#V LINE CALL OUT!!!! ALERT!!!!
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Our Little Family [Miles Wood]- Chapter 18 Honeymoon
A/N from 👢 anon: Hey guys, here is another little family update. I hope you guys enjoy it. Still having time jumps, and you bet there is smut here. Also, the woods have some important conversations.
Enjoy.
Everything after the wedding was a little crazy, Miles went right back into hockey mode after you guys went to the courthouse to make it official.
Now you're watching from home as his season comes to an end. He's not going to be thrilled once he gets home from the road. That's not how you wanted things to go for him.
You wait for him. Lily's sleep schedule is getting better and better every day. You appreciate that very much. You are watching the news when you hear his keys at the door.
You rush to the door, and as soon Miles open the door, you're holding him in your arms. Miles sighs, feeling your body against his. He hugs you tighter. You play with his hair as you say that you got him.
Miles nods. That's what he needed. You push the door behind you two. You hate seeing him like this. You say that you'll prepare him a bath, and you peck his lips.
Before lacing your fingers, you close the door and move his bag to the side. You lead him to your room. You ask him to sit while you prepare his bath.
“Do you want me to bring Lily ?” You ask him over your shoulder.
“No, not yet.” Miles' voice comes out so low and defeated.
You nod, get the water running in the tub, and grab all the salts and smells. The ones he enjoys. When the water is at a good temperature, you move to grab him.
You strip Miles gently. You're pretty sure he's sore and has a lot of bruises. You watch him move inside the tub. It makes you smile hearing him sigh.
You kiss his cheek, and you move to get up to separate his suit for the dry cleaning. But Miles stops you. He rests his hand on top of yours. You kneel beside the tub, you watch him. You hate seeing your husband like this. It sucks so much. Hopefully, he doesn't mope for too long.
“I don't think I'm ever going to win the cup.” Miles says what he's really thinking. That hurts you more than it hurts him.
“Babe, that's not true. It's going to happen, I know your name is going to be there. I promise you that. And I'm not going anywhere if it doesn't happen.” You show him your rings, which brings a soft smile to his lips.
You peck his lips before letting him have his moment. You move to make sure the bed is comfy and you grab him some underwear.
Miles stays in the tub until you're back. He's disappointed that he couldn't move forward in the playoffs. But seeing you doing everything for him, without asking or saying anything. Just being there for him, means the world to him.
You move to help him get out of the tub. You wait until he dries himself before you give him the underwear. You empty the tub while Miles stares at his reflection in the mirror.
You hug him from behind, kissing his back. Miles rests his hand on top of yours, and you ask him to come to bed. You guys can deal with his beard in the morning.
Miles nods, and you lead both of you to bed. Tonight, you're the big spoon. It's a little hard because he's a big man, but you guys make it work.
Seeing your big, strong man like this breaks your heart, but Miles needs you, and he'll be okay soon. You know that.
The next morning, you take Lily to cuddle her dad. Miles' appreciation for you only grows. Yeah, that's his wife. He stays mopey for a couple of days, and then he's back. He watched every move you made, everything you did for him.
When he's better, he wakes up early. He prepares breakfast and a whole day just for you. Lily will help her daddy. She's having fun with him at home. So chatty, waddling around, keeping him on his toes.
You wake up to Miles, boosting Lily into bed. She calls for you as she crawls to you. You smile seeing your two loves. Miles smiles, holding the tray of food.
“What is this ?” You ask him as Lily settles beside you. You kiss her head after saying hi baby, while you wait for Miles' reply.
“Breakfast for my girl.” Miles replies moving around the bed to place the tray in front of you.
“You didn't have to do this.”
“I did. Now it's my time to take care of you.”
You shake your head, pulling him into a kiss.
Lily giggles seeing you guys kiss. It makes you so happy that she can see you both showing affection and love to each other.
You motion for Miles to sit with you to have breakfast. You feed Lily more than eating yourself, but it's fine.
Miles looks at you with his “I'm sorry” look, but you brush him off, it's fine.
------
You're across the room, talking to Cheryl and Miles' sister during your wedding reception in Massachusettes. You keep feeling his gaze on you.
Miles can't keep his eyes away from you, having you as his wife around the people that he loves, his family and friends makes his heart so happy.
He crossed the room to meet you. Miles rests his hand on your lower back and kisses the side of your head. Your body leans against his touch, needing more. You chuckle, seeing Lily having a hockey player wrapped around her little finger.
Miles follows your gaze and groans a little.
“I'm going to be in trouble when she grows up, aren't I ?” He asks you.
“Yeah, probably. She's your daughter, after all.” You reply with a chuckle.
Miles groans before saying that he needs to steal you, to introduce you to a few people. That's what happens the rest of the day, Miles shows you off. You guys have your first dance in front of everybody, and Lily has her daughter daddy moment too. It makes her so happy.
You're so happy. Being married to a hockey player has its challenges, but so far, it's been the best thing. You and Miles have come a long way together.
Later that night, you're getting ready for bed when Miles show up at the bathroom door, shirtless making you want to jump his bones.
He crosses his arms, watching you go through your skincare routine.
“We leave in the morning.” Miles says, locking eyes with you in the mirror.
“But, I thought we were going to spend more time here.” You're so confused right now, that was the plan at least.
“We are, but you and I, we have a honeymoon to attend to.” You blink a few times before turning to face him.
“What do you mean ? What about Lily ?”
“We're going to the Bahamas for a couple days, mom will take care of her for us.”
“But….”
“Babe, we need a honeymoon. You need a honeymoon. You didn't ask. You were so understandable after our wedding, with the season starting to get harder...” Miles moves closer to you. He laces your fingers together, bringing your hand to kiss.
You watch him with teary eyes. You really thought that a honeymoon wasn't going to be in your plans. And it was okay with you.
“You deserve this, and I promised you I'm going to do anything for you.”
You nod as Miles brings his hand to clean your tears, and then he pulls you into a hug. You just can't believe he's taking time off his training to take you to the Bahamas for your honeymoon.
“What about your training?” You ask against his neck.
“Don't worry about it, I'll find a way.” You nod, hugging him tighter.
“I love you.” you say softly.
“I love you too, sweetheart.”
Next morning, you dropped Lily at Cheryl's. It's hard for you to leave Lily, but you need time with Miles before the season starts. You don't want to get in his way.
So your goodbyes with Lily take a little time, Miles keeps reminding you that Lily is going to be okay and you guys will be back soon, plus if you take too long you guys will miss the flight.
You thank Cheryl again, she assure you that she'll update you guys. While you talk to Cheryl, Miles talks to Lily, saying that mommy and daddy will be back soon. She'll have lots of fun with grandma and grandpa, but they need to do this for Mommy. You ease your mind, and you let Miles lead you to the car.
You are resting your eyes when Miles squeeze your hand. You look at him, Miles says that you guys are there. You nod before looking around.
You guys are at another part of the airport, the private one. You look at Miles a little shocked.
“Are… we… going… private ?” You struggle a little bit to say the words.
“Yep, everything for my wife.”
You squeeze his hand, you don't know what to say right now, your brain is not working properly. This is so new for you. Not only the private jet, but the way Miles is taking care of you during this summer.
Miles gets out of the car, he opens your door and helps you. You smile thanking him. You have a feeling Miles will treat you like a queen for the next few days.
The flight is smooth, as soon as you land, Miles has everything planned. First, you will stop at the hotel for check-in and change clothes, then lunch. The first day is more to settle in.
After lunch, Miles decides that he would like to take a nap with you. You join him but can't sleep, so you just stare at your husband sleeping. Still feels like a dream calling him your husband.
Half an hour later, you decide to go to the pool and enjoy the sun. You leave a note telling him where you went.
Sitting at the pool chair, it's time to relax. You lose yourself in your book, the peace and quiet, the distant waves sounds. It's so peaceful. Then there is a shade blocking your sun, looking up, you see your man in his shorts shirtless. What a view.
Miles hands you a drink before pulling the chair beside you closer. You thank him for the drink with a kiss. That makes him very happy.
“Thank you.” You say to him softly.
“You don't need to thank me for anything, babe.”
You nod, taking a sip from your drink. You stare at him, not really knowing what to say. Life changed so much, and for the better.
Miles smirks at you before leaning in to kiss you, and then he gets up to get into the pool. He knows what he's doing, and you know too. You're not going to complain about it.
You watch Miles swim around. When he comes out of the pool, your panties turn into the pool. Those water drops dripping down his body, the ones in his V line that you want lick it. You squeeze your thighs, turning your gaze back to the book.
“Do you like the view, babe ?” Miles asks as he runs his hands through his wet hair.
You lick your lips before answering.
“Yep, loving it.” Both of you chuckle with your reply.
Miles makes you scotch for him to lay beside you. You rest your head on his chest resting your hand on his abs. Playing with his hair, running your thumb up and down his V line. Miles hums at your touch.
This moment is so peaceful, even if you're turned on right now.
“Babe ?” You bring Miles' attention to you. He looks down with those gorgeous eyes.
“Yeah ?”
“I would like to be fucked and lick that water from your V line.”
Miles smirks as he gets up from the chair, bringing you with him.
“I think we can do something about that.”
That's what you like to hear for sure. You guys rush the room. As soon you ] are inside, you're pushing Miles against the door.
You kiss those lips, right now you just need him. You lick every inch of Miles chest and abs. When you get to his V line, you take your time. You can see that it's driving him insane. His little whines show you that he's going to make you pay later.
Both V lines are taken care of. You lick his happy trail just to hear Miles hiss. And it gives you confidence, a lot of confidence.
You pull his shorts down, smirking at the sound of his cock hitting his abs. Miles whines 'baby' seeing you lick his tip, gathering some pre-cum. You look at Miles as your hand plays with his balls.
Miles is a mess, and you love it. He holds your hair with both of his hands. You lick his length, locking eyes with him. It brings the most primal moan from his throat, and it's the sexiest thing. You take him inside your mouth, and with the help of your hand, you jerk him.
You take him as deep inside your mouth you can, gagging around him. Miles curses as you dig your nails into his thighs for support. You pull back to breathe, but you continue jerking him with your hand.
“I want you to fuck my mouth.” You smirk asking him.
“Are you sure ?”
“Yep.”
Miles closed his eyes. He almost came with your request. He takes a deep breath, he puts his thumb in your mouth, you suck his finger with a pop.
Miles puts his cock back in your mouth as you prepare yourself by holding his thighs. He slowly starts to thrust inside your mouth, with time he starts to speed up and you know he's seeking his high.
You just hold his thighs, your eyes are getting teary, and you're gagging a little bit. Miles grunts that he's going to cum, you swallow as much cum possible. It dribbles a little on the corner of your mouth.
When Miles stops his movements, you pull back to jerk him through his high. You look at him, heaving, breathing against the door all blissful. You smirk when he looks at you with soft eyes.
He helps you get up, he leans to lick the cum from the corner of your mouth before kissing you deep and hard. Miles hums against your lips, your hands rest on his sides.
Miles scoops you up without breaking the kiss. He carries you to bed, placing you gently in the middle of the bed. After placing you in the bed, he just stares with an awe look.
“God, I'm so damn lucky.” He murmurs under his breath.
Your cheeks burn a little bit; that man is really in love with you. Miles licks his lips before connecting them with yours again. Miles' hand wanders over your body. He unties the knot from your bikini top, making you sign into the kiss when his hand reaches for your boobs.
You arch your back so he can take the top off. His weight is so welcomed on top of you.
Miles attacks your neck as you run your fingers through his hair.
“Babyyy” you whine a little. “I'm going to need you to rebound faster, I need to be fucked.” Miles nibble your skin before pulling to face you.
“Angel, you need to be patient. Things don't work that fast.”
You pout, looking at those gorgeous blue eyes. Miles winks as his hand moves to your bikini bottom.
You wiggle trying to help him take your bikini off. Miles chuckles as you pull him for a kiss. Miles starts to explore your body again, he moves a finger to your pussy.
He hums feeling how wet you're for him, he rubs his thumb over your clit and then slides a finger inside you. You moan, it feels so good even if you want his cock.
He pumps that finger in and out. You're a mess under him. Miles makes you cum with his finger, instead of working you through your orgams as soon as he's ready. He's sliding that cock inside you.
You curse, then you adjust, and it's heaven. Miles holds your hands above your head. His thrusts are deep and hard.
“That's what you wanted, babe ?” He asks as he is deep inside you.
You nod because you can't speak right now.
“I need to hear you.” He states.
“OH fuck.” You say at another deep thrust. “Yeah… that's exactly what I wanted.” Miles smirks, slamming his hips against you.
“Good girl.”
That praise does things to you. Your eyes are rolling back inside your head. Miles knows what he's doing, and you knew you were going to pay.
You want to touch him so badly, but he's not letting you touch him. Maybe later. Miles praises you as he goes deeper inside you.
You call his name a few times when your orgasm starts to build up. As much he wants to make you wait, he's not going to. He moves his thumb to rub your clit.
Your orgasm hits hard. You scream his name and get so tight around him that Miles struggles to keep moving. You tell him that you want his cum, that's the motivation he needs. Miles pumps for a couple more minutes before he's giving you all his seeds. You dig your heels on his thick ass to hold him there.
He drops himself on top of you, trying to put most of his weight on the bed. You smile, running your hand through his hair. Miles smiles against your neck.
“That's the best way to start a honeymoon, being dicked down by my husband.” You say out loud.
“Yeah, and we have five days to do that as many times as possible.”
You like that idea a lot. Miles pulls out of you before bringing you on top of him. You stay like that for a while before you need to pee.
You decided to shower while you're in there. You call for him to join you, and that's exactly what Miles does.
You guys have a soft shower together. You guys take turns cleaning each other, Miles lets you take care of his curls,and it makes you so happy. You're on a mission now, taking care of those curls.
Miles dries you gently. You grab one of his big shirts and lay in bed. You and Miles go through the menu to order something to eat.
While you wait for your order, you both call Cheryl to know how your baby is doing. It makes you so soft seeing her face on the screen. She still doesn't understand the screen, so it's a little hard.
Seeing her happy makes you happy. You thank Cheryl again. While Miles go grab the food, you guys talk a little more. Cheryl does everything she can to assure you that things are okay.
You let Miles talk to his mom for a while. After he hangs up, it's time to eat, and you enjoy that a lot.
This is how you want to spend the rest of your life with him. Great sex, better communication, just being together. Miles smiles at you and occasionally steals some kisses.
………
For the next couple of days, you guys have sex in the morning, have breakfast, go sightseeing, nap, pool or ocean, more sex and cuddles. That's life.
By day 3, on your post sex cuddles at night, Miles decides that he needs to talk to you.
You have your head on his chest as he brushes his fingers over your arm.
“Babe…” He calls to you, and it sounds a little distant.
“Yeah ?” You say as you lift your head to look at him.
“I think we need to talk…” Hearing those words makes you hold your breath. You shift to sit.
“Okay.”
Miles can see that you're going through a million scenarios in your head.
“Babe, everything is okay. You can relax.” He squeezes your hand, trying to assure you that things are okay.
“Okay.” You take a deep breath and wait.
“I know, both of us are loving this routine and having as much sex as possible without Lily here. But the last time we did that I used you basically as a cum dump. Lily happened…”
You close your eyes because he's right, but you don't want to stop having sex with him. God knows how long it's going to take for your next time.
“... and I really don't want you to feel bad because I know you're not ready for that. I was an asshole and I don't blame you for not being ready....” Miles lifts your chin to look at him.
“....If and when we have our baby number 2, I want you to have the best pregnancy possible, with all the good moments. The ones that I took from you.”
“Yeah, you're right. I’m not ready, and Lily is so perfect after everything. I want that, too, if it happens. But I don't want to stop having sex. I missed this so badly.” You drop your gaze.
“Hey, we're not going to stop. Maybe just tone it down a little and not look like rabbits.’ You chuckle, bringing Miles in for a kiss.
“I love you, and thanks for looking out for me.” You whisper against his lips.
“I love you too, always, baby.” You both cuddle until you're asleep on his chest.
The next day, you guys do tone it down. Miles takes you for a boat ride with the sunset view and after you guys have dinner at the beach. Having one more day at paradise, you're taking advantage of everything.
On your last day there, you try to have morning sex with Miles. You guys start making out, but it is taking Miles more time than he normally does.
“Babe, I think you broke my cock.” He says with a chuckle against your lips. You cup his cheeks to make him look at you.
“That's not possible, Woody.” You chuckle “Now, answer me this. Do you want to have sex ?”
“Yeah ?” His answer doesn't convince you.
“Miles, for real, are you feeling it ? Are you turned on ? I'm not going to be mad or disappointed, but I need you to be honest with me.”
Miles sighs. “Not really, turned on yes, but I'm not in the mood.”
“Okay, and that's more than okay. You can say no to me, babe.”
His gaze drops. “I don't want to disappoint you.” He mumbles.
“You're not going to disappoint me. The only way you can do that, is by doing a half job just to make me cum. I want you…” you lift his chin to look at you. “... You're worth the wait, dude. I need you fully in and not just going because I want to. You can say no, baby.”
“Thanks…” He kisses you “ And you know you can say no to me too, right ?”
“Yeah, I do.” You kiss him before shifting so he can lay on your boobs.
And that's how you guys spend most of the day. Cuddling, some time in the pool before getting everything ready to head home. You guys leave first thing in the morning.
…..
The trip was amazing, but nothing beats getting home to your baby girl. Even if she wants her dad first, Miles sends his 'I'm sorry' look. But that's okay, you're used to it. You talk to Cheryl and catch up until Lily decides she wants her mama. She calls for you, and you take her with open arms.
Her soft cuddles are the best. It makes you feel more loved than you're already feeling. You hold Miles hand.
“Thank you for our life. Thank you for this amazing gift.” You look at Lily. Miles smiles
“ You don't have to thank me, sweetheart.” He kisses you with all his love.
Things were rough for a while, but the last couple months are the best you ever lived. You can't thank him enough.
#omg never gonna win a cup 🥺#reader being so soft and gentle with him is SO SWEET#flying in styleeee#V LINE CALL OUT!!!! ALERT!!!!#look id be insatiable for that man. I get it reader.#GOOD GIRL. FUCK#IM GONE#tone it down.... wow#the way that man has really changed#I DONT WANT TO DISAPPOINT YOU#SOBBING#OMG#THANK YOU FOR OUR LIFE. STFU OMG#👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻#miles wood x reader#👢 anon#blog submission#miles wood imagine#our little family
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"it'll grow back" - LN
v short. just expressing my sadness for the loss of beard lando </3 it's been a rough day lads
tried a little bit of social media au stuff so lemme know if that works <3
“hey ba-”
“you are in so much trouble,” you announce as he picks up the phone, pacing around the airport waiting for your layover flight to join him in australia.
“wha-? why?” lando says, his voice wavering slightly in panic, trying to remember everything he’d done in the last 24 hours that could anger you.
“how could you? how could you shave before i got to say a proper goodbye?” you whine down the phone, exaggerating your sadness at the loss of his facial hair.
“im sorry ba-”
“no i dont wanna hear it. firstly - i had to find out through twitter! AND my flight lands in 5 hours - you couldn’t wait till then?”
“if i waited you would’ve talked me out of it!” he argues back in jest.
“precisely!” you argue, the phone line falling silent, asides from max laughing in the background, and lando clearly trying to stifle his own giggles.
“max you’re a traitor! you promised me you would stop him,” you say, knowing he can hear you. max says nothing in response, just continues to laugh until he’s wheezing.
the announcement of your flight boarding was probably well timed, alerting you that you need to leave before the argument get serious.
“get on your flight angel, ill be at the airport to pick you up when you land.”
“you better be, you owe me.”
-
when you finally spot him in the airport, your pace quickens to meet him and his embrace. he presses a kiss to the top of your head, his arms moving to rest on and behind your shoulders. your head rolls backwards slightly to look up at him, as sigh escaping your lips when you see the lack of facial hair in person.
“12 seconds!” max exclaims from behind him, holding up his phone timer, “it took you 12 seconds to make a remark about him shaving!”
“hey! i didn’t even say anything,” you argue back.
"debatable."
“it’s ok y/n - it’ll grow back,” lando says, grinning at you before looking down and kissing your lips. the lack of scruff touching your face is unfamiliar.
“but now it feels like i’m kissing a 13 year old boy.” max snorts at your response, lando just keeps smiling down at you.
“when did you last eat?” lando asks, moving the conversation along, as he grabs your suitcase and starts walking to the car, you and max stood either side of him.
“erm, on the first flight - so i don’t know but i am starving.”
“let’s go get you some dinner. i’ll pay, call it an apology.”
“lan, you’d insist on paying whether i was owed an apology or not,” you retort, moving to sit in the car.
“i’ll make it up to you tonight,” he says, smirking at you. you had almost forgotten max was there till he started making fake vomit noises at lando’s comment.
“i’d love to see you try.”
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris smut#lando x reader#lando smut#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#formula 1#mclaren f1#mclaren#lando norris fluff#formula one smut#formula 1 smut#f1 smut#propertyofwicked#f1socialmediaau
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𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧
When Eddie asks you on a date, you don’t believe it. He probably meant as friends, right? Spoiler alert — Eddie wants to be more than friends, and he’s willing to prove it. [4k]
fluff, slight hurt/comfort, fem!reader, plus-sized!reader, reader feels undesirable, kissing, obligatory ‘don’t be cruel’ scene, eddie calls you pretty like ten times, requested here
𓆩❤︎𓆪
Eddie has one of those smiles that screams trouble. Every time he looks at you with that smile he might as well have "I'm gonna break your heart," written across his forehead in tandem.
You sneak a glance at him across the atrium. Eddie’s paused bussing tables to talk to a patron, his customer service voice in play with a matching smile. It isn't the one you mean, but it's bad enough to make you flush red-hot. You cross your arms over the bar, regret it for its stickiness, and let your head rest against the crook of your elbow.
You've been working together for a long time now, almost six months, and he's your favourite coworker hands down. He cleans up after himself, he brings snacks that you never accept (lest you look like the greedy chubby girl you worry everyone expects you to be), and he talks to you like a real person.
It's horrifying and it's not fair, but being fat means that sometimes guys don’t want to look at you. They don't want to be in the same room with you, and you can tell; they avert their eyes, or simply don't talk to you directly.
You've never had that feeling with Eddie. He meets your eyes, unflinching, and he sends you one of those pretty smiles and you think Fuck, because he should've been a movie star, he has the cheekbones for it, or a rockstar like that band he's always raving about. He'd have a slim LA girl on both arms, no doubt about it.
He likely wouldn't waste his time with you.
Not someone pretty as he is. Sometimes he'll lean over and expose the flat stretch of his stomach, his v-lines and the dark trail of hair peeking above his jeans, and you feel acutely miserable 'cause you know you'll never get to touch him. Workplace crushes suck.
"Hey, are you okay?" a voice asks, a hand dropping against your shoulder.
You pull yourself up quickly. Speak of the devil, Eddie stands beside you with his hair tied away from his face. He looks more entertained than concerned, his smile unfortunately genuine.
"I'm fine," you say, stepping back. His hand falls away from your shoulder. "Sorry, just tired."
Eddie leans into your space, squinting. You freeze up, but he's only checking the time on the clock behind you. "Gotta tough it out. Still an hour and a half 'til closing."
Which means there's more than two hours of your shift left. Your face must show how unexciting that is —Eddie laughs, warm and quiet, and gives your hand a squeeze.
"You'll live," he promises. "Are you busy tonight? Maybe we could go get pizza or something."
"What, nobody else is available?" you ask.
His head juts back a touch, put upon shock. "And why can't I ask you? I like you and I like pizza, that's a good combination. And even if you don't like me that much, you like pizza, right?"
You know —you know, you do— that Eddie doesn't mean it as a slight. This isn't some thinly veiled insult on how you look. Why wouldn't you like pizza? Most people do, but his comment twists itself into an evil inky ball in your chest anyways, thick and hot as tar.
You shake it off.
"Who says I don't like you?" you ask, steering the conversation away from food altogether.
His smile gets somehow better, which is to say worse. You're being punished for something, a childhood wrongdoing or a future crime, perhaps. Nothing else could warrant the mental torture that is being so close to him while he looks the way he does.
"Good. Good, then we should get pizza. It's a date," he says, nodding.
Morgan the shift manager calls for him to stop distracting you, though the Hideout is abandoned tonight, and there's nothing to distract you from. Eddie stands at full height, with a soldier's salute. "Yes, sir. No more lollygagging." He turns to you when you laugh, and you share a secret smile.
He and Morgan disappear into the back of house. If you strain your ears, you can hear Eddie complaining about having to keep his hair in a bun, as it's totally against what he stands for, dude, it's stifling his self expression.
"Count yourself lucky I don't make you wear a hair net, kid," Morgan says.
You turn back to your sticky bar, numb. It's a date? Did he mean, like, an actual date? A romantic date?
Not a chance in hell. It's a colloquialism. Nothing more.
Despite yourself, you stare into the silver reflection of a beer tap and try to liven up. You fix your hair, check your teeth, dig a lip balm out of your apron pocket and scratch the corners of your mouth just in case. The entire time you're heckling yourself about delusions. Eddie Munson doesn't like you. He's had a girl come around once or twice, and she'd been everything you're not: slender, confident. You'd wanted to dislike her, but she hadn't done anything wrong. There's no crime in being desirable.
For the remainder of the night, you man the bar and serve the occasional patron. It's a Sunday night, so most stick to light beer or soft drinks. The live entertainment says goodnight and the Hideout empties like an opened floodgate. You clean the bar, Eddie buses the tables, and the kitchen staff turn on the radio and get to work cleaning. Soon, you can smell cigarette smoke and reheated mozzarella sticks.
You wander into the kitchen to help.
"Hi beautiful," Leon says, one of the cooks, "you want something to eat?"
"No she does not!" Eddie says, helping the dishwasher Marcie with her last round of plates. Suds drip down to his rolled sleeves as he waves his hands around. "We're going to get pizza."
"Yes!" Marcie says, delighted.
"Where are we going?" Paul asks, another cook.
"We," Eddie says, pointing at you and then himself, "are going to Marletto's. Yeah?"
You startle when you realise he's asking you. "Oh, sure. Anywhere you want."
His head bobs up and down, pleased. He goes back to his dishes. "Anywhere I want," he murmurs to Marcie, though he's saying it for everybody to hear, "hear that, Marc? I'm spoiled."
You wipe down a few counters, label some leftover iceberg lettuce and put it back in the fridge. It's easy work, made better by the camaraderie of your coworkers, but you can't settle down. Your heart races at what's to come. "It's a date," is starting to feel less colloquial now Eddie's dissuading the other from joining you. That's how that works, right? He wants to be alone with you.
It might not mean anything. Maybe Eddie needs something from you he doesn't want the others to know about, like money. Maybe he wants girl advice, finally chasing that pretty girl who drops by sometimes. Or boy advice —there's a guy who comes around too, tall and blond and handsome.
There's a logical solution. Any other girl would hear the word date and take it at face value, but you aren't them. You're you. You can't remember the last time somebody looked at you with desire in their eyes, if they ever have. High school was a shit show and work isn't exactly a hub for romance. Eddie joining the team here is the most excitement you've ever had in your life, for all his gentle squeezes and teasing elbows, his inside jokes and his tendency to burst into an air guitar solo at any given moment. He's a cheeseball, and you like him. It sucks.
"Hi, are you ready?" he asks, coming out of nowhere. You're kneeling down near the lockers tying your shoelaces.
It is a horrible position for him to see you in. You can't imagine what you look like, but you know it won't be pretty. You spring up with your shoelace untied still and smile weakly. "Yeah, I'm ready."
"You need help with that?" he asks, eyes on your shoe.
You burn with embarrassment. "I– no, I–"
Eddie kneels down on the floor and reaches for your shoe. He ties it quickly in a double-knotted bunny-loop and pats the side of your ankle when he's done. When he looks up at you, you're in the middle of hoping a natural disaster will occur and put you out of your misery.
He smiles at you from his position. Does he ever stop?
"Cool," he says, standing up. He grabs his coat from his locker and doesn't bother closing it. "Let's go! I'm starving, man, Leon needs to mess up more often so I can steal the rejects."
You follow him in a daze. Through the lockers and out of the kitchen, waving goodbye to the lingering closers and a grimacing Morgan. You aren't looking forward to seeing him again tomorrow. You're more than sure he'll have something to say about workplace fraternising and general dawdling.
"You okay for us to take the van?" he asks.
Eddie's given you rides home before, and what felt awkward before has lended itself to a familiarity. You nod your agreement and cross the small parking lot out back, your breath rising in the cold night air.
Eddie pulls open the passenger door of his van with a strong-armed tug.
"Been meaning to get the latch looked at. I'd rather it have trouble opening than trouble closing, though, so that's a plus."
He waits for you to climb the short step and sit before he closes the door.
“All limbs inside the ride?" he asks.
You laugh. It comes out weird. You kind of sound like you're being held at gunpoint.
Eddie gets in the van and makes small talk as he starts the engine and pulls her out of the lot. Your mind isn't there, exactly, or rather it's too close. You want to think about your answers but instead you're worrying about how you look while you say them. You're worried about the seat belt around your stomach, and the way you look from the side. Being around Eddie makes you more self-conscious than usual.
Marletto's isn't the best pizza place in Hawkins but it's open until three AM. You and Eddie take the first empty booth you come across, and the agony of ordering in front of someone else begins.
"Meat feast for me, obviously," he says, pulling off his jacket.
The cracked vinyl seat beneath him crunches with his movement. You dedicate yourself to staying still.
"I'll get a margarita," you say, glancing between him and the menu for his reaction.
"Didn't take you for such a bore," he teases. "Drinks? Sides?"
"Just water will be fine."
"Are you sure? I'm paying. If you wanna take advantage of me, now's the time."
You shake your head, pushing your cold hands under your thighs.
Eddie frowns. "If you're sure…"
He gets up to track down the register. You sit there, wondering why you agreed to this, what possessed you, why you could ever think this was a good idea. You don't wanna eat in front of him, you don't know what to say, he's looking at you like everything's normal but this is so not normal, this is the opposite side of the spectrum.
Eddie returns with your water and a coke, all smiles despite your clear nerves.
He puts the drinks down and clambers into the seat with a leg folded underneath himself, his elbows halfway across the table. He looks you straight in the face.
"That guy just looked at me like I was crazy. I'm hungry, sue me. Three orders of mozzarella sticks is a normal human thing to get, right?"
"Three?" you ask.
His hand reaches toward you. If your hand were there, he'd likely squeeze it roughly as he sometimes does, like a playful scolding. "I'm hungry," he repeats. "I didn't get any lunch on my lunch break. What's the point in that? Just sat down in the locker room thinking about it. It was actually worse than working."
"You should've had Leon make you a burger. He's always offering."
"Always offering you, maybe. The rest of us gotta fend for ourselves."
"That's not true. He asks Marcie, too."
"Yeah, well, Leon's a sucker for pretty girls."
You look down at the table.
"I got enough fries for both of us, I know you didn't want any sides but everyone wants fries. I won't be sharing the mozzarella sticks, so if you want some you better speak now." He raps the table with his knuckles. When you look up, his face softens. "Well, alright. Maybe I'll share them with you. I'm a sucker, too."
"What's that mean?"
"What?"
"You know what," you say.
Eddie crosses his arms across the table. His hands and arms are pale, the ink of his black tattoos stark. You could draw them without prompting, that's how often you've fallen into his trap. When he crosses his arms like this, his biceps bulge up a little bit, emphasising the pretty curves and ridges of his arms and the hints of greeny-blue veins hiding under his skin. He tilts his head toward his shoulder, his limp curls dragging against the table.
"It means…" he says, holding your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips, "that you're pretty. You're so pretty, I'd do anything you asked me to."
You flinch. You pull your numb hands from under your thighs and cover your stomach with your forearms, glaring at the table between you thoughtlessly.
"That's cruel."
"What?"
"That's cruel, Eddie. You're being mean," you mutter.
"I–" Eddie stammers. "What? I'm just trying to tell you how I think about you– how I feel. I'm sorry if you don't wanna hear it, I'm not trying to be mean."
Hurt creeps into the lines of your face, your eyebrows pulled down and the starts pulled up, your lips pursed. Heat bursts in your throat as a molten lump takes shape there. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you have to.
"I thought you were my friend," you say quietly.
"I want to be more than that."
"You're making fun of me."
"No."
Eddie reaches across the table again. There's nothing for him to grab so he spreads his fingers and presses his palm flat. He ducks his head to meet your gaze. His eyes are ridiculously big, the black of his pupils blown and leaching into his dark irises until they're almost indistinguishable in the fuzzy lighting of the restaurant.
"Come on," he says quietly, "when have I ever done that to you? I mess around, but I wouldn't say shit like that unless I meant it." His fingers lift off of the table. "I mean it. I think you're beautiful." His voice takes on a raw quality.
You bite the tip of your tongue, fully frowning now. "I don't believe you," you say.
"Why not?" he asks, frowning back.
"Because I'm– I'm– I'm fat." You hate yourself for saying it out loud.
People hate that word. Usually, if you admit to it, there's a rushed response. No, you're not. Pretty friends talk you down, loved ones wrap an arm around your shoulder and harp about puppy fat or big bones.
Eddie doesn't do either. He sits back in his seat and smiles hesitantly.
"Why's that a bad thing?" he asks. He shakes his head at himself. "I mean– I'm sorry, I should've said you aren't, you aren't–"
"No, I am," you say.
"You're so pretty," he says again, in a rush. "I don't care what size you are, I really don't. I just think you're beautiful and I wanted to ask you on a real date but I saw you and I couldn't wait anymore." He wraps his hand around the neck of his coke bottles and pulls it towards his chest. "Shit, I've made a huge fucking mess of it."
You lean forward. Your body doesn't know what to do, the whiplash of hurt smothered by his enthusiastic, sincere compliments.
Why's that a bad thing? means more than anything else he said to you.
"You really think I'm pretty?" you ask timidly.
"Drop dead," he says. Hope flickers behind his eyes. "Morgan pulled me aside on my second week, you know that? Said if I didn't stop staring at you he'd put me in the back for the week."
"He did put you in the back," you say, confused.
"Exactly."
Oh. You raise your head properly. Eddie's watching you, just you, obviously waiting for you to speak. The hope on his face is clear as day now, his lips parted, the tiniest peek of his tongue on display.
"You promise you aren't messing with me?" you ask finally.
"I promise." He holds his hand out, palm up. "I swear."
Your heart a hummingbird, you take your hand from your waist and put it carefully in his. His fingers curl around yours like a prince, the tip of his thumb rubbing over your knuckles slowly, half an inch at a time. You exhale out of your nose as goosebumps race up your arm.
He looks like he has more to say, but the pizza and all his sides arrive. You spring apart like teenagers, blood rushing in your ears. The server unloads his tray.
"Alright guys," he says, looking down at you both with a knowing smile. "Anything else I can get you while I'm here?"
Eddie sneaks a look at you that holds way too much meaning. "No, I think we're alright."
There's a tiny, awkward silence. You busy yourself with unfolding a napkin over your lap, not sure what to say to bridge the gap.
Eddie takes the plunge.
He slides a basket of mozzarella sticks at you. "Pretty girl privileges," he says.
You feel insecure eating in front of him, but the sheer ferocity of his compliments discourages any shame. He thinks you're pretty. He held your hand like it was made of glass and he got put in Hideout jail for staring.
"I think you're handsome, too," you say.
Eddie almost chokes on a handful of fries. "Shit," he says, swallowing roughly, hand thumping at his chest. "Thank god for that. I mean, of course you do. My devilish good looks are hard to resist."
He's not wrong.
—
Getting put on kitchen duty isn't half as bad as Morgan seems to think it is. Eddie kind of likes it, the noise, the chaos, the heat. Plus, he can steal fries hot and fresh out of the basket. He's only burned himself once.
"What're you in for?" Leon asks him.
"Staring."
"You're a freak, Munson, you know that?"
Eddie shrugs. "If your girlfriend looked like mine, you'd stare too."
"Uh-huh." Leon grabs up a spatula to flip a burger, pink meat down and brown side up. Fat sizzles dangerously. Neither man flinches. "She ain't going nowhere."
"You don't know that. Some rockstar might blaze through here and snap her up. Who would I be to stop her? She should be a trophy wife, she's a stunner."
"Christ," Marcie says from across the room.
"How the fuck can you hear us?" Eddie asks. Over the sound of the overhead spray and the sizzle of the burners, Marcie must have superpowers or something.
"Uh, 'cause you're fucking yelling," she says.
Eddie looks to Leon for some defence, but Leon agrees. "You are super loud."
"You would be too–"
"If I had a girlfriend as pretty as yours," Leon says, audibly grouchy. "I know."
"Don't be jealous that I got there first."
"How is this fair? You get in trouble and I'm the one punished."
Eddie blows a big breath out of the corner of his mouth, one of his shorter curls dancing away from his warm face. Ridiculous. They're all awful, and jealous, and nobody wants him to be happy. "Losers," he mumbles.
He's kidding, mostly. He knows that everyone is actually very happy for the both of you. How could they not be? Eddie's happier than ever and you've turned to mush. It's his favourite thing in the world.
He thought you were pretty before. These days, you're gold dust incarnate. You see him and smile like you've been waiting for him, no more nervousness (which, he found out, was down to a raging crush on him) (he walked on air for days), no more shying away from his touch. Eddie puts a hand on your shoulder and you don't tense; you melt. Butter in the sun.
It's glorious.
And sure, Eddie ends up in the brig a lot. He 'hovers' apparently. So what? He'll say it again, if any of these guys were in his shoes, they'd fall victim to the same compulsion.
He waits for an opportunity to arise, four dinner tickets and a dishwasher disaster, and sneaks away as silently as he can manage, creeping out of the kitchen and to the bar. You're busy pouring a beer and don't notice him until the customer's left and he's wrapping an arm around your waist.
"Eddie," you scold lightly, leaning forward to accommodate his weight against your back, "come on. You might actually lose your job."
"They can't fire me. I'm the best bus boy ever."
You turn your face to look at him. Eddie wants to put you on TV, you look that sweet.
"No, you're awful, you," —Eddie interrupts you, leaning down for a quick chaste kiss— "distract me, and you," —he steals a second— "don't actually bus tables when you should," you finish, disjointed.
He brings his hand to your soft cheek, stroking a badly behaved baby hair back into place. You go lax like he's some kind of quick fix drug, and your eyes contain a tenderness that makes his chest ache. He covers his heart with his hand.
"You're awful," you murmur.
He takes your face into both hands slowly. One cups your cheek, and the other slides behind your ear. He pulls your face forward and down toward his chin, his lips by your ear. You smell amazing. His eyes close on instinct.
"A little. It's not my fault. You're just–"
"So pretty?" you ask. "Yeah, you've told me."
"I have, have I? Have to let me tell you again." He kisses the skin before your ear, more a press of his lips than anything. "You're beautiful," he mouths.
You shiver, but ultimately end up planting your hands against his chest and ushering him away from you.
"Stop it. I mean it! We're in public, at work, and you're gonna mess me up."
"I want to mess you up," he says easily.
"I know you do."
Eddie sighs, agonised, but heeds your warning. "Alright," he says, squeezing your shoulder in goodbye. You smile and squeeze his elbow in return. It's your new thing, silent conversation in fond touches.
He's a couple of feet away when the urge to turn back is too much. He jogs back to your side, gets his hand behind your neck, and kisses you with enough pressure that your lips part underneath his in shock. He adores the side of your neck with his thumb one sweeping stroke at a time, his nose digging sliding against yours as he inches in further, and further. The dizzy pleasure of your lips can't be understated. Eddie fights back a kiss-ruining smile with all he's worth.
"Sorry," he says, pulling back. Your lips shine and you blink, dazed. "Sorry," he says again, leaning in to kiss them dry.
You laugh quietly, a breath against his cheek, and he's a goner, dropping pecks all over your pretty face until you're giggling and sinking into his arms.
"I really am sorry." He punctuates with a kiss under your jaw.
"No," you say breathlessly. Your hand twines loosely in his hair. "You're not."
No, he isn't. He's never felt less sorry for anything in his life.
𓆩❤︎𓆪
thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! If you did, please consider reblogging, it helps more than you know!! <3
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader fluff#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader#stranger things 4#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#stranger things fanfiction#fem!reader#eddie munson x plus sized reader#eddie munson x plus size reader
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Safety First
(AKA: The one where Simon views “the law” as a relative term when it comes to your safety)
Simon “Ghost” Riley x Civilian!Reader
Summary: After a scare involving a break-in at your flat, Simon decides to take extreme measures to ensure your safety—including getting you an illegal firearm and teaching you how to use it. What he doesn’t expect is just how turned on he is by watching you shoot it.
Warnings: potential break-in scenario described, protective Simon to the rescue, use of a firearm, descriptive use of firearm, smut (I promise there is a plot here though it just….devolved into smut because I have no self control), P in V, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, sliiiiiiight breeding kink, praise kink (really exposed myself with the number of “good girls” here👀), no mask Simon because civilian life, mate 😌
A/N: I had a lot of fun with this. It just seems so very “Simon” to me. He would have exactly 1 (one) incident where he gets scared shitless that something has happened to you, and he would pull every last goddamn string necessary to get your trained up on a handgun to make sure you can defend yourself always, even when he’s not there. Personal firearms are very much illegal in the UK but you can’t tell me the 141 boys aren’t packing at home. Simon Riley?? Leaving weapons behind?? Be so fucking for real.
Your grip on the shopping falters, nearly dropping the heavy container of milk. Your body freezes as you take in the sight before you, immediately on high alert. The front door stands ajar.
Someone’s broke in, your anxieties speak for themself. Images flash in your mind at a rapid pace, escalating in concern: men ransacking through your things, hiding out, waiting for you, strong foreign hands on your body—your shaking hands have your boyfriend’s number dialed before your imagination dares to unfold any further. You drop the shop bags on the floor, backing away from the door and down the hall of your complex.
“Hey—“ the deep familiar baritone is immediately cut off by your sobs.
“Si-Simon?” You choke out his name between your gasping breaths. You try to steel yourself, but the tears have already started.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Simon’s voice instantly hardens, shifting to one of action.
The tears are relentless now, and you try to force them at bay to respond.
“Answer me, love, are you hurt?” Simon’s voice raises ever so slightly in pitch.
“N-not hurt,” you gasp out. “It’s my flat. The door’s open. I know I locked it—at least I think I locked it, I went to the shop, I needed more milk, remember? I was only out for a bit—“
“Breathe, babe. Breathe.” You can hear the jingle of keys in the background of the call. “Listen to me very carefully, love. You turn around right now and get back in your car. Lock the doors. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right there.”
You sniff, thankful the tears seem to have finally subsided. You’re already put slightly more at ease knowing Simon is on his way. “Okay,” your voice waivers. “I can do that.”
“‘Course you can. Now stay on the line with me until you get to your car.” You hear his car door slam in the background.
__________________
Simon turns the 20 minute drive to 7.
His sharp tap on your window startles you, sending your heart racing once again.
“Stay ‘ere, love. Be right back.” Simon’s voice is muffled through the window, but you nod in response.
Simon makes his way up the stairs to your flat, pulling his concealed weapon to his side and subtly shifting the safety off. The heavy weight of the cold metal is familiar as he cocks the weapon, preparing for a sweep. The motion is as natural as breathing for him. He gently toes open the door, immediately pulling his weapon at attention as he scans the room for threats. “Clear” Simon thinks to himself. Some habits are too deeply engrained.
He makes his way through your flat, thoroughly checking for anything amiss. Once he’s satisfied that everything looks clear, he disarms the weapon, clearing the loaded round from the chamber and clicking the safety back on. The gun gets tucked back safely against his body, concealed from sight as he makes his way back out to your car.
Simon gives you a brief nod, signaling all was clear. At that sign, you fling the car door open and throw yourself out of the car, instinctually trusting those strong arms to catch you.
The moment your face is buried in the broad expanse of his chest, his familiar scent hitting you like a freight train, the tears well up once more.
“S-sorry, I was just so freaked out,” you stutter, unsure if Simon could even understand you with your face pressed against him, but unwilling to untangle yourself even a bit.
“Shh, it’s alright swee’art,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his hand rubs soothing circles on your back. “I scoped out the whole place. It’s clean.”
He could feel the relief in your body as you took in his words.
“You sure you locked the place up, babe?” Simon treads lightly, not wanting to upset you further. “It didn’t look like anybody had been in. Could’ve just been a draft knocking the door open if it wasn’t shut and lcked properly.”
You pulled your head back from Simon’s chest, fumbling with the edge of your jumper to gently wipe the tears and snot from your face, sniffling.
“I’m sure I locked it.” You pause for a moment. Well, at least you think you’re sure. You think back to when you left your flat, hands juggling your keys, your purse, distracted by your neighbor and his adorably fluffy Pomeranian who were leaving at the same time. Mr. Darcy immediately demanded your attention, of course, and who were you to deny him all the fluff-filled pets his heart desired? Embarrassment curdles in your stomach, a heat creeping up into your cheeks.
“Well, maybe not absolutely sure…” you correct yourself. “I think I did, but Mr. Darcy was out, and I got distracted, and I just needed some milk for my tea, and I—“
Simon took you back in his arms, cutting off your monologue. “Ahh, Mr. Darcy, you said?” He knows your fondness for the small Pomeranian well, especially after the last time you dog sat for them and insisted Simon make friends with the blasted pup. “That would explain it.”
“I’m sorry if I overreacted,” you sigh, shame replacing the fear. “I shouldn’t have called you.”
“Oi-“ Simon is quick to cut you off. His strong hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “You did the exact right thing. Any time something feels off, got a bad feeling from some bloke at the pub, walking out by yourself in the dark, I don’t care what it is or when it is—you call me. Understood?”
“Understood.” You sniffle once more.
“Let’s get back inside and get you that cuppa,” Simon soothes, one hand pressed to the small of your back as he guides you back inside your flat. He stops to grab the forgotten shop bags off the floor with one hand.
__________________
You two are getting ready for bed, having convinced Simon to spend the night—not that it took much convincing. Simon watches as you parade around the bedroom in one of his oversized t-shirts, toothbrush in your mouth as you walked around getting ready for bed. It’s in these little moments he realizes how truly in deep he is. He’d give his left fucking arm to have this view daily.
“Thanks for coming to my rescue today,” you quip, exiting the bathroom and sliding into bed next to him. “And for agreeing to stay the night.”
“‘Course, love.” Simon opens his arm and lets you get into your designated spot, head on his chest, leg tangled over his, hand resting on his stomach. “Woulda probably stayed the night anyways.”
“Yeah, but still…” you let out a sigh as you settle in, curving your body against his. The warmth of his body heat warms your chilled frame.
“I was so scared.” Your voice is a whisper in the dark. “I just kept imagining the worst possible scenario. What if I was home? Alone? And someone did break in? What if you weren’t here? What if you were overseas?” Your breath hitches and your heart rate picks up again. Simon resumes rubbing soothing circles across your back.
“I just felt so helpless. So defenseless.”
“You’re okay.” His voice was low, steady. “Everything worked out okay. You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe.”
Between the repetitive soothing motion of Simon’s strong hand against your back and the steady rhythm of Simon’s heartbeat, sleep soon found you despite your fears.
As your breaths evened out, Simon’s own mind starts swirling with dark thoughts. The what if’s find purchase in his brain and he subconsciously pulls your sleeping form even closer to him.
You were right, of course. He couldn’t always be here. He had to find some way to make sure you could take care of yourself, to make sure you could defend yourself. He had to know you were always taken care of, no matter where he was.
Of course he had already walked you through the basics of self defense. You had a decent right hook, and he more than appreciated the opportunity to teach you a few other moves that had the two of you sprawled on the floor of your sitting room, sofa pushed up against the wall to create enough space. If his memory served him correctly, that particular little sparring session had resulted in an entirely different from of…wrestling.
But none of it was enough to put his mind at ease. Simon knows that if someone truly meant to do you harm, someone from his line of work…all the moves in the world wouldn’t help you. He wouldn’t want you getting close enough for that kind of combat anyways.There was only one thing that could make him feel even a modicum of peace.
Simon was going to teach you to shoot.
______________
That weekend, Simon woke you up bright and early, claiming to have a surprise date for you.
“Oooh, what is it?” You’re nearly bouncing with excitement in the kitchen chair as Simon hands you your breakfast.
“If I told you, wouldn’t be much of a surprise, now would it?”
“Fair point,” you mumble around a mouth full of toast.
“Let’s just say it’ll make us both feel better.” Simon takes a sip from his mug.
__________________
You gazed out the window, the rising sun casting the military base in a warm glow. Simon had never brought you here before, had always hidden this part of his life away from you. You try to drink in as much detail as you can, driven by curiosity at this mysterious part of his life.
Simon pulls the car as close to the shooting range as he could. Despite the base being mostly deserted this weekend, he was still taking every precaution necessary to ensure he was limiting your exposure to this area of his life as much as he could.
With the car parked, Simon makes his way to your side of the car, his large, protective form shielding you from any prying eyes. He feels particularly exposed without his mask, but it’s a short walk to the range and he trusts that Price has held up his end of the bargain to keep this particular area abandoned this morning. His hand finds its way to the small of your back and guides you inside the range.
The smell of gunpowder immediately filled your nostrils. There was always a lingering scent on Simon when he came home, but nothing quite as affronting as this.
As promised, the range was completely cleared out, and Simon made a mental note to personally thank Price for his help.
“What’re we doing here, Si?” Your voice piqued with curiosity.
“Well, we’re teaching you how to shoot, o’ course.”
“But why? It’s not like I’d ever have access to anything like that. S’not legal.”
“About that.” Simon made his way to an area of the range that housed the standard weapons that were available for practice. He trusted that Price followed through on one other crucial part of this deal.
Sure enough, a small compact handgun was nestled amongst the other array of firearms.
Simon grabbed it, testing its weight in his hand before making his way back to you.
“Listen to me very carefully, love,” his tone shifted, dripping with sincerity, and a touch of his natural commanding energy.
You immediately sober up, looking at him with your full attention as if to show how good a listener you were.
“This is for emergencies only. It stays hidden always. No one knows you have this. No one knows this even exists. It’s very important you understand that.”
“But how did you—? Should I even—?”
“Mm-no questions. Just—“ Simon lets out an exasperated sigh.
“Just trust me. I need to make sure you’re safe. ‘Specially after that little scare earlier this week.”
You nod your head solemnly. “I understand, Si.”
“Good. Then let’s get after it.”
He guides you over to a stall and places your gun on the countertop as you assess your surroundings. There’s five lanes in this section of the range, each separated by stalls with an open range ahead. You can make out five faux targets at the end of the lane, but they seem impossibly far. Surely no-one can actually make that shot, you think to yourself. You’re pulled from your thoughts as Ghost steps up to you and places a pair of bulky earmuffs over your head. “These’ll help protect your ears while we practice,” he says as he adjusts them to fit snugly against your ears.
“Don’t you need some?” Your voice is raised to compensate for your dulled auditory senses.
Simon chuckles in response. “I’ll be alright. M’used to it.”
“Now go pick it up,” he gestures towards the gun. “Safety’s on so don’t worry. It won’t bite.”
Reality sinks in as you step forward and reach for the weapon. It’s lighter than you expected, but there’s a heftiness there that doesn’t have anything to do with the weight of the object itself. You test the feel of it in your hand, mimicking what you’ve seen in movies.
“Good,” Ghost murmurs, stepping up behind you. He’s close enough now that you can feel him pressing up against your back. Two strong arms encase your frame as he leans forward and places his hands over yours. His large hands manage to make the weapon, and your hands, look even smaller. “Hold it like this.” He adjusts your grip just slightly. “Atta girl.”
His thumb guides your own along the edge of the handle until you reach a firm button on the side. “Here’s the safety. You can tell it’s on when this red button is sticking out. See that, yeah?”
You nod your head but it’s taking every ounce of energy you have to focus on his words and not the feeling of Simon’s hard body pressed against your back, his hot breath sending a chill down your neck, and the look of his large hands dwarfing your own—
“Oi. Pay attention. This is important.”
You mentally scold yourself and refocus, adjusting your grip. “Okay, so the safety’s on?”
“Yes. Press it in to turn it off.” You do as he says, the click instantly elevating your senses. Did the gun get heavier?
“Now, pull back the top like this to,” he motions pulling back the barrel. “That’ll load the bullet into the chamber. It should already have a round in there, but we’ll get you some more ammo before we leave. Go ahead, cock it.”
You can’t help the snort that escapes you. “Cock it, eh?” You turn your head to waggle your eyebrows at him.
“Behave,” Simon warns, turning your chin to face forward.
It takes more power than you expected to pull the barrel back, but the reaffirming click lets you know that something did indeed happen inside.
“Alright, she’s loaded now.”
“Okay…” you hesitate, waiting for further instructions. “Now what?”
“Now you point and shoot.”
“At what?”
“See that fella at the end there? Aim for his head.” Simon gestures to the paper dummy hanging at the end of the alley.
“All the way down there? There’s no way anybody could hit that!” You protest.
Simon sighs, resigned, and flicks a small toggle on the countertop, triggering the electric pulley system that pulls the paper dummy closer to you, stopping it about halfway down the track.
“Better?”
“Only one way to find out,” you mutter, adjusting your position and taking aim.
With a centering inhale, you close one eye, aim as best you can, and pull the trigger.
The shot rings out louder than you thought possible, even with the ear protection. The force of the shot thrusts you backwards into Simon’s sturdy frame. Gun powder fills your nostrils even stronger than before. Your heart races as you look ahead to see…
You’ve miss the target completely.
“S’alright, love, wasn’t too terrible for your first shot,” Simon consoles.
“Here, move your foot,” he gently taps the inside of your foot with his toes, and you spread into a wider stance. “Good, now straighten up those shoulders. Don’t worry about cocking it yet, let’s get the position right.”
You do as he says, pulling the gun up once more to eye level.
“Give your elbows a bit more bend. You want to hold it tight, but be loose enough for the recoil so it won’t knock you on your arse.”
“How’s that?” You ask, loosening your shoulders and relaxing your arms just slightly.
“Looks good to me. Go ahead and cock ‘er.”
You pull the barrel once more and ready yourself to take another shot.
“Deep breathe,” Simon reminds you. “Now I want you to keep both eyes open, and look at where you’re directing your shot. You want to aim just slightly above your target. Gravity will pull the bullet down a bit from this distance.”
You try your best to keep all these factors in your mind as you take your aim.
A deep inhale and you brace yourself as you pull the trigger.
This time you have a better idea of what to expect, and you move your upper body with the recoil, feeling more stable.
“Did I do it? Did I hit it?” The excitement radiates in your voice as you eagerly lean over the table to get a better look.
Simon can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, so at odds with what he usually sees in this environment. “Let’s take a look,” he says as he presses the toggle and the motorized target moves closer. As it gets within range you see a clear, definitive hole in his upper right chest. “I got him!” You exclaim, jumping up and down.
“Easy there, love,” Simon scolds halfheartedly as he leans over you and clicks the safety into place.
You set the gun on the counter and turn to throw your hands around Simon’s neck, laughing. “I did it, Si!”
You laughter is contagious and Simon’s own chuckle is music to your ears as his strong arms lift you up on your tiptoes. “Yeah, you sure did, babe.”
And then his lips are on yours, his kiss hot and passionate, setting your body ablaze. He deepens the kiss for a final moment before setting you back on your feet and pulling away, leaving you breathless.
“Damn,” the curse falls from your lips as you try to catch your breath, feeling just a tad lightheaded.
“Right,” Simon clears his throat, trying to get the run of himself once more. He not-so-subtly adjusts his trousers bringing a satisfying smirk to your lips before turning you back around.
“Let’s get some more practice in.” His voice is resolute, but the bulging erection currently pressing into your backside says differently as he sends the target back to the middle of the range.
You pick up the gun once more, already feeling more comfortable with it, and adjust your stance to set up for another shot. Simon reaches up and corrects your aim just slightly, and you take the opportunity to lean back into him, ass rubbing against his hardened cock.
“I said behave,” Simon groans aloud, but you can feel his hips thrust ever so slightly in response.
You fire off another shot, reloading and firing two more times. The thrill of each shot sends a jolt of electricity through you. You feel in control. Not helpless. Not defenseless. No, you feel…powerful.
Simon swears his cock couldn’t get any harder. He had brought you here with the express purpose of teaching you to defend yourself when he wasn’t there. How could he possibly have anticipated just how fucking turned on he’d get watching you fire that weapon.
Your confidence grows with each shot, your stance already self-assured. You look like a badass. And right now, it is taking every last goddamn bit of strength and willpower for Simon to stop himself from taking you right then and there.
Finally, the gun gives a satisfying click, signifying the end of your rounds.
“Phew,” you exhale with a chuckle. “That was an absolute thrill.” Clicking the safety back in place, you set the gun down and turn to face Simon.
The wide smile on your face, bright as the morning sun, it takes his breath away. He can’t hold back a second longer. His lips crash against yours, large hands settling on your hips, pushing you back against the countertop. He doesn’t dare break the kiss as his meaty hands slide down to your ass, squeezing the supple flesh before lifting you up with a grunt to set you on the countertop.
“Si!” Your exclamations drown in another breath-stealing kiss as Simon slots himself between your legs.
Simon bites back a groan as he grinds his erection against your core, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.
Deft fingers undo the button on your jeans and you lift your hips up, allowing him to pull down your trousers and knickers in one swoop.
You let out a hiss as the cool countertop meets your bare ass, but the sensation is lost among more exciting sensations as Simon gets on his knees before you. Thank god for his height—even with you seated on the countertop he’s at the perfect height.
“Bloody perfection,” Simon eyes your bare cunt, eyes full of wanton need.
His comment brings heat to your cheek, intensified by his playful nips and kisses placed along your inner thighs.
He kisses higher and higher, exciting you with every soft kiss, before skipping right over where you truly need him, moving to the other thigh.
You let out an exasperated groan. “Quit teasing, Si.”
His brown eyes shoot to yours, giving you a look—how dare you order him around. He has half a mind to punish you right here and now, but the scent of your dripping cunt hits his nose and his mouth waters on instinct. He places one more kiss to your thigh before acquiescing and a moving to your core.
Words escape you as he laps at your heat, eating like a man starved. Fingers tangle in his dark blonde locks, hips rising off the cool countertop to meet him.
Simon’s strong hands slide up your legs, gripping your hips and forcing you back down on the counter, tongue driving deeper between your folds, relishing in your gasps of pleasure.
His tongue slides up your sweet folds, savoring every drop, until he reaches your puffy clit. This is when Simon slows it down, takes his time. His tongue swirls around your clit, sending shivers up your spine. He continues teasing you like this, your legs shaking until you’re not sure how much more you can take.
His eyes are wide open, locked on your squirming form. While shooting that firearm gave you a sense of power, this is what gives Simon his sense of power—watching you come undone by him, his tongue, his actions alone sending you into this frenzied state. His right hand slides from your hip to your inner thigh before sliding inside you. He curls his fingers expertly, hitting that spongey spot inside you, making you see stars. He takes your clit into his moth, suckling at the swollen nub, fingers fucking you hard, preparing you for his cock. He releases your clit with an audible pop, his voice breathy and low.
“You’re gonna come for me right now. Just like this. On my fingers. Understood?”
You’re past caring. You’re past words. But somehow you manage out a breathy “Yes, yes, Si, just let me— I’m gonna—“ his tongue is back on your clit and his fingers hitting that spot just so and you’re toppling over the edge, body going rigid. Simon’s tongue is incessant, lapping up every drop of juice that spills from your sweet cunt, prolonging your orgasm with every nip and suckle until you’re bucking up against him.
“Too sensitive, Si,” you mumble, lost in the haze of your orgasm.
“That’s just how I like you swee’heart.” Simon stands up and undoes his belt, freeing his cock from its restraints. You crack your eyes open to see him wrap a fist around his cock, giving his member a few rough tugs, rolling back the skin to expose the deep red shade at the tip of his cock, already leaking precum. You bite your bottom lip as you let out a moan.
“Now you gonna take my cock like a good girl?” Simon smirks down on you, making eye contact as his fist slides languidly up and down his cock.
You nod fervently.
“Good girl, just what I like to hear.” With that, he notches his cock at your opening, looking to you for one final nod of approval before he starts inching inside.
You gasp at the intrusion, but Simon’s groans are nearly pained.
“Fucking hell, babe, you’re so fucking tight.”
You can only whimper in response, still lost in the post-orgasm bliss.
“Shit,” Simon mutters under his breath. “Gotta relax, love,” he presses one hand against your abdomen. “Relax for me. You can take it. I know you can.”
Simon’s mumbles even more praises, each good girl blurring into one another, lulling you, relaxing you. With a final grunt, Simon thrusts in to the hilt, filling you completely.
“That’s my fucking girl,” Simon growls, pulling out to the tip and thrusting back into you. “Ya always take me so well, so fucking well.”
His thrusts are deep, steady, his thick arms holding your body in place while his hips drive home. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room, punctuated by your moans, and Simon swears he’s never been so thankful for Price’s little favors in his entire goddamn life.
“Si…” you cry out, already feeling that familiar tightening in your stomach. Simon is already two steps ahead of you—he recognizes that tell-tale tightening of your cunt, that change in pitch as your breathy moans increase. Simon slides one hand from your hip down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles.
“C’mon sweet girl, my good, sweet girl,” Simon’s hips move faster, cock thrusting into you with reckless abandon as he teeters on the edge. “Gonna come all over this fat fucking cock, yeah? Gonna let me fill you with every last drop of me, huh?” Simon’s words bordered on nonsense at this point, lost in the haze of pleasure.
“Need it, Si,” you gasp. “Need to—gonna—can I—“
“Yes,” Simon growls low. It sends you over the edge, your entire body goes rigid as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.
“That’s my girl, good girl,” Simon coos, working you through your orgasm. His thumb doesn’t leave your puffy clit until your body is jerking against him, overstimulated and worn out.
“You’re such a good girl coming undone for me, love,” Simon murmurs, pressing a kiss to your damp temple.
You’re barely floating back to reality, but you know he hasn’t finished yet. “Need you, Si,” you moan. “Need you to fill me up…please?” You’re downright pitiful about it, but Simon swears it makes him cock even harder.
“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Simon adjusts your hips in both holds, holding you steady as he pounds into your swollen pussy. “Fuck,” he groans, eyes rolling back. “Not gonna last long like this.” Simon loses all sense of rhythm as he pounds into you with abandon, searching for his end. “Fuck, I’m coming—“ Simon finishes with a growl, hips giving one final hard thrust before his warm seed start to flood you. Simon holds you close as he finishes, panting hard, forehead pressed to yours.
You reflexively tighten your core, causing Simon to inhale sharply, beyond sensitive.
“Fuck,” Simon curses, his breath still coming in pants as he tries to slow his heart rate. “You’re bloody perfect.”
You chuckle in response, flushed from the thrill and excitement. “You’re just saying that because it turns out I’m a decent shot.”
Simon smiles softly before nuzzling his head in your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin there.
“Something like that, love.”
#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x you#ghost x reader#ghost x you#simon riley imagine#simon “ghost” Riley x reader
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naked
DATE: JANUARY 8, 2023
summary: nathan drake was a tease to say the least. you couldn’t focus on work or chores with his constant sex appeal surrounding you. but a completely naked and nonchalant nathan drake, was an even bigger one.
request: please read the request as an additional summary!
words: 3.2k
warnings: SMUT (implied consent, praise kink, playful spanking and exhibitionism if you squint, dirty talk [slight degradation kink], kind of breeding kink, and unprotected sex) language, and very fluffy at the end :)
note: first nathan fic… this was supposed to be just smut, but i made the ending really fluffy and cute 😌 (the amount of times i’ve watched this gif is unholy)
—
Nathan Drake would be the death of you.
He was charming, with a hint of cockiness to always keep you on your toes. His smile lit up every room he waltzed in, which you hated to admit made your heart flutter.
During the many dangerous attempts at trying to find the forbidden gold, you two really connected. For the first few missions, you were always on high-alert as your trust balanced on a fine line. He could’ve ditched you at any minute and left you stranded to fend for yourself. But Nathan wasn’t like that. He stuck by your side and saved your life more than you could ever thank him enough for.
Yes, he’s lied and undergone deception, but it was all for the greater good. You were his greater good. If he never finds the gold, he knows that he hit the jackpot with you. Even if you didn’t know it.
Taking that next step in your relationship was the best idea you both have ever had. You loved Nathan for all that he was— except for one thing; a teaser. Nathan Drake was the biggest teaser ever.
A shirtless Nate strides around arrogantly nearly every day, making you swallow thickly when you gaze at his body a little too long. Sometimes, he’ll flex on purpose while you’re trying to focus on work. Or he’ll be handsy while doing day-to-day chores.
Nate loved that he had such a grasp on you. Today, he used that to his advantage.
He steps out of the steaming shower, barely dried with a towel around his waist. He doesn’t try to secure it as he walks out into the lounge area where you’re reading on the couch with a mug in hand.
You take a glimpse at him when he comes into frame and nearly choke on your coffee. You’ve seen his body countless times, but the sight will never fail to amaze you. Water droplets drip over his chiseled abs, sinking down his V-line and absorbing in his towel. He licks his bottom lip in amusement at your stare, waltzing past you and into the kitchen.
You roll your eyes and resume back to your reading that was nowhere near as interesting as Nathan’s body. You bet you could study an entire course about his structure, and you would excel with an A+. But that would be cheating because you knew his body like the back of your hand.
You knew that he loved to have his back scratched, nails digging into his skin until crescent moon marks appeared. He loved when you moaned his name, specifically screaming it. And Nathan loved when you fawned over his body. His body full of muscle was a temple you worshiped when he had his way with you. You loved praising him because everything you said was true.
Your mind flashes back to last night and all the previous nights where he fucked you into oblivion. You wished it was always that easy to have sex with him, but he always had to make it difficult to get what you wanted.
Typical Nathan.
Once your coffee jolts your system awake, you decide to do a bit of cleaning to get your mind out of the gutter. You call Nathan over to help you with the dishwasher, hoping he’s clothed. When he comes back into the kitchen, however, he’s still not dressed, even though it’s been hours since he took a shower. Actually, he’s less dressed than earlier. He’s wearing nothing but his birthday suit when he smiles at you softly, charm and fake-innocence floating around him.
Bastard.
You try not to avert your eyes down to his prominent member, knowing it will inflate his already massive ego if you stutter your words.
“I need you to help me with the dishes,” You state curtly, jaw slacking while you glare directly into his brown orbs. They’re filled with mischief and lust, positive he’s at least semi-hard. “You wash.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Nathan’s cheeks crinkle into a toothy smile, walking over to you. His hands cradle your face before he gives you a tender kiss on your forehead. Your clit throbs in time with the rapid beating of your heart. Arousal drips subtly from your cunt and into your panties.
He knows how much you love forehead kisses. God damn him.
He gets started on the dishes, handing you the cleaned items quickly. You bend down to slot them into their places in the washer, falling behind his quick pace. Once he finishes, he smirks at your position; bent over and vulnerable in a thin pair of cotton shorts. His cock pulsates at the view of your curves as you focus on the task in front of you. It was almost too easy.
“Need help, baby?” Nathan’s hands slide over your waist as his body hovers behind you. You inhale sharply at the feeling of him so close to you, causing you to freeze in place. He drags his palms to your hips, caressing the clothed skin teasingly. His thumbs are rubbing the top of your ass, wishing he would spread you open already. You bit your tongue before deciding that you can play this game too.
“I’m good,” After slotting a plate, you raise up and grab another. You purposely lean back into him, causing your ass to grind against his bare cock. Nathan is thick and solid, at his full size now that he’s fully hard. You try not to be affected by the tiny touch. He quietly hisses under his breath and you smirk as you move yourself in triumph. His fingers never leave your hips.
“You’re paying for that,” He squeezes your supple curves warningly and then lightly slaps your ass before waltzing away. You gasp, nearly dropping the plate. The dishes are disorganized and dislocated when you finish, too distracted by the Greek God strolling around the house.
—
Nathan didn’t stop there. He continued to help with house chores while being completely naked. He got handsy and he teased you to the brim. If you tried to reach for something up high, he would lift you by your hips and then slide his hands up your body when bringing you down. His minimal actions made you weak, but left you wanting more every time he walked away.
You took a deep breath before joining your zoom meeting. Even when Nathan was intervening in your thoughts, you still had work to do.
Nathan glances at your crinkled eyebrows as you concentrate on your computer screen. A monotone voice gives instructions while you nod along to his words. Nate loved watching you work. Your hard working ethic, determination, and intelligence were some of his favorite qualities about you. The head of his cock ticks when you bite your lip subconsciously in solid focus.
It was also one of his turn-ons.
He strides over to you as you type swiftly on your keyboard. When you notice him, you roll your eyes at his nude appearance, continuing to type away. He sits beside you, glaring.
“What do you want, Nate?” You ask through clenched teeth. You can’t help but peer down at his struggling member, rosy head with dabbles of pre-cum leaking from it. If he wasn’t such a tease, you would get on your knees and suck him dry.
“Nothing. You know, I love watching you work. You look so sophisticated and smart,” Nathan compliments as his hand wanders toward your thighs. He massages them, your breath getting caught in your throat. Nate knew you loved being complimented, but especially when it had to do with your intelligence. He is ticking every box today.
He slides his fingers up until they’re touching your aching, clothed cunt. Your clit pulses sporadically, legs tensing when his fingers brush over it.
“What’s the matter, baby?” Nathan taunts with a devilish smile. Nate’s thumb pets your clit through your shorts, making you moan softly. You disregard your zoom meeting, your camera and microphone already off. Spreading your legs wider, he doesn’t speed up or stop, continuing to torture you by giving you little to nothing. “Are you all wet?”
You answer in a shuddery moan, focusing on the small touch. You’ve been so horny all day, even this is getting you off. Fists balling on the keyboard, his fingers brush the folds of your cunt, still covered by your shorts and panties. You gasp when he presses two fingers where your hole is as you clench around nothing but your own walls. Sliding your shorts down, he reveals your soaked panties, tsking at the sight. He yanks them down and off your legs. Being the dirty man he is, Nathan spits into his hand and wraps the fabric around his cock, stroking deliberately. Your own hand shoots straight to your clit and fondles it, desperate to be touched by him.
“Y/N, are you there? The meeting is over,” Your boss informs with a clipped tone. Your eyes drift to the forgotten screen, widening when you remember you’re still in the call.
“Don’t stop,” Nate demands through gritted teeth, powerful eyes piercing yours. Trembling, you continue to rub your clit as you unmute yourself.
“Y-yeah. Sorry, goodbye now,” You sputter out before slamming the laptop closed. Nathan groans while stroking his cock with your wet panties, making you clench around nothing.
“Rubbing yourself while working. Naughty girl,” Nathan tsks, dropping the underwear and lifting you up with a smirk. You both stand face to face with each other, aroused and desperate, yet neither will beg for it.
Caressing your face with his rough hands, Nathan pulls you in for a kiss. His tongue roams your mouth and his lips ignite a fire through your body. Your hands lock on his hips and squeeze his ass teasingly. He growls in your mouth, almost biting your tongue. Your fingers crawl up the nape of his neck, tugging at the short hair. Grunting, he slaps your ass playfully in return before breaking the kiss. You lift up your tank top and toss it across the room, abandoning it. He spins you around and bends you over so your rear is right against his front. You catch yourself with your hands planted on the ground, feet steadying you.
His bare length slots between your cheeks, soaked in your arousal. Nathan rocks back and forth without sliding in, so you push back against him in a silent plea.
“Fucking drenched,” He hisses, grabbing a handful of your soft skin until he’s holding your hips sturdy. “Didn’t know you were such a whore.”
“You’ve been—fuck— teasing me all day,” You moan as he ruts his cock against your fluttering folds. “Walking around naked? Who does that?”
“That’s not a nice way to talk to the person who’s determining if you’re coming tonight,” Nathan slaps your ass a little harsher this time, making you yelp and grind against him harder.
“Nate, please just fuck me already,” You plead as the blood begins to rush to your head.
“That’s more like it,” He spreads your cheeks and slams into you. Your arms almost collapse under the pressure, too weak for his brutal thrusts. His balls slap against your ass while he pounds mercilessly deeper and harder.
Rough, calloused hands grip your hips, forcing you to take all of his length. You can feel the ridges of his cock in your cunt as he hits new angles you’ve never experienced before. Wails and moans echo throughout the house as your limbs tremble with pleasure. Your vision becomes starry and your head starts to pound from being practically upside down. When the weakness of your arms causes you to crumble beneath your weight, Nathan sweeps you up before you could fall.
The blood rush melts away as his face comes into clear view. With ease, he rests you on the dining table near your forgotten laptop. His muscles bulk and flex with intensity as sweat begins to form on his skin. His chiseled core contracts with each impel, making you wetter and wetter. He thrusts back into you without warning, causing you to shriek.
“God, you’re so hot,” You whimper while squeezing his thick biceps, nails stabbing his flesh. Gutturally moaning, he seizes more brutal ruts into you, making your eyes roll back. He leans down to mark up your neck in tattooed kisses.
“What about me is so hot?” Nathan huffs mockingly into your neck, his warm and gravelly voice melting you entirely. He loved being praised, and seeing him so affected only spurred you to do it more.
“Y-your muscles. You’re so strong,” Pathetic moans pepper out of your throat, dry and squeaky from screaming. He growls, plunging savagely rough into your cunt at the compliment. Arousal surrounds his cock when you clench snuggly around him, milking him deliciously.
“Such a dirty girl. My dirty girl,” Nathan grunts while your breathing heaves. “Come now.”
Your pussy tightens around his length, unable to control the rapid bliss that hits you hard the second he permits. Your jaw drops in ecstasy, eyes screwed shut in undeniable pleasure.
“Look at me. Wanna see your gorgeous face.”
You attempt to open your eyes as your orgasm releases from you in silent cries. Core contracting and nails scratching, your back aches into his torso while he nibbles into your neck. White liquid pours out, legs shaking as you fall from the high. His pace slows as you feel the twitch of his cock inside your walls.
“Come in me. Please, baby,” Your croaked voice pleads him to the finish line.
“Mm, need me to fill you up? Need to be nice and full of my cum?” His hands spread your legs wider, rutting deep and slow into you when you moan in affirmation. His shaft spasms and his balls tense before he releases ropes of cum into your cunt. You whimper at the sensation, closing your eyes in euphoria. He pulls in and out, pushing all of his sperm far inside to make sure it’s all tucked in.
Nathan stares up at you as your hands slide up to his neck. A weary, blissed-out smile reflects on both of your faces as you lean in for a kiss. Your teeth clink from uncontrollable, cheeky smiles and your fingers intertwine in his chestnut hair.
“You were a bit of a tease today,” You bit your lip, pulling away, but keeping him close enough where you can feel his warm, heaving breath on your skin.
“You love it though,” An inviting smirk danced on his lips while a tinge of pink decorated his cheeks. He lowers his forehead to rest on yours, noses brushing cutely.
“Sadly, I do, Nathan Drake,” You hold back a goofy grin. “Sadly, I do.”
“Well, I hope you don’t say it like that at the wedding,” He chuckles and you gasp, swatting his chest playfully. You don’t want to act so surprised, but your eyes are shot wide.
“Do not mention wedding stuff! It’s only been… seven months!” With a pointed finger to his buff chest, he laughs it off with his hands raised defensively.
“But you’ve known me for ten!”
You were one hundred percent serious when you said you loved Nathan, you really did. But you never thought about a commitment until him. Not a serious one, that is. Although you two had a rocky start, he changed how you viewed the concept of relationships entirely. Your guard was constantly up, a barrier you created over the course of your life after being disappointed again and again. Nathan and you traveled various distances and battled challenges most people in their life will never face.
But he showed you that it was okay to live and to love because the risk of the fall doesn’t always end badly.
It wasn’t even directed toward you, just typical Nate inspiration, but that was a key quote you will forever remember. It was from your second (failed) mission together, when you were ‘stranded’ and waiting for Sully to ‘rescue’ you both (he just needed to bring the boat around). He opened up to you, like it was second nature to him. You envied how easy it seemed to pour your heart into a stranger who could possibly abandon you. But Nathan always had faith. And maybe his faith in you was right.
Maybe Nathan was the one who you’d say I do to.
You didn’t doubt him. You doubted you.
“I wouldn’t say it like that,” You whisper against his swollen lips, face blank with a million thoughts soaring behind your eyes.
“What?” His forehead crinkles in mild confusion while his hand caresses your jaw delicately. Curiosity and a hint of hope float within his irises, but it could just be your imagination.
“I would… be happy to say I do. I wouldn’t hesitate to say it. Well, I might, but only because I’d be nervous,” You heart thudded against your ribs and your palms began to feel clammy. You laugh awkwardly, anxiety infecting your body. “Why am I nervous now? I’m just imagining it— and now I’m rambling about nothing—”
“It’s not nothing, Y/N. I’ve imagined it, too,” Nate reassures with soft touches on your cheek, smoothing your hair over. “I pictured you in a long, white dress with an open back. Long, laced sleeves because I know you’d find that classic and elegant. You wouldn’t have a long train because you wouldn’t want to trip over it. I imagined that day to feel greater than any gold.”
Water glossed over your eyes as you fought back tears until you were swallowing thickly. You hadn’t expected him to have it all planned out. But again, Nathan always plans ahead. He’s always two steps in front of the average person. Another thing you loved about him.
You envisioned his description, finding only near-perfection in the way he thinks.
“Are you joking? Because I will find some creative ways to kill you—”
“I’ve never been more serious. Y/N, I knew from the first day we met that we had something. Whether we were partners, best friends, or dating, we were meant to be together. Don’t you think?” Both of his thumbs rub gentle circles across your supple cheeks, warm from the immense love circulated around you.
“I didn’t at first. Not like you did,” You smiled, remembering the awkward first encounter when Sully introduced you both. You were young and mischievous, and Nathan was also young, but also very trusting, which challenged your judgment. You didn’t even know of his existence a year ago, but ten months later and you feel like you’ve known him a lifetime. That’s got to count for something, right? “but now I understand that you’re right. We were destined to meet— Did you hear what I just said? Your sappy shit is influencing me!”
His beautiful, hearty laughter breaks the tension and pulls at your heartstrings when his skin crinkles to adjust to his expression.
“But you love me and my sappy shit, right?” He pecks your forehead, making you melt into a puddle right in the palm of his hand.
“Sadly, I do, Nathan Drake. Sadly, I do.”
—
hot??? cute??? hopefully :D
#shawnxstyles#tom holland smut#nathan drake smut#tom holland#nathan drake#uncharted#tom holland fics#tom holland fan fics#nathan drake fic#nathan drake fan fics#nathan drake x you#nathan drake x reader#tom holland x you#tom holland x reader
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The Nanny
Pairing: rafe x nanny reader
Summary: Being Wheezie's nanny was great. The only downside is dealing with the oldest Cameron, Rafe. What happens when his fascination with the nanny becomes a reality?
Warnings: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex (Practice safe sex), cream pie, mention of drugs, nipple play (If missing any please let me know)
Wc:4.6K
Chapter 4: Backseat Driving
The rest of the night was spent just chatting to the other, filling each other in on stupid things that happened in your life. You had forced him to help you clean up the kitchen after a while of laying on the couch, cheeks turning beet red once you saw the mess that was left. “Such a messy girl.” he taunts, sucking his teeth with the statement. This only made your cheeks flush redder, but he left the teasing at that. You teased him back for not knowing how to clean, embarrassment leaving you as he huffs out retorts.
Getting to know one another wasn’t as bad as it seemed before, conversation flowing as if you have known each other your whole lives. Well you did, both running into the other at parties or around the island, but this wasn’t simple courtesy. You actually wanted to get to know him, the thought frightening because only yesterday you were upset with him and he was ignoring you. But he keeps reeling you in with every question, “what's your favorite color?”, “Favorite song?”, “Favorite season?”, and so on. Each question met with your replies, “Yellow”, “Edge of Seventeen”, “Fall”, asking the same question till he told you his answers.
“Blue”, “Don’t have one”, “Summer because I get to watch you flaunt in those tiny skirts and bathing suits.” He’s half joking about the last one, his favorite season is definitely summer, getting to look at your little outfits are just a plus. That’s how the night ends, questions being shot at the other, until you both fall asleep.
In the morning you wake up facing the wall, the walls of Rafe’s room alerting you to the fact you are in the same bed that started it all. You just lay there for a moment, thoughts swirling in your brain, only snapping out of it due to the feeling of an arm on your waist. Glancing down you see the Cameron family ring on his pointer finger, you graze it lightly, pulling your hand back when his twitches.
Rafe is half asleep when he feels your fingers on him, enjoying the moment of you thinking he is still asleep. Watching you squirm, he tightens his hold on you, the hand you were playing with lightly making its way up before flattening on your chest. Your back is to his chest, sift breathing making the hairs on your neck tickle you. “Five more minutes.” He mumbles, lips pressing to your hair line. You chuckle, turning to face him.
“We should get up. What if it’s past twelve and we are just here sleeping the day away.” You reason, mostly wanting to escape the feeling in your chest. Rafe looks so pretty, his eyes closed making his eyelashes fan his face, pouty lips slightly plump from sleeping. He peaks an eye open, smirking at you before pecking your lips. “Maybe you're right. Wouldn’t hurt to brush that morning breath away.”
You push his shoulder embarrassed he called you out, a recurring theme it seems. “Asshole.” The words muffled with your hand covering your mouth. “Kidding, just wanted to tease you.” He brushes the hair that fell from your ponytail out of your eyes. “Come on, let's get in the shower. Got a long day ahead of us.” You miss the feeling of his body close to you as he pulls away to get up, the loss of body heat making you feel cold.
“What do you mean?” You ask resting on your elbow, watching as he walks around the room, opening drawers to take clothes out. “I gotta go see Barry, you know the guy over the other day. Just have to talk about some business but I wanted you to come with me. Maybe we could go do something after.” He’s saying it like it’s so easy, like wanting to be around you was natural for him.
“You want to hangout with me?” Your voice is low, maybe it was the shock of him suggesting a hangout without sex or it was because you're nervous. What if being with each other besides sex is awful? You could probably hate who he is as a person or worse he can realize you’re boring just to run off with the next girl. “What to good to hangout with me when I’m not fucking you?” He’s looking at you now, eyes shining as he teases you.
“Well If the shoe fits.” You can hear him scoff, your eyes trained at the bedsheets you pick at, hiding your smile from him. “Stop being a brat and get in the shower.” “alright, alright I’m going.”
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The gravel crackles under the truck tires as Rafe pulls down the driveway to get to Barry’s house. It’s a little rundown house, a trailer sitting off to the back by the firepit. His house isn’t too far from your childhood home, yet it feels like it’s in a different part of the island. You’ve heard stories about Barry, none of them good, the house seems to reflect its owner. Another hurricane and you swear it will blow away never to be seen again.
“You okay?” Rafe’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. “Yeah of course I am.” You look out the window as the truck comes to a stop. Truth be told you aren’t okay. Drugs have never been a good thing in your books, you’ve seen how it’s destroyed the lives of family members. How it slowly tears away at Rafe, destroying the relationships around him. You don’t like it but you don’t like the thought of him alone here. From what you’ve witnessed Rafe doesn’t know when to quit, taking one bump of coke after the other, wasting the day away so high that he can’t recognize the people around him. It’s always scared you, not wanting him to end like the horror stories told, but what else is there to do?
Rafe get’s out, going over to your side to let you out, wrapping his arm on your shoulder once you're out. “Country club!” The voice inside the house calls out, screen door opening displaying the man it belongs to. “Ooooo, you brought me a little treat. You really shouldn’t have.” Rafe’s arm tightens around you, shielding your body from Barry’s wandering eyes. In hindsight, wearing the yellow summer dress that comes down to midthigh was not the best decision. You feel exposed.
“Watch it.” Rafe bits out. “She’s off limits, understand?” Barry just scoffs walking back into the house. “White boy comes into my home and tells me what to do. Get your ass inside before I change my mind.” You are left outside, blue eyes blocking your view as Rafe gets in front of you. “You don’t have to go in. You can stay in the car if you aren’t comfortable, I won’t take it personally.” It’s sweet that he cares, maybe it’s because you are sleeping together, but it’s still sweet.
You grab his hand, intertwining your fingers and walking to the door. “It’s okay. I want to be here.” He can’t help but smile, yanking you for a kiss. “What was that for?” Your smile is so bright, the sun illuminating the freckles in your eyes. “Nothing.” He shakes his head, pulling the two of you to get inside. If the outside was run down, the inside is just as bad. There’s a mess everywhere you look, bags of various drug liter the table in the living room, bongs on almost every surface in the room
“Want some?” The silence made you aware of the eyes on you. “Me?” you question pointing to yourself. “Yeah you. It’s a good thing she’s pretty.” Barry chuckles, plopping himself on the couch, hoping to get a glance of what’s under that dress. “My eyes are up here asshole.” You shift, pulling the skirt down to cover up, only to expose more cleavage. Sitting on the opposite couch with Rafe, you glare at the man across from you. “And she’s feisty. I like her. Do you want anything?”
“No. I’ve never done drugs and I sure as hell am not doing them with you.” You retort, their eyes staring at you like you have two heads. Fuck! Anxiety fills you, thinking you fucked up by offending him. “You’ve never done drugs?” Rafe asks, eyes scanning your face waiting for it to show your joking. “Nope. Never done them.” You shrug. It’s not like the opportunity hasn’t occurred. Mostly every party in Obx has some sort of drug, in highschool your boyfriend even smoked weed, it just never was your thing. But mainly you never felt comfortable enough with a person to let you inhibition lower, too scared of what you will say or do.
“Well I’ll be damned. Got yourself a good girl huh, country club?” Rafe tenses up besides you, ready to push himself up off this couch and bash his face in. The nickname he gave you now leaving a bad taste in his mouth, hating the fact that someone else called you it. You hand finds his thigh, halting his actions, he takes a deep breath. “Can we get this over with? Got shit to do.” Rafe tried real hard to keep his tone cool, the words still coming out bitter. “Yeah I bet you do.” Barry’s looking at you again, practically undressing you with his eyes. Rafe’s eyes narrow, his fist balling up so close to teaching Barry not even address your existence.
“Alright, alright let’s go. Why don’t you just wait here? Wouldn’t want to taint you.” He gets up, walking off to the back of the house, a door closing separating you and Rafe from him. “Why don’t you go to the truck? I can meet you there once I'm done.” Rafes already up before finishing his sentence about to walk off, you stopping him so he can’t get too far. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?” “Promise.”
With that you leave, standing outside to enjoy the weather, it was perfect. A gnawing feeling is somewhere deep down, worried of what could be happening in there. Was he getting high? No, he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t put you in that danger. He was driving for god sakes, he wouldn't, right? The voices in your head are going a thousand miles per hour, throwing scenario after scenario.
You don’t know how long you were out there, it wasn’t a long time but your mind made it feel like hours. “You alright?” Rafe’s voice is right behind you, startling you in the process. “Oh god don’t do that.” You shriek, your right hand swatting him as your left clutches your chest. “Did you get everything?” He opens the door for you, the action making you blush, he smirks when he notices.
“Yeah, just some coke and weed to sell tomorrow night.” He gets in throwing the bags of drugs in the glove compartment. You can smell his cologne, it’s the one you got him for his birthday. “I like your cologne.” The words escape before you can stop them, shutting your eyes waiting for the teasing that's about to happen. “Thanks. Some pretty girl gave it to me, good to know it works.” He’s starting the truck and out the driveway as you think of what he just said.
There’s him calling you pretty again so effortlessly like he didn’t even need to think. “Works?” You question. “Been wearing it since I got it. Glad you finally noticed.” His eyes darted to you before going back to the road. You don’t know what to say, he’s been wearing it for months. When you first gave it to him you were nervous, you never had to give a present to someone who practically has everything.
It was one of the only things you could afford at the time, knowing he wears it seems weird to you. Why would he wear it just so you could notice? He has to be teasing you, yeah that’s it. There’s no way that everyday for almost a year he’s worn it. His birthday is in September and it's already June. He couldn’t have possibly worn it this whole time.
Rafe turns on the radio before your thoughts make you crazy, the song silencing them. The older song fills the car, filling the gaps in conversation. You roll the window down, sticking your arm out the window to feel the wind as you pass the trees lining the road. Whatever is happening between you is confusing. There are moments when you feel like there is something more, that there's this thin layer separating you from falling. Every stolen kiss, touch, words, chipping away from the layer ready to pull you under. Rafe keeps glancing at you, wanting to say something but nothing comes to mind
“Try to stop my hands from shakin’. ‘Cause somethin’ in my mind’s not making sense.”
Rafe listens to the song, lyrics infiltrating his mind.
“It’s been awhile since we were all alone. I can’t hide the way I’m feelin’. As you’re leaving, please, would you close the door? And don’t forget what I told ya.”
He’s staring now, barely looking at the road, just enough to make sure he doesn’t crash the truck. You are humming along to the song, lost in your own thoughts, trying to enjoy this moment worried it would be ripped away. He can’t stop himself from placing his hand on your thigh, right below the hem of the sundress. His fingers digging into your skin to give you a little squeeze, getting you to look at him.
“Just ‘cause you’re right, that doesn't mean I’m wrong. Another shoulder to cry upon.”
Rafe can’t take it anymore, the sun lighting your hair is giving you a halo. It makes you look like an angel. You were an angel, his angel. He’s not in control anymore, his emotions are running high and he doesn’t know how to handle it. This whole thing is new to him. Rafe has never had someone in his life to feel this strongly about. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as he goes to pull over to the side of the road. “Rafe, what are you doing?” A laugh follows your question. “You just look so fucking beautiful right now. I need to kiss you.”
“I just wanna use your love tonight, yeah. I don’t wanna lose your love tonight. Yeah, I just wanna use your love tonight.”
Putting the car in park, his seatbelt flies off of him as he leans over the center console. The radio fading into the background. His left hand grabs your face to pull you into a kiss, his right hand unbuckling you from your seat. You didn’t even need to think about it, you kissed him back deeper, throwing your arms around his neck. The two of you sit there for a few minutes, just kissing each other breaking apart only to get a quick breath of air before diving back in. Neither of you really want to stop, too caught up in the feeling of each other. Ever since you both opened up to each other, even just a smidge, it brought you closer together. Tying a piece of you to the other. Pulling away you open your eyes to notice he still had his closed and a goofy lopsided smile. It was small but you still saw it. “Let’s get in the backseat.”
“Oh yeah? What’re you going to do?” Rafe questions, his right eyebrow raising. “Hurry up before I change my mind.” You challenge. “Yes ma’am.” He retorts, a quick kiss being shared before you climb into the backseat. Rafe gets out of the car, opening the backdoor to join you. “Really out in the open? Should have known you liked having people watch you considering you like watching.” As he tries to get settled in the back, the memory of what started this floods you. Not trying to overthink it, you throw your leg over his lap, your hands resting on the backseats. “Maybe I just don’t mind it when it’s you I’m doing with.” You shrug it off by kissing him.
It took his brain a minute to catch up before he deepened the kiss, focusing on the little confession for a second too long. Rafe’s hands are rubbing up your thigh, pinching the skin just to smooth it over once again. His right hand creeps higher up your thigh as you grind down on him, going underneath the dress and stopping. Rafe breaks the kiss pulling his head back, his fingers twitching. “Are you not wearing any underwear?” You blush at being called out, but you're too turned on to even feel embarrassed so you grind down harder.
“Thought they would just get in the way.” You go to lean in again but his other hand stops you. “You’re telling me that you were sitting at Barry’s with no panties on? God what did I do to deserve such a dirty girl.” This time it’s him going in for a kiss, cupping your neck and hip as your hips pick up their movement. You can feel him through his jeans, his hard dick rubbing against your clit perfectly, but you felt empty. You wanted to feel him stretch you to your limits again, addicted to the pain of having him open you up.
Your hands skim down his chest, landing on his toned stomach as you tease the button of his jeans. “How much do you want me?” You ask, your lips leaving a trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck, sucking on it till you leave a little bruise and lick it. “So fucking much Sunny. You have no idea.” He moans out, the hand under your dress finds your clit, rubbing small tight circles. It’s not long before you are ripping his jeans off him, he lifts his hips allowing you to pull them down, the boxers he wears go along with them.
“Why don’t you be a good girl and ride me. Huh baby? Show me who makes you feel good.” Oh god, if he kept talking like that you could probably cum just from his voice. The raspy low voice was like music to your ears, you could listen to it for hours on end. Your soft hand wraps around him, giving a little tug, lifting you up and lining him up to your entrance. Rafe closes his eyes ready to feel your tight walls squeeze him to an inch of death but nothing happens.
He peeps an eye to look at you and you're just there looking down at him with a light smile. “Come o-oh fuck.” His sentence interrupted by you sinking down on him, you moan at the stretch. When you bottom out he grips your hips keeping you in place, giving you time to adjust to his size. Considering he did prep you with his fingers, he doesn’t want to hurt you. Your soft whimpers fill the car as you move slightly, the motion causing him to brush against your g-spot and you clit against the patch of his hair.
“You feel so good baby. So fucking big.” You whine into his ear, burying your head in his neck, the feeling of him too much. The words rush straight to his dick making it twitch, his hips rutting,arms going around your body to hold you. You moan at the feeling, your hips start to move on their own accord, grinding until you gain the confidence to raise your hips.
You lean back making eye contact as you raise your hips before slamming them back down on him. His eyes roll to the back of his head, his mouth dropping into an “O” shape. You keep bouncing, your nails scratching his chest to ground you to something. In this position he feels deeper, it’s a little bit painful but it felt like heaven. Rafe’s hands dig into your hips helping to lift you up and bring you down.
The two of you stay like that, you bouncing on him, his dick rubbing your g-spot in the greatest way. One of the hands on your hips slowly travels to your clit adding to the stimulation you were already feeling. “Oh fuck baby. So perfect, my perfect little girl.” You just moan at him, leaning back between the front seats. Your hands find the middle counsel to keep you upright, giving you extra leverage to keep bouncing.
His other hand glides up your stomach, giving your left tit a squeeze before pinching your nipple. “That feel good?” He comments after hearing your moan increase in pitch. “Yes.” you breath out, you're so close to cumming, tingles spreading from you abdomen throughout your body. Rafe leans closer to you, his mouth wrapping around the nipple he isn’t playing with. The suction of his mouth felt amazing, his teeth grazing your pebbled nipple. The fluttering of your walls alert Rafe that you are about to cum.
“Cum for me Sunny.” Just like that you were cumming, your hand grasping his shoulder due to the intensity. Your nails leave red marks all over his shoulder and collar as you claw at him, getting over stimulated as he keeps you bouncing. He wraps an arm around you to stabilize you out, the orgasim taking the energy out of you. Your limb in his arms, barely noticing him moving you both back so he’s resting on the seat and you're on his chest.
“It’s okay baby, I got you.” Rafe whispers in your ear. He’s thrusting up into you now, chasing his own pleasure. “Harder.” You moan out wanting him to ruin you. He picks up his pace, pulling you down as he thrusts up, filling you up deliciously. You can feel him throbbing, his hips starting to lose their rhythm. You lift your arm resting it on the seat behind his head, your hand scratching the back of his head.
His hand finds you clit again, wanting to feel you cum around his dick one more time. “You got one more in you right? I know you can give me one more.” You nod, your senses coming back to you, your hips meeting his to give him what he wants. It wasn’t long before you were cumming again, shaking in his arms feeling his cum fill you up as your orgasim triggers his. You just rock back and forth trying to get the feeling to last longer. After a few rocks, Rafe stopped you, hissing at the stimulation.
Pulling you off of him, he places you in the seat next to him to get some extra napkins to clean you up. “Why don’t we go get some food and then go home.” He suggested throwing the napkins on the floor of the truck. Home. Hearing him call Tannyhill home as if you belong there, not just as a nanny, but actually belong there makes you happy. It’s probably foolish to get happy or excited knowing this will fade soon. But you can’t help but want that.
You want Tanny to be your home, the thought scares you but it’s the truth. Being there has made you the happiest you’ve been in a really long time. “Yeah. Think we can get burgers? Been craving them for the last week.” He fixes your dress pulling you both out the car and into the front. “We can get whatever you want.”
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“Hey you go in and get our order. I need to run to the store real quick.” Rafe is parked outside the restaurant. You had placed the order on the way over but there was still at least ten minutes before it would be ready. “Yeah I can. Grab me some chocolate.” You tell him as you get out. Walking into the restaurant you can tell how busy they are, the tables are full and there's a line of people waiting for a table. “How can I help you?” The hostess asked. “I have an order.” You tell her your name, waiting to the side as she said it would still be a while.
You pull out your phone and answer some texts from your friends. You notice the message chain with your mom. You wanted to reach out to them, say you are sorry and give them the money, but rafe words creep into your brain. You are finally living your life the way that you want to live it, not how they want you to live. Finally breaking the tension with Rafe seemed to be a blessing in disguise.
The hostess calling your name snaps you out of the thought of your parents. You grab the order walking out the building ready to call Rafe when you see the truck pulling up. The window is rolled down and you can see him leaning on the counsel to look at you standing there. “Got an uber for Sunny, have you seen her? She’s pretty short, beautiful, sassy beyond belief.” You roll our eyes while opening the door and getting in.
You place the food down between your feet and buckle up. “Haha, so funny. Everyone looks short when they are standing next to you, giraffe.” The name made him chuckle, his hand pushing your hair back and playing with the strands. “As long as you like giraffe’s I’m okay with being yours.” You stare at him, bewildered at what he just said.
He’s okay with being yours? After the past few days your feelings have been confusing. You have always found him attractive but didn’t want to risk your job or Wheezie. It’s been harder to not let those feelings come out when you are around him. You grab his hand and bring it to your lips, giving it a light kiss. You intertwine your hands and bring them to your lap, brushing your thumb along his hands. “I love them.” You smile.
The words have a deeper meaning than what you both want to admit. Your smiling contagious as one starts to form on his face. “Good.” His eyes are intense, willing you to confess something more, just a little more to give him the courage to do the same. No words are said, Rafe diverts his eyes from you, swallowing the lump in his throat. The words that threatened to spill, dying and being locked away once again.
He doesn’t know when the crushing weight in his chest began to form. The uncomfortable feeling in his throat caused him to clear it. Rafe shouldn’t think too much about it, he knows this is just for fun. But when he looks at you he knows that he’s lying to himself, he doesn’t even want to think about stopping what you have. It doesn’t matter what he wants, he will never be good enough for you, he’ll just have to settle for what you will give him. “Let’s get home. We can eat and watch that movie you were talking about the other week.”
He remembered the movie, you thought. He also has been wearing the birthday cologne you got him. He couldn’t be more perfect, you wish these were different circumstances. That you weren’t just some girl that worked for his family and he was just the son of your boss. You wish that at this moment you were more, someone who was worth more, someone who could actually be his. Maybe for just a moment you can actually believe that you deserve him. “Yeah that sounds good. Let’s go home.”
#rafe x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe smut#rafe obx#outer banks smut#drew starkey smut#rafe cameron fanfiction
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Loverboy
jake "hangman" seresin x fem!reader
"Jakey, just have fun for me," your whine brought out a lovesick smile on his lips. "You can't call me every fifteen minutes and actually expect to enjoy your night out."
[1.1k] | incredibly lovesick jake seresin alert, idk what this is im not even sober, am i ever not drunk, anyway alcohol consumption, javy's bromance w/ jake, just fluff actually he's so cute i'm forever gonna stick up for the loverboy jake agenda
reblog and/or like for a kiss, feedback much appreciated! not proofread.
With his back against the outer wall of the bar, Jake couldn't contain the smile on his lips while tapping away on his phone to find your name.
He had no idea how and when it happened exactly, this excruciating amount of pull that you had on him— which had him twirling his imaginary long hair and kicking his feet often after any moment spent with you or as a very natural response to a very casual text you sent, when nobody was around to see.
He was happy to be living up to the nickname you gave him long ago, when that too-good-to-be-true exterior cracked and cracked until he finally revealed his true nature; a loverboy.
Your line dialed for the fifth time as he held his phone up to his ear, the music still pretty much hearable even through the wall. Javy was inside waiting for him, and honestly was quite surprised that Jake would down the rest of his second drink and walk out right away because "I gotta tell my girl about this, she's gonna laugh so hard" but it was the new normal for a long while now, wasn't it?
You finally picked up, a bit later than usual since you said that you'd just be at home— catching up with work and stuff which Jake didn't really listen to the details of, and you couldn't exactly blame him for that. "Hello?"
"Hey, babe." his giddy tone could be felt through the line. "Jus' wanted to check up on you. What are you doing?"
"Ah," you chuckled. "Still working, honey. Same as you left me."
All you could hear was a hum of understanding before he released a deep sigh, leaning further on the wall. "Wish you were here with me, honestly. Javy's such a fucking idiot— can't wait to tell you all 'bout it."
"Jakey, just have fun for me," your whine brought out a lovesick smile on his lips. "You can't call me every fifteen minutes and actually expect to enjoy your night out."
"But I enjoy things a lot more when you're doing it with me."
"Machado's gonna hate me if you keep this shit up, y'know that?" he recognized your teasing tone immediately, huffing out a snicker. "He's still hurt that you wouldn't spend 'Bromance Day' with him."
"Well, his 'Bromance Day' just so happened to be February fourteenth, he should've managed his expectations. I was free on the thirteenth. Not the fifteenth because my girlfriend is an insatiable little—"
"Hey, shut it," you laughed, and he knew you well enough to know that you were shaking your head now, even if he couldn't see. "You should stop grumbling about one of the few people that actually endures your annoying ass, work on your time management and get back to the bar, alright?"
"Right," he took a deep breath again, not even aware that he was holding it— perhaps he was afraid of missing even the tiniest details of your voice, unhappy with the lack of justice the static of the line did to it. "I'm gonna wreck that dart board for you, baby."
When Jake came back home that night, a little bit later than he said he would, but in his defense, you did tell him to have fun. Probably reeking of alcohol and sweat, he figured in his tipsy state that you must be asleep by now, and made sure to be extra quiet while shuffling out of his jacket and setting his keys down by the shoe rack. He tiptoed his way over to the bathroom then, and ran himself a cold shower— mostly to get rid of the scent, and to perhaps go to bed with a clearer head but he was sloppy nonetheless, and a shower without singing wasn't really a good shower.
He still sang some of his favorite songs very quietly though.
But when he walked into your shared room with a warm robe around his body, he didn't expect you to… not be there. It was late. You sure would've left what you were doing to run to his side the second he came back if you were awake, right?
Looking around the room in confusion as if you'd magically appear from behind the curtain and scare him shitless, he took a sharp breath and walked towards the small study you had— a comfortable, quiet space to work on stuff or to just think, and his prediction proved itself to be right because you were right there, arms crossed on top of the desk with your head resting on them, eyes closed, computer still open with whatever you were busy with doing on the screen.
God, he was smiling like an idiot.
"My busy bee…" he whispered to himself, before carefully approaching your desk— making sure to save all your work before putting the computer on sleep mode just in case. With one arm leaning against the desk, he then looked down at your sleeping figure, looking so content despite the awkward position— and he couldn't help the quiet chuckle that left his lips. "Should I wake you or potentially startle you while trying to carry you to bed?"
You didn't even stir.
"You're gonna be the death of me one day." he complained, but tried out a couple of different arm positions that he could potentially use to carry you— with no luck. That's when you finally let out a yawn though, mumbling out his name before slowly pushing yourself off the desk. "I'm sorry— I couldn't figure out how to pick you up. It's easier when you're on the couch—" but then you just wrapped your arms around his neck, getting in a better position for him to pick you up.
Too sleepy to do anything else. Jake felt his heart doing Olympic backflips.
With a secure grip by your waist and the back of your knees, he carefully picked you up from where you were seated, smiling to himself when he felt your lips by his neck, and then a tired murmur. "M'sorry. Wanted to stay awake for you but— work's boring."
He chuckled at that, a soft noise that brought a smile to your lips when your back finally met the cold mattress. "You should've just gone to bed, sweetheart. Your back will kill you if you keep that up."
"It's fine," you replied, only then opening your eyes to see him sitting by the edge of the bed, his warm palm covering your knee with a compassionate smile on his lips. "Bed's cold. You gotta warm me up or else I might actually die—"
"God, such a baby," his tease was followed by a chuckle as he slightly pushed you over to get to his side, quickly wrapping the both of you with a blanket before undoing the belt of his robe, just so the knot wouldn't bother you when he pulled you closer to his chest. "Go right back to sleep, honey. I got you."
And you were content on doing exactly what he told you to do, except, he didn't do the same— but instead, decided to take a good look at your serene expression and sigh to himself, nothing but whispers leaving his lips as he admired you. "I love you so bad, it's not even funny anymore."
a/n: guess which songs jake were singing in the shower. my playlist is very dry lately and im going to steal your guesses shamelessly and then remember you fondly 3 years later when i stumble upon that song again and then we're gonna fall in love and—
#jake seresin#jake hangman seresin#jake 'hangman' seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake 'hangman' seresin x reader#top gun maverick#top gun maverick hangman#top gun hangman#hangman x reader#jake seresin x y/n#jake seresin x you
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me or the ps5 • san
warnings: dom!san, sub!reader, san not being a v good boyfriend at the start, punishment, impact, crying, reader is called slut and whore, safeword mentioned but not used, implied blowjob, meanie san til he goes soft for u
———————
Hours.
It’s been fucking hours now, and he hasn’t said a word to you. Normally you’re fine with his gaming habit, most young men have one and he doesn’t do it very often, but he’d left you high and dry this morning, rutting against you a few times, fingers tracing your inner thighs before walking out of the room with a small smile. It’s his favourite game; working you up then pulling away just as he’s got you going. He says it makes you more pliant and desperate when you fuck which is true, but damn if it doesn’t piss you off.
You’ve already tried and failed to get his attention, slipping into the shorts he only lets you wear around him and finding every excuse to bend over in front of him, but he barely looked away from his game for long enough to notice. You’d huffed, whining out his name in frustration but all you’d gotten from that was that sharp ‘behave yourself’ look before he was back on that damned game.
You’ve been sulking since then, storming around the house and muttering to yourself about revenge but that’s not enough. If he thinks he can ignore you all day to play that stupid game, he’s dead fucking wrong. You will win, even if you have to play dirty. And playing dirty is exactly what you’ll do.
From the back of your closet you retrieve an unopened pink bag containing lingerie you’d bought for him but never had a chance to wear; it was so sexy that you’d decided to keep it for when you really needed it. When nothing else gets you what you want. Like now, for example.
You slip it on, fastening and adjusting it until it fits you perfectly. You’d forgotten how hot this set was; it curves and highlights all of the parts of your body he loves the most, teasing and tempting but leaving nothing to the imagination. If this won’t get his attention, nothing will.
You’re already wearing makeup from your earlier escapades so it doesn’t take long to touch yourself up before you pull on some thigh high socks, clipping them to your garter and spraying yourself with his favourite perfume and skipping towards your target.
He doesn’t look up when you enter, still focused on the game. Not for long. You approach him from behind, making yourself as attractive as you can, but he’s so immersed you know it could take hours for him to actually turn around. A plan quickly forms in your head and you smile, knowing the line you’re toeing. You’re about to get either the best fuck or worst punishment of your life, and right now, both sound good.
You manage to get under the desk undetected, slipping in from the side and positioning yourself so your face is level with his cock. You run a hand up his thigh towards it, finally alerting him to your presence but he keeps playing, as of yet unbothered. You quickly free his cock and wrap your mouth around it as much as you can — he’s by far the biggest you've had, so you can’t fit all of it in your mouth without suffocating, but he’s taught you how to please him even without deepthroating. But you barely have time to put that knowledge into practice before there’s a harsh grip in your hair, tugging you out from under the desk and bringing you face to face with your fuming boyfriend.
“Up to something, slut?” He snaps. “What’s this game huh?”
You shrug, plastering as innocent a smile as you can feign across your lips. “Just wanted to make you happy, Sannie,” you sing.
He snarls, pulling you to your feet by the grip he has of your hair, and you feel almost victorious when he finally notices your getup and stills, whatever he was about to say now caught on his tongue. He looks you up and down, silent for a few seconds. “When did you get that, whore?”
“A while ago,” you giggle. “Wanted to surprise you.”
He laughs but his eyes are dark and calculating — he knows your game, but you know his too. “You want to fuck me now, don’t you?” You whisper.
“I do,” he says. “And if you’d found a better way of getting my attention, I would have, but you just had to be a brat.”
You frown. “Nothing else worked.”
“That’s a shame,” he says, shaking his head sadly. “Because I was about to finish up and reward you for waiting so patiently, but instead I have to do this.”
He grabs your arm and yanks you towards him, feigning a sad look at you before quickly manoeuvring you to bend over his knee. “Do one thing right and stay still,” he mutters, and that’s all the warning you get before his hand is crashing down onto your ass.
Your boyfriend’s punishments are always harsh but these hits are relentless, fast and hard and randomly spaced so you have no way of knowing where the next one will land. Whether it’s your behaviour or the frustration caused by his game that’s got him so ruthless, you curse yourself for choosing a thong to tempt him with, because now you have no protection from his hits as they land on your bare ass. You do your best to stay still like he told you but before long you’re writhing and crying in his lap, squirming to get away from the burning pain that only increases as he continues, but his other hand is firm on your back, holding you down and at his mercy. The pain is intense and all you can focus on. You must make a pathetic sight, with your resolve to provoke him lost embarrassingly quickly, and the most humiliating part is he doesn’t even acknowledge you. Your safeword dances briefly on your tongue, and the screaming pain in your ass begs you to say it but you shake your head at yourself, determined to see this through.
Soon a particularly hard hit lands in the centre of your ass, right above your hole and you gasp out “Sannie'' at the impact. You hear him groan and his hand stills above your red skin. However tough he pretends to be, your nickname for him melts him every time you say it — especially when it’s cried out between the pretty tears you shed for him.
He starts up again but this time the hits are slower, more rhythmic and he grants you the mercy of alternating between each cheek so at least you know where he’ll hit next. Your head clears enough for you to register his voice as he tells you, “ten more, baby”. You sniffle and nod your head and he starts up again.
After what feels like endless hits the last ten aren’t too horrible, and you manage to count them out in your head. When the last hit lands he soothes you immediately, bundling you up to rest your head on his shoulder and wipe your tears. Normally he lets you languish in his lap for a while after a punishment, making you recite what you’d done to deserve it before allowing you to get up but this is the harshest you’ve been punished in a while, so he lets you just sniffle into his chest instead as he runs a soothing hand up and down your back.
You calm down eventually, enough to lift your head from his tear-stained shirt and he strokes your red cheeks. “Now,” he says softly. “You gonna interrupt me again?”
You shake your head, sniffling. “Never.”
He smiles at you, all love and softness in contrast to the stern persona he’d worn just minutes earlier, but somewhere between his hand squeezing your throbbing ass and the mischievous glint in his eye, you gather he’s not quite done with you.
“Now let’s finish what you started, huh?” He suggests and you smile. In the end, you've gotten exactly what you want.
———————
a/n: im back guys! explanation for my absence in my last post:) please comment and reblog, its a big motivator! requests open too!
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Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Part VII
Synopsis: You would say that you grew up together. From children, to teenagers, to young leaders, you did nothing but be who you were and Tobirama would forever name his love for you as the reason he hated the Uchiha.
Word Count: 5k
Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead, including graphic violence. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.
Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII
Notes: Considering Izuna and Sasuke look so much alike, part of me wondered if I could use a picture of Sasuke for the front panel and if anyone would truly notice if I claimed it was a panel of Izuna haha
The gates to the Uchiha settlement were open, and enemy forces began gathering outside.
However, when describing the formidable territory the Uchiha had collected over the past few years, referring to their land as a settlement was a rather egregious understatement. The Uchiha gathered upon a sprawling territory equalling half the Grand Mountain range in addition to a handsome chunk of the flats, with the main sector they called home being in the center of the dense forest on a level section of the elevated land.
After a long and strenuous trek up the mountain, the foreign battalions sat in wait among the tree branches in the shadow of their last obstacle. Tall, jagged tree trunks lined the main sector of the Uchiha civilization, forming a wall stretching almost infinitely in both directions. The barrier was interrupted only by a single open gate.
It sprawled open in the cool night air. The sharpened ends of the wooden fortress pointed up toward the heavens, casting a jagged shadow across the ground to the treeline like ferocious teeth lining an agape jaw.
A slight breeze caused the leaves to waver as the shadow-shrouded leadership pondered the open gate. Desperation and bloodthirst were almost palpable among the forces, exacerbated by fatigue and impatience.
They ultimately trickled in against their better judgment, passing through the mouth of the Uchiha settlement in the moonlight. Years of passage in and out of the gate reduced the walking paths to little more than dirt and weeds.
The battalions pressed on. The commanding warriors motioned for their squads to fan out in the darkness, moving low and quietly to fan out among homes and buildings. The battalions proceeded stealthily across the beaten-down ground, filling the entire west end of the camp before they squatted in the darkness with weapons at the ready.
Stillness once again overtook the quiet compound.
The bright light of the full moon illuminated the settlement’s center, but the presence of the wooden fixtures left starkly black shadows around the camp’s perimeter. Even for nighttime, the shadows lingered a bit too largely among the buildings.
Not a single Uchiha walked the dirt paths or stood guard in the tall perches that littered the fortress walls. Those had been the largest consideration in the foreign battalion’s strategy, as with the sharingan eye, a single guard could see down to the base of the mountain and miles beyond. And yet, not a single Uchiha soul was to be seen or sensed in the dimness of the night.
A muffled grunt sounded at the back of one of the squads. Members of the rear squads turned in alert, only to find nothing there but a swordsman-less sword and a patch of trampled dirt.
And then the gate closed.
The honed ends slammed into ditches made in the ground long ago by movement. And before any response could be given to the disappearance of their most rear troops, all attention shot to the sealed-off exit. The invading force couldn’t help the surprised and horrified gasps that echoed through their ranks. Leadership hushed them quickly, whispering harsh words to recenter their feeble troops.
Red eyes began to illuminate the darkness.
Gurgling noises were swept off into the night as the warriors could only turn just in time to witness the corpses of their comrades being dragged off into the shadows. Kunai flew silently through the air. Blunt noises announced their impact, followed by the wet, squelching noises of blood spatter.
Members at the front of their squads were quick to light torches, illuminating the battlefield in a wave of flame to reveal the creeping Uchiha waiting in the murk. The Uchiha held their weapons at the ready with their piercing gazes. Some crouched near the ground, holding the bodies of warriors before them with slit throats. A few of the captured were twitching; heads hung as the barely alive men were forced to watch their own blood stain the fronts of their armor red.
With rage and fear in their eyes, the attacking forces led a charge, hollering out in the air with raised weapons. Their battle cries were enough for the battalions to summon back some courage lost at the sight of their fallen comrades. The clanging metal of swords filled the atmosphere as shouts rose toward the night sky. Uchiha stormed out from their hiding places, making expert use of their superior ocular abilities and quality weaponry.
The resistance was futile.
The sound of battle rang out, cries of pain only fueling the will of the Uchiha to defend their home. Forces gathered near the center of the main entry path, all having been stopped from moving farther. The enemy forces tried to press on in the face of their obstacle, but the bodies continued to drop. A mass of flesh and metal, the impact made an unmistakable clatter as carcasses hit the dirt below. One by one, they fell with a swiftness that dared to resemble mercy, and above them all, Madara emerged.
Madara Uchiha, who already had a tall and bulky figure in his teenage years, had filled out his crimson-red armor. It proudly adorned his broad chest and squared shoulders, the pieces clanging together harshly as he moved— like a snake’s warning rattle. Madara’s foot found soft flesh as he stood tall upon the mountain of corpses, his oversized weapon slung across the back of his shoulders and the full moon framing his head. He wore his scars pridefully, displaying his well-earned trophies as symbols of his strength. Madara was no longer a boy green in his leadership skills but a battle-hardened man.
And his vast, infamous reputation proceeded him.
A few warriors stood strong against him, holding their swords up as they cried out rageful battle cries, ready to engage in combat again. But they were far and few between compared to the forces that turned and attempted to flee.
Madara watched them with a critical eye, and the remaining warriors couldn’t help but glance out of their peripherals in horror as their remaining comrades were cut down as they ran back toward the closed gates.
It was a massacre led by Izuna Uchiha.
He expertly swung his katana— his movements looking far more like a dance than a slaughter— pivoting in a single place as he cut down the fleeing forces that passed. The retreating forces who managed to make it past pounded on the closed entrance as those on the outside of the crowd were slowly picked off one by one.
They clamored over each other, stepping on one another as they tried to climb up the towering fortress walls. Their wailing and begging resounded into the darkness of the night as Izuna moved in, his Mangekyō Sharingan allowing him to pay little regard to any attacking soldiers as he cut them down with ease.
The night turned silent once again.
Tall torches were lit, lighting the battlefield in a rich glow. The cleanup began as Uchiha dragged corpses and barely alive men through the dirt to a pyre. Children scrambled through the blood-stained village to collect weaponry that could be melted down and reforged.
Madara searched the piles of bodies himself, stalking through them like a proud tiger. Sharingan still ignited, he searched for survivors. Madara plucked one out of the pile by his hair. A strangled, boyish cry pierced the rotting atmosphere as Madara threw him down into a puddle of mud and blood.
The swordsman, a boy no older than seventeen, picked his face up and laid against the bodies of his slain comrades. A gaping wound stretched across his stomach at the bottom of his ribcage, staining the cloth he wore under his armor a sickly dark red.
Madara stared down at him with severe eyes. The black patterns were still swirling within the reds of his irises. The young swordsman met his gaze head-on like a cornered and wounded animal, teeth clenched and brow knitted.
His shaking fingers tightened weakly around the hilt of his sword, and in one last act of defiance, the young warrior pointed the tip of his weapon at Madara.
The entire sword shook.
Madara watched the display without expression, meeting the young warrior's gaze with a blank scowl. The young warrior quirked a semblance of a smile, painfully aware of his impending fate.
Madara extinguished his sharingan, ignoring how the sword’s tip swayed with the boy’s dwindling strength. It was kicked away, and Madara took the boy by the hair again, dragging him off.
The young warrior moaned in agony but ultimately couldn’t do much to resist. Madara dragged the boy along the ground, filth that wasn’t his own collecting in the young warrior’s mouth as the skin on his torso tore. His head hit one stair, then another, and when Madara threw him down again, he found himself on a wood floor.
The room was warm.
When the young warrior opened his eyes, he could barely make out what he was looking at, but then the handcrafted cabinets became focused. Vials of plants in vials lined the shelves. Dried flowers sat suspended in liquids. He couldn’t take his eye off the jar in the center of his sight: a thick-looking clear liquid with the heads of white flowers floating within. The petals were slightly curled, but the flowers retained their overall structure. He couldn’t think; he could only stare at the little flowers suspended inside.
He heard footsteps above him, somewhere just farther into the little building. The boy laid curled in on himself, unable to see much more than the shelf in front of him and Madara’s long legs, which ended somewhere out of his sight. The sound of the steps he couldn’t place was light and stopped short of him.
“I will grab another cot,” a woman spoke.
Cot? For him?
“No need,” Madara quickly cut her off. A few other Uchiha warriors entered the door, but the young swordsman could barely register anything. “Handle this swiftly.”
Another set of steps vibrated harshly through the wood floor. The young warrior’s eyes moved weakly, spying a familiar green armor from one of his allies. An Uchiha warrior hauled the corpse. The green-clad sleeve wavered limply in the air. He might have wondered how many of his comrades had been taken to this place if he had had more strength.
“Stay here.” The lighter steps walked off again. Even though they were traveling away, they were louder this time. The wood floor adjusted. The young warrior’s chest clenched, instinctively jumpy at unseen movement near his head.
“I have informed you that there is no need.”
“Ah, let another boy bleed out onto my floor then. I will ensure that the mop makes it to your hand,” the woman quickly snapped back. More noises resounded through the wood floor as she seemed to drag something forward. It sounded large if such a sound existed. There came a pause. “Well, do you intend to make yourself useful?”
“Woman!” The shout was loud enough to make the boy flinch. He wrapped an arm over his stomach. The bleeding wouldn’t stop. He could hardly feel the sting of the dirt contaminating his insides. “Do not push your luck.”
Before he could comprehend, the young warrior was lifted up. He gasped in pain, a noise of distress falling from his lips as his wound stretched before he settled on an elevated cot. A thick layer of fabric sat between him and the thin mat. A lantern light flashed, blinding him for just a moment as a set of hands came over his wound.
When he cracked open his eyes, he saw you. You stood over him, one hand stopping the bleeding of his large wound with a clean cloth. He flinched away as the other came toward his forehead. You brushed away some wet strands of hair stuck to his sticky forehead.
Madara stood a few feet behind you, watching over your shoulder. He took a long stride forward.
“That is enough with your nonnecessities,” he protested. You dismissed him with a sound of annoyance, holding your hand out to prevent him from getting any closer.
“If you cannot control yourself, you may wait outside,” you nodded without a second thought, departing from the young warrior’s vision again.
“Woman—” The foreign boy felt a sharp movement somewhere out of his vision. He closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of quick pivots and the sound of fabric snapping. Madara’s armor rattled. But the sound of a palm slapping skin that the boy anticipated didn’t come, and after a beat of slowly declining tension, you padded somewhere deeper into the room.
You left a cool breeze in your wake, and to his surprise, Madara remained quiet where he stood. The Uchiha clan head puffed to himself, the simmering of his temper not yet reaching a boil.
The door swung open, allowing night air to flow into the room, but the new spectator didn’t announce his presence.
The foreign warrior could hear you fiddling with something in your hands. Rapidly weakening, all the young warrior could do was hold the fabric you slipped under his hand on his wound.
When you appeared over him again, the lantern light illuminated the back of your head like a halo. And as you pressed something into his mouth, he couldn’t help but consider you one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.
Even at this hour, your hair draped gracefully over your brow. You had grown into your awkward features from adolescence, your immature frame having settled nicely into a distribution of healthy adult weight and functional muscle. You filled out in the way your biology intended. This might have been the first time he’s ever seen you, but the way your skilled hands and sharp mind held a commanding presence over your apothecary didn’t escape him— even as the elite Uchiha warriors hovered over your shoulder with every move.
You must be Madara’s wife, the young warrior presumed somewhere in the fog of his dizzying head. He considered the thought amusing, for who else could talk to the infamous warrior Madara like you had?
“Tell me—” You spoke gently and turned the young warrior’s head to the side to face you. You wiped off some of the grime that caked his face. —“What clan do you hail from?” Your hand wrapped gingerly around his wrist, and two fingers rested below his palm. The words spilled from his lips without a second thought.
“Sugai,” he answered as if his throat had retained strength while the rest of his body waivered. The word spilled out from his lips. He hardly registered it himself.
The handful of warriors who stood behind Madara muttered amongst themselves.
“The Sugai Clan…”
“Were all your comrades members of the Sugai Clan?” you questioned. Were. You didn’t even have to leave your apothecary to know what happened to the rest. The young warrior didn’t register your tense. He only answered.
“Not all,” he said before his voice drifted into a faint whisper. You leaned down so that your ear sat adjacent to his lips. Strands of your hair fell over the clammy skin of his face. You kept a keen watch over the young warrior’s hands. The cloth on his stomach had changed colors completely.
You continued your questioning and interrogation in a soft, low voice. You muttered to each other in the lantern light. Madara waited with frustrated anticipation, simmering to himself. After all, Madara had little patience for your involvement to begin with.
“It appears that the Senju have migrated north.” You finally resurfaced, adjusting your robes and releasing your hold on the babbling boy on the cot below. “They are snatching up alliances, it seems.”
“The Sugai Clan has allied with the Senju?” one of the Uchiha warriors questioned from behind you. Madara swiftly hushed him.
“Silence.” The room returned to a standstill in an instant, nearly militantly. Madara took a moment to think to himself, crossing his thick arms over his blood-stained chest plate. He stared at the dying warrior on the cot, watching as the pool of red crept onto the fabric below. His eyes flickered to yours. —“Not just the Sugai, but all minor clans in the east have been pushed from their territories. The raid tonight was unsurprising, to say the least—” Madara glanced outside through a sliver in the ajar door as the bodies piled up outside. “Clearly.”
“Four other small clans to the southeast have allied with the Sugai now that the land between Uchiha and Senju dwindles by the day,” you added, leaning against the counter. A jar of processed flower buds— the same that you had shoved into the young warrior’s mouth— sat next to your elbow. Your eyes flickered again to Madara’s, watching him closely to gauge his demeanor. You were the interrogator, but then again, when the head of the Uchiha ordered silence, even you were not immune.
“Indeed—” He chose not to regard you. —“We expected as much. This information is not new.”
Without a second thought, Madara swiftly cut the throat of the Sugai warrior before swiftly retreating out the door with his war fan.
One of the men behind him collected the young warrior, throwing him over his shoulder to be burned with the rest of the corpses. The boy coughed up blood, spewing it onto the wood flooring.
The door flapped back and forth in the doorframe. You watched as Madara and his pack of elite soldiers left between sways of the door. They grew smaller in the distance with every wave. You lurched forward, intent on following after them, but an arm swiftly wrapped around your torso. The motion almost swept you off your feet as Izuna’s shoulder blocked you from racing out the door. He gave a bit into your velocity, pivoting a half-step backward.
“Do not go outside,” he warned. You gripped the arm holding you, looking into Izuna’s dark eyes. A neutral expression held his face in acute severity. You didn’t miss how he held you at a calculated distance. Izuna’s lip shuddered once.
“You are not my keeper, Izuna. It is not your place to stand in my way.” You brushed him off and ripped your arm away from his stern grip before readjusting the shoulder of your robes. He let you, watching the backs of your robes while uncertainty swam in his dark irises. You set out through the door.
“Madara!”
Madara ignored you, pretending not to hear as he stormed away, but by the third shout of his name, he reluctantly stopped in his tracks. His posse of elite military figures passed by him as Madara heaved a heavy sigh, his armor clattering with the motion before he turned to you. You made your way down the stairs. Smoke and mild debris wafted through the air as the Uchiha warriors made short work of tidying up the settlement.
“Madara!” You called again as he lumbered over to you. He held his back erect with his weapon still clasped tightly in his hand. Madara said nothing as he expressed his usual stoic demeanor. You stood at the bottom step of the apothecary with one foot on the ground. Madara stopped a few meters away, still within earshot. He did not appear anywhere near as concerned as you were as you questioned him with wide eyes, “Are you unconcerned that Hashirama has been named head of the Senju clan?”
Your words remained stuck in the air, caught by the particles and impurities that danced in the atmosphere. The smell of death floated in the cool, nighttime wind.
Madara’s lip dipped into a frown.
“Lack of concern would be reckless indeed,” Madara muttered, puffing another deep breath out his chest. He pivoted slightly, turning his attention upward toward the moon. “However, it is not as reckless as refusing an alliance with the Senju based on Hashirama’s lack of leadership experience alone in favor of attacking the Uchiha. Small clans certainly have foresight equivalent to their size. The Sugai prove to be no different.”
“I worry about what this change in leadership will bring. It is most unpredictable.”
“Then it is fortunate that you are not in a position to worry yourself over such things.” Madara barked out what could have been mistaken for a laugh. “We have engaged with the Senju countless times. Formidable as they may be, the strength of the Uchiha is far greater.”
He dismissed you with a wave of his hand, returning to head deeper into the settlement again. Now that you had inserted yourself into village politics, Madara had had enough of humoring you. You followed.
“Tobirama Senju is a foul, beasty man. I can only imagine how— how objectionable the older one must be.”
Madara moved with wide strides, continuing with extra swiftness to purposefully lose you.
“And what do you know of Tobirama?” Madara scoffed. He faced forward, completely missing the expression of dread that fell across your face.
“The tales from Izuma, of course!” You quickened your pace.
Madara stopped once again, but you ran straight into his backplate this time. You stumbled back, a hand to your nose. Madara barked orders into the orderly chaos in front of you. He had taken to his role as clan head long ago and excelled in the position.
“For yet another time, you need not concern yourself with affairs on the battlefield. Do you understand this?” Madara only spared a glance over his shoulder at you. His irises flickering across your form with something akin to skepticism. Madara averted his gaze before you could meet it.
“You bring foreign boys to my doorsteps to rifle information from—”
“Enemy warriors who attacked your kinsmen and home.”
—“And you expect—”
“I expect you to hold your tongue and obey your clan head.” You stopped in the middle of your sentence at the sight of Madara’s sharingan. You frowned but looked away. You had pressed as far as Madara would allow. “Clean what you must in the apothecary swiftly, then go straight home.”
You retreated the way you came back toward the apothecary, sparing not even a pout of defiance at your clan head.
When you arrived, you found your space pleasantly lit as you pressed open the door. Izuna stood in the center of the room by the counter. A bundle of incense sat between his clasped hands. Izuna muttered a prayer as the smoke cleansed the apothecary. Death had occurred here, after all.
Izuna had lit every lantern and candle in the apothecary with his fire style, and the warm embers lit your workshop in a serene glow. The flame flickered in the reflection of the jar that held your truth-telling flower buds. A small line of smoke drifted from the incense, sailing up toward the high ceiling far above your heads. He followed the wisps with his eyes, tilting his chin up as he appeared deep in thought.
You guided the apothecary door shut behind you. Izuna continued to withhold his eye contact, almost as if you wouldn’t notice him and shoo him away if he didn’t meet your eye. The cleaning supplies had already been brought out of storage. The bloody cot— along with the others from earlier in the night— was gone, along with the bloody streak across your floor.
You stepped forward to inspect the wood paneling. No, some of the blood stains still remained, deepening the color of the previous one, which deepened the one before that.
“Women should not have to be so close to such barbarism,” Izuna spoke, gaze training on the little jar of flower buds. He placed the incense in a ceramic holder, lingering for only a second before finally turning to face you directly.
The orientation of his clothes appeared neat compared to the rest of him. Sweat, dirt, and blood layered his skin, deepening the complexion of his skin tone. Spatterings littered his armor. A prominent line of rust-red extended from his chest to over his right eye, bisecting his face with sanguinary matter. But his hands were clean— starkly pale and pristine in comparison to the blackish mix of earth and gore that stained his skin above his wrists.
“I will be standing guard outside,” he said, “I am well aware that you will not be sleeping tonight. I would normally protest, but it is preferable to you venturing outside.”
“Izuna—”
He offered you a nod and little else as he began to walk toward the door, the back of his robes fluttering with his stride. You stepped after him, swiftly snatching his sleeve. Izuna turned to you, his motion gentle.
“Izuna, please. You are being ridiculous.” It was uncomfortable meeting his eye. He looked intently at you as if just speaking was a contract binding his full, undivided attention. Even without his sharingan, it felt like he was looking right through you. “Stay. Let me treat your hands and cleanse your armor.”
Izuna’s gaze flickered gently down to your hand as he slotted his index finger into your grip on his sullied robes. He cocked his head to the side, more interested in searching for grime he may have transferred onto his skin than your protests.
“My presence here is unsanitary and overstayed.” He took your fingers in his, gently prying your stubborn hold off his sleeve.
“Bathe then and come back.”
He held your attention as he slowly circled you, backing up until he put himself between you and the door. Izuna continued to gingerly hold your hand as if keeping his touch on you would prevent you from acting recklessly. His lips quirked to the side at your notion, and unlike his older brother, who you could read like an open book, Izuna remained as composed as ever.
“Your attempts to deceive me into disclosing information about the military ventures of the clan are admirable, but I am not so easily fooled.” He gave your hand a soft squeeze.
“As if I would dare attempt to trick you—” You could barely speak the full sentence without your lips crinkling in guilt. Izuna’s cheeks creased, forming deep dimples on both sides of his mouth. He slowly released your hand.
“I will be right outside.”
“We hardly spend time together anymore. Do you remember our expeditions into the forest when we were children?” you trailed off. “Before all that happened…” Izuna suddenly formed an air of seriousness about him.
Izuna was the only one you told about your encounter with Tobirama— or, more precisely— that Tobirama had been the one to attack you. The feud between the Uchiha and the Senju had raged for generations, but confrontations rarely left the battlefield as the two large clans carved up territory. So when a warrior in training from the Senju attacked an unarmed Uchiha girl, the clan was outraged.
You left willingly to the coast with family and a few others. Although, given that the art of fishing knots was passed down matrilineally, this wasn’t out of the ordinary.
You were told it was to practice a protection ritual in the salty waters and lend your hands to bringing in fresh, coastal resources, but a deep part of you knew that the clan leaders worried about the Senju targeting young girls. And if any resource was more valuable to the Uchiha than salted fish or powdered shells, it was the upcoming generation of young women, for who would bear the next generation of Uchiha warriors otherwise?
In the wake of the Senju raid on the village, your relationship with Tobirama weighed heavily on you, blanketing your head and shoulders as his fur had for too many nights by the river.
Izuna seemed like the right person to tell.
You masked it as a realization. He only asked you how you knew Tobirama had been the one to attack you so long ago. Your response was vague, but Izuna didn’t push.
“It would not be wise of me to overstay.” His voice was gentle when he finally spoke. His light tone snapped you from the rabbit hole of memories that instantly plagued your head. Izuna backed up to the door, his fingers pressing into the wood. The flames that topped your simple candles wavered, but Izuna’s eyes didn’t budge from yours. He looked at you with a soft certainty. “I will be right outside.”
“Izuna—” You took a step forward but stopped short. His brows perked up slightly on his forehead as he let out a light hum. He held the door slightly ajar. “I—” Your words left you under the subtle pressure of Izuna’s gaze. You toyed with the seam of your robes but kept your attention locked with his. “Madara still fancies me.”
It was meant to be a question, but the words left your lips definitively, almost like an accusation. Izuna’s expression didn’t change, and his forced stoicism only served to confirm your hunch. The corners of your lips fell with your shoulders.
You turned with a snap, facing the counter behind you. You gripped the wooden ledge, intending to find something to make you look busy, but to no avail. Izuna continued to stand with the door ajar, unmoving.
“Why is it always about what Madara wants?” you puffed. Silence overtook the apothecary. The flames continued to waver. “It is true. You are far too loyal, Izuna. Do you not know of such things?”
The door creaked farther open before stopping. You refused to turn around, even as the back of your neck and back began to feel heated by the imaginary gaze that haunted your curiosity.
You took a breath, tilting your head toward a large jar on one of your shelves. You could just barely make out Izuna’s figure as he stood in the doorway, not wholly committed to facing fully away from you.
“I will be right outside until you are prepared to retire.”
The wooden door creaked quietly open before swinging closed, wavering in the night.
Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.
Author Commentary: Timeskiiip! They're all grown up! When I was writing this fic I imagined it like how they reintroduce all the nostalgic characters in a Pirates of the Caribbean movie. That's it, moving forward imagine Foul Creature of the set of pirates! That will certainly work! Tobirama may not be in this chapter, but rest assured this is still a Tobirama fic.
More importantly: In my experience, I always thought that people didn't like when series were, say, more than 5ish chapters. I found that a lot of people lost interest, so I tried to keep chapters themselves long and the quantity of them to a minimum. In my latest poll, most people didn't have a preference, but after that, people liked multiple shorter chapters. I wanted to wrap this series up in 2-4 long chapters, but maybe I'll drag it out a bit so I can post more frequently. Thoughts?
@gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake
Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII
#Tobirama x reader#Tobirama senju x reader#Madara x reader#Madara uchiha x reader#Tobirama#naruto#naruto x reader#Tobirama senju#Madara uchiha#x reader#x you#reader insert#naruto x y/n#naruto x you#naruto fanfic#naruto founders#uchiha madara#senju tobirama#izuna x reader#izuna uchiha#uchiha izuna
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Harder
Frank Castle x implied F!Reader (no body parts are mentioned)
Summary: Frank opens the door to find you unusually quiet and needy.
WC: 2,1k // Explicit 🔞
Warning/Tags: pretty much PWP - sex as stress relief
Read on AO3
Gif from my lovely @darlingshane 🧡
Frank was sitting at the small coffee table in the living room area of his tiny apartment and cleaning the neatly aligned row of handguns lying on it, when there was a soft knock on the door. His hands stopped assembling the gun he had just finished cleaning, while his head turned towards the sound with a frown. Scarcely any people knew where he lived, meaning that anyone calling on him, especially that late in the day, was making all his senses go into high alert. Finishing assembling the gun within the next two seconds, Frank slid a magazine into it with an audible click. Not caring that he was only wearing a pair of jeans, he stood and slowly made his way to the door. He pointed the gun at it, while reaching for the handle with his other hand, letting it hover there as he looked through the peephole. As soon as he recognized you, Frank let out a long breath as the tension fled his body and lowered the gun to let it dangle at his thigh. The frown returned a second later as he realized that you barely ever came to his place. Usually, it was him who was coming to you and not the other way around. He much preferred it that way, not wanting you to be here if someone decided to hunt him down. Something must be up for you to show up here.
Downcast eyes and a shuttered face met him as he opened the door, although your eyes lifted to him as soon as you’d noticed the door opening.
“Hey,” Frank rasped, his voice rough since he’d barely spoken at all today, spending it trailing some crime lord on his own.
“Hey,” you replied, no real inflection in your tone as you shifted on your feet. Your eyes did, however, take in his half naked body and remained on his chest for a while before you looked into his face again.
Frank leaned against the door-frame with a shoulder as he waited for you to say something. He didn’t bother hiding the gun, since you knew exactly what he did for a living. You didn’t even glance in its direction. Just as he wanted to finally ask if something was wrong, you stepped into his space and wrapped your arms around his waist, sliding your hands up and to his shoulders, the fingers digging into his skin. His free arm automatically wrapped around you as you pressed your forehead to his shoulder with a deep sigh. Frank took several steps backwards to pull you into the apartment and shut the door. Quickly depositing the gun on the small shelf standing next to the entrance, Frank then used the same hand to run the fingers along the back of your neck and into your hair.
“You a’right?” he asked against your temple.
“Needed to see you,” you breathed.
Frank stared ahead of him as he took in your words, completely aware that you didn’t reply to his question and that you used the word needed and not wanted. It was the first time that he saw you behave like that. Your lives were complete opposites, with him working in the shadows while you were dealing with a regular job. Only weird circumstances and a common acquaintance had thrown you together some day. You’d just clicked. Frank had enjoyed your easy-going attitude and acceptance of what he did, and things had turned physical after a while as well. No strings attached. That was why he was so surprised by your behavior. You sometimes ranted or groused about things that annoyed you, but he’d never seen you this… quiet.
Before Frank could try to pry further into the reasons behind your presence, you let go of his torso and sank to your knees in front of him. Your knees had barely made contact with the hard floor that you pressed your face into one side of his V-line before sliding your tongue out to lick a path to his happy trail. As taken aback as he was by your actions, Frank’s body instantly reacted to your touch, meaning that he was already half hard by the time your fingers went to the fastenings of his jeans. It had been weeks since you’d been together as he’d been out of town, and your schedules just didn’t align. You didn’t exactly stay in contact. Not really. You sometimes texted or Frank showed up at your place and things would go from there. In any case, he didn’t stop you from tugging down his jeans and revealing his cock instantly since he’d forgone putting any underwear on, like he’d done with the shirt. If you needed him like this, he was happy to oblige you.
Not wasting any time, you curled your fingers around the shaft and pumped it a few times before taking the tip into your mouth. That definitely did the trick, and Frank was fully hard after a couple of passes of your tongue over the sensitive head. Through hooded eyes, Frank watched as you popped off his length to quickly remove the few items of clothing you had on, before sucking him back into your mouth as soon as you were fully naked. His nostrils flared as he held himself up with a hand on the door, only to groan when you reached for his other hand to place it at the back of your head. You gasped as his fingers combed through your hair, only to fist it a moment later. Something was definitely up with you because you usually enjoyed keeping eye contact while you went down on Frank, but you didn’t even glance up at him once while you bobbed your head back and forth. As much as Frank would have liked to tilt your head up for exactly that, he chose to respect your wish. He started thrusting into your mouth as well, since that was also clearly what you wanted, from how you put your hand over the one on your head again and squeezed it meaningfully. Despite you not wanting to look at him, Frank surely had no issues with taking each of your movements in, or letting his eyes travel over your naked form.
“Lookin’ so fuckin’ pretty like that, Sweetheart,” he growled, as he pumped his hips at a quicker pace for a few thrusts.
He grunted as you moaned around him.
You let go of him, panting as you regained your breath, and stood. Your hand went to his nape to pull his mouth to yours, your tongue licking into his mouth with intent. Frank had barely the time to put his hands on your hips before you moved away from him again after breathing, “Fuck me, Frank.” against his lips.
He turned with you as you sidestepped him to head to the couch and lean over the armrest. You held yourself up with your elbows and waited for him. Frank didn’t move for a moment, his brow creasing again at your unusual actions. There wasn’t the usual seduction in your moves, no glance back at him with a flirty wink or teasing grin. You kept your face down, only your ass facing him. Slowly, Frank took the few steps that closed the distance between you and lifted a hand to trail his fingers from your ass and up to your nape. He saw as well as felt the shudder that ran through you at his touch, the reaction satisfying him. No matter what was currently going through your head, you’d sought him out. Needed his touch. He could do this for you. Like everything you might ever ask of him.
As he put the crown against your entrance, he found you more than ready for him, proof that you truly wanted this. He watched himself sink inside you slowly, relishing in the tight heat of your body and the way your breath rushed out of you the deeper he went. You hung your head as he finally bottomed out, and groaned while pushing back against his pelvis, visibly wanting to make sure that he was all the way inside you. Drawing out again, Frank gave you a few shorter thrusts before filling you all the way once more. He started with a lazy rhythm, only making sure to slide inside fully with every pass.
“Harder,” you ground out, pushing your hips back in counterpoint with his.
Frank obeyed and began upping the pace as his hips gently slapped against your ass. You moaned, but he saw you shaking your head after a minute.
“Harder,” you repeated, voice louder as you moved against him, intending to show him what you wanted.
Taking hold of your hips with both of his hands, Frank grunted as snapped his own forward into you sharply. You cried out, your moans growing louder with his thrust, your body going with the motion of Frank’s movements. Frank knew that you weren’t done the second he saw your fist clench on the side of the pillow.
“Harder, Frank. Fuck me harder!” you shouted, your voice high with some kind of anger that had Frank’s own temper rising.
Leaning his large body over yours, Frank grabbed you by the nape and forced your upper body down until you had your cheek resting against the couch pillow, a whimper of need escaping you at the action.
“Like this?” he almost snarled against your ear as he pulled all the way out and slammed into you with a force that had the whole couch skidding a few inches forward.
Frank didn’t give you the opportunity to reply with actual words, since he reared back to grab one side of your hips again while keeping his other hand on your neck and fuck into you with brutal force. The only sounds coming from you were blissed out noises as Frank finally gave you what you so desperately craved from him. If being manhandled was what you needed, Frank was happy to deliver. He watched you avidly as pleasure filled sounds kept leaving your panting mouth, your expression of utter ecstasy having him give you everything he had to satisfy you completely. Not like he minded, since seeing you like this, needing to relinquish all control to him, only made his own pleasure sharper.
“That what you wanted from me, baby? Fuck you so good ‘n hard until you forget everythin’?” Frank asked as he lowered himself over you again, the hand on your nape sliding to the front until his fingers were wrapped around your throat.
Like before, you didn’t reply verbally as only mewls of pleasure greeted his ears, but Frank didn’t need an answer. He knew he was right. Knew the feeling all too well himself. The absolute trust you put in him was humbling and turning him on at the same time.
As Frank kept pounding away inside you, it was your quivering legs and fluttering walls around his cock that announced your climax to him. It was only confirmed by your cry of utter bliss and the repetition of Frank’s name a moment later. Frank stayed in the same position over you, except that he had his forehead against the back of your head as he let your orgasm slam through you. His thrusts never faltered, despite how tightly you were squeezing around him, until he finally shoved into you one last time, his hips pressing against your ass, as he came inside you with a sharp expletive.
Frank panted against your head for several seconds before he straightened again after pressing a light kiss into your nape. He carefully pulled out and put his half hard dick back into his jeans. Observing you carefully for a while as you kept breathing quickly and didn’t move, Frank finally stroked a hand over your back. You did react to his touch, and slowly lifted off the couch with trembling arms. Frank sat on the couch and watched you plop down next to him. With an exhausted sigh, you heavily leaned against him and closed your eyes. Frank extended his arm along the couch to wrap it around your shoulders and pull you closer still. He felt you smile against his chest, which made one appear on his face as well, as you finally seemed to return to your usual self. His eyes automatically went to yours as he noticed you lifting your head to seek his gaze. The eye contact had him smiling softly and raking his fingers through your hair. He chuckled as you closed your eyes with a content expression. You returned his smile after opening your eyes again, but didn’t speak as you leaned back against him. You didn’t need to. He might not know what triggered tonight’s events, but he was happy to be there whenever you needed him to get you out of your own head.
#frank castle x reader#reader insert#Frank Castle fanfiction#the punisher#jon bernthal#the punisher fanfiction#frank castle smut#PWP
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Potential TW ::: Difficulty conceiving. & for my vomit-sensitive friends, here's a mildly changed version: PUKE FREE EDIT
A/N ::: I am so tired tonight that this was not super proofed. This was an ask that came via my messages. They wanted a story with the spicy and the sweet parts of Kats & F.reader tryin' for a baby. I hope it has all the elements you wanted and that you like it!
C/W ::: Aged up Kats x f.reader, several mentions of vomiting & other facial fluids being discharged (snot, tears, puke). Oral M->F Quite a bit of P->V. Lovey dovey stuff, sweet moments between 2 people who just want a freakin' baby. Ok? 😭
WC ::: 4,923 (Jesus christ, I'm so sorry. This totally got away from me and I don't even know how.)
"Hey babe, it's me." Katsuki said in his usual growly voice. "I guess you're still at work or somethin'. Anyway, I'll be home tomorrow night. Also, I'been holdin' back. So, be ready for me. I love you, call me if ya want."
Katsuki was out of town on a job. He's been gone for almost a week now, the longest you two have been apart since you got married, almost 2 years ago. You missed him, sure. But when he came home, stomping through the entryway, yelling for you, it was the best feeling to be wrapped up in his arms and smooshed into his chest.
The two of you have been leaving yourselves open to having a baby for about 4 months now. It hasn't been constant trying, but the longer it goes that you're not getting pregnant, the more you feel like you're needing to take this more seriously. You started reading up on the most productive positions to get the result you're looking for, studying what you can do before and after you do the deed. How to check your basal temperature. When doctor intervention becomes more than a discussion and an absolute necessity.
The phone beeps, alerting you to your missed call and voicemail. "What ... oh, damn it." You listen to the message Katsuki left you and couldn't help the soft pink blush that spread over your face and chest. No man had ever made you feel the way he has. You had been pretty reserved until he helped you tap into your inner slutty girl. It sounds bad, but you've not looked back once since he brought you out of your little sexual shell. And why should you? Every time you're with him you swear it's the best sex you've ever had. Point being, you got really lucky to have him love you and be able to love him.
Pushing #1 on speed dial, you hear the other line ringing and start praying to whatever gods would listen to you that he'd answer his phone.
"Hey brat. Y'ignorin' me now or some shit like that? The fuck ya think ya are?" You could hear him choke out a laugh. The background noise was almost louder than he was.
"You know it, you caught me. Trying to ignore you. What're you gonna do about it?" You giggled when you heard his breath hitch in his throat. Your voice got low and breathy, "You gonna punish me, hm? Good luck catching me, Kats."
The phone crackled a few times before you heard him, "Hey! Y'there? Babe!? Goddamn it, this shit ass fuc---" and then you heard nothing.
"K-Kats? Hello? Are you ... are you there? Oh." You tossed the phone on the couch and pouted. "Things were just about to get good, too." You whined to the cat. But you knew they didn't care. They were Kats' anyway. They merely tolerated you until they were hungry and then they were your biggest fan.
A chime rang out into the quiet room and you pounced on it. A text from Katsuki, "Sorry, shit reception here. I'll try to call you from the hotel later. XXX"
It was about 6pm. Too early for bed, too late to go anywhere. So you curled up on the couch and watched your wedding video. You laughed and cried about how stupid you felt for missing him so much. He's only been gone a week and he'll be home tomorrow. Less than 24 hours and you would be together again.
You woke up to the sun forcing its way through the edges of the window coverings. "He's coming home today! He ... is finally coming home today!" A contented sigh heaved its way from your chest as you stood and stretched the uncomfortable position you slept in from your body. And then immediately a wave of nausea washed over you. "The f-," you covered your mouth and ran to the bathroom. Lifting the toilet lid, you took pause and started praying that you wouldn't puke. "Mmm ..." Your eyes roamed to the bathroom cupboard. The nausea faded and soon your body followed your eyes' lead and you started to crawl to open the door and pull out a pregnancy test.
You peed on the plastic receptacle and set the timer you'd bought specially for the bathroom, only to hurry up and wait for the next 3 minutes.
"Oh." You tried so hard not to let yourself get wrapped up in the hope that all of your fun and hard work had finally paid off. But it still hurt. It always hurt. It was a relief though, that Katsuki wasn't here to have to go through this again. He always somehow got more excited than you at the prospect of you becoming parents. 'There's plenty uh’time, ma,' he always says to you whenever the result is another negative.
It would be several hours before he'd be home, so you put yourself together and set out to grocery shop. You decided to stop by your favorite little boutique and look around at the lingerie. Maybe that would help cheer you up and raise moral to romp around with your husband. You laughed at the stupid thought. It was always fun to be with Katsuki.
You managed to knock all of your tasks out in a couple of hours and drove home to get stuff put away. You still wanted to shower, put on the new lingerie you bought and figure out what to do for dinner. Take-out was calling your name tonight.
In the shower, you started to think about how much you loved Katsuki. And a familiar, warm, tingly feeling started to bloom in the pit of your stomach. Unconsciously, you began rubbing your thighs together trying to alleviate the pressure - however pleasant it might be - building there. It was a dangerous game you were playing here. If you rubbed them too much, you know you'd get beyond frustrated and have to take care of this on your own. And there was nothing you wanted more than for him to be the one to alleviate this pent up tension in your body. Seeing as he was the one causing it, it only seemed fair.
Hurrying to finish washing up, you managed to get out of there with only a little bit of lingering agitation. Perhaps agitation was too strong a word. But you missed him so much there was no other word you could think of to replace it.
All wrapped up in a towel, you went to your room and looked over the clothes you had laid out for tonight. The dress you chose was newer, you picked it up a month or so ago, but haven't had the chance to wear it. It’s so new that he hasn't even seen it on you. The lingerie was a strappy black 1 piece and it looked so confusing to you. But you wanted to look nice for him. You knew he would love it for the whole 30 seconds it was on you before he tore it off. Yet you couldn't help but feel a little bit nervous about his homecoming.
It all felt so new to you for some strange reason.
His Jeep pulled into the driveway and your heart all but stopped beating. Your face got hot and you felt like you were going to puke again. "Jesus, calm yourself, y/n. You're married for Christ's sake. Have been for over 2 years. He is your husband. He already loves you." But you didn't believe a word you said to yourself.
You ran to the bedroom to take one last quick glance at your appearance. Smoothing down the dress at your stomach, you noticed it didn't sit quite like it did when you first bought it. You just chalked it up to a little bit of stress eating with Katsuki being gone, and you trying to stay cool about (not) getting pregnant. It just caught up to you. No matter. He's home.
The front door opened and you heard his heavy footsteps. Music to your ears. "Babe? 'M home. Get yer ass ov-", You peeked your head out of the bedroom and gave him a sassy smile. "There you are, fuck, missed you so much. Don't move." He tossed his keys onto the kitchen table and walked toward you like he was hunting you. Like if he moved to quickly you'd get startled and run away from him. Little did he know that it would take a lot more than him running at you to make you even flinch.
"I missed you too, Kats. So much." You whispered as he got closer. He reached out for you and pulled you flush against him, his mouth immediately finding yours. His lips were so soft and warm and he smelled so good. You couldn't resist the urge to kiss him deeper, and you let your tongue brush his bottom lip. He growled and held you tighter.
"Fuck, y’taste so good. Yer gonna kill me. I can't wait for you any longer. All of you. Every part of you." He kissed your cheek and then your ear, sucking the lobe into his mouth and tugging on it with his teeth. You moaned and ground your hips into his. The sensation of his hardness rubbing against you made you ache with need.
"Oh God. Please. I need you so much." Every brush of his fingers against your body left a trail of raised, peach fuzz hairs in their wake. You were panting now, trying to catch your breath from his lips on your skin. He pulled back and looked at you, his eyes shining with love and lust. "I love you so much, babe."
"I love you too, Katsuki." Your voice was breathy and quiet, almost like you were afraid to say it.
He leaned in and kissed you again, this time with more heat and intensity. His hands found their way to your ass and he squeezed, eliciting a whimper from your lips. "Let's go to bed." He grabbed your hand and led you to the bedroom.
You walked in and he pushed you onto the bed. You squealed and giggled as you bounced. He stood over you and started to unbutton his shirt. His abs and pecs were on display for you. You couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his muscles moving as he shrugged his shirt off his shoulders. He moved to unbuckle his belt and you got a little nervous. He was so hot and you felt like you couldn't keep up with him. But he always managed to make you feel like the most beautiful woman on earth.
As he took his pants off, you got up and stood in front of him so he could unzip the dress. "You make this dress look so fuckin' beautiful, babe. Goddamn. So sexy. But y'know, 's much as I love this, 'm dying to see what's underne- Hoh fuck. Th- you- fuck that's hot. This new?" He asked as he covered his mouth with his right hand and shook his head slowly.
"You like it?" You blushed hard.
"Do I fuckin' like it. C'mere. Fuckin' c'mere and I'll show you just how much I like it." He pulled you close and kissed your lips, your neck, your chest. You could feel him hard and throbbing against your lower stomach. It was driving you wild.
He turned you around and began to kiss your shoulders. He moved the straps of the lingerie down and bit your skin gently. "Ah! Katsuki, please. Please touch me. I need you."
"Patience. G’na take my time with you. Got about 6 days to make up for, darlin'. Lemme have this. Lemme have you."
He turned you back around and kissed you deeply. He held you close and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. "I am so glad you're home, Kats." You whispered while you pulled him to the bed.
You laid there and let him take over, let him do what he wanted. And what he wanted was to drive you crazy. He kissed every inch of your body, making sure to pay extra attention to your most sensitive parts.
"You work out this week or somethin'?" He asked between kissing your hot skin. He moved down to your belly. "Fuck, you're just so ..." he growled against your skin as he breathed you in. "Your tits look fantastic. You're so ... gah ... I dunno. You're just so soft." He ran his hands over your curves and squeezed your hips.
You pulled his hair and guided him to your core. "Katsuki, need ... need your mouth." He obliged and licked a stripe up your slit, his tongue pressing firmly against your clit and you jumped back. "Hohmygod, Kats! Fuck!!"
"S'sensitive for me," he dove back in and started to suck on your clit, swirling his tongue around it and then flattening it and moving it side to side, "Fumkin' lub et." You felt like you were going to burst. The feeling was overwhelming and you felt yourself get close to the edge faster than you could ever remember.
"Katsu- kugh, ohmygod, I'm gonna ... I'm gonna ..." You grabbed his head and pushed him further into you. He moaned and his hands dug into your thighs as he kept working your swollen cunt.
"Cum for me, baby. Show me how fuckin’ hard y’can cum for me. Lemme see that pretty pussy cum for me." He moved back down and started sucking and licking your clit again, his fingers sliding inside you and hitting that spot you love so much.
Your whole body tensed up and you felt yourself explode all over his fingers and tongue. "Katsuki!!!" You screamed and bucked your hips against his face, chasing your orgasm. You could feel him smiling against your skin as you rode out your pleasure against his face and hands. You didn't know what you were rubbing yourself against but there was no part of you that could stop it from happening.
"G'girl. Fuck, you taste s'good, babe. Kinda diff’rent. More tart. Lemony." He kissed your thigh and then crawled up to kiss you. "Gonna fuck a baby into you now." He smiled down at you, much more sweetly than his intentions actually were and held your legs open so he could slide himself inside you.
"Mmmm, yes ... please, want you … in me." You whined as he started to push himself in. He was big, you were used to it. But tonight you needed a minute or two to adjust to his size. It felt like you were clenching down on him, almost purposely. Making it more difficult for him to push himself entirely inside of you.
"Jesus fuck, you sure you weren't doing some pussy push-ups r'somethin'? You're so tight, babe. Feels so fuckin' good. But … Jesus."
You couldn't control your laughter at him calling kegel exercises 'pussy push-ups'. It was so stupid, but it made you feel warm and loved that he cared enough to notice things like that. "I've been practicing, yeah." You smirked and he leaned in and kissed you again.
"Good. So fuckin' good. Now, g'na fuck you 'til you can't stand it. I'm gonna cum in that hot pussy and make you the sexiest ma on the face of the planet." He growled against your lips as he started to move inside you.
You lost track of time and your body just reacted to him. He was rough and tender. Everything you needed and more. The two of you singing this song of moans in unison sounded better than any of your favorite songs ever had. His grunts and growls filled the room, as he fucked you harder and harder, so too, did your moaning and muttering of how good he felt get louder.
"Kats ... gonna cum again. Pleasepleaseplease ... you gotta cum first! It w- oh god - it works better if you cum first ... I think! Hurry up!" You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him deeper into you. You could feel your walls tightening and pulsating around his cock and it was the most exquisite feeling.
"Bah, fuck, I'm close babe. Gonna fill you up so good. Fuck, gonna fill you up with my cum." He grabbed your legs and pushed them back so your knees were against your chest and your ankles were at his ears. He held onto the back of your legs and pounded into you with all the strength he had left in him.
"Yesyesyes! Katsuki! Cum in me!" You were on the edge of your orgasm and you couldn't hold it at bay any longer. You felt the hot wetness of his seed filling you up and you let yourself go, your pussy clenched around his cock.
He stayed inside you for a minute or two, panting and kissing your forehead. Droplets of sweat fell from his face to yours. It was disgustingly intimate. You had never felt closer to him. Physically or emotionally.
"I love you." He whispered, his breath warm against your skin.
"I love you." You whispered back.
And with that, he rolled off of you and snuggled up against your back, his hand resting on your stomach. The two of you fell asleep a short time later. Still happily tangled up in one another.
The next morning you awoke to Katsuki gently rolling his cock against your ass. You turned your head as best you could to see him, but when you managed to, you saw that he was still fast asleep. It didn't diminish the arousal that began to creep its way through your body, though.
You rolled over and kissed his face, whispering sweet nothings to him as you tried to wake him. "Kaaats, you wanna go again?" Running your hand down his chest and stomach, stopping about halfway down his happy trail, he opened his eyes slowly and gave you a half smile that looked so sexy on him.
"Mornin' babe. Wha' was I doin'?" He asked, looking down at his erection. "Ah. Was havin' a really ... really good dream 'bout you. Wan' me to show ya what we were doin'?" He flopped onto his back and pulled you on top of him so you were straddling his waist. "Y'so fuckin' wet already. Damn woman. You could put out a fire with that pussy. Hm-hm. Let's start one first though, yeah?" His hands dug into the plush of your hips and pushed/pulled you over him.
Your cunt wrapped so perfectly around him made him let out the most guttural of moans that caused you to clench around nothing. But he felt it and moaned again. It was becoming a vicious little cycle: He'd moan, your body would react, so on and so forth.
He pulled you up, grabbing underneath your ass and lifted you so you were hovering just over his cock. You rolled your head forward to look at him as you slid down, putting just the head inside of you.
"Don't be a fuckin' tease." He growled at you and tried to pull you down, his cock twitching at the denial of the possibility of complete envelopment. "Fucking hell, you're so bratty. Gonna make you pay for this," he laughed.
"Sorry, can't hear you over how good just the head of your cock feels while I'm bouncin' on it." You smirked at him as you wiggled your hips side to side.
He reached up and grabbed your neck, pulling you down to him as he thrust up into you. "I said, don't be a fucking tease," he hissed out through a clenched jaw.
You felt your eyes roll back and your body tense up as he filled you completely. It was almost too much to handle. "Katsu ... ki ... ah, fu-ughh, fuck! Don't stop!" You couldn't hold on anymore. You ground your hips against him as you came, your pussy fluttering and gripping his cock so tightly he couldn't help but follow you over the edge.
All of a sudden, you stopped riding out the last waves of your orgasm. Sitting on top of him still, you put your hand over your mouth and you looked down at him with pure panic in your eyes. "Hmph ..." you shook your head when he asked if you were ok. "Hmphhuh," you gagged again. He helped you off of him and all but dragged your post-o, jellied, naked body to the bathroom and lifted the lid on the toilet for you.
"Y'fuckin' sick'er somethin', babe? Got the flu? What the hell's goin' on?" His brows furrowed and he scowled at you. You knew it was out of concern, not frustration.
You shook your head, trying to compose yourself after something so icky. Hating yourself for doing this right now. Right after such an intimate moment. While he was standing there, staring at you. Puking your guts out. Naked. "Don' knoooohhhh fuck, leave, Kats. Get out! Ple-!"
He squatted down next to you and held your hair back with his right hand and rubbed your back with his left. "'M not fuckin' leavin' you. Not for pukin', not for fuckin' nothin'. Y'fuckin' hear me? Better or worse. Sickness and health and all that other shit. Just shut up and finish. 'L be right here for ya."
The amount of fluid that left your face was disgusting. You'd never had such floodgates open like this before. Puking, crying, snot running from your nose. You were an actual mess. But he stood by you through all of it.
"Hey, babe ... d'ya ... ah shit. D'ya think yer pregnant?" Katsuki asked as you stood from the floor, moving slowly toward the sink to wash your face off. The sparkle in his eyes was undeniable. And it killed you that you had to tell him you weren't.
You leaned over the sink, your face in your hands, and started crying. "I ... oh, Kats. I'm ... I'm not. I took a test a couple of days ago. I didn't w-", his hands on your back silenced you. They were, to date, the most important hands in the world to you. They were strong. They were soft and warm and they are all encompassing. If there were any kind of god, you would live out the rest of your days under his hands.
"Why didn't you tell me? I don't want you carryin’ this all by yourself, y/n. What we don't succeed in doing together, we share the hardships and overcome that ... together. I'm so sorry, babe. I'm sorry I was gone for so long. I shouldn'ta left ya for so long." He spoke to you so quietly. Like his words would be the thing that finally throws you over the edge. The thing that finally breaks you.
"Maybe I ate something." You ran your forearm across your dry lips and hobbled back to the bed to bury yourself in the blankets. "I'm sorry, Kats. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I won't do that again, promise." He walked over to you and sat down on the edge and brushed the hair from your face.
"G'na get you some 7-up 'n a cold washcloth. Be right back, babe." You watched him walk out of the bedroom and turn down the hallway. His butt jiggling ever so slightly. It made you smile. And it made you feel something else.
"The hell ...?" You sat up in bed and realized that you were horny. Again. Katsuki came back a minute later with what he promised you. Something to drink and a cold, wet cloth for you to put on your face. Smiling as he handed you this stuff, you pulled him in close to you and kissed him on the cheek all the way down to his neck.
"Oh, babe. Yer jus' so ... hah. No matter what. Even with your hair matted to your face and your eyes puffy and red. I love you." He leaned over and kissed your forehead.
"Don't say it." You smiled at him. It was almost like you knew what he was going to say. And you couldn't bear to hear it. Not right now. You had no idea where you two stood in that department. You weren't ready to admit that to each other. Not yet. Not right now.
He smiled back and laid down next to you, spooning you from behind. He ran his hand along your waist and stomach, over and over. It was relaxing. And it was a little bit arousing, but you managed to keep yourself at bay. You had just thrown up, after all.
"I'm sorry, Kats. I'm sorry I can't give us the baby we want. I'm sorry I'm so fucking broken." You choked on your words as tears started to well in your eyes. "I'm so sorry."
He shifted behind you and held you tighter. "Babe, you're not broken. 'Sides, who says it ain't me? Maybe we should make a doctors appointment, yeah? Get my count tested and all that shit. Whatcha say?"
You sniffed and wiped your face with the washcloth. It felt good against your hot face. "You - Kats, you'd do that? You'd have your sperm count checked?" Rolling over to face him, you took his face in your hands and held it there while the two of you just stared at each other.
"Fuckin' never said I wouldn't! Course I will. 'F we ever wanna get to the bottom of this, we hafta explore every possibility, right?" He ran a rough finger along your cheek to collect the freshly fallen tears and wipe them on the sheets. You made an ick face at him and he told you to pipe down, they need to be changed anyway after the night you two just had on them.
***
A couple of weeks past and he had his appointment with the fertility specialist where they ran a count on Kats. They called and said his sperm was 'abnormally high and active'. Their exact words were, "We have never seen anything like it in our careers." He didn't shut up about it for 3 days.
This left you in a fog. Surely, you were the reason you two couldn't conceive. It made you feel like absolute shit. No matter what he said to you, it didn't lift the guilt you were trying to carry all on your own. You thought he shouldn't have to hurt when he wasn't the problem. This complex was exhausting you and you could feel yourself slipping deeper into sadness.
You went to the clinic at the end of the day that Friday, the last appointment they had for the week. They drew your blood and told you they would be in touch on Monday or Tuesday about the next step after they had a chance to evaluate the sample for any obvious
It was Saturday morning and you were both sitting on the back porch eating breakfast when your phone rang. "It's the clinic, Kats. You answer. I don't want to talk to them. They probably found a plastic bag where my uterus is supposed to be." You pushed your phone across the little glass tabletop and got up, carrying the dishes into the kitchen to wash them off.
"Yeah babe, on it. Hello? N-no. You're trying to reach Bakugou? Well, shit. Yeah. That's me, I mean ... I'm her husband, Katsuki. Yes! The man with incredible sperm!" He laughed, you cringed. "Wait, what? No, that's not ... I mean ...," his voice got quiet and he got up, walking across the yard to mess with a fence piece.
You watched him out there fiddle with the broken wooden slat and felt your heart breaking into even smaller pieces. "Fuck." You whispered, looking down at the tiny bubbles popping on the soaking dishes. A tear dripped from your chin and landed on your chest, darkening a spot on your gray Dynamight shirt.
Katsuki came walking into the kitchen and came over to you, putting his hands on your shoulders, he turned you to face him. "Hey, ma?" Getting down on his knees, he put his hands on your waist and smooshed his face into your tummy. "Ma?"
"Are you having a fucking stroke or something? What are you doing, dumbass?" You wiped your chin and huffed out a short, insincere laugh. "Kats, what did - what'd they say. Is it me? Am I ..."
"Yes, babe. It's you. It's you … and the little grenade you're carrying. You're ... we're ... having a baby, y/n. You're fuckin' pregnant." He beamed up at you, tears in his wide eyes.
"It's you, babe. You and me. And … and … and a little us in you. We did it, y/n. We're gonna have a family!"
You covered your mouth with your hands and cried. Not just a few tears, but a full-on ugly cry. You were going to be a mom. Katsuki was going to be a dad. And this was just the beginning of your lives as a family.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe in us. I'm sorry I let myself think for a second that it wouldn't be us. Us. Just us. I'm so happy it's us." You bent over and kissed his forehead. He stood and wrapped you in his arms and you both just stood there letting this new beautiful reality sink in.
The future was yours and yours alone … well, and Kats’ and the babies, of course.
Taglist ::: @dreamcastgirl99 @viburnt @arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82
#my hero academia#mha#bnha#katsuki bakugou#bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki smut#bakugou smut#mha bakugou#katsudad#dadsuki#katsuki x reader#katsuki x you#katsuki x y/n#bakugo x reader#bakugo katsuki x reader
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Time is but a paper moon
Summary:
Never step into the forest. That was the first lesson. Taught to all the village children as soon as they were old enough to learn and listen at the feet of the Elders. Most of them did, too frightened by the whispered tales of those who dwelled amongst the trees and called the forest home.
Some did not.
A/N; nothing really, and I hope you like this :) I'm sorry this has taken so long too!
Word Count: 3.9k
Warnings: mature themes, somewhat dark!Aemond, pining, angst, p in v sex, fey/fair folk references, use of she/her pronouns.
Taglist:
@aemondx @sylasthegrim @bottlesandbarricades @helaelaemond @arcielee @lexwolfhale @orcaunionleader @barbieaemond
The forest around her was as silent as death, the ground saturated from the rain that had fallen the night before in fat, heavy drops that had beat into the dirt, leaving behind both the rich earthy scent and the promise of more.
At this time, when the sun had not even risen yet and tendrils of fog weaved in between the ferns and other plants like serpents, it was still, so quiet one could hear a pin drop, the only audible sound the leaves underfoot as she weaved through the dense thick brush, wincing every time a bramble or a thorn caught at her cloak or scratched over her skin.
There was a danger here. She could feel it in her bones, like an animal lurking in the underbrush hunting its prey. But it was one she cared little about, not when this was the only place the plants she needed like sage and mint and St. John's Wort grew in abundance.
And so she brushed off the concerns of the elders, promising to stay away with only one thought on her mind.
What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.
Her fingers have barely brushed the edge of a leaf when the crack and snap of someone stepping on a branch came from a distance behind her, cutting loudly through the early morning quiet. She stiffened, letting her fingers fall to her sides as she stood up, wary and alert as she turned around to face whatever was behind her.
Her eyes widened when it was not an animal like she expected, but a man.
Tall and lean, he stood beside one of the trees, monochromatic and dark against the earthy colors, his face half cloaked in shadow as he stood with his back to her. Pushing down her growing unease, she squared her shoulders, letting her voice carry over the distance. "Who are you?"
He twisted at the sound of her voice, surprise briefly flashing across his face before his expression shuttered, shifting into something haughty and cold and foreboding.
She was more than thankful for the distance, barely hiding the brief widening of her eye and the low gasp she let out at the sight of the dark square of leather on the left side of his face.
Her eyes moved over him from head to toe and back, lingering on the pretty, angular curve of his face. Wraith-like shadows seemed to cling to him like a second skin, hiding something dangerous carefully concealed behind the sharp lines of his face.
His eye narrowed, almost as if he had heard her, an icy coldness settling over his expression the longer he held her gaze, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise. "Who are you?" he returned, looking like he wanted to devour her whole as he stared down at her.
The hem of his coat brushed his legs as he moved, keeping her within his line of sight as he paced back and forth in front of her warily, prowling around her in a circle like a fox hunting for its next meal.
She shifted on her feet, following his movement as the wetness of the grass began to seep onto her feet through the worn straps of her sandals as something deep inside her reared its head, the nagging fear that she should run and not look back.
Yet she didn’t, as if something kept her feet frozen to the ground beneath her. She knew this place like the back of her hand, knew every twisting path and yet she had never seen him before, this silver haired stranger in front of her.
He folded his hands behind his back as he stilled, leveling an impassive look at her. “Tell me,” he said suddenly, tilting his head to the side like a wolf. “What reason do you have for stepping foot into my forest?" he stopped, digging the heels of his boots into the dirt, gaze sharp as he watched her.
Indignation and fury welled white hot in her chest at his words as she scowled at him, forcibly biting the inside of her cheek to keep her anger at bay. “Your forest?” She bit out, shifting again as the quietness of the clearing was broken in sporadic bursts of wind carding through the trees.
“Last I was aware this forest belonged to no one.”
“Yes, my forest.” He didn’t sound amused as he lifted a brow, an almost cruel smile dancing across his lips. His hair, as pale as moonlight, slipped over his shoulders, some of the strands woven into thin braids. “Well?”
"I need herbs,” she said as she gestured behind her. “My supply has run low."
His brow dropped, the sharp look in his eye diminishing slightly as he took in the plant behind her. "You are a healer." He observed, the tension in his shoulders lessening a hairsbreadth.
“I am,” she said cautiously as fear rolled in her stomach, heady and thick, nearly saturating her insides. “And who are you?”
All at once, his demeanor changed as the tension returned to him. "Foolish girl," he murmured, clicking his tongue. "Tis not a question you should ask." He crooned, shafts of light glinting off the pale, pointed ends of his ears.
"You're one of them," she breathed, the beating of her heart thunderously loud as it pounded in her ears. "A Fair Folk." Her fear returned, dredging up the old memories of her youth, spent with the other village children at the foot of the elders and the words of her mother.
Never trust the fae, child.
He made a low noise in the back of his throat before he spoke. "In simple terms, yes," his voice was soft, a contrast to the sharp cut lines of his face. He moved closer, the smell of leather and smoke and rain enveloping her completely. It was yet another detail setting him apart from her world and the scents she smelled daily and it was a more than welcome change from the harsh smells of the forge and the markets filled with spices.
She bit her lip before speaking again, her curiosity overpowering her. "What do they call you?"
“My name is not meant for the ears of a mortal,” he murmured quietly, mere inches from her now, so close where his breath fanned over her face as his knuckle brushed over the curve of her cheek. She shivered, the hairs on the back of her neck rising as his finger trailed lower, its path stilled by the plain clasp of her rough woolen cloak before he withdrew, letting his hand drop to his side again. "Lovely as you might be."
The skin at the back of her neck prickled, hairs rising at the way he dragged the words out, curling his tongue around the syllables. He leaned forward again, this time to brush a strand of hair back behind her ear. He seemed to take delight in her silence, toying with her like this was nothing but a source of amusement for him.
Between one breath and the next, he slipped behind her, lips brushing her ear. "What will you give me? If I let you go?" She sucked in a breath, heart thudding behind her ribs. She shuddered, more than aware of the almost inferno-like heat of him at her back. Her fingers twitched under the cloak, smothering the urge to reach for the blunt edged knife at her waist.
"I..." her tongue stuck dryly in her mouth, the sweet, bitter tang of the tarragon she’d eaten before she had ventured out lingering in the back of her mouth.
Nothing.
Anything.
He circled around her again, stopping in front of her again. “Foolish girl,” he began to laugh, a low cruel sound, shoulders shaking. “Learn to be more careful with what you say, mortal,” he rasped, a muscle twitching in his jaw as his gaze focused on her fisted hands, “There are monsters here. Ones who will not hesitate to hurt you.”
Fury welled in her chest at the mocking, almost insufferable way he said it, followed by an angry, indignant noise slipping from her mouth. A faint almost cruel half-smile lingered in the corners of his thin, pretty mouth.
Her teeth clacked together as her mouth closed. “You said-”
“I know what I said, and yet you were foolish enough to believe me.” A shiver crawled up her spine as ice flooded her veins, cursing herself for foolishly brushing aside all the warnings of the elders to never trust a Fae.
How foolish she’d been in thinking that he would be different. For as beautiful as they were, their nature would never change and they would always stay the same. Otherworldly and spiteful. Treacherous and cruel.
And he was no exception.
He is the farthest thing on her mind when the harvest comes a moon’s turn later, her days filled with clouds and rain and even less sun as the pale yellow green of the tree leaves darkened as summer came, bringing with it the yearly harvest and baskets filled to the brim with an assortment of fruit that had hung heavily from tree branches only days before, weighing them down so much the tips almost brushed the grass below.
"You came back."
"Of course I did." He stood hesitantly in the doorframe of her cottage, shoulders stooped slightly as his eye slid from corner to corner, taking scope of the sparsely furnished dwelling. He moved forward, sinking down as stiff as a board onto one of the chairs in front of the hearth.
She remembered their last interaction so clearly, how he had appeared in the same place again and again, like she was a beacon. How he had seemed to sense every time she set a foot just past the treeline. How she had been startled the next time he had slid from behind a tree with a smirk on his lips.
And as the days and weeks blurred by, she had grown used to his presence. To the low tones of his voice in her ear as he opened up to her as best he could, surrounded by nothing but the rustle of trees and the sounds of birds singing, still clinging to that same cold, aloof demeanor. He was as still as cruel and vicious as she remembered, but the more time that passed, seeing the undercurrent of something that was almost vulnerable.
“Might I see you again?” He’d stood stiffly, his arms folded behind his back. That same frigid icy stoicism was on his face, his eye focused on her with an intensity that was both solemn and enthralling.
The feelings that had begun to course through her veins the longer she held his gaze. “Of course.”
She twisted her hands together as she hovered on the side where he could see her. “I’ve missed you.”
He merely hummed as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his lips quirking upwards. She let out a shriek when one of his hands darted out to wrap around her wrist as he pulled her onto him, arm curling around her waist.
“Be still,” he grunted hoarsely, sounding more than a little strung out, his arm tightening around her waist. Her eyes flicked downwards, gaze stopping on where his other hand gripped the arm of the chair with whitened knuckles, hard enough to snap the aged wood.
The proximity to him was dizzying as the smoke and the almost earthy herbal note that clung to his clothes flowed over her. Seconds passed before she shifted, moving to stand, only to freeze again when he hissed under his breath, the sound reverberating against the side flush against him.
He didn’t let go of her as he stood, twisting a hand in the hair at the back of her neck as his mouth sought hers, his teeth nipping at her lip, the pads of his fingers digging into her sides.
She shuddered, moaning against his mouth as she dug her nails into the back of his neck, gripping his shoulder with the other.
His kisses weren't anything like the brief ones she had exchanged in the past with the boys in her village, heated to the point where the imprint of his touch was seared into her flesh. His fingers skirted up under her tunic, moving higher and higher.
“We should not- '' he groaned against her jaw, the low, tormented noise sending desire pooling down between her thighs. “Your lifespan is naught more than a mere blink of an eye for my kind,” he rasped as he pulled back to let her breathe, panting.
“I don’t care,” she breathed, biting the inside of her cheek at the loss of his touch. “I want you. At least this once...”
He wavered at that, his eye flicking from her face to the door and back again.
She pressed herself against him harder, curling her hand around the back of his neck, consumed by a wild, desperate need inside her. She would gladly let him swallow her whole like some beast of old. Let him slice her from throat to navel and crawl inside her, burrowing his way into her bones and her blood and her heart. “Please.”
He swallowed hoarsely, fingertips skirting down the curve of her back, feeling each and every bump of her spine beneath her skin. “Turn around.” His pupil dilated and contracted rapidly as he watched the pile of fabric at her feet grow.
“You’re beautiful,” he swallowed, tongue darting out to wet his lip as he took in the sight of her. The expression on his face was dazed, his eye clouded and darkened by a lust that was unfamiliar to both of them.
She flushed at the words, bright patches of red painting her cheeks, self-conscious now as she folded her arms across her chest, the chill of the night hitting her breasts as it seeped in through the cracks in her window, wishing desperately she'd patched them over ages ago.
“May I?” her fingers hovered just above the belt cinching his waist, feeling bolder than she ever had. His eye darkened, the strange violet color slowly bleeding to black.
He eyed her with a hunger, that same wildness that had been in his eye all those months ago as tension seemed to spark between them, building and building until it reached a breaking point, snapping like a torn string.
Her body trembled, whether with desire or anticipation or something else, she didn’t know, but whatever the feeling was, knew she never wanted it to end as he kissed her again, deeper this time, slanting his mouth against hers as his hand came up to cradle the back of her head.She moaned against his mouth, each kiss harsher and more biting than the last. Insatiable now, his hands moved over every part of her. Her pulse jumped beneath her skin as the pad of his thumb swiped across the thin skin of her throat.
"There is a spot," he rasped, reaching down between them. "Here," he croaked, eye half-lidded. She moaned, grasping his wrist loosely as the tips of his fingers brushed something between her thighs, sending a flare of pleasure up her spine.
“Touch me,” he exhaled raggedly under his breath, burying his face in the crook of her neck as her fingers brushed the outline of his cock, the muscles of his stomach jumping beneath his skin. His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging lightly on the strands as he breathed something else against her skin.
The chuckle he let out reverberated against her back as he pressed closer, his hold on her bruising and harsh, and the longer she thinks, the fuzzier her head got, that it was painful in a way she didn’t mind.
"Greedy little thing, aren't you?" From his mouth, the words sounded almost like a mocking term of endearment. “So desperate for me,” he murmurs under his breath as his lips drag up over her throat, hovering just over the spot where her pulse hammered wildly beneath her skin.
She twisted underneath his weight, panting as her fingers twisted against the coarse spun bedding, the tightly wound coil of her desire for him increasing with each deliberately slow drag of his fingers, sending her hurtling closer and closer to her peak.
“Tell me this is mine,” he growled as the sinew of his arms twisted around her, lowering his head as he nipped at the skin, soothing the skin with kisses. “That you are mine.”
“Say it,” he repeated roughly, pulling his fingers back. Her back arched, lifting upwards as she tensed under him, her hands clawing at his back and her ankles crossing one over the other, her heel digging into his lower back, taking the pleasure he gave her freely.
The braid her hair had been woven into had long since come undone, curling over her shoulders in damp, sweaty strands, no thanks to the rough tugs of his fingers. She knew that come morning, bruises would mar her skin as purposefully left remnants that she was his and his alone.
The rapid thudding beat of her heart had only barely calmed when the chilling sound of howling sounded from beyond her door.
His head jerked, the arm he had draped across her stomach falling to the side as he shot up. “Stay here,” he demanded, not looking at her as he dressed feverishly, lastly flipping a cloak over his head.
“Sister.”
He stalked towards where she stood, ignoring the hulking black faehound that bared its teeth at him from behind her.
“Brother.” Helaena's voice was low and quiet, watching the candlelight flicker from behind dirty window panes. Clad in velvet and silk in jeweled tones of blue and ivory and gold, his sister was ethereal.
"Aegon knows." She spoke plainly, not bothering to embellish her words.
“Why are you here, sister?”
His face hardened, lips tightening like a shard of glass. "How?” he demanded, whirling on her.
“He sees, brother. Not to mention mother, grandsire and the Clubfoot all whisper into his ear," she murmured, every inch a queen as she folded her hands together in front of her in an echo of their mother.
“The Clubfoot should have been exiled decades ago,” he said, scoffing. "He drips poison into his ear more like. I don’t know how our brother can stand his foul simpering."
A fawn came closer, sniffing the air as it stilled a few feet from her, legs locked. Helaena clucked her tongue softly, turning away from him as she bent down, curling her fingers in a come hither gesture at the creature. It stared at her, wide dark eyes unblinking, before inching close enough to sniff at her extended fingers warily.
“Why are you here?” he repeated, flexing his fingers at his sides.
"Because Mother wants you to return home. She misses you." A pang hit him at the mention of their mother. Kind and gentle, she had been staunch and stalwart in her affection for all four of her children. He remembered it so clearly, the pained look on her face when he stormed from Aegon's halls in a fit of rage nearly a century past. "No, she doesn't. She has Daeron." He said, bitterness a sour tang on his tongue. "Her favorite boy."
Her hand dropped from the fawn’s head, giving the little thing the chance to bolt away from her on silent hooves, spotted hide swallowed by the darkness. "Don't be cruel, brother." She chastised, making him feel like a boy again. Wind began to pick up around them almost immediately after it had disappeared, the howling sound of it lashing through the tree branches grating in his ears.
His expression darkened, desperately wanting to scowl at her, the iron salty taste of blood flooding his mouth as he bit the inside of his cheek. The wind died, the quivering tree limbs stilling as the eerie calm settled once again over the forest.
“And because I see how you've grown attached to her. Your human." Her gaze was sharper than he remembered, her ability to be able to read him like no one else was more than off-putting. “Brother…” she murmured, voice laden with a pity he didn’t want.
“Don’t,” he snapped, the word coming out harsher than he meant it too.
She didn’t so much as blink, the only tell the slight raising of her brow, her expression as still and as calm as a lake. “She will die, brother. That is the way of things. She will die and we will carry on. As we've done for centuries."
"You think I don't know that?" He croaked, gaze sweeping over her willowy frame. “I know her fate, sister. I know that she, like all mortals, will wither and fade as time passes, whether of old age or some other happenstance...”
“And yet you know what will happen if you choose to stay here with her,” she warned, reaching up to grasp his chin in her hand. He could almost feel the power thrumming under her skin, heady and addictive. “He will not like it, brother.”
He curled his lip savagely in a twisted mocking grin. “I don’t care what he likes.”
She hummed, letting go of his face as she stepped backwards. “You know what he will do.”
She was gone when he opened his eye again, leaving nothing but the remnant of the flowers on her head brushing his skin and the echo of her words in his ear. It’s time you came home, brother mine.
"I cannot stay long," he murmured, pushing the hood of his cloak back once her door had latched behind him.
There was something different about him, something not even her healer’s intuition could name. She had watched, seeing him and the figure of another, almost be shoulder to shoulder. As well as the red eyes of the animal prowling around them in a circle.
“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?”
“Yes.” He was pale, almost ghostly so, with faint shadows darkening the pale skin under his eye, the pupil of his eye dilated and filled with a fear so unlike him.
She ached to touch him, dread coiling in her belly as she took in the look on his face. “What is it?”
He tipped his head back, not meeting her eyes as he exhaled, his breath shuddering its way past his lungs. “My brother has commanded that I return home. Permanently.” he murmured finally, bringing his head forward as he met her gaze. He kept his face blank even as her own went ashen and colorless.
And there was nothing she could do but watch as he seemed to withdraw and fold back into himself like a garden snail retreating into its shell, turning into a stranger once again.
"I knew you'd come back, one last time. Felt it in my bones."
He lingered in the doorframe, a solemn, silent creature of blood and bone and shadows with moonglow in his hair. He was still as beautiful as she remembered, the lingering echo of his touch still sharp even after all the years went by.
"I did."
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Not Exactly Babysitting
Warnings: its the boys so I mean cursing, vulgar language, sex, violence
Reader has a nickname/supe name of Blaze due to her power being pyrokinesis
Butcher calls you for a favor.
NSFW content
"Luv, I need a favor and it's a big un" why did you answer the call? Why when the moment you saw Butcher's name you didn't stomp on the damn phone and act like you'd fallen off the face of the earth? Because you were a supe,your mother having decided to let her newborn be shot up with compound v as part of an experiment. Anything for a check.
Butcher would've heard if a supe was found dead, especially if it was one with pyrokinesis. He tended to keep a check on you. Or well he got MM and Frenchie to keep a check on you. "What is it now Billy?" He was the only person you knew who would be thrown off more by you calling him by his first name then his last. "I just need you to keep an eye on someone for me. I wouldn't call if it wasn't important. This can help us take down that cunt homelander once and for all"
Fuck he knew that was one way to get you on board with any dumbass plan he'd cooked up. You wanted Homelander's head on a pike as much as he did but you weren't strong enough to take him on. "God dammit Butch" you mumbled and could practically hear the grin in his voice when he said "attagirl. I'll text you the address. Get here soon"
You hung up the phone hearing your text alerts ding. You weren't surprised to see the address was some two bit hotel. How the hell had you ever gotten dragged into Butcher?
As you drove you remembered the first time you laid eyes on William Butcher. It was about three years after his wife had been killed or assumed killed as you later learned. You'd just gotten cleared from a supe medical center.
You'd been approached about the seven and turned it down. Homelander hadn't been appreciative of that. Even with your healing and strength he'd nearly killed you. Vought had deemed it an accident of course and threatened to not "intervene on your behalf with the law" considering You'd destroyed half a city block with fire during the attack.
When Butcher approached you he offered one thing, revenge on every damn supe who saw themselves as above the law, as something more than just people who'd been shot up with drugs.
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Somewhere along the line you'd fallen in bed with him more than once. The first time you were both drunk off your asses, celebrating taking down a rogue supe. The things that damn man could do with his tongue would curl your fucking toes.
After that he'd sworn it was a one time thing. Until the next time the two of you were alone, within five minutes of Frenchie leaving the safe house Billy's fingers had been buried inside of you pushing you over that edge and praising you for how gorgeous you were and how tight your cunt was. Needless to say MM hadn't spoken a word to either of you for the following week when he walked in to you bouncing on Butcher's cock.
You shook your head to clear your thoughts, loosening your grip on the steering wheel enough to realize it had small scorch marks on it. Thankfully you'd paid for full coverage when you rented it. You checked your phone to see you weren't but half an hour out. There was no guessing just what awaited you.
You rolled up and cursed the moment you saw Butcher with Hughie in tow. If it was just the two of them? It was an enormously stupid idea but you were already here now, might as well see what it was right?
You slowly climbed out the car glaring at Butcher as you said "Hey Hughie. How's Annie?" He seemed a bit uncomfortable but still replied "She's um she's good" you knew something was up but took him at his word before turning your attention to Butcher "So I'm here. What's the job?" He grinned "Blaze, looking gorgeous as always" you rolled your eyes so he motioned to the stairs behind him "Follow me luv"
You took a deep breath then fell in step next to him "Where's Frenchie and MM?" "Slight difference of opinion but they'll get over it when we take down Homelander" you had a bad feeling that only worsened when he opened the door leading into room two twenty three.
Sitting on the bed was none other than the original supe, the one everyone had long assumed dead. Soldier Boy. You cut your eyes at Butcher "You mother fucker. What did you do?"
You could feel Soldier Boy's eyes on you but didn't look in his direction. You'd heard plenty about him and had seen all the propaganda they'd done with him back in the day. What didn't add up was how was he still so damn young, why was he working with Butcher and where had he been to make Vought announce to the world that he'd been killed?
"You remember Frenchie texting you about Russia?" Yeah you'd been on the west coast and couldn't get back to help in enough time. "Yeah but I thought it was a botched thing considering he also texted me that Kimiko was healing from it"
Butcher waved a hand towards Soldier Boy who'd stood off the bed, staring at you as he asked "Who's this?" You turned to face the man and had to admit he was fucking gorgeous. You'd seen photos and videos but damn they didn't do him justice. He was about Butcher's height, broad shoulders with emerald green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose spreading over the top of his cheeks.A smirk snuck onto his face when he realized he had your attention "What's it to you?" You quickly snapped at him trying to hide your initial attraction.
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He wasn't a good guy. You knew he wasn't a good guy. "Oh she's feisty. Damn Butcher why did you hide her this long?" Butcher reached out and grabbed your wrist that was closest to him and it was only then you noticed the flames dancing between your fingertips "Oui sweetheart, since when are your powers so touchy?"
Hughie and Soldier Boy alike were looking at your hand. "Y/N, you good?" Hughie asked and you cut your eyes at him "I'm fine" you flexed your fingers effectively extinguishing the flames before asking Butcher again "What's the damn job?" "Me and Hughie have to run down some leads. Soldier Boy here can't be left alone that long. Too many gunning for him and he ain't exactly used to life the way it is nowadays" "Plus he's um radioactive" Hughie added nervously.
You glared at Butcher shaking your head slowly "Fuck you. I'm not babysitting a supe that's old enough to be my father if not my grandfather and ten times as powerful as me who happens to also be fucking radioactive!" You made it to the door and was about to storm when Butcher said "He can burn the compound v out of Homelander."
You turned back to face him looking towards Soldier Boy "Can he actually do that?" "It's what Kimiko is healing from" Hughie replied. "And you'll help us kill that bastard?" This time your questioned was aimed at Soldier Boy "I'm a man of my word. Me and Butcher have a deal"
You sighed, purposely knocking your head against the door as you did so "How long?" "Two days" you looked up at Soldier Boy "I might not be able to kill you but make a move I don't like and I will burn your fucking dick off, got it?" He seemed amused by your threats but nodded nonetheless "Yes ma'am"
You'd gotten to the hotel around noon, Butcher left around three. It was now ticking towards midnight and the tension in the room was beginning to strangle you.
Empty food cartons, a few soda bottles and a half empty bottle of bourbon sat scattered around the room from both of you making efforts to not have to converse. You were sitting cross legged on the sofa in the room doing your best to ignore the man who kept glancing your way during his spouts of how much time had changed.
You half laughed considering you were reading on a kindle. When he'd asked what it was and you told him just how many books in total it could hold he had looked at you like you'd grown a second head. Rather it being that you were reading for amusement or the technology side you weren't sure. He was holding to his word to not come close to you but a bit of the old fashioned misogyny kept peeking out every now and then during his ranting.
After a minute you figured fuck it, why not poke at the radioactive supe who could probably survive you lighting him on fire five times over. Butcher had told you the basics of his story, betrayal of his team and what not.
You turned your kindle off and stood to walk across the room to your duffel bag. You'd discarded your jeans in favor of cloth shorts and the shirt you'd been wearing for one that you honestly weren't sure where it came from. It'd seemingly appeared in your laundry rotation and was comfortable so you kept it. You knew you'd be forced to stay here and while the couch wasn't the most comfortable thing you would at least dress the part.
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"So should I call you Y/N or Blaze?" He asked and you glanced over your shoulder seeing his eyes were lingering on the tattoos that littered the bare skin of your legs. "Either or. Fuck I've been calling you Soldier Boy for hours. What the hell is your real name after all?"
He raised his eyes back to yours as he took another swig of bourbon "Ben" you nodded approvingly "Ben. Good name, points for the fact that it's extremely moanable" you had to stifle your laugh when he nearly choked on his drink. God it was kind of funny that you could catch him off guard so easily.
"Take a breath. Just saying do you know how awkward some names are? I mean guy can be fuckin gorgeous, hitting it just right but if his name is something like Wesley? Kills the mood moaning that. Ben is something light that would slip out easy" he watched you walk back over to the couch and you could see the wheels turning behind those green eyes.
"So what's the story with you and Butcher?" He asked after a minute. Your surprise showed on your face so he shrugged "I notice things darling. It's apparent you two have rolled around a few times. He doesn't seem to like supes too damn much despite the circumstances and choices he's making so how'd he end up bedding one like you?"
You shrugged that time before saying "He's good with his tongue, fingers are extremely nimble and his dicks a good size nice and thick but not too long that it would hurt" "So you a couple?" You couldn't help but laugh "That's a no. See Ben nowadays us women can fuck who we wanna without settling down. We have iuds, multiple forms of birth control and a few different types of condom"
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"I bet you would be one helluva fuck" he gave you an appreciative once over so you gave him a smile "Oh honey, you may be a stronger supe than me but you're a lot older than me too. I may end up hurting you" "You saying Butcher's a better fuck than you think I'd be?" He seemed so insulted by the idea it was almost humorous, almost. Had it not been for the weight of his gaze making heat pool in your lower stomach.
You let a flame flicker across the fingers of your right hand as you held his gaze "Just saying women nowadays know what we like and what we don't. I've brought Butcher to his knees before. You're a supe, yeah compound V is pumping through your veins but a man's a man. The reason I've fucked Butcher is I'm always in control of what happens. He doesn't make a move without checking if I'm cool with it"
He nodded slowly "So you like being in charge?" You shook your head "Not as much in charge as being able to trust my dancing partner wouldn't step on toes and ask before he tries any lifts" "A real man knows not to take anything that a woman isn't offering fully to him and if she changes her mind that's her choice" fuck you hadn't expected that answer out of someone like him.
"Are we talking here or are you trying to fuck me because I'm getting mixed vibes" he barked out a laugh at your words. "Damn Y/N, I see why Butcher likes you" you shook your head with a laugh "I think it's time we call it a night. You got enough of those horse tranqs to pop so I don't have to worry about getting fried if anything decides to pop into your subconscious?" He shrugged "Yeah there's enough. I'm gonna finish this bottle first though. You need any precautions to feel safe enough to sleep around me"
You held his eyes for a moment before standing up. He seemed unsure as to what you were doing, when you got over to the bed he raised an eyebrow and when you reached for his hand he let you. You laid it on the thigh of your left leg using your hand to guide his fingertips across the scars hidden beneath the ink "I couldn't heal this. I took a shotgun blast to the fuckin chest from half a foot away and not a scratch but this? I can't heal. I sleep alone because the last time I shared a bed with someone overnight I nearly burnt him alive, Butcher forgave me of course considering why but believe me when I say you'd be the least of my nightmares no matter how dangerous I know you are"
He gripped your thigh firmly but not enough for it hurt "That why you're gunning for this Homelander prick?" You nodded "I'm going to sleep" he motioned to the bed "Take the bed at least. I'm good on the couch"
You tossed and turned, trying to talk your mind into sleeping. Ben was watching some movie but he'd moved the television so your half of the room was in mostly darkness and had the volume low. Of course you could still hear it but you appreciated the thought. He was still an abrasive, old timey misogynistic asshole but he was a bit more human than Homelander or it seemed so at least.
You could feel the heat in the room on every inch of your body. Had you been home or even in a safehouse with the boys you would've stripped down to your sports bra and panties but you didn't want to put on a full strip tease for him.
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You weren't sure how much time had passed when Ben cleared his throat "Do you need one of the tranqs? Or a shot of liquor, something?" You sat up smoothing a hand over your hair and was able to bite back something snarky but your reply was caught in your throat.
After he'd showered he hadn't bothered to throw a shirt back on. Meaning he was sitting on the couch in just Grey sweats. His hair was falling forward over his eyes in places and God damn just how broad was that mother fucker? He looked like he took up most of the couch.
He looked towards you and a crooked smirk slipped onto his face "Y/N...Blaze...you good?" You didn't know why but instead of coming up with an answer you let the truth fall from your lips "You may be an asshole but you are fucking sexy as hell" he laughed lightly and even that sound was deep enough it made your stomach flip. Fuck, were you horny? Was that why you couldn't sleep?
"I guess I should say thank you at least? Still don't answer if you need something?" You swallowed the answer you wanted to give which was along the lines of "Please ruin me" God damn when had you gotten so pent up?
You shook your head "What are you watching?" He shrugged "I don't fuckin know. Just some shit that came on while I was in the shower" you shoved the blanket off and walked across the room, nearly doubling in laughter when you realized fucking Soldier Boy had scrolled through the channels and landed on fifty shades of Grey.
"Oh this movie and the books were horrible" you moved to sit on the couch so he sat up a little straighter teasing "Don't want my dick burnt off after all" when you cut your eyes at him.
You curled up on the cushion, not missing how close his bare shoulder was to you or how much heat was radiating off him. "Is it a by product of the actual radiation or have you always ran hot?" You asked and he glanced at you "Have always ran hot" you nodded, trying to pay attention to the God awful movie but it's like there was a magnet drawing you towards him. It was a bad idea, a horrible idea really.
He kept his eyes on the TV as he spoke "I'm just gonna throw this out there Y/N but if you want to touch me anywhere feel free" you felt your face warm up and this time it didn't have a damn thing to do with your powers "What do you mean?" He turned towards you slightly, almost touching you in the process "You've been staring at my chest. Your hand is close enough that if you barely move it'll be on my shoulder. If you want to touch me, do it."
You weren't sure if it was the underlying challenge or the promise that he held in his eyes for at the very least one helluva good time that pushed you into motion.
You reached a hand out to run across his chest, tracing his muscles and testing the water. When he didn't move, simply followed your movement with his eyes you smiled to yourself "Ben?" He met your eyes "Hmm?" "Do you want to touch me?"
He raised an eyebrow "This you saying you want me to touch you?" Fuck it, this was a dangerous game you were playing but you'd ran with the boys for years. It's not like you planned for the long time so might as well have a good time, right?
You braced your hands on his shoulders before swinging your legs across his lap to be straddling him. He watched you silently, those damn green eyes tracking your smallest movement. You could feel the way his body quickly reacted to you, his cock hardening underneath you. Fuck, he was thick and had a good length too. The thought occurred to you that he'd been locked away in Russia a very long time.
----------
A light groan left him when you rolled your hips just slightly against his. "Tell me what you want here doll?" His voice was so damn deep it rumbled through your chest. You leaned close enough that your lips were just shy of touching his "I want to see if you can make me scream your name or if you're all talk" he didn't respond instead he simply gripped the back of your head pulling you into a kiss that was all tongue and teeth that left you breathless when he pulled away to look you in the eye "If anything is too much burn me if you have to so you can get the point across"
You nodded pulling him back into the kiss. You felt his hands slip under your shirt and a light shiver ran through your body at how his rough hands felt on your skin. A gasp left your lips when he stood up suddenly, supporting your weight with one hand under your ass. "I need more room than that damn couch" "Promises, promises" you muttered and he gave you a grin that couldn't be described as anything but devilish. No wonder there were numerous tales of people selling their soul, if Lucifer looked anything like the man holding you.
He dropped you on the bed causing you to bounce twice with the force. You glared up at him "Could've been a little easier" he shrugged "What, are you already gonna tap out just because I dropped you on the bed instead of placing you gently?"
You leaned back on the palms of your hands looking up at him "Are you already tapping out because you're afraid you may rank lower than Butcher?" "Oh I'm gonna make you regret that one Y/N"
He climbed onto the bed, you could feel it dip under his weight but your eyes were glued to his "Anything off the table?" "No anal and if you try any slapping shit I'll light your ass up" he grinned "Sounds good to me. Gonna take that damn shirt off?" You reached for the hem of your shirt but his larger hands covered yours, helping to remove the piece of fabric from your body.
You felt a little too bare until he let his lips trail down your neck then across your chest. He licked one nipple into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. You couldn't help the moan that escaped you or the way your back arched into him. He let his other hand trail across your stomach, causing you to inhale sharply when his fingertips dug into your hips about the same time he bit down just hard enough to cause a scream to escape you.
When he pulled away from your breasts he smiled up at you "Still in for this? Cause right now you're looking like you're all talk.." you could tried to press your thighs together,not only to soothe the ache starting there but in an attempt to hide just how soaked you already were from kissing and light petting.
You pulled him up to your lips, kissing him roughly before taunting "says the man who's barely touched me" at your words the hand that bad been teasing at your hip moved to pull your shorts off your legs. You lifted your hips just enough to ensure he didn't rip the shorts getting them off of you. When you were completely bare to him he sat back on his heels. "What?" You asked, moving to cover yourself but he was faster, pinning your arms down over your head "Let me look at you Y/N. Damn it's been years since I had a woman as gorgeous as you underneath me"
You rolled your eyes but before you could think of a comeback any words were ripped from your mind by one thick finger slipping through your folds. He easily found your clit, teasing at it. You moaned at the sensation causing him to add a second digit. He curled them both up,hitting that spot inside of you "I'm gonna fuck you with my fingers, then with my tongue then if you think you can take more I'll use my cock. That sound good princess?" You nearly whimpered, the feeling of that knot in your stomach growing tighter with every movement of his fingers.
Just as you'd nearly reached that peak he stopped his movements. "Ben!" You whined and his laughter hit your ears "I asked you a question" you swallowed hard, trying to fuck yourself on his fingers. He leaned over to kiss your thigh before beginning to move his fingers again "It sounds good. It sounds good" you panted worried he'd stop again when you could already feel the pleasure building "Good cause I want to feel you cum however many times I can"
He went silent attacking your neck and chest with open mouthed kisses and light bites. You were like putty in his hands when you finally came. You laid there trying to catch your breath only to feel his hands spreading your thighs.
When he first licked into you a cry escaped your lips. It was too fast after an orgasm, you were too over stimulated and dear God what the fuck was he doing with his tongue?
You didn't want to praise him, didn't want to let his name escape you as a moan but when he locked his lips around your clit his name slipped from your lips like a fucking prayer "Fuck Ben. Feels so good" you felt him smile against you right before another orgasm washed over you without warning.
----------
The bastard kept going even after you soaked his beard and the bed underneath you. You shoved at his head "Enough. Enough" he gave one final kiss to your clit before crawling back uo your body "Where's that girl that was talking shit about me being an old man?"
You groaned pulling him down into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips "I take it back, you're pretty good with your fingers and your mouth" "Oh i must have lost a few steps. You're still talking shit" you glanced down between the two of you, seeing he still had his sweats on "I must have lost a few cause you're still wearing pants"
He rolled his hips against yours when he kissed you pulling a moan from you at the feeling of his clothed erection rutting into you "Are you gonna fuck me or just tease the shit out of me?" He gripped your hips suddenly and flipped both of you where his back was down to the bed and you were on top of him "You want my pants off? Take em off"
You weren't one to back down from a challenge so you kissed him one more time, savoring how he chased your lips when you moved away. You kissed down his neck, tentatively biting the places that made his breathing quicker. You were rewarded with a deep groan and his grip on your hips tightening.
You moved further down kissing across his chest,letting your nails tease the skin there as well. When you got to the waistband of his sweats you left a kiss on the smooth expanse of hip that was peeking out already. You reached a hand under his sweats, feeling his hard cock react to your touch the moment your fingers grazed across it.
You held his eyes as you pulled at the pants and he eagerly lifted his hips off the bed to assist you. You knew your eyes had widened when his cock sprung free. Fuck he was big, almost too big in length and a delicious girth.
You licked a strip from the base of his cock up to the head. "Fuck Y/N" hearing your name fall from his lips spurred you on. You knew you couldn't take all of him but that wasn't gonna stop you from trying. You wrapped your lips around his cock slowly going down, you gagged slightly when you felt the tip hit the back of your throat.
You pulled back up repeating the motion twice, taking more of him in each time. You used your hand to give the rest of him and his balls attention, carefully rolling them between your finger. Hearing someone that you knew was as powerful as Soldier Boy being a moaning mess under your touch? Well a girl could have a worse means of a confidence boost.
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"Y/n...blaze..." Ben reached for your hand. You pulled up from his cock with a wet pop to look at him "What's wrong?" He shook his head with a grin playing on his lips "Feels too damn good darling. I ain't fucked nothing in years and my stamina is good but I'll be damned if I'm coming anywhere but in that tight little pussy of yours" you laughed lightly kissing your way back up his body until you were effectively straddling him. "Then by all means let me oblige you" you lifted up slightly feeling his hard length poking at your thigh. You gripped him tightly before bringing him to your entrance.
He reached for your face, pushing the hair back of out it so he could watch your eyes as you lowered yourself onto his cock. You had to go slow, taking him in little by little but once he was finally completely inside of you, your hips flush against his you knew he felt the full body shiver you had. You couldn't hide it. He was so damn big and filled you completely.
You gave him a strained smile "Give me a second" he pulled you forward to kiss across your chest "I get it baby. It's a lot to take" you would've slapped him for the condescending tone had he not shifted his hips slightly as he spoke. "God damn you" you muttered, bracing a hand on his chest.
He shot you a smirk "What's wrong?" You moved your hips in a small circle, feeling that the pain from being stretched out had given way to the pleasurable feeling of being so damn full. "Nothing" you finally replied starting to roll your hips. His eyes fluttered shut as you started to bounce, fucking yourself on his cock.
"Attagirl. Holy shit" he was mumbling under his breath, gripping your hips tightly. He started to bring his hips up to meet every movement of yours. Your nails were cutting into his chest but neither of you cared "Fuck I'm close Ben" you moaned so he moved one hand between the two of you, fingers quickly finding your clit to rub tight circles on it "Come for me Y/N. Let me feel that perfect pussy squeeze my cock"
Between the movement of your hips, driving him deeper inside of you than you'd ever thought possible and the movement of his fingers it wasn't long before you were seeing stars. The third orgasm of the night washing over you.
He eased you down against his chest, holding you to it as he turned you both back over. His cock never slipped out of you. "This ain't fair, I've came three times already" you mumbled weakly. He chuckled, catching your lips in a kiss "Oh darling if it ain't at least a five to one thing then I need to head back to Russia and let em put me on ice. Best part is seeing the woman you're with falling apart" he nipped your neck over your pulse point "Especially seeing one as strong as you fall apart"
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He began to rock his hips against yours, painfully slow thrusts that had tears forming in the corner of your eyes because even after three orgasms your body was screaming for more. "Ben..uh fuck...please" he leaned down enough to catch your lips in a messy kiss "Please what Princess? Use your words"
"Fuck me hard Ben. I need it. Please" "Never would pegged you for the begging type" he teased so you glared up at him "Butcher never makes me beg" the moment the words left your mouth he pulled your legs up to his broad shoulders nearly folding you in half.
The new angle meant with every snap of his hips he was hitting that spot that made you see stars. Your eyes were screwed shut, riding out the pleasure that borderlined pain the most delicious of ways. "Uh uh uh. Eyes open Y/N" you opened your eyes as his thrusts slowed just enough to bring you back from that edge "The fuck?" "I want to see those eyes when you come on my cock. I want you to see me fucking you"
You forced your eyes to stay open as he pounded into you, catching your lips in a frenzied kiss. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer as that knot within you threatened to burst "Ben..oh fuck.." you moaned as the knot burst, orgasm washing over you, lighting your entire body on fire. You had to look where you were connected to Ben to ensure the pleasure hadn't caused your powers to topple out.
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He worked you through your orgasm then pulled out causing you to whine at the loss of contact "Turn over" those two words quickly reignited that fire in your stomach. You did as he asked and the moment you were on your stomach he used one hand to pull you up to your knees, pushing your upper half down on the mattress "You still with me here Y/N?" You nodded but felt a warm kiss on your shoulder before he bit down "Verbal answer darling. I need to hear it"
"Still with you" you panted before adding "and that's four" you could practically feel the smile on his face when he nipped at your neck "Means one more and I can fill this pretty little pussy up"
When he slid back into you, the feeling was nearly overwhelming. He chuckled darkly "Your poor little pussy is nearly fucked out. Almost too swollen to take me" he snapped his hips forward drilling into you to the point you could feel his tight balls slapping against your ass "Almost"
A string of curses mixed with his name left you as he pulled you up until your back was against his chest "God damn I can feel you throbbing around me. You already close again?" You nodded weakly so he left a kiss on your neck then leaned you back forward where your hands could grip the headboard. "Good cause I'm about to fuckin bust here" he admitted reaching one hand under you to play with your clit as his thrusts got even harder and faster "Just need to feel you come one more time"
You could feel the warmth spreading throughout you again as you gripped the headboard trying to ride out the feeling "Fuck.." a broken cry escaped you as your fifth orgasm of the night washed over you. His hips didn't slow any, working himself towards that release. "Come for me Ben, please fill me up" you begged and your words mixed with how tight your walls were squeezing him pushed him over that edge.
He nearly collapsed as he spilled deep inside of you, coating your walls with his cum. "God damn" he muttered before pulling out and collapsing next to you. "You good?" He asked breathlessly, pushing your hair back so he could see your face "I'm good" he nodded then glanced up and started laughing "What?" "Bed's not"
You followed his line of sight and saw scorch marks on the headboard where your hands had gripped "Shit" he shrugged "Can always say you tried to scorch me but I got out the way. Don't worry Butcher will never know"
You were half asleep when you felt a warm rag between your legs "Shh, just cleaning you up a bit until you're up for a shower" "Thanks" you managed to slur out.
After Ben cleaned you and himself he walked back out of the bathroom "Do I still need to take the couch?" You raised your hand enough to flip him out causing a loud laugh to escape him.
You felt the bed dip next to you before his head leaned over on your back "You a cuddler?" You asked in shock. He shook his head "hoping if I'm close enough you may want one more round when you wake up" "Go to hell Ben" you replied feeling his hand slide around to play at your nipples "If this is the ticket to hell I've done a hell of a lot worse"
The next day you were freshly showered with your duffle repacked when Butcher called to see if you needed anything before he got back to the hotel.
You and Ben had ended up going for another round in the bed and once in the shower. Luckily he hadn't left any marks that couldn't be covered with clothes because most of your body was littered with light bruising from his lips and teeth.
He watched you talk to Butcher then when you hung up he raised an eyebrow "Lover boy almost back?" You rolled your eyes "He's about twenty minutes out" he let his eyes slide across your body "I could make you cum one more time"
You shook your head "If it weren't for the advance healing I'd be barely walking as is" he nodded "We could make out till we hear that shitty car?"
You shrugged "Why not" Ben was across the room with you in his arms and your legs wrapped around his waist the moment you agreed.
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"He give ya any trouble?" Butcher asked standing next to your rental car. You shook your head "No more than you usually do" he nodded "Could I call ya if we need any more help on this job?"
You shrugged "Try to make things right with MM and Frenchie then maybe you can call me for more help on this job"
His eyes flickered down towards your lips and you laughed lightly "I said help on the job Billy" "Yeah yeah yeah" he replied leaving a kiss on your cheek before heading back into the hotel.
Not Exactly Lying
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Like A Movie
Summary: Reader is a struggling screenwriter but things start looking up when they get a surprise visitor who wants to buy their movie.
Jenna Ortega X Fem! Reader
Word Count: 2.8K
A/N: This takes place 10 years in the future. I’m suffering some serious writers block on my other fic and hopefully this helps. It feels weird to write about a real person, but it came so easily I couldn't waste it.
Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX
You’re an up and coming screenwriter. You just retired after twenty years in the military, and now you’re living in a tiny apartment in LA. You figure you spent your youth doing a job you hated, sacrificing everything and for what? Now you’re going to live out your dream.
The truth is, you’d written page after page and screenplay on screenplay on screenplay and you had nothing to show for it. You sent them all out, hoping and praying for a bite. But now it’s been a year, you’re 38 and the only thing you have to show for your efforts is an apartment full of stacks of haphazardly bound paper and a serious caffeine and nicotine addiction.
Until now. You had written a full feature film, probably the 100th one you’d finished. You stuck it in a drawer months ago, but decided to pull it out and rewrite. You wrote until your fingers ached and your eyes burned. You edited until you felt as if you cut actual pieces of your soul out and threw them away. And finally, you had your final draft. When you printed and bound it, you didn’t think twice about it. You’d figured it would probably end up in the pile of your other stories, gathering dust and resentment.
Your sister came down from Northern California to visit you, and one day while you were out she’d picked up the script and read the entire 120 pages. She was beside herself. She hounded you until you gave in. The compromise was you’d only send it to A24, not even gathering the hope that anyone would read it. And you thought it had been dumped in the trash, until you got a phone call.
You were standing in your kitchen watching your espresso machine spit its sweet lifeblood into your oversized mug when your phone rang. You considered not answering. You hated talking on the phone, and it was an unknown number. But this is Hollywood, so you know you’re obligated to pick up in case it’s an agent.
“Hello?”
“Hello. Is this the author of Secessus?” A man’s voice comes through the phone.
“Uh, yes?”
“Are you currently at your apartment?”
You look around, confused. You walk to your kitchen window and look outside, but all you see is the bag lady rummaging through the dumpster.
“Yeah. This is creepy, I’m hanging up.”
Your last sentence fell on a dead line. The person on the other end had already hung up after you had confirmed you were home. You shake your head and pick up your mug, taking one last glance outside.
“Weird.” You say as you shuffle back to your desk. Your computer is open to a new script you’re working on, this one is a spec for tv. You figured you’d try your hand at a multi-episode plot and hope to get picked up for a writers room on another show. If you weren’t going to write something original, at least you’d still get to write something.
You’re about to start tapping away at your keyboard when there’s a soft knocking at your door. You glance at it, then at your phone. None of your friends ever came over unannounced. They knew you hated that. So who the fuck was this?
You get up, and tiptoe to the door. At least if you’re quiet you can look through the peephole and see who it is without alerting them to your presence. This way if it’s someone you don’t want to interact with, you can go back to your desk and pretend you aren’t home. You stand on your tiptoes and close one eye, pressing the other to the small glass window in the door.
All you can make out is a small figure, like really small. They’re wearing a bucket hat but you can see brown hair falling over their shoulders. The person is clearly nervous, and you can see them spinning the rings on their fingers. It’s a girl.
You lower yourself back down, frowning. It was a rare occasion you turned a girl away from your door, but you had no clue who this was. You get back on your tip toes again to get another look. She’s looking right at the peephole, and even waves at it. You can’t tell who it is because she’s wearing massive pittvipers under her hat, effectively covering her face.
You lower yourself again, more confused. You shrug to yourself and figure ‘what’s the worst that could happen? She tries to sell me a bible and I tell her I’m a big fat lesbian. Byeee.’ Before opening the door you look down at yourself. You’re bra-less and wearing a white ribbed tank top (formerly know as a wife beater but now affectionately dubbed a wife pleaser) and gray sweats. You are perfectly aware that you look like shit, but you don’t care. Maybe it’ll scare the girl away.
Another knock raps against your door, this time louder and more frantic.
“Hello? I know you’re in there can you please open up? I really need to talk to you.” The girl says from the other side.
She has a sweet voice, high in pitch but not piercingly so. You sigh in resignation and grab the doorknob. The damn thing wasn’t even locked. You swing the door open and blink at the sudden blast of sunlight in your face.
The girl is there, bouncing on her toes with anxiety. She looks up at you, and you think she looks shockingly familiar. You can’t quite place it though, not with the hat and the sunglasses. She’s wearing a baggy white shirt with a green hem and denim jeans. She’s casual but you can tell that it’s calculated. She’s trying to blend in.
“Uhm, can I help you?”
“Are you y/n?” She asks.
“Yes? Is this a joke? Did you have someone call me?” You’re slightly worried now, and still half blind from the sun shining in your eyes.
“Can I come inside?” She asks, glancing behind her nervously.
“Are you in trouble or something? Am I being roped into like some action movie scenario?”
She laughs, and you can’t help yourself but think it’s a pleasant sound. She still seems so familiar. Maybe if your damned eyes would adjust you could figure out who this woman is.
“I’m not in trouble, I just want to talk to you about your script. And I’m pretty sure there’s a paparazzi in your neighbors trash can.” She says, glancing across the parking lot.
You smile, “Oh no, that’s just Janice. She’s the bag lady.”
The girl looks at you like you’re crazy. At least you think she does, because you can’t see much of her face behind the giant reflective glasses she’s wearing. You find yourself feeling slightly indignant. Who is this girl to look at you crazy when she’s the stranger knocking on your door and asking to come inside?
“So?” She says, still looking up at you.
“Oh, uhm…” you hesitate. Your apartment is a disaster. There were scripts and coffee cups everywhere, and likely a pair of socks or two. “This is about Secessus?”
She nods, raising her eyebrows above her glasses. Is she getting impatient? The stones on this girl. You sigh and relent, stepping to the side and waving your hand inside to usher her in. She hurriedly slides past you, her converse squeaking on your wood floors. You shut the door and turn to her. She’s staring at your living room.
You grimace, “Oof, I wasn’t expecting company so…it’s a mess.”
She approaches a stack of scripts and runs her fingers along the cover page. When she speaks her voice is quiet, almost reverent. Like she’s speaking in a church.
“Are these all screenplays?”
“Yeah- wait, you haven’t even told me your name dude, and you’re in my house. How do you know about Secessus?”
She doesn’t turn around, instead thumbing through the script you know is called Green Ties. You wrote it two months ago and have yet to revise it.
“Because I read it.”
Realization dawns on you, “Oh you’re from A24?”
She hums, “You could say that. Sometimes.”
She takes her glasses off but she’s still turned away from you.
“Sometimes? Are you like an agent or something?” You ask as you move around her into your living room.
She looks up at you and you immediately know who she is. How it took you so long is still a mystery, but now that you can see her of course you know her. Brown eyes, a spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, the most perfect cupids bow lip.
Jenna motherfucking Ortega.
“That’s me. Except it’s Marie, not motherfucking. Although that would be a pretty dope middle name.” She replies with a shrug.
You hadn’t even realized you said it out loud. Your mouth is hanging open and you’re eternally grateful you set your coffee down or it would be on the floor. Along with your pride. You glance down at yourself now painfully aware that you look like a bum who hadn’t showered in a week.
“Jenna Ortega. In my apartment. Read my script.” You think you may be going into shock. She does too.
“Do you want to sit down?” She’s worried, you can see it on her face.
You nod and gesture toward your dining room table. It’s the only surface that isn’t covered in your manuscripts. You grab your coffee from your desk and sit with it at the table, your hands shaking as Jenna sits down across from you. You set the cup down, mentally kicking yourself
“Would you uh-do you want an espresso?” You’re scrambling now, desperately trying to make this scenario less fucking weird.
She smiles at you and pulls the hat off her head, shaking her hair free. “I’d love one.”
You get up, far too quickly to be considered normal but you figure that ship has sailed now, and make her a cup. As you’re waiting for the machine you begin to gather your senses, willing yourself to be a normal human being for once in your life.
“So, uhm, I just want to apologize. If I had known,” you pause and lean into the counter, looking back at her. “I would have been more…presentable.”
She leans her elbow on your table and rests her head in her hand, still smiling at you. Why is she smiling at you?
“I prefer it this way. It feels more real.”
“Well it feels pretty fuckin unreal to me right now.” You blurt out before you can stop yourself. You grimace at your words but she laughs again. Before you can say anything else the espresso machine chimes telling you Jenna’s coffee is ready. You turn and grab it, quickly setting it down in front of her.
You sit back in your chair, then stand back up when you realize, “Oh shoot do you want anything with it? I have sugar cubes and oat milk, if you’re into that.”
She shakes her head no and blows over the top of the mug, “This is great, thank you.”
You sit back down. You know you’re being a fool. You just can’t get your feet under you. She’s still smiling at you, her eyes shining. She looks exactly like her pictures, maybe even better in person. Her 20s have treated her well and she wears 30 like a goddess. You close your eyes in frustration, seriously what is wrong with you?! Get it together y/n. You take a deep breath and open your eyes again. She’s watching you closely, half hidden amusement on her face.
“So. You’re here about my movie?”
She nods, her face lighting up like she’s just remembered why she’s here too. “Yeah! A24 gave me the script last week and once I picked it up I couldn’t put it down. I’ve read it at least ten times now. I’ve even found myself rehearsing all the lines for all the characters, I’m obsessed.”
You’re dumbfounded. Jenna Ortega is sitting at your kitchen table and she’s obsessed with your script. You briefly wonder if you’ve ascended into an alternate universe.
She takes your silence as an invitation to go on. “So I wanted to come here and meet the person who wrote it. I want to make this movie. If you’ll let me.”
“You. You want to make my movie?”
She nods, sipping her coffee. “I’d like to be in it too, obviously. But A24 would produce it. It’d be my directorial debut. But like, if you’re not cool with that we can hire someone too.”
This whole morning must be a dream. You’re dreaming, you decide. And if this is a dream it doesn’t matter what you say.
“You’ve got to be shitting me right now.”
She laughs again, you feel proud. That’s three times in the span of ten minutes you’ve made Jenna Ortega laugh. But of course this is a dream. So you’re great.
“I’m not shitting you. What do you think?”
“I think I’m dreaming.” You say.
She laughs again. You’re crushing it.
“You’re not dreaming.” She reaches across the table and grabs your hand. You KNOW you’re dreaming now because Jenna Ortega is holding your hand. “See, I’m real. You’re real. And we’re going to make your movie.”
“Holy shit.”
“You haven’t said yes yet.”
You nearly fall out of your chair. “Yes! Yes a million times yes! You can act all the parts, direct it, produce it, burn it to the ground for all I care, are you kidding me?”
Her laughter is quickly becoming the soundtrack to your morning. “I don’t think I can act all the parts, and A24 is on board so we just need to cast the rest.”
You feel like a fish, your mouth is moving but absolutely nothing is coming out. She pulls her hand back and takes another drink of her coffee.
“I’m sure this is sort of overwhelming. But I want you on set with me. And I want you to help me with the cast. If you agree, the studio already has your contract drawn up. They’ll pay you for the script and we’ll start in two months.”
You take a sip of your coffee, then look deep into the cup. Did your sister slip shrooms in the espresso again? You look back to Jenna, she’s patiently waiting for you to answer her.
“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’m trying to get it together right now. But yes. To all of it. Yes.” You run your hands through your hair, a nervous habit.
Jenna grins at you over her mug. She has her fingers interlaced around it and she’s clinking one of her rings against the porcelain. If you didn’t know any better you’d say she was excited. Thrilled even.
“Great!” She says, “I’ll let them know.”
You nod. Thanking the universe she’s already read the script because she would probably think you were an idiot if she didn’t know that you could write. You could not pull it together. This morning was just so WEIRD.
“Do you usually make house calls to writers?” You ask her, attempting to compose yourself.
“No. This one is special. And now that I’ve met you, I know I made the right decision.” She downs the last of her coffee and stands.
You stand with her, and move around the table as she makes her way toward your door. You lean around her when she’s in the entry and open it, letting her out. As she’s about to step outside she turns to you.
“That coffee is incredible by the way. How do you feel about this time tomorrow?”
“How do I feel?”
She nods, pulling her hat and sunglasses back on. “Yeah. Do you mind if I come back by to go over the details? I’d stay longer today but I have to go to a casting call.”
“Uh, of course. I’ll have a cup waiting for you.”
You mentally pat yourself on the back. Good job y/n, so smooth, much rizz.
She grins even wider and turns on her heel, heading down the stairs, leaving you standing in the doorway, awestruck. You watch her as she gets into a town car waiting in the parking lot, and wait till it drives away before you close your door.
“What the fuck.” You say quietly, “wait what the fuck?!” You yell this time.
Excitement pumps through your veins and you can’t help yourself but to dance a little jig around the stacks in your living room. Your script is bought! You’re making a movie! Jenna Ortega is coming back to your apartment tomorrow!
You stop dancing, the realization spreading over you. Jenna is coming back over tomorrow. You look around. You have some work to do before she comes back. You pick up your phone and call your best friend, you’re going to need his help if you’re going to get this place cleaned up.
He picks up after two rings.
“Nando. You are not gonna believe the fucking morning I’ve had. How soon can you get here?”
#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x y/n#Wednesday#vada cavell#tara carpenter#jenna ortega x fem!reader
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Amor y Respeto III: Mi Muñeca
❛ pairing | Miguel O’Hara x FB!Reader, platonic Hobie x Reader
❛ type | continuation, explicit.
❛ summary | there are some things you rather miguel would tell you about. primarily when they have to do with your body.
❛ chapter tags | fuckbuddies, f!reader, spanish is not translated, eating out v, possessiveness, overprotectiveness, mention of pregnancy tests, lying, disrespect, and some deceit.
❛ sy’s notes | Genuinely unsure if I should finish the last chapter on this fic, but here is what I've already written for those who have been asking me for an update.
Rest was an illusion.
The persistent pressure on your torso was an aggravation. It was a constant reminder of Miguel, saving your ass from a simple anomaly. At some point, your ease of breathing allowed you to close your eyes, but you would hardly call it sleep. The lull you found yourself in floated between the sea of amorphous rest and the shock that permeated your subconscious with Miguel’s outburst. It wasn’t that you never saw Miguel lash out. It was why. He gave you no good answers. A feeling you grew to expect.
You felt a shift of pressure in your frontal lobe, alerting you to a newcomer. Your eyes fluttered open, catching Miguel’s broad hands rolling back your cove of warmth to climb into bed beside you. You tracked the path of his veins tracking up his arms. Your lips spread, articulating languid words like ‘you’re back’ though you had no memory of speaking them.
“I am,” Miguel murmured.
His presence was warm and soothed the sick, gurgling fear that brewed in your belly. His warm hands snaked around your bandaged waist and dragged you back into his naked body. Your eyes darted between your bodies, trembling in his grip. The anxiety of being with Miguel returned, reminded that you had drawn a line that Miguel continually disrespected. As if respect was important here.
Miguel buried his nose into your messy hair, murky with specks of coppery blood and the scent of sweet coconut. You must have cracked your head somewhere, somehow. His scent overwhelmed your senses, drawing you back into his bed as if a peaceful blanket wrapped around your restless limbs. Holding a breath, you peered back up to his endlessly complex eyes. He endured your gaze.
Lyla? He murmured. No restful sleep was recorded.
“You were awake all night,” though it was tinged in his disapproval when it came out of his silky lips, you were relaxed. “Why?”
“You scared me.”
For a moment, Miguel said nothing. It was long enough that you began to wonder, to fear what his next words were. He slid his arm under your neck, urging you to come closer. His other hand drifted over your stomach, tracing his hand in small, mincing circles over your navel. You found your hands drifting to his chest, trying to find the courage to touch his tawny skin. The fear of rejection overrode it. Miguel’s hand drifted to yours, flattening it over his chest.
He tentatively trailed his hand up to cup the side of your face. You knew what he wanted before he brushed his lips against yours, locking them together with a gentle kiss. His lips tasted as if he had cut his mouth with his fangs, the coppery taste of his blood and the distant taste of a bitter cafecito on his lips. He pulled back, barely an inch, his eyes tracking the flakes in your shy eyes. Miguel lingered there, puffing slow breaths on your lips. You centered on the rise and drop of his chest. It was his only apology.
“You aren’t healing efficiently. I want to know why.” Miguel said, uninterested in your input. You were used to it-- being unimportant to Miguel’s actions. Somehow his concern warmed your fickle emotions. As if-- Miguel hadn’t been the man to be the cause of your lapsing focus. “Lyla will run some tests.”
“Just me and you!” she chirped. Her fingers pointed toward you, then her, hands forming a heart. Your lips parted, glancing toward Lyla dancing on his shoulder. Your palm caressed his firm pecs, searching for the right words to calm Miguel.
“No. I feel fine. Just-- tired. I’m always tired.”
“I’m not asking, muñeca.”
“It’s my body.”
“I know,” he said dryly. “What does that change?”
“It changes everything, Miggy. I said no,” you stiffened, looking from his unmoving eyes to your hands on his chest. “You never listen to me. You never-- respect me.”
You pushed yourself up, your fingers ghosting your tender chest. You peeled free the bloodied bandages. For a moment, you expected him to stop you, to tell you what you were doing wrong. But he didn’t. His eyes followed the string of crispy bloodied bandages as you set them to the side. Fibers of your regenerative skin strung over gooey blood and emergent muscle. It should have been healed by then. He was right, again.
“This isn’t about respect. You could have died,” your fingers delved into the wound, sensitive and sore. He was right. You knew he was right. You turned your head down, watching his stern, dry expression morph and deepen, becoming deathly serious. “The anomaly would have trampled you.”
Imagine that headline.
“Una noche más.”
His fingertips dragged up, then down, your spine. He settled a small kiss on your shoulder, his lips urging complacency. Warmth blossomed on your shoulder and traveled up your neck. You knew better than to expect that one more night, una noche más, would be the end of it. “It’s never good enough for you, Miguel. No matter what I do, I’m never--”
“If you’d listen to me, it would be,” he shifted back onto the bed, laying flat. “Come here.”
“You want me complacent. Hobie was--”
“What about Hobie?” He sneered. Hobie was right. Completely, terribly right about Miguel. The more you fought Miguel, the tighter his restrictions would become. He couldn’t be satisfied. Miguel grasped your hand, guiding you to sit on his hips. “If you think he knows so well, where was he?”
Your lips opened, parted, uncertain. His palms swirled around your stomach, up your sides, guiding you closer along his taut muscles. You complied, crawling closer up his body. As a scientist, Miguel worked with the facts. Yet somehow he had you under his spell, and the magic that cast it was his large hands, stroking your pubic mound gently. You and your traitorous body.
“He’s not here. I am. I am always here when you need me.”
“Not in the same way.”
“I love you,” he spat out, sharp and hard and not at all the ways that you always dreamed he would say it. As if you should be thankful to be chosen. “You need to be safe.”
His thumb quirked between your lips, separating you for his consideration alone. You brought your hands up to hold your chest, watching how he rolled his thumb along your clit, urging it in circles. You didn’t want to get wet for him, not now. You thought this was done, resolved. He knew how to tear through your resolve. Tear it open as if it were a forcefield and force his way back in.
His love? It ain’t enough.
In a battle between the heart and the body, your body would always win out. Miguel knew the ways you liked to be touched, dragging the wet lubricant between your wet thighs, dragging it down if only to show you that he could. His hand fell away. You leaned into his large palm, missing its gentle caress.
“What do I do with that, Miggy?” Miguel brought his hand back up, sliding along your inner folds to your entrance. He hooked a finger into your hole, stroking the velvety walls.
“Think of it.”
At the end of the day, you were his. The way he shoved himself in, the base of his finger flush with your lips, twisting and wiggling his thumb along the bundles of nerves primed for his touch. Your eyes fluttered shut, pressing together as to avoid his half-lidded eyes, chin raised in indignation, lips… so soft, so fuckable.
“Look at me, muñeca.”
“No quiero mirarte.”
A soft, fluttery pressure let you know his other hand was at your hard clit, causing flutters of pressure and the threat of relief to burrow in your belly. Then he stopped. It grew like a nasty parasite, urging you to listen.
“Then tell me you didn’t fuck him.”
Your eyes shot open, glaring incredulously at him. “Fuck him? Mi alma--”
His lips curled, indignantly smirking at you. “You’re mine, you know that, don’t you?”
“Sí, Miguel.”
“Good girl. Don’t forget that.” Miguel shifted to pull you on top of his face. Having given him everything her wanted, he slurped along your wet pussy, dragging his tongue over your slit. He laved your body in his saliva, a reminder that you were so-- fucked, so his. He rumbled along your clit, buzzing it with the vibration, before enclosing his mouth around it. That’s it-- that’s all it took for you to douse him in the cum he so wanted, slathering his face in your lubricant, your climax. He looked beautiful. There was some part of you, greedy and fat with the sight of his ruined face, that wanted more. If that made you complicit, well… you’d be complicit. All for him.
“You’re feeling better.” Miguel shifted your hips off his face, rubbing the cum off his lips with the back of his hand. Your fingers pawed at the gash on your chest, finding the skin healed and soft to the touch.
You hated that he was right.
“Tests?” Gwen asked. “What kind of tests?”
The cafeteria was always loud, but lately, the sounds and scents were more intolerable. Everything in your head was a blaring siren. Protein this, protein that. Too much mustard. Vivid blue burgers, you churned your lips down in a frown of disapproval. It was… goopy. Gwen picked up on it and picked one up.
“Blue burgers can’t be normal,” she hopped a few steps ahead of you to pick up an empanada because you always got empanadas for Miguel when you were together. You turned your nose up at it. “What about this?”
“Is anything here normal?”
Gwen shot you a small, deprecating smile. “Yeah… well.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just-- tired. The tests. Well, my regenerative abilities are tied to my emotions,” you dug into your pocket, shaking free a bit of polished, reflective azurite that had launched into your wound from home. You chucked it at her. She caught it with one palm, gazing into its depths. “When I’m a mess-- they’re a mess.”
“Just emotions?” she stood there, processing. “What if it's something else?”
“Then it's something else,” You skated around her, looking at bland white rice. It was as good as a comfort food when combined with your favorite chicken stew. It would have to do. You snatched the crusty empanada from her palm, plopping it on top of the food.
“I thought you hated em--”
“I do,” you mumbled, picking up her tray and scurrying down the busy line. You couldn’t help but notice that a few let you slip by. “And… Hobie?”
“Y’know, worried about you,” she snatched her tray back, doing something funny with her fingers. “But he’s good. Good, good right? I think he’s good. You’re coming to the concert, right?”
You wove past a spider or ten, taking your favorite table that somehow was empty. Gwen slid to sit down, fingers strumming across the surface. She always did that-- talked when she was nervous. Your eyes panned from her clothed fingertips to her busy eyes, darting away from yours at the point of contact.
“You’re panicking,” you prompted. “¿Por qué?”
“No reason,” she fell off her train of thought. She was holding back. “It’s just-- why don’t you come to see Hobie at the concert? It’s safe, mostly.”
“Did he tell you that I wasn’t?” You let your hand slide over the side of the table, sitting with a huff of exhaustion. Lack of sleep would do that. “I’ll go see you both. I… I just made a bit of a mess of things.”
She blinked. Once, then twice.
“Miguel doesn’t like Hobie,” you stuck your fork into your rice, taking an annoyed chomp of your food. “Ni un poco. He never has.”
“We thought you broke up with Miguel.”
“Me too.” You choked down another bite of food. Her concerned eyes glazed over your body, loitering around your waist. You wiped away a bit of grain that had tumbled onto your gown, realizing that it wasn’t just Gwen staring at you. Tear-shaped eyes of all kinds and creeds were staring at you. That’s what you got for fucking Miguel. It was as good as a spider beacon on your back.
“I won’t miss it. Just-- trust me.”
After a moment, a smile grew on her face. Always complicated, but always genuine. You didn’t mind complicated. It seemed that you thrived on the whirlwind of chaos lately. Her sweet smile was the easiest of the sensations to deal with.
“You wanna get out of here? We can go to your place.”
It should have been a relief to be so close to Miguel, in his bed, in his arms for the second day in a row. Instead, you found yourself craving the peaceful quiet of your home. The glittering crystals bouncing off the rays of the sun, the villains of the week, and the sensation of soaring from your webbing. Nights of watching terrible movies and clearing out pints of ice cream with Gwen. The works.
“You promised Miguel you would stay in HQ,” Lyla interjected over your shoulder.
You spun your spoon between your fingers, gazing into Gwen’s big eyes as she ate. She stared at the hologram with one last meager bite. Lyla tapped her foot. Your eyebrows furrowed. Had she been listening to you the whole time?
“Miguel has blocked your travel capabilities.”
You dropped the heavy fork and fiddled with your watch, expecting the whizzing sing of a portal back home, but in its place was a long pause of awkward silence. Gwen sat in silence. You sat in silence. Everyone sat in silence. Somehow, you weren’t shocked. You stabbed a hunk of chicken, snapping the fork in two. You dropped the handle, wiping your hands against one another.
Of course, he did.
“Déjame ir contigo.”
Jess knew something was off. She reclined against her bike, one leg over another, hands lazing over her distended midsection. You were a bundle of energy, eyes were hard and cold, rivaling Miguel’s. Jess wondered why-- you were never hard and cold. Even when he deserved it. From the look of it, he definitely deserved it. She didn’t understand Spanish, but at a certain point, you didn’t have to.
“Ya te dije que no.”
“¿Porque no?” you hissed. “You put me on a travel restriction. I want to know why.”
“There’s no time.”
“I can go,” Jess said. “No travel restrictions here.”
He threw her a look. You drew your hand up to his chest. Miguel peeled your fingers from his chest, teetering his fingers along the amber screen of his watch. In response, the portal sang to life, a whirling ring of power.
“I said no. You’re staying. You, too,” he pointed at Jess. She raised her eyebrows up from behind her amber sunglasses. He took a few lazy steps back before turning, fading into the portal. “I don’t need backup.”
Until he did.
Jess wasn’t concerned about it. In due time, Lyla would call her. She shifted on her boots as you stood there, hand on your hip, boring at the emptiness after the portal drew to a close. Your hand balled up into a fist, stomping in her direction. She couldn’t help but call you by name.
“You’re pregnant.”
“I know you’re pregnant,” you turned around, your eyes softening. Concerned. Honestly, she knew you were thinking something was wrong with her. That was the kind of woman you were. “Are you--”
“Not me. You. You’re puffy,” she said in a voice devoid of humor. You blinked. Then burst into deep laughter. Jess, for her part, was unmoved. She simply looked down at her boots and waited for your laughter to fizzle into a few misplaced giggles of nervousness.
“Puffy? Jess, I already blew out a fallopian tube,” you said as though you didn't have another. “I am not pregnant. I can’t get pregnant.”
“Okay,” she threw her hands up, laxly swinging her leg around her bike. She plopped her weight onto the bike, revving it to life. “You sure about that?”
“Sí. No. Lyla. Do I look puffy?” you couldn’t help but ask. A strand of truth must have niggled your brain. The admittance that she could have been right. Lyla popped up in a flash of gold, bent at the waist. She narrowed her eyes behind her oversized glasses, “Noooo, of course not.”
“...what were the test results?”
“Um.” She flicked her finger, teleporting from your shoulder to your waist. “Well. I don't know if now is the best time. Your heart rate was elevate--”
“The results, Lyla!”
You whirled the closest item, a chair, at one of Miguel’s many monitors. Lyla popped over your shoulder, then the other. “I can’t disclose that information.”
“It’s my body, Lyla, what do you mean you can’t disclose it?”
“You have to talk to Miguel.”
It wasn’t her fault. It was his.
Once upon a time, you worked in a hospital.
One with terribly damaged patients. Patients who saw the fires of war both out of the country and on the streets at home. You never questioned their battles but always promised: loving care and tons of laughter during their hospital stay-- even if the price was an annoying little dance.
Until you were bit. Miguel crashed into your life like a boulder down a hill. He thought he was smart. He had to be, to be a genius. It’s not that you debated that he thought he knew best. But his methods? Methods of operating in secrecy like he was back at Alchemax were unacceptable. You didn’t have to be a genius to question what he was doing. You only had to be pissed off.
“Are you sure about this?”
You wretched the elastic off your arm, holding a vial of blood upright. “Sí, Gwen,” you said. “I’ve never been surer.”
“We could… wait until he comes back.”
I love you. He wasn’t going to talk to you tonight. Whatever it was, you knew he could distract you. You also knew that Lyla had her eye on you. But, at the moment, Jess and Miguel were busy. If you were lucky, perhaps she wouldn’t be surveying you. You'd never have your answer if you left it up to Miguel. You knew one thing for certain: he wasn’t coming home to you tonight. You settled the vial in her hands.
“No, we can’t.”
There were many reasons why love was bad for Miguel. For one, it resulted in destroying the very expensive screens in the lab with his claws alone. Garbled bits of tech, sparking and hissing on the platform floor. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell, flecks of the dying wire flickering against his scarlet eyes.
It wasn’t just the fact that you lied to him about Hobie. About how close Hobie had been. It wasn’t just the fact that you called him Corazón. Or the fact that doubt lingered in his mind, gnawing on the edge of his mind like a fizzling wire losing the last bits of its energy. Nor did it have anything to do with your taste in his mouth since last night. Not at all. “Shock.”
“Soooo if you’re done--,” Lyla mechanically chirped, curling her index finger at Miguel, then her pad. “About her resu--”
“Not now.”
“Hobie’s coming,” she twirled, pointing toward the open entryway of his lab. Miguel’s attention snapped toward the entryway, listening to Hobie’s loud steps coming closer, and closer, and unfortunately-- closer. He didn’t have the temperament for him right now.
“Are you… going to see him or keep breaking things?”
He jammed his heel on top of the sparking screens, his brow furrowing with lines of frustration. “Replace this, Lyla.”
“O-kay.”
That spider punk leaped onto his platform, hauling his scrawny legs up with a start. His scent flooded his nose for yet a second day in a row. Two more, too many times. “Where’s my partner at?”
“Work with Gwen until I say otherwise.”
Hobie made a small huff. As he ambled around Miguel, he found his pile of electronic garbage. He kneeled to pick through bits and bobs of the pile while balancing on his long ruddy boots. Miguel didn’t have time for this. He had one damn good screen left. And that one damn screen was as incriminating as the broken screens by his feet. He scanned the report, scowling under his breath, and cleared the screen.
“Nah, nah, nah. That don’t work on me.”
“It’ll have to. She’s on light duty.”
“You’re telling me a bunch of porkies.” Hobie lifted a sparking cord. Dropped it. Ran his palms together with a look of derision. Then, sprung up from his position and took a step forward.
“Porkies?”
“Lies.” Hobie clarified. His small and mincing steps covered the space between their bodies. Miguel’s patience was fizzling, causing ripples of tension to course down his arms to his very fingertips. He stifled it. For whatever reason, you respected this one. He had to chew his annoyance. “Why?”
“She’s not paying attention. She’s not healing. There have been…” Miguel paused abruptly. As though he was trying to convince Hobie as much as himself of whatever bullshit he was about to spew. “Accidents.”
Hobie rolled his tongue over his lower lip, teasing the piercings there, before making a particularly egregious pop of his lip. The sound alone made Miguel’s lip curl.
“Accidents? What the “Accident” you put in her belly?” Hobie slipped behind Miguel. He lingered there a second too long.
Hobie’s words pulsed in his head like a great, painful beacon of alarm. The last few months of his life were on display like the popping tech by his feet. The air in the room had gone thick, stifling as though it were poisonous to breathe in of itself. You were too trusting, too open to other spiders in your life, as though they couldn’t have plans of their own.
“Get out.”
Miguel produced thick breaths, his eyes focused on the last flickers of electricity fading out into a blank death by his feet. Hobie’s dark, heady eyes left the sight of the dead tech and met Miguel’s eyes. His lips, scarcely a smile, lifted. He didn’t have to tell Hobie twice.
Miguel thrashed his last screen.
#miguel o'hara x you#miguel ohara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara/reader#atsv imagines#atsv imagine#across the spiderverse imagines#spider 2099 imagine
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A Random Dark Resus Fantasy
(TW: Negative outcome)
Unable to open my eyes, I hear Alison's smokey voice.
"Alex... Alex, wake up!"
She jostles my shoulders, her warm hands on my rapidly cooling body.
"Alex! Damnit!"
I feel the force of her fist drive into the center of my chest, her violent precordial thump not enough to convert the chaotic jumble of electric impulses in my chest to a productive rhythm.
She fumbles through the "play" drawer next to our bed and finds the EKG tabs. Dotting my chest and connecting the leads is easy work for her. Flicking on the monitor, the wavy green line confirms what she already instinctively knew. My heart is fibrillating worthlessly in my chest.
I'll never know if she called out the rhythms of the code for herself or for me.
"He's in V-Fib. Charging the paddles to 200."
I hear her pick up the paddles out of the cradle. The drawer opening and the sound of the gel tube being flicked open desperately. Gel squirting onto the cold metal plates. Dropping the gel tube onto the floor in a state of panic.
The feeling of the paddles pressed into my idle chest is indescribable.
"Clear!"
My chest jerks as the current slams my ill-behaving heart. I fall back limp. The alert on the monitor pauses, then resumes screaming.
"Still fibrillating. Charging 300. Come back to me, baby. Please."
She doesn't remove the paddles from my chest. I feel her drag them around in my chest hair. I desperately want to feel the shock again.
"C'mon baby. Clear!"
300 joules feels like seductive fire across my entire body. I want to rise to meet her. My body does, indeed, rise. But then it falls back limp.
"Still fibrillating. Fuck! C'mon Alex, don't do this to me."
I don't want to, but I can't force my heart to beat.
"Charging 360... clear!"
The maximum power shock sends my being over the edge. It feels like I'm orgasming, even though I'm clinically dead. Pleasure surging across every inch of my body.
The alarm pauses. It comes back, but it's changed.
"Flatline. Fuck, Alex! No! Come back to me!!!"
Dropping the paddles to the floor, I feel Alison's plump, warm lips seal over mine. I want to kiss her, make my tongue dance with hers. But it won't respond. I can only feel every amazing action that she's taking to save my life.
Her warm air makes my chest rise, fall. Rise, fall.
The flatline is broken only by her powerful chest compressions. I feel my idle heart squeeze between my spine and my ribs. Alison counts off the compressions.
The feeling begins to fade. Everything begins to cloud. Her voice muffles.
"Alex, no... you can't do this to me... come back..."
She pauses compressions and the muffled flatline resumes. She lifts my head, pinches my nose, and seals her lips over mine again.
Nothing.
More compressions. More mouth-to-mouth.
I hear her screaming at me, but I can't make out the words.
Just the flatline tone, trailing off as the darkness takes me.
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