#and then gun's literally CRAWLING out of his skin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grugruel · 5 months

Text

Wicked Game

Pairings: cop!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: An out of control college party gets crashed by cops, someone tattled, and a cop chase ensues.

The chief is an old friend of your family, who you'd always had a crush on.

Thinking he's harmless, you talk back. But he can only hold back for so long.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: reader is 20, pinv sex, rough sex, oral sex (m and f recieving), choking, uniform kink, sir kink, reader being bratty, bucky doing something about it!! edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, handjob, fingering, pet names (girl, doll), praise (yay), mentions of masturbation, slight marking, degrading ish? cum eating, creampie, power dynamic, some soft!bucky at the end.

AN: This is not a Lee bodecker fic! This is just regular, muscly cop!bucky.

Blaring music and thumping bass fill an already crowded house, drunk daredevils otherwise inhabiting it.

God, my skull feels like it's about the cave in. The average college experience in other words.

I'd been drinking the least out of my friends, yet I felt the worst. They sat on the couch around me, trying the wide assortment of drugs that were splayed out in front of us. Littering the table along with various hard liqour bottles, all mostly empty.

Drugs arent my forte, but I wont nark them.

The party had only been going for an hour or so, I think? My lockscreen told me it was 2 in the night, holy shit? It had been 5 hours.

How the hell had no one called the cops yet? Little did I know, how badly I jinxed myself.

'Guys, Guys.' I lazily shrugged the shoulders of two of my friends sitting on each side of me, 'We- we, gotta go.'

'We're fine!' One of them drawled, splaying out on the couch.

I shook my head, head thumping in each bend, 'Theres literally. . .' I paused, searching tiredly for the right words, 'Uhm- No way! That the cops arent on their way here like, right now.'

'We've lasted this long.' The other said, shrugging his shoulders, grinning.

I groaned, 'Fine!' And threw my hands up in defeat, my friend observed me smugly. He held up some coke for me, raising his brows in question. To which I shook my head again.

A sharp alarm cut through the music, everyone groaned, heads complaining at the sound. I figured it was something with the sound system, but no.

I just had to jinx myself, remember?

As my ears adjusted to the sound, I realised. It's sirens, two or three. Cops.

'It's the fucking cops!' I shouted, alerting everyone. The music cut off, and the sirens clarified into the deafening sound of jail, or curfew. Depending on the cop. I was hoping and dreading the Chief in equal amounts, he could take it easy on me, or not.

I roused my friends, dragging them up from the couch and filtering them through the backdoor. Along with at least a hundred other people our age.

My attempts at freeing them had made me lag behind, one of my friends grabbed my arm, 'Come on!' She shouts, trying to pull me with them. But theres to many people between us and she loses her grip, swept away by the crowd.

The front door swings open behind me, and I freeze. Slowly turning around, I see a tall, broad shouldered figure standing silently observing the chaos from the doorway. He stepped inside, searching the crowd, and eventually. His eyes land on me.

'Give em' hell. Get the ones you can!' He barks the orders at his men, and then his eyes narrow in on me. Staring me down, 'And leave this one to me.' His words make my skin crawl, in fear of my parents finding out and possibly, excitement?

I wouldn't say no to punishment dealt by Chief Barnes.

His men rush past me out the backdoor, leading me to back up slowly. Placing the Coffee table between me and the Chief, securing myself somewhat.

Slowly, he stalks forward. A slanted smile growing with every step that he takes, making chills run up my spine. His uniform does him good I notice, shirt and pants sitting around his muscles perfectly. Belt and gun? Hot.

'Heeey, Buck.' I smile cheapishly, 'Fancy meeting you here.' Testing the waters, seeing what chances my charms have of easing the situation for myself.

He nods, raising his eyebrows in response and grins in spite, as if answering, "I'm sure it is" and "You're in deep fuckin shit now."

I laugh nervously and try again, 'I didn't know you enjoy college parties Buck? Or just, college girls?'

Amused, he steps closer, It's now only the table separating us. I step up on the couch behind me, desperately trying to make up for the space I'm losing. He puts his hands around his belt buckle, smirking. At least my incredibly funny self seems to have softened him.

He looks down, studying its content, then looks back up at me. His face turns displeased, undoing all my previous hard work to humour him.

I follow his gaze, looking at the table myself, and it dawns on me, 'No no no no!' I throw out in panic, 'Listen, Buck. . .'

'What could you possibly have to say-' he began and lowered his head, giving me a serious look, 'To get yourself out of this one?' referring to the table.

'I can think of a few things, I might have an ace in my sleeve.' I smirk. Metaphoricly speaking of course, my blouse does not have long sleeves.

He takes a firm step closer, a bemused look on his face, 'Ok Ok! It's not mine! It's not, mine.' I gesture to myself, then to the table in erratic motions. 'I'm an innocent bystander, I just sat on the couch. Never even touched the stuff.' I hold my hands up, palms out. As if it would stop him.

'Theres nothing innocent about you girl.' He tells me sternly, the corner of his lip tugging.

Stunned, there's a sudden flutter in my stumache.

Suddenly, the energy between us change. The tension grows and the look in his eyes turn hungry, like a hunter watching its prey.

'Pinky promise?' I ask, shrugging cheapishly.

He takes a few quick steps toward me, rounding the table. But I run to the end of the couch, making sure that the table is still between us. Butterflies surge through my body, giddy from excitement. This is the most fun I'd had all night. 'Buck, let's- lets be civil about this, alright? Let's just talk.' I giggle.

He chuckles, 'Oh, you think this is funny?'

Nodding, 'Kind of, yes. . .' I tease.

'We're far past talking.' He breathes, 'Had I been anyone else, had I not known your parents, you would've been in cuffs by now.'

My eyes turn mischievous, 'Whats stopping you?' I tilt my head, 'I assure you, I wouldn't mind.' And grin.

He chews the inside of his cheek, then charges, and I run, swivelling to avoid solo cups and various balloons on the floor. I hear his footsteps behind me, catching up. My agility is nothing compared to his raw muscle and speed, but I swerve into the kitchen, adrenaline kicking in. And manage to take cover behind the kitchen island.

Bucky grinds to a halt, slamming his palms into the counter, catching himself against it. Once again, im in safety. For a while at least.

'Youre gonna have to be faster than that.' I pant, grinning. He meets my eyes, pure animalistic tendencies behind them. The look on his face has me biting my lip, I couldn't wait for him to catch me. 'C'mon Chief.' I purr.

And somethings in his eyes ignite at the word, oh?

'Chief?' I test and he grunts, eyes glaring at me through his eyebrows. Naturally, I delve deeper, 'You feeling quite alright. . . Sir?'

He tilts his head with a jerk, then laughs 'You've done it now.' Those are warning words. Then he jumps, sliding over the counter.

'Holy shit!' I squeek as I take of running, narrowly avoiding his grasp. I run through the house with Bucky right on my heels, nothing but the the thrill of the chase keeping me going.

I run out by the backdoor, then stupidly enough, take a right. Into a garden, a fenced in garden. The high type of fence too. I regret my decision the second I see notice it, but its to late. Buckys steps slow behind me, and I slow to a stop myself as I come face to face with a dead-end. 'Oh, fuck me.' I breathe, absolutely exhausted.

'Famous last words, doll.' He cuckles between pants.

I turn around and smile through the pain, 'Ha ha! Funny guy. What. A funny. Guy.' I clench my teeth, sighing.

My eyes lock onto his frame, hands on his hips as he's catching his breath. Mesmerized I stare, men in uniform, huh? Im starting to see the appeal.

Slowly, he begins walking toward me, prowling like a tiger. He grabs hold of his belt, pulling it upward to adjust his pants.

God damn.

My uterus is aching, my entire body is aching. I would've drooled if I hadnt come to my senses, escaping. Right.

I make a break for it. In one quick motion, I turn around and jump. Grabbing hold of the upper ledge of the fence and pull myself up, my feet scrambling against the wood to find some sort of purchase. But im too slow, too focused. I didn't even hear him come up behind me, but I did feel his big hands on my waist.

He yanks me down and pushes me toward the fence, his body flush against my back. I gasp and he digs his fingertips into my waist, making sure I don't escape again. His touch makes me yearn for more, I want it deeper.

He levels his head with mine, leaning in close to my ear. Close enough to feel his hot breathing against the skin on my neck, 'I got you now.' He whispers, making my skin prickle with goosebumps and setting of a pulse deep below my stumache. But I wasn't willing to give up just yet. With my hands free, I pry his own from my waist and turn around, pushing him back by the chest.

Now. . . The intention was to push him hard enough to give me space to run past, but. . .

He barely budged, he grabbed my wrists and pushed me back against the fence, pinning my body between the wood and himself. Wrists in hand, he anchored my arms to my sides by grabbing onto the fabric of my skirt. Rouching it, he helt the flesh of my ass under his fingers.

I laugh nervously, 'You're not gonna tell mom and dad are you?'

He just chuckles, fuck im truly, in deep shit.

I try wriggling free from his grip, but he holds my wrists tighter, carefully slamming them into the fence above my head and leans against me. Leaving zero space for me to move, every curve of our bodies complete the others, I swear I can feel his bulge against my hip. He moves his face closer to mine, needing me to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. When I do, a self-satisfied smile covers his lips. His face inches from my own, we were basically sharing one breath as his lips barely brush over mine. 'You gonna be a good girl for me and behave?' He asks, breathing heavily.

I whine, he can't possibly turn me on more. 'Depends.' I say.

''Yeah?' He practically whimpers.

I close the distance between our lips, but he pulls back and smiles, teasing me. I meet his eyes and we look at eachother intently, as if entranced, I cant break contact.

He lets go of my wrists and traces his hands down my arms, all the way down to my hands. Chills run amock over my body, I close my eyes and lean in again, but suddenly-

I hear a clasp, then another and I can just feel him smirk against me. My eyes go wide and I realise, 'You didn't.' glaring at him.

'I did.' He laughs, 'What made you think you were in a position to negotiate?'

I look down and sure enough, cuffs bind my wrists together. Shocked, my mouth falls open. I didnt even feel him reach for them.

He backs up and grabs my arm, pulling me with him. 'Could you at least let me off around the corner from our house?' I ask as we make our way toward his car, he glaces down at me but doesnt answer, 'So they dont see me get dropped off in a cruiser, you know?' He opens the front door for me, and helps me inside, 'And maybe avoid talking to them for a few weeks, you'd really be doing me a favor, Buck.' And without a word, he closes the door and walks around to his side. Getting in and driving off.

The first portion of the ride is silent, he'd done what he had to, to catch me. Damn.

Luckily for me though, the party was a long way from home. Meaning I have some time to devise a plan.

I look at my cuffs, carefully observing them. Hmm. . . I yank my hands apart, trying the strength of the schackles, hoping the sound would gather his attention.

This was a game of chance, a game of seduction and persuasion.

Gently, I tickle the skin on my upper knee, 'I really didnt do any drugs y'know.' tracing back and forth with my fingertips, acting somber. Then lay my hand flat against my thigh, squeezing it absentmindedly. Continuing with rubbing small, firm circles with my index finger into my skin and turn to look out of the window.

Bucky clears his throat. The reaction I was looking for, perfect.

I spread my legs slightly, letting my hands slide down either side of my thigh. Clasping them together underneath and slide them up along my thigh. The skirt catching on my cuffs, revealing more and more of my-

-his hand flies to my thigh, hooking the cuff over his thumb and squeezing my flesh. Keeping me from showing anything more. Fuck, my core is throbbing from that alone.

'Buck?' I ask innocently.

'Dont' he croaks, voice sounding pained.

'Sorry-' I pause, glancing at him carefully. His eyes are fixed sternly on the road, 'We could talk about this like adults you know, make a deal.' He squeezes my thigh harder, I lift one hand with the restricted movements of my cuffs and caress his fingertips, 'A real good deal, benefitial for the both of us' I suggest.

'You talk too much for your own good, girl.'

'I'm not quite sure what you mean, Sir?. .' I bite my lip as he looks over at me, meeting my eyes through my lashes. 'You wouldn't tell on me to my parents, would you?' I ask, giving him my best puppy eyes.

He looks away, sitting silently until the next exit comes up. He flashes his indicators and turn off the main road, parking in an empty clearing.

'You want a deal, doll?' He asks, looking straight ahead. Sliding the cuffs off his thumb as his hand travel downward, fingertips sliding under my skirt, knuckles brushing over my clothed clit. Lust flashes through my nerves, and I gasp.

'A deal, or you. Both sound good to me.' I whisper, on the edge of my seat. Eagerly awaiting his answer, waiting for him.

He looks back at me, meeting my eyes with a fiendish grin, 'Then put that big mouth of yours to use.' He orders.

Nodding enthusatically, I lean over. Unbuckling his belt and zip down his pants, I reach into his boxers and fuuuuck, my hands barely fit around him. I pull him out and pull my hands to my mouth, wetting my fingers before returning them. One hand carefully stroking small circles around his tip, while the other strokes him up and down in cylindrical motions along his shaft.

The chief of police bites his lip, muffling a whimper as I move faster, 'Uhh- mmm. .' He hums, 'Yes- yes, doll. Fuck. .' He stutters.

Such a strong man crumbling under the touch of a woman, it was turning me on like nothing ever has, the power I hold is surprising.

His fingers move under my panties and slide along my slit, making it my turn to moan. I Buck my hips to give him better access, and he dips his fingers inside me. Pumping them slowly as he's getting them wet, then slides up to my clit, circling around it. 'Holy-' I gasp, 'Shit.'

We buck our hips to the others touch, leaning against the other, shoulder to shoulder, temple to temple. Moaning breathely. Our lips finally meeting in a needy kiss, tounges moving with the rhythm of our bodies. 'Please, doll. Be a good girl.' He begs between our lips.

Fuck me, that heartbeat in my utherus spread in pulses through out my entire body.

I grin and pull back. Leaning over, I carefully lick the leaking cum off his tip clean, then take him in my mouth. I swirl my tongue around his head, licking greedily. Tasting the salt of him. I push deeper, sucking his length into my mouth. The sloppy sounds of saliva and lips were vulgar inte the most intoxicating way. His hand continues massaging my clit while the other snakes into my hair, grabbing a fistful and aiding my movements. Helping me set merciless pace.

Bucky groans, our strokes growing in greed as we close in on our releases. He shoves two big fingers into my core, curling at just the right spot. Pleasure surge through me, leaving me to stuff my throat with his member, muffling a scream as I topple over the edge. I feel him come right after, my mouth filling with his seed and hearing his moan of completion. The bitterness of salt waa overwhelming to my tastebuds, I swallow what I can and pull myself off.

Leaving a sloppy mess around my mouth, I sit back and smile. Breathing heavily as I regain my strength, Bucky looks at me and laughs, 'You got something right here.' gesturing circles around his mouth, reffering to mine. I wide my mouth clean with my thumb and suck it off, Bucky smiles proudly at the sight. Then brings his own fingers to his mouth, sucking my juices off of them.

Heat ignites within me once again.

Bucky cups my face with one hand and pulls me into a kiss. The tastes of eachother mixing, I can't quite tell what is what. But it's wonderful. Bucky pulls free and looks at me, I give him a hazy, expectant look. He strokes my cheek with his thumb and slides out of the car, walking around to my side. I furrow my eyebrows as he helps me out of the passenger seat. He pulls me to the hood of the car, pushing himself against me until the back of my legs hit the grill. He leans in and whispers against my ear, 'Still need to punish ya.' He drawls, a shiver running through my spine.

'Im begging you Chief.' I look at him thtough hooded, lustfilled eyes, 'Please punish me.' I groan, smiling.

His dick twitched at the word, making him close his eyes to keep his composure. Then suddenly bends down and finds purchase under my knees. In one swift motion, he pulls, and I fall back onto the hood, 'Wanting it defeats the purpose, doll.' He growls, then opens his eyes. But the sight before him makes him unravel.

Upperbody bent to the side in an effort to prop myself up on my forearms, thanks to my cuffs. Skirt over my hips and legs spread, core exposed and ready for him.

'Do you worst, please. Sir. . .' I whisper and grin.

His eyes snap to mine, and that "You're in for it now.' Expression returns, 'Fuckin brat.' He spits.

Then, he kneels. He fuckin kneels. A shiver runs up my spine a the sight, 'Some punishment, huh?' I ask, but he only smirks. Hooking my legs over his shoulders, and grabbing each thigh to keep them spread, then, without warning, he dives in.

I bite my cheek to stop myself from screaming, pulses of pleasure run through me like electric currents. He pushes his tongue inside me, feverishly licking at my juices, exploring my walls, burrying his face in my cunt. Nose pushing up against my clit, making my back arch deliciously. 'That all you can do?' I tease, grinding my hips against his nose, desperate to get some friction. But his eyes meet mine, glaring as he moves his hands to my hips, holding me steady.

He pulls back for a second, just to spit on my cunt, then hastily returning, chasing my clit. I gasp, burrying my cuffed hands in his hair, pulling him closer as I want more. Making him moan against me, his voice vibrating against my clit. My sight blurs from the pleasure, a knot tightening inside me 'More.' I beg, 'So close.'

His tongue slide out of me, and I whine. But he licks a stipe up my cunt and then attatches at my clit, sucking and nipping at my sensitivity. My body jolts, and I shut my eyes. 'You gonna cum?' He asks, voice muffled.

I can barely answer, pleasure overwhelming me as white specks my vision, 'Ye- yeah. . ' I moan, 'So close, ju- just like th-' I begin, about to reach my climax again, but suddenly.

He let's go, pushing himself off of my clit with on last lick and sits back on his heels, watching my unravel.

'No, please, Buck.' I squrim, whining at the loss of him. I try to pull him back, but he doesn't budge. 'I'm begging, please, please.' I whimper, closing my legs and pushing them together, moving my hips for any sort of friction to finish what he started.

'Mouthy brats dont get to cum.' He chuckles and grab my knees to pull them apart. I feel a tear roll down my cheek as the knot loosens again. In a last desperate effort, I pull my hands from his hair, burrying two fingers in me while my thumb rubs my clit. Just for a second, that exctatic feeling returns, blissful sparks ignite, until- he pushes his body between my legs to keep my thighs in place and grab my wrists, ripping them from my cunt. Then laughs, he laughs.

'Not funny.' I whimper.

'It is. . . Im not done even done yet.' He says, face glistening with my juices.

I fall back against the hood groaning, as the ache in my core reaches my bones. 'I need you so bad.' I whisper.

'What was that?' He asks.

'I need you. Buck please.' I whimper.

'Can't quite hear you, doll.' He mocks, hands squeezing tighter around my wrists.

'I fuckin need you inside me, ok?' I almost shout, 'Fuck me, hard. I'm begging, jus- just need you in me.'

'Yeah?' He laughs, standing up. Hooking his hands under my knees and slide me closer to him. His hand trace my skin to my waist, getting a tight grib. Then, in one smooth motion, he flips me to my stumache.

I can't help but gasp, 'Think you can act like a brat all night, and get away with it?' He asks, smaking my ass once. I yelp, the sting making my eyes water in the most delicious way. He lines himself up with my entrance, pushing on it slightly. His tip breeching.

'Please.' I whimper, muttering a string of curses. And without warning, he shoves himself inside. Again, I bite my cheek. Pleasure rolls through me, electrocuting every nerve. He grabs my hips, sinking his fingertips deep into my skin. Silently, I beg for them to leave bruises. Theres nothing hotter than a souvenir to remember him by.

He sets a hard pace, thrusting deeply. Pulling back almost all the way before forcefully pushing himself inside again, over and over. My brain doesnt function, I can't form words, all I can do is moan. The sound of slapping skin perfectly lewd in my ear. 'Harder Buck.' I request.

He leans down, grabbing my throat and pulling me flush against his chest, pushing his nose into my cheek, 'Yeah? This not enough for you?' He asks, grunting in my ear.

'Not enough, more.' I mewl.

His hand tightens his grip around my throat, cutting off just enough air to give me a dizzying euphoria. His other hands come down on my ass again, smacking hard as he thrusts deeper. Then re-grips your hip, using it to push and pull your, making our bodies come together even harder, 'Greedy girl, cant fuckn get enough huh?' He groans between breaths, hot against your skin.

I shake my head, the only answer I can manage as I feel my walls twitching, closing around him. He can feel it too, his hips stutter, throwing his thrusts of balance. He bites my ear, lightly tugging on it before kissing my cheek gently, then kissing down my neck.

A stark contrast to the rest of his movements, it's enough to make my head spin. It's almost too much. I feel the blinding pleasure threatening to spill inside me, 'You wanna cum girl?' He asks against the crook of my neck. I nod my head enthusiastically. 'Words doll, use your words.' He breathes.

'Ye- Yes, please.' I manage, 'Wanna cum so fucking bad, Chief.'

He grunts, hand slipping from my throat to my breasts, working them roughly. Palming, squeezing, pinching 'C'mon, cum for me doll.' He says between pants and immidietly, I topple over the edge. Pleasure blinding me as he continues thrusting, continues to assault my breasts. My body begins spasming, and my knees go week, 'Bucky. . . Fuck-' I groan, but he holds me up. All my senses feel like they're about to burst as he prolongs my orgasm, stretching it out in an exhuastingly wonderful way. He bites down on my shoulder, squeezing my breasts, muffled grunts escaping him as his own body spasms and his thrusts halt, his member finally filling me with seed.

He collapses on top of me as we catch our breaths, im so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.

I close my eyes for a second, but doesnt register Bucky pushing himself off of me, or him gathering me in his arms and laying me in the backseat. I don't feel him wrap his jacket around me, or the ride home.

But I do rouse from my sleep as Bucky carries me into my room and lays me down in my bed, he kisses me on the forehead, 'Hey doll.' He whispers, a soft smile on his lips.

I panic slightly as I realise that I'm home, 'Mom n' dad?' I ask anxiously.

'I made a good excuse, don't worry.' He strokes some hair from my face, 'Sleep. You need it. I'll go easier on you next time.' He promises.

'Next time?' I ask, a tired smile covering my face.

'Next time.' He assures, and you drift back to sleep. He stands up and walks to the doorway, silently watching you with admiring eyes as he carefully closes the door.

He tells your parents a made up backstory and they understand, happy to see him. They invite him to dinner next weekend and he happily accepts, he'd do anything to see you again.

He thinks about you the entire car ride home, in the shower as he beats himself off and in the morning as he wakes up with a hard on from dreams off you clenching around him.

He can do nothing but count the days until he sees you again, guranteeing himself it will be a memorable occasion.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky imagine #bucky fanfiction

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frenchkisstheabyss · 5 months

Text

🖤 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖆𝖓 🖤

🖤 Pairing: ex boyfriend!choi san x chubby!fem!reader (mingi's spoken about but doesn't appear)

🖤 Genre: angst/fluff/smut

🖤 Summary: You make a living stepping on men's necks, literally and metaphorically speaking. Men spend every dime they have for the chance to be your lapdog. You are their weakness. Your dirty little secret? You have a weakness of your own, one you've tried your hardest to leave in the past, but you've managed to make him jealous and, oh, I think he's knocking on your door right now.

🖤 Word Count: 2.3k-ish

🖤 Warnings: reader works as a dom so she does qualify as a ✨sex worker✨ & it's treated as a positive cause slay queen, jealous /possessive San, unprotected sex, fingering, nibbling, scratching, reader for sure has a lil praise kink, this man does not pull out, San's giving dom vibes & reader's quite subby for him, pet names (baby, my girl, good girl) & that's all darlings

🖤 A/N: My chubby girl smut agenda continues with this fic as it will with all others and the best part is, no one can stop me. Mwahahahaha. No, but really, I hope you lovelies enjoy reading it.

Also a big thanks to @anyamaris for test reading everything my brain throws out all of the time. Love of my life, truly.

Your night routine is sacred. Never more so than on nights like tonight when you take extra steps to make it particularly romantic for yourself. You treat yourself like a lover, running a nice warm bubble bath and preparing your favorite fruits to snack on while you soak in it. You don’t rush to cover your body afterward, instead taking the time to find pleasure in every stretch mark and every curve as you massage rich tropical oils into your skin.

The rain is your companion, singing to you in the form of raindrops patting at your window. Candles burn on your windowsill, tiny lanterns reflecting shadows in the darkness of this place you call home. Crawling into your bed, you slip beneath your freshly washed sheets and scroll through your phone to find the right song. It doesn’t take long to find it. You hit “play” and close your eyes, ready to be swept away by the sweet notes emanating from your phone.

This is serenity. This is heaven. This is—

“What the actual fuck?” you shout, shaken by an unexpected knock at your door. The knocking is impatient, the agitation of the person on the other end undeniable. You jump from your bed, the sheet still clinging to your figure, and cautiously approach the door. You specifically didn’t schedule any sessions for tonight and your clients know better than to pop up unannounced.

“Whoever you are, go away! I have a gun!” You do. You have to. In your line of business being able to protect yourself is a necessity. It’d be silly not to have one and if ever there were an example why, this has to be it. The knocking stops. A brief moment of silence passes and then—

“You have a gun?” San asks, more confused than he is threatened. You don’t notice until now that you’ve been holding your breath this entire time but at the sound of his voice, you can miraculously breathe again. “San? What are you doing here?” you frown, cracking the door enough to get a good look at your ex.

The look is, in fact, good. Better than good, it’s wonderful. For all of this mysterious frustration he seems to be carrying, he still manages to be the most handsome thing you can imagine finding in your hallway near midnight.

San pushes past you, marching into your cozy studio apartment as if it were his own. “We need to talk. Now.” You roll your eyes, holding back laughter as you close the door behind him. “Someone’s sassy tonight” you tease, watching as he removes his wet boots and coat. He places them exactly where they’re meant to go.

You smile to yourself, finding it sweet that he still remembers how things go after nearly a year apart. “Don’t patronize me.” “I’m not patronizing you,” you say, approaching him with a hand outstretched to stroke his cheek, “Sannie—”

San takes a step back, the darkness in his eyes intensified by your attempt at affection. “And don’t call me that!” “Lower your voice! This is my home. You can respect me in it or get out.” Seeing you upset cools him down a bit. Enough to question the emotions that led him to drive over here to begin with.

He shouldn’t be here. He has no right to confront you. To care what you do or who you do it with. But it’s been eating him up inside for days, plaguing his every waking thought. Some part of him is still tethered to you and that’s why, against his better judgment, he’s here.

“Are you…” he stutters, the anger bubbling up once more at the thought of what he’s about to ask, “How long has Mingi been coming to you?” “Ah,” you gasp, fully realizing the awkwardness of the situation. Dodging eye contact, you head for the kitchen, busying yourself with the tea kettle. “You want some tea? We should have tea.”

Raking his fingers through delicate strands of pitch black hair, he approaches the kitchen and lets himself, for the most fleeting of moments, enjoy seeing you like this again. He’s missed you making him tea late at night. This would be everything he ever wanted under any other circumstance than this. “I don’t want tea. I want you to answer my question. How long?”

“A few weeks” you sigh, abandoning the kettle on the counter, “We ran into each other at the club one night and we started talking then, I mean, I don’t know, it just sorta happened.” In an instant, he’s on you, fingers squeezing your wrists as he presses you against the counter. “Things like this don’t sorta happen!” “Oh, come on, San. I have bills to pay. If I don’t take on clients, who’s gonna pay them? You?” “Haven’t I before?” Something about being reminded of before makes you as breathless as he is. “That was a long time ago.”

A long time ago but why does it feel like yesterday when he last had your body pressed against every wall in this apartment? So many hours were spent using your fingertips to traverse every exquisite muscle on his body. There are new ones now, you see them flex when he readjusts his grip on you. How good they must feel to touch. God bless the gym.

Shaking yourself free of your lust fueled daze, you break your wrists loose from him. “If that’s all you can go.” Why are you doing this? Why are you so stubborn? You don’t want him to go. Your body—your heart—begs him to stay even if it’s just to argue for the rest of the night.

“Fine, I’ll leave, but not until you tell me one more thing. Does he touch you? Like I did?” he asks, his expression cold as he tries to contain his jealousy. “Touch me like you did?” you giggle, reaching to stroke his cheek again. This time he doesn’t step away. He lets you touch him, your soft hand warming the cool raindrops on his cheek. A fire ignites in his eyes, not unlike the flames dancing atop the candle wicks. It’s distant, buried somewhere deep, but you see it and it makes you smile.

“I never let anyone touch me like you did” you whisper, “Mingi just wants someone to boss him around. I happen to be good at that. There’s nothing sexual. I could…” San tugs the sheet tightly around your body, gathering the two loose ends at your hip where his knuckles just barely graze the plush of your thigh. You let out a sound that’s almost a moan but not quite. He smirks, bringing his other hand to your side to massage the softness of your love handles. You're so cute when you’re flustered.

“I, uh, I…” you stutter, watching as his lips grow nearer to yours, “I could stop seeing him if you want.” “You’d do that for me?” San asks, teasing your lower lip with his. “I would do anything for you. You know that.” This is what he does to you and this is why you broke things off with him. San’s love brings you to your knees. You fold for him in a millisecond. You’re supposed to have every man in the palm of your hand yet you find yourself, delicate and fragile, nestled in his.

“Will you do something else for me?” “Like what?” “Kiss me.” And you do. No hesitation. No time for second guesses. Anything for him. A rush hits you, threatening to knock you off of your feet. San only holds you closer, his tongue tangling with yours, indulging in the taste of you. A craving much overdue to be satisfied.

“Do I still have to leave?” he pants, his voice a low rasp as he kisses his way down your chin. He buries his face in your neck, his kisses growing more passionate with each passing second. You smell good enough to eat and he almost does, nibbling at your neck sharply enough to send chills down your spine. You shake your head, wrapping a leg around his waist to grind against him. The simple act of kissing you has him hard enough that not even the few layers of fabric between you can suppress his need.

“Fuck, baby” he groans, his eyes nearly rolling back from the rhythm of your hips. You run your fingers through his hair, pulling him back up for another kiss. “Don’t leave me, Sannie. Please.” You’re prepared to beg more, as much as he wants you to, but your words turn incoherent at the sensation of his thumb stroking your clit. His other fingers dance dangerously close to your entrance, happily collecting the juices dripping from your core.

You look down to find that the sheet barely clings to your body, except for a small corner stuck between you and the counter. Everything has fallen away leaving you completely exposed. San’s favorite way to have you. “You’re so wet for me. My girl” he coos, easing two fingers deep into you, “Still my girl? Hmm?” You’re trembling, gripping his shirt as you ride his fingers in time with the flicking of his wrist.

Only he could do this. Make you feel this unbelievably good with just his fingers. "Always your girl. Always—ah” you moan into his mouth before he’s kissing his way down your neck again. The way your back is arched makes your breasts sit so deliciously that he has to taste them. San needs to feel the weight of them in his hands as he captures your perked nipples between his lips, circling them with his tongue.

His mouth is so full of you that every moan that leaves him vibrates through your chest making sure that you never once underestimate the intensity of his longing. Your thighs are soaked, your pussy dripping—pulsing—clenching around his fingers. Your little squeaks and moans are too pretty. Too addictive. San picks up speed, his only mission to make a complete mess of you or to make you make a complete mess of yourself. Either or both. Definitely both.

“Sannie. You’re gonna make me—fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you cry, feeling the pressure build within you. “Mmm,” he hums, releasing your nipple but not without taking one last lick of your overstimulated bud. You didn’t need to tell him. You never do. He knows when you're close, down to the second, which is why his timing is perfect when he pulls his fingers away leaving you hanging on the edge of oblivion.

You whine at the unexpected loss, your clit twitching and your walls greedy for something to hold onto. San moves out of reach, taking his time to shed his clothing. “Not on my fingers, baby,” he says, flashing that devilishly handsome smile of his, “On me.” He disappears around the corner and you trail behind him like a bright eyed puppy who wants more than anything to be the object of its owner's affection.

San sits on the edge of the bed, admiring the way your body jiggles as you skip over to him. He takes you by the hand, lowering you onto his lap, and the skin to skin contact sends a shot of adrenaline coursing through both of you. “I could just look at you all night. So beautiful” he muses, palms slapping your ass. His fingers dig in, keeping your hips raised enough that the tip of his cock almost presses at your slit.

You drape your arms over his shoulders, kissing him on the bridge of his nose, “You can look at me all you want.” One of San’s hands disappears beneath you, stroking his length as he lowers you down onto him. He stops at the tip, letting your arousal run down his shaft. “All I want because you belong to me?” You bite down on your bottom lip, eager to take him. “Yes,” you mewl and he feeds you another inch. A reward for being his good girl.

“No more Mingi?”

“No more. I swear.”

Another inch and your heart skips a beat. This is evil. “No more anyone else” he demands, taunting you with one more inch before taking it back, “I’ll take care of you, my sweet girl. Only me.” “Only you” you promise, unintentionally batting your eyelashes in the most innocent way. San grabs your hips, slamming you down onto him, “Good now cum for me.”

Being stretched by him, full of every thick rigid inch of his cock, is intoxicating enough. But the feeling of handing over control, of letting him have you completely, has you buzzing. San bounces you in his lap, kissing you everywhere his lips can access, whispering every praise he’s saved up for you over time.

Precious. Perfect. Never letting go. Love you. My everything. My world. Mine. Mine. Mine.

“Sannie—” you draw a breath in. A flash of heat hits you and you’re lost to pleasure. Your body explodes and implodes. Heavy and weightless all at once. You gush down his length, every inch of him drenched with your juices. San doesn’t stop, not even when your nails dig deep into the skin of his shoulder. He only goes faster and harder, wanting to break you, his precious girl, and put you back together then do it again.

But his body’s as sensitive as yours and he can’t hold back, spilling into you to the point of overflow. There’s so much warmth and fullness. It’s comforting, soothing you as you gradually float back down. Lying back on the bed, San cradles you in his arms, not wanting to be anywhere else than right here with you.

You rest your head on his chest, feeling his love for you in every breath he takes. How you ever pushed him away you can’t understand but you know, as he softly kisses your forehead, that you never will again.

#choi san x reader #choi san x you #choi san angst #choi san smut #ateez x chubby reader #ateez x female reader #ateez x you #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez angst #chubby reader #plus size reader

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asterias-record-shop · 1 year

Text

—𓆩[something worse]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Tobias Eaton (Four) x Fem! Dauntless Born! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - smut, fluff

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 2K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You and Four had been together since he chose Dauntless, especially because you were one of the Dauntless born pulled into training. You both had never put a label on your relationship because it never seemed right, but everyone knew that you both were a couple, except the newest tributes you both were training, no matter how obvious you both made it. It seems you both have to make it a little more obvious.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - so sorry I was writing this during a final and it might suck I’m sorry 😭 || cursing || unprotected sex || creampie || oral || fingering

You were used to wandering eyes, you really were, your partner was literally the hottest man in Dauntless. It didn’t really matter about wandering eyes though when they knew you both were together, label or not, but it seemed to be difficult to get through the mind of one of the new initiates.

You weren’t born Abnegation like either of them, you were a bitch and you made sure everyone knew it. You were a lovable bitch though, that’s why you were being fucked every night by the hottest man in all of the factions.

It passed through your mind to just show her, get Four to tell her something is going on in a certain area just to pull him there to fuck you. You passed it through Tori just to make sure, and she said no though, so you decided not to go through with it.

Maybe that’s why you were watching Four fix Tris’ position because she wouldn’t stick with it when Eric did it. It made your skin crawl, staring at the two of them. Maybe it did feel right that he was with someone from his home faction, didn’t he like selfless people? You were selfless in your own way, right? He knew that.

“Hey, you okay?” Uriah asks you, a smile quickly making its way to your face.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, thank you. I’m going to go see how some of the kids are doing, you mind telling Four?” You start collecting your stuff, inhaling deeply as Uriah follows you.

“He’s coming over here.”

You shoot up as Four stands in front of you, his brow raised. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to go do my time at the school,” you say, smiling slightly. “I just… haven’t seen King in a while.”

Four sighs. “Well… I can go with you in a minute, okay? King likes me, right?”

You laugh, slowly lifting your arms to wrap your arms around his neck before pausing. Public displays of affection were never really your thing, but you really wanted to.

Four saw you pause, leaning down to wrap his arms around your waist as you smiled and wrapped yours around his neck. “Everyone likes you, Four,” you teased, giggling. “But I love you.”

He smiles back, leaning down for a soft kiss as you tugged on his hair. “I love you too.”

You pulled his hands closer to your form, pulling his face into your neck as you looked over his shoulder just enough to wink at Tris before pulling away. “Let’s go see King.”

He nods, letting you lead him out of the training area and to the school. Dauntless didn’t teach like Erudite did, but they made sure that the children of the faction learned things needed to survive in the faction. King was a child of two Dauntless soldiers who had died exploring beyond the wall, and as a result, you both took him in sort of like your own.

Seeing you with a child really made Four want to give you a child, especially with how good you were with kids, but it never really seemed to be the right time.

That was until he saw you twirling another boy in your eyes, King cleaning one of Four’s guns while the older man oiled up one of the other ones. The younger boy was named Chris, someone whose parents got caught up in a mission and you both took him home just for a while.

“She looks good with a baby, right?” King asks, smiling. “Y/N was always good with kids. She was good with me,” he mumbles now, smiling. “I’m doing well in my training. She said that.”

“You are,” Four said with a smile. “You’re doing really well. Ranked third, kid, you’re doing good,” he leaned forward and ruffled his hair with a laugh. “Want you to get that first spot, though.”

King grins. “I will.”

Someone knocks making you fix Chris on your hip, quickly walking toward the door as Four stands. “Stay there,” he orders to King as you open the door, raising a brow when you see Tris. “Who is it?”

“Uhm… can I help you?”

She inhaled. “I just… I’m here to see Four.”

“Four, honey!” You yell out, the tall man coming behind you and settling a hand on your hip. “One of the trainees wants to speak with you.”

Four raised a brow. “Everything alright?”

Oh, the Abnegation was coming out.

“Y-Yeah, everything’s fine-”

“Perfect,” Four smiles, taking Chris from your arms and setting him on the ground. “King, come here!”

The older boy quickly walks over, standing just like Four. “Yeah?”

“Why don’t you take Chris down to eat? Tris will join you both,” Four says making King’s nose scrunch. “What?”

“Don’t forget I sleep here too.” King takes Chris’ hand, looking back just a bit. “Don’t forget I have a bed! That’s my bed!”

“Bye, King!” You laughed as Four grinned, closing the door as his other hand held your waist.

You couldn’t stop smiling, giggling as you stared up at him. “You did that, didn’t you?”

His smile grows, just a bit. “Yeah, I did. Uriah kind of… hinted it to me.”

You hummed. “Good, because I would've done something worse,” you said, slowly stepping back and pushing your hands into his tight black shirt. “I was this close.”

“Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?” He asked, smiling as the back of your knees bumps against the bed. His rough hands slip under your shirt, rubbing against your back as though he could feel the black ink you had gotten tattooed.

“Was gonna make her catch us fucking in the corridor,” you giggled as Four slipped off your shirt, humming as he leaned down. “Who said we always have to fuck on the bed? You like that idea?”

He nodded into your shoulder, lips pressing soft kisses to your skin as you started to lean back, his hands securely catching you before you could fall back fully. Carefully, he sets you down, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your neck down your chest. “I fucking love that idea,” he mumbled, his hand slowly rubbing circles against your thigh. “You want to go do that now?”

It was a tempting offer, but you shake your head. “No,” you say, tugging on the hem of his shirt. “You already got me here. Why move?”

He smiled even wider, leaning down as his hands moved to your hips to slowly tug at the tactile pants you wore. “I was thinking,” he whispers as you pull him down to press kisses to his neck. You could see the black peeking out from his shirt, pulling it off of him easily as he pulled away just to slip it off before pulling off your own. “You looked good with Chris on your hip.”

You paused, looking up at him. “You think so?”

He nodded, his hands tugging at your sports bra as your hands dragged down his back. He kneels over your body, pressing kisses down your neck to your chest. “I know so. You’re a natural with kids, angel, you’re fucking perfect.”

The slight husk in his voice made a shiver run up your back, your stomach twisting and heat flooding into your underwear as he lets his hot mouth suck at your lower stomach. “D-Does that mean something?”

He smiled, looking up at you. “Did I just get a Dauntless-born to stutter?”

You blushed madly, looking away. “Don’t let it get to your head, Four.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your pelvic bone before he slowly starts to pull your underwear off, his fingers dancing along your thighs as you squirmed, gasping as he pressed a firm kiss to your clit. It makes you squirm, his fingers replacing his lips as he kisses lower and lower.

“F-Fuck,” you whimper as the tip of his fingers slowly prod against your cunt, his mouth sucking and licking around his fingers as your hands push into his hair. “F-Four, you’re being too nice.”

He laughs, pulling away just for a minute as he slowly pushes a thick finger into you, watching as your hips buck into the air and your back arches. “Maybe it’s the Abnegation?”

You shook your head, reaching a hand down to push his fingers deeper into your pussy. It makes you whine, a gasp coming from your lips as he pulls them out just for a second to add another finger. “Abnegation is selfless, my darling, maybe it’s the Amity? J-Just, don’t stop.”

He laughs, popping a kiss to your cunt before pushing his fingers deeper into you, watching as you squirmed. Moans fall from your lips as he pressed firm circles against your clit, the sensitive bud making you whine loudly, hips bucking.

His fingers curl inside of you, pushing his tongue into you with his fingers as you tug on his hair and your other hand finds his cheek.

You felt your stomach twisting, hips bucking uncontrollably as you attempted to ride his fingers. You gasped as his fingers curled inside of you, attempting to find that one soft spot inside of you that made your eyes roll back. It didn’t take him long to find, especially because he’s memorized your body over the years and he groaned as you clenched around him.

“Come on honey, cum for me. Want to watch you cum.”

Your eyes rolled back, whimpering as he pushed his fingers knuckle deep into you to watch your pussy flutter. Your stomach twists, loud groaning falling from your lips as your stomach twists. Your hips buck, eyes rolling back as he sucked on your cunt, swallowing loudly as he pulled out his fingers.

He pulled away, sitting up as he pulled down his pants just enough to pull out his cock, hissing as you raised your legs to wrap around his waist. He grunts as he slowly pushes into you, eyes rolling back as he leaned down to hold himself up with his elbows, pulling you in for a kiss. “Fucking hell, I want to see you with my kids so bad,” he groaned, gasping as you pulled him down for a kiss. “Want to see you pregnant over and over again.”

You whined, his hips moving quickly as the bed pounded into the wall, your nails dragging down his back. His cock rammed into your pussy, strong thrusts making your eyes roll back as he pressed his lips to your neck. “You want that honey? Want to be fucked, round and full with my kids?”

You nodded, whining loudly. “Yes! Yes, I do!”

He grunts loudly, slamming into you just to feel your pussy clench along his entire shaft, a broken moan leaving his lips as you cum again around him. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, fuck! Four!” You yelled out as he reaches down to rub firm circles into your clit, rutting his hips just a few more times as he came inside you for the first time without protection.

It was an odd feeling, but filling as he groaned loudly, your cunt continued to clench around him to milk him of everything he had. It was warm, and if you could feel sticky-ness inside of you, it would be this. You whimper as he starts to pull out, trying to reach forward to pull him back in before he grabs your legs, pushing them back so your knees were on your shoulders.

“You don’t think we’re done yet, do you? Gotta make sure this sticks.”

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minnillea · 5 months

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HIGH RISE (Keegan P. Russ X Reader)

This one is so filthy idunno what to say. (3.8k words) All characters in this are legal adults. It’s 3am so-

CW: MDNI!, NSFW, Smut, dom Keegan, sub fem reader, typical canon violence, interrogation, edging, restraints, dubcon, pure filth, choking, masked man ajjsjsjsjsjd, primal play, degradation, praise if you squint, pet names, hair pulling, hate sex, creampie, knife play, and it’s enemies to lovers<3 You are literal enemies so good luck! :D

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･''･*:.｡. .

You were clearing the area with your team as planned. You were behind a desk, looking through your scope and offering support from afar by taking down targets in the opposing building. It was all a breeze until you saw him.

"Shit.." You cuss under your breath, feeling like the world is coming to a stop as you hold your breath. Every time you saw this man, everything went to hell. He was such a pain in the ass, and now he was looking directly at you through his scope, sending a chill down your spine.

In a fraction of a second, you pulled the trigger on him and immediately ducked down to take cover, only to hear a deafening buzz in your ears as a bullet hurtled over your head. You harshly fell down with your back against the desk before you quickly crawled to the opposite side. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest as you wondered if he was still there.

(Why the fuck is that fiend here? How did they get ahead of us?!) Your thoughts raced as you calmed down.

Suddenly, the impact of a bullet bursting through the desk and making debris scatter caught your attention. Your heart sank as it barely brushed over your shoulder. You had to move, and now.

You threw smoke and started running towards the hall on your left. As the smoke covered the corners of the room, you caught a glimpse of him on a zip line with a gun ready. He looked at you dead in the eye, making your stomach sink.

You sprinted faster and hid in one of the rooms as you heard the loud smashing of the glass. The presence of him and his team changed everything, you needed to regroup and fast.

You tried whispering to your teammates over the mic as you cautiously looked around the room, but no one was answering, frustrating you further. You took notice of the huge hole in the window. As you attempted to get a better look down, some faint rustling seized your attention.

You stayed low as you aimed at the door, waiting for him to come nearby. Then you heard some soft metallic clinking as you saw a grenade bounce into the room.

(Oh fuck, I don't wanna find out what that is.) You think as you quickly run over your options.

It all happens quickly. Your eyes widened as you ran sideways towards the shattered window of the office, keeping a guarded eye on the busted door. You looked down before letting yourself fall, grabbing onto a hanging cable someone left behind. You felt the line digging into your skin with great force through thick gloves as you went through a broken window two floors below.

You fell down on a pile of shattered glass, and a huge shard dug into your leg, making you hiss in pain.

All kinds of commotion and screams could be heard around the building as you limped towards an elevator to call it.

You only wanted to get as far away from him as fast as possible.

Your eyes flickered around tensely before you heard a faint noise and then realized that it was the elevator ding. The doors opened, and you made your way in as someone dove through to tackle you.

You gasped as you immediately aimed a pistol, shooting at the intruder, and to your dismay, it was him.

Keegan quickly knocked the gun out of your hand and then roughly wrapped his arm around your neck, strangling you. You struggled against him but couldn't free yourself from his deadly grip.

You groaned and pulled out a dagger to aim for his neck as a last resort.

Keegan moved his head out of the way in a swift motion, and your dagger slashed his cheek through his mask instead, drawing blood.

Then he forcefully slammed you down onto the elevator floor. He pinned your arms down with a hand and put his knee on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. He put his other hand around your throat and began to tighten his grip as his other leg was putting pressure on both of yours to stop you from kicking frantically.

You gasped in shock as you looked directly into his eyes, out of options as you could feel the warm blood pool around your injured leg.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, and his hand was squeezing harder and harder around your throat. You looked up at him desperately, but he just looked back with cold, blue eyes. You could feel your body failing under his weight.

You spotted a crimson stain forming below in the corner of your eye, and you knew your chances weren't good.

The world was beginning to fade around you as you tried to breathe, but he only looked down at you, his face showing no emotion.

The elevator suddenly dinged again...

Your eyes darted towards the door, and as your body went limp, a gunshot rang out.

You slowly came to, opening your eyes to find yourself tied to a chair. You noticed a piece of cloth and gauze wrapped tightly around your injured leg. Your hands were tied behind your back, and your legs were securely bound to the chair legs with some rope. You strained against the ropes and tried to move, but you were completely tied down. You make out Keegan's figure as he walks towards you and haphazardly pulls a chair in front of you.

He sits down without saying a word, his legs spread and his arms resting on his thighs uncaringly. His gaze is cold and unwavering.

You'd never seen him up close before; you only caught some glimpses of him here and there, and you hated him deeply. Even though you had given him a fair share of headaches before, you couldn't help but despise him for always making things so difficult.

He leaned forward as his husky voice drew your attention. “Well, aren’t you a little troublemaker, kid?” He teases with a slight smirk showing under his mask. “You know exactly what I want.” He said in a more serious tone with dangerous eyes.

You only stayed silent as you glowered at him.

“C’mon gorgeous, you can say a few words, or I can force them out of you.” He smirked devilishly as he tilted his head.

You scowl and turn your head away in defiance.

He grabs you by the chin and forces you to look at him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you” He spoke with an intimidating snarl before taking a friendlier tone. “So, this is how it is going to be?” He says mockingly. “Don't make me hurt you, sweetheart. I’ll make you talk one way or another.” He warns you as he locks eyes with you.

You look back at him with disdain, your lips tightly pursed, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

Keegan's expression remains unchanged as he speaks. “Let me tell you something, doll…I know how much we hate each other, but it would be very smart of you if you cooperated.”

You keep your head up to glare at him. “Oh, hate is a really strong word, isn’t it?” You say sarcastically, earning a chuckle from him. “I’m not telling you shit.” You hissed at him with a glare.

You frustrated Keegan deeply, but there was something about it that drew him to you.

Keegan grins and leans closer to you. “No, you're not only telling me everything." He brushes his gloved thumb softly across your lips. “You'll show me everything too.” He whispered lowly before he stood up and walked behind you, his steps echoing through the room as your mind wandered. You felt conflicted.

Shortly, he strolled back into your view and carelessly tossed a metal tray with some tools onto the table, his hand resting on the edge of the desk.

You attempt to glance at the tray's contents, but he obstructs the view with his broad back while running his fingers through it, creating a chilling metallic clacking sound.

You can't help but be mesmerized by the sight of his physique.

Keegan slowly turns around and glances directly at you with his icy eyes, catching you in the middle of your sinful thoughts. The black smudge around his eyes only makes his stare more compelling.

"Oh, you’ll bring toys into it now?” You say in a teasing tone.

He grinned as he sat back onto the chair and ran a sharp blade up your thigh, making you tense up. He was very close, one of his knees in between your legs and a hand on top of your other thigh as he toyed with you. Your heart flutters as the subtle scent of petrichor and musk coming from him reaches your nose.

“What? You are the one who wanted to play with me, or you’ve changed your mind?” He says in a sultry yet mocking tone.

You hear his words very clearly; his breath tickles your ear. You look up, his eyes boring into yours. Even though you do not want to, you feel attracted to him, just a little bit, but you can't stand it! You can't stand the way he makes you feel. You hate him so much it hurts, but a part of you wants him.

“I'd rather die than to help you." You spit out in a deadpan manner.

"Oh, sweetheart. There are far worse things than death." He says in a fake compassionate tone as he moves the blade up to your inner thigh, cutting through your clothes in the process. The feeling of the cold blade against your plush skin gives you chills.

Now that he's sitting in front of you, you have a clear view of the tray behind him.

You see a hammer, a screwdriver, cutters, nails, rope, metal wire, syringes, tweezers, pliers, a lighter, and a saw blade.

You feel a wave of anxiety wash over you as you take in a sharp breath.

Keegan whispers as he cups your chin and tilts it to the side. “It’s such a shame to ruin this pretty face of yours.” He brings the blade up and slowly slits across the skin of your cheek, drawing some blood as you feel the stinging sensation.

You suck in a breath, turning your head to look at him with pleading, fearful eyes.

As much as he hates it, it has an effect on him. He leans in closer to your face to speak in a soft tone as his eyes darken slightly. “What is it now? Not so brave anymore?” He raises a brow as he carefully studies you; the rosy blush on your cheeks doesn't go unnoticed by him while he continues to hold your chin “If you think I haven't noticed your little game with me...the way you look at me...you're in for a surprise, princess." He smirks as you feel a tinge of embarrassment mixed in with fear.

You two stare into each other’s eyes in complete silence. He is in such close proximity to you and your silly head wishes he’d press his lips on yours. It seems like you are having a full-blown conversation with just glances when a knock on the door, accompanied by someone talking to Keegan through his earpiece, makes him lean away from you in annoyance.

You exhale softly as the tension briefly dissipates, and you glance at him with curious eyes as he responds in a dull tone.

“Roger that. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” His piercing eyes immediately dart towards yours when he is done; it’s hard to tell what’s going on through his mind.

“Fuck this.” He hisses, frustrated, as he gets up and hastily cuts the ropes around your legs.

You always got a rise out of him and it was quite amusing but if he had a choice, he wouldn’t inflict any harm upon you.

Before you can register what’s happening, he pushes you out of the chair and slams you against the cold metal desk, making you gasp.

Your hands are still tied behind your back as he holds you down by your neck and kicks your legs apart.

His hand squeezes around your throat with the right amount of pressure to keep you in place.

“You are lucky I’m giving you a chance, and you better not waste it.” He seethes in between his teeth as he undresses your lower half abruptly before skillfully rolling the knife in between his fingers to make it turn the other way in a flash.

You feel the cold air hit your behind as your eyes widen when he slams the handle of the blade into you with a lewd squelch.

You let out a chocked-out moan as you flinched. He keeps you pinned in place as he wraps his long fingers over the cross guard of the knife and starts pumping it in and out of you.

You whined and tightened around the object as you squirmed.

“You like to play dirty, don't you?” He teases with a hoarse voice as he moves the hilt so it hits the perfect angle, observing the dripping slick sticking to it in the process with vicious eyes.

Your mind is trying to think clearly; you're struggling with yourself. Your legs twitch as you moan pathetically in result of his actions.

He keeps you like this for a while, and you rapidly feel that the coil that formed in your stomach is about to snap.

Your muscles tense up more, and he quickly yanks his hand away, making you whine in frustration.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” He says in a faux compassionate tone. “You don’t get to cum if you don’t talk.” He says rubbing circles on your inner thigh with a gloved thumb.

You turned your head to glare at him with scoff. He chuckled darkly, leaning forward and pressing his body against yours, matching your energy with his own spiteful stare.

He then proceeded to tantalize you by rubbing the round end of the hilt against your sensitive clit, making you quiver.

You tried to keep your head cool as he kept edging you for what felt like hours, denying orgasm after orgasm. Your eyes watered as your thoughts got lost in a feverish haze.

You have so many mixed feelings in your chest right now, and you know you shouldn't be feeling this way about him. But no matter how hard you try to resist against it, you can't stand the way he makes you feel. You hated that you wanted him, and you knew damn well that if you didn’t talk soon, stuff was going to get real ugly. You craved his touch badly.

You looked back at him with needy eyes and parted lips as your heart skipped a beat.

Your gaze quickly attracts his attention, the way you're so vulnerable to him, your flushed face, your parted lips as you try to catch more air in your lungs, how you try to rub against him desperate for contact, it drives him crazy.

Keegan is completely under a spell.

His gaze deepens as he looks down directly into your eyes. You don't know what to think. But the way he looks at you...

He chuckled lowly at the sight with a frown. “You want my cock, don’t you filthy little thing? You know what to do for it.” He said in a condescending manner, enjoying how he was toying with you.

“Fuck you.” You growled at him with completely flushed cheeks, trying to act tough.

He grins mischievously and speaks in a daring tone. “Say it like you mean it, princess. How about I fuck you instead?”

“Mmm f-fine” You groaned softly before your lips started to spill everything to him, and you let your head rest back on the desk in defeat.

“Attagirl~” He cooed as you could hear some metallic clinging coming from his belt behind you.

His hand left your neck and before you tried to look back, it tugged a handful of your hair as he rammed his aching cock into you without a warning.

You moaned loudly as you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs and he pulled your head back by your hair.

“Fuck…what a grip.” He grunted breathily as he held your waist with the other hand.

He could feel your gummy walls greedily clutching around his length as moans left your lips when he started a relentless pace.

You let yourself go and rolled your eyes back as he fucked you so good.

His hand left your waist and picked up the knife again.

He slowly traced the blade in between your breasts, slitting through the fabric and up your neck until he held it at eye level for you. You noticed it was covered on your dripping slick as he spoke.

“See how dirty that slutty cunt of yours got it? Clean it up.” He demanded dryly as he kept thrusting into you.

Your breathing was heavy as you lewdly ran your tongue flat across the hilt and up the metallic blade, getting a taste of yourself.

You moaned as you finished cleaning it before he placed the sharp end of the cold blade against your neck, barely grazing your skin.

“I think you are forgetting an important little detail, aren’t you?” He speaks with an edge to his voice as he keeps the strong grip on your hair.

“Ahh! I don’t r-really know where he is! T-they don’t tell me stuff like tha-“ You moan out as he harshly thrusts into you with deep disdain to shut you up.

“Wrong answer. Let's try that again, shall we?" He presses the sharp blade against your throat as he talks with venom laced words. “Where…plap…is…plap…he…plap…staying?” He speaks in between rough thrusts as you moan loudly.

You try to form words as best as you can to no avail as you shake under him. You feel like you’ll loose your mind as he fucks you deeply, stretching you out. He grins after he sees how fucked dumb you are, too lost in pleasure. You're completely under his control as he speaks to you again.

“What was that? Mind repeating it again? Or I can stop.” He speaks with cruelty as tears roll down your face.

“N-no, no, no! P-please don’t s-top, sir!” You whine out as he keeps bullying his cock into you, hitting all the good spots.

“Then speak up.” He says coldly as he lets go of your hair and you do your best to keep your head up to avoid the sharp end of the knife.

You start talking again as you feel his gloved hand sliding under your clothes, he feels the bulge he is causing on your abdomen and presses against it, making your breath hitch in result of the added pressure.

You did your best to finish the sentence in between moans and heavy panting as he roughly gropped your breasts.

Your words sound honest to him this time and you are clearly enjoying the way he is pounding into you.

“Good girl~ It wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?” He purrs beside your ear content as you become mush under him, feeling like your body is burning up.

He drops the knife with a clang to hold onto your hip as his other hand snakes up your back to meet your mouth.

He runs his thumb across your trembling lips before you stick out your tongue lewdly and he slowly rubs the rough pad of his digit downwards.

“Hmm! You f-feel s’good!” You moan out in ecstasy, not really aware of the stuff you were saying by now, as you felt like you were about to snap yet again due to the way he was ravaging you. It’s as if he was using this moment to get back at you for all the times you’d gotten on his nerves.

He chuckled with a soft, breathy groan. “Ah, I thought you hated me to death, dear? Maybe I should punish you for lying and just leave now that I got what I wanted.” He teased in a cold-hearted tone as he removed his finger from your mouth, with sticky strings of spit clinging onto it obscenely.

“F-fuck! No! p-please let me cum on your fat cock sir!” You wailed out in despair as your head fell against the desk, and you looked at him with big teary eyes.

He chuckled darkly as he saw the dumbed down state you were in. It’s as if all you cared about right now was being stuffed to the brim with cock.

“Relax, kid. I'm not that vile... or maybe I am?" He delivered the last part with malicious intent, tilting his head and locking eyes with you, mischief present in his cruel stare.

You whined out more as you shook your head in a tantrum.

He cooed you with a husky voice as he leaned down more, pressing his heated body against yours. “Easy there, I’ll give you what you want, darling.” He cupped your chin with his hand to stop you from moving frantically and softly kissed your cheek through the mask to calm you down as the fingers of his other hand rubbed comforting circles on your hip.

You seemed to be immediately soothed by his touch, and you rolled your eyes back before shutting them tightly as little moans left your lips. He firmly held your hips with both of his hands as he kept up the relentless pace, digging his fingers into your skin.

He cussed under his breath as you clenched harder around him, and in no time you finally came as you quivered erratically.

He let a low grunt out as he painted your insides white, and your arousal gushed all over him.

You mewled out as he gave you a couple more sloppy thrusts. He levered himself down with both hands at your sides on the desk to give you a quick kiss on top of your head before he pulled out.

You whined softly as you felt his hot cum overflow from your poor pussy. He stood behind you, his eyes fixed on your body as he took in the view.

“Now, that wasn’t that bad, wasn’t it?” He raised a brow at you playfully as he quickly fixed his belt in place before pulling your pants up.

You looked back at him with soft eyes as you panted heavily. “I’ll gladly take this over getting my fingernails pulled out slowly one by one, followed by my fingers.” You say playfully out of breath as you quivered slightly.

“I figured.” He replied stoically as he moved your hair out of your face with a brush of his fingertips before he checked up on a device he had pulled out with his other hand.

“They wanted to start exactly like that with you, but I wouldn’t let them." He said nonchalantly as his eyes flickered through the screen and he patted your head; his gentle touch made you melt. You slowly close your eyes with tranquility as you enjoy how he warmly runs his fingers through your hair.

“Wait what-“ You say snapping out of the daze before he speaks over you.

“Gotta go, till later, hot stuff.” He turned around, giving you a wink mid-turn as he swiftly spun the knife between his fingers to put it away before he sauntered out of the room, holding the metal tray in one of his hands.

You were left alone as the door closed with a faint click. You could only hear your breathing and your racing heart in the empty room.

You sighed softly as you laid down on your stomach, exhausted yet satisfied.

You started drifting to sleep while you went over the series of events that just happened, and you remembered that your leg got patched up with extra care. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all…

#keegan x reader #keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan russ x reader #cod smut #keegan russ smut #keegan call of duty #cod imagine #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #keegan russ x you #keegan smut #cod ghosts #call of duty smut #cod fanfic #cod fic

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k-hotchoisan · 9 months

Text

Soaking wet (San x fem!reader)

Synopsis: Soaking in the water festival, both literally and physically, you find your eyes trailing to a certain red haired man, completely drenched, his tank sticking to his skin like a tease. The festival isn’t the only thing that’s gonna be wet.

Genre: smut, fluff, San is performing, the both of you are wet, sexual tension (kinda!), reader is playful

Warnings: penetration, cumming, masturbation, heavy petting, slight hair tugging (san is the one getting his hair tugged🌶️), unprotected sex (PLEASE USE CONDOMS <3), cream pie, riding

Word count: 3.7K

A/n: no one drives me as insane as Choi san… my brain has rotted even more ever since waterbomb and I can’t stop fucking thinking about him

You navigate against the crowd, your hand linking with your friend’s, who is babbling about being excited that they could finally attend face-to-face events after a long while. You smile as you continue threading the crowd, a strange glimmer of excitement and anxiety flicking in you because you knew he would be there.

Water festivals are fun in their own way, once you let yourself get drenched and just enjoyed the music beating in your ears. You weren’t letting San dominate you of course. You had your own white shirt on with a bikini top and sweat shorts for easier manoeuvring, especially through the thick crowd. Whether or not you’ll get sprayed—is another matter entirely, and whether that will capture San’s attention as well. But the main point was, you weren’t gonna let San get a rouse out of you.

Bubble Pop blasts on the speakers and you silently cheer in delight at such a fun song. Definitely a summer classic. The water guns continuously drenches the crowd, including you but all you care about was feeling Hyuna’s music from head to toe. You didn’t know where San and his buddies were but not that it should matter—nothing was going on between you and the idol anyway. You comb your wet hair back, shaking it to let the excess water out. You are wet, but not drenched, yet. The fun was just getting started. Your friend whispers something in your ear—something about getting drinks for you. You smile at her and gently take the drink she offers you—a non-alcoholic one. It’s too early to get wasted. After having more talks and giggling with your friend, she suddenly squeals and you whip your head to the stage. Ah, another band is performing on stage. And it’s exactly who you think it is.

Choi San’s shirt clings onto his skin, pulling taut against chest, his nipples just peaking beneath the sheer fabric, teasing your eyes. You glance up and down at him, swallowing every single part of San with your eyes like a full course meal, forcing yourself to show as minimal reaction as possible. Seonghwa told you that San’s outfit was safe but dangerous—whatever the fuck that even meant. Dangerous is an understatement—San looks deadly. He had removed his hat and hung it on his ripped, baggy jeans, sweat and water just trickling down his temple to his jaw, down his throat, and sinking into the sheer ass fabric clinging onto dear life on his skin. Before you realise it, San catches your eye, and his lips curl into a smirk as he continues to pour and drench himself with another bottle of water. You swore to yourself that you’d never let him have the satisfaction that San just crawled into the crevices of your mind like a parasite. Fuck. Your eye contact meets his, determined not to lose this round. This only seems to rile him up a little more and he cuts the eye contact shortly after, going off to the other side of the stage. You exhale, combing your wet hair back again, feeling like you went through the most intense battle for some reason.

Just then Seonghwa walks over and meets your eyes, flashing a small smile. He, too, looks absolutely delectable—his white turtleneck drenched, pressing against his skin and a whole line of zipper just censoring his nipples at the perfect spot. What a fucking tease. He glances at San who catches his gaze before turning back to you, his hand on the water cannon. Before you know it, it sprays and absolutely drenches you. Your friend squeals and has her arm up with her drink in surprise. The white tank presses onto your skin and while you were wearing a bikini top, it somehow looked even sinful since now your chest was becoming more visible. You push your completely drenched hair back and your eyes search for Seonghwa on the stage. He’s obviously left the scene of the crime, whispering to San about something as San passes him. San’s gaze turns to you, and his expression unreadable as he lingers on you. You stare back and smile innocently. This felt bad for some reason, and you weren’t even the one who insinuated it.

The band finishes their set and you excuse yourself, threading yourself back out of the crowd. Your friend follows you out for a quick breather as well. “Toilet” she says. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

You nod as you watch her disappear into the distance. You walk the opposite direction, pulling out your phone from your mini shoulder bag. You reach to a more isolated area in the festival. The music was still beating pretty loudly in your ears and you comb your hair back again, getting the wet strands from your face to check your phone. A presence appears in front of you and you look up. San is staring down at you. Up close, he looks even more heavenly, his expression still unreadable.

He breaks into a small smile. “Damn. Seonghwa really got you huh.”

“What brings you here, San?” You ask, locking your phone and crossing your arms. You’re not sure if your heartbeat is accelerating from the music or because San is standing before you.

“Saw you in the crowd. Didn’t expect you to be here”, San says as he leans towards you.

“Of course. Came here to see Hwa”, you mention, pressing your bottom lip with your left index finger, tilting your head a little, your eyes feign playing dumb as your gaze flicker from San’s to somewhere else. You hear San take a breath, sounding irritated. You peek at your peripheral vision and oh boy, you definitely pushed a button or two in San. Such a gullible man.

“Right, that totally seems like that case.” You both know that’s a lie. The both of you were like playing some kind of cat and mouse game ever since the accident of when you ended up making out with San at a pub in your drunken stupor as a dare from one your friends. What you didn’t realise was that he was from a rising boy band at the time and you ended up befriending the four out of eight boys who were at the scene—including Seonghwa. But you were obviously attracted to San. Obviously. And you would never let him know. The only problem was that the kiss had you hooked. He was way too good at it. The way he pushed himself to you as your lips locked. The way he had combed your hair back during the kiss. The way he had you cornered.

Just like right now.

“Do you want to go find him?” San asks after a moment of silence. You can’t identify if he was being sarcastic or genuine but you decide to play along. “Why not? I’m giving him a piece of my mind for drenching me like this”, you reply, tugging the collar of the tank top, and San’s eyes fall right onto your chest. Oh dear. You forgot about that.

San smiles and puts his hand out for you to take, and you do. “Won’t you get swarmed by fans walking out in the open like this?” He shakes his head. “We got a staff shortcut.”

His grip was firm yet gentle, as if he didn’t want to let you go, not yet. Your heart continuously beats, and you worry that San could hear it at any point of time now.

The both of you reach a more quiet and isolated space at the festival, in front of a trailer. It probably is the band’s trailer. San unlocks the door and invites you in.

Of course, Seonghwa wasn’t there. You already knew. He obviously was not going to let you meet Seonghwa. You hear the sound of the door being closed and locked. Instead of panicking, you turn to the couch and sit, making yourself comfortable. “Where’s Hwa?” You provoke. San only inches closer. There’s a glint of guilt that flashes in his eyes for a moment.

“I lied. I’m sorry” He admits, as he brushes his hair back. “Do you really like him that much?” Fuck, he’s so cute when he’s soft like that.

“What if I say I do?”

An expression of hurt flashes across his face for a moment. Or was it jealousy?

He pouts, and it sends your heart into a spiral. Was he the same dude drenched and smirking on stage like 15 minutes ago?

“Really?” He confirms, stepping closer. You feel your breath hitch.

“No”, you plaster a smile, “I lied too”

This automatically puts a smile on San’s face. His hair was partially dried, so was his tank. It was still damp and the fabric still clings onto his chest. You swallow. Not to mention up close and personal.

“Hey y/n, I couldn’t stop thinking about you ever since the pub” and that leaves your face flushing. The only thing that flashes through your mind was how fucking good he feels in your mouth. “You tasted so unforgettable.”

“Can we go further than that?” He pursues, this time right in front of you. He tilts in, trying to close the distance between the both of you. But at that moment, the couch suddenly vibrates. The both of you jump at the sensation. You crawl to the position of where you phone (which was in your bag) was lying, and San stays put at where he’s at, his gaze following your movements.

You pull out your phone from your bag, and the phone lights up with your friend’s caller ID. You look up at San. “Excuse me for a moment”, you say and put the phone up to your ear as you slide to answer. Your friend asks you where are you, and that she’s out of the toilet.

“I’m…in the middle of something”, you reply, your eyes darting to San, who’s staring at you intently. “I’ll call you when I’m done. Enjoy the rest of the festival!” Your friend laughs and replies with an “okay!” before hanging up. You lower your phone from your ear and stuff it back into your bag. The moment you turn your head, San closes the distance between the both of you, hungry and needy. His lips pressing yours, gently pushing his tongue in to part your lips.

There it is—this feeling of fireworks just going off in your head when he kisses you like that. You almost go giddy as you feel your lower abdomen flutter in pleasure. Fuck this feels so good. You intertwine your fingers against his bright red locks of hair and tug a little in case you fall somewhere. This only elicits a soft moan out of San, and pulls back for a moment, his lips now red and swollen from kissing you hard. His eyes look slightly glazed and you can’t imagine how you are looking—you just know you want him to start fucking you right about now. He leans his head towards your neck and starts peppering your neck with kisses, sending jolts down your spine, and your pussy. Goosebumps scatter throughout your skin as you felt something loosen—your bikini top. The clothing piece falls limply as the knot gets undone by San, and with a swift motion, he tugs the bikini top by the string and down it goes, removed from beneath your shirt. You feel the tank top fabric stick to your nipples and the sensation makes you gasp a little. San only continues to trail his kisses down to your tits and when he gets there, he lifts the hem of your top up, letting it cling to the skin above your tits, and then sucks delicately on your right nipple. This only pools the area between your legs.

“Fuck.. San..” you barely manage out. San brings up his other hand and pinches your left nipple. Your hand goes to his hair and you tug again—this time from the pleasure jolting right between your legs. San moans again. He removes his lips and switches over to the left nipple. This pushes out a moan on your end. Oh my god, his tongue feels so good.

You continue to brush his hair back in pleasure as he licks and sucks in your nipple like some kind of candy. Suddenly he removes his hands and lips entirely, leaving you gasping at the lack of touch.

“Remove your sandals” San instructs, and you kick them off easily. He shifts his position so that you’re seated on his lap, straddling him, and that’s when you realise his hard on just pressing against your pussy. That just excites you even more.

San smoothes his palms up and down you—from your chest—not forgetting to play with your nipples—all the way to your thighs—dangerously close to your cunt. “So what do you want me to do, y/n?”, he asks, almost in a whisper, since his face is so close to yours.

Your eyes gaze to his damp shirt and you brush your hands against his nipples. San whimpers in surprise, and you feel his cock harden even more beneath you. His eyes open slightly as his head tilts back a little. “Do you like teasing me that much?”

You smile in reply. “I can’t help it if every part of you is fuckable.” And that kind of snaps something in San. He goes in for another needy kiss and this time your tits rub against his chest through the thin and wet fabric, causing you to moan in between kisses. You also start to grind your hips against his, desperate for some skin.

San pauses the make out session, leaving you half lidded and breathing heavily. It was starting to be difficult to cling onto any sense of sanity left. You feel him reaching for his pants and unbuckling, he’s acting like he’s doing it steadily but it’s evident that he’s rushing to let his cock spring out. Another hand slides to your pussy, and he pushes the sweat shorts aside, along with your panties—right to your clit.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already y/n” he breathes out. “I can’t wait to fuck you”. He bites his lip as he rubs your clit. His other hand grabs yours and has you rub him off—his cock at a significant length, but more on the girthy side. How the hell is that gonna fit in you.

He continues to rub your clit in slow, circular motions and you could barely focus on pumping San out. Each flick felt like a tickle that only thinned your sanity even more, the jolts of pleasure coming in non-stop. “…so good” you barely manage out. “Keep doing that San”.

The knot in your stomach tugs from the pleasure and you feel it building rapidly. You are definitely not going to survive this. It feels like fucking heaven. San continues to kiss your neck and suck on your skin, littering your shoulders with faint, red marks, adding into the pleasure even more. He continues to encourage you to keep up moaning, because it’s making him feel amazing too and whatever else. You were feeling too good to process his sweet nothings.

That was when you feel your climax reaching. Your legs trembling slightly as San’s fingers brushed against your nub once more, the feeling growing more intense by the second.

“Ah fuck-“you cry out. “S-san-“ All he does is continue to flick your clit. By now you let go of his cock because your focus was out of the window, only staring right into San’s gorgeous eyes, half lidded as he wraps his fingers around your neck. Oh fuck. You feel it building.

“San, I’m coming-“you whine, over and over as your body shakes in pleasure, your eyes rolling back as San now presses against your clit, sending even more shockwaves through your system. He lets your ride out your orgasm.

“You look so pretty when you come”, San whispers as he removes his hand from your name and combs back your hair. “We’re not done yet though.” Before you could reply, he pushes the fabric of your pants and panties further to the side, taking your hand and having you hold the pants to the side, your pussy exposed even more. It doesn’t take you long to realise what he’s trying to do and you start taking action. Lifting your hips up, your free hand holds San’s cock as you line up to your entrance, and then you push down, taking him in instantly.

FUCK. The pleasure jolts in you so much and you wonder if you can keep your eyes open as he fucks you. The overstimulation felt so amazing. His cock is buried deep inside you and it feels so fucking full. San gasps as well, his eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, y/n, you feel so good, squeezing me out like this”, he whimpers. You crash your lips into his, and he hungrily devours you. His moans mixed with yours as you start moving slowly, starting at a slow pace.

Moans start to fill the trailer, so do the sounds of wet skin slapping. Every time you ride and lift your pussy off his cock, you cry out in pleasure, only for San to slam you down, balls deep in you again. You lean in to his shoulder and kiss his neck in an effort to hold back your moans. His hands reach for your ass and he slaps it, the sound bouncing off the walls, and you jumping before sinking right back into his dick.

“You take me so well”, he whispers in your ear. “I can’t wait to start fucking you everywhere. Then you’ll be only thinking of me”. His possessiveness only turning you on a little more.

Just then, the door suddenly knocks. The both of you freeze for a moment. The tapping continues. “San, are you there? Manager needs us in fifteen.”

It was Seonghwa. San suddenly lifts you off his lap and cock before turning you over to face the door. Your heartbeat quickens. What the hell is he trying to do? Before you could protest, he slips his cock right back into you, and you go limp, falling back to his chest and head supported by his shoulders. He fucks you with your legs open like that. “There he is, your little crush. If he has the key and unlocks the door, he’s gonna see you like this. What would Hwa think?” San presses. He’d think you were a whore, being fucked out, balls deep by Choi San.

“He’s not my crush. You are. I love how fuck me like this”, you cry out softly, still bouncing off his cock. You don’t know what washed over you to confess that but it already slipped out. San pauses for a second, and you feel him smile, you also feel his cock grow in your pussy. “Yeah sure! I’ll be there!” San strains. The footsteps shuffle away, and your heartbeat starts to slow down.

“Really?” San asks, both of his hands flicking your nipples. Fuck, you can’t answer, not like this. “Yes. San, please, don’t stop” you confirm. San bites your ear gently as he pounds into you. God, your face must be looking so fucked and glazed over.

You feel his movements getting erratic and sloppier. “I’m close”, he exhales. His hands travel down to your thighs as he strokes them gently.

“Please”, you whine. “You can release in me”. And that snaps whatever sanity San had left as he fucks right into you and paints your insides with his cum. He keeps moaning in your ears about how good your pussy feels, how he’s going insane. He slowly pulls out and shudders at the overstimulation from emptying out in you. Cum trickles down your pussy and that sight almost made him hard again. Almost.

San puts you aside as he reaches out for a box of tissues to clean yourself up with. He also reaches out to clean your pussy up when he’s done wiping down his dick.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” San asks, stroking your head. You shake your head as you hand him the used tissues. He lifts up your shirt, which makes you squeal in surprise.

“Hold your shirt up. I’m tying your top back on,” he assures. He fits bikini over your chest and knots the string to tighten it. The butterflies are back in your stomach as you feel his touch. He walks over to the bin and throws the tissues and washes his hands over at the sink. You follow him over and wrap your arms around his waist, which takes him by surprise. “I’m still pretty soaked you know” he says. You laugh, snuggling against his back even more.

“Will I see you again?” you ask, reluctant to let go. You know it would be difficult because he was an idol, and you were just someone else. He lifts your arms off him, turns around, and fits your arms around his waist again, this time facing you. He just looks so fucking good from every angle. He could put the Greek Gods to shame.

San smiles at you and presses a soft kiss onto your forehead, you completely melt under his touch. “I might be a little busy because of scheduling but during my pockets of free time, I’ll find you.” He takes your hand towards the trailer door. He unlocks the door and pushes it ajar, checking if the coast is clear. He pushes the door wider, and you follow him. The both of you walk hand in hand for awhile until he lets go.

“I’ll be off first. See you around y/n. That was an amazing time with you”, he smiles, and you see a tint of pink colouring across his tanned skin. You take his hand and kiss his palm. “See you”, you reply. He pulls you into a hug and your heart flutters again. Another kiss planted on your forehead and he waves goodbye before disappearing.

Oh dear. Looks like you’re head over heels for sure.

#choi san smut #ateez #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #choi san #ateez san #ateez imagines

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redr0sewrites · 27 days

Note

(Tumblr kicked me out in the middle of me writing this ask I'm so sorry if you receive this twice 😭)

I JUST READ YOUR STRIKER HEADCANONS AND IM DROOLING RN

I think he likes it when you make him fight for it sometimes. He likes the power struggle. Wrestle with him in bed, make him hold you down, make him tie your wrists together to keep you from flipping him over. If he wants to dom you, make him earn it.

Also? Heavy on the gunplay. It's never loaded of course and you have a safeword should you ever need it, but seeing that little twinge of fear in your eyes when you realize you can't keep fighting him, he won, you're powerless, AND he has a gun pressed against your temple? Delicious. Makes him feel strong.

Could I maybe request something like this?

yes oh my god this is literally what i was thinking when i made those hcs NONNIE U READ MY MIND ♥️

🥀Cw: smut, a bit of fluff, established relationship/consent, reader is gn but there is one use of m'am/sir, powerplay, scratching, biting, gun kink, overall filth

🥀minors dni

you collapse against the bed as striker pins you down, beating you easily in yet another wrestling match. the mattress dips from your combined weight, and striker used the opportunity to lean down, whispering against your neck. the combination of thefeeling of his breath ticking your sensitive skin and his raspy voice makes you shjver. "aww, how sweet," striker coos, mockingly tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "did ya really think y'could beat me, poppet?" you squirm beneath him, his hips planted firmly above you with his thighs caging you in place. you buck your hips upwards, eliciting a hiss from striker as you grind against his prominent buldge. his tail rattles slightly, curling up around your thigh as, with one hand, he grabs you wrists and pins them down above your head.

"fucking brat," striker spat, using his free hand to grab your face, forcing you to look at him. his cowboy hat tipped forward, falling of his head as he leaned down to kiss you messily. you giggle when the hat falls to the side, but the giggle soon melts into a moan as striker grinds down against you. "fuck, doll, look what you do t'me.." striker murmurs against your lips, and you let him slip his tongue into the cavern of your mouth as the hand on your face travels down to your neck.

suddenly, with all your might, you push up against him, attempting to flip him over onto his back. striker lets out a throaty chuckle, tsking when you whine out his name. "y'wanna be on top, sugar? too damn bad," his voice transcends into a growl as he makes quick work of your pants and undergarments. he pulls apart from you to quickly undress himself, and while you remove your top, you also use the time to admire his toned body. "like what ya see?" striker smirks, crawling on top of you again, his hands finding purchase on your supple thighs. he gives your ass an appreciative squeeze before gently teasing your entrance with a finger. "y'ready?" he asks, his voice adopting a softer, serious tone. "if ya want to stop, we always can." you smile, grabbing his hand and pulling it closer to your needy hole. "i know, striker. and i know what i want- i want you, and i want you to touch me." the corner of his mouth twitches, fighting off a crazed grin. "y'really are such a doll, y'know that?" striker whispers huskily, plunging a finger into you. you gasp at the pleasurable intrusion, soon accompanied by a second finger as he stretches you out.

"o-oh! ffuck-" you gasp, keening as he curls his fingers with mind numbing accuracy. striker brushes your hair out of your eyes, watching your face twist in pleasure as you pant. he can feel you practically sucking in his fingers, and a sudden idea strikes him. "open up," striker commands, grabbing his gun from the bedside table. your hole clenches around his fingers and you throb at the sight of the weapon. without hesitation you open your mouth, drool pooling on the edge of your lips as he shoves the gun into your mouth. you gasp, shocked by the cold sensation of the metal against your tongue. you can feel your orgasm approaching fast, the coil in your abdomen squeezing tighter by the second.

suddenly, striker pulls his hand away, relishing in the muffled, needy whimper that slips past your lips. "aw, d'worry poppet," he chuckles, pumping his cock a few times before aligning himself with your hole. "i'd never leave ya unsatisfied". striker thrusted in slowly, watching as your aching hole swallows his cock in a vice-like grip. "o-oh!" you gasp airily, thighs clamping around his waist as you claw down his back. striker begins to move, slowly but surely thrusting into you as you adjust to his size. it takes everything in him not to loose all restraint and fuck you senseless, especially with the way your moaning his name like a prayer. your hole was tightening around him and your wanton moans grew louder and louder, signifying that you were close.

you clench around him impossibly tight, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable. "striker- oh fuucnghh-" you gasp, your words muffled by the gun stil in your mouth as the coil in your abdomen snaps. your mind went perfectly blank as you ride out your high, striker cursing up a storm as his orgasm follows immediately after you. he pulls out, spilling his seed onto your stomach and chest.

striker gently pulls the gun from your mouth as you come down from your euphoric high, wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes and gently massaging your sore jaw.

"y'okay, bubs?" striker asked, gently cupping your face as he collapses beside you. "mhm," you murmur, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his nose. "just a lil' tired..." striker chuckles at your reply, gently kissing your forehead. suddenly, an idea struck you, and you crawl on top of him. striker watches you with amusement as you straddle him, his teeth glinting in the moonlight streaming in from outside your window.

"not too tired for round two, i see," striker snarks, and you shush him. "if you want to cum, then i suggest you stop talking," you reply, and striker swallows hard. "yes m'am/sir," he whispers, wetting his lips as you grind down against him. "i promise i'll behave," he murmurs, eyes glistening with lust as his hands travel to grip your thighs. "we'll see about that," you reply, already knowing your in for a long night.

I HAD TO HYPE MYSELF UP FOR THIS ONE 😭 this will probably have a pt2 w sub striker cuz i cant resist the opportunity- sorry i haven't posted in like a week ive been fighting demons (anxiety and burnout 😭) but i really wanted to finish this! i have a few more wips that will be posted soon, and im considering adding marvel/the mcu to the list of fandoms i write for cuz ive been falling back into my marvel phase lmao. ANYWAYSSSS I HOPE U ENJOYED!!!!

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tightjeansjavi · 7 months

Text

about what my hands and my body done

A/N: this is all @amanitacowboy @chaotic-mystery fault 😩 once again, angst with sprinkled in smut because I am a menace that cannot be stopped!

~word count: 472~ (see! I can write drabble..sometimes)

Summary: Joel’s hands. That’s it. That’s the summary.

Pairing | post! outbreak Joel Miller x f! reader

Warnings: smut, fingering, hand kink??, angst, blood, tears, you’re like literally in love with Joel’s hands, +18 minors dni!

main masterlist masterlist

Joel Miller’s hands must have surely been sculpted by the gods themselves. Why else would they look so perfect? He’d disagree, naturally. He viewed them to be ugly, unnatractive, useless in the cases where they were so damaged, he’d have to grit his teeth together to mask the pain. To you? They were beautiful. Perfectly crafted to encase around your hand like a shield. Or purchased around your throat, like a pretty necklace. You especially loved it when he used those hands of his to pry your thighs apart, tsking under his breath when they would subconsciously snap shut when the sensation of his fingers knuckle deep inside of you became too much for you to handle. A mix between pain and pleasure as your eyes would screw shut, head thrown back as you cried out his name.

“Keep ‘em open f’me. Can’t make you cum if you ain’t obeyin’ and bein’ a good girl f’me.” He rasped as his thumb began to paint practiced strokes across your neglected clit. He always knew how to play your strings just right.

Hands that could send you reeling into a blissful state that only he was capable of bringing you too. Hands that held you protectively with shameless care. Grasping your hips, your arm, with blunt fingernails lightly pressing into your skin. Splayed across your tummy as he holds you close at night. Fingertips twitching, quivering against your flesh; another nightmare rolls through like clockwork. Fingertips to be held, admired, kissed, licked, worshiped.

Bruised knuckles over the years, torn skin, crusted blood as you leave featherlight whispers of kisses on his wounds. Hands that have killed for you, cared for you, protected you.

Wrinkles, veins, scarred tissue; all beautiful. All him; all yours.

Hands that grasped a gun firmly, and your face delicately. Rough pads of thumbs brush away freshly fallen tears.

“Never g’nna leave you. Ain’t no one on this god forsaken earth can take me from you, angel.” He fiercely reassured you. Hands streaked in blood, not of his own, but of another. Fingernails encrusted with grime and flesh tissue. Not his. Not his.

“I’ll crawl home to you everytime. Every goddamn time. I’ll give every motherfucker hell if they try’n take me from you.”

Hushed tone, soft touches, acidic copper, salt. Tears mixing with your own as he kisses you soft, sweet, tender. Hands grasping yours with a trembled grasp.

Tongues tangled, teeth clash, rough fingertips gliding under the confines of your shirt; his. Grasping at skin, biting at flesh, hold me. Hold me. Hold me. You beg, unneeded as he’s already there, holding you as close as he can, it’s not enough. It’s never enough as you cling to him as if your life depends on it.

I’m here. I’m right here.

Hands that hold you steady, keeping you safe and warm, even as they tremble fiercely.

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

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obsessedvibee · 8 months

Text

Glowing Embers

Pairing: Benny!austin & Kathy/reader in the bikeriders universe

Disclaimer: I know nothing about biker gangs. I read a wikepidia page about them to give me a bit of knowledge but that's literally it. I just wanted to write a story/smut involving Austin's character Benny. This fiction has nothing to do with the actual movie story line. I got this entire story idea from the Bikeriders trailer. But if you pay attention you'll notice some lines & short scenes I tied into here from it. (Obviously smut is not in the trailer, nor do I know if any will be in the movie involving him....but I sure wont complain if there is..!!)

Summary: Benny and Kathy find themselves caught off guard when members from a different biker gang show up at their home. And Benny keeping Kathy in the dark about what's truly going on leads her to accusing him of cheating. Smut ensues.

Word count: 4.2k

Warnings: 18+ smut, overstimulation, squirting, cream pie, unprotected sex, a little bit of orgasm denial, light roughness, smoking, drinking, guns...I think that's all of it?

The breeze of the humid night air filtered in through the open window next to me, making my skin clammy. The leaves rustled in the trees nearby, a few crickets singing in the distance. It’d be a relaxing night if only Benny were here.

The sun set hours ago. Benny only told me he had some business to take care of before he left in a rush, the roar of his harley fading off into the countryside. I lost interest in the television three sit-com episodes ago. Now a book sat in my lap as I reread the same page over and over again, trying to will my mind to let go of the worry that grew by the hour.

My ears perked when I heard a rumble in the distance.

Benny.

Relief flooded through me.

He’s safe.

I left the book on the couch, quickly padding over to the front door, peeking through the side window watching for the single headlight coming down the driveway; but my excitement was short lived. Through the trees there were two bikes already waiting at the end for him. I held my breath as I watched Benny stop his bike. The other two men proceeded to get off their bikes and began approaching him.

Something wasn’t right.

In a panic I tore open the front door, “hey!” I hollered, running down the steps of the front porch. The gravel tore at the soles of my feet with every step. I had absolutely no plan as to what I was going to do to stop them, but distracting them was the first thing that came to mind.

One of the men glanced over, noticing me, grabbing the attention of his friend. They paused their approach on Benny. “The young pup’s ol’ lady was waiting up for him,” the larger man spoke. “Ain’t that sweet of her?”

My skin crawled as his eyes followed me.

“She has nothing to do with this,” the warning was clear in Benny’s voice as the shorter man continued his prowl towards me. “Kathy, get back inside.”

“And that's where you're wrong,” the larger man corrected. “You got hitched, so she’s a part of you now, boy.” He took the cigarette that was hanging from between his lips, and tossed it into the gavel. “You play around on our territory, we play around with yours.”

“That was never yours to begin with!” Benny snarled.

My arm was suddenly grabbed from behind, the shorter man's fingers digging into my flesh, making a pained sound escape my throat.

Benny lunged forward, “get the fuck off of her!”

In the blink of an eye, there was a slight nod from the bigger guy and immediately I was released. I quickly put space between him and myself. Benny shot past me going right for the other guy, a sickening crack was heard as his fist came in contact with his jaw. He stumbled back falling to the ground as Benny continued to swing time and time again.

“Benny,” I cautioned, stepping back, trying to snap him out of his rage.

The screeching of metal on metal caught both of our attentions. The other man had a knife lodged into the side of the gas tank on Benny’s bike. With a turn of his wrist gasoline began to trickle out onto the ground below.

Benny shoved the beaten man aside, quickly putting his body between them and I. “Get inside, Kathy.”

I stood frozen in shock.

“Now!” he growled.

I flinched, snapping out of my frozen state, making my way back to the house. I climbed the steps, and as I reached for the knob of the front door a gunshot split through the night air. My heart leapt into my throat as I spun around, my blood running cold.

Benny was holding a pistol to the sky, a cloud of smoke still coming out of the barrel.

I put my hand to my chest, relieved he was the one making the shot. The two men got a pep in their step, hurriedly getting on their bikes and roaring off into the night.

He reached behind him shoving his pistol back into the waistband of his jeans before making his way to his bike to survey the damage. Shaking his head to himself, he pushed his bike up the drive, putting down the kickstand to let it rest for the night beside the house.

He walked back to meet me, the porch light finally illuminating his face. He had a small nick on his forehead just above his eyebrow, a trail of blood slowly running down his face. His hands reached out to cradle my arm tilting it this way and that. Seeing I was injury free, he let go to cradle my face between his strong hands. He gently brushed the few stray hairs that were caught on my lips. His eyes were clouded with what almost felt like sadness. Disappointment maybe?

“Benny, I’m fine.”

The brooding look on his face only darkened further, “those mother fuckers are lucky they didn’t leave a mark on you, or I’d have ‘em surrounded right now.” He let go of my face, turning away clenching his fists, as the rage inside of him grew. “They come here to my house,” he walked over to the side of his truck, “and come terrorize my wife!?”

I flinched as his fist collided with the side mirror, bits of glass falling into the gravel. That alone hardly made a dent in calming his frustrations. He continued pummeling the driver's side window.

My patience thinned with every hit.

When he finally got the window to crack, I decided I had seen enough.

“Benny, that’s enough.” I had seen a copious amount of violence for one night.

His wild eyes met mine, anger still boiling under the surface.

I sat on the stoop, holding my hand out to him, “c’mere.”

He closed his eyes with his head tilted back, taking a few breaths before allowing himself to come over. He slowly placed himself next to me, his fingers fumbling in his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter. With a few swipes of his thumb a flame appeared casting an orange glow onto his face as he cupped his hand around it to light the stick between his lips.

I stayed quiet watching him as he took each drag, the end glowing as he inhaled the smoke into his lungs before exhaling. With each breath I could visibly see him relaxing, as if he were exhaling more than just smoke. Like every breath released a stressor into the air.

I leaned back against the railing, my eyes looking out down the driveway, where the one single street light shined, casting everything into a yellow haze. The events kept replaying in my head, their words circling over and over again. What could he have possibly done to instigate them coming to our property and adding me to the equation?

He tossed the small remaining end of his cigarette onto the ground, crushing it with the toe of his boot. “I’m sorry.”

I looked over at him, watching his eyes staring off into the distance only glancing down as I placed my hand over his. I waited patiently for him to continue, but he remained silent. I sighed trying to keep my own frustration in check as he chose to keep me in the dark. I stood up, pulling him with me up the stairs, through the living room and into the bathroom. I closed the toilet lid motioning for him to sit as I pulled a few things out of the closet to patch him up. I put myself to work cleaning his forehead and hands as best as I could letting the silence linger. I knew the destructive rage was sedated in him for now, but I could still feel something was off with him. His boot squeaked against the tiled floor as his knee bounced, and his eyes kept flitting around the room, looking everywhere but at me.

“Benny, what happened?”

He bit his bottom lip shaking his head, getting up to slip past me.

I sighed in frustration at his silence. I put away the items scattered on the counter, and followed his footsteps into the bedroom. He was in the middle of shucking his jacket off, pulling his white t-shirt over his head. Quietly, I padded over to him pressing my front to his back. He was hot to the touch, the tension still rolling off of him. I reached for the handle of his gun, pulling it from his jeans.

He turned to me, his eyes flicking from the gun in my hands to my face and back again. I knew he trusted me, but I’ve never touched any of his weapons before. I never had a reason to. I rotated the gun in my hands, the light from above glinting off the metal barrel.

“Is this what this club is turning to now?” I looked up at him, my brows furrowed.

He ran a hand over his face taking a deep breath, “no.”

I dropped my hands to my sides, “we’re not going to get anywhere if you’re going to lie.” I reached over, placing the gun gently on the dresser.

“Wha-? I’m not lying, Kathy. This thing keeps getting bigger by the day! It’s bigger than me or Johnny ever expected it to become. Some of these guys just think they own the whole goddamn world, and they need to be put back in their place!”

“So it’s your job to start waving a gun around?”

He chucked his boot down to the floor with more force than necessary, “it got the job done didn’t it?” he stalked over to his dresser opening a drawer. “I needed to protect my territory.” He reached in pulling out some clean underwear. He shoved it shut, looking back to me before he walked back into the bathroom. “I needed it to protect you.”

I rolled my eyes following him to the doorframe, “oh don’t go making this my fault!”

He reached into the shower turning the water on before popping the button open on his jeans pushing them down and stepping out of them, “I know you wanna say it.” His blue eyes burned into me across the small room.

I crossed my arms.

“Since you have the answer to everything else, you have to have the answer to this too, right?” he sneered.

“I want you to quit riding!”

“Don’t ask that,” he snapped, throwing his finger towards me before discarding the last of his clothing and stepping into the shower.

I felt like I’d just been scolded, and quite frankly I didn’t appreciate it. I slammed the door announcing my departure before making my way to the kitchen and pouring myself a small glass of whiskey. I walked the house making sure each and every door had been locked and turned the tv off in the living room. I downed the rest of the glass, welcoming the heated burn down my throat. Leaving it in the sink for the following morning, I made my way back to the bedroom.

He was already out of the shower, his hair wet, standing in just his briefs. “I failed you tonight,” he said quietly, tossing his dirty clothes into the hamper.

I knew my mind jumped too far and too fast, but I couldn’t control it. Confusion suddenly filled my brain when the words from earlier resurfaced in my head. You play around on our territory, we play around with yours. They couldn’t possibly be talking about catching Benny with one of their women, could they? It almost started to make too much sense.

He turned to face me, and upon seeing the look on my face he quickly defended himself, “not like that! Fucking hell woman why the hell would you even think that of me?”

“Well you’re not exactly giving me a whole lot to work with, now are you?” It was low of me to go there. Deep down I knew he wouldn’t, but the added shock and stress from earlier and quietness from him shortened my fuse.

He stepped forward towering over me, “you are the only girl for me.”

“I know- I know, I’m sorry, I- I- don’t know-,” My heart thudded beneath my chest as I stuttered at the close proximity, his damp skin and aftershave was starting to get to me.

“I promise baby, it has nothing to do with another woman.” He held my face with both hands, tilting me to meet his gaze, “you own my cock.”

Heat flushed through my body.

“You need me to remind you?”

It took all I had to resist him, but I was determined to at least get one answer out of him.

“How did you fail me?”

He sighed, getting agitated as I ignored his advances, “I need to protect you, and I failed to do that tonight.” He ran a hand through his hair. “They got their hands on you, and I swear to god, I could have shot that fucker that touched you.”

His masculine ego was bruised, being completely blindsided by being approached at our own home. Watching another man rough house me.

He needed something to make him feel back in control again. He still had all that tension coiled up in him. I finally took the bait.

“There's no other woman?”

A sly smile crept across his mouth and his eyes darkened, sparkling from the bedside lamp. “Get over here, you little brat.” He snaked his fingers in the hair at the back of my head giving it a tug forcing me to look up at him. “One more smart comment out of you and I’ll give you something to fill your mouth with.”

With that, he slotted his mouth over my own, his tongue entering my mouth quickly dominating. He pulled away with a little smirk bringing his thumb up to my lips pressing it inside. I swirled my tongue around his digit giving it a gentle suck before popping off of him. A growl resounded in his chest as he watched me. His hands reached down to the hem of my shirt and began tugging it up, exposing my bare abdomen to him. I helped him pull my shirt over my head, and my shorts hit the floor soon after.

He quickly pushed me back onto the bed and pulled my hips to the edge. He pulled my panties aside and dove in head first. I closed my eyes, letting him go to town. His mouth continued to work at my soft flesh, his tongue lapping hungrily.

Far too soon, he pulled away, and I whimpered at the loss. He yanked my panties off and discarded them to the floor. I anticipated the return of his warm mouth on me, but it never came. I propped myself up on my elbows looking down, only to see him with a little smirk, knowing and waiting. His arm flexed as he palmed himself over his jeans.

“Benny,” I whined, as I attempted to use my legs to pull him closer.

He hummed deviously, “I don’t think you deserve to cum just yet.”

Oh. Butterflies erupted in my stomach. It was one of those kinda nights.

“Scoot back,” he instructed.

As I shuffled back, he stripped down, his cock hanging hard and heavy between his thighs. He made his way to me, placing my head between his thighs. “Open up baby girl.”

I opened my mouth as he lowered his hips down slipping his cock into my waiting mouth. His salty precum flooded my tongue as I swiped at the head. I tongued at every inch wanting to work him up the way he did me. His own mouth found its way back to my area focusing on my clit, flicking over and over quickly bringing me back to the brink. I lifted my hips searching for something more, trying to tell him I wanted something more, something faster, but he backed off again instead.

I groaned in frustration around his shaft, the vibration earning a blurt of precum from him.

He started to piston his hips, his cock nudging the back of my throat. I gagged a bit, pulling a grunt from him.

I reached down, unable to resist the urge and began rubbing myself, craving a good release.

His hips faltered, never having seen me touch myself in front of him before. “Fuck.” I felt his breath on my hand. “Look at you, so desperate for me.”

He quickly became jealous of my own hand and pushed mine aside and his fingers went to work. He rubbed vigorously, and it was only a moment later I finally reached my peak.

Feeling a bit of compassion towards me he pulled himself out of my mouth letting me voice my pleasure. I cried out as I rode the peak, my body convulsing with the waves of rapture.

I eventually came back down to earth when I felt his hands at my hips flipping me over and lifting my ass up. “Time to fuck some sense into you baby,” he ran his hands up my waist and toyed with my bra strap, snapping it against my skin. “I hope you’re ready for a long night.”

I could only moan in response as he pushed into me. My wetness eased his entry and the tightness from my still-fizzling orgasm held his cock snuggly.

He cursed under his breath and stilled for his own sake. “You were made for me,” he murmured, before pulling his hips back and pushing himself back in.

He made work with his hands pinching the clasp of my bra, pulling the straps down my arms. It fell to the bed, but I too blissed out to even care to pull my arms out.

Draping his body over mine he reached around and cupped my breasts as they shook with every thrust of his hips.

I arched my back pushing into his hips to meet each of his thrusts, encouraging him to go harder. He quickly took the cue, his pace increasing. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room, and his breaths became heavier. He mouthed at the shell of my ear, “you like it a little rough, don’t you?”

I already felt another coil tightening in my stomach. Goosebumps covered every inch of me as I felt his teeth gently graze my shoulder. One of his hands reached under me and started toying with my clit, making me gasp. “Gimme another one baby, I know you cum harder when you're sensitive.”

In the midst of dominance, he still managed to pay attention to the details.

I fell into the throngs of passion again.

He growled, as he felt my body squeeze around him. His hand suddenly came in contact with my ass, a quick bite to my flesh as the slap resounded in the room.

I shrieked, the bed sheets clenched tightly in my fists. I shook with every tremor, while he continued his assault on my pussy as I rode out the euphoria, my core clenching down on him like a vice.

“Atta girl,” he praised, running his hand soothingly over the newly reddened skin on my cheek, moving to my back when I finally tipped the peak and started to come back down. His hand left my clit alone and pulled himself out of me making me groan from the sensitivity.

I collapsed rolling onto my back as I caught my breath, my whole body tingling. Cracking my eyes open, I saw him sitting back lightly stroking his cock as he watched me. His cock was an angry red; his fingers lightly grazing his tip and coming back down again. “You haven’t cum yet?” I breathed.

He chuckled, letting himself go, laying himself over me. I instinctively spread my legs open for him. He nudged at my folds as he spoke, “I’m saving the best for last.”

My toes curled as he pushed into me again. He quickly began an unforgiving pace, his thrusts getting harder as his animalistic side began to surface. He began to grunt as the force of his thrusts grew. “Only you, baby,” he assured between his groans.

Moments later he rolled us over placing me above him. “Think you can finish us off?”

I bit my lip, trying to stop my smile. I sat myself up and began to rock my hips, shifting his cock deliciously inside of me. All my cares were thrown out the window as I moaned out into the room not giving a single damn of how much I voiced my pleasure. I could feel a new sense of euphoria building in me, and I was desperate to get us both there.

I pulled out every trick I knew. I reached back and fondled his sac for a bit, I leaned forward and let him mouth at my tits for a while. I could feel the sweat beading at my brow and my legs were starting to burn as both of us started getting desperate but neither of us wanted to be the one to let go first. I leaned back placing my hands on his thighs letting him watch my pussy grip his cock. I shifted my legs, getting a better position to bounce on him.

“God, you are too fucking good to me,” he whispered stroking my waist.

Pride swirled in my chest. I leaned my body over him pressing my mouth to his as I rocked my hips. Every tilt forward pressed his pubic bone into my clit making me moan. I suddenly felt something different begin to build. I sat up with a small gasp.

“What is it baby?”

I reached for his hand, “just touch me.”

I placed his fingers on my clit and he began to gently rub but it wasn’t doing it. I touched his hand, “harder and faster,” I breathed. He obliged willingly.

“Something's different this time.”

A smirk began to play on his lips, “a good different?”

I was almost heaving for breath as my peak continued to grow, “yea.”

He bit his lip shifting his legs to get some more leverage to help thrust at a better angle. “Just tell me what you need.”

A different kind of pressure was beginning to grow in my pelvis as I continued to ride him, his cock nudging a sweet spot deep inside me.

“Just don’t stop.”

He kept rubbing and kept pushing his hips up into me when the overwhelming sudden urge to push came about.

I let my body do what felt right.

I squeezed my eyes shut and my jaw dropped as liquid suddenly spread between us and my head felt like it was higher than the clouds. A strangled cry clawed its way out my throat and I felt Bennys hands grip my thighs as he was catapulted into his own release.

My hand rushed to replace his hand on my now neglected clit as we both gripped each other for dear life. The pleasure tore through us simultaneously, both of us grinding our hips into each other prolonging the bliss.

I slowly came back to earth when I felt Benny’s fingers digging painfully into my thighs.

“Kathy- baby, baby- you gotta- hold on,” he moaned.

I stopped moving and he fell back laying flat on the bed, his abdomen heaving with his breaths. “Fucking shit,” he breathed. “I didn’t mean to cut you short but-” he swallowed thickly, “just give me a minute.” He laid there for a moment with his eyes shut letting his body come back down. “Also, did I miss something, or did you just squirt?”

I half laughed, a little embarrassed by the wetness between us, “I honestly didn’t really know I could do that, I’ve never done that before.”

A groan escaped his throat as I gently pulled myself off of him, his release quickly running back out of me. “Benny,” I whined.

“Yep,” he replied, slipping out from under me, to grab a towel from the bathroom, “on it.”

Soon after we were both cleaned up, sheets changed, and we were both snuggled underneath.

He had me pulled into his chest, our legs intertwined, his fingers gently carding themselves through my hair.

“I’m sorry I accused you of being with another woman,” I murmured softly.

He let the silence beat for a few moments before replying, “I’m sorry I even gave you a reason to think that.”

The fan in the corner blew a cool breeze over us, and the sound of his steady breaths soothed me.

“It’s just so hard when I have nothing but time to think when you're gone, and then when you’re here, you hardly tell me anything that's going on.” He stayed quiet, listening to me. “You know how my mind works,” I added more quietly.

“I promise I’m working on getting things back under control, baby. Once Johnny hears of this, you won't have to worry anymore.”

He pressed a kiss to my hair. “Ain’t nothing going to happen to either of us, I’ll make sure of it.”

Need more? Check out my other works! > masterlist

#austin butler #austin butler smut #austin x reader #austin benny smut #austin bikeriders #austin bikeriders smut

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captainfern · 9 months

Note

literally anything graves pls pls pLS PLS PLS PSL

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Tusk

Commander Phillip Graves x fem!reader

[“Tusk” by Fleetwood Mac]

[18+]

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• summary - you and graves were enemies (kinda?) and are exposed to a weird chemical. the classic fuck-or-die scenario lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 3.2k • warnings - fem!reader, sex pollen, enemies-to-lovers?, unprotected piv (they're both drugged up so imma just leave this here as a reminder), praise, breeding kink !!!, strong language, violence

not ashamed to say i'm a graves whore 🙏

also love a good ol' fuck-or-die sex pollen fic lolol

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You crept through the woods with your assault-rifle clutched heavily in your hands. You were careful to step lightly, avoiding patches of twigs and dry leaves. Clouds brewed overhead and it smelt of rain as you sucked in a deep breath, eyes darting around.

Separated from your task force an hour ago, you had been forced to continue through the eerily quiet woodlands in pursuit of your target alone. A terrorist lurked somewhere beyond the sea of trees and you were determined to hunt him down.

Walking for a bit longer, the forest thinned and opened up into a small clearing. In the centre, the target you had been pursuing, kneeling on the ground and rummaging through the contents of a small plastic box, almost like a toolbox.

You cocked your gun and stepped into the clearing.

"Don't fucking move." You hissed, approaching slowly. Wind was picking up around you, rustling the leaves, tree branches swaying in the wind, making it hard to detect any foreign movement amongst the foliage.

The target turned, still on his knees, hands still in the narrow plastic box on the ground before him. You pointed your gun directly at him.

"Show me your hands." You said, trying to keep your anger at bay.

The man simply looked at you, not an ounce of fear on his face. You cocked your head to the side, and that's when you heard it— hurried footsteps running up behind you. Before you could react, an arm was wrapping around your neck, pulling you backwards.

You fell to the floor, the wind being knocked out of you as another man pinned you to the ground, the point of a long knife prodding into your stomach. Each shallow breath you took skimmed the blade rougher along your skin through your shirt. The mans other hand was ripping your gun from your hands, tossing it away.

"Son of a bitch—!" You grumbled, slamming your fist into the mans face repeatedly.

After a few blows, his nose bleeding heavily, he caught your arm and kept it pinned to your chest. You grunted, wiggling beneath him.

He shook his head at you. "Don't—"

A gunshot echoed loudly through the clearing, and the man on top of you exploded in a spray of red, collapsing to the side and rolling off your body. You quickly jumped to your feet, scrambling to pick up your gun as a couple more shots filled the clearing. You looked around, your stomach dropping.

Fucking Graves.

He jammed a fresh mag into his gun, cocking it and firing it at the man in the centre of the clearing. The man rolled across the dirt, taking his box with him. You scowled, cocking your own gun and running towards the man on the ground.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You heard Graves shout after you. "Don't get close!"

Why would you listen to him? As soon as you got rid of your target, you were seriously contemplating popping a cap in Graves' head too.

You stormed over to the man on the floor, who was trying to crawl away, bleeding from his leg. He turned onto his back as you lifted your gun, muzzle trained on his face. You had your finger on the trigger when he reached into his box, and threw something at you.

"Sergeant— fuck!" Graves ran over to you, shooting the man and killing him.

It was too late, and whatever the target threw at you exploded across your body in a massive, glittering cloud of yellowy-pink smoke. You gasped in shock, the substance invading your airways and filling your lungs. You stumbled back, skin caked in sunset-coloured residue, glittering beneath the sun rays filtering through the clouds.

Graves was coughing a few feet away from you, hunched over, his gun clattering to the ground. He had his hands on his knees, spitting up the substance that sparkled like glitter in his saliva. His skin was dusted with it too.

"What... what did I fucking say? Stupid fucking–" He cut himself off with a violent cough, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and standing up.

Meanwhile, you were wiping as much of the substance off as you can, your skin tingling. Not tingling in pain, but tingling with warmth. It didn't take long for the yellowish-pink colour to dissipate, leaving behind glitter that coated your skin like something out of fucking Twilight.

"What the hell..." You breathed, tasting something sweet in your mouth. Sugar, peaches, a hint of something earthy, like ginger.

Your brows furrowed, mind foggy. What were you about to say?

You looked over at Graves, who had picked up his gun and strapped it to his chest. He was looking at you, the same confused expression on his face, mirroring yours.

"What was that?" You asked, voice breaking.

Graves blinked down at the dead body, then squatted beside it, inspecting the contents of the plastic box. After a moment, he got to his feet so fast you though he'd been eletrecuted.

"We need to get out of here." He said, urgency in his tone. He wrapped a hand around your wrist and began pulling you away.

"What?" You scowled, tugging your hand away from his. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

Graves whirled around. "Don't start this. We need to get somewhere safe, sergeant, whether you like it or not."

You crossed your arms over your chest, skin still glittering. "Why should I listen to you?"

Graves sighed through his nose, a frown heavy on his face. "You know what? Fine. Don't come with me. Stay here and die in the fucking woods for all I care."

With that, he turned and stormed away. You watched him vanish into the forest, now alone with the silence and rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage. You were feeling abnormally hot for some reason. Something warm settled in your stomach, and you groaned, shaking your head to yourself before your legs started moving before your brain could think, and you were chasing after him.

•º•

Graves led you back to his armoured car, parked covertly amongst the trees beside a desolate dirt road.

By the time you both got to the car, you felt as though your insides were on fire. Your skin was heating up, your clothes suddenly heavy and uncomfortable against you. Sweat glistened along your bare arms and face, the glitter left behind from the substance still embedded in your pores.

Your arms and legs trembled when you clambered into the front seat, Graves slamming the door shut behind you. You placed your gun at your feet.

Something in the pit of your stomach was tight, like a ball of anxiety, making you feel all sorts of dizzy as your eyes struggled to keep focused. Your mind was foggy, too, but not in a nauseous way. Like everything around you was a dream, fuzzy at the edges.

But the worst of it all, you were throbbing.

You could feel your core pulsing, soaking your underwear. Your arousal was dripping out of you, making your face grow warmer as you squeezed your thighs together. Your tits ached within the confines of your bra, and you whined as Graves settled into the drivers seat and started the engine.

He spared a quick glance at you. He too was slick with sweat, his pupils blown wide like he was high on something.

"Are you alright?" He asked, sounding breathless, his southern drawl stretched across the vowels.

The armoured car rumbled to life, and the vibrations made your core flutter around nothing. A stream of arousal leaking from you and you could feel it. You whined, biting your lip. Your heart hammered against your ribcage so hard it was starting to hurt.

"Mhm..." you were trying to look anywhere but him.

Usually, you avoided looking at Graves because his smug face made you really fucking annoyed. But now... embarrassing enough, his smug face was making you horny.

Graves' driving was erratic down the narrow dirt road. He was trying desperately to get out of these woods as quick as he could, but it was no use. You were both truly in the middle of nowhere, and the drive was going to be long and severely uncomfortable.

He felt hot and sticky. Nothing like Texan summers. His clothes were drenched with sweat, smelling sickly sweet like ripe orchard fruit. He grit his teeth, feeling his cock throbbing within the confines of his underwear, stomach tight with the need for release.

What the hell was going on?

He tried to keep his eyes on the road, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, but he couldn't help it. Couldn't help sparing a glance at you beside him.

Bottom lip between your teeth, skin glittering with sweat and residue. Your pupils were blown too, like those fucking Beanie Boo stuffed toys. He noticed your thighs pressed tightly together, and the way your hands gripped the edge of the seat, shaking.

He ripped his eyes away from you with a grunt. His cock was hard now, straining in his trousers.

After an eternity (half a minute) you released a whine, the pressure building within you too much to handle.

"Graves..." you whimpered, hot and bothered and horny. "Graves, please."

"What?" He breathed, trying to be stern, but it came out more as a strained groan.

"I can't... I need... fuck," you wriggled in your seat. "I'm— ah, please. I need... I needa come."

Graves groaned. "Christ, don't say that, sarge."

"Please," you whimpered. "Help me."

"Christ," he grit his teeth and veered directly off the road before slamming on the breaks, the armoured car sheltered between the trees. "The Lord is testing me today."

Graves pushed his door open, hopping out before he slammed it shut. A moment later, he was clambering into the backseat.

"Come on." He whispered, and you bit your lip, crawling through the gaps in the front two seats until you were in the back also.

You moved to straddle him, your thighs pressing over his. His hands came to rest on your hips, just holding as the both of you looked at each other, sharing rapid breaths. Your skin was burning where he was touching you at the waistband of your trousers.

"What are we doing?" You whispered.

He licked his lips. "Don't know."

You kissed him, and he kissed you back. You cupped his face in your hands as his tongue broke past the seam of your lips, pressing to yours. You moaned into the kiss, exchanging sugary-sweet saliva that made your core throb. Graves let out a low sound, gripping your hips tightly and grinding you down onto the bulge in his cargos.

You moved your hips with his hands as you kissed. Shifting your aching core across the tent in the denim, the friction sending shock waves through your body, making your thighs quiver. You whined into the kiss, and Graves pulled back.

"Y'alright?" He whispered, foreheads pressed together.

You moaned, chasing his mouth again. This time, your tongue swiped against his lips first. You moved your hips, the seam of your trousers pressing roughly to your core, making you suck in a deep breath.

Graves moved one hand to the back of your neck, gently prying your mouth away from his. You pouted, the unsettling warmth returning to your lips and face the moment you weren't kissing him.

"Y'alright?" He repeated, massaging the back of your neck. "Need you to t-talk to me, sarge."

You nodded deliriously. "Yes, yeah, fuck, m'fine."

"We... I can stop if—"

"Don't you fucking dare." You hissed, rocking yourself harder onto his bulge, making his eyes roll.

He groaned, allowing you to pull him back into the kiss. Meanwhile, you reached your hands downwards and caught hold of his belt. You unbuckled it, then proceeded to unzip his cargos.

Graves groaned, pulling out of the kiss and lifting his hips, you still on his lap. You shuffled back and pulled his cargos with you. Dipping a hand into his underwear, you freed his cock with a moan on your lips. He groaned too, bucking into your touch.

"Holy..." He gritted his teeth, hissing out a breath as you clasped a hand around his cock.

It was hot in your hand, so hard it was throbbing against your palm. The reddened tip was leaking pearl after pearl of pre-cum, dribbling continuously from his slit. He moaned your name, head falling back against the carseat as you pumped him.

Your hole fluttered around nothing at the sight.

"Graves..."

"Yeah, baby, you okay?" He sounded fucked out.

You moaned. "Need you inside me."

"Oh, fuck," Graves whimpered as you began shimmying your own cargos away from your body. "Fuck, yeah, o-okay... okay, baby, hol' on... jus' hol' on."

His words were slurring together as he watched you, hard cock bobbing up against his abdomen. He groaned loudly, catching sight of your underwear— completely drenched, dark with your arousal. He cupped it with the palm of his hand, causing you to whine out his name.

"So wet, baby," he whispered, rubbing two thick fingers up and down your folds. "God damn, so fucking wet. Jus' look at you, doll."

"Commander..." you moaned, and you didn't mean for it to come out so sultry, but it did.

Graves moaned loud. He hooked his two fingers beneath the material of your underwear and pulled them to the side, exposing your sopping cunt. Your arousal was literally dripping from you, making Graves moan loudly again.

"Yeah, tha's right, tha's fuckin' right," Graves mumbled, eyes trained on your glistening core. "S'your commander who's gon' stuff this tight cunt."

You moaned around a sob as Graves guided you to hover over his cock. The head notched at your entrance, fireworks exploding in your stomach and he hadn't even pushed in yet.

"Hold this pretty thing outta the way for me, baby." Graves grabbed your hand, urging you to take hold of the edge of your underwear, keeping your fluttering hole exposed.

You listened, and he used one hand to grip your hip and the other to grip the base of his cock. Then, he pushed you down, thrusting his hips at the same time, his cock slamming inside you in one swift motion.

You had been slightly worried that the stretch would hurt. You hadn't prepped at all, and the size of him had made your breath hitch. But, as he bottomed out, your worries were gone. You were so fucking wet that he pushed in with ease, a loud, lewd squelch echoing around the armoured car.

Graves moaned your name.

You whimpered, feeling his fat cock pulsing inside you. So warm and hard. You squeezed around him, and Graves moaned again. Then, he grabbed both of your hips and began thrusting up into you with desperation. You put one hand on his shoulder to help stabilise yourself.

"G-Graves..." You stuttered out as his cock slammed into that spot within you over and over. Your body was on fire, rapidly approaching release the fastest you ever had. But the feeling settled deeply in your stomach, building tighter and tighter.

Your legs shook around him, the hand holding your underwear shaking too. Graves saw this and he knocked your hand away, opting instead to rip your underwear off your body. You gasped, the elastic snapping against your bare skin. Still fucking up into you, he stuffed the material into the pocket of his cargos, half-way down his thighs.

You would've made a cheeky remark if he hadn't stripped you of your ability to think clearly.

His cock kissed your cervix with each upwards thrust. He grunted deeply, pressing open-mouthed kissed along the expanse of your bare neck. He sucked the glittering residue from your throat, moaning, dragging his teeth against the soft skin.

You moaned, hands tightening around his shoulders. You were so close, a burning hot pleasure packed tight in the base of your tummy.

"Easy, baby, easy," Graves soothed as desperate whines left your mouth, your body shaking. "I've got you. Good girl... you wanna come? Yeah, you wanna come?"

"Please." You pleaded through a moan, and Graves placed his mouth to yours for a moment.

When he pulled back, your mouth fell open as his cock nudged you closer and closer to release. One of the hands he had on your hips snaked downwards, and you felt a finger press roughly to your clit. You keened, moaning loudly as he rubbed even circles across your little bundle of nerves.

"Please, please, please." You babbled, eyes drawing closed as your body grew tighter and tighter, the burning pressure in your lower tummy becoming unbearable.

Graves hummed, eyes on your face. "Tha's it, baby. Come 'round my cock. Come 'round my cock, good girl, tha's it."

The heavy pressure in your tummy released as you came, and you now realised what exactly it was.

You gushed around him, moaning his name over and over again. Your release flooded out past his cock, drenching his thighs and the light hair at the base. Your hole clamped and squeezed around him, wet squelches growing louder as his pace picked up.

You fucking squirted.

And Graves loved it.

He moaned. "Fucking hell. G-good girl, baby, oh my God—"

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, whimpering. You felt a bit better, but you were still burning hot. Your core was still sopping wet and overly sensitive. You just needed him to come.

Luckily for you, he was almost there.

Graves had both his hands on your hips again, chasing his high. He grunted and groaned, breathing erratically as his cock slammed into you. You whimpered and whined into his neck, and he was listening to you, squeezing your hips softly.

"Take it, baby, you can take it. Take my cock like a good girl, yeah? Almost there, baby, jus' sit pretty an' take it."

With a few more desperate ruts of his cock, Graves threw his head back and moaned your name. It made your cunt squeeze around him.

"M'coming, baby," he whispered. "Want you to take it all. Want to fill you up, alright? Want it to take, baby, want it to fuckin’ take."

You groaned, sucking on the warm skin of his neck as he continued to rut into you, thrusts becoming sloppier.

"Tha's it, baby, good girl, let my fill this tight cunt," Graves mumbled deeply. "Let me make you a mommy. Wanna make you a mommy, baby, come on."

He came with a moan of your name, stuffing himself so deep that you swore you could feel him in your stomach. You whimpered as he filled you, hot and sticky. There was a lot, too— Graves pumped you full, groaning breathlessly into the armoured car, cock plugging his seed deep inside you.

It didn't soften much either as the two of you caught your breaths. You weren't on fire, anymore. But your core still ached for him, even though he was literally still inside you.

You leaned back, and he placed a kiss to your cheek.

"You feeling alright, sarge?" He asked in a whisper, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

"Yeah," you breathed. "You?"

"Better already," he said. "But... let's go again, just to make sure we got it out of our systems. How's that sound?"

It sounded good, actually.

Really fucking good.

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i wanna fuck the shit outta this man no joke

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #fem reader #phillip graves #graves call of duty #graves cod #cod mw2 #cod smut #graves smut #cod mwii #captain'sfleetwood

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lxinesux · 1 year

Text

when i sink my teeth, (your skins not so tough)

Relationship: Peter Parker x Green Goblin!Super Solider!Reader

Summary: Peter reacts poorly to your attempted sacrifice. He seeks to let you know just how much you mean to him.

Warnings: Panic Attack, guns, PTSD, gore, violence, blood, and implied torture. Slight dubcon kissing that becomes very con lol Frottage, love confessions.

A/N: *screech* this has been rotting in my google docs for WEEKS and i’ve been editing it ova and ova and it’s still not up to par, to me. So I give lol. I really love this reader so- you may see her again. ONWARD!!

Peter very gently sets you on your shaky feet, trying to keep hold of your waist while he maneuvers out of the window.

You're already bleeding through the layers of webbing he used instead of a bandage and it’s soaking through the spandex of your costume. The wound itself doesn’t hurt, the adrenaline making sure of that, but you’re hot and cold and shaking and are pretty sure you're gonna vomit-

You tear the mask off your face, grunting as a few stray hairs are ripped from your scalp. You’re coated in sweat and grime but you’re freezing.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Peter says from some faraway place.

You press against the wound just under your ribs, shuffling to the cluttered couch in the far corner of the living room. You fall onto it and shut your eyes.

There’s that pain from earlier. It’s hot, white lightning in your stomach. It makes you mean. “Fuck off-“

“Let me see it!”

“No, fuck off Pete!”

“You just want me to let you bleed out on the couch!?”

“Yes!”

Talking is too much right now. You can hear Peter’s mask drop onto the cluttered living room floor. Hear the soft thack thack thack that means he’s crawling on the ceiling.

Away from you, thank fuck.

You press your cheek against the jersey couch cover and try to ground yourself while your wound gains a heartbeat.

You really should’ve just let him get hit. Asshole. Truthfully, you’d rather die right here than have to explain why exactly you took a literal bullet for him.

It was all so embarrassing.

His back was turned, his reflexes delayed while he dealt with the rest of the villains of the week’s goons. You were too far away to get the gun away, and you could just tell, from the aim-

It might’ve killed him. Gotten into his spine. Paralyzed him in a way his dumb healing factor couldn’t fix.

Yes, he’d been shot before. Yes, he’d gone through worse. But what if this was the one time he wouldn’t heal? This split second, the moment the bullet left the chamber and burrowed under his skin-his life over, forever.

You couldn’t risk that.

So you jumped in the way.

His life was more important than yours, anyway. Everything Spiderman represented: hope, justice, protection, was worth more than anything you could do. That wasn’t the entire reason.

You couldn’t risk losing Peter. He was the only thing you had left, the only good thing. He was the only person in your life who didn’t think you were a freak or a monster.

He taught you how to be good. And if he were gone, your source of goodness would be gone with him.

At least if you died, it’d be martyrdom.

You can hear the thack, thack, thack return. It reverberates in your wound and between your ears. Pain, heat, pain.

He drops down in front of you, you can feel it through the cool air his descent leaves. He’s on his knees.

“Please,” he says.

“Can’t-”

He sighs, “Okay. This might hurt though. I’m gonna cut off this webbing, okay? It might peel off some skin so just-”

“Get on with it.”

Peter oh so gently peels your tacky, bloodied hands away from the wound. You’re locked in a fetal position from the pain, your knees up to your chest. You can feel the blood clotting though, a sign your much slower healing process is beginning.

Thank you, Goblin Formula.

It’s less painful and more irritating. The skin around the wound is tender and angry. Peter lets out a tense intake of air. It must look awful but you’re not gonna peek. You can handle blood and gore, just not your own.

“I’m cleaning the area now. It might sting,” You hate how his voice sounds so soft, so sweet, “You’ve stopped bleeding, but you’re gonna need stitches.”

You let out a pathetic whimper the moment the anti-septic touches your skin. You nearly arch up in pain. Fresh tears prick at your eyes.

“That hurts!” You squirm, trying to get away from the source of the agony.

“I told you it would! Hold still!”

“Stop!”

You try to jerk away, but he holds your wrist. You open your eyes then, to glare at him. But he’s looking up at you, his brows furrowed and those hazel eyes are shimmering with unshed tears.

The tenseness of his jaw says he’s angry. You’re familiar with his anger. But not the sadness. Not the fear that his eyes are showing you. You want to shut your eyes again, to get away from the onslaught of overwhelming emotions directed toward you.

His eyes move swiftly back to his work, “Just…just hold still okay? Stop squirming…”

And you do hold still. You make eye contact with the streetlight through the window. Because it’s easier than looking at him.

“I’m gonna sew you up now. You might want to hold onto a pillow or something. I promise…I’m not trying to hurt you. I’ll put on some numbing cream but you might still feel it…”

You nod stiffly. His hands are gentle on the flesh around the gash. You’ve thought about his hands a lot. How shapely they are. Beautifully made. And strong. You’ve felt them on your body before, but never in the way you envision. It almost hurts; this is how he touches you, only when you’re wounded.

The numbing cream doesn’t stop the feeling of your skin getting pulled. He’s pulling your skin together as if he made you. Like you’re a stuffed toy or his suit after it rips. At this you whimper, you squirm at the unnatural feeling. He waits for you to stop moving before he starts again.

This feels too intimate. Your blood is on him, the blood you lost trying to protect him. He’s putting you back together, taking care of you. His breath is on your skin, his warmth near you.

Life is unfair.

If you weren’t so broken, if you were softer, if you were more like the girls at the Bugle-maybe he would touch you when you weren’t bleeding out. Maybe he would look at you with something that wasn’t fear and anger.

You both sit in silence as he bandages the fresh stitches. He swallows.

“Do you…do you want me to wipe you down?”

��…Just bring me a washcloth.”

“…Y/N..”

“Please, just…don’t. Not right now.”

He brings the washcloth, a bowl of warm water, as well as your favorite pajama pants and one of his shirts. He’s brought you a pillow too, and some clean sheets.

He knows you. He knows you and it sickens you to your core.

Ultimately, it means nothing. Of course, he’s seen your behavior. He’s lived with you for months now.

But it still makes your heart stutter in your chest that he knows which pair to fish out of the pile on the bathroom floor. Understands without saying, you need to be alone.

“Yell if you need anything,” He says.

You nod stiffly. God, would he just leave you to suffer this embarrassment alone? You needed to stew in your bitter juices.

He looks at you one last time. And you know him just as he knows you. You can see on his face, the tenseness of his jaw, he wants to refuse.

You want him to stay.

He goes to the bedroom. Your gunshot wound isn’t the only thing aching.

You dream of him.

Those dark eyes on your body, his hands on your skin.

His pretty, soft lips on the ugly scarred parts of you. He makes them beautiful, makes them almost worth the pain that put them there if he just keeps lavishing them with kisses.

You can only imagine what his kisses feel like. What his hands feel like in your hair.

You love him. Fuck, you love him. You can admit that here, in the comfort of your brain. Here, you can press your fingertips into his shoulder blades. Feel the warmth of him pressed against your naked body.

You’ve thought about his cock often. You’ve felt it against you more than once. In the mornings, you felt it press aggressively, almost pleadingly, against your ass in that tiny twin bed you share. In the evenings, you imagined it in the grey sweats he wore around the house.

He thrusts in and out of you, slow and deep. His tongue swipes up your jaw and swirls around your ear.

“I love you,” He pants, “I love you so fucking much.”

He would never love you if he knew all that you’d done. You couldn’t even remember how many lives you took, how much blood you spilled.

You were a weapon. You were never taught lust or love. You never felt them, or their lack.

You’d never even thought about sex until you moved into his apartment and started sharing his bed. All you craved was skin, heat, and the soft intimacy of just holding each other. Then those urges gained an edge. A hunger grew in you that frightened you. It would gnaw its way through you if you’d let it.

You can’t say it back, but you don’t need to. He knows. In this reality, he knows. He knows and you know and all that matters is that you’re together. It’s safe and warm here.

Here is a bloodless place. A woundless place.

There’s no pull of stitches as he contorts your body into the position he needs you in. You’re so close. He has you on your knees, back arched. He reaches between your legs, rubbing at your clit in slow circles.

You make noises that you’d never make in real life. Your body betrays itself, and surrenders to the blinding pleasure.

You're gone, your knees locking, your head thrown back, and then-

It hurts. Dear fucking god, it hurts.

How the fuck did you manage to roll off the couch? During your sex dream, no less. And landed perfectly on your fresh wound.

“Ow.”

Your pride is what hurts the most. But the new irritation on your stitching sends waves of nausea through you. You lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling for a few moments. Allow yourself a few deep breaths.

You force yourself upwards and immediately regret it. It’s dizzying and fills your mouth with the runny vile you swallow.

So sexy. Very en vogue of you.

You move Peter’s shirt out of the way. Your flesh is irritated, and bright red from your unexpected trip to the floor. But the stitches held. Peter had stellar handiwork.

The morning sun peaks its head across the Brooklyn skyline. The only nice thing about this shit-hole apartment was the bay windows. It allowed for perfect post-patrol viewing, right on the floor.

You feel gross, despite your bird bath last night. You wonder where Peter is. You take a moment, more breathing, to rest against the couch leg.

You need a proper shower. Your hair is heavy with sweat and smells like soot.

At Oscorp, they would’ve laughed at your complaint. Correction, you would’ve never complained. You and your filthy hair were simply meant to serve a greater purpose. They’d give you a public shower with a sad, pale, foamy bar of generic soap and no hot water.

Figure it out yourself, Asset.

You weren’t an Asset anymore. You very gently touch your stitches again. Wince at the tenderness of the wound. You never felt anything before Peter. No pain, discomfort, hunger, or thirst.

After him, you are Human. Unfortunately, repugnantly, aggressively human. With limitations, with discomforts.

You miss the days of numbness. Peter brought out feelings you never wanted and were better off without.

You would give this man anything he wanted. You would do whatever he asked, no matter the price. It terrified you, this deep loyalty. It was as though your programming flipped, from the Osbournes and your handlers to Peter Parker and Spiderman.

You stand up on shaky legs. Finally, it seemed like the pain was abetting. Your stomach gurgling stabilized. Your feet pad across the hardwood, using autopilot.

You turn your head briefly. The bathroom was attached to the tiny bedroom you shared. The only small blessing that brought was confirming Peter was home, he was still bunched up under the covers. Judging by how early it was, he’d probably be asleep for another few hours.

You shut the door, careful to move it along its fickle framework. You slide your shirt off, gently place a waterproof bandage over your gash, and start the water.

Of course, you’d decide to make as much noise as possible right when he was getting to sleep.

He groaned, half-heartedly throwing his arm over his eyes.

You were okay though. You were alive.

Holy fuck.

Holy fuck, you almost died last night.

It all comes back to him, the memories stabbing into his brain like a million knives. God, you were being stupid, and reckless, like you didn’t care if you lived or died-

But you were okay now. You were alive, alive, alive. He could go into the bathroom right now, and you would be there.

It’s too late.

His body trembles. He bites down on his lower lip, trying not to cry out. He squeezes his eyes shut, but hot tears still burn down his cheeks. Shit, shit, shit. Waking up in a panic attack was common but not something he would ever get used to.

He digs the palms of his into his eyelids. His flesh was going against him, muscles tensing, chest tightening. His burning, screaming lungs weren’t getting any air. He just kept seeing your blood. On his hands, on the concrete, on your costume.

You could’ve died. You could’ve wound up in the ground. Just like his parents. Uncle Ben.

Gwen.

“Hey.”

His ears are filled with cotton. His hands are pried away from his eyes. Under the sheen of tears, he can see your blurry outline.

“Hey.” You repeat, pulling him toward you. Your skin is wet, your hair dripping onto his bare shoulder. “I’m here. I’m here, Pete. I got you.”

His hand finds its way into your wet hair, the other gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. His heart beats painfully against his ribs. If you weren’t a mutant, he would’ve crushed you instantly. He had forgotten his strength.

“Don’t do that again,” he pants into your hair, “I swear to God. I’m not worth that. I’m not-I can’t handle more blood on my hands, more sacrifices-”

“Peter, I’m not-”

“You’re all I have, it’s my job to protect you.”

You want to say that it’s the opposite, that it’s the least you can do, protect him.

You rub his back, trying to help soothe him through the episode. You did this. You started this. You gave him this episode because of your stupidity.

What feels like hours pass before calms fully. His body goes limp in your arms. He trusts you so much. He’s so vulnerable. It makes your stomach flip. It’s more than you deserve.

“Does it hurt?”

“Hm?”

“Your gunshot wound?”

“Oh. I fell on it this morning,” God, how embarrassing to admit that, “But it’s fine now. It’s starting to heal. Might need to take the stitches out early.”

His face stays pressed against your neck, his warm breath against your jugular.

You feel something press against your neck. Soft, unsure. Then again, a little more urgent, harder. Then again, moving up toward your ear. Leaving small, but not unpleasant tingles in their wake.

It takes your brain a moment to realize what’s happening. You freeze, every molecule in your body standing at attention.

When you’d heard the telltale whimpering coming from the doorway, you’d thrown on his bathrobe. It hadn’t occurred to you until this moment that you were very, very naked underneath.

He moves away from you when your body tenses.

“Christ, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing…”

“Adrenaline.” You say. Do you want to believe that? No. You want to believe that Peter was kissing your neck because he desired you. But that wasn’t rational. “You were having an adrenaline rush, your mind was seeking comfort and I’m the closest warm body-“

“Do you think I see you that way? A warm body?”

His eyes are boring holes into yours. He knows you won’t answer truthfully, so you don’t waste your time answering.

It was how you were programmed to think. It was useless to fully go against your programming.

“If I lost you last night, I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

“That’s because it goes against your code of ethics. You want to protect humanity-“

He looks as though you’ve slapped him in the face, “Do you know why I wouldn’t let you go into SHIELD custody?”

You don’t.

“I could make up a lie and tell you it’s because you wouldn’t have been safe. I don’t trust SHIELD nor the Avengers but they would’ve kept you safe. I could say that I think you may be able to secure more information about my parents, but I don’t think I’ll ever really know all the answers. I’m not even sure if I want them anymore.”

“Stop, stop, don’t go any further-“

You don’t want to give yourself hope of what he might say. Of what he might do. Of any sort of future that would be dashed before your eyes once he knew what you were.

He grabs your wrists, “You are all I have. You’re all I want-“

“You don’t know what you’re asking for!”

He pins you down with your gathered wrists, his legs on either side of yours to keep you there. You’re belly up, your brain screaming to right yourself-your heart beats hard against your chest. He’s stronger than you, but only just barely. The bones in your wrist pop as you squirm.

“Get off me.”

“I love you.”

“No,” You hiss, “I won’t let you. I won’t allow it-“

His teeth hit your bottom lip, then scrape against your enamel, before his tongue unceremoniously slides into your mouth.

And you bite him.

Not hard enough to draw blood, but a warning nonetheless. It’s enough to startle him, enough for you to subdue him. For you to get him on his back, both of you panting hard.

Your robe is open far too much, your wound is stinging from exertion, but your mind is still in combat mode. Watching him watching you.

His eye lock on yours. The skin underneath them purple and still puffy. You can see the tackiness of dried tears on his cheek. The faint hint of a bruise on his hairline from the night before. His beard tentatively trying to grow back before he shaves it again.

That hunger is trying to stir again. You want to kill it. But it’s already made its way down. You’re pressed tightly against him.

You know he can feel you getting wet.

Your lip twitches. This was supposed to remain in your head. He wasn’t supposed to know anything. You were trying to protect him again. And again you were failing.

His cock gets semi hard underneath you and it really doesn’t help. A moan claws its way up your throat before you can cut it off.

“Fuck,” Peter says.

You don’t know how to initiate anything further. The soldier in you is confused. This goes against programming. Your body gets hot like the after effects of your wet dreams. Functionally, you know how this works. You know it feels good. But this is reality, not a dream.

It feels so much better than a dream.

You want to move. Not away, but toward. So you put your hands on Peter’s chest and move your hips, slightly, minutely.

“Oh m’god,” He breathes. His hands, his perfect hands, move to your hips. He’s so careful not to touch your wound that it hurts a little anyway. Like it’s trying to remind you who you are.

He guides you against his sweats, a little faster than your pace. Your clit is throbbing against this soft fabric and the hardness underneath it.

You want to tell him about the mess going on your head right now. Your horny confused brain, the hunger it feels. How this is fucked up and you should just get off. Not get off but get off of him. Fuck.

But all that came out were tiny desperate, embarrassing noises. You weren’t being seductive. To yourself, you sounded like a squeaky toy.

His hands move from your hips in the rob to your back, to your ass. He presses you down even harder. The jolt of wetness makes your face burn.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Y…yes…”

Peter keeps you rooted there. You try to move again but he tsks, holds your sides again.

“Pete…”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your mind feels mushy. Your one singular goal moving out of reach. Your limbs suddenly feel too long, too shaky. Your cunt is throbbing, hole closing around nothing. There’s an ache, an emptiness so intense you think you might fall into it and die.

“Peter, please…” You don’t sound like yourself. You can’t even hear yourself. Your head is too full of blood.

You feel that firm pressure against your neck again. You lean into it instead. His arms wrap around you then and you feel so dizzy.

Chest to chest now, the robe somehow made its way down to your waist. Your nipples brush against his skin and how are you meant to keep calm? It’s too much, it’s all too much.

Your hips move without him telling you, without his help. Faster, sloppy, erratic. Your stomach hurts. There’s a tightness in your chest that needs release.

“There you go, baby. Look at me. Look at me.”

He’s in your ear. Tears prick up behind your eyelids. If you look at him, you’ll lose your nerve. If you don’t, he might stop you again.

You do look. His hand cups your face. His eyes are shimmering with the same hunger you feel. Only, his isn’t shameful. On him, it looks terrifying, but erotic.

“Let me kiss you,” He groans, “Properly…let me. Please.”

You nod frantically. You’d agree to anything, the depth of your desperation was so great. His tongue swipes against your lips. You’re mouth opens quickly. You don’t know how to kiss. You’ve only ever seen it in movies. You don’t think it’s supposed to feel like electricity is running frantic under your skin like your lungs are shriveling up.

It’s not supposed to melt your brain, not supposed to turn your organs into liquid. Liquid that’s quickly running toward your pelvis. Fast, so fast. That ball in your chest unwinding with breakneck speed.

You cling to Peter’s sweating back, your fingers marking pretty purple-red spots along his shoulders. Your head jerks away from his.

Oh, God. Oh fucking, God. Too much. Too much. I can’t-

Peter presses back up against you. Your whole body quakes. You think you scream, you must scream. The force of your orgasm tears through you fast and without end.

Your body is still trembling when you come back down. You slump against Peter. His hands move over your body, petting your hair, rubbing your back.

“So good, baby. You did so good.”

“‘m sticky…”

He rumbles out a laugh, moving to lay you both on your sides. His sweats were a mess.

“You came in your pants,” you observe.

Another snort, “You were very hot. It would’ve been impossible not to.” He kisses you again, tongueless and sweet.

Something warm and sweet settles into your bones. Love. The physical feelings of love, belonging. Peter's fingers are gentle as he moves hair out of your face. He’s smiling and it feels like sunlight pouring on your face.

Maybe you do deserve this. Maybe it all doesn’t have to be rational.

“You wanna finish showering with me?”

You nod. His fingers intertwine with yours as he helps you up.

Maybe this could be good.

#peter parker x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter parker x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter imagine #spiderman smut #x reader smut

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badbatchsprincess · 28 days

Text

Heated ~ pt.4

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake.

Warnings: Some suggestive themes and awkward situations. Medical related jargon, and some canon type violence.

Happy bad batch eve... I hope we made it through this one, or we die like clones 🫡.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

"We’ve got incoming!" Tech announced from the cockpit.

"Crosshair, man the blasters!" Hunter ordered as he settled into the cockpit with Echo and Tech.

Crosshair skipped past you as you nudged your way over to the jump seats. You always hated this part. It was always separatists, pirates, or just some pissed-off asshole making it difficult for your squad.

You literally could not strap into the jump seat fast enough. Once secured, you clutched your medic pack to your chest while the others ran around in a frenzy.

"Steady the ship!" Crosshair barked as he unloaded the blaster cannons on the pursuers.

"Why can’t things just go smoothly?" You whined, gripping the seat straps.

Echo just gave you a sympathetic look while Tech skillfully outmaneuvered the gunships. A particularly loud blast hit the hull, and you screamed, praying to the maker that none of you would get sucked out into the vacuum of space.

"It’s okay, Pip," Wrecker tried to comfort you. "We’ve been through worse."

"Don’t remind me," you said, gripping the straps even tighter.

Tech said something to Hunter when Crosshair confirmed, "One down. Two to go."

"Who even is that?" Wrecker asked, trying to look over Crosshair's shoulder. The Sniper just grunted and went back to aiming the scope.

"Gonk! Gonk!" The droid chirped, nuzzling up to your boot.

"It’s okay, Gonky," you sobbed, feeling the G-force of one of Tech’s turns. "The boys got it… I think."

"Of course, we got it," Tech said.

"Get closer to the surface," Hunter ordered, and Tech made a dramatic turn towards the planet below.

You took a deep breath, trying to still your nerves. You were beginning to miss the boring moments from Anakin’s ship. This was definitely a stark difference.

"I can’t outrun them," Tech began fiddling with the controls. "They’ll just follow us to the surface."

"Two down!" Crosshair yelled.

He suddenly hit the accelerator, throwing everyone backward. You let out a scream as you watched Hunter’s feet float up into the air, and Gonky went sliding down the galley with a panicked wail. Even Wrecker went tumbling into the gunship’s stairs like a newborn fathier.

Tech suddenly cut the engines and whipped the back of the Marauder around, knocking Crosshair into the side of the glass window. Once the ship made a 180, he punched the accelerator and started charging straight for the last pursuer. Echo was quick with the front guns, firing accurately and hitting him on the nose. The ship exploded into a million pieces, and you finally let out the breath you had been holding.

"Everyone okay?" You called out, and they all groaned in response.

"Good flying, Tech," Hunter clapped his brother on the shoulder.

You sighed and ran a hand through your hair, finally letting the adrenaline calm down.

"I hope Kashyyyk is more welcoming than that," Echo mumbled.

"Doubt it," Crosshair came prowling back into the main cabin, reaching for Firepuncher.

"From my cross-referencing, I believe those gunships were Trandoshan," Tech pushed his goggles up the bridge of his nose. "That would make sense as to the very reason why we are here."

"We need to take out a separatist-backed outpost," Echo informed. "Trandoshans have assisted in building these operations. They don’t like the Wookies as they’ve been loyal to the Republic, so they’ve teamed up with the Seppies to get a few hits in."

You sighed, hoping everything would go smoothly this time. You happened to love the Wookies. Your best childhood friend was a Wookie. But that was a story for another time.

"Prepare for landing," Tech announced.

"General Plo is supposed to be touching down in one rotation," Hunter informed. "We have to take out their stronghold before then."

"General Plo? As in Commander Wolffe’s garrison?" Your pulse increased, and Hunter turned to look at you. You just gave him a little nod, and he continued on.

"Republic forces can’t deploy ground support until this artillery cannon has been destroyed."

"I get to blow it up?" Wrecker clapped.

"Yup," Hunter nodded.

"And how exactly are we supposed to get to this artillery unit?" Echo asked, looking at the schematics. "It’s surrounded with BX’s… my favorite." He groused.

You gave him a little supportive nudge.

"Do I get to stay on the ship?" You asked hopefully.

"Yes," Hunter agreed. "Pip stays on the ship. Echo, I understand if you don’t want to come given the situation."

Echo just groaned. "I know. But I want to come. I’ve got a score to settle."

Hunter agreed, which meant you’d stay on the ship and monitor coms in case they needed a swift pickup. The boys devised a strategic plan to get Wrecker behind the blockade to plant the charges, and that was that.

"Pip... If anything happens, and I mean anything, you shoot to kill, do you understand?" Hunter asked, handing you a blaster again. You just nodded and stepped into the holster, securing it to your belt. You had a feeling you were going to have to learn to use one of these things whether you liked it or not.

"Trandoshans have thick hides," Tech took the pistol and added one of his fancy charges in there. "You’ll need something stronger." The modified charge blasts glowed bright blue.

"Aim for the eyes," Crosshair tutted.

"Okay. Okay," you said, putting the blaster back into the thigh holster. "I will. Happy?"

The five Alphas just huffed in approval before gathering their things.

"Alright, let's get this done," Hunter led the charge.

"Close and lock the door!" Tech reminded you as the five left. You gave him a mock salute and hit the side panel, closing yourself inside the Marauder.

Deciding you needed something to keep you busy, you cranked up the volume on Tech’s radio and started getting to work on cleaning the filthy ship. After a week on board Skywalker’s Venator, you realized how nose blind you had become.

~~~

"Well, that’s disgusting," you used one of Tech’s soldering pliers to pick up a crusty sock from under his bunk.

Tossing the rest of Tech’s laundry into the repurposed supply sack, you threw the boys' nasty laundry into the washer, along with their sheets and blankets.

"No mercy!" you talked to yourself. "Everything goes in."

By the time you had heard anything from the boys, you had managed to clear out the entire cockpit, galley, and main cabin. You had a massive pile of trash you needed to take out. Between the six of you, there was a lot of Republic-issued meal wrappers and ration packs. You scrubbed, dusted, and washed every crack and surface in this whole damn ship. You had no clue where most of that gunk had come from, and you surely didn’t want to know. There was definitely a secondary ecosystem forming in this spacecraft.

You skipped up to the radio and put the headset on, "This is Pip, squad leader, come in."

"You doing okay out there?" Hunter asked.

"Yeah, just on my third load of laundry," you chuckled. "Did you know I found a few interesting items hidden on this ship?" You teased.

"Don’t go sticking your nose in places unless you're prepared for the consequences," Crosshair jested.

"Don’t worry, Cross," you bit your lip. "I found your socks too."

You could imagine him scowling at this point. You waited for his reply, "The Marauder’s clean enough to do surgery," you were cheery.

"Good, because we may be needing it," Tech’s reply made your blood run cold.

"What?" You stood up, taking the headset with you. "What happened?"

"The usual. Some minor cuts and bruises," Tech replied, "but Wrecker got a pretty bad gash to his cranium. He may require stitches."

"Okay, I’ll be ready. You guys get back here when you can, okay?"

"Will do, Pip," Hunter closed off the communication line.

You sighed and put down the headset before returning back to your project. Deciding you needed something to do besides worry about your unit, you went back to the galley and pulled out the already dry load of clothing from the tumbler.

You sat down on the floor, spreading out to fold the various clothes and sort them back into their proper piles.

Crosshair’s pile of ever-growing collection of black civvies sat to your left, Hunter had a few varying neutrals he likes. Wrecker had a few T-shirts with some of his favorite bands on them, and Tech had a very neat pile of lights he preferred to wear on his shore leave. That left Echo; the arch trooper had a pair of clothing for every occasion. The man preferred being comfortable. You understood. Spending that much time on ice, he liked what he liked and didn’t take one second of comfort for granted. He had pajamas, warm sweats, T-shirts, long sleeves, jackets, hoodies, shorts. You smiled and folded everything neatly before setting the piles on their owners' cots.

You smiled at your work and went back to put the last of the laundry in the dryer.

Taking Wrecker’s Tooka mug, you filled it with lukewarm caff and sat down at the dining table, sipping it slowly. You even picked away at a freeze-dried snack pack, waiting for the tumbler to ding.

"Gonky?" You called out into the storage room.

"Gonk. Gonk." You heard the chirpy little droid respond before waddling out into the galley.

"How’s your battery levels?" You asked.

He just shook back and forth.

"Should I hook you up to the solar?" You asked, reaching under the dining table.

"Gonk!" He waddled closer and spun around so you could hook him up to the energy system. Gonky settled and powered down next to you while he went through his charging cycle.

"There you go, little guy."

You heard a sudden loud bang in the distance, making you shoot up from the Tooka mug.

"What the..." You looked outside of the cockpit window and saw a massive mushroom cloud forming in the distance. It took a second, but when the sound wave hit, the entire Marauder shook violently, making Gonky startle.

"Wrecker…" You shook your head, knowing he’ll be over the moon about the size of the dust cloud.

You heard the dryer ding, so you popped the last freeze-dried fruit nib in your mouth before adding the packaging to the trash and sauntered over to the galley. Pulling the massive pile of sheets out onto the floor, you got to work finishing it up before they could get back.

Once every bunk was made, and every last clean sock was returned to their storage drawers, you plopped back down into Tech’s chair, debating whether or not you should pull up a holofilm to bide the time.

"Pip!" Echo’s voice radioed in, "Open the hatch!"

You chucked your data pad to run to the door panel. You slammed the disengage, letting the door flip down. You were greeted with the boys struggling to support Wrecker, who was covered in crimson blood.

You didn’t say a word; instead, you turned to grab your pack and make room for him to sit comfortably.

Crosshair and Tech helped the big guy on board and into the main cabin where you had him sit on a cargo crate.

"What happened, Wrek?" You said softly, approaching him.

He just groaned and slumped his shoulders, mumbling to himself.

"What was that?" You asked again, pulling out your cleaning solution.

He shrugged a little embarrassed. "I hit my head on a low pipe."

"Awh, honey," you cooed, bringing the cool cloth to his head. "You gotta look where you’re going."

"I knowww," he groaned.

You smiled and continued your work, gently cleaning up all of the blood in the surrounding areas to prepare him for some bacta and a bandage.

“It smells weird in here,” he sniffled, suddenly realizing the years of gunk were gone.

“Because it’s clean!” Echo admonished.

“Any trouble, Adi’ka?” Hunter asked, setting down his heavy pack.

You shivered at the Mando’a but tried to play it off. The last time you had heard that word, he had been all over you in the hangar bay. “Nope. Everything was quiet.”

“Good,” he seemed pleased, slowly beginning to take off his armor and put the pieces in a pile on top of his pack. He walked off to the cockpit to relay the success to General Plo.

You shuffled around Wrecker and stood between his legs to get a missed patch of dried blood. You looked down at him and whispered into his unscarred ear, “What does that mean?”

He looked up at you with a smirk, “It means he thinks you're small.”

“Small?” You tilted your head.

“Yeah,” Wrecker chuckled, “You are!”

“Am not,” you scrunched your nose.

“You’re tiny!” He put his hand on top of your head, which you realized barely reached his height while he was seated. “Our little Pipsqueak.”

“It doesn’t mean she’s small, you idiot,” Crosshair passed into the main cabin wearing his more relaxed clothing, “It means little one,” he drawled.

“That’s what I said,” Wrecker argued.

Crosshair just shook his head and continued into the cockpit. Unlike Wrecker, you didn’t miss the double meaning. It was the same pet name Crosshair used with you. It suddenly made a shiver run over your skin. Little one. It was a term of endearment. You were starting to feel hot all over again.

“You okay, Pip?” Wrecker noticed you get lost in thought.

You just nodded and continued your work. You smeared a healthy amount of bacta on his gash and covered it thoroughly with a bandage. “Hey, Wrek?” You started cleaning up your supplies. “Do you think of me as pack?” You asked softly, half expecting him to reject you.

“As pack?” He asked, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Mhmm?” You responded; the suspense was killing you.

“I always thought of you as pack, Pip,” he smiled, bringing you into a big bear hug. You let out a deep breath, feeling relief. You hugged him back, letting the happy little omega in you relax.

Wrecker was pack. Facts.

“Do you think the others do?” You whispered again.

He whispered back, “I think the others do too. Echo’s always been, but I’m not entirely sure about Crosshair,” he was sympathetic. It was exactly the answer you hoped for.

Wrecker let you go a little bit, “I saw how upset he was when Hunter hurt you bad. So maybe he does. I dunno,” he shrugged.

“What are you two whispering about back there?” Echo’s voice rang throughout the cabin, and both you and Wrecker flushed red, getting caught red-handed.

“Nothing!” You giggled, handing him a juice pack.

He happily took it and slurped it down. You were hoping to get his blood sugar back up from the blood loss. You gave his arm a little squeeze and helped him up to his feet. You gave him instructions to go eat something and stay awake for the next 12 hours after a head injury.

“Who’s next?” You yelled.

Tech came scampering into the dining area, taking off his glove to show you his busted knuckles. You followed the same steps as Wrecker, cleaning and repairing. He then took off his helmet, and you helped pull a few pieces of stray shrapnel from his cheek.

“Just so you know, Y/N, I too think of you as pack,” he said suddenly, making your hand falter. He had heard you and Wrecker.

You looked up at the skinny clone with emotion in your eyes, “Really?”

“Though we are not the most traditional group, it would seem you fit well into our dynamic, and our unconventional ways have not deterred you.”

You smiled, nuzzled his cheek with your forehead, and continued cleaning the cut on his face. His cheeks turned bright pink at the sudden and unexpected affection.

“Thanks, Tech,” you quickly smeared some bacta on him and sent him on his way. He just gave you a smile and took his helmet with him.

Next, to your surprise, Crosshair came sauntering in, chewing on his toothpick and watching you straighten out your things.

“Do you need something, Cross?” You used your nurse voice, knowing he was staring holes into your back.

“Yeah, Adi’ka,” he smirked.

You bristled and slowly turned to side-eye him, “What can I help you with?”

“I have a deep cut,” he fiddled with the pick, “I need you to patch it.”

“Okay,” you nodded to the table.

He just walked over and leaned against it. You looked him over, not seeing any visible injury. You were going to open your mouth to ask where the cut was, but he just tapped his thigh.

You sighed… of course, Crosshair, “Take off your pants,” you ordered, thinking you heard Hunter cough from the front of the ship.

Crosshair just raised a brow and smirked, opening his mouth to make a smartass retort, but you crossed your arms and glared at his smug expression. He snorted and bent down to slide his black joggers down, leaving the right leg on. You then instructed him to sit on the table, which he obliged. If you hadn’t been a trained nurse, this might have phased you, but you’ve seen much worse in the field, so you just shoved his injured leg further open, making him look down at you with surprise. He didn’t expect you to be so confident.

He must have tried his best to wrap it in the field, as it had mostly stopped bleeding. Crosshair seemed to make a pretty good medic when on duty.

“Do I want to know?” You asked, grabbing your laser suture and prepping the fresh cartridge.

“Probably not,” he leaned back on his palms, letting you get as close as you needed to. You grabbed a stool and settled in between his long lithe legs. Crosshair watched you with a close eye as you nudged closer to him confidently.

“Do you need a tetanus shot?” You asked, looking up at him. He swallowed before answering, “Most likely.” He returned his gaze to the wall behind you.

You quickly got to work, imagining all of the potential horrible ways he got this nasty cut. He was right; it was deep and ugly.

You put on your safety glasses and grabbed the laser suture. You tested out the machine, priming its little ion core. He looked down at you with a skeptical glare. You just smiled up at him and got to work. Carefully, you stitched him back together.

If he was in pain, he didn’t let on, not even one bit.

“I didn’t get a chance to thank you,” you said, adding another careful binding stitch.

“For what?” He groused as he felt the stinging burn.

“For taking care of me,” you said, tilting your chin forward to get another glance before placing another stitch. “My friend told me about what you did. And in the end, you helped me get to Naboo.”

He didn’t respond. You didn’t expect him too.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t like me,” you added.

He grimaced at the pain, “I’m starting to rethink my stance.” Now you knew he was in pain. His silence was probably him trying to fight off the urge to growl at you.

You just smiled softly, knowing he didn’t mean it. You finished up with the last stitch and grabbed your tub of bacta and an applicator. You smoothed on the soothing gel, and he visibly relaxed. You knew that had to feel good.

Last came the bandage and the shot of medicine and painkiller. He took the repair job like a champ, and you knelt down, helping him slide his sweatpants back up his legs very carefully, holding onto his waistband to avoid the fresh injury.

“Hey guys, General—woah…” Echo stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the two of you.

It was then you realized the situation you were in. You looked back at Echo, whose eyes were glued to your hands. You then looked at Crosshair’s waist, where you were still holding onto the band of his pants, and then up to his flushed face (from the pain, of course). Not to mention, your face was literally mere inches from his crotch as you kneeled on the ground in front of him. You immediately dropped his pants, letting them snap back into his black boxers, and scooted away, leaving Echo to laugh at your embarrassment.

“I thought we handled that problem,” Echo howled, watching you scurry back up to your feet.

“Shut up, vod,” Crosshair slid from the table, pulling up his pants the rest of the way.

“Hey, guys!” Echo turned back towards the cockpit, leaving you, “I think we’re going to have to make a run back to Naboo…”

You were about to run back to your bunk when Crosshair’s arm shot out and caught you by the scruff like a rowdy pup. You lurched back as he swiveled you around to face him, bringing you closer to his face. Your heart was in your ears.

“We’re even, yeah, tooka?” He looked at you, taking the toothpick out of his mouth.

Your mouth instantly dried up, “Mhmm.” You nodded, knowing your cheeks were as red as a Sith’s lightsaber.

He let go of you, pleased. You straightened out your uniform and watched him saunter out of the cabin.

“Sith’s hell,” you muttered, putting all of your things away and stowing the pack on board.

Echo was still laughing when you finally decided to turn in and change into your comfy clothing for the night. Folding your uniform carefully, you grabbed your just-laundered sweats and tank top. You plucked out your favorite pair of fuzzy socks and pulled them on before stepping out into the main cabin.

Tech gave you a tray of steaming rations, and you sat down at the table, happy for another meal. You thanked him and dug in. The boys chatted about the mission, and Wrecker animatedly retold how he masterfully blew up the entire ion cannon. You laughed, listening to their story, finishing up your mashed roots when Tech started giving you the exact specifications of the Separatist base.

It was then you felt eyes on you. Without looking up, you realized Crosshair was watching you with his trained eye. Suddenly feeling a little claustrophobic, you sat up and took a big sip of water.

“How was your day, Y/N?” Tech asked, drinking his blue milk.

“Oh, you know…” You waved your spork around, “Just held off an entire army of Trandoshans all on my own.” You rolled your eyes playfully.

Echo crossed his arms, leaning back, eager to play along, “You didn’t even call for backup?”

You scoffed, “Of course not. Me and Gonky are a superb team.” You laughed, “Plus, me and Mini Firepuncher over here are doing just fine without you boys.” You patted the still-holstered blaster sitting on the shelf next to the dining table. Even Tech laughed at that.

“So when are you going to let Crosshair teach you how to use that thing?” Echo said slyly.

You slowed your chewing and swallowed thickly. Crosshair just looked at you with a bored expression.

“I didn’t think that was on the table,” you said, looking up at him.

“Neither did I,” he raised a brow.

“It’s becoming obvious that you need to sooner or later,” Hunter said, setting down his spork.

“But-but…” You stammered.

“It’s okay, Pip,” Wrecker nudged you, “You’ll probably never need to use it.”

You sighed, “I don’t like it.”

“Didn’t you learn in the training program with the GAR?” Tech asked, “It’s standard for medics.”

“I’m a civilian medic,” you shook your head, “I was in a nursing program at Coruscant University before I was selected to be brought into the clone medic program. The only medics with combat training are clones.”

Tech nodded, noting that down on his datapad.

“You’ve never received any combat training?” Crosshair asked.

“How did none of you know this?” You looked around, “Look at me.” You gestured to your noodle frame.

“I did,” Echo raised his scomp.

“So did I,” Hunter bit into a piece of meat, “I had to read your file when you were transferred.”

“And you still took me?” You laughed.

He chuckled, “Of course. You were beyond qualified with frontline experience. We needed that.”

"You needed someone who can use a laser suture,"

He nodded, "That would be correct."

"Good call, Sergeant." You finished your portions and flung the tray into the kitchen sink.

"Wrecker’s on dish duty," you smiled, standing up from your chair and grabbing the pistol and its holster. Wrecker just groaned, making you giggle evilly.

"Let’s get this over with," you found your combat boots and pulled them on, "C’mon Cross, before I change my mind."

He stood up, putting his tray in the sink and grabbing a cup of caff, "I didn’t agree to this."

You just opened the hatch, feeling the warmth of the sun starting to set in the distance. Crosshair grabbed firepuncher and shoved you out of the way before descending the stairs. You recovered from the stumble and trotted after him with a grin. You knew he’d want to show off.

"I’m not missing this," Echo said, pushing his tray to Wrecker before walking outside.

Crosshair pulled out his vibro blade and stalked over to a nearby tree, carving a massive target on the trunk.

"Alright," he stalked back, throwing the blade and letting it whiz through the air before planting itself in the dirt at Hunter’s feet. The Sergeant groused, stopping in his tracks and crossing his arms.

"First lesson," Crosshair waited for you to hold the pistol, "Check how many charges you have." He showed you how to release the clip to see the modified plasma cartridge.

"It’s at full power, so you should be good." He took the pistol and used his palm to slam the clip back into place, "Next, you flick off the safety. It won't fire unless this is turned to the right." You nodded, listening diligently.

"Then, you hold it firmly with both hands. Hunter was able to knock it out of your grip because you only had one hand. Make sure it’s secure."

You swallowed thickly, mimicking his hands.

"Then you aim and fire. There will be a small kickback, don’t let that scare you." He held up his own pistol and fired at the tree, hitting it spot on. You stood there a little unsure.

"You can do it!" Echo yelled from the ship’s steps.

"I just pull the trigger?" You asked.

"That’s what I said," he crossed his arms.

You took a deep breath, peering down the sight. You held it towards the tree and pulled the trigger with a squeak. The blast flew way to the left of the tree, hitting a nearby rock.

Crosshair just raised a brow, "You can’t aim with your eyes closed."

You looked at him, "It’s scary."

He looked like he was going to throw you into the tree.

"Again."

"Ugh." You tried aiming again. Taking another deep breath, you placed your finger on the trigger and squeezed.

"Wrong tree!" Hunter yelled as he sat next to Echo on the stairs.

"We’re gonna be here for a while," Echo sighed.

"Again," Crosshair commanded.

~~~

The sun was going down and you were getting frustrated. You had squeezed off forty rounds, two hit the tree but not the target, and the others, well, they ended up somewhere.

“Again.” Crosshair was lounging against a tree behind you closing his eyes.

“Can you just help me?” You turned around looking at him desperately.

He opened an eye, “You stunned Hunter I know you can do it.”

“That was close range!” You whined.

Echo and Hunter were busy building a camp fire listening to you growl at the tree. You were about ready to march over there and set the tree on fire.

“She’s cute when she’s mad.” Wrecker said watching you from the Marauder.

Echo and Hunter whipped around to watch you unload onto the unsuspecting forest. The three just bit their tongue and continued on with the fire not wanting to add to your frustration.

“Argh! I’m not good at this!” You waved the gun around, “For kriff sake Crosshair are you taking a nap?”

“I’ve had a long day.” He grumbled crossing his arms across his chest and leaned further into the tree.

“Ugh!” You screamed turning back to the tree and firing again… missing…again.

Your scream made the others laugh. Tech just observed your poor aiming capabilities and typed into his calculator, “She has an approximately 1.3% chance success rate of hitting her desired target.”

“This is getting sad.” Echo warmed up next to the fire.

You spun around slapping the safety on and chucking the gun into Crosshair’s stomach. His eyes flew open wildly before snapping up to you.

“Help! Me!” You growled in all your tiny omega glory.

The sniper stood up dwarfing you in his size. You were too mad to cower. Instead, he stood up and held the blaster up firing three consecutive shots hitting the bullseye, “Here.” He kept the gun in its position and let you squeeze in-front of him to take the weapon. Keeping it exactly where he held it, you peered down the site and pulled the trigger watching the blue plasma blast hit inside the target’s outer ring.

“Oh my god!” You screamed, “Oh my god! I did it! I did it!” You jumped around ignoring the grouchy sniper shaking his head. “I did it!” You celebrated.

“Told you, you could do it!” Echo cheered from the side. He then turned to the others and in a whisper said, “I didn’t think she could do it.”

The others just nodded and sipped their caff.

“Show me again.” You trotted over to Crosshair suddenly feeling excited to hold the weapon.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He rolled his eyes and adjusted your grip. He stood back and grunted. He stepped forwards again using his boot to kick your left foot forwards slightly adjusting your stance. When he was satisfied with your positioning he turned back to the tree letting you take control.

You fired again hitting the inside of the target again. You gasped and fired again watching the blasts hit inside the target. You just looked up at Crosshair with excited eyes. He gave you an approving nod before going back to his reclining tree.

You leaned forwards a bit getting used to the placement.

“Oh she’s doing it!” Tech said a bit surprised.

“She’s hitting the tree!” Wrecker clapped.

“Finally.” Hunter chuckled.

“Guys! I did it!” You looked over at the squad and they cheered you on.

When you were finally out of charges, Crosshair called it a night wanting nothing more than to jump into his bunk and go to sleep.

You however, were giddy. You trotted over to the campfire and plopped down on one of the crates wrecker set up for you all to sit on.

“Tomorrow we're teaching you how to defend yourself.” Hunter handed his cup of hot caff to you.

“Isn’t that what Crosshair just did?” You sipped the brown liquid pulling your legs up into a crisscross.

“We’re going to teach you how to fight.” Wrecker smashed his fist into his palm.

You gulped and looked at them with concern.

“Wait like…punching and stuff?” You curled in slightly.

“Don’t worry we’ll take it easy on you.” Echo chirped.

“But like… Hunter literally wiped the floor with me.” You looked up at him, “I can’t fight. He threw me around like a limp tooka.”

“We’ll show you the basics.” Hunter took his cup back and sipped, “Eventually you’ll have to leave the Marauder one day, I don’t want anything happening to you.”

You sighed, “Yes Sarge.”

He hummed happily continuing to finish his cup.

You just curled up on your crate and snagged a moving blanket letting the fire warm you as the boys talked.

“General Plo should be arriving tomorrow morning.” Hunter let everyone know, “They’ll be securing Kashyyyk base come sun up.”

You just nodded and rested your eyes.

Quickly, without notice, you fell asleep to the sound of your pack and the crackling fire deep within the Kashyyyk forest. Your sleep would have been perfect if it wasn’t for a disturbance under your curled frame.

You groggily opened your eyes to find Hunter leaning over to pick you up, “C’mon you limp tooka let’s at least get you inside.”

You just grumbled too tired to fight your Sergeant as he carried you inside like a sleeping pup. When he set you down in your bunk, you kicked off your boots and rolled into the blankets not caring about anything besides being face down in your plush pillow.

“Goodnight Adi’ka.” Hunter whispered turning to leave.

“Night Sarge.” You whispered back knowing he could hear you.

He turned off the light and shut the door behind him to go back to talking with the boys.

Sleep quickly came for you drifting you off into some much needed rest.

~~~

You really wished you had just stayed in bed this morning.

Instead, you were now standing out in the sprinkling rain listening to the way Hunter was trying to explain close combat.

Your exercise clothes were getting chilled from the misty forest air and you were close to shivering.

“So I’m supposed to hit Tech?” You asked not liking the sound of this one bit.

Crosshair leaned back on one of the crates legs spread like last night watching you with a smirk. He didn’t have much faith in you, you knew that for certain. Crosshair was more on the team of just letting himself and the others step in if you needed help but Hunter and the others were determined to teach you something.

Tech stood before you in his civvies and his goggles looking calm as always.

“It’s okay Y/N. Just do what Hunter showed you.” Tech encouraged taking a slight stance.

You just whimpered not liking the idea of hurting anyone, especially your pack.

“It’s hard. I’m fighting instincts.” You sighed putting your fists up like Echo said.

Crosshair groaned knowing this was stupid trying to teach an omega to get violent. He knew they only get violent when their pups are in danger. It’s literally against her nature.

“C’mon Pip you can do it!” Wrecker tried to nudge you.

You just whimpered and stepped forwards throwing a punch at Tech’s shoulder. He swiftly dodged you and pushed you past him. You stumbled over a pile of moss nearly loosing your footing.

“That was… something.” Echo rubbed his forehead.

You shook your head and looked at Tech, “You won’t hurt me Y/N, try again.” He cooed.

You took a deep breath and tried again. This time he flung you around into Wrecker who caught you and spun you around.

You reared back and launched another punch, this time he grabbed your wrist and rolled you mid air landing you on your back with a thud. You coughed feeling the air press from your lungs.

“Maker Tech!” Hunter ran over to you kneeling down to help you up, “Gentle vod!”

“Apologies.” Tech replied scratching his head.

“It’s okay.” You brushed the moss off of your pants.

“You’re asking her to do something against her biology.” Crosshair growled. You nodded and agreed with the sniper.

“I think I’m probably better with learning how to shoot.” You shivered in the cold, “I couldn’t over power an alpha even if I wanted to. You’ll just be tossing me around until someone calls it quits.”

Echo sighed and stood up walking over to you grabbing you by the shoulder looking deep into your eyes, “Remember that one time on Ryloth when that pup clung to you begging for help? And you took him under your protection when the separatists stormed that village? He was separated from his pack and so were you. We couldn’t get to you in time and you destroyed the droids with nothing but a loose pipe?”

You looked up at Echo swallowing again.

“And what did that pup call you?” Echo raised a brow.

“Ryma.” You whispered suddenly getting emotional.

Echo nodded, “Ryma.”

“Ryma?” Wrecker asked.

“Mother.” Tech translated.

Mother. Something in you switched at the memory. You looked at Echo who seemed to notice the change, “Now, remember how you felt protecting that little helpless pup and all those horrible droids trying to take him from you.” He backed up letting Tech step forwards again. This time when you struck, you clocked Tech in the chin. His head snapped back surprised you managed to hit him. You stared at your own fist in shock and then immediate panic.

“Oh my god Tech!” You rushed forwards trying to console the Alpha.

Hunter just laughed, “That did it.”

“That was good Pip. Do it again.” Echo encouraged.

Crosshair raised a brow a little impressed Echo was smart enough to tug on your emotions like that.

The next few minutes you actually were able to do what Hunter had showed you. You sparred lightly with Tech getting used to the basics of kicks and punches. Hunter also taught you how to protect yourself and keep the sides of your head protected while Tech made a few practice strikes.

You were just starting to get the hang of it when you heard a deep rumbling come from the forest. You all paused your sparring lessons to watch two massive venators appear from hyperspace above your heads. Within seconds, drop ships deployed heading straight for your little encampment.

“They’re here.” Wrecker watched the ships near the clearing to their left.

You stood there watching as General Plo Koon’s orange head popped out of the attack ship followed by the telltale grey plastoid of Commander Wolffe’s entire garrison.

Your stomach flipped when you felt Echo’s mischievous eyes met yours. You looked at him as his lips turned into a smirk. Oh no.

You felt the heat creeping up your neck to your cheeks and you quickly excused yourself and trotted back inside the Marauder before anyone else noticed.

“Hey Sergeant!”

“Kriff.” You whispered hiding behind the wall of the ship listening to the 104th make their way through the open field towards your unit.

“Hi Commander.” You heard Hunter great the man you were dying to avoid.

While you were focus in on what they were saying, you missed Echo sneaking up on you finding you pressed up against the door panel spying.

“Nuh uh.” He chuckled grabbing both of your shoulders and steering you out of the ship.

“You’re evil.” You whisper letting him guide you back outside.

“We need gossip material.” He shoved you forwards into Hunter’s side. You came skittering to a halt and stared daggers at Echo who just meandered into the crowd greeting his friends.

“And what do we have here.” Wolffe took off his helmet letting it sit on his hip while he looked you up and down. You felt the lump in your throat as the alpha shamelessly eyed you, you suddenly felt exposed in your training gear, “The little omega from 79’s.” He tutted.

If you hadn’t known Hunter the way you do, you wouldn’t have noticed, but that wasn’t the case. You noticed the small muscles in Hunter’s arm flex like he was rearing for a fight. Clearly he didn’t like Wolffe’s behavior in the slightest but his face remained neutral.

“What are you doing all the way out here Crya’ika.” He purred

“Hi Commander Wolffe.” You forced your nurse voice to the forefront. “Sergeant Hunter had quite the assignment, and being their medic, I’m here to make sure they don’t get banged up too badly.” You smiled looking up at your Sergeant for approval.

“You doing a good job?” He asked with a quirked brow.

You nodded, “I try my best.”

“I’m sure you do.” He smiled before turning back towards his men. They began setting up camp leaving you and your boys standing in the light rain watching as more and more attack ships flew overhead no doubt heading towards the blast zone.

You let out a breath you had been holding and allowed Hunter to escort you back to the ship.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.” Hunter mumbled as you approached the steps to the Marauder.

“He’s an overconfident alpha.” You reassured, “I don’t think he’d ever try anything.”

Hunter let you walk first into the Marauder, “He tried to pick you up back on Coruscant.” He pointed out.

“And I didn’t go through with it…” You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, but does he know that?” Hunter snapped.

You jerked back looking at him, “Hunter, I’m not going to rut with him can you please drop it. I’ve already live through one incident I’m determined not to have another.”

He deflated his shoulders, “Sorry pip. I didn’t mean that. I just don’t like when someone messes with my pack.”

Your eyes widened.

His eyes suddenly mirrored yours realizing what he has said and he stuttered, “I- uh.” He scratched his head, “Sorry I-“

“I’m pack?” You grinned ear to ear.

He looked at you seeing how happy it made you, he was thrilled at the smile you were giving him.

“Yeah pip. You’re pack.” He admitted.

You squealed and jumped on him giving him a big hug. You knew how much of a big deal this was. The 501st immediately adopted you without any hesitation, but you knew how close this unit was. You were beyond the moons hearing that the pack leader had adopted you too. He softly hugged you back. This had been the longest six months ever.

“Do I still have to go to training tomorrow?” You asked mumbling into his armor.

“Yup.” He replied.

“Dammit.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Bruh, I'm scared for this episode not going to lie....

Taglist: @substantial-exposure @rains-on-kamino @minimissmoo

#abo #badbatch #omega #alpha #smut #hunter #wrecker #crosshair #tech #echo #anakin #star wars #wolffe #clonewars #clones

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ofsappho · 1 year

Text

Heartless, Chapter 7

🔞 Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience, SMUT

Ghost hasn't touched you in a while, so you ask him to teach you how to shoot. Tags under the read more.

Smut tags: EXTENSIVE SAFE HANDLING/USAGE OF GUNS AT A SHOOTING RANGE, description of guns and gun safety, gun kink, exhibitionism, more degradation, more praise, love for titties, semi-public sex, s/m, biting, possessive Ghost. Brought to you by my deep love and affection for the OG Ghost skin.

Ghost hasn’t touched you since your flare-up. Not literally. He’s been… stupidly nice, his hand never leaves the small of your back when you walk together, and sometimes, he even pushes doors open for you.

But things haven’t gone past kissing, which you do a lot of nowadays, more than before. He’s constantly kissing you, soft brushes of lips on your forehead, gentle bites at the pulse in your neck; if he’s feeling frisky, he’ll tangle his tongue with yours.

That’s it.

He withdraws if you try to pull his shirt up or take your pants off. And it’s driving you fucking crazy.

It’s not all bad. Ghost changes his mask in front of you now instead of ducking into the bathroom, and he leaves the door open when he brushes his teeth.

You catch glimpses of his face, jaw, and eyebrows like wisps of fog. They'll slip out of your grasp if you hold on too tight or demand too much. He’s turned you into a Victorian gentleman, at his feet for the smallest bit of bare skin.

But what you want almost more than to see Ghost’s face again is for him to fuck you. It’s been weeks. Literal weeks.

You’ve tried prancing around your apartment in nothing but your skimpiest lingerie, lace and tulle and embroidered silk.

You drop things in front of him and bend down to retrieve them. You draw your kisses out as long as possible, as indulgent and possessive as possible.

Go, Ghost. Give us nothing.

You thought that maybe he wasn’t attracted to you anymore. That he saw you in pain and need, and that killed any desire he had, like some weird Madonna-Whore complex.

But one day, while rolling on a pair of delicate thigh highs, you felt eyes heavy on your skin.

You looked up to find him standing at the sink, watching your reflection in the mirror, his gaze feverish, like that little slip of elastic cinching into your plush thigh was about to make him crawl.

That made you realize that your stupid husband is only treating you like glass because he doesn’t know any better, out of some deeply misguided sense of chivalry.

Today, you have a plan. A really, really good plan. One he can’t wriggle out of so effortlessly.

He looks more handsome than he has any right to look in his camo pants and dinky wraparound combat sunglasses, and when he crosses his arms, your mouth goes dry at the sight of his broad, muscular back in that gray jacket.

You’re determined to get him.

“Ghost, I have a question. Well, it’s more like a favor,” You ask as you dab on some lipstick, mouth open in a perfect ‘o.’

He’s on his way out, but Ghost stops and turns in his tracks just for you. “Hm?”

In the mirror, you see him adjust his sunglasses, and your instincts tell you he’s either looking at your lips or your ass in your miniskirt. Or both.

You tamp down on the smile tugging at your mouth before he grows suspicious. “Do you think you could… teach me how to shoot? If you have time today. I never learned how, and I trust you,” You add in a soft, fragile voice.

Then you bend over the sink just a touch more and arch your back. As you calculated, Ghost is too taken in by your tantalizingly short hem to notice how off your voice sounds.

He clears his throat, light reflecting off his glasses as he shakes his head. “Yeah. Alright. Let’s go,” He says flatly.

You keep some distance as you walk past him into the hallway. You know, just to keep Ghost on his toes.

“Awesome! Oh my god, thank you. I’m so excited,” You tell him as you rest your arm in his, intentionally pulling tighter so your tits in this push-up bra brush his bicep.

Ghost doesn’t pull away, but he does stiffen as he walks you through the base. “Better cool it. Don’t get frisky ‘round loaded firearms,” He cautions.

Damnit, he won’t even look at you. And you know you’re very pretty right now - this is his favorite shade of lipstick on you, and you’re wearing more mascara than a waitress at Hooters.

Ugh. “Yes. Yes, of course. I’ll be good, I promise.” You won’t give up so easily.

He stops in front of a soldier manning a counter cut into what looks like a big ol’ wire cage. Past the cage, you see a massive metal wall with locked shelves.

The private salutes your husband as soon as he sees him. “Lt. Riley. How can I help you?” He asks, clearly used to Ghost’s presence. The man’s eyes flicker towards you curiously, but Ghost leans forward and quietly raps his knuckles on the cage.

The private looks away with a blank, bloodless face.

Ghost nods approvingly. “Checkin’ out a Glock 17. And some ammo,” He says, handing his DODID over so the other man can type his information into the computer.

After Ghost gets his card back, the man stands and unlocks one of the shelves by punching in a code. “How many rounds?” The private asks as he sets out a black hard plastic case.

“30.”

Three unmarked white boxes join the case. “There you go, sir.” Another salute, this one sharper and more respectful, then Ghost signals for you to go ahead of him.

You follow the signs towards the shooting range with your Uniformed Services ID card displayed prominently between your fingers. Both your husband and Soap have drummed the importance of this card into your head, and you hesitate to even walk around without holding it somewhere visible.

Ghost joins you after a minute to swipe his ID at the shooting range, effortlessly carrying the case and the ammo with one strong arm.

You see someone take off their ear protection. As the man turns, you recognize his profile.

“Sergeant Garrick,” Ghost calls out. To a stranger, he would seem just as cold and withdrawn as he was checking out his pistol.

You know better. His shoulders grow less tense, his stride easier, and his head dips in greeting.

When Gaz reaches out a fist, Ghost taps it with the back of his knuckles. “Lieutenant. Surprised to see you’ve let her out. You doin’ alright, sweetheart?” The sergeant asks, clearly having been apprised of your health.

“Thanks, Gaz. I’m feeling a lot better. Ghost has been a gentleman,” You assure him with a smile. This most recent flare was horrid but mercifully short. You were only out of commission for a few days.

And he was, in fact, nothing short of a gentleman the whole time. You doubt Ghost left your side for one second unless necessary, even when you were asleep and wouldn’t have known.

Your husband appraises you from the corner of his eye for a second. “Clear out,” He says as he interrupts Gaz’s follow-up inquiry into whether you need anything.

“Why? Are you… oh.” His gaze falls to the Glock-branded case in Ghost’s hand. “Are you teaching her how to shoot?”

“I asked him to.”

Gaz chuckles. “Good luck, mate. I’ll keep the others away for a few hours,” He says before sending a two-fingered salute your way.

You wait until the sergeant is through the doors to speak. “Why do you shoot alone?” You’re not complaining; it looks like Lady Luck is smiling down on you.

“Don’ like people gawking at me.” Ghost picks a lane off the side where he can conveniently see the exit, then sets the case flat on the little side table.

The target he picks is the standard white paper with a vaguely humanoid shape colored in black. White numbered concentric circles mark the points you can pick up, depending on where you hit.

The dead center of the target’s chest is worth 10 points.

Ghost opens the case with a soft click. The pistol he chose for you is just like the guns you see in the movies and on TV, a straightforward, standard handgun in a dark gunmetal gray.

It looks gorgeous in his large gloved hands, like he was always meant to carry one. He holds it as an extension of his body, and you decide to ask him later to show you the other firearms in his collection. He must have a rifle or some shit, something he uses to sweep through his enemies like a reaper’s scythe.

That sounds so hot.

Ghost first sets out the empty magazines, then removes the pistol from its case. “Basic gun safety. Treat every gun like a loaded weapon, even if you know it’s not.”

“Always keep it pointed away from you or anyone else.”

On the left-hand side of the gun, he shows you a tiny rectangle just below the trigger. “This button releases the magazine. Then you slide it back in, usually loaded,” Ghost tells you as he demonstrates it, slotting the empty magazine into the base until it clicks, then popping it out.

You step closer, ostensibly, so you can scrutinize the demonstration better. “What about, um, a safety? Is that what that’s called?” You ask as you lean in and tuck your hair over your ear, drawing Ghost’s attention momentarily to the long line of your bare throat.

He nods. “Yes. That’s what that’s called. This pistol don’t got one, so you need to be careful the whole time. Alright, doll?” His hands never leave the gun, not even for a second, and he aims it very, very, deliberately away from you.

But you feel Ghost bump his hip against yours before opening his posture, allowing you to nestle yourself near his chest.

“Mmhm,” You acknowledge.

His sunglasses make it impossible for you to see where he’s looking. A gleam of the harsh overhead LED lights on the dark lenses catches your attention; Ghost’s gaze is fixed on the pistol now, where it wasn’t a minute earlier.

With one finger, Ghost releases a tiny lever towards the top of the gun, then rests his hand on the back of the barrel. “This is the slide. Pull that back; that’s the chamber.” He holds it up so you can see the empty space that goes down all the way to the bottom of the gun, a space that the magazine would typically fill. “That’s where the… where the round goes before you pull the trigger.”

He pauses. “You do know what a trigger is, right?”

“Sleep with one eye fucking open tonight,” You threaten as you try to step on his toes. He’s wearing his steel-toed boots, so you get about as far as awkwardly balancing on his shoes.

Ghost sets the gun down on the table, then wraps his free hand around your jaw, forcing your mouth open with his fingers pressing into your cheeks. “Hey. What’d I say? Firearms. Live ammo. Shut it,” He cautions, his voice low and gravelly.

Oh. So you are getting somewhere.

You let your tongue loll out, a small teasing flash of pink flesh glistening with saliva. Ghost grunts as he snatches his hand back like you might bite it.

He touches the small of your back, making it clear that he won’t indulge your foolishness any further. “First thing. Always. Make the gun safe, make sure it’s unloaded. Pop the magazine out. Pull back the slide so there ain’t a round in the chamber. Keep the slide open.”

You’re trying to concentrate. Really, you are. His hands' hypnotic, smooth motions as he handles the pistol are… distracting.

He’s still cautious and as safe as can be, but the confidence- You’d almost guess Ghost is trying to show off, and it works because he is just that good.

He has to clear his throat a few times before you look up at his face, hidden behind the balaclava and the glasses. “Repeat the important shit back to me,” Ghost orders with a smirk you can hear through the cloth.

You make yourself the very picture of obedience and mindfulness, hands tucked behind your back to show your seriousness.

“Treat every gun like it’s loaded. Don’t point it at anyone. Make it safe, magazine out, slide back, keep the slide open,” You say. Coincidentally, your tits get pushed forward when you position yourself like this.

“Good girl.” Ghost looks back at the gun like a priest averting his eyes for fear of sinful thoughts. One step forward, three steps back.

Now, he gestures to the black metal magazine. “It holds ten rounds, so you get ten shots before you have to reload,” He informs you as he taps one of the ammo boxes.

It would be overkill if you started twirling your hair, so you settle for tilting your head and making your eyes all round and fluttery. “Do I have to, like, make it… um, make it stick the bullet in the chamber myself?”

His stupid little chuckle tells you that your performance is believable. “Semi-automatic. You fire one bullet when you pull the trigger, but it reloads automatically,” Ghost says indulgently.

“Okay, got it.” You smile back at him.

“Go on an’ assemble it, just like I showed ya.”

Right. Right.

You try to recall the order he laid out for you.

The pistol feels menacing in your hands, even though you know it’s currently as safe as any gun can possibly be. You almost drop the magazine a few times; the metal is slippier than anticipated.

“Magazine, in. Slide… cocked. Heh. Ready to fire, minus the bullets.” You hold it with pride but carefully point it down range.

Ghost touches your back again, and this time, he lets his hand linger. “Ah, we’ll make a soldier out of you yet,” He whispers into your ear.

“Disassemble it.”

“Boom,” You say as you lay the pistol down.

Instead of moving you to the side, Ghost crowds forward to reach around your arms.

“Attagirl.”

Like this, he could rest his chin on your head if he wanted to.

His broad chest is so warm, and you feel his harness snag on your shirt as he grabs one of the empty magazines. “‘M gonna load this magazine for you. You focus on firin’,” Ghost tells you, his voice a rumbling, soothing comfort on your nerves.

He slots ten rounds into the magazine, which cleans out one of the three boxes.

Then he tips your chin towards him, his glove rough and chafing on your sensitive skin.

“Doll. Hey. Listen to me. Once this magazine goes in, this pistol is loaded and dangerous. Dangerous. I don’t want you getting yourself shot, so for the love of God, pay attention to where you’re pointing the fuckin’ thing.”

You look into his sunglasses, as black as night, and you know that the minute you fuck around too much, Ghost will bodily remove you from the scene for your own good.

“I will pay attention.”

You wish you could see his face. He’d never agree, especially not in public, so you know better than to ask. But…

Even the sight of his deep, rich brown eyes would be enough. You go back and forth with yourself for a few seconds; he might be willing to take the glasses off, but if he wanted to show his eyes, he wouldn’t have put them on in the first place.

After a minute, Ghost releases your chin. “Assemble it. I’ll be right here,” He encourages, dropping his hands to your waist.

When loaded, the magazine is much heavier, and you take great precautions to avoid dropping it.

Click. You feel the gun's weight in your hand and understand why he’s so cautious about something so small. It can do some hefty damage.

Ghost held this like it weighed nothing at all.

The slide is satisfyingly loud when it slams into place. “There you go,” You say, hands trembling just a little as you hold the pistol up for his inspection.

He takes it from you before you can put your fingers in the wrong place or, God forbid, accidentally discharge it, and you exhale softly with relief.

Now, Ghost steps up to the firing lane. “Make sure you have a comfortable grip. None of the gymnastics and shit you see on the telly. Fire with both hands on the gun. Both. Shoulders and feet square,” He tells you, limbs moving in time with his words so you have something to emulate.

You watch him straighten his spine; his head tilts a little, and his breathing slows. “Line up your sights. Squeeze the trigger.”

His shot rips a neat hole in the target’s chest. Ten points to Ghost.

“Gonna recoil. Every gun does. Let it happen, don’t tense up. You’ll make things worse.”

Finally, he lowers the pistol.

“Ready to try?”

“Yeah, I’m ready.” You’re not that ready. Ghost is watching you like a fucking hawk, and your palms grow slick with sweat.

God, what if you do it wrong? What if he thinks you don’t know shit?

Ghost doesn’t say anything. Instead, he grabs a set of ear muffs you didn’t realize he’d slung around his neck and hands them to you.

You slip them on, tighten the headband so they fit you, then wipe your hands off on your skirt.

When he passes you the pistol, he never aims it away from the target.

‘Shoulders and feet square’ is a harder direction to follow than it sounds. You know you must always look where your firearm is aimed, but then how do you check if your feet are square?

You shuffle around for a moment, and you think it’s fine if you just lower your arms for a second-

Ghost sighs. “No, don’t- don’t hold it like that. Fuckin’- here,” He grumbles as he uses his boots to nudge your feet into the right position.

Then he gets behind you again with his large hands braced under your elbows. “That’s your stance.”

You inhale. “I’m scared.” Your exhale comes out shaky and fucked-up, but thankfully, your grip doesn’t falter.

“…Mm. I’m right here,” Ghost reassures you, pressing you protectively to his chest.

Some of your nerves ebb away, and you try to imitate his example. Straight back, confident aim.

“See? You can do it, love.”

“Thank you. Okay. Sights aligned…” Then you pull the trigger.

You get, like, maybe one point at most. Your guy has a hole in an area that a satirical British comedy troupe might generously call a ‘flesh wound.’ The target will need stitches in its’ left hand.

“Nice aim. You really killed him dead.”

“Shut up.”

Ghost takes the gun back. “Here.” That was rude of him. Did nobody teach him how to share and ask politely?

He fires. Then fires again. “Dead on.” Two perfect headshots. “Don’t worry, don’t expect you to pick it up so quickly,” Ghost says as if he isn’t fucking preening. He’s probably even gleeful under the shit covering his face. Not like you would know, you grouch to yourself.

Ghost presses the pistol into your hands. “Give it another few tries.”

You clear your throat, determined to do a little better this time.

You get your sights lined up, everything’s good, and you feel good about this one. “Eep.” Except the gun kicks back, taking you by surprise, so you try to make it stop moving, and your shot hits the target’s ankle.

Ghost’s laugh would be more attractive if it weren’t at your expense. “Recoil. Told ya. Loosen up,” He chuckles, briefly tapping the top of your head with his mask-covered chin.

“It’s harder than it looks.” Your complaint falls on deaf ears; he simply indicates that you do, in fact, have to keep practicing with him.

Just when you go to take your next shot, Ghost rests his hands on your hips and steps close enough that you can feel his pants, almost scaring you out of your skin.

“Babe, you’re literally being so rude right now.”

“You’re cute when you’re frustrated.” Please, how is he making this your fault?

You stick this bullet in the target’s other ankle.

“Take it easy. We got plenty more ammo. You can’t be good at everything.”

Actually, yes, you can.

Enough with the fucking reindeer games.

This time, you bring your heel down on his boot hard enough that he steps back in surprise before you tear the ear protection off with one hand.

“Fuck you,” You snap before returning to the target.

You’ve done this, like, a million times; your dad taught you to shoot when you were ten.

You rest the butt of the Glock on your left palm, your right pointer finger naturally curls on the trigger.

You slide your right foot back a little and get more comfortable. His instructions are too rigid for your taste.

You incline your head, your brow furrows in concentration, and-

Four perfect shots. The slide sticks open after the last one because you’ve finished the magazine, just as you knew you would.

Two in the ten-point ring in the target’s chest, joining Ghost’s first shot.

One next to his headshot.

The last bullet hits the target’s groin for good measure.

You pop the empty magazine out without missing a beat, tuck it into the case, and then present the unloaded gun with a slow, theatrical turn.

Since he’s too busy standing there, with a distortion in the painted-on skull mask as the only clue his mouth is open with shock, you press the gun into the case yourself.

Mindful of his repeated emphasis on safety and your lived experience of shooting empty beer bottles in an abandoned quarry as a teenager, you go so far as to lock it on his behalf.

That clicking sound spurs him into action.

You find yourself more or less shoved against the wall, head tilted back and breathless as Ghost towers over you, taking full advantage of how… inhuman he seems.

“Goddamn. Looks like you didn’t need me to teach you after all. You conniving little bitch,” He growls, impressed against his will.

He runs a gloved finger along the line of your jaw, you bite your lower lip, and Ghost shoves his knee between your legs so you can’t dance away even if you want to.

At least he’s able to appreciate your effort now. “Nope. I just wanted your attention.” You’re shameless, grinning like you won a blue ribbon at the county fair, and when he cups your warm cheek, your bright gaze engraves your victory on his mask with the precision of a knife.

His long-suffering exhale is not a sound of release - it’s a provocation, a warning shot.

Then Ghost wraps a piece of your hair between his fingers; its fragility is the only thing keeping his restraint intact. “I know. You’ve been begging for my attention for some time, haven’t you?”

You were right. He was not cosplaying a monk. You’re always right.

When your lips twist into a pout, Ghost straight-up snarls. “What? Thought I didn’t notice?” He taunts, lowering his face closer to yours.

He releases your hair to slip his hand under the hem of your shirt, resting his coarse glove against your soft, curved belly.

“Those sexy fuckin’ panties, this short skirt. The goddamn… garter belt with the little stockings?” Ghost’s breathing deepens, the pace of it picks up, and his fingers dig into your skin. He’s riled up and angry that you’ve done that to him, and those two emotions feed off each other like wildfires and gasoline.

You can see it in his powerful, well-built frame, and any second now, he’ll take the tension out on you.

He smells like gunpowder. He smells like petrichor, that intoxicating, electric zing that hangs in the air before a storm.

His hand slides around your waist to push your body towards him, forcing you on your toes. “Acting like a horny, needy slag.” Ghost spits out each word with venom so he can almost lovingly watch your pupils dilate and lips open in a silent moan.

“Well, doll, congratulations. You’ve got my attention.”

When you slide your arms around his neck, he doesn’t stop you. “What was I supposed to do? You were ignoring me,” You whine. Your voice is a breathless, fluttery thing, your head won’t stop spinning, and your bra chafes your sensitive, hardening nipples.

You can’t decide if you want to drop to your knees in worship or tear him out of his jacket.

He removes his hand from your body to rest his forehead on his palm. “Use your words, maybe? Not luring me out to the firing range so you can grind that pretty arse against me.”

“But that would be less fun,” You point out. You know, to be helpful. It seems like you have to do all the work around here.

“There’s something wrong with you.”

“You like it, though.”

That’s his final straw. Ghost closes his fingers around your throat, tight enough to choke, as he drags your skirt around your waist.

As far as you can tell, his gaze is still fixed on you, on the flush crawling up your cleavage. “Anyone could walk in right now and-“ His fingers inch up your thigh, slow, so slow that you start shifting around, so he hurries the fuck up.

Ghost kicks your feet wider for better access. “And see you like this. Spread open for me…” Then his hand brushes over the roundness of your bare hip. Completely bare. “Fuck. You’re-“ He cuts himself off with a groan.

“Not wearing underwear, yeah.” It would just get in the way if things worked out as planned. And look - they did.

Now that your cunt is bared to his concealed gaze, your hips tilt away, trying to hide your arousal.

Ghost doesn’t like that. He pins your hips to the wall with one firm hand. “God, you’re dripping,” He murmurs, his voice filled with awe.

When he holds his other hand up to your lips, you keep your eyes fixed on his mask as you pull his glove off with your teeth.

The glove falls from your mouth when he takes his fingers and slots them between your folds. Not quite pressing in, just teasing your sensitive flesh, fucking playing with the slick coating your skin. He brushes your engorged clit, then moves on before you feel anything beyond the tiniest jolt.

You bite back a wail when the hand on your hip tightens, pressing hard enough to bruise.

“Is that what you want? You want them all to see you getting fucked, to see me using you like a fuckin’ toy?” Ghost punctuates that by dragging his mask down to suck his scarred fingers clean of your arousal, and you see his lips shine and-

Then he bends down to kiss you, savagely, brutally, all teeth and the salt taste of you coating his mouth like expensive wine. When Ghost pulls back, a string of saliva stretches between your mouths.

His fingers touch your temple softly.

What is he seeing? What does he think when he watches you blush like a schoolgirl? Is he pleased?

Without Ghost’s eyes, you feel small and utterly helpless in the face of his glasses' curved, almost alien gaze.

You tilt your head back as you catch your breath. “Well, that can only happen if you fuck me.” You’ve won. You’ve fucking won.

“If there’s even a single drop of your mess on my boots, I’ll make you lick them clean,” Ghost threatens as he kisses your forehead. The innocence in the gesture is as menacing as the bare hand he fists into your hair.

He’s playing with his food.

“Kinky.”

Ghost wraps more of your hair around his fingers. “You know what you’re askin’ for ain’t gonna be nice? No takin’ it easy,” He warns you, shaking your head back and forth ever so slightly with his better grip.

“You just watched me empty the clip into that poor piece of paper, and you think I want easy? Or nice?” You laugh, even as he tugs harder, and your eyes roll back.

You get your answer when Ghost exposes your neck and sucks a dark, possessive bruise over your pulse.

Now that he doesn’t have to worry about keeping the mask up, he’s relentless. Starved. His mouth wanders across your skin, sucking and licking and biting, it hurts like cigarette burns, and you whine, fight, push for more.

His tongue traces your collarbone, his teeth bite another bruise into the crook of your neck.

You’re so covered in sweat and spit that it takes him a few tries to draw more of your skin into his mouth.

That’s Ghost’s cue to shove the neckline of your shirt down, exposing your heaving tits still encased by your lacy bra.

He doesn’t move for a couple of seconds. Not only to take in the view, and you know he’s enjoying it, but because there’s something…

Debauched and profane about your poor skirt tugged up and your shirt sliding off your arms, and you’re trying to get him to take the rest of your clothes off, “Ghost, I’m begging you-“

Fresh arousal trickles from your core, then down the insides of your thighs. It’s like there are live wires under your skin, burning you from the inside out, and you can’t think, or stand up straight, or reason.

He puts you out of your desperate, horny misery by pulling your bra straps down your shoulders, freeing your breasts from their underwire prison.

You watch him discard his sunglasses over his shoulder without giving a shit if they break. He’s too busy bending down to take one nipple between his teeth to care.

Ghost fucking moans into your skin, his other hand paws at your hips, your ass; he just can’t touch enough of you at once.

“Fuck, I need to feel you,” He gasps when he lifts his head long enough to breathe. Your nipple feels sore even at the slightest brush of air, sensitive from his kisses and tongue lathing over and over the aroused bud until your skin is dark red and glossy with saliva.

You’ve banged your head against the wall at least twice at this point, too overcome with pleasure and heat and white-hot pain to notice. “Oh my fucking god-“ You keen as he slips his hand between your legs once more, only to find your aching cunt so wet that you’re dripping down to your calf.

He slides two thick fingers into you, and the stretch doesn’t pinch in the slightest. As soon as he starts moving his fingers and working his thumb furiously on your clit, you’re screaming and sobbing into the empty firing range.

It’s quick and fast and brutal, he switches to your neglected nipple, and your cunt seizes around his fingers when he bites down. “Gorgeous fuckin’ tits,” He growls, the sound vibrating through your overstimulated skin.

Your hands scrabble on his shoulders for stability because your legs will give out any second now. You can’t focus on anything because his mouth leaves red marks along the curve of your sensitive breast, and it feels too fucking good.

You don’t know what the fuck he’s doing to your tits but you feel each lick and nip deep in your pussy, just as good as when his fingers deftly find your g-spot.

He stills for a moment, causing you to whine and smack his shoulders to get him where you want him, curses and insults tumbling from your lips.

Ghost bares his large, frightening teeth until your tantrum fades and your hips move of their own accord.

You chase the high, eyes screwed shut and your nails carving a bloody furrow into the back of his neck. “Yeah, that’s it. Good girl. Fuck my hand,” He rasps, curling his fingers so you can wring the most pleasure out of him.

Then he kisses your exposed hip, forcefully driving his fingers into you again when your thighs tremble and your muscles shudder. “Shit, fuckfuckfuck, Ghost, a- aah-“ You chant, mouth open because you can’t get enough air, and everything tastes like salt and musk, and you feel something painfully hot pulse within you.

His other hand grabs your breast to grind his gloved fingers into your already-bruised and reddened flesh, dozens of broken capillaries sprinkled between his love bites.

Fuck. Fuck. Ghost releases you, then swats lightly at your nipples. “Think you can come like this? Right now?” He orders, bringing his hand down again on one breast, then the other.

It burns, he strikes the hickies, and he’s not even slapping your tits that hard, but the pain blossoms like lightning down your spine, and-

He circles your clit one more time, and you’re fucking gone. “Ghost!” You gasp as you come, shaking like a leaf. Your back arches, you’re wailing and twitching around his merciless fingers, each wave more devastating than the last.

It reduces you to a handful of primal nervous impulses in his grasp. Every fucking time your sensitive, helpless cunt sucks him in deeper, you cry out. He has to abandon tormenting your nipples to hold you up, one arm clutched tight around your jerking hips.

Ghost kisses your sweaty forehead, then fucks his fingers into you one more time to milk the dying throes of your orgasm. “Attagirl,” He whispers into your hair, then smiles at your final, exhausted whimper.

Once you’re back in your body and not floating on cloud nine, you reach for his bared face and trace the edges of his eye black. To your surprise, Ghost permits the exploration. You don’t mess it up too much, cognizant of his effort, but it’s fascinating that he’d let you.

His eyes are mostly black, all blown-out pupils and want. He stands, then interrupts your wandering fingers with a deep, drawn-out kiss, no teeth because your mouth is already bruised. You feel him sigh, the tiniest hint of a moan, when your tongue traces his bottom lip.

“Think they heard you all the way in Manchester?” Ghost jokes as he moves away.

He refuses to let go of your ass even once you find your balance. “If you wanted me to be quiet, all you had to do was-“ You tell him, drawing out your words for his inevitable protest.

His cocky smirk is so profoundly, unfairly attractive - you never stood a chance. “I like knowing you’re enjoyin’ yourself.” You tug him back towards your lips with hands curled in his jacket hood so you can kiss him breathless.

His remaining glove rustles as he takes it off. “Are… are you okay?” Ghost asks, cupping your face with both large hands.

There’s concern written all over his face, and when you notice his gaze flick down to your midsection, checking if your posture shows any sign of pain, your heart twists violently in your chest.

Briefly, you consider making some snarky remark, turning his worry into teasing. But his worried brown eyes find yours, and you can’t bring yourself to be so mean. “I’m fine,” You reassure.

Ghost searches your face for a minute before finally nodding.

“And if you ask me that again, I’m going to bite you, and not in a fun way.”

The little bashful upturn of his mouth sends another horrible wrench through you. “Sorry.” You don’t like it when Ghost apologizes to you like that, like he’s afraid being near you is too much.

It’s not.

You’re not sure how to tell him this, so you lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his cheek and hope he gets it.

He relishes in that simple, affectionate kiss, you can tell by his fingers curling tighter into your hips. Perhaps you’ll do that more often, then.

Ghost tucks some loose hair behind your ear. “I wanted to do it right. Do right by you.”

You know what he means. Hearing it from his mouth completely reframes the past couple of weeks. Instead of fixating on how his hands would brush your hands away, you remember the cups of hot tea he brought you regularly and how Ghost would never let you get out of bed without help.

He waits pensively for your response, like what you say next could break him. “I thought that maybe you didn’t like me anymore,” You confess in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

Ghost’s gaze turns from vulnerable to fierce faster than pulling a trigger. He doesn’t even need the mask; a cold, dark shadow falls over his scarred, beautiful face. This is not a man touching you. This is a demon grabbing your waist and pulling you towards him.

“Didn’t like-“ He can’t even repeat what you said without shaking his head in disbelief.

Ghost leans down to get level with your face. “Remember what happened the last time you said dumb shit? ‘M not afraid to turn your ass blue and black if you keep this up.” You jerk forward with a moan when he smacks one butt cheek as a reminder, just hard enough to sting.

“You are fuckin’ exquisite,” He tells you with the same tone he probably uses to threaten bodily harm on someone, the same insidious, frightening surety.

Ghost runs one hand down your ruined, bite-covered chest, losing his train of thought for a moment to watch your tits bounce when he plays with them.

Then he shakes it off so he can kiss you as he drags his hands over your hips, your thighs, one clutches the small of your back, and you’re as close as you can get with all his clothes in the way.

“Sexy as fuck, bloody brilliant, such a good, eager whore for me.” You see a flash of his white teeth when he laughs, a low sound that spills with amusement.

His hands spin you around and push you towards the shot-up target until you’re bent over the railing separating the firing booth from the rest of the lane.

Once you brace your arms on the metal barricade, Ghost grinds his hips against your body. “Yeah, I like you. You could call it that,” He hisses.

“Is that a pistol in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Your mouth runs before you can stop it.

“…That was awful.”

Then you’re laughing, cackling so hard that your stomach hurts. “I know right? Hah! I had to,” You chortle, hiccuping in delight.

You hear him sigh. “Don’t make that joke again.”

You take a second to evaluate your position. First, you adjust your grip on the metal so it will be a little comfier. “Why? Gonna use it on me?” You arch your back and look over your shoulder with a smile…

Ghost throws his head back at the sight you make. “You are fuckin’ evil, d’ya know that?” He mutters, then reaches for your body like he can’t even pretend to resist.

You feel him flip your skirt up over your back. “Aww, baby. That’s so sweet!” You tease.

“Gonna fuck you ‘till you stop callin’ me that.” At first, you think he will prep you like usual. But instead of stretching your pussy out with his fingers, Ghost simply works your clit until you’re wet again.

Oh shit. He spits into his palm, and you hear the slick sounds of him running his hand over his cock.

“Never- ah-“ You moan as Ghost eases the head of his dick into your folds. He hisses through his teeth as soon as your muscles clamp down, your body unsure whether to drag him in deeper or push him out.

Tears gather in your eyes as he slowly, slowly, slowly thrusts in. “Take it. C’mon. Fucking take it,” He commands through deep, desperate pants.

No. You can’t. You can’t. The stretch is- it’s more than you’ve ever felt before; your poor pussy aches as it flutters helplessly around the massive fucking cock rearranging your insides.

Your eyes roll back when he thrusts another inch further. “Ghost, please- I…” He pulls out, pushes in, your elbows can’t hold you up any longer, so you go boneless against the metal cutting into your arms.

You don’t notice the hair covering your eyes, not when your heart beats so loud your pussy contracts with each pulse. “You’re so…” You cry out, trying so hard to do as he says, but his cock is just, it’s, it’s ruining you.

“Pretty girl. Gorgeous. Beautiful.”

Ghost curses as he readjusts, unintentionally sliding the tip of his cock past your g-spot, leaving you bowed over with white knuckles through a sharp bolt of pleasure that burns.

Finally, he gets his arm around you so he can play with your clit in slow, even motions, something stable and gentle for you to focus on. “You- you’re not gonna fit…” Your words come out garbled and stuttered, and it’s a miracle he understands you all.

He makes a deep, choked-up sound as he drives himself almost to the hilt. “Well, that’s too fuckin’ bad.” Carefully, Ghost increases the pressure on your clit, his fingers slipping a few times from all the wetness trickling out of your horribly-stretched cunt.

You push back without realizing it until, finally, he can slide all the way in. “There we go, that’s a good girl…” He purrs, lazily rolling his hips in a gentle rhythm. Right now, anything faster or harder would break you.

Deliriously, you wonder if he’s in your belly now. “Oh- oh my god, Ghost, I can’t-

“Feels good?”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, your cock, you’re so big, ohmygod,” You chant as he grips your pelvis and fucks you deeper, aiming for the most sensitive places in your core.

One of his hands slides into your hair and forces your head up. “Look. Look,” Ghost gasps into your ear. “See that? Immaculate fuckin’ aim.” You can barely focus on the target, not when you’re trembling so hard underneath him.

Your stomach tightens and tightens, and you’re moaning his name like it’s a prayer. “Fuck, squeeze me again.” Your muscles contract around his cock like a vise, not quite an orgasm, but almost.

Pain tingles in your scalp when he tightens the fist in your hair. “You’re deadly, sweetheart. And a fuckin’ stunner. My wife is perfect. Her body is perfect.”

At this point, you’re lax and incoherent, and the only other thing holding you up is the railing he’s fucking you on. It makes a slamming, cracking noise with each thrust.

“Tell me you’re perfect.”

Right now, Ghost could order you to do literally anything, and you would try; he feels just that good.

“I- I’m perfect,” You wail.

Fuck. Fuck. He’s grunting behind you, pounding into your ruined, aching core like he’s as close, as desperate for release as you are. “Good girl. This cunt was made for me, Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” He releases your hair to wrap an arm around your waist and help you arch your back.

“Tell me you’re a crack shot.” You can feel something shoot up your spine, some great force writhing and pulsating in your guts, so powerful and pleasurable that every muscle in your body screams for release.

“I’m a crack shot.”

Ghost’s brutal rhythm begins to falter. “Tell me I’m fuckin’ obsessed with you,” He pleads in a deep, rumbling whine.

“You’re obsessed with me, fuck, fuck, I’m coming-“

Your orgasm rolls through you like a crack of lightning, bright white lights bursting behind your closed eyelids. It rips the breath from your lungs, you forget how to use your vocal cords, and your wetness covers his pants and your thighs.

Your overstimulated pussy quivers on his still-thrusting cock, on and on, each pulse as pained as it is rapturous. You’re gonna die, you think deliriously, he’s gonna fucking kill you, as Ghost fucks you through the spasms with a vengeance.

When you think you’ll pass out, the tension unspools, and your muscles lock for the last time. Then you feel him come. Warm ropes of spend fill you until you can’t take anymore, then it spills out of your swollen folds to trickle down your legs.

Ghost pulls out to watch more of his cum flow out of you before helping you upright and kissing the back of your sweat-soaked neck. “…Fuckin’ hell,” He murmurs into your skin, leaving smears of black makeup where he nuzzled into your throat.

You push at his shoulders until he lets you turn around. Then you draw him down for more kisses. “I think you might have to carry me out of here,” You whisper into his lips.

The sound of his chuckle is so infinitely precious. You wish you could preserve it, like pressing flowers between the pages of a book so that you can remember it later.

“I can do that.”

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