment por favore.”
As he walked towards the bar he shot a look towards Cowbell. The Ghoul took the hint and started playing again, Cumulus’s voice joining not long after. At the bar he leaned against the front of it and nodded towards Air who quickly poured him a whisky. The liquid burned down his throat, but he held it out for a refill. Before he could tip that back Cirrus stepped up to his side and slipped the glass out of his hand, coughing after she tipped the contents into her mouth.
“Lucifer, how do you drink this?”
“You get used to it.” Secondo held his hand out for his glass and nodded towards Air again. As the Ghoul filled it once more he met the Ghoulette’s eyes. “Are you that bored?”
“Can you blame me? There’s nothing to do.”
He raised an eyebrow at her statement, downing his drink in one gulp. When Air filled it once more he handed it to Cirrus.
“Let me guess, you’d rather be riding around with my brother.”
“Well yeah, those shitheads need my help.”
“Do they?” Secondo watched her throat move as she gulped the drink down. “Help with what exactly?”
The only answer he got was Cirrus coughing as the liquid burned her throat again. The fact that she wouldn’t meet his eyes was answer enough though. Copia’s Ghouls were loyal to a fault. When she finally spoke, Secondo froze.
“Don’t you want revenge? For what Saltarian did to your family?”
“What I want is to live my life without looking over my back waiting for the next Saltarian.” He also wanted more whiskey and another cigar. Cirrus sighed and set the glass down at the bar before turning to head back to the poker tables. Secondo shot a hand out and grabbed her wrist tugging it towards him. “I also would like you to take over for Cowbell please.”
Cirrus nodded her head, but when Secondo didn’t let go she turned back to him. He brought his other hand around and slipped his fingers into the sleeves of her top. When he dragged out the two aces he smirked at her and flicked them behind the bar.
“Oh no, how did those get there!”
Secondo snorted and let go of her before pointing towards the stage.
“Piano, please.” He winced as Cowbell hit a few wrong notes. “Before I shoot him too.”
He watched as she made her way to the stage and unceremoniously shoved Cowbell off the piano bench. When Cowbell looked his way he jerked his head towards the bar. Secondo sighed as he watched Cowbell wander over, reaching out for his glass that Air had thankfully refilled again. Before his fingers could close around it another hand intercepted it and Secondo gritted his teeth when he turned to look at the hand’s owner.
He really hated his little brothers.
“Was that a gunshot I heard? In my good Christian town?” Terzo drank the whiskey and then slid the glass back across the bar towards his older brother. Secondo glanced up towards the door when it banged open, an out of breath Alpha stumbling in. He froze when he caught Secondo’s glare, his eyes glancing towards Terzo before he quickly turned on his heel and left. “Oh don’t be mad at Alpha fratello.”
“I needed Omega, not you.”
Terzo smirked and lazily leaned back against the bar.
“Well, I was in Omega’s bed so…” His smirk grew at the look of annoyance on Secondo’s face. “You have become surprisingly uptight for someone in your line of work.”
“I just wish you’d stop sleeping with your deputies.”
“You know me fratello,” Terzo grabbed Secondo’s glass again and held it out for Cowbell who had settled behind the bar. “I sleep with everybody. Right, Cowbell?”
Secondo turned his glare to Cowbell when the Ghoul fumbled the bottle of whiskey in his hands, thankfully catching it before it hit the floor. He turned back to his brother and leaned in to stare him down.
“Did you know what Copia was up to?”
“You mean did I know our little brother planned on kidnapping Mr. Saltarian’s fiancé and ransoming her for a shit ton of money?”
“Si.”
“I did, actually. Thought it sounded like a good time.” Terzo ignored Secondo’s clenched fist slamming onto the top of the bar and turned his eyes toward the casino floor. “Didn’t know he planned on attacking the wedding though.”
“The what?!” He ignored the glances their way and grabbed onto Terzo’s ridiculous velvet vest. “He’s going to do what?”
Terzo’s demeanor changed immediately, his hand shooting up and gripping Secondo’s wrist.
“You’re not as observant as you think you are, fratello. If you were, you would have noticed that Copia has been planning this for a long time.” He dug his fingers into Secondo’s flesh causing the older man to wince and let go. “You also would’ve noticed that you had some of Saltarian’s men here.”
Secondo yanked his arm away and looked out over the crowd. Most had gone back to whatever card or dice games they had been playing. The only face he saw looking his way was Mist’s. She was leaning against a pillar by the roulette table, her steely gaze watching the brothers with interest. He took a deep breath and looked back at Terzo. The shorter man was smoothing his hands down his vest and straightening the sheriff star pinned there.
“I take it Copia is heading back here?”
Terzo snorted and shook his head before looking back at his brother.
“Where else would he go? Should be back tomorrow if everything went well.”
Secondo pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut at the impending headache. That fucking idiot, of course he would come back here. Copia wouldn’t give a second thought to dragging that girl to The Ministry. Probably where he expected to exchange her for the ransom money as well. Willing to endanger everything in order to get his revenge.
“That selfish prick, when is he going to move the fuck on from this?”
“Never, you know this fratello. Copia isn’t going to be happy until Saltarian is dead.”
“Yes well, more then Saltarian is going to die if he continues this idiotic plan of his.” Secondo nodded towards Mist and watched as she slowly made her way over. “I need to buy some time before he gets back here.”
“To do what?”
“To let Saltarian know we aren’t involved in Copia’s bullshit.”
“Who gives a fuck what Saltarian thinks?”
Secondo resisted the urge to grab Terzo again, his wrist still aching from the man’s grip.
“I do and if you could bring yourself to give a shit about anything but getting your dick wet you should too.” He waited for Mist to get to his side before speaking again, “We need to keep Copia away a little longer. Do you know where he is?”
“Somewhere west of the Missouri River.”
Lucifer, please save him from these two. Secondo looked out towards his customers when the majority of them started whistling and clapping. Cirrus and Cumulus were bowing and waving at the crowd before they started another song. His eyes lingered on Cirrus for a moment, an idea forming in his head. She of all people would know where Copia might be. He could send her out to stop him and keep him away while he tried to sort this mess out.
“Cowbell, go switch with Cirrus.”
“But I ju–”
“Now.”
Secondo turned back to his brother and placed a hand on Mist’s shoulder. He could feel how tense she was and knew she had picked up on the seriousness of what was happening.
“Fratello, what are you going to do?”
He ignored his brother and looked back out at the crowd. Secondo could see them now, a few men scattered about that were paying more attention to him and his brother than the games they were supposedly playing. Too involved in whatever game Saltarian and Copia were playing with each other. A game that could easily destroy everything Secondo had worked to build after they settled here all those years ago. He couldn’t let that happen again.
He wouldn’t let that happen again.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Ethel had to come back and get you both.
With Copia’s lips on yours it felt like you were the only two people in the world. You really had no idea that kissing could be so…involved. There had been a few quick pecks from would-be suitors back home. “City boys” that kissed like it was expected and something to get out of the way rather than something to enjoy. Both kept their hands to themselves and stayed a respectable distance away from you as they leaned in for a brief pressing of their lips against yours.
Kissing The Cardinal was a completely different experience.
Copia kissed with his whole body. As it continued he had kept one hand tangled in your hair and his other arm curved around your back. He didn’t seem to want any space between you, something that you had zero complaints about. Your own hands wandered wherever you could reach and you kept track of where he seemed to enjoy being touched the most. So far he had reacted the strongest to your nails running across his scalp, a deep rumble vibrated in his chest whenever you did it.
Even in the midst of your wildest fantasies you had never felt like this before. It felt so good to kiss him, to feel his hands on you. You whimpered into his mouth when his arm moved from behind your back, but he quickly placed his hand on your waist before sliding it down your leg to your knee. He squeezed there and your leg jumped causing him to pull his mouth away and laugh a bit. Copia leaned his forehead against yours, both of you looking into each other’s eyes and panting trying to catch your breath.
“Principessa…” His fingers started to move against your knee and you waited for him to squeeze it again, but instead you felt the cool air of the room hit the skin of your leg. Copia was slowly pulling the hem of the nightgown up. Your skin began to break out in goosebumps all the way from your ankle to your thigh. Copia let his other hand leave your hair and he cupped your cheek instead, his eyes not leaving yours. “Is this alright?”
You had been trying to get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth, but the sudden feeling of his bare hand on your knee turned the word into a gasp. He had your nightgown bunched up and his thumb began to trace circles against your skin. Your legs had begun to tremble in anticipation and maybe in another life you would feel embarrassed for being so needy, but all you felt right now was want and what you wanted was Copia. He was right here, right in front of you and he wanted you too.
Unfortunately that was the moment Ethel decided she had waited long enough and after a series of sharp knocks she had told Copia to leave you alone so you could get dressed. He had called out an apology and then pressed a kiss to your forehead before dropping the hem of your nightgown and letting it settle back at your ankles.
“We’ll pick this up later, eh Principessa?”
He grabbed his clothes from yesterday and then he had turned and left the room with a smirk, telling Ethel good morning again before going to track down Harold and the Ghouls. Ethel had turned her own smirk on you and you could only imagine what you looked like right now. Hair messed up from Copia’s fingers, your lips swollen, not to mention how your cheeks were burning from the scrape of his beard. At least he had fixed your nightgown before he had left.
“Let’s take a look at those clothes, alright dear?”
The rest of the morning was spent with Ethel as she sorted through piles of clothes to find a few things for you to take. You had tried to convince her there really wasn’t room to pack anything extra, but she had her mind made on setting you up with some more practical traveling clothes. Hopefully Copia would be ok with it because it would be nice to have some things that fit you better than someone’s spare pants. At the very least Copia would probably be happy you wouldn’t be wearing Swiss’s shirt anymore.
Ethel spent the time talking about random subjects. You learned about where she grew up and what originally brought her across the country. She shared a few funny stories about her two boys, both of which she and Harold had adopted rather than have any of their own. Ethel’s life had been so different from yours and it was amazing to hear her talk about it all. She had lived a full life even before she met her husband.
“How did you and Harold meet?” When Ethel didn’t say anything at first you thought maybe it was a story she didn’t want to tell. However when you looked at her face the older woman had a small smile and her cheeks had pinked up a bit. “If you don’t want to share that’s ok.”
“Oh, no dear. I don’t mind sharing.” Her smile grew a bit and she held up a blouse before continuing. “I stole his horse.”
“You stole…are you serious?”
“I was a handful when I was younger, driving my father crazy with all the things I’d get up to. But my mother had passed away many years before and he was mostly focused on the general store he ran. I was angry over losing my mother and angry over him ignoring me to work there so I caused a bit of trouble around town.”
You had a feeling that when she said ‘a bit’ she meant a lot.
“Did Harold live there too?”
“No, he was just traveling through one day looking for work. I was minding the store while my father ran an errand and Harold refused to talk to me, saying he would only talk to the owner.” Ethel sniffed and shook her head. You could tell the memory of that still irritated her. “So as soon as my father got back I stormed out of there, jumped on his horse and rode the hell out of town.”
She was quiet for a moment, lost in her thoughts before she continued.
“Well, long story short, the sheriff caught me not long after. He tried to get my father to bail me out of jail but that old bastard refused! Said I should finally face the consequences of my behavior.” Ethel turned and smiled at you, bumping her shoulder against yours. “So Harold bailed me out.”
“Really?”
“He did, he bailed me out and I haven’t been able to get rid of him ever since.” You laughed with her, imagining a young Ethel moving around town with a lovesick Harold on her heels. She quieted down, still smiling at you as she reached over and tucked some of your hair back behind your ear. “Now, how about you tell me how you and Mr. Emeritus met.”
You couldn’t help but freeze for a brief moment. This wasn’t something you and Copia had talked about. You weren’t sure what he would want you to say. Obviously not the truth, you were sure Ethel wouldn’t take kindly to finding out that Copia and the Ghouls had kidnapped you, despite how much the…situation had evolved since then. You would need to get creative, come up with something that would be easy to believe. Your lips began to pull up in a smirk when you thought of how worried Copia was for you to be able to think on your feet.
Time to show him what a city girl could do.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
After spinning what you felt was a grandiose, but still believable tale of how you and Copia met and fell in love you helped Ethel wash some sheets and blankets. She had looked at you like you had two heads when you told her you had never washed anything before. Thankfully her look of disbelief was quickly replaced with the familiar kind look she had been giving you. Once again you felt an ache in your chest, wondering how different your life might have been with someone like Ethel as a mother.
It wasn’t that you didn’t love your own, but it was more just a feeling of indifference. The home you grew up in was cold and empty despite the numerous fireplaces and furniture. You had always felt alone there. The maids and cooks were instructed to converse with your family as little as possible. There had been a few people you had befriended when you were younger, but it always seemed like as soon as you got close to someone they’d be replaced. Your parents were so strict when it came to you, so cruel. You had always known it wasn’t fair or even normal, but the more time you spent away from them, from that environment, the more you realized how wrong it had all been.
The farmhouse just felt so right.
Ethel had given you a basket of things to hang outside while she took some lunch out to everyone else. She had a few rope lines hanging behind the house and walking out to them gave you a chance to see the farm in daylight. It was so beautiful you kept finding yourself stopping to take everything in. The house itself had a large porch in the front with a few benches and seats scattered about. There was even a swing and you were tempted to take a moment to sit down and enjoy the scenery, but you didn’t want to be caught not working.
As you walked around the front of the house you took in the large pasture that stretched out from the porch up a hill in the distance. There was the barn not too far away, with a few other smaller buildings nearby. You thought you heard shouting and laughing so that had to be where they were doing the repairs from the storm. The house and barn definitely looked like some work could be done, but nothing that really stuck out to you as dangerous.
Behind the house was where more fields stretched out. It looked like at some point there might have been crops there, but at the moment everything looked like random plants and weeds had taken over. Large patches of dandelions had cropped up and you took a moment when you set your basket down by the laundry lines to pick one. The bright yellow flowers were always your favorite, despite many thinking of them as weeds. Your father would always make someone go out and pick them from the yard around your home, but you tried to sneak a few into your room whenever you could.
You twirled the dandelion stem between your fingers as you watched the grasses and tree limbs move in the breeze. It seemed silly but you let yourself have a moment imagining what it would be like to live here. Maybe you could start growing crops again, harvesting things to take to a market somewhere. Growing things to use for your own cooking. Your eyes fell closed as you let your mind wander even further…thinking of who you wanted to share this dream with. The question you were afraid to ask yourself was at the edge of your thoughts, ready to ruin your daydream any moment.
Would a man like Copia be happy in a place like this? With you?
You tucked the flower into one of the button holes of your blouse and then threw a blanket over the line, smoothing it out before a growing noise behind you made you pause. Hoofbeats were getting closer and you quickly turned your head, the momentary fear instantly leaving when you saw Copia approaching on Brizio. He had an easy smile on his face, looking more relaxed than you had ever seen him. His black hat was perched on his head like always, but otherwise he was only in pants and his red button up. The shirt was barely done up, probably unbuttoned as the air got warmer. Your eyes couldn’t help but drift to the exposed portion of his chest, lingering there too long and risking him noticing. When you quickly looked up to his face you sighed at the smug grin on his face.
Of course he noticed.
He chuckled when you turned and started clipping the blanket in place. You knew ignoring him wouldn’t actually work but at least you could hide your own smile. Fueling his ego would just make him even more insufferable, not that it bothered you so much anymore. Especially when it made you feel butterflies in your stomach or when it led to him being close to you. Brizio stepped close enough you could feel his snout bump against your shoulder so you spun around again to glare up at his master.
“Copia I’m busy.”
“Looked like you were daydreaming to me.”
When Brizio started snuffling into your hair you pulled away, reaching down to grab another blanket.
“Well what are you doing?” You glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you be helping Harold?”
“I was, but his beautiful wife brought us lunch so I decided to come see my beautiful wife.”
To hide your red cheeks you ducked around to the other side of the blanket as you clipped it to the line. You saw his and Brizio’s shadow grow as they moved closer to the blanket, the sun bright on their back. The blanket moved when Brizio pressed his muzzle into it and you pulled it away from him.
“Copia! These are clean sheets keep him away.”
“Ai, Brizio is clean.”
You rolled your eyes when he gave the horse a pat on his neck.
“Yes I’m sure he’s just as clean as his master.”
“Principessa, I can’t believe you. Here I am wanting to spend time with my wife and she chooses to mock me.”
When you walked back around the sheet he moved to block your way, smirking when you huffed and crossed your arms.
“Copia I have work to do.”
“It can wait, come on a ride with me.”
“A ride? Where?”
He shrugged and looked around, much like you had done earlier.
“Eh Harold has been talking about the farm all morning. I just want to take a little tour.” He turned and smiled down at you. “Come with me.”
You hesitated a moment, biting your lip as you peered up at him. Going on a tour was something you wanted to do, but after this morning you were a little nervous being so close to Copia again. You wondered if he would kiss you again, you hoped he would kiss you again. But you weren’t sure if you’d be able to make the first move. Even for something you desperately wanted.
“Will we be gone long?”
“Not long at all and I promise the laundry will still be sitting here safely when we return.” You took a few steps closer and reached out to rub Brizio’s neck, looking up at him when he clicked his tongue. “What if I promise to keep my hands to myself?”
You gave him a smirk of your own as you studied his face.
“What if I don’t want you to?”
Copia gaped at you a moment, but before he could speak you both turned toward the house when you heard Ethel’s voice.
“Mr. Emeritus!”
“Quickly now, Principessa.” He laid the reins on Brizio’s neck and held his hands out for yours. “Come on, before she catches us.”
Ethel shouted for him again so you quickly made up your mind and placed your hands in his. A little squeak escaped you when he started lifting you up. You placed your right foot on top of his and pushed off the ground, laughing when he spun you around so you were sitting in front of him. He kept an arm around your waist as you settled against him and adjusted your skirt. It was a large billowy thing Ethel had given you this morning, perfect for horse riding.
Copia grabbed the reins with his other hand and turned Brizio away from the laundry line to face the house. You snorted when he waved at Ethel, the woman clearly not amused at Copia’s antics. Her hands were on her hips as she stared him down.
“Don’t worry signora!” He pressed his heels into Brizio’s sides and said something in Italian to the horse. Brizio immediately took off in a trot away from the house. Copia turned in the saddle to face Ethel again before you got too far away. “I promise to bring her back!”
He wrapped his arm more firmly around you and dropped his head into the crook of your neck. You shivered when you felt his stubble tickle the sensitive skin there. His warm lips pressing kiss after kiss onto your skin. After a few moments he brought his lips to your ear, his mustache scratching along the edge. You took in a quick breath when he nibbled on your earlobe. At the same time his hand started to wander along your waist, moving up higher and higher until it was resting right below your breasts.
“Copia!”
He shushed you, leaning down to press a few more kisses on your neck before he straightened up again to whisper into your ear.
“Are you ready for a ride?”
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
It was dark before you made it back to the farmhouse. Copia stopped at the barn first, leaving Brizio in Aether’s care before he took your hand and led you back to the house. You were both quiet as you walked. Copia kept looking out over the fields and you found yourself stealing glances at him.
The tour had turned into more of what had occurred between you both that morning. His hand on your chest had continued to wander, his lips on your neck making you shiver. It wasn’t long before you were squirming against him, quiet whimpers leaving you. Eventually he stopped Brizio under the cover of some trees and turned you so you were sitting sideways across his lap.
“Principessa?”
You were startled out of your thoughts by his voice and you looked over at him. He had paused at the bottom of the porch steps, pulling you against him as soon as your eyes met. Your eyes fluttered shut when he pressed a gentle kiss into your forehead. When he pulled away he tucked your hair back behind your ears and gave you a small smile.
“What?”
Copia shook his head at your question and just continued to smile at you. He glanced down at your chest and gently pulled the dandelion you had tucked into it away. You were surprised it had survived his wandering hands while you had been on the ride. He twirled the stem between his fingers much like you had done before lifting it up and slipping the stem behind your ear.
“Let’s get inside before Ethel comes looking for us.”
Thankfully Ethel didn’t seem too upset by your absence for most of the afternoon. She came over and squeezed your shoulders before shooting a quick glare at Copia. You expected him to make some sort of smart comment but instead he broke out into a wide yawn. Amongst the lamps and candles lit inside the house you noticed how tired he looked. There were bags under his eyes that were normally hidden by his dark makeup. Ethel took a few steps towards him and gave him a quick pat on his shoulder.
“How about you go clean up and your wife can help me set dinner out.”
All she got was a quiet nod before he took his boots off and wandered down the hall. You followed Ethel into the kitchen and helped her put the finishing touches on dinner, stealing bites as you worked. Harold packed a few baskets and left to take the food out to the Ghouls while Ethel sent you down the hall to collect Copia. As you approached the door you didn’t hear any noises so you quietly opened it to peek inside. The only light illuminating the room was from the moon shining in from the window, but you could just make out Copia’s form on the bed.
“Copia?”
You took a few steps into the room, about to call out his name again before you noticed how still he was on top of the covers. There was a pile of clothes on the floor by the foot of the bed and you carefully stepped over them as you crept closer. He had changed into a clean shirt and pants at least before laying down. You studied his face and could see that the dirt and grime of the day had been removed. A few wet strands of hair had fallen across his forehead as well.
The urge to brush the hair away was strong, but you didn’t want to risk waking him. Copia looked so peaceful, it almost felt like a spell had been cast upon the room. You found yourself holding your breath and you had to be careful letting it out slowly to not make too much noise. The floorboards creaked when you took a few hesitant steps back and you winced. After waiting for a few moments and not seeing him stir you turned and carefully crept back out of the room.
Ethel wasn’t upset about dinner changing, she just gave you that familiar soft smile and told you to take care of him. You and Copia could join her and Harold for breakfast in the morning instead. When you got back to the room Copia had turned on his side to face the wall. You quickly removed your clothes from the day and grabbed the nightgown, pulling it over your head and immediately glancing back over to the bed to see if he had been watching. The brief pang of disappointment you felt when he continued to sleep made you nearly roll your eyes.
The cowboy was getting to you.
There wasn’t an easy or quiet way to get into the bed and under the covers, but you crawled up from the foot of the bed as carefully as you could. The only light in the room was from the moon shining through the window, just enough to illuminate the side of his face not smooshed into the pillow. He looked so peaceful, his breath quiet and his body still. More hair was hanging down and you couldn't help but hesitantly reach out to brush it back just like he did to your own hair.
“Go to sleep, Principessa.”
You jumped at the sound of his voice, jerking your arm back and shoving it under the covers. He peeked his green eye open and it sparkled when the moonlight hit it. When you saw his mouth slowly pull up in a smirk you huffed and turned so that you faced the wall. The bastard had probably been awake the whole time. A few moments passed in silence so you settled further into the bedding. It wasn’t until you felt his arm slip around and pull you closer to him that you let your eyes close to drift off to sleep.
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Secondo hadn’t felt this tired in a long time.
Not since the first few years after the attack, when he still expected Saltarian to show up with more men. To see another home burned to nothing, to see more people he loved killed. It wasn’t even just the fear of Saltarian though. It was also the constant fear of if they would make it or not. If they’d be able to keep everyone safe and fed. He and his brothers had worked tirelessly to rebuild things. A new home and a new way of life for the members of the Church of Emeritus.
After those first few years things had seemingly relaxed. There had been no word or sign from Saltarian or any of his associates. The Ministry, his casino and his home, had steadily grown since then. It wasn’t just his home now, so many of the Ghouls and Ghoulettes called it home as well. Most of them worked there or around the town in some capacity, Impera was what they ended up calling it in the end. Secondo and his brothers had settled somewhat comfortably in their own roles there, with Primo eventually moving a few days ride away for some peace and quiet. Everyone seemed, if not happy, at least content with their new life.
Everyone except for Copia.
A knock on his door interrupted his brooding, but it opened before he could tell the person to go away. Terzo waltzed in, looking rumpled and like he’d spent the last hour at the bar. Not the best look for the town’s sheriff, but everyone was so used to it that if he didn’t look this way that’s when people would be concerned. Either way Secondo didn’t have the patience to deal with him at the moment.
“What do you want, Terzo?”
“Ah, I see you’re in an excellent mood like usual.” Terzo flopped down into one of the chairs across his desk with a heavy sigh. “What happened? Did you have to shoot someone today?”
“Not yet.” He glared at Terzo when he brought his legs up and set his feet on the edge of his desk. “Don’t you have someone’s bed you could be warming?”
“Always.”
“Then what the fuck do you want?” His brother’s face sobered a bit and Secondo felt a quick pang of regret for snapping at him. Terzo was getting dragged into this nonsense of Copia’s as well. He was at risk of losing his family and home too. Secondo took a calming breath before continuing. “Has there been any word from Cirrus?”
“That’s what I came to ask you.”
Secondo shook his head and turned to look out the balcony windows behind him. Cirrus would hopefully be back tonight or tomorrow morning. It was a long trip for what would hopefully just be a quick conversation with Copia. His brother might be pissed at Secondo for interfering, but he would at least listen to Cirrus. The extra time would make sure his letter had gotten to Saltarian. A letter Secondo had written in a hurry before sending Alpha and Earth off with it. Hopefully it would be enough to keep the man at bay.
“Fratello?” Secondo turned back to Terzo and his face softened a bit at the look on his younger brother’s face. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Terzo to continue. “What do you think Saltarian will do?”
Before he could answer the door to his office burst open, Mist quickly striding in. The look on her face was one Secondo hadn’t seen for nearly 10 years.
“What is it?” He got up and moved around his desk, reaching out to place a comforting hand on the Ghoulette's shoulder. “Is Cirrus back?”
Mist shook her head and took a steadying breath before she shared her news.
“Saltarian is here.”
~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~
Chapter 8: Playing House
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#my fics#my writing#the cardinal's bride#cowboy copia#the band ghost fanfiction#cardinal copia x female reader#copia x female reader#cardinal copia fanfiction#copia fanfiction#western au#secondo fanfiction#papa emeritus ii fanfiction
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hnngh chrollos lap
Oh my God you read my mind. I’ve thinking about this for daysss now.
CW: afab reader, (very light) yandere themes, thigh riding, mentions of bondage but nothing overly explicit, generally NSFW so 18+
It would start off so innocent. He’d either turn on a movie or flip to his favorite excerpt from whatever he’s currently reading while he has you sitting on him. His fingers would be absentmindedly playing with you hair, the hem of your shirt, and wherever else they can reach; if it’s in his immediate vicinity it’s fair game.
The first few times he does this his touches would never be too invasive. But as you get more accustomed to it he’d up the ante.
One night as you’re getting ready for bed your favorite pjs magically disappear. The only thing left in your drawer is some thigh highs, panties, and one of his shirts. Asshole. Knowing you couldn’t truly relax in your day wear you begrudgingly get changed; it beats being naked (not that he’d mind).
Your annoyance is clear as you purposely sit on the far end of couch away from him. Despite the evident disapproval he just smirks while pulling you onto his lap. Anytime you’d try getting up the book in his hand was replaced with Skill Hunter and he’d casually read off pages to you. Usually ones related to conjuring ropes, ones that manipulate your muscles into moving however he’d like, you get the picture: poorly disguised threats. The odds of him actually carrying though on this are slim to none though. He’d much rather play mind games and break you on his own volition.
The longer you’re sitting on him the bolder he gets. His hands will dance along you waist, occasionally slipping down to the waistband of your panties and snapping them against your skin. They’ll creep to the edge of your stockings and firmly massage your thighs. When he feels satisfied at the way your breath begins to hitch and you not so discreetly adjust yourself on top of him he’ll turn you around and maneuver you so you’re now straddling his thigh. He’ll grip your hips and help you grind yourself against his leg, smirking when he purposely tenses his muscles to watch how your body jolts.
When he feels confident you won’t stop, his hands leave your hips, opting for you cheat instead. He’ll gently massage it and pinch your nipples whenever you move too slow for his liking.
When you finally get yourself off he’ll throw some taunting remarks your way. Generally things along the lines of “if I knew you liked it so much I would’ve used the ropes. Maybe next time,” “look at the mess you’ve made, now I’m going to have to change,” etc.
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Nextdoor i.
part two , part three
John Wick moved in last year but you’re just home for the summer. He hires you to dog sit for him while he’s on business trips but it doesn’t take long til you’re pushing the limits of your “professional” relationship.
Words: 4.6k
Tags/warnings: nsfw, age gap, John is 28 and fem protag is 22, weed, masturbation, nothing too intense in this one, more plot building and some yearning
My mom introduced me to him in his drive way. Waved him down and asked him to wait. She hurries into the front door and yells my name up the stairs.
I’m in bed, cozy under a soft blanket and just a little high from the gummies in the side drawer. Her call echoes into my silent room and I huff, shoving my phone into the soft covers and scrambling up to grab some sweatpants. I decide my tank top is acceptable for whatever she needs help with and I rush down, knowing she’ll just yell again if I take too much time.
I slow my footing as I hit the door, seeing him standing there in a dark suit. He was tall beside my mother, clutching a black bag and giving me a small wave. I walk out to where my mom has already returned, waving back to him shyly and brushing the hair back from over my shoulders.
He was handsome, dark hair parted in the middle and falling past his ears, a scruffy but neat short beard. I stop with some distance between us, even more nervous now as he looks down at me.
“This is my only daughter,” she nods to me and I step up, meeting his outstretched hand.
I try to clear my throat as discreet as possible. “My name’s Jamie,” I try not to stammer, gripping his larger hand in a solid shake then returning my arms to my sides awkwardly. His hands were soft, firm, and rough against my clammy ones. Drowning in fear like I’m attending my first job interview.
“Actually, she’s only here for the summer, but she loves dogs,” she tells him like I know what they’re talking about.
He looks to me as she speaks, eyes flickering down at what I’m wearing. It was quick, I only caught it because I was staring him down. His tie loose and hanging from work, too button undone and hair just a little messy. He didn’t look too old, maybe not even thirty. Definitely 26 or older. Out of my dating range, most likely, but a girl can fantasize.
“I have to leave on business often, but I have a dog named Daisy and my previous sitter moved back home for the summer.” He tells me, opening his stance as he speaks.
“Ahh,” I drag the edge of my Birkenstock against the hot concrete, looking at his slick black business shoes, “I see… you paying?”
He chuckles, looking to my mom, “of course. Generously. I’m John, by the way.”
“Then I humbly accept.”
“Why don’t you text so I have you saved, and when I need a sitter I’ll hit you up.” He opens his jacket, flicking out his business card between two fingers and giving it over to me. I glance at it then nod, tucking that hand behind my back and swinging backwards onto my heels.
“Cool, I’m free like anytime so…” I shrug.
My mom swoops in to save me, “well, isn’t that just perfect? I hate to take up too much of your time Mr. Wick, you have a great evening now.”
He smiles to my mom, so genuinely he could be one of her own.
“You’re never a bother, Dixie,” he responds politely, she shoos him as she begins stepping away.
“You love to flatter me,” she chuckles, calling behind her. I follow my mom in, stealing glances of John walking up to his front door, tucking his jacket back to retrieve his keys from his front pocket.
“Handsome, isn’t he?” My mom teases me once the door closes. I replay our interaction in my head a thousand times over, did I seem too weird? Too young? “Hellooooo,” my mom coos, walking to the kitchen. I’m following her blindly, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.
“Yeah, uh, he was nice.”
“He’s been renting out of there since the start of the year, a widower, I hear.”
“How’d she die?” I ask too quick, my mom pulls out the baking sheet.
“I don’t think it’s anything interesting, she was sick or something.”
She loves to gossip, my questions are expected by her. Why wouldn’t I want to know the details of everyone else’s lives?
“Recently?”
“Two or three years ago… maybe? Such a shame, I don’t think he’s too old.”
I swallow and excuse myself up to my room.
Two the three years, that’s more than enough of a grieving period, I think. He seems gentlemanly, maybe the type to never marry again.
Entering my room, I realize I’m still holding his card. I flop onto the bed and grab my phone, holding the card out from my face in wonder. Its basic, white background, sleek black lettering.
John Wick
His number was on the back with his official title. It doesn’t mean anything to me, but it sounds important. I open my messages app, copying the numbers in carefully.
I compose several starter messages.
Heyyyy
A far too devious amount of ys, I delete them and try to stay casual.
Hey it’s Jamie the neighbor, lmk if u ever need a sitter
Good enough. I send it before I can overthink, immediately exiting the app.
I thought he might reply to acknowledge me, but my phone was dead all week. I purposefully avoided him outside. It was easy enough, he was hardly in the front yard. A strict schedule. He’d leave early in the morning, sometimes even earlier. Probably for breakfast, or coffee, more likely. He seems like a man who would drink a black coffee in the morning and skip lunch.
He comes home at the same time every evening. 6:04pm sharp. I watch him sometimes, I can almost sense it now. Peering out my window at 6:03 to his black Ford Mustang, he climbs out with more work to bring home each evening.
It’s extremely boring here. My old friend’s parents have moved away so no one else is home for the summer. My old plug is though. He never moved. He’s in the same nice house he’s been renting since I was in high school.
I tell my mom I’m running to Target.
For what?
I’m stir crazy. Maybe some socks.
She leaves it and I’m picking up an ounce. I do stop by target first, for the lie and for fun. I some socks with spiders swimming with pool floaties.
My mom loves them when I show her. I wait until they’re in bed to slide outside and grab the weed from my car. I bring it up inside as slow and careful as possible. It takes me minutes to open and close each door, cringing at every squeak. I set about a gram aside and grab my small bag of paraphernalia. Slipping onto the back porch I relax in my mother’s backyard area. She has flower and a tree out there, an outdoor table and some chairs. I unpack my grinder and rolling papers and get to work on rolling myself a nice little joint.
I pack everything up before I’m sparking my lighter, lounging back in the chair and looking up at the sky through the tree.
I take a few long puffs, holding it into my chest before exhaling the cloud of smoke into the branches. A few more drags in and I hear it. A patio door sliding open and the soft clicks of excited dog paws scampering across the backyard pavement. I lower my hand to the side of my chair like they could see me through the fence, holding my breath too. My joint continues to burn slow, seeping up in a small stream of thc.
It’s John’s yard, I’m praying he just lets the pup out but his footsteps aren’t hard to identify in the silence of our yards. I curse under my breath, heart beating quick.
Weed is legal in New Jersey, but the thought of John knowing it’s me is what’s so shaking. He won’t let me watch his house now for sure, he probably thinks I’m some young irresponsible trouble maker. I’m in college, I’ve never gotten in trouble, I just like to smoke weed.
Putting it out won’t stop the smell, I decide, hesitantly hitting it again. I hold the smoke in for as long as possible before blowing it in the opposite direction of John’s. I am at mercy of the wind, so I can’t force the scent in any which direction.
My phone lights up on the table and I freeze, seeing the contact I had labeled as Mr Wick light up in my notifications. I have to be in trouble with him. I breathe out the smoke I’d been holding for awhile now, grabbing up my phone to where I could read the text.
I’m leaving tomorrow, 11am. If you meet me before I can show you where all her stuff is.
Relief. I wait a minute, so it doesn’t seem like I was too available. I don’t know why I’m playing these games when he’s on the other side of the fence. I can hear him following his dog around, his footsteps heavy on the grass.
Yeah I’ll be there like 10:30?
I reply carefully, I keep going over it, not sure if I sound normal or not. I send it anyways and he replies almost immediately.
Great, thank you.
I’m still nervous, like he’s going to come over and reprimand me. The soft click of his sliding door assures me that I’m in the clear and I can finish off my joint in peace. I save the roach and sneak back into my room, stashing it in my sealed metal water bottle before I’m crashing into my bed again.
My mattress is soft, it’s so familiar and comfortable. I press one of my pillows in my chest, laying still and thinking about how stoned I am. My limbs are heavy and sensitive, just like my eyes as I slide them close.
Falling asleep immediately always felt like a waste of a high.
My emerald green throw tickles my skin as I slide into the covers. I settle in restlessly, the covers cradling my body delicately as I begin running my hands under my shirt. My core is warm but my hands are chilled from the wind. Body already trembling, I flinch away from it. I hate the feeling, but I find myself continuing to run my hand over my ribs as they heat up, the curve of my hip bone and just under the dip of my waistband. It feels good, my skin is just as soft as my finger tips, I press over my panties, just for a moment and squeeze my thighs together. A hum of pleasure verberetes through me and I think - it would feel better if John was doing this. Those strong looking hands, tall figure arched over me. His middle finger would feel endlessly better stretched up into me than two of mine ever did. My leg muscle tenses thinking about, pressing my heel into the bed. And that deep voice he uses when he speaks, would he be silent during sex, better yet, talk to me, low, sultry. In his fucking business suit, telling me how good I’m being.
I’m still not really touching myself, unmoving, it feels so dirty but I can’t stop my mind.
Finally, I yank my hand up, tucking myself into bed and pulling up a YouTube video.
I show up at 10:30 sharp, wearing a hoodie and some workout shorts. I didn't want to dress too nice since I have nothing else going on all day, but wearing a tank top again felt desperate.
John seemed like he had been idly waiting, I wonder if I should’ve been ten minutes early. I see him through the glass of the door as he strides over to allow me in.
His eyes skim over me as I pass by him, just for a moment. It's hot outside, he wants to ask me the question I always get.
Aren’t you hot in that?
The clothes are oversized; I push the sleeves up slightly, or they'd be hanging past my wrists. They're probably his size. John shoved his eyes away from me, towards a side hallway to the garage.
"The dog food is out here,” he begins leading me out. “He gets one scoop, and then just a can of wet food mixed in.” He shows me the dog food container and the cabinet where the wet one is. Guiding me through the kitchen, explaining that he doesn't care if I eat anything in the house, but he doesn't keep many snacks.
His house is the same size as mine, but the minimalist decor makes it feel bigger. There’s hardly any decoration, a few pictures. The furniture is black and new looking, his tv is large and takes up the entire side of the wall across from the couch.
In a pause, he turns to me and asks, "How old are you?"
My expression changes before I can catch it, startled. "22." I answer quickly. It’s such a normal question but for some reason the tips of my ears are burning.
John bites back a smile. “I only ask because," he gestures to a small area with a bar set up, whiskeys and assorted spirits lined the shelves, "you can help yourself. You're only next door, anyways, so I don't have to worry about you drunk driving home…" he almost begins to ramble, "so." He cuts himself off, pressing a hand to the table.
"I have cameras in the living room," he uses his other hand to point to one. Right beside a propped-up picture frame was a black home camera. "I just have it to check on Daisy when I'm working. It doesn't record, but if I check it, it lights up. It's the only one besides the doorbell."
I take mental note, and he gives me a key to the backdoor. "Last thing. I know you are staying with your parents, so if they start to annoy you, feel free to spend the night here. I have a spare bedroom upstairs.”
I thank him and leave out the front door with him. Waving him off after giving me the rest of daisy’s schedule.
It’s easy, daisy is a sweetheart and John texts me where’s his extra towels are. He hot tub hooked up to his back porch, it’s nice and clean but he said he hardly uses it.
Lucky me.
Day two of watching the dog and I’m spending the night. Creeping around the house like he’d click on the camera any minute. My large shirt covers my bikini as I go through my tote bag on the island. I try to touch the least amount of things as possible. It’s not hard, there’s not much to mess with. The camera isn’t pointed towards the kitchen, it angles to half the living room, the side of the couch, getting a nice potion of the backdoor where daisy likes to splay.
I already made sure the hot tub was out of view. He said I could use it but the thought of him catching me is embarrassing.
It’s the evening already, the sun setting back and the heat receding. Daisy sits at my feet as I make sure I grabbed everything I need from my house. Once I feel content, I take my bag and spare towel and head to the back, Daisy following on my heel.
She lays down in her spot as I peel off my tshirt, reaching into my bag for my joint and lighter. There’s an ashtray back here, I take mental note. Nothing of his smelled of cigarettes. A few steps in, I prop my phone up against the side of the hot tub and the wall, playing a new YouTube video while I continue to sink into the warm water.
I spark up and relax, listening in to my 3 hour long video essay mindlessly.
I wonder what John’s room looks like, is it just as empty as the rest of the house? It’s a rental but you’d think he’d want some semblance of of himself. Would just sheets smell like him? What did John Wick smell like? I haven’t been close enough to notice. His living room smells… new. Clean, like some just vacuumed.
When the hot tub gets boring and I’m sufficiently stoned I put on some music instead and climb out. I hate being wet, grabbing up the white fluffy towel and wrapping it around my torso.
I spend a nice amount of time rubbing on Daisy. She’s such a good girl, waiting patiently for me the whole time. It also gives me time to dry, so I’m not sopping wet when I do go back in. I go ahead and shower in the spare, keeping my hair dry. I change into comfy clothes, a new tshirt and some sweatpants, and I exit the bathroom.
I walk the halls slower, taking in the few frames that are there. Daisy, mostly. I look for his ex wife, but there’s none hanging up. I can guess where the master bedroom is from the layout of my house, arriving at his door with caution. It’s shut closed, menacing. Carefully, I reach out and turn the black metal off the handle. It gives way easy, slowly swinging open even after I release it.
His bed is large, a black fluffy looking confronter tucked into the low bed frame. Multiple black pillows sat up at the top. Still no decor, I slip in, my heart rattling in my chest. His closet door is mostly open, sunlight strewn into the bedroom illuminated the business suits hanging up.
Without further consideration, I fall onto the firm mattress. It gives way under me, soft, cradling my body as I stretch out. I moan in relaxation, digging my face into the material. It smells like man. A subtle cologne, salt, cedar maybe like shampoo. It’s so comfy that I close my eyes and choose to stay. John probably does this exact thing after work. Or maybe he’s occupied in his study hours before he’s wrapped up in bed.
I inhale deeply and push myself up, lingering around near his master suite bathroom. He has no bathtub like my parents, but he has a large rain shower. I don’t dare step in, it feels so off limits, leaning into the frame. It’s white and plane, it almost felt like a hotel bathroom. A luxury hotel.
When I’ve had enough, I retreat back to the spare room. The sheets smell like cotton fresh detergent and the blankets are soft beneath my body.
I urge to touch myself again, I wish I could in his bed. No. No. My thoughts are sinful, the guilt turns me off and I’m back to YouTube videos and heavy marijuana sleep:
I only spend the night the night twice. The second time on Thursday. He wouldn’t be back til Sunday so I was in the clear, it gave me time to wash my sheets. I follow the same slow routine, relaxing in the back with a joint, stringing out on his bed comfortably.
I had put all my stuff up, packed so I don’t have to worry about it in the morning and I can focus on cleaning. I pull John’s pillow into my chest, it smells even more of sea salt. It’s a more specific scent, so him, pheromones maybe that make hum quietly to myself.
Being high just boosts my bubbling hypersexuality I seem to suppress.
I could picture him fucking me into this bed. I would scream into this pillow, inhaling him every time I gasp for another breathe. I bet his cock is as pretty and well kept as he is. Cut, for sure, and long maybe. I’d let him use me to relive his stress after work, or maybe he’d be too tired and he’d fuck me sloppy and needy for release.
I don’t move from the bed. So comfy in my little ball and stuck in a cycle of distracting thoughts.
I started awake when I hear Daisy bark, disoriented as I peered around John’s room. Fuck, I had not meant to fall asleep here. I scramble up, rushing to the stairs to see John, pushing through the front door. I didn’t want him seeing me come from his room. I shut the door quickly, turning the handle before it closed so it would make less sound. I hurry to the guest room and toss some pillows around and pick them back up just as John as making his way up the stairs.
“Oh, sorry, wasn’t sure if you’d be here.” John speaks from the hallways, he can see you through the open door as you put the last pillow back in place.
“Mr. Wick, I’m sorry, I’ll clean up right now.”
“No, it’s okay. They sent me home early but I forgot to warn you. I’ll take care of it.” He approaches the guest room, leaving his suitcase at his closed door.
“Hey, uh,” he raises his shoulders intensely, biting his lower lip. His pause grows my anxiety. The threat of being caught looms, and he hadn’t even opened his door yet. “Next time you,” he coughs, “smoke. Could I buy some off of you or something?”
Oh. My mouth curves up into a smile. Mr. Wick wants to buy some weed off of me?
“Yeah, how much would you want?” I ask, sitting up straighter. It’s odd, suddenly having this hold over a grown man. I could scam him so easily.
“Like… a gram, maybe. Not a lot.”
“You know,” I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth, wondering if I’m crossing some unspoken line. He crossed it first, I think, asking your worker for drugs is not very professional, “you could just smoke with me next time? If you want.”
His eyes dance over me for a moment, trying to find the line I’m stepping on.
“Sure, if that’s okay?”
“I offered.” I reassure him. He nods, moving past the subject and stepping back.
“I’ll let you finish up whatever, let me know when you’re heading out,” he turns out and finally heads in his bedroom. My sudden high drops into my stomach, fuck, I left his pillows fucked up.
I ignore it, pretend everything was perfect as I finished stripping the guest bed and throwing him in the wash. He tells me he’ll finish the rest, eyes lingering on me downstairs in the kitchen. I try to return the key but he tells me I should just keep it for now, he’ll probably have to leave again soon. He’s quieter now, watching as I gather up all my things and wave myself off.
That night I text him, balancing the joint on my knee as I typed out a short offer for him to join me. I wasn’t sure if he’d be asleep by now, 11pm, he must be tired from his early flight. I had taken a midday nap to fill my time.
Despite my speculations, John replies telling me I can come over. I sneak out the back yard and walk to John’s front door. He’s waiting to greet me, black sweatpants, a white undershirt. His hair is wet from the shower and he’s wearing some funky socks. He pushes the door open enough for me to walk in and I accept, gliding past him. I’m also in my sweatpants and a big tshirt, as always. We’re almost matching.
“I rolled us a joint,” I tell him proudly as he pushes the rolling door to the outside. I don’t waste much time, easing myself into the chairs out by the hot tub and pulling the joint from my sleeve. My lighters in my pocket, I toss it onto the glass and it makes a soft clicking sound as it hits.
He follows me out slower, giving a minute to pet Daisy before he settles beside me. He picks up the joint, pulling it closer to his face to examine it. He inhales that gas and hands it back to me, “excellent roll,” he commends with a chuckle.
“Thank you, sir,” I put it between my lips, cupping away from the wind trying to light it evenly. I’m mostly successful, but it’s going to canoe at some point. I huff it a few times and lean back in the chair, pulling my legs up criss cross. John takes it from me, he’s leaning back too in the metal chair, legs pushed out.
He takes a breathe of it in, exhaling with a small cough. He suppresses more, clearing his throat before hitting it again and passing it back.
“Do you mind if I play music?” I ask and nods. I set my phone up and shuffle one of my Spotify playlists.
“Was Daisy good for you?” He asks, Daisy lays out by his feet.
“She’s perfect, I think you already knew that.” John laughs a little harder than I think he would if he wasn’t high, reaching down to scratch Daisy.
“I haven’t smoked weed since college,” he admits after a beat of silence.
“How long ago was that?”
More silence as he thinks, “about 5 years, maybe.”
Not as far away as I thought, I take another hit, it hasn’t started canoeing, go me. He’s 26 at the very youngest, but he seems pretty high up in his corporate job and there’s the chance he started college late, so maybe 31?
“I’m 28,” He said I like he could hear me thinking, “almost 29.”
“Old man.”
“I knew you’d say that,” I pass it back to him.
I talk about movies. John only plays them on flights but he hardly pays attention. TV shows? He hasn’t watched tv in three years.
Since his wife died. I fill that part in on my own.
I want to ask about her but I know it’s a touchy subject. He doesn’t even keep photos of her up.
“What do you usually do now?” He asks when it’s too hot to hit, a little roach. I set it on the glass.
“I usually stash them for a roach bowl when I’m out of weed,” I admit. Probably kinda gross now that I think about it. “Then I climb up in bed and,” touch myself, and think of you, “watch YouTube til I pass out.”
“I napped earlier so I’m not tired yet.”
“Same.”
“I don’t usually nap.”
“I do.” He chuckles and shakes his head.
“I wish.”
“Do you want to watch a movie then?”
I show him Kill Bill. He settles on the unused couch first, carefully pressed to the side to give me more than enough room. I settled on the couch with my legs folded into me. I leave a few inches between us, stealing glances at the way he’s strewn out beside me. He’s a large man, at least six foot but lean and strong looking. He has to work out, I can see his arm muscles flex as they’re crossed over his chest. He’s actually enjoying the movie, I was hoping he would. He got up to grab popcorn and I eased into our shared space carefully.
It’s easier when he comes back with it, I don’t give him the room to place it between us so he sets it on his leg near me. I let my eyes crawl over him every time I reach over to grab some. I could slide over into his lap right now, slide my hands under that tight white shirt. Help him relax.
I’m too high to dare, my hands are shaky just thinking about it. John notices when I go to grab more but he doesn’t say anything.
I do allow myself to shift closer, trying to do it unnoticed. I pressed my thigh against his. He doesn’t move but I catch his eyes darting to my leg, moments later.
I beg him with my eyes, to touch me, pull me closer. He doesn’t dare.
We get through the whole movie without me poucing on him, I yawn. Still high but not as much as earlier. He thanks me and I leave for the night. Going home I felt empty, he’d let me almost touch him. I climbed up in bed and I’m immediately rutting up against my hand. I wonder if he’d touch himself thinking of me, not that I’ve given him much material in my comfy clothes.
Maybe if I could get him into that hot tub. I imagine him, shirtless in his swimsuit. Damp and pressed to his thighs, pushed down to his hip to expose his cock, just above the warm water. I press two fingers into myself, flattening out on the bed and moaning under my breath. I want to grind against his thigh, come on his fingers. I come quick, and hard, laying shaky and exhausted in my small bed and going to sleep.
#john wick#john wick smut#john wick fanfic#john wick: chapter 4#john wick x y/n#john wick gif#fanfic#fanfiction#john wick x you#john wick x reader#alternative#one shot#smut#yearning
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Eddie Munson x Reader (Smut)
| Eddie & Steddie Masterlist | AO3 Link |
Summary: Getting older is unavoidable, and neither are some of the unpleasant things that come along with it. But being married to Eddie Munson means mid life doesn't have to be a crisis.
Rating: Explicit 18+
Author Note: Afab reader, they/them pronouns used (if any). Older!Eddie x Older!Reader (late 30's to late 40's, but unspecified in story). Established Relationship. Fluff and smut, with a dash of Hurt/Comfort. No gendered language used when discussing Reader's menopause symptoms.
CW: Menopause symptoms (brief mentions physical and emotional changes, difficulties staying wet, hot flashes, nausea); older amab having difficulties with erections; feelings of being unprepared for midlife changes; brief tangent about differences in men's and women's healthcare; Smut (p in v, dirty talk, praise, begging kink).
Word Count: 4,548
Eddie Munson Taglist: @eddie-swhore
“Damnit.”
Eddie’s voice was soft, talking more to himself than to you as he knelt behind you. He had one hand resting on your upturned ass, the other wrapped around the base of his cock to line it up with your entrance.
You felt him readjust himself to angle his hips a little differently. You shifted around some on your knees and elbows, getting into a better position yourself.
He then proceeded to try again.
You felt the head of his cock start to glide up and down along your slit. Eddie took extra care to circle the tip around your clit slowly, sending small bursts of electricity up through your center. The feeling not as intense as it could be, but still pleasurable enough to be enjoyable, and caused a small moan to leave you.
After several of these long, slow passes through your folds, you felt the tip pause right at your center. Eddie began to press the head of his cock directly against your entrance, pushing with a little extra force in order to finally push himself inside you.
You felt the pressure, bit your lip in anticipation of the feeling of him stretching you out…
Then nothing.
Eddie let go of his cock then. It drooped down from the position he had been holding it and the shaft rubbed against your inner thigh.
“I’m sorry, Princess,” Eddie said, leaning over to kiss you on the shoulder blade. “It looks like we’re gonna need some help tonight.”
That explained the damnit. He knew how much you’d rather not have to use lube. It didn’t feel quite the same to you, no matter how much a brand claimed theirs would.
You turned your head to watch him over your shoulder as he shuffled over a bit so he could lean over and reach over to the nightstand.
“Is it me being difficult, or you?” you asked, genuinely curious because sometimes you couldn’t tell the difference just by feel alone.
“You this time,” he said, pulling open the bottom drawer of the nightstand.
“Figures,” you said, chuckling as you watched Eddie pull the bottle of lube from the drawer.
He didn’t say anything, just chuckled and gave a good natured “mmhmm” in return. After squirting a generous amount of the lube into his palm, he wrapped his hand around his hard length and began to stroke it.
This was something that only recently started happening to you within the last year or so. It wasn’t anything abnormal, or even worrisome, or a sign of some larger problem. It was a natural part of getting older that was just a normal part of your life now.
And it was also something else you got to add to the ever-growing list of Shit No One Ever Warned You About.
While adding something to that list always came with a certain amount of annoyance, this one actually made you angry.
Turn your television to any station and you’ll soon be assaulted by ad after ad spreading awareness about erectile dysfunction and/or low testosterone. But have you ever heard anything about how your cooch may start going dry in the middle of sex, no matter how much you may want your husband to rail the fuck out of you?
Nope. Not one peep. Not even from other people you knew who had been assigned female at birth and had gone through this stuff already. Sure, they would talk about it once you mentioned it finally having experienced a new symptom yourself, but there was no preparation beforehand. No forewarning, no “hey, look out for this,” no nothing.
At times, it really felt like nobody cared what happened later in life for those of you were born with ovaries and a uterus, even from others with them. Once you all were out of your childbearing years, it seemed like society expected you to quietly disappear until needed as grandmothers or crazy spinster aunts. So long as the men in Indiana could get help being “the red-blooded Alpha American males they were meant to be” again, no one gave a shit what the other people might be going through.
Oh, how you hated that particular radio ad.
The silver lining in all this was that you had Eddie. He was such a loving and supportive partner through all of the messy changes you had been going through. Even on the days when your emotions were a bit rough around the edges, he figured out how to smooth them down for you. For that alone you felt like he deserved Time’s Man of the Year award.
Not only was he just an amazing, sympathetic, partner, but he was also an empathetic one. He knew what you were going through in his own way.
Despite the close similarities in your ages, Eddie actually began to experience his own changes a couple years before yours started. Part of that included some difficulty getting hard and/or staying hard. It didn’t always happen but became more common as time went on. There was no way to predict it beforehand, though you did notice it seemed to happen more when you had to stop for any reason, even just to quickly change positions. And, sadly, once Little Eddie decided he had lost interest, there was virtually nothing either of you could do to make him cooperate again.
While you both practically had the commercials for Viagra memorized by this point, medications were not something that could be done. Eddie had no problem with seeking out help, but the cost of the prescription alone was extremely prohibitive, much less the cost of the doctor’s appointment needed to get one.
One thing was for sure though. On the nights when his cock went on strike, as Eddie himself always phrased it, he made sure you were never left unsatisfied. He was always extra attentive, his normal mix of praise and degradation switching to pure praise for you. There was no edging, no overstimulation, just one orgasm after another as he worshiped your body with his fingers and tongue.
With all of the extra attention he gave you, you never had any fears that he wasn’t staying hard due to a lack of interest in you. Eddie made damn sure of that. The one time that inner demonic voice did pop up, you asked him about it just to be sure. He answered your question by making you squirt all over your vibrator multiple times.
Then your body started changing. And once that began, it felt like you were going through a complete upheaval. From your cycle to your emotions, everything started to feel completely different. And then, to top everything off, you started having some difficulty getting wet, which eventually progressed to having problems staying wet.
Just like with Eddie’s, it didn’t happen all the time. It was a purely random, but a fairly common, occurrence. He was always incredibly understanding about it, even perfectly willing to stop and take care of himself later on if you weren’t in the mood to continue. You never let that happen though, always wanting to get him off yourself instead. No matter if it was with your mouth or your hands, you never wanted to leave Eddie unsatisfied either.
And that was how things continued until one of your friends suggested trying some lube.
While the two of you had lube and used it for other sexual acts, it hadn’t occurred to either of you that it might really help with your dryness. You both felt silly about that afterwards once you’d tried it and found that it worked like a charm.
But, on some nights, even giving your body the extra help to get Eddie inside you still wasn’t enough to get you going. You would certainly be in the mood get utterly wrecked, but your cunt would be a cunt and not contribute anything worthwhile to the experience except for the warm hole.
When this happened, you always encouraged Eddie to keep going and finish himself off. There was no use in trying to make you cum at that point, a fact you both were well aware of. Any attempt would just leave you sore, uncomfortable and no closer to orgasm than before. But him continuing to fuck you wasn’t an unpleasant experience. The lube made his hard length glide smoothly through your delicate center. The careful, steady pace he kept was neither too hard nor too soft, too fast nor too slow. He always took his time, even if it took him longer to cum, because he wanted it to be an enjoyable experience for you too.
When your body wasn’t aroused, you discovered that your inner walls weren’t as sensitive, decreasing a lot of the sensations you would normally feel while having sex. That wasn’t to say it was unpleasant. Far from it. You loved having him inside you, even then. With Eddie’s slow, steady pace, and sometimes a little extra lube, you’d soon find yourself opened up to him completely without any sort of discomfort. If you had to describe it, you would say it felt more like an inner massage rather than sex. It still felt good and was even relaxing.
However, the one thing that made the whole experience worth it was getting to focus all of your attention on Eddie.
Usually when you were having sex, by the time his cock finally entered you, you would already be so fucked out that you couldn’t focus on anything else but the feeling of him finally being inside you. But now, during these times when each thrust wasn’t hurtling you closer to an earth-shattering orgasm, you got to notice little things you never had the chance to pay attention to before.
The way Eddie bites his bottom lip when he’s lining himself up to you. The way little tremors run through his body as the head of his cock finally pushes into your cunt. The way his eyes close and his jaw goes slack when he bottoms out. The way the muscle lines of his chest and abdomen flex with every thrust of his hips. The way he groans when he’s getting closer to orgasm, just before his thrusting picks up speed. The way his breathing grows just as erratic as his thrusting. The way his eyes roll back in his head when he cums. The way he’s fucked out and breathless when he collapses on top of you. The way he squeezes your body so very close to his until he can move again.
You didn’t know if it was possible to have mental orgasms, but it sure felt like you did as you watched Eddie in awestruck wonder as he used your body for his own pleasure. It was intensely intimate in its own way. Even if you didn’t get off physically, you were still left feeling satisfied and in bliss as your trembling lover laid in your arms, coming down from his own orgasmic high.
Presently, you watched over your shoulder as Eddie added a bit more lube to his cock before placing the bottle on the nightstand. He resumed stroking his shaft, making sure the hard length was evenly coated with the semi thick liquid.
Once he had come back over to you and repositioned himself behind you, you arched your back so it would push your ass further into the air. You then proceeded to give it a little shake and grinned back at him.
Eddie chuckled, giving your ass a little slap then a squeeze with his free hand.
“Still so needy for me,” he said, scooching forward a bit more in order to line himself up with you again. “Not even wet but you still want to be filled by my cock.”
Eddie could call you the needy one all he wanted, but you both knew the truth. He was far more needy than you ever were. When he needed to be inside you, he might also need you to beg for it first, for example, or he might decide he needs to make you cum three times before he needs to fuck you.
But, even still, between his choice of words and the loving, yet lustful tone of his voice, a small wave of pleasurable tingles washed over you. You bit down on your bottom lip, unable to stop yourself from blushing at how much he sounded like he wanted you.
Sadly, there was no response to Eddie’s words from downstairs despite how the rest of your body was reacting.
“What can I say?” you asked, then gasped softly as you felt the head of his cock starting to push into you. “I just fucking love how you feel inside me, no matter what.”
Eddie didn’t reply with words, he just made a soft humming sound of approval.
Once the head of his cock was nestled just inside your entrance, he stopped moving for a moment to let your body relax around him. Then he began a slow, shallow thrusting, at first working you open with just the head of his cock. Soon though, he began sinking a bit further and further into you with each inward thrust.
He only paused once after starting, and that was to check in with you briefly. When you verbally confirmed you were okay, he resumed that same slow and careful thrusting until he was almost fully inside you.
There was a longer pause now, both to check in with you again and to let your body adjust. Even with everything you did before during foreplay and the aid of the lube, your body still wasn’t fully ready to take him. It didn’t hurt but wasn’t exactly comfortable either. Not at first, at least, during these first few moments with his hard length resting inside you.
Soon, Eddie began to slowly, but carefully, do half rolls with his hips. He wasn’t pulling out more than halfway before sliding back in to not overwhelm you, gradually working you open. As your muscles relaxed, the head of his cock naturally probed deeper with each inward thrust.
When he was finally able to bottom out, the head of his cock pushed against that one hard to reach spot deep inside you that made always made you gasp.
Instead of gasping though, you moaned as a small and unexpected wave of pleasure washed over your body.
While it didn’t happen every time Eddie fucked you through a literal dry spell, sometimes he could hit that spongey spot just right and it was like he crossed your wires to jump start your body.
This was one of those times.
“Fuck, Eddie, just like that,” you managed to gasp after he did it again, resulting in another loud moan. “That, keep doing that!”
He didn’t need to be told twice.
It only took a few more thrusts against your most sensitive of spots before you felt heat finally start to build inside you. It quickly spread outward through your whole body, then finally settled between your legs. Your gasps and heavy breathing gave way to moans and whimpers. It wasn’t long before you could feel a texture change between your inner walls and his cock as your own wetness was added. The sensitivity of your inner walls increased, making the drag of his cock through you feel even better.
Finally, your body was responding properly to your husband’s attention.
Eddie could feel it too, your natural slick taking away some of the artificial feeling of the lube and making your cunt feel more like you again.
“That’s it,” he softly groaned down at you, keeping the same steady pace as one hand left your ass to softly rub up and down the center of your back for a moment. “That’s my girl. Let’s get that pretty cunt all nice and wet for me.”
Just as he intended, Eddie’s words went straight to your core. You felt your inner walls twitch around him for the first time tonight, which made him groan at the feeling. Hearing Eddie voice his pleasure in turn only made you wetter.
Now that you were closer to your normal state of arousal, Eddie picked up speed for just a few moments, making your moans come out higher pitched, before slowing back down to his previous pace.
“Gotta say,” he panted as his hands softly kneaded your ass cheeks. “I love how it feels when your cunt starts getting wet around me.”
“Yeah?” you asked, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder again.
“Yeah,” Eddie said, then pulled his cock out to the tip before slowly sheathing it back in you, making you both groan deeply. “It’s like- fuck! It’s like your body just starts fucking begging for my cock.”
While the two of you didn’t get as rough as you used to when you were younger, some of the lower impact kinks had carried over through the years. One of these was begging. No matter how many years went by, Eddie still absolutely loved to hear you beg for his cock. It made sense that he would interpret your body suddenly becoming responsive in this way.
Before he could start going faster and fuck you senseless, you stretched one hand above you to grab one of the pillows at the head of the bed. Seeing this, Eddie stopped for a moment so you could pull it down under your head and make yourself more comfortable.
After placing the pillow where you wanted it, you laid your upper half down on the bed, keeping your ass in the air. One of Eddie’s hands softly stroked your body, caressing up and down your side as you arranged your arms under the pillow then laid your head on it. You gave a little shake of your ass to let him know when you were ready.
He resumed at a careful pace, thrusting into you way more gently than normal. After slowly building back up to his previous speed, he gradually began going faster, giving you plenty of time to adjust with each increase.
Now you could feel that your body was completely back to its normal state, where every thrust was now intensely pleasurable. Your cunt now dripped with your own wetness, making the lube from earlier run down your inner thighs as Eddie fucked it out of you.
But not only that, you felt that coil in your belly start to tighten, the first sign of a building orgasm.
“Fuck, Eddie, harder!” you cried, your eyes squeezed shut.
“Gonna cum for me tonight, baby?” he asked, groaning as you nodded frantically into the pillow in response. “Fuck yes. Music to my ears.”
Now he no longer held back. With sharp thrusts of his hips, Eddie slammed his cock deep inside you. You moaned loudly, clutching onto the mattress under the pillow now. He gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back into him with every thrust. The head of his cock pushed deep into you, delightfully rubbing against all of your most sensitive areas.
“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he said, then groaned as you clenched around him at the praise.
You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, but not fast enough. You didn’t think either of you would make it at this pace. Since both of you had similar issues where your bodies could simply loose interest halfway through, you two had gotten really good at shorter sessions. You had been going for a while now and there was the very real chance that if you both didn’t finish soon, neither of you would get to.
“Eddie,” you gasped between moans. “Please.”
Without a word, Eddie shifted his position one last time, then pounded into you in that way you both loved. You cried his named and gasped curses, and he answered with grunted praise and breathy moans. One of his hands slid around your body and down between your legs, his fingers extending to rub the lips of your cunt around the shaft of his cock. When his fingers were slick with a mix of lube and your wetness, he dragged them down your folds to start rubbing circles around your clit.
“Fuck!” you screamed into your pillow, the force of his thrusts pushing your face into it.
As your cunt started to twitch around his cock, Eddie rubbed his fingers around your clit faster. He continued thrusting his cock into you, but his movements were starting to grow erratic as his own orgasm approached.
“C’mon, baby,” he panted, the hand he still on your hip griping onto it tightly. “Need to feel you cum first.”
The circles around your clit grew smaller and smaller until the pads of his fingers were circling directly over the throbbing nub. You nearly screamed in pleasure at the sensation. His fingers were so slick there was no friction, the tips of his fingers gliding easily back and forth over it.
At the position you were in, you couldn’t exactly move too much, but that didn’t stop you from trying to buck your hips forward into his hand. When Eddie felt this, he added a bit more pressure to your clit with his fingers.
Between the attention on your clit and his cock hitting deep into you, you were soon coming undone. When the coil snapped, you cried out his name and your cunt clamped down around his cock. You could feel yourself getting wetter just from your orgasm, so wet that Eddie actually slipped out of you as you were cresting over the edge. He cursed loudly, quickly reaching between you two to push himself back into your cunt.
His thrusting was the same hard and fast pace it was before, almost restarting your orgasm as he chased his own now. You felt yourself getting pushed over the edge again and your body trembled under his. The cry of pleasure that left your lips sounded closer to a sob as the feeling washed over you like a wave.
“Fuck, that’s it, fuck, fuck!” Eddie cried, slamming himself into you.
With a one last thrust so hard it made you squeak, his cock began to unload inside you, shooting his cum deep into your cunt.
His movements gradually slowed, and he continued to gently fuck you until hips finally came to a stop, his cock fully sheathed in you still. Your moans softened into breathless whimpers, finally settling into a heavy pattern of breathing.
It took a moment, but Eddie was finally able to pull out of you, then moved over so he could lay next to you on the bed. You turned to face him, and he slipped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest.
The two of you laid like that for quite a while, not talking but just enjoying being in each other’s arms. Eddie softly ran his hands and fingertips over your body, lovingly caressing you while he nuzzled the side of your head.
While he was always tender after sex, he always put in so much extra care after times like this where your body started off being unresponsive to his touch. Regardless of how it ended, with you being able to cum from it, Eddie knew how it started. You had only been doing this for him. In his eyes, you would’ve gotten nothing out of it had your body not decided to play along.
It still amazed him that you were still willing to do that, were willing to suggest it even since he certainly never would’ve had that idea on his own. He was always perfectly willing to stop anytime you couldn’t get wet, his needs always secondary to your comfort. Continuing to fuck you if you weren’t aroused was usually the last thing on his mind. Indeed, it had taken quite a bit of convincing for him to do it the first few times. He only became okay with the idea once he saw it wouldn’t hurt you.
Little did Eddie realize that’s exactly why you were so adamant that you make sure he’s taken care of. He never asks for it, never expects it even. He always took your lead on anything sexual that could cause you unintended discomfort. He even took no for an answer and would completely drop the subject immediately once the word was said, even in his body language.
As a result, in your eyes, Eddie Munson was more than deserving of all the best orgasms you could provide him.
After you two had been laying there for quite a while, another feeling of heat began to start in the lower part of your belly, but this one was quite different than the heat you felt earlier. It quickly spread through your body like a wildfire, finally settling in your stomach, twisting it around until you were nauseous.
You quickly scrambled away from Eddie, the normally comforting warmth of his body suddenly way too much for you. Swinging your feet to the floor, you sat up and leaned over, your forearms on your knees and your head dangling down. Despite the heat you felt all over, a cold, clammy sweat broke out from the top of your head.
The bed shifted around behind you, then you felt Eddie come sit next to you. He was close, but not touching you, since he recognized what was happening. You closed your eyes, feeling him watching you, but you didn’t mind.
It took a couple minutes, but the nausea eventually faded a little bit after the heat started to recede to somewhere back inside your abdomen.
You slowly sat back up and took a deep breath. It sounded a bit shaky as you let it out, a fact Eddie immediately picked up on. He placed one hand at the center of your back and started rubbing it in comforting circles.
“Bad one this time?” he asked softly, and you nodded. “Want me to help you get to the shower?”
You thought about it for a second. This was definitely one of those times where you needed one immediately after sex. The combination of lube, your wetness, your cum and his had coated your cunt and the skin of your inner thighs. But you shook your head. When the hot flashes were bad enough to make you sick like that, they also made you feel very weak for a while afterwards.
“Not just yet,” you said. “My legs are feeling shaky after that one.”
“I would hope so,” he said, grinning at you playfully as he puffed out his chest with pride. “That was some pretty good fucking work, if I do say do myself.”
You couldn’t help but chuckle as you playfully slapped his arm.
It never failed, no matter how badly these hormonal changes made you feel, Eddie could always make you feel a bit better.
When he left the room to get you a cold, wet washcloth for the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but wonder again why they were called “hot flashes” anyway. Calling them that was a huge understatement, like if you were to call the fires of hell a mere barbecue pit.
#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson one shot
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falling in love (with a feeling) | poly!prongsfoot x reader | mafia!au
“My mother taught me that the only way to get over a man is to get under another one.” Percilla said with a devious, lopsided smirk. An hour and a half ago, she’d all but pushed her way into your apartment, making a strategic beeline towards your closet, hauling a pink duffle bag half her size over her arm.
“Of course, she didn’t take different gender preferences into account back then, and she wasn’t exactly a saint in those years either. But ignoring the way she freezes up now, acting like it’s hard business to recall what I see as pivotal moments of her influence on me as a child- I found that it works like a charm!”
She was an almost comical mass of multiple moving parts. Running a comb through your hair one moment, rifling through your drawers and pressing various articles of clothing into your hands the next.
A little black dress, smoky eye, and glossed lips with loose hair and you were deemed ready. ‘Keep it simple and any interested parties will do the rest!’ She’d remarked proudly. Throwing the last of her things back into the oversized bag before setting it in the corner of your bathroom, grabbing her purse and walking to the door with a purpose; the Lyft ride had already been waiting for three whole minutes by then.
But rooms full of inebriated, horny strangers had never been your style, and people you don’t know pose unwarranted dangers while sleeping with them foretold even more. So without a single intention to follow her plan to the last bulletin, you decide to simply enjoy what you could and head home with your conscience intact.
Though instead of her usual stomping grounds, she’d brought you to the more expensive side of town. An A-list club which was guaranteed to house the most well off socialites in the city. The name very faintly registering even if you couldn’t place where, or in what context exactly it had been mentioned.
“Marauder’s Map? Perc, I’ve never been here before. And I definitely don’t have the cash for more than two drinks.” You’d said feeling quite apprehensive but sticking close behind her nonetheless; following even as she exited the car cutting the entire line of waiting patrons and blaring the bright screen of her phone in the bouncer’s face.
Much to your surprise, the towering man does not berate the two of you. Instead his mouth purses to the side, a thick brow arching quizzically as he grimly asks, “And the phrase is?”
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
Then, without any hassle or need for lengthy explanations, you’re both allowed inside. Granted a smooth entry as she grabs ahold of your hand, expertly guiding you through groups of people like a woman on a mission.
“I haven’t told you,” She speaks in a secretive tone, linking an arm with yours and slowing her stride as she scans the room, and the countless faces it holds, with a discerning eye. “But, I met a guy. He’s rich, like Will Smith or Jay Z and Beyoncé building-generational-fucking-wealth rich. And he’s gorgeous, of course. That has to be a given, no matter the amount of money he has.”
“And you have, or you're actively trying to sleep with him?” You ask, studying her perfectly pretty face with her highlighted blonde hair, overlined eyes and sateen lips- fully thinking that she was just stunning, and crazy, enough to pull off bagging some nameless, New York City billionaire socialite.
She stops walking and turns to you with raised brows like you’re missing something that’s right in front of your face.
“No, you dummy.” She laughs and it’s an airy but fond kind of sound. One that peppers your cheeks with soft puffs of air before jovially filling the space around you. “I’m trying to marry him.”
Oh, you think. Eyebrows lifting before you're the one that’s letting out a quiet laugh.
She doesn’t like that however, releasing your arm and allowing it to slap back down to your side as her lips morph into a displeased frown.
“Perc, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m just shocked, is all.” You say immediately after, attempting to do quick and precise damage control. “I mean, you’re younger than me and twenty just seems like an awfully young age to literally tie yourself to someone else. Let alone some guy with as much affluence and cash to throw as you say he has.”
“He’s not just some guy, like I found him at a 7/11 and decided he was the one. He’s one of the most well-known men in the state, not to mention the entire country. And you not being ready when you were my age does not automatically dictate the rest of the world’s timeline. I know what I want, and I will not be laydoned with someone else’s insecurities.” The words slip past her lips like water from a tap and you stand there stunned and quiet; blinking at her, as you think she might as well have just slapped you clean in the face, and saved you the mental gymnastics.
“‘Cilla!” A voice calls out from behind her, ripping the two of you out of the tense space you’d found yourself sunken in.
When the man comes into view, he wraps an overly familiar arm over her shoulders and there's a stark height difference compared to either of you. A few integral inches which make it so that he has to subtly bend his neck to properly look her in the eyes.
His sleek, raven black hair tucked behind one ear as the opposing side curtains his face like flowing silk, caressing his cheeks and resting at his shoulders.
Black slacks with a matching dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleek boots fitted on his feet. Thin, gold chains glint around his neck in the dim light as the open space reveals a multitude of tattoos, the ink continuing down his exposed forearms where the sleeves have been rolled up. He is gorgeous, a true Samson, and you decide then and there, that you hate him. Or, at the very least, feel inconvenienced by him in more ways than one.
“Sirius,” Percilla greets with a warm smile, her mood considerably dampened but seemingly willing herself to perk back up as she reminds herself of the main objective.
“Comment allez-vous? I’m glad you could make it.” He asks before immediately defeating the purpose of speaking, his middle and index finger gently coaxing her jaw so that her neck turns further to face him, making you stand witness to the way his lips interlock with her own.
It ends just as quickly as it was initiated before those steely blue eyes are turning on you and the effect is borderline frightful. His attention makes your skin feel clammy and as though your body is burning at a temperature of 105, and you’re certain that regardless of how needlessly overdramatic the word is, you’re certain that you hate him.
“And who is this?” He asks, oddly refusing to break eye contact with you.
“My friend, the one I told you about? You might not remember.” She answers and you internally blanche.
“No, no. I remember now!” He laughs as he‘s reminded of whatever god awful event or memory she’d previously recounted to him, extending his free hand towards you. “Sirius Black. It’s nice to finally put a name to a face. Ravi de faire votre connaissance.”
You stare blankly at the larger, outstretched fingers, look back up at him and force your lips to contort into a thin-mouthed smile, “Enchantée.”
Turning to Percilla with the same false glee, you jerk your head towards the bar with a curt, “Don’t let me keep you, I’ll be at the bar.” Before giving him one final smile and departing.
Sliding over a bar stool, you stare at the bartender, aware of the fact that there’s plenty of other people who’ve either ordered or are waiting to order- but after a solid four minutes pass, you’re certain the asshole is purposefully ignoring you.
“Malcolm.” A low voice chimes above your head and with a quick glance you find that Sirius has slipped in alongside you with ease, the bartender nearly breaking his neck with the speed at which he turns in your direction before clearing the distance in two and half steps.
“Now what would you like, dear?” The handsome bastard asks, tilting his head towards you like he could wait all night for an answer. All of his attention and focus circled in on you.
The sexist bartender looks at him, while he looks at you and you peer back with furrowed brows and pursed, glossy lips.
‘Well, at least I can finally order.’ You inwardly grumble, letting out a sigh before breathing out an answer, “Brandy Old-Fashioned, washed with lemon-lime soda. Three cherries, please.”
Sirius continues to lean against the bar on one elbow, legs crossed at the ankles as he looks down at you, his eyes slightly narrowed with the faintest smirk turning up the corners of his mouth as he slowly nods, turns and orders as well. “The usual. Both are on me, Malcolm.”
“Coming right up, sir.” The younger man replies before making quick, but precise work of it as though someone lit a fire under his ass.
“You own the place.” You quietly remark, looking up at him as a shot glass is presented in front of him with a soft clank, an even mix of ginger ale and whiskey.
“Partially. One-fourth, split evenly.” He answers, smirking like a human Cheshire Cat.
Your drink arrives, precisely how you asked for it and Sirius gives the boy a curt nod, signaling for him to return to assisting other waiting customers. And maybe it’s the slow way you sip from the glass, biting into a maraschino cherry tentatively, or just the look in your eye, but his mouth switches to a smile as he throws back the shot, emptying it in a single gulp and deftly wetting his lips.
“You’re the style consultant.” He says appraisingly, perhaps verbally jogging his memory. “The one who works in the luxury suit shop, doing fittings and resizing slacks.”
You silently nod, eyeing him suspiciously with furrowed brows. “Yeah.”
“‘Cilla mentioned you a few nights back, said you wouldn’t tell her everything that was going on but she suspected it was taking a toll- that you were stressed.” His eyes were narrowed, a rye smile gracing his lips as he spoke. “She thought a night out would do some good, take your mind off things.”
“Did she?” You ask rhetorically, voice dry.
“Yeah.” He nods, “And is it?”
“What?”
“Is it helping distract you?” He prods, as if it’s any of his business, or concern.
Downing the last of your drink, the ice tinkles melodically as you set it back down. “No. It hasn’t.”
Coping with the ending of a three year long relationship was one thing. You could learn to do the mundane activities alone again, could get over how isolating it felt to crawl into bed and know there was no one to join you.
Giving up your apartment, figuring out an entirely new living arrangement and shifting money around so that rent and bills could be covered by a job that hadn’t been intended to carry all of that responsibility was another.
Pinching pennies and having to choose between budgeting or enjoying yourself had a way of slowly draining the life out of you until all that was left were irrational anxieties, fears and feelings of hopelessness. You didn’t want to talk about it because you had to live with the reality of the situation every second of the day and you hardly expected someone younger than you to be able to help much, so naturally Percilla wouldn’t know the full story.
“I figured as much.” He agrees, tapping the bar and smiling down at you as you all but glare back. “You've had a drink, why don’t you head home? I’ll keep an eye on Percilla, make sure she doesn’t get into too much trouble this time around- and send her back to her flat in one piece with a story to tell.”
“Though for you, rest will do you more good than standing around in those high heels will.” He jests cheekily, looking particularly pleased at the way you glower at his poking remark but before you can reply, he’s shooting a wink at you and walking away; his dark form dissolving between the throngs of people.
part II
#mafia!marauders#mafia au#sirius black x reader#the marauders x reader#the marauders#prongsfoot#sirius black imagine#sirius black#sirius black x reader x james potter#poly marauders#hp blurb#hp#harry potter blurb#harry potter#marauders era#harry potter imagine
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Hi! i love reading you little stories about danny ‘jed olsen’ johnson!! I was hoping you could make a post about how he would look, like: many body scars, soft muscular body, or strong and tougher kind of body.
Hope you understood what i was asking for, i tried to explain it the best i can! <3
You mean like general headcanons? I did a mixture of both his appearance and his personality if that’s okay. There is a link of a visual of what I think Danny looks like at the very bottom. Hope you enjoy!
The Ghost Face/Danny Johnson
This man has many scars all over his body from his victims trying to defend themselves, but failed. Where he has scars the most is definitely his legs and chest where victims have landed sharp objects deep past his suit, into his skin. I guess his leather suit can’t protect him all the time. He has a giant scar running right through his left eyebrow. Him being the cocky bastard he is, he loves to show it off to his coworkers and make up an insane story for it. The crazy thing is that they actually believe him.
His gaze can intimidate anyone. He has these stern yellow eyes that will make you shrink into your skin if he glares at you. However, when he gives someone puppy dog eyes, you can’t resist. There’s no way you can say no to those gorgeous yellow eyes. Additionally, I just wanted to say, his eyes make him look cat-like. 😂
Danny has a very lean body. He has to be strong so he can overpower his victims. However, he isn’t bulky because he also has to be fast and carrying a ton of muscle will slow him down. He definitely works out a lot. I’d say he runs 7-8 miles and hits the gym at least two hours everyday because, let me tell you, he is definitely shredded. (I’m sorry. This headcanon is definitely the runner coming out of me.)
Danny has short, but fluffy black hair. He makes sure to keep it silky soft so he can easily run his hands through it. Also, to wow the ladies; he knows women love a man with gorgeous, silky hair. Dingus.
Dude, this man is literally so silent. He can judge which floorboards creak, which doors squeal when opened, what shadows keep him hidden from sight. It’s insane. Literally a god.
I think we all have gotten a glimpse of how much of an asshole and narcissist he is. He’s extremely mischievous, confident, and thinks he’s the biggest lady-killer. Spoiler alert! He really isn’t no lady-killer: he can’t even get a lady for the life of him. His cheesy pick-up lines and flirting skills are full of crap. He better be glad he has his looks or he’d get himself slapped across the face.
Danny is a fantastic photographer. He makes sure that any photo he takes is on point. He’s a perfectionist. If he takes a photo, no matter if it’s for work or snapping photos of victims, it has to be perfect or he scratches it out of his camera roll.
He is a great writer as well. I don’t know why the Roseville Gazette would hire him if he wasn’t. 🤷♀️ Anyways, a fucking unit at punctuation. He uses semicolons way too much than he probably should, just like me, and he knows it too. Hey! If it looks good and sounds good then that is all that matters. He’s also a pretty fast typer and always proofreads his writing at least 4 times before turning it in for publishing. He tends to get all his work done before all his coworkers.
He keeps a journal where he writes important information about his victims: where they live, their daily routines, and stuff like that. He also sketches out what each and every one of his victims looks like next to his notes.
He’s pretty cold-hearted and has an obsession for fame and recognition. He wants everyone to know who he is and to fear him. He’s addicted to the fear frozen on his victims faces when he calls them and has dozens of pictures of his victims hidden in his nightstand drawer to use for his articles.
Even though he’s a phenomenal journalist, he doesn’t get paid that much so this man literally lives off of ramen. However, he loves himself a nice home cooked meal: anything that takes a long time to cook to be honest. He would cook if he wasn’t so bad at it.
He loves himself a good bargain; he loves the power they hold over someone. The moment someone breaks their side of the deal, he can break his and they’re over and done with if you know what I mean. 👀
He loves drama. He’ll listen to all the tea and no one will know he’s listening in either. He’ll start spreading it around to all the other coworkers. Now everyone knows the business. That’s why you never whisper shit while Danny is around because he’ll get a hold of that gossip one way or another.
Danny Johnson visual
Hey you guys! Just a quick note that I’ll get to your requests on Saturday. This was the easiest request in my inbox so I didn’t have to think about what I wanted to write as much as I have to with other requests. I’m just so exhausted from camp, but I wanted to post something new for you guys to read. I hope you enjoyed it.
#slashers#slasher x reader#slashers x reader#horror#dead by daylight x reader#dead by deadlight#dbd killer#danny johnson#danny johnson x reader#jed olsen#jed olsen x reader#danny jed olsen johnson#slasher#sophi ghostie writes#ghostface#the ghostface#ghostface x reader#dbd ghostface
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A storm is raging outside the Unremarkable House. What’s going on inside?
It only took five minutes before the power failed. One minute it was sunny, and the next the sky darkened and a thick gray cloud rolled in, tucked up tightly into the one in front of it, neat as hospital corners. Two bright flashes, one roll of thunder, and that was it: it all went dark.
Mulder had talked about having a generator installed, but they hadn’t gotten around to it and they found themselves in the dull dim, forks poised halfway to their mouths, the old oven clicking as it cooled, vegetarian lasagne congealing quietly on the table in front of them.
Mulder banged around in the kitchen, looking for lighters, for candles, while Scully calmly glugged a little more Syrah into her wine glass, tranquil in spite of the tempest outside the unremarkable house.
A harsh low swear word, and she leaned forward, elbows on the table, a crumb biting into her skin.
“Leave it Mulder,” she said serenely, "it doesn't matter. There’s still enough light to see by. Sunset’s not for another three hours.” The wine had made her loose limbed and sedate, all airy and warm bones, her body slow to react to the thunder shaking the house.
Mulder slowly erected himself to standing where he was hunched over the kitchen junk drawer, giving her a frank assessing look. “You’re drunk,” he said, not quite accusing, not at all upset.
She shrugged and took another sip of wine, letting the liquid roll over the back of her tongue, the dry tang of leather and tobacco, currant and jam filling her senses and warming her belly.
“I’m just saying, let your rods and cones adjust. You’ll be able to see enough to eat.”
He crossed his arms, leaned against the countertop behind him. Despite the dim, she could make out the delineation of muscle in his forearms, the dark spray of hair over the skin. She may or may not have touched the skin below her throat.
“What about the leftovers?” he asked. “I can’t see enough to clean up. Power might not be back up until tomorrow. Should we get this in the fridge?”
She pinned him with her stare. “You open that refrigerator door and I’ll take you out at the knees.”
He didn’t seem to be entirely intimidated by her threat, instead looking intrigued, and played a little with the neck of his shirt.
“There may not be enough leftovers to save, fine, but what about all the veggies?” He’d put together a small serving of greens, and the sideboard was still piled with lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes. “I’d hate to see it all go bad.”
Something about the way he was fingering his collar made her a little warm under her own. She set down the wine glass, leaned forward.
“You don’t win friends with salad,” she said, and despite the shadows that enveloped the room, she saw something sharpen behind his eyes.
“Oh?” he said, shoving off the countertop and approaching her slowly. “How do you win friends?”
“I actually read a book about this,” she said, as if he weren’t intimately familiar with every book on their shelf.
“And what did it say?” he asked, and he was looming over her by the time she started ticking off things on her fingers, wind buffeting off of the shutters, rain tinking into the glass.
“Don’t criticize,” she said, touching a finger. “Give honest and sincere appreciation,” she continued, touching another. Mulder licked his lips and his eyes seemed to flit over her face. “Arouse in the other person an eager want,” she went on.
He leaned forward slowly, gripping the arms of her chair until they creaked under his hands.
“Arouse,” he repeated slowly, “an eager want.” A flash of lightning cut across the sky, illuminating, for less than a split second, the rough weft of his beard and the dark round void of his pupils.
“Mm-hmm,” she said, losing her train of thought.
A fresh wave of rain began to pound on the roof.
“I believe,” Mulder said, leaning down into her space, “that my rods and cones have adjusted.”
She leaned back. “And can you see enough to eat?” she asked primly.
He lowered himself slowly to his knees, joints popping as he settled himself in front of her. “I think you’re right,” he said, reaching for her fly, “I don’t think light is going to be a problem.”
Her blood fizzed and pooled low in her abdomen.
“You forming any criticisms?” he asked, lowering the zipper of her pants one rough tooth at a time.
She shook her head, reached out to fan her fingers through the dark pelt of his hair.
“Only honest and sincere appreciation,” she said, and the storm raged on.
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A Change
Marc Spector X GN!Reader
Masterlist
Summary: Marc always takes care of you, and always takes the lead in bed. Today, you think it's time for a change of pace when he looks like he needs to be taken care of in return.
Warnings: smut, reach around hand-job, subby?Marc? lots of praise, moon titties, Marc's lil tum tum I love soooooo much, lil bit sad Marc but we make it better.... uh I think thats it. enjoy
A/N i tried to make this gender neutral but I am a cis woman so sometimes this is my default, but I'm actively trying to change my one shots to make them more accessible. if i missed anything that got in the way of imersability, please let me know
**********
Marc Spector looked like hell. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he looked beautiful, as always.
But he looked like he had been through hell, dragged through kicking and screaming. Again.
“Baby?” You ask, getting up from the couch. “What’s wrong, Marc?”
He shook his head, leaning into your touch as he closed his eyes. “Don’t really wanna talk about it, I left it at the door. Don’t wanna bring it into our home”
“Okay” You whisper, holding his stubbled face. “I want you to be open with me, I love you, this is a partnership” You spoke softly, never wanting to pressure him.
“I know,” He nodded. “Can we talk tomorrow? Maybe go on a walk? I don’t want to associate that with our house, I’m serious about that.”
“Of course, my love. Have you ate today baby?”
He nods, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah, I grabbed a burger, you?”
“Yeah, I ate” You guide him towards the bathroom “Why don’t you shower, okay?”
“Yeah” Marc managed to breath out, exhausted.
You hear him start the shower and scramble to get everything ready. You toss the flannel pj’s he swore he’d never wear but ended up being his favorites (with matching fuzzy socks), a throw blanket and a fluffy towel in the drawer. You start the tea in the kettle and get yourself into pajamas as well. When the shower stops, you call into the shower “Don’t dry off yet baby!” And you bring him the warm towel, keeping everything else drying.
When you brought him the warm towel to where he stood naked in the rub, Marc looked at you like no one had ever shown him an ounce of kindness in his life. “Dry yourself off and come to the living room”
He toweled off, trailing after you into the ‘living room’ of the studio apartment. He marveled at the sight of you bent over to the dryer. You take out the pjs and socks to hand to him, and he smiles softly at you, eyes full of love and adoration as he dresses, your big, tough, fist of vengeance wearing fuzzy purple socks.
Marc wraps his arms around you, his cheeky little hands settling at your ass. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” His words were rhetorical, but his tone was so soft, you knew there was some real question there.
“You exist” You kiss his lips, taking his hand and pulling him to the bed.
He hesitates “Babe…”
You turn to him, concerned. “We don’t have to do anything, baby.”
Marc ran the show in bed. He always listened to you, of course, but in general he set the pace, and you did as you were told, but right now he seemed like he needed to be taken care of.
He shook his head, smiling but tired. “No, I do, but… I’m just tired, is it okay if we take it easy tonight?” He kissed you deeply. “I really, really want you, but… slower?” Sex with Marc was usually a work out. A marathon sometimes, sweaty and wet and heated. He was asking for slow, calm, loving.
The roles felt so… reversed, but you were happy to take care of him, happy to protect and reassure him. “I had another idea, actually…” You sit at the bed, back up against the bedpost, patting between your spread legs. Marc smiles, starting to crawl between you, looking like he’s going to eat you out, and you close up, giving him a tsk tsk tsk. “Not like that, sit up against me, pretty boy”
Marc looked confused, but did as he was told, sitting with his back against your chest. You began slowly, wrapping your arms around his board waist, nestling your face into his neck and hair. “I love you so much, Marc, you know that, right?”
“Y-yes” He was melting to your touch.
You begin to explore his body over the warm flannel pajamas, feeling his strong arms and dipping your hands under the top of his clothes to feel his tummy. “Love you so fucking much, Marc”
“MMmmmm” was all he replied, his tense body relaxing.
You reach down over his pants, and feel his semi-hard cock, palming the outline with the soft material. “So fucking big, love feeling you in my hand.” Once he was fully hardened, you grab the lubricant on the nightstand, rubbing it on your hand before taking his dick out, feeling his chest at the same time.
The sound that escaped Marc as you coordinated the first stroke with your other hand groping at his tit, it was loud and fucking feral.
When you looked at his face, smiling, he looked embarrassed, but you took his mouth in your, practically inhaling him. “Fuck baby, keep making those sounds” You keep stroking him, feeling his body writh in your grasp.
“God, baby, you, you are, f-fuck” He threw his head back onto your shoulder and you sucked possessive hickies into his neck.
As you began playing with the tip and balls, his chest rose and his legs started shaking, and you wrap your legs around his, pinning them to the bed as you lessen the stimulation. “Not yet, baby” you scolded, catching a peak of his strained face as he came down from the edging.
“You’re so meeeeaann” He whined, but chuckled.
You kiss him on the cheek, running your fingers through his thick hair as you continue pumping him painfully slow. “I know baby” You unbutton his flannel, leaving his chest open bare to you and admiring the way his stomach folded just a bit at his bent angle.
“You’re just getting revenge” He joked, breath hitching as you swipe your thumb over the sensitive tip. Marc loved to edge you.
“I would never” You were, a little bit. You took out your vibrator from the drawer. “Can I try this?” You squeeze his thick thighs, appreciating every inch of him. “Wanna make you feel good”
“Baby” He said, exasperated, “You can do anything if you let me come”
You chuckle, turning it on “Not yet, Marc” You run the vibrating toy over his cock, finding that he really really, really, liked when you swiped it along the large vein on the underside.
“God! God, f-FUCK! Jesus christ, I love you, I love you, I love you, fuck b-baby, love you s’much” Marc began babbling, thoroughly unraveling for you.
He started bucking again, testing the strength of your legs hold on him. You turn off the vibrator to the loud groan out of his mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know, last time, I promise” You kiss him, taking a moment to let go of his dick to allow yourself to just feel him, breathe him in, exist with him. "You're doing so good, baby, so fucking good pretty boy"
Marc had other plans. He went to go grab his own cock, but you grab his arms, pulling them back. “Aht, aht, aht” You kiss him. “Let me take my time with you”
“O-okay” He relaxes.
You begin working him again, slow and strong, whispering praises in his ear. “My strong man, always protecting me, protecting our city, taking care of me” You kiss under his ear, and kissed all around his face that he turned to you, desperate for affection as you played with his balls. “Always making me feel so good, fucking me so good with your fat cock”
“Baby…” He began bucking his hips up again. “Baby please, please” He begged for you to let him cum this time, a refreshing change from your whimpers as he edged you for hours.
“You like that, baby? You like when I touch you?”
“Y-yes, love you” He began fucking your hand, and this time you let him, let him chase his high.
“Pretty boy, my pretty boy, so fucking handsome, so fucking perfect” You play with his chest, feeling his hard nipples and the flesh that surrounds them, marveling at his soft and strong body that you were so blessed with. You watched as his chest heaved and his back arched, and you whispered “come for me baby.”
legs shaking, the moans that left his mouth were sinful and loud, ending in a practical whine as he came onto your hand, his warm hot semen coating your hand and spurting over his stomach and you whispered good boy, stroking him through his orgasm. Marc’s body writhed in your grasp as you continued praising him, the orgasm hard and heavy after being edged twice, and he melted into your arms loving grasp like slipping into a bubble bath; content.
You let him lay there for a moment, Marc occasionally twitching as you continued to feel his body, and cradle his head as it rested on your lap until the kettle blew. You began to stand up with a kiss to his head, but he grabbed your arm. “Baby, stay, please?” His large eyes begging you, his fucked out and desperate expression looking more like Steven after you were finished with him.
“I’ll be right back, mi tesoro” You made him tea, sweet and sugary just like he pretended he didn’t want, and took the blanket out of the dryer where it had been warming all this time. You hand the tea to Marc, clean him up with a wipe, and snuggle up next to him under the warmth of the blanket. “You feel better?”
Marc pulled you into him, and you see he rebuttoned his shirt, looking utterly domestic. He wrapped his arm around you, coaxing you to nestle your head on the flannel. Even after that, he was still your big, strong man, and you were his to love and protect. “I feel much better.”
“And you liked that? It wasn’t too much or anything?” You ask him, like he always asks you.
“It was perfect, you were perfect” He finished his tea, setting the mug down and relaxing down to lay on the bed you shared. You held you close onto him. “I love, you know that right?”
You kiss his chest. “I could never doubt it, Marc.”
***************
I would like to apologize to my friend @my-secret-shame who i promised after I finished Seattle, I'd write part 2 to Fuck you Like an Animal.... and i did... Well i started... but I got this idea and I really just wanted to treat my comfort character right <3
anyway I hope you all liked this! If you did, be sure to check out my masterlist full of other Marc Spector content. Gonna plug a fic that FLOPPED so maybe you'd like to check it out, Marc Spector: Angel, Knight, Protector: just be sure to read the warnings
Love you all
tagging the usual whores, if anyone wants to be added or removed from the usual taglist, let me know! It will be for all oscar content, not just moon knight specific
@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @welcometostayingawake
@in-between-the-cafes @lucianadraven32 @howaboutcastiel
@ahookedheroespureheart @jake-g-lockley
#marc spector#marc spector smut#marc spector fanfic#marc spector moon knight#marc spector fluff#soft!marc spector#soft marc spector#moon knight smut#marc spector needs a hug
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Sparks Fly (Part 1) | Jake Seresin x Reader
Top Gun: Maverick - Jake Seresin x Reader
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader
Genre: romance; angst; fluff; slow burn; enemies to lovers
Warnings: unwanted advances; general hangman being hangman; general cursing; tension; fem!reader; use of terms of endearment (i.e. darlin, sweetheart, etc); general naval / flying inaccuracies; general US government / department of justice / procedural / ethics and conflict of interest inaccuracies.
Length: Mini-series, chaptered - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Epilogue
Summary: You, an up and coming prosecutor who remembers Jake Seresin not-so-fondly from college, is assigned to investigate his case, a mission gone wrong. Tensions are high and trouble ensues; Jake gets called back to TOPGUN during this period; how will you both get through the 6 months and will you both come out unscathed? (Full summary here)
Sparks Fly | Mini-Series Masterlist / Jake Seresin Masterlist
Sparks Fly - Part 1
Approximately 6.8k words
A/N: I found it really hard to write this (idk why) and considered scrapping this mini series, but decided to bulldoze on with the first part and see how it goes. So any feedback is / will be very appreciated <3
-
“Wolf, Viper, Flame.. NO.” Jake roars, as his eyes open with a start, body lurching from horizontal to a seated position. He is frantic, wide eyed, as the machines around him go into a frenzy, beeping at top speed. His features are manic, like a man crazed as an army of doctors, nurses, in scrubs run into his room at the commotion.
“Mr. Seresin, sir, you need to calm down, you are in the hospital.”
“The planes, they crashed, they… I need to save them.”
“Mr. Seresin, you are in the hospital.”
“The planes, my team.”
“Lieutenant Seresin, we need you to calm down.”
“You don’t understand, my team, they are out there, I need to get to them.”
“Lieutenant, you are the only one that came back alive.”
“Only one?” The panic in his voice dissipates, a sense of fear, loss, and hopelessness creeping in. It makes the nurse beside him throw him a sympathetic look before she glances to her colleagues gathered around his bed, their motions paused.
“I’m afraid so,” the commotion around him quiets, the beeping of the machines the only sound in the hospital room.
“They’re, they’re… dead?” His voice takes on a hoarseness as realisation seeps in.
“I’m sorry.”
Jake slumps back in the bed, his eyes haunted, hollow, hands falling by his side, fists unfurling as he throws his head back against the pillow, allowing his eyes to stare up at the ceiling, expression blank and unfeeling although his mind is spinning. Dead?
-
“Mike, you wanted to see me?” You ask as you step into the office of Michael Anderson, U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York, and also your boss.
“Got an assignment for you,” he beckons you in, while tossing a file, which he produces from the top drawer of his desk, onto the opposite side of his table. You slip into a chair, not picking up the manila folder, waiting instead for him to explain.
“Request from the DOD via the DOJ came in this morning,” he pauses to let his words sink in, and you nod in understanding at the acronym, Department of Defense; Department of Justice, “they want someone to help with an inquiry.”
“An inquiry?”
“An inquiry into an incident that happened with the Navy a while back. Mission gone wrong, three dead, only one made it back alive.” Mike summarises for you, picking out only the bare, but salient facts.
“Let me guess,” you say, finally picking up the folder in front of you, flicking open the cover, “suspected foul play because the only one that made it back alive was the mission leader, or the one that made it back was the one who gave the command that resulted in the deaths?” You ask, without missing a beat, you had previously consulted on similar cases, and it was usually the way they went; the factual pattern that set off alarm bells at the DOD level were typically similar.
“Right,” Mike hums, an indication that your guess was spot on, as he leans back in the chair, “except the Navy has already cleared the Aviator in question, but the DOD is requesting a second pair of eyes.” His response makes you look up from the file, gaze barely having scanned the first page, it was not unheard of, but rare for an inquiry to reach you after the subject had been cleared.
“Something wrong with this guy?”
“Has a reputation for not being team player, which he can’t seem to shake entirely.”
“Mhm. I’ll have Steph put in a request for the Navy inquiry and relevant transcripts, findings, interviews, the works, should be able to get you a written report with findings and a recommendation in a week or two tops,” you shut the file without looking further at the details, ready to take it with you as you depart. Apart from the fact that he had already been cleared once before, which proved mildly unusual, it didn’t seem all to different from the previous cases you had handled.
“They want you down there,” Mike interjects, going straight to the point and not bothering to mince his words, “for six months, shadowing the subject in question, and more generally, to observe and report on the practices of the base and squadron.”
Mike’s gaze holds yours steady, his composure neither cracking nor giving anything away; his trained years as a prosecutor behind him as he watches your face, waiting for tell tale signs of micro expressions as an indication of how you are feeling. You focus on keeping your expression unreadable, despite knowing that Mike sees right through you, observes the equal parts of confusion and irritation which are rising behind your eyes, noting the way your jaw is clenching.
“What about my ongoing cases?” you struggle to keep your tone smooth and even, “I have the market manipulation and insider tradi-”
“You can hand them off to Evans.”
“With all due respect, I’m not handing off of my biggest cases of the year to Evans.” You counter, feelings seeping through, your tone now clearly coloured by a good dose of irritation.
“This isn’t a choice, your name has been submitted and approved by the DOD and DOJ,” he pauses, watching you bristle in your seat, “they want you because of the previous experience you have from looking into those air force cases for them.”
“Mike,” you stare straight at him, not quite knowing what to say, his words washing over you, “it’s not fair,” your tone falters slightly, defeat seeping in.
“It’s good for your career kid,” his tone softens just slightly as he introduces the more familiar term of address into your conversation, “it’s not big and sexy like insider trading or market manipulation, but do this and you earn yourself the credit you want with the DOJ.”
You find yourself chewing down on the inside of your cheek, part in thought, and part to keep your composure from wobbling. As much as you wanted to believe Mike’s words, believed him in fact, because you had worked with him for years, and while the man was an absolute bull dog in the court room, lethal even, he took care of his people, which included you - it was hard, because the easiest way to rise in the ranks, was through the court of public approval and recognition, which as anyone knew, was to get your names on big, landmark cases, both of which the two cases you had been working on for the past one and a half years were.
“I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” You say somewhat defeatedly to which Mike offers you a small smile while leaning his elbows on the table in front of him; he had recognised your acceptance.
“I wouldn’t set you up for failure.”
“When do I start?”
“You fly out day after tomorrow.”
-
“Can I offer you a glass of champagne?” The flight attendant stops by your seat, a tray with a single flute of champagne balanced on her palm, proffered slightly in your general direction.
“Please,” you nod, offering her a brief smile, and she extends the tray closer to you, allowing you to pick the flute off the tray, your fingers meeting cool glass, “thanks.”
“No problem,” you both exchange polite smiles as she moves away and back to the galley, ready to rustle up another glass of champagne for the next passenger.
You take a sip, the cool drink hitting your lips, tongue, sliding down your throat managing to both cool and burn simultaneously. Your phone vibrates, clattering across the wide arm rest of your seat, and you glance down to meet a familiar name flashing across the screen.
“Hey,” the voice of Nick, your boyfriend, crackles across the line, as you put the phone to your ear, “you on the plane?”
“Yeah, it’s still boarding,” you take another sip from the flute of champagne, phone still pressed to your ear, as you turn your head to look out of the window of the plan, towards a sea of blinking lights, green, orange and red, all flashing against the night.
“Hopefully you manage to get some sleep,” he says, and you hear the rustle of papers in the background.
You hum in response, before adding, “hopefully,” you pause, “are you still at work?” You ask, but knowing full well that he was.
“This deal is killing me,” Nick sighs, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get away to see you off, I’ll come down as soon as we get this closed.” You hear the slight tinge of guilt in his voice; something he had tried to make up for by swinging you an upgrade from the original ticket - coach, which you had been offered.
“It’s fine,” you place the glass of champagne down, and bite down on your bottom lip while sinking back down into the seat. You hear a faint background shuffling, and voices, before Nick speaks again.
“Hey, I got to go, text me when you land?”
“Yeah sure.”
“Text me,” you hear Nick’s voice ring over the phone again, clearly already distracted with whatever required his attention, before you are met with a dial tone. You drop your phone into your lap with a soft sigh, head leaning back against the seat rest, eyes fluttering close. You had been seeing Nick for three years at this point after being introduced by mutual friends who had deemed you both as too busy to meet other people. You had both hit it off upon your initial meeting, finding a respite in each other with your matching busy schedules, him in finance, and you with the DOJ. You had a similar enough scope at work to have enough to talk about, and a similar type of lifestyle - work led. Being with Nick, as you had found, worked for you; it was both easy and convenient - akin to having a fuss free, independent companion; someone to take to events, have breakfast, lunches and dinners with, someone to take to bed at night - whether it was to fuck or sleep. It made for a comfortable, non-demanding and easily maintainable relationship - exactly the type you could handle, and needed.
“Good evening ladies and gentleman, this is your captain speaking…” the announcement comes out over the passenger system, and you reach under the nook of the seat in front of you to pull out the folder from your open bag. Life had been manic since Mike had handed you the folder, packing, tying up your open cases, handing them over to the respective persons with instructions - it all hadn’t give you time to breathe, let alone flick open the case which you had been saddled with for the next six months. You turn the page, skimming the first, which told you nothing much, before your fingers flip to the second. Your gaze drops, from the top of the page, down to a black and white image printed on the top right - you take in the man staring straight back at you, a frown on. His jaw square, eyes piercing through your soul, despite it only being a printed image of him on paper. Your brain registers the recognition the instant his photo comes into view, but recognition hits like a truck the second your eyes flicker towards the printed name - Lieutenant Jake Seresin. You blink once, twice, hand coming up to rub your eyes, as if the words on paper would shift to rearrange themselves.
“Fuck,” you say, subconsciously, the single word falling from your lips, clearly and audibly.
“Everything alright?” The same air stewardess stops in mid step beside your seat, mild concern tinging her voice.
“Fine, thanks,” you say, somewhat meekly, forcing your lips into a weak smile. She smiles back, reassuringly, albeit seeming slightly unconvinced before walking away as your mind races back to college.
+++
“Fifty bucks if you manage to fuck her by the end of the night,” you overhear a voice, followed by a series of loud snickers ring out from the kitchen at the end of the hallway. The words are almost barely audible amidst the muffled thrum of music and voices coming from the hall behind you.
“Easiest fifty I’ll ever make,” you step forward, ears straining when you hear the familiar voice of Jake Seresin, the almost blonde with the piercing green eyes you had been talking to, canoodling with even, earlier.
“Fuckin’ Seresin,” an unfamiliar voice calls out, and the group in the kitchen erupts in a drunken cheer, “just imagine her pretty little face begging for more,” the final shout of a sentence earns a series of catcalls from the group as you feel humiliation prickle along the back of your neck, making your hairs stand.
You hear footsteps, indicating the group’s move to shuffle out, and you duck into the bathroom you had been looking for, locking the door behind you and pressing your back against the wooden surface, your chest heaving up and down in a mixture of shock, disappointment, anger and self-pity.
-
“Hey beautiful, where did you go?” You hear a voice in your ear, a hand slip itself to rest on the curve of your waist. You stiffen instantly, before taking a step forward and out of his grasp while whipping around to meet confused green eyes.
“Fuck off,” you snap, your voice and demeanour a stark contrast to that of a mere twenty minutes ago.
“Whoa, whoa, hey, what happened?” You see Jake’s hand move forward as he attempts to reach you again and you pull your arm close to your body, evading his reach.
“I said, fuck, off, Seresin,” you growl, squaring yourself to face him, “can’t understand english you Neanderthal?”
“Well what got your panties in a bunch?” He raises a brow, his tone surprised, but his hand making another attempt to reach forward for your arm.
“I said,” you twist your arm away just as his fingertips graze your skin, “fuck off,” you pause taking a step back “I’m serious.”
You see his brow furrow, and he tries to take a step forward again. Jake opens his mouth to speak at the same time, and you pull your hand back with the courage of being mildly inebriated from cheap beer and vodka swimming inside of you, winding your arm like a spring, before letting it fly forward to connect with the side of his jaw.
+++
You shake your head, emptying your mind free of the thoughts while staring back down at the picture on paper staring right back at you.
-
“You’re giving me a fucking babysitter?” Jake spits out in disbelief as his eyes meet those of the three men, Rear Admiral Jones, Vice Admiral Flanagan, and Admiral Cain sitting across from him, the width of the table in the long meeting room suddenly seeming further than it actually was.
“Not a babysitter, Lieutenant.”
“The Navy cleared me,” Jake pauses, putting force behind his next words, “I’m cleared.” His jaw clenches.
“Think of it as more of a shadow Lieutenant, someone to affirm our decision.”
“To make sure it sticks.”
“It’ll be beneficial for you in the long run if you intend to climb up the ranks Lieutenant, ensure that no one can drag anything out from your past to hinder you.”
Jake keeps his jaw clench, molars pressed together as if his life depended on it, while letting the words wash over him. Frankly, he saw their point, but it didn’t make what they were telling him any easier. The past few months since the failed mission had been a downright nightmare for him. His body had withstood the ejection, miraculously, resulting only in a series of superficial wounds which had long healed, but the same could not be said for his mind and reputation - the nightmares that he hadn’t told anyone about, which woke him up night after night in cold sweat, and while Jake understood and accepted the need for the constant rehashing of the mission and the events that had played out, together with the questioning by various officers and staff in the Navy, it didn’t hurt his heart and mind less, and certainly did no favours for his reputation among his peers, despite him having been cleared of wrongdoing - people talked, and people talked more about disasters.
“She’ll be shadowing you, and observing the practices of the Navy at large over the next 6 months,” Vice Admiral Flanagan takes Jake’s silence as an opportunity to speak , “both you and various others, ourselves included, will be expected to sit down with her for a series of interviews. The DOD expects our, and more notably, your full co-operation.”
“Just so we are clear, what do we mean by shadow?” Jake grits out, knowing already that he would not like the answer.
“Everything you do, she observes; everywhere you go, she goes; you get deployed, she deploys with you.”
“You’re pinning a liability on me,” Jake’s voice rises as he shoots up onto his feet, his boots slamming against the floor, the backs of his knees pushing the chair back, “deploys with me? If she even Navy trained? Air trained?”
“Arrangements have been made for her to undergo the necessary basic training during her time with us.”
“She’s not then,” Jake scoffs, shaking his head, a bitter bark of laughter falling from his lips, “this is some fucking bullshit.” He circles around the chair, intending to leave the room.
“Lieutenant, you have not been dismissed,” the voice of Vice Admiral Flanagan cuts through the air, causing Jake to freeze for a second, “your,” a pause, as he attempts to find the right word, “shadow, will be arriving shortly. We think it best you meet her upon her arrival.”
“And give up my last few minutes of freedom for the next six months?” Jake scoffs, “no thanks.” He picks the back of the chair up, slamming it angrily back and in under the table with a loud clash; it is bordering on insubordination and Jake knows, but he doesn’t care, couldn’t care, in the moment.
“Should I go out and come in five minutes later then?” A voice, female, cuts in, the tone sarcastic, but the words ringing clearly across the room and Jake looks up.
-
Your name, a single word, drops from Jake’s mouth, as you find green eyes locked onto yours, widening in genuine surprise as Jake’s jaw slackens. The brows of the three men behind raise similarly, but less so, in surprise at the familiarity from Jake’s mouth; they don’t however make any further mention or raise questions, not wanting to engage in the unfamiliar any further. You allow yourself to take all of him in, his hair, a brown so light that it is almost blonde, a square jaw, broad body, decked in the khaki’s of the Navy, a white undershirt peeking out, his chest candy proudly on display, showing the world that he is decorated, one of the best of his generation in fact - as you gathered from your perusal of his file. He is older than the last time you had seen him, whether in real life, or through a mutual college friend’s social media post, but he is still, undeniably, as devastatingly handsome as he had been in college.
“Lieutenant,” you say, firm, business like as you stand your ground, refusing to use his name, “shall I come back in five minutes? You sound like you need more time to adjust.” You say, raising a brow slightly, your tone dismissive, tinged with slight disapproval - by design - as you watch Jake’s eyes take their turn to flicker over you, heels, slacks, a top, a jacket draped over your shoulders, and a bag hanging from the crook of your arm - a reminder to everyone that you were here for business. You had left your larger bag outside with the reception to the main building; no point dragging it with you.
“That’s fine, come in, Lieutenant Seresin has adjusted,” the voice of Admiral Cain rings out, cool, imposing, and you see Jake stiffen back up, his shoulders squaring, chest puffing up and fists clenching, the Admiral’s words making it clear that adjusting was not an option, but rather an order. You step in, walking up to the table to stand beside Jake, both of you facing the three seated officers. You place your bag down on the table, making quick work of introducing yourself, first name, last, position, department and who you work for, pausing to allow them to take it all in. You hold the gaze of the three men, while feeling Jake’s gaze fixed on you from the side. It is a well rehearsed speech for you by now after spending a good time with the office of the U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York; something you have learnt to deliver with detachment and a lack of feeling, your tone robotic almost.
“I am instructed that everyone has been briefed on my role,” confirmation of nods in front of you makes you tip your head in return as you maintain the cool professionalism, rattling off a spiel you had used many times before, albeit in a different instance and scenario, “well with that out of the way, let me assure you gentlemen that I am here to assist, both the DOJ, the DOD and the Navy, with presenting the facts as they are. I’ll send around a schedule of interviews which will mainly target the subject, key per-.”
“The subject?” Your head turns to find Jake staring at you incredulously, “that’s what I have been reduced to? The subject”?” He scoffs, an almost snort punctuating the end of his sentence.
“Key personnel, and persons who may be deemed to have insight into the incident at hand,” you continue, picking up from where you left of, your gaze holding Jake’s as you speak, your own mind hyper aware of the little distance between both your faces, with the sides of your arms brushing as you stand side by side, facing the mixed panel of Admirals before you, and faces turned to each other. You turn your head back to face the three before you, suddenly conscious of how you can see the beginnings of stubble on Jake Seresin’s jaw, “I understand the Navy has it’s own schedule for me, so if you could have someone send that over, as well as,” you pause, knowing that your use of the terms would get Jake to bristle once again, “the subject’s schedule, we can mark this six month period as having begun.”
“Someone from my office will send you what you need shortly after this, and you can follow up by circulating your schedule to them,” Vice Admiral Flanagan speaks, to which you nod in thanks, “we’ve arranged for you to live in an apartment on base. It isn’t much, but we trust you will be comfortable.” He ends his sentence by sliding a set of keys across the table towards you.
“Lieutenant Seresin will show you there, he has the one beside you.”
“What?” You hear a growl from Jake, “isn’t Hammer in the apartment beside me?”
“We’ve shifted him,” is the response, short, to the point, which Jake receives, and you can almost feel the irritation and anger radiating off him; you were disrupting his life as he knew it.
-
The sound of your heels clicking against the smooth, polished floors, interspersed with the thud of Jake’s boots echos between you both as you stride out of the meeting room and down the hallway towards the door at the end.
“So,” Jake lets your name roll around his tongue before he picks up the conversation again, “Assistant U.S. Attorney for the Southern District of New York huh?” Jake starts, as you both walk forward. The shift in the corner of your eye tells you that he looks to you as he drops his words. You aren’t certain of his motive, if it was simply to make conversation, out of boredom, or a mind game. His tone is not unkind, mildly conversational but hiding notes of a strain.
You say nothing.
“Done many of these before?” Jake tries again. He was still irritated by the situation, of having to be babysat, shadowed, followed, observed like he was still guilty of something, but seeing a familiar face, no matter how tenuous your relationship in college was, gave him a glimmer of hope.
“Lieutenant,” you finally open your mouth to say, your tone business like, curt, only to be cut off by Jake. His body moves first before he speaks, side stepping out from beside you, blocking yours, you both standing chest to chest, Jake’s frame preventing you from moving forward,
“Are you really going to keep pretending you don’t know me?” Jake’s tone changes as he searches your eyes, blank, guarded, emotionless, not letting anything away. His irritation is now clear from his tone, and he steps forward, forcing you to take steps back until your back is pressed against the left wall that flanks the hallway.
“That fact is irrelevant Lieutenant,” you say simply, cooly, your eyes holding the greens that are boring into yours as your back connects with cement.
“We know each other from college,” Jake speaks, and you can’t help think about how you can smell the faint scent of shower gel, mint, coming from him. Your eyes flicker from his eyes, to his chest as he takes another inch closer to you.
“We were in the same year,” you counter, “that doesn’t make us well acquainted.”
“I would argue we are in fact very well acquainted,” you see his brow quirk up, eyes flash, his mind, like yours, clearly racing back to college, where you had spent every single year, competing with each other for best in class, in year, even - tearing at each others throats, engaged in an unspoken, but widely known competition among your peers to be better than the other, to be the best. You had both ended up graduating with the same class of honours, the exact same GPA down to a T, and with him shipping off to the Navy, and you to law school, your competition had ended in a draw. Jake brings a hand up, his palm coming a flat rest against the wall behind you beside your head, the top half of his body leaning in so that his face is close enough to yours; it makes you clench a fist by your side, your toes curling in your heels, “wouldn’t you?”
There is a crackle of something close to electricity between you both and you let your gaze drop to Jake’s lips, momentarily, because of the distance or lack thereof.
“I wouldn’t,” you manage to get the words while pressing yourself even more back into the wall, despite there being no space else to sink further back into, “you’re in my space Lieutenant.”
“Like how you’ll be in mine for the next six months?” Jake doesn’t budge.
“I didn’t ask for this,” your voice snaps, demeanour breaking, “I would very much rather be anywhere but here,” a pause, before you add for good measure, “I have better things to do than to watch you for the DOD, Seresin.” The use of his last name, and not rank, makes you blink, once, twice, his eyes staring at your face, as if they were finally seeing you, and not just looking at you, after so many years. Jake opens his mouth to speak, but closes it again as you seem him struggle with his words, a type of distraught and helplessness that you cannot place, mixed into his features. It vanishes however, as fast as it had appeared, and he pushes himself off the wall, as you hear mild chatter approaching from the door which you both had come from. You scramble to push yourself back into a stand, as you click your way back into stride alongside Jake, both of you continuing your stride to the exit.
“If it wasn’t clear, I’m as unenthused about this as you are.”
“That much is clear,” you say, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.
“Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours.” Jake drawls, managing to be somewhat condescending, and you grit your teeth.
“Leave me to do my job, and I’ll leave you to do yours.”
-
“Stairs only?” You stand at the foot of the flight of stairs in the apartment block, off the side of the base, your single suitcase beside you, handles of your handbag dangling from your fingertips.
“Stairs only.” Jake confirms from behind you, his arms crossed over his chest, expression clearly amused as he takes you in from behind, eyes darting between your heels and the full sized luggage beside you. He watches as your eyes do a similar dance, glancing from your suitcase to your shoes, and then to the flight of stairs.
“We are on the fourth floor?”
“That’s right darlin,” Jake says, his tone a tad too pleased, feet wide, waiting for you to ask for help. Your head snaps back to look at him with a glare, and you can feel the smugness rolling off him in waves.
You clear your throat, while maneuvering your suitcase to a side, before pushing the extended handle of your suitcase back in.
“Go on then,” you tilt your chin up towards the stairs, and it makes Jake glance towards your suitcase and back at you.
“Leaving that here?”
“I’ll get it up later,” you say dismissively, fully intending to shed your shoes, jacket, roll of your slacks and tie up your hair before coming back down to shift your bags up yourself. Ask Jake Seresin for help - over your dead body.
“If you say so, trouble,” Jake snorts, his nickname for you from college, not passing you without notice, before he takes the steps up. It wasn’t one that liked, something you were sure Jake had given to you entirely in spite, due to your competition of academic powerless making him have to work harder to get what he wanted, to be the best, to beat you.
“4B, this is you,” Jake points towards the door you both have stopped in front of, “need a tour?”
“I got it, thanks,” you say while pulling the keys you had received earlier from your pocket, before sliding it into the lock. You turn the keys and the door opens with a push and a click. You see Jake, from the corner of your eye, opening his mouth as if to speak, before closing it again with a shrug and turn of his heel as he heads towards his own door a few steps away.
“I’m sure you do trouble,” you hear Jake’s voice call out as you step into the apartment and close the door behind you with a thud before turning the lock. You turn to survey the landscape, it isn’t much, basic, a small two seater sofa, worn coffee table, an open kitchen with an island separating the living area, two bar stools flanking the island, and a small nook of a hallway which leads to a bathroom with a shower stall an bedroom with a super single sized bed. You find yourself breathing out as you dump your bag on the floor, before toeing off your heels, luxuriating in the feel of flat ground beneath your feet. The apartment, was simple, basic, but nothing that you had an issue with. It was, in any case, far better than the barracks which you had anticipated yourself being slotted into.
-
You curse, loudly, as you extend a finger under the running spray of water emitting from the shower head. It had been five minutes of you standing stark naked, outside the small shower stall, waiting for the water to warm but to no avail. You had already checked, twice, that the shower knob was turned in the direction labelled with a “H”, even gone as far as to crank the knob towards the maximum it would go, but it had only proved to be a failed endeavour.
You are sweaty from hauling your suitcase up the four flights of stairs, your soles dusty from doing it barefoot, and your skin feeling slightly sticky and run down from the flight and drive to Lemoore. A shower was exactly what you needed, but having to dash in and out of a cold shower was hardly what you wanted. You sigh loudly, the sound echoing off the walls of the small, but empty bathroom, your hands fiddling with the knob again, before you throw them up in a mixture of frustration and defeat. The last thing you wanted was to have to ask Jake Seresin for help, but you were tired, irritated and exhausted, and the last thing you wanted today, after a harrowing few days of ‘pack up, drop everything and leave’, to have to do was douse yourself in ice cold water in an unsatisfying, and potentially un-thorough shower.
-
Jake hears the faint rap of knuckles against his apartment door as he steps out of the shower. He pauses, waiting for a few seconds before it sounds out again.
“Coming,” he yells, while grabbing his towel, drying his body off quickly, before twisting the material around his waist, tucking the ends secure into a fold by his waist. He picks his way out of the bathroom, across the small living room, before pulling open the door just as knuckles rap against the surface again, to find you, hand raised, a faded, oversized shirt from law school hanging over your body, falling slightly past mid thigh. Jake lets his gaze dip towards the end of your shirt, his mind wandering to the question of if you were actually wearing any shorts beneath.
“The shower,” your voice breaks through to his thoughts, and he watches your knees shift towards each other, as you squirm, well aware of his gaze on your skin, “it’s only cold water.” Jake’s gaze snaps back up to your face, just in time to notice that despite your squirming due to his gaze on you, your own eyes trail up from the dip of the towel on his waist, across his abs and chest. He allows a smirk to grow on his face, as he watches you take a step back, your demeanour affected by a slight fluster.
“Ah yes, it’s a finicky one, Hammer’s shower,” he leans against the door frame, arms folded across his chest, body flexing to make his abs pop as you narrow your eyes at him, fighting the urge to look below his neck. He had, after all, offered you a tour of the apartment which you had rejected, and he had let you.
“How do I get hot water?” He sees your stance begin to mirror a less relaxed version of his own as you cross your arms across your own chest, stance wide, the movement, which makes them hem of your shirt ride up slightly, revealing an inch more of flesh.
“Knob needs to be at an exact angle.”
“What?” Your response is quick, but incredulous and slightly confused, much to Jake’s pleasure, “what angle?”
“67 degrees right darlin,” Jake drawls out lazily.
“67 degrees?” Your mutter hits Jake’s ears, clearly astounded by the ridiculousness of it all, “you got to be fucking kidding me.”
Your appearance and reaction, a stark contrast to the one you had presented earlier in the conference room makes a loud bark of laughter fall from Jake’s lips.
“Guess you shouldn’t have turned down my tour huh, trouble?” He asks you, while raising a hand to card through his damp hair, sending droplets of water flying in your direction, causing you to scowl and take a step back. Jake leans his body forward, placing himself close enough to you that you can see the small bead of water sliding down the side of his nose, “but if you beg me now,” he pauses, letting himself take in your features, scrubbed of make up from your earlier appearance, closer to the person he had remembered from college, “I might extend the offer again”.
“Over my dead body,” you hiss, taking a step back to moke your way back to your apartment. You turn your body, your heel pivoting, when you feel a large hand land on your shoulder.
“Alright darlin, don’t need to get yourself twisted, I’ll show you,” Jake drawls, as he feels you lift your shoulder in a shrug with a force, shaking his hand off. He sees you open your mouth, only for you to press your lips together again, drawing your hands tight across your body, stepping towards a side, giving him a wide berth while cocking your head towards your open apartment door.
“Go on.”
“With pleasure,” Jake pushes himself off the door frame, sauntering towards the door, his body brushing against yours along the way.
-
“There, 67 degrees,” Jake twists the knob, pointing to two small etched markings on the wall, “between these two lines on the wall.”
“Great” you mutter, moving away from the shower stall, leaning sideways against the door of the bathroom, allowing Jake a wide berth to make his exit. He steps out, standing to face you front to front, causing you to be hype aware of his bare skin and towel.
“Well go on, give it a whirl,” he tilts his head towards the shower stall.
“I got it,” you say, “you can leave now.”
“You sure about that, trouble?” Jake asks, “the last time you said that caused us to end up here,” he puts two fingers the the bottom of his face, rubbing his jaw in mock thoughtfulness, “I’m not sure you actually know how to operate a shower.”
“I’m good.”
“Still think you should give it a go,” Jake says again.
“Oh, fuck off Seresin,” you take in the smug smirk tilting up a corner of his lip, unable to contain your eye roll; it had been a long day, and if your gut and the feel of the day at Lemoore was anything to go by, the beginnings of a long six months. You had a quick flick through the schedule Vice Admiral Flanagan’s office had sent across to you after you had managed to haul your bags up, to find that you had been scheduled for basic Navy and Air training, something which Mike had warned you about before you had left with a few throwaway lines in your conversation, letting you know that it was meant as a means both for you to observe the conduct of such proceedings, but also to keep you safe during your stint with them; but you had expected one or two classes, for show, not the gruelling physical schedule you were slotted into. You had grabbed a sandwich on your way out from the airport, and all you wanted to do now, was to shower and get some much needed shut eye.
“Still as mouthy as ever, trouble.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“What would you rather me call you, trouble?” Jake asks, not letting go of the nickname.
“Nothing,” you snap, “what happened to stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours?” You ask, quoting his earlier words.
“Might as well make you my new source of entertainment,” Jake muses, “just like in college - things were getting a bit boring around here.”
“Get the fuck out of my apartment Seresin,” you try again, your tone much sharper this time around. It wasn’t professional by any means, given the circumstance that had thrown you both together and each of your roles in the balance, but Jake Seresin, as you had come to learn a long ago, had both the tendency and ability to push your buttons in the worst way.
“Catty aren’t we?” Jake’s grin is wide, as he leans forward to brush a single fingertip beneath your chin, pulling away as fast as he had leaned it. Your brain freezes for a second at the contact, and gesture. His touch had been brief, but the contact felt like fire. Jake turns, before you can get another word out, hand raised and up in a farewell as he strides out of your bathroom, almost strutting his way for the door. You turn to watch the slight ripple and flex in his back muscle as he lowers his hand. The man got on your last nerve and you hated him for it, but god did he have a nice physique. He pauses, standing in the middle of your small, but bare living room, glancing down at the bra lying ontop of your open suitcase, which you had taken off and discarded a moment ago. He turns his head slightly to look back at you, allowing you to catch the glint in his eyes.
“Small tip,” he says conversationally, “you might not want to walk around this place without a bra. It’s a nice sight, I assure you, but you might not like the attention it will bring.”
His words cause you to slouch your shoulders forward involuntarily in attempt to cause your shirt to billow out further in front of you, your face heating at the unwanted attention from Jake Seresin as you swear loudly after him, to which he chuckles, before stepping out of your apartent, shutting the door behind him.
Fuck Jake Seresin.
>>> PART 2
#sparks fly#sparks fly fic#jake seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin x you#jake seresin fic#jake seresin fanfiction#jake seresin fanfic#jake seresin imagine#hangman fanfiction#hangman fanfic#hangman imagine#hangman x reader#hangman x you#hangman x y/n#hangman seresin imagine#hangman seresin#hangman seresin fanfic#hangman seresin fanfiction#hangman seresin x reader#hangman seresin x you#hangman seresin x y/n#hangman fic#top gun hangman#hangman top gun#top gun maverick#top gun fanfic#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine
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For context, I work in a shipping warehouse.
Every time that we book a shipment, a little 1x4” receipt sticker gets generated for each shipping label that looks like this:
Back in 2019, my coworkers and I decided to save these stickers and just stick them all together as we work. See what happens.
So these seemingly innocuous strips of paper slowly built up layer after layer, and we’d sorta beat it on the concrete to increase the density…
After about 2 years of commitment, the result was a masterpiece. A life size replica of Thor’s hammer composed entirely of thermal paper and adhesive. It weighs around 12 lbs and packs quite a wallop.
After this project, we started fresh and created a little time capsule that can be encased in receipt stickers. Progress was slow, employees came and went. I promoted up and now I run the shipping department. Our workflow has changed and we no longer have the time to work on the project while on the clock. But I have continued to save each and every sticker that we generate, and just dumped them in a drawer until I can find the time to get back to work.
This brings us to today.
I’m now on paternity leave! And I made sure to collect the massive sum of stickers before I left.
Here’s where we are so far. I’m thinking this one has big pineapple energy, but I’m really not sure how big it will end up! If you have any suggestions for what it should be, let me know!
#work in progress#weirdcore#weird art#why#passion project#need your help#long post#hobby#I’m getting paid to do this
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