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moongreenlight · 4 months

Text

U already KNOW what time it is baybee!!!! WIP WEDNESDAY!

Been riding the Gaz high and this has been in the works recently (I wrote 2k words yesterday) so here's this!

Director!Gaz x Actress!Reader

Summary: It’s the mid-1970’s and you’ve recently made the unshocking discovery that it’s difficult to find good work acting. Lucky you stumble on the wrong opportunity at the right time!

You’re not dumb enough to fall for the advertisements in the papers looking for actors in ‘up and coming independent films.’ Not anymore.

After being burned so many times by ‘pay to audition’ schemes and sleazy directors only looking to collect videotapes of girls doing porno auditions, you gave up on that front.

But what’s the stipulation on extenuating circumstances? Like when you’re working at a bar a few blocks away from the community theater and a man comes up and sits at the counter all by himself.

He’s gorgeous and a sweet talker. Seems intent on chatting with you even though you really should be polishing glassware. And once he’s finally caught you in his snare, he drops a bomb that up until this point you’d only ever heard stories about.

He says he’s a small-time director and he saw you in the last production the theatre put on. He laughs and makes a lighthearted self-deprecating joke about being “one of those wankers in the paper” to which you wrinkle your nose and give him a weary smile.

But, Jesus, if he can’t make a bad thing good. He’s got all the makings of a politician the way he’s able to talk circles around you until you agree to show up to an audition for his latest project. ‘Trouble in paradise’ or something to that tune.

He tips you twenty pounds and his business card on a coke he barely touches. Uses your pen to write your audition time on the back of the card.

Wednesday at 11a. x

He doesn’t give back the pen.

Your roommates do no good talking you out of it. Hushing your half-arsed arguments about scams and serial killers and all kinds of things. It ends with the four of you in a pile on the couch, wine-drunk and giggling yourselves into hysterics.

So two days later you go. Forcing your roommates to promise no less than five times that if you’re not heard from in an hour that they’ll send in the authorities.

You find your way to the address on the card that now looks tired in comparison to when you first got it. The edges are fussy and dog-eared from your worrying with it and passing it around to prove its legitimacy.

It doesn’t look like any studio or office you’ve seen. Far from. And that should have been the final nail in the coffin. Should have been the reason you turned tail and went back home. But something pulled you up the worn steps of the house. That same something, now cowering a bit at the looming possibility, brought you to rap your knuckles sharply on the part of the door with a few different layers of paint chipped away to expose the cheap metal underneath.

You’re left standing on the stoop for a few moments too long with no answer. And just as you were about to come to your senses and return home with some sliver of your dignity still intact; the door swung inward and exposed the same man from the bar - Kyle - with his horrible, beautiful, toothy smile.

“Thought you were going to stand me up. Wouldn’t have known what to do with myself.”

You catch yourself thinking it’s a shame that he’s directing and not starring in movies. His devastating good-looks and all. Must be a terrible read.

There’s a card table set up in the living room. Two folding chairs behind it that look flimsy at best. Three thick packets that have been three-hole punched on the side, but held together by a binder clip in the top center.

The rest of the furniture is pushed up against the wall. A hodge-podge of mismatched chairs and a sofa that very well could have been your grandmothers and a few banged-up side tables.

He offers water. Offers to take your purse. You decline both. Opt to stand a bit stiffly on the faded rug in the center of the room with your bag tucked snugly under your arm.

Maybe you should make a run for it. Maybe you were stupid to come at all. He’s a total stranger for Christ sake.

Before you can will your feet to move, there’s s bang from behind you. A screen door slamming shut and rattling on its hinges. It startles you almost a foot into the air.

“Nervous?”

Kyle is cool as ever, sliding into one of the chairs, waggling his eyebrows at you. It whines under his weight and you’re suddenly very aware of just how bulky he is. Doesn’t look it on passing glance, but when all you’ve got to look at is the way his shirt fits it becomes glaringly obvious.

“Easily startled.”

You correct, trying to decide whether or not it’s passé to turn over your shoulder to find the source of the heavy footsteps behind you.

He hums and grabs one of the packets, taking off the clip and leafing through it. Pulling out a few odd pages and setting them on the table.

The footsteps reveal their maker when he rounds the corner into the room and shuffles behind the table. If you thought Kyle was big, this man is properly a behemoth. A bit taller, broader in the shoulders, a layer of fat packed on over his muscles. He looks to be older by a few years. He gets crows feet when he nods and smiles at you before taking his seat.

The chair looks as though it would be happier pulling its own legs out from underneath itself.

“Cap’.”

Kyle doesn’t look up from his papers when he addresses the man.

You get no formal introduction to ‘Cap’ though he doesn��t seem to be truly involved in the audition process. He barely glances up from his packet. Content to nurse a fresh cigar and lean further back in the chair than you think should be plausible.

You read from the stack of pulled-out papers with sloppily highlighted lines and try not to shy away from meeting Kyle’s watchful eye.

The audition goes normally, all things considered. You’re instructed to read three different scenes. Without the time to read the blurb on the project, you draw the conclusion that “Trouble in Paradise” is some sort of short suspense film centered around a woman living, shockingly, in paradise.

The writing isn’t first-rate, but you suppose that’s to be expected. You have a hard time piecing together how the scenes flow, but that’s not your largest concern.

“Lovely. Really, darl’.”

Kyle stands when he talks. Commands the attention even of such a small audience. Takes up space in the room like he’s owed it.

You smile, feeling a bit more at-ease now that things seem to be wrapping up.

“N’ how do you look in a bathing suit?”

The question takes you entirely off-guard. It makes your jaw fall far enough open that you’re left looking like a fish out of water.

“I- sorry?”

Kyle’s face doesn’t change. Fantastic at keeping up appearances. He’s still casting that warm smile over you. The focus of it makes you feel like you’re sunbathing.

“Bathing suit, love. How d’you look?”

Disappointment drops like a stone in your belly. Heavy and fast. It’s another scam. Of course it is.

“Oh. I don’t- I don’t do dirty movies.”

It must be palpable on your face even more than it is in your voice.

‘Cap’ glances up at Kyle when he ashes his cigar. The smell is nauseating. He seems to be chewing on a smile. Kyle meets his eye for only a moment, amusement painfully evident on his face.

“You’ve just read the pool scene. Hardly anything dirty about costuming.”

#gaz x calling reader 'darl' you will always be famous #moongreenlight #moongreenlightwrites #sephspeaks #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod x reader #141 headcanons #drabble #gaz x reader #gaz call of duty #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #wip wednesday

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the-fiction-witch · 6 months

Text

Pouty

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty AF + Mild Smut

Warnings Gambling / alcohol

I sat on the well-stuffed armchair that I had moved over, replacing the cheap wooden chair of the card table with my usual parlour armchair, my bare feet on the soft rug, the fire crackling and popping to my side as it worked away at the wood and coal I threw on a few moments ago. My cards on the well-polished wood of the card table, the edges slightly buffed and worn down from people's arms, my cards face down showing only the patterned back, coins in the centre of the table stacked up nicely, his cards on the other side. He sat in his armchair, well it wasn't his but it may well have been, leant back with his usual fluffy hair, his white loose sleeve shirt, his blue waistcoat, his green tie undone allowed to hang low and his brown trousers, his chocolate eyes leaving me with no place to hide, his smirk upturned on his lips.

I sat similarly in my chair with my arms over my chest doing my best to look at anything but him, flicking my eyes around the room that was meant to be our parlour but my father merely used it as a card room, with tables, chairs, a bar to the side and as many games as could be imagined. We were... A little, not tipsy, nowhere near Pidgeon step, but... Giggly, and giddy. Which didn't help matters.

He never moved his gaze though giving me very little choice in my proceedings.

"I don't know why I play with you." I snapped pushing my cards into the centre folding,

His smirk only grew as he moved the centre pile to his little pile proud of himself for his winnings, taking my cards and having a look before rolling his eyes "You had me going for a while at the start there," He smirked adding them along with his own back to the deck and beginning to shuffle them, "Again?"

"Alright," I sighed, as much as I didn't want to keep losing I didn't want him to go just yet, "I just need to be a bit careful..."

"Careful?"

"Umm... Last week someone took home my whole allowance!"

"Shouldn't bet it, if you not prepared to lose it."

"And you live by that philosophy do you?"

"I do indeed."

"No, you do not! I've known you to be in the whole for more than you make in a year?" I laughed "As I recall he was going to chop your hand off."

He smirked and very fragrantly moved his hands as he spoke making sure to draw attention to them "And do I have both still?"

"Yes, because you're a crafty little..."

"Ohh go on?" He chuckled leaning on his hand "I shall like to hear this,"

"You're a crafty little... fool."

"You're adorable" he smiled blowing me a kiss across the table as he dealt the cards I glanced at mine and had nothing but I wanted to keep him going a while, I did my best not to react watching him as he checked his own but god damn it he's good! not letting a single reaction make it's way though. He moved a coin to the centre so I did so too, back and forth this went on as the pile grew both of us constantly trying to read one another, I knew I didn't have much money left and I was no closer to knowing what he had so I folded before I lost everything and he smirked taking his winnings with a wide smile,

"Jack Dawkins, must you be such a .... Person." I sighed in frustration,

"A person?" He smirked shuffling the cards again,

"A... Person." I snapped,

"Aww, go on. you can do it. What am I?"

I know what I wanted to say but the words stuck behind my teeth

"Go on, I won't tell," He smirked winking at me as he delt the cards again

"Dick." I sighed glancing at my cards and for once I had something good! really good! but I kept my face still,

He laughed at me, "You are adorable. Come on you can do better than that" Not even checking his cards,

I huffed.

"Come on, I won't tell, I think it's cute when you swear. such a cute Wittle Wady saying the words her daddy won't Wet her." he playfully joked as he moved a coin to the centre "I'll even get you started. Cunt."

"Jack!"

"What?"

"You- You can't just-" I began,

"Cunt. See nothing happens. Cunt. god doesn't come and strike you down for swearing Y/n. He did... I would be in the pits of hell five times over by now."

"Dick." I sighed adding a coin

"Yes, we've heard that one come on you can do better."

"I- I can't,"

"Your father's not here It's safe. I promise I won't say a word" he smiled adding a few more coins

"Little fucker."

"Ahhh! there we go, Pouty little princess."

"I'm not pouting"

"Yes you are, you're mad at me. Awww pouty wittle princess mad I took her allowance?"

"I. am. not. Pouty."

"You're a ... " I began but I couldn't say it, he just glanced up at me expectantly "Bastard."

"Ooohhh sharp tonight Y/n" He smirked "Come on," he smirked as we had reached the point where I had no more money to bet from my weekly allowance but these cards were so good there was no way I could lose! So I slipped off my bracelet adding it to the pile "Very nice," He smirked adding more coins "Go on, how you gonna get out of this one?"

"Arsehole," I sighed pulling off my ring and adding it to the pile,

"Confident little pouty princess tonight," he smirked simply adding more money,

"Shit." I sighed as I had nothing else to bet with, "You open to an IOU?"

"Depends what it is," He shrugs slyly,

"Half next week's allowance when I get it."

he smirked, "Why? I'll end up winning it when I come over anyway,"

"Please?"

"Alright" He smirked grabbing some paper from the bar and writing out and IOU "Go on," he smirked sliding it over so I signed it and added it to the pile, he smirked and simply added more coins "Ooohh now what are you going to do?"

"... Another IOU?"

"For?"

"More of my allowance next week?"

"No."

"What?"

"If I take all of next week's allowance you have nothing to play with then. I'm just robbing myself of the future enjoyment of taking it."

"Ughhh... what do you want then?"

"Anything I want?"

"Yes,"

"Anything?"

"Within reason."

"So all anything is on the table as it were?" he smirked leaning his elbows on the table, connecting his hands and resting his chin there,

"within reason, you slimy little fish boy."

"Fish boy? Are you actually out of swears you know?"

"Shithead."

He smirked still with the paper from the bar in handwriting on it in a way I couldn't see and slid it over licking his lip as he did, I took it a little confused and read it

'IOU, One on the Lips Kiss. Signed _________'

"You're kidding?"

"I am not."

"Why?"

He shrugged "The sick twisted joy of forcing the pouty little princess to pucker up?"

"You're a dickhole."

"Oohh getting more inventive now. Take it or leave it."

"How much do you value that?"

"Let's say to the value of four pounds?"

"Four pounds!"

"That's what the girls down the cat and bagpipes charge."

"Well, I ain't a girl down the cat and bagpipes jack, Twelve."

"Six."

"Ten."

"Nine."

"Fine." I sighed signing it and adding it to the pile, He nodded and simply added more money

"Well, now what am I meant to do?" I glared

He smirked glancing at the paper he still had on the table and I rolled my eyes, "Fine."

"Don't bet what you can't lose. You can fold at any time little lady." he chuckled writing on the paper and sliding it over to me waiting with an evil smirk, I flipped it and looked immediately turning red at the idea

'IOU, One lap sit lasting at least one minute. Signed _________'

"You want me to do what now!"

"Sit on my lap," he smirked leaning back in his chair slightly and opening his legs almost invitingly

"One minute?"

"At least."

"Fine." I snapped signing and adding it to the now formidable pile

"You must be very confident,"

"So must you" I smirked "...If I win? will you give me a kiss?"

"The IOU had no name so... Yes I suppose if you won they go to you."

"So you'd have to kiss me, Jack?" I giggled leaning on the table a little "And come sit on my lap?"

"I would, little concerned if I'll fit but yes if you win then I'll do it." He smirked "So... do you fold or are we going to keep adding here?"

"Adding. Go on. You can choose."

"Ohh how kind of you princess" he smirked clearly getting a wicked idea writing on the paper and sliding it over so I took it

'IOU, One Touch of an intimate area of the winner's choice. Signed _________'

"An Intimate area?"

"Yes,"

"Which would be wear?"

"Your tits. or your arse. Or your pussy if I was feeling like it." He smirked

"And If I win?"

"My arse, or my cock."

"That still sounds like it would benefit you more than me."

"Then I can't lose can I?"

"How much?"

"fifteen pounds."

"Fine" I smirked signing it and adding it to the pile

"Interesting you value a kiss at nine pounds but me fondling your tit is fifteen... I could in theory fondle your arse for less than the price of two kisses"

"Your turn" I smirked ignoring his comment and noticing he now had very little left to bet with so he slid the last of his money in "Not enough."

"Ohh come on-"

"Nope. you want to keep the stakes this high then meet them."

He rolled his eyes and slid over the pad and pen "Go on then."

I took the pen thinking for a moment this was all getting a bit intense but if I won! I got everything! and he was betting with my last three weeks' worth of allowance I had lost to him, as well as his recent winnings from evenings at the Cat and Bagpipes and wherever else he scampers off too to play cards that aren't just here with me when my father's out. And I had to admit... the idea of winning and turning his perverted little request of me sitting on his lap and him touching my intimate places into something humiliating for him to have to sit on my lap while I slap his arse was too good to resist. But what to make him do, trying to think of what would humiliate him the most...

'IOU, One spanking session. Signed _________'

And I slid it over with a smile

"Uhh? So I'd get to spank you? That definitely sounds like it's more for my benefit."

"Does it?"

"yeah. That's hot as fuck!"

"No, winner takes."

"So, when I win I get to give you a spanking my pouty little princess?"

"If you win. yes. and when I win, I get to bend you over and give you a spanking"

"You'd really spank me?"

"I would."

"You can't even say cunt in your own house when your father isn't here you're going to bend me over and spank me are you?"

"I am."

"Alright" he smirked signing it and adding it to the pile quickly taking the pad back writing quickly and sliding it over

'IOU, One tickle session. Signed _________'

"A what?"

"I get to lie you down, tie you up. and tickle you to my heart's content."

"With my clothes on?"

"...some of them"

"To what end?"

"My amusement."

"and when I win? I get to tie you up and tickle you?"

"If you win, yes."

"Alright" I smirked signing it and taking back the pad trying to think of something, and an evil thought came into my mind

'IOU, One orgasm. Signed _________'

and I folded the paper stroking down the fold line before kissing the fold and sliding it over to him, He watched me rather excitedly taking it kissing the fold line himself before opening it

"Oh." He stopped short "Really?"

"Really."

"My pouty little princess wants me to make her cum?"

"When I win."

"And if I win?"

"You get one I guess, if that happens."

"You'll make me cum?"

"I will."

"How?"

"hands."

"Ohh no no."

"You're the one short on money. I get to decide."

"Fine. Hands" He smirked quickly signing away and adding it to the pile "Ohh look at that now you need to bet, so you fold or you bet?"

"Bet."

"Good girl," he smirked taking the paper and pen back and I didn't even need to check it really I knew what he was going to write and as soon as it slid back to me

'IOU, One orgasm By mouth. Signed _________'

"So... when I win you owe me two?"

"One by hand, one by mouth to cash when requested."

I smirked and signed adding it to the pile

"Your turn, I'm not folding princess."

"Alright," I smirked taking the paper and pen, trying to think of something and then it hit me! god damn it why didn't I think of this earlier

'IOU, full nude pose. Signed _________'

and I slid it back

"Pose?"

"Yep."

"why a pose specicily?"

"I can draw you."

"Draw me? why a cute little picture to keep under your pillow?"

"To display in town and humiliate you."

"And when I win?"

"You can see me naked, I'm sure that'd amuse you."

"I'm a doctor. I see naked ladies a lot. Like... so much it's kinda boring now"

"Boring?"

"It's just boobs. and a pussy. Yes, both of those can be spectacular but.. they are just boobs." He shrugs "Can I draw you?"

"Can you draw?"

"... I would try. and then I can put you up in my room above my bed" he winked

"Fine."

"Deal" he smirked happily signing "My turn!" He smirked grabbing the pad back and quickly writing his own sliding the paper over

'IOU, One Full Penotrational Sex Session. Signed _________'

immediately I turned red and he just smirked,

"No!"

"What?"

"No! No way!"

"Why not?"

"We are not betting with my Innocence Jack."

"Everything is on the table, you said so."

"No!"

"You agree to the IOU, Or you you fold." He smirked,

"Fine." I sighed signing and smirking "I'll see you."

He smirked and revealed his cards,

"...... you cunt." I sighed revealing my cards and he had beaten me!

He chuckled and pulled his pile of winnings to himself gathering all the IOU's and flicking them and then using them as a fan for himself "Well... isn't this just a lovely turn of events" He smirked taking one out and sliding it over to me "I'd like to cash this one, Now."

I looked and it was the

'IOU, One lap sit lasting at least one minute. Signed _________'

I sighed ripping it and throwing it on the fire before I got up and moved to sit on his leg, immediately he wrapped his arms around me pulling me to his chest

"Aww pouty little princess."

"I hate you."

"I know."

"You are an evil... conniving little man."

"I know" he shrugs "Now... what are we to do with the rest of our evening?" he smirked "Ohh. I have some ideas" he smirked waving his IOU's around suggestively "I have some rewards to cash" He smirked shoving the papers into the cleavage of my dress, grabbing my thighs as he stood forcing me to wrap them around him, so I quickly wrapped my arms around him so I wouldn't fall

"JACK!" I squealed

"Off we go then, princess. Don't worry you won't be pouty much longer" he smirked carrying me up to my bedroom...

#thomasbrodiesangster #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas sangster imagine #thomas sangster #tbs #thomas brodie sangster #thomas brodie sangster smut #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins #the artful dodger #theartfuldogger #thearttfuldodger

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missmeinyourbones · 2 years

Text

“let’s kiss, just to see what it’s like” (jean kirstein x reader) (wc: 850+)

inspired from this list of prompts

Drunken nights spent with Jean in the confines of your childhood bedroom weren't all that unfamiliar to you.

You may have outgrown the stains on your rug and the neon colors on your walls, but you’ve yet to get tired of the man sitting across from you, his long legs folded like a pretzel as he takes a large swig of the alcohol in his cup. It’s warm, familiar, you think, as you slowly intoxicate yourselves with cheap wine and giggles about nothing in particular.

However, what is unfamiliar are the words he casually bares; they cut through the air like a steel sword as the warmth of the room turns into a sudden overbearing and sweltering heat.

“Let’s kiss.”

You try your best to not choke on the sweet liquor you’re sipping on, but a tiny cough bubbles up from your throat regardless of your attempts to swallow it down.

“Sorry?”

“Let’s kiss,” he repeats without hesitation, but after carefully assessing the panicked look on your face, he’s quick to elaborate with a shrug of his shoulders, “Just to see what it’s like.”

Just to see what it’s like?

You scoff out of uneasiness, a weak attempt of playing your anxiety off as annoyance at his flirty manner. He’d always been one to make teasing comments, but they were jokes, they didn't matter, because you were friends.

But if you’re truly just friends, then why does your heart feel like lead as it sinks down into your stomach at his words?

You continue to blankly stare at him, waiting for his just kidding or in your dreams to come, but they never do. His honey eyes simply bore right back into yours, almost as if he’s challenging you to respond to him. Your body instantly reacts to his suggestion by heating up all over, so you do what you do best—you ignore him and deflect his words.

“You’re drunk,” you simply state.

“Tipsy,” he quickly corrects, “And so are you, so it cancels out.”

Again, there’s no point in arguing with him when your body feels like it’s on fire, so you scoff once more before hiding your flushed cheeks behind a drawn out sip of your drink. You pray it’s enough to be a successful attempt at hiding how flustered you actually are. In fact, anyone who doesn't know you would think that you're completely and utterly irritated by the persistent idiot currently pestering you.

However, Jean knows you. He knows your ins and outs like a book he’s written himself. He knows your hardcover illustration and the soft pages of your delicate chapters. He knows your crooked spine and your personal annotations. So no, your aloof facade doesn’t sway him—if anything, it lights a fire beneath him to keep persisting.

“C’mon,” he ushers you with a light bump of his shoulder. The liquid in your cup gently swooshes around the plastic ring from the impact as he continues, “You’ve never thought about what it’d be like?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

He’s taunting you—getting you all riled up for his own personal amusement. He’s purposefully pushing all of your buttons he’s oh so familiar with, just to get a rise out of you. But, you're not going to give it to him—not without a little bit of a fight, at least.

“Maybe,” you bite back with an edge, as you down the rest of your drink and turn towards him. His raised eyebrows tell you that he’s a bit surprised at your courage, but still entertained with what he’s set into motion.

You’re eyeing him directly, silently challenging him to do something. If he’s quick to talk and tease, he might as well prove himself. You're eyes fall from his own down to his lips, before quickly returning to his stare, “What if I am? What are you gonna do about it, huh?”

For a second, a split second, you feel like you’ve won. Jean is almost silent as he surveys your smirk, revealing your own satisfaction with your response.

Your upper hand is short lived because suddenly he’s closing the space between the two of you (not that there was much to begin with). He’s overwhelmingly close and yet it’s still not enough—you still find yourself wishing he was closer. His lips are ghosting over your own, barely allowing them to touch but you feel the warmth of his breath as he exhales gently.

Millimeters seem like miles as his lips stay there, waiting for you. Itching to touch one another, but stubbornly grounding yourselves as you mentally beg the other to move. Like a game of chicken, the two of you silently mock one another as you wait to see who bites first.

And it’s him.

“The second you give me the okay, I’m going to kiss you,” he whispers so quietly, you wouldn't have heard him if you weren't already staring at his lips, “That’s what I’m gonna do about it. Okay?”

You release a breath you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in, and Jean’s close enough to almost swallow it. His eyes are pleading you to give him the green light, to want this as badly as he does.

And you do—your response is music to his ears.

“Okay.”

#jean kirstein #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean fic #jean kirstein fic #jean fluff #jean kirstein fluff #jean drabble #jean kirstein drabble #jean blurb #jean kirstein blurb #aot #aot x reader #aot writing

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ohbuckie · 3 years

Text

FLUORESCENT ADOLESCENT

college!bucky x reader

summary: bucky fucks you on his bedroom floor.

warnings: smut, fingering, unprotected sex

word count: 2.3k

masterlist

Bucky’s room is at the end of the hall. It’s decorated simply—white rug in the center of the floor, a desk sharing a wall with the door, a few posters littering the walls, a dresser across from the bed in the corner of the room. His bed frame is metal and cheap; flimsy, to say the least. He holds onto it while he fucks you—arm outstretched above your head, trying desperately to keep it from slamming against the wall and using the leverage it gives him to pound into you harder.

His friends’ rooms are both attached to his, with their common wall being the front one that the door is on. Sam and Steve have gotten used to banging on the walls of their bedroom in protest of the loud sex happening on the other side, or even sitting in the hallway and knocking on the door. Of course, this means nothing to Bucky, who could probably ignore a category seven earthquake in order to finish. He’s nothing if not thorough.

He tries to be considerate. He plays music loudly—something with lots of bass, to drown out at least a little bit of the sound—but it renders itself useless in between every song, when both of the guys can hear every sound the two of you make. Good sleep is a lost cause in apartment 4B.

Arriving home from a double date with your roommate, you let your jacket—Bucky’s, actually—fall from your shoulders, and you catch it in your hands to hang it up by the door. You kick off your shoes, run your fingers through your hair, find your boyfriend who scurried away to the kitchen, plant a kiss on his lips.

“That was fun.” You say, running your hands up his chest, remembering how he kissed you in the cab on the way here. He smiles and leans on the counter with the heels of his palms, with you in between his arms, in front of his chest.

His lips find yours, and you cup his cheeks in your hands, accepting the tongue that he runs along your lower lip. He tastes like the red wine that he had with his dinner and smells like the expensive cologne that you gifted him last Christmas.

“I don’t think the guys are home.” He says against your mouth, and you smile, breaking the kiss and practically running down the hallway.

He follows you to his bedroom, his hand making contact with your ass, leaving it stinging while you twist the knob and push the door open. He beats you to the bed, sitting on the edge with his legs open, waiting for you to climb onto his lap. You straddle him, feeling his arms wrap around your waist and his lips attach to your neck, delivering wet, hot kisses to your throat and collarbones. He runs his hands over your body—along your shoulder blades, down your spine, across your lower back—appreciating the figure-hugging black minidress that you’re wearing.

You lean forward to push him onto his back, catching yourself on your hands, which are positioned on either side of his head. You grind against his lap and he flips you onto your back in response, rolling his hips into yours.

You kiss like pornstars, swapping saliva between your mouths through tongues and clashing teeth, sucking and biting at plush lips. With his hips between your thighs, your dress inches further up your legs, making your red thong visible.

Your hands are free, and you use this opportunity to pull his shirt out of his pants and unbutton it until it’s open. The two sides hang down, exposing the top of his prosthetic arm and the outrageously defined muscles of his torso.

“Bucky.” You breathe, lips wetly separating from his.

“You okay?”

You nod. “Just want you.”

He chuckles teasingly, nudging your chin upwards with his nose and kissing down to your chest. You arch your back into him, pushing your fingers into the hair at the base of his head.

The room is dark, except for the animated screensaver of the open laptop of his desk and the moonlight that pours through the blinds perfectly, casting rigid bars of light across the wall opposite the bed. You reach to the nightstand beside you, pulling the cord on the lamp and wincing when it turns on as you’re staring at the bulb.

He pulls away and gathers himself, licking his lips and pushing hair from his forehead while he catches his breath. He looks up at you and smiles sweetly, kissing your cheek before standing from the bed and unbuckling his belt, unbuttoning his slacks, pulling the zipper down, shoving them past his thighs. His belt hits the floor with a jingle and he steps out of the pants that are now pooled around his ankles. Dark gray briefs are revealed, and you appreciate how nicely they cling to his legs and ass. You remember an earlier comment from him about “fancy underwear,” and you giggle to yourself when you realize that this is what he was talking about.

“What’s funny?”

“‘Fancy underwear.��” You repeat to him, and he cracks a smile before he steps over to you to get back to business.

Instead of removing your dress, he pushes it up past your hips, harshly pulling your panties down and out of his way. He kneels in front of you and kisses your inner thighs, moving up to your pussy, ghosting over it with his lips for a moment before pressing a delicate kiss to your clit, his eyes trained on yours. His gaze remains unwavering when he licks a stripe up your entire pussy. His tongue pushes between your folds and applies pressure to your sensitive bud, and you both moan—you at the sensation and him at the taste.

“Buck.” You whine. “Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please fuck me.”

He sighs, disappointed that he can’t eat you out. Not that he isn’t excited to fuck you.

He stands and steps out of his underwear, tossing them behind his right shoulder. His cock stands against his stomach, seemingly thrilled to be freed from its fabric prison. You can’t take your eyes off of it—pretty and pink, fairly long and definitely thick enough.

He spreads his large hand over your lower stomach and lets his thumb hover over your bundle of nerves, keeping it still, for now. He gives his cock a few pumps, holding it just below the head to line it up with your entrance. He looks at you while he pushes in, because he loves the way that your eyes squeeze shut and your hips wiggle to get more comfortable with his intrusion.

He chews on his bottom lip, waiting until you stop clenching and fluttering around him before he moves. When he does, you reach to the hand on your stomach and hold his wrist tightly. He uses his other hand to put your right leg over his left shoulder, the cold metal of his mechanical hand at variance with your hot skin. You take the initiative to put your other leg up on your own.

His movements are less of a rhythmic roll and more of a pistoning in and out of you, giving you what you begged him for only a moment ago. At first, the thrusts are shallow, but after about a minute he can’t help himself anymore. With every jerk of his hips, his cock slams against a spot inside of you that only he has ever reached—although you’d never tell him that, because you’re too proud to admit that he can make you feel better than you ever could yourself.

When you let go of his wrist, he withdraws his hand, licking his thumb before putting it back where it was and putting it to use. He draws small circles into your clit, just like you taught him to do when you first started dating. You buck your hips up and it makes him smile, and you want to smack that look off of his face. You hate that he knows exactly how good he makes you feel.

You tighten around him when you study his concentrated face—how his brows furrow and he licks his lips.

“Feel good?”

“Yes.” Your voice is strained by desire.

“Good.” He mumbles, and starts to put a little more behind every thrust. He pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in, and the slapping noises that your skin makes upon contact with him is obscene. The bed frame squeaks as it rocks, and it hits the wall over and over again, at a moderate-but-still-annoying volume.

Loud knocking on the closed door startles you, but doesn’t phase Bucky.

“What?” He asks, not stopping, or even so much as looking in the direction of the interruption at the door.

Sam’s raised voice is on the other side. “At least put on the music, man. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. Go away.” Bucky replies. Footsteps descend and a door closes. Bucky pauses his movements, clearly annoyed, to lean over and fish his phone out of the pocket of the pants that he let fall to the floor earlier. He thanks God for Bluetooth when it automatically connects to the speaker that lives on his desk, and all he has to do is press play. He tosses the phone onto the mattress, lets it bounce behind your head, and picks up where he left off.

The music is loud enough to drown out the squeaking and the slapping, but definitely not the bed hitting the wall. You can’t bring yourself to care, because the circles against your clit are growing bigger and faster, and your eyes are rolling back into your head.

“Fu-u-uck.” You moan, syllables choppy from the way that you’re being fucked.

“You’re so hot.” He mutters, letting a breathy moan slip out after his words.

Something hits the part of the wall that Steve’s room is behind, and you both can hear shouting. “Shut up!”

Neither of you respond.

A familiar feeling pools in your lower stomach, tightening and threatening to spill. “I’m so close, Buck.”

You tense around him, squeezing his cock and surely bringing him close, too. He pulls out suddenly, but quickly replaces his dick with two of his fingers, curling them against the upper wall of the inside of your pussy. It shoves you violently over the edge, and you cum with a moan that rips through your chest and leaves your throat burning. His fingers continue to move through your orgasm and he watches your legs tremble, kissing your calves that are still rested beside his head.

“You good?”

You only nod.

“We’re being too loud on the bed. Get on the floor.” He orders, and you breathe through your nose, exhaling through your mouth before you stand on wobbly legs. Before you lower yourself to the floor, covered by his pristinely clean, white rug, he clarifies, “Hands and knees.”

The bass of the music booms through your chest, reverberates through your bones, echoes through your head. You feel him kneel behind you, putting one foot onto the floor for balance. You wish you could see him right now—shirt open, sweaty chest heaving, cock standing at attention, ready to fuck you to completion for the second time. He tilts his head down and you can hear him spit onto his dick before shoving it back into you, exercising no restraint.

Your head bows between your shoulders, and you try not to be too loud, because Sam and Steve hardly ever let you hear the end of it when you do, but Bucky’s making it extremely difficult. He’s taking what he wants now, since he’s already made you cum.

His hands hold your hips like they’re handles, yanking your body backwards onto his cock at the same time that he’s ramming into you. His breathing is heavy, and you close your eyes to picture his face right now. A piece of hair over his forehead, fallen from the gelled mass atop his head, jaw tight, abs tensing. That’s what he usually looks like, anyway, when he’s fucking you into oblivion. It’s an image that’s forever burned behind your eyelids.

His hips are moving bruisingly fast, bringing you closer to another orgasm. It’s actually more like you’re being dragged behind a pick-up truck that’s approaching a cliff and is showing no signs of stopping.

It takes only a hard clench to throw off his rhythm and have him cumming inside of you, scrambling to blindly locate your clit with only his fingertips so that you can finish together. He rolls it between his fingers, rubs haphazardly, and gets lucky when you cry out that you’re there again.

“Bucky! Oh, fuck!” Your knees sting from the rug beneath them, and your hands make a fist around the strings between your fingers. “Oh my God.”

He pulls out slowly, kissing down your spine while his warm seed spills out of you, trickling down your leg.

You lay on your back on the floor, much too tired to stand, and watch him pull his briefs back up, on a mission to dampen a face cloth to wipe you down with. He comes back with one, and wipes the cum from your legs and pussy, leaving small kisses in the wake of the warm water that refreshes you.

He gives a final kiss to your lower stomach before he tosses the cloth in the direction of his hamper. He lays beside you on the floor, taking your face in his metal hand and pressing sweet kisses to your cheeks and forehead and chin.

It's silent for a moment, before he decides, "I need to invest in a sturdier bed."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan fluff

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double-hoe-seven · 3 years

Text

Little Touches

Request: Person A tracing their fingertips over Person B’s face as they watch (lovingly/quietly). And kissing him all over his face?? Pairing: Slade Wilson/Deathstroke x Reader Word Count: 620 Fandom: DCEU/Justice League (Snyder Cut) Warnings: Sexual references

"What do you think you're doing?" Your partner asked lazily as he felt the fingers that had been playing with his hair fall and slowly trace an invisible path down the side of his face and along his jawline. "I don't know, committing every detail of your face to memory," you answered with a soft hum. "Why would you wanna go and do something like that?" He asked, a slightly amused chuckle coming from him. "Is it a crime to wanna remember my husband's face?" You asked sarcastically. "Maybe, I mean, if you were ever captured, you'd be able to paint a pretty perfect picture of me without my mask," he said while his hand moved up to trace lines along your spine. "Slade, you've tied me up and made me beg enough times to know how much it takes for me to give in," you proudly smirked a bit at the way his gaze flickered instantly to meet yours.

"That reminds me of our weekend in Perissa, where we stayed at that little villa on the beach and just went at it like a couple of horny teenagers," he recalled with a fond smile and a chuckle. "Was that the trip where we broke the bed AND the dining table or the one where we ran into each other while we were fighting and hate fucked in the cheap hotel downtown?" You asked with a hum, still tracing the scars on his face with a feather-light touch. "The cheap hotel was in Kyoto, and the broken bed and dining table was in Berlin. Perissa was where we went for our anniversary, we spent more time on the beach and in the hot tub than the bed," he corrected with a smug grin, his eye lighting up at the memories. Your fingertips gently grazed the light scars around his right eye leftover from when he lost it.

He watched your focused expression with an admiring look on his face. You peppered kisses all around his face before finally reaching his lips. It was a gentle kiss, more gentle than he normally was but his beard provided a rougher, more rugged feel. "I love you so much, Slade," you muttered softly against his lips, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other rested firmly on his bare chest. "I love you too, hon, more than I ever thought I was capable of," he admitted, folding his arm to support his head as he leaned against the headboard, the other snaking around your exposed waist. "Because of everything that happened with..." you asked cautiously. He nodded once, his gaze falling down some.

"I'm sorry, babe, I shouldn't have brought them up," you immediately apologized. He offered a halfhearted smile "it's okay. I know you mean well." "Still, I know it's a touchy subject," you said sheepishly. "Hey, it's fine," he promised, kissing you softly but quickly. He cupped your cheek and tilted your head up to meet his gaze "I love you and you've made me feel things I didn't think I'd ever feel after what happened with Adeline. You've made me see with my own eyes that I'm-" "You mean your eye?" You interrupted with a teasing grin. "Watch it, baby, just because we're married doesn't mean I won't put you over my knee and spank your ass raw until your sobbing. Or maybe I'll tie you to the bed and do whatever I want like we did in New Orleans," he warned. "Are those threats or promises? Because I remember New Orleans as being very fun," you countered. "They're both. They're threats I promise to carry out," was his smug answer. "Oh no," came your sarcastic reply with a challenging smirk gracing your lips.

Tag Team: @honey-im-hotdog @bdffkierenwalker

#Deathstroke x Reader #Slade Wilson x Reader #Deathstroke #Slade Wilson #DCEU #Zack Snyder's Justice League #Deathstroke Fic #Slade Wilson Fic #This is basically just domestic!Slade Wilson #Domestic!Slade Wilson lives rent free in my head

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starfinss · 2 years

Text

In Glory, In Ruin — Ch. 3

Fandom: DC Comics, The Batman 2022

Pairing: Bruce Wayne/Batman + Reader

Rating: SFW

Word Count: 3,347

There was one guard by the door.

He was a uniformed officer, set up in a folding chair, and he was sound asleep. You found out the crime scene was in an apartment just diagonal from you, so passing it didn’t seem suspicious since you lived just a few doors away. You passed once, pretending to pick up your mail, and then again on your way back from the mailboxes. Nobody payed attention to the woman with the broken arm. Even though you loathed being seen as a victim, it was helpful this time.

It made you sick to think the murder happened when you were away, safe and warm in the police station. Shona Matthews hadn’t been so lucky. You felt like it was your fault she’d died. You’d only seen Shona a handful of times, but she seemed nice. The last time you’d spoken to her had been a few days ago. You had no idea that would be the last time.

You dressed in black to avoid being spotted, feeling like a criminal, but you had to know. You’d go insane if you didn’t see. You weren’t going to try your luck with the front door, even if the officer on duty was away in dreamland. If the killer entered the apartment the same way he did yours, you’d be able to look through a broken window or something. If they hadn’t sealed it off with police tape and plastic like they had yours, though that was likely.

The click of your key in the lock didn’t alert the guard at all, nor did your footsteps as you passed him, though you supposed it wouldn’t matter if they did. You lived in the building. Your presence wouldn’t be seen as anything suspicious, even if it was just about ten o’clock at night. You could say you were heading to the office late or something, and they’d be none the wiser.

It was drizzling lightly outside, and you could see the dimmest impression of stars between the clouds when they parted, their glow choked with the light and sound of Gotham City. It was like a cheap imitation of the night sky. That was what you missed most about small town living. You could lay on your back in the grass at night and make out the constellations, counting stars until you’d lose track and your head was full of wonder and impossibly large numbers. But now wasn’t the time to reminisce. You tore your gaze away from the sky, shoving your gloved good hand into your pockets as you circled the building, back to where you knew the rear windows of the complex faced.

Sure enough, there was one broken. The plastic used to seal the window had fallen into the unit, the painters tape used to keep it in place fluttering uselessly in the wind. You crept forward, standing on your tiptoes to look inside.

It looked into a hallway, and beyond that, through an open door, a bedroom. The bedroom was only half visible from your vantage point, but from what you could see, there was a bed, made up in blue and white bedclothes, set on an ornate metal frame. Photos and paintings hung on the walls, and against the wall adjacent to the open bedroom door was a heavy dark wood bookshelf, stuffed full with volumes of varying ages. The floor had a gray area rug on it. From what you could see, there were signs of a struggle. Something glass had been shattered, spilling from the open door and into the hall. You could also see blood. It had soaked into the rug, congealed on the hardwood beyond the grey fibers. The body was gone, unsurprisingly, but the smell of the blood was enough to make your stomach turn.

God, there was so much blood. You felt your stomach turn, guilt twisting at your nerves.

“I’m sorry, Shona,” you said, voice quiet.

You shifted slightly, off to the left in order to try and see further into the room, but the door was blocking your field of view. You couldn’t see anything beyond what you’d already noted. Frustration bubbled up inside of you. All you needed was a glimpse, of a petal, a stem, anything. If that daisy was there—

“What are you doing here?”

The voice made you jump so hard you almost fell over, and you whirled around, your good arm shooting out to defend yourself, but your wrist was caught by a large hand, the grip firm and nearly bruising. The pressure lessened slightly, even as you struggled. You looked up, sure your goose was cooked, scrambling for an excuse.

It was him. The Batman. Recognition appeared in his ocean eyes as he scanned your face, his gaze dropping to your arm, the one in the sling, then to the wrist still enclosed in his hand. You stared back at him, almost transfixed, before he let go of your wrist. He stepped back a single pace, but remained firmly in your way. His eyes were expectant, the question he’d asked heavy in the air.

“I—” you said, voice smaller that you’d have liked, “I’m just— I need to see.”

“You need to see,” he repeated, the lack of inflection in his voice making what should have been a question sound more like a statement.

The Bat shifted, his head canting to the side as he studied you, his gaze scrutinizing, making you feel like you were being picked apart, just like the night you’d met. He was an imposing presence, his gaze alone enough to make you feel like you couldn’t hide anything at all. Maybe that was the desired effect, you reasoned, to scare his enemies. You knew he meant you no harm, you weren’t a criminal. But he had a right to be suspicious. This was an active crime scene, and you weren’t a cop.

“What is it that you need to see?”

Your brain wasn’t forming complete thoughts. “I need to see inside.”

He stepped closer, making you step back, the heel of your shoe catching on a loose stone, making you stumble. You watched his hand rise, just a fraction, maybe to stop you from falling.

“Why?” He questioned.

You weren’t sure how to explain. You just had a deep, burning desire to know. If you could see just a little bit, you’d know if this was the man who killed your mother. You weren’t sure what you’d do with the information once you had it. You were a reporter, not a detective, and you if you wanted anything done, if you wanted justice that you had a hand in serving, you had to do some of the legwork yourself. You didn’t know how to explain that, or how it would go over.

He said your name, your full name, making you look up. You figured Gordon had probably told you what it was, but it still caught you off guard.

“That’s you, isn’t it?”

You nodded mutely.

“Do you know something?”

“No,” you said, a little too quickly, “I— no.”

Your loss of words was enough to raise The Bat’s suspicion significantly, and you knew that. You’d be suspicious of yourself. You didn’t doubt that he’d stand there all night unless you talked. You had no choice. You were snooping where you probably shouldn’t, and that was abundantly clear. Voicing it out loud like this was a little humiliating, like you’d been caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

Well, you decided, if you were going to talk, you were going to talk.

“Ten years ago,” you began, “my mother was murdered.”

You let that information sink in. The outward admission, though you’d heard it and said it yourself countless times, pricked ruthlessly at your heart.

“I’m sorry,” The Bat said.

And he really sounded sorry. It wasn’t like those empty apologies you got when people found out about your dead mom. His voice was heavy, earnest, and you could tell he understood. You rose your head to meet his eyes, which were softer now, just a fraction. They were knowing. He’d lost someone, just like you. You felt an odd sort of kinship with him, in that moment. You were unsure if he felt it too.

“Yeah, well,” you said, clearing your throat, “thank you. I’m here because I think the person who killed this girl also killed my mother. But this killer, he left a calling card. A daisy. I need to see if it’s there. If it’s not, I— I don’t know. I’ve spent all this time wondering who took her from me, and I guess it would just— Her murder was never solved. I never got closure. I only knew the moniker the police gave this bastard. I was never able to put a face to the man who did this, and it’s eaten me up inside.”

“Moniker?”

You nodded. “The Butcher of Gotham City. He killed seven women, back—”

“Yeah,” the Batman said, “I know about the murders. So you think he’s back?”

You paused, mulling over your thoughts. “Is it bad that I hope he is?”

The Batman said nothing, simply inclining his head slightly towards you, a gesture to continue. You drew a slow breath.

“If he’s back, I can find out who destroyed my family,” you cast your eyes to the ground, “but it means more people will die. More dead girls, and Shona— if I’d died, she’d still be—”

“No,” Batman said, “no, don’t do that. Don’t do that to yourself.”

You felt emotion well up inside of you. “It’s true, though.”

“It isn’t,” he said, voice firm, “you escaped. You lived. She didn’t. And her death isn’t your fault. Just because you didn’t wind up dead doesn’t mean you should have.”

You knew he was right. You knew you were feeling survivor’s guilt, and that it really wasn’t your fault. But nobody deserves to die, not like that. But you still felt that gnawing, sickly guilt, churning in the pit of your stomach.

“I want to stop him,” you said, before you realized you were speaking.

“Stop him?” The Bat said.

“I want to catch this guy,” you looked up at him, eyes burning with your resolve, “will you help me?”

He stared at you, his mask hiding his expression, but you didn’t think you’d surprised him.

“The path of vengeance—”

You laughed; a short, barking sound that surprised both of you. “Fuck vengeance. I want to stop him so no more people have to go through what I did. They accused my father of the murder, her death tore us all apart. I’ll be damned if I have to sit by and watch as more people die because of Gotham City’s inaction. This isn’t about me. This is about those girls who died who never got justice.”

Though, admittedly, you did think it would be a form of poetic justice if you were the one to take him down.

“No.”

Your head snapped up. “What?”

“I will not put you in danger.”

You scoffed. “If you’re investigating this, you must see the connection between ten years ago and now. Gordon probably put you up to this. And you think I care about what happens to me? I have nothing left to lose.”

“There’s always something to lose.”

Your mouth twisted. “Not this time.”

He said nothing. You didn’t think he’d budge, but you had to try.

“Look,” you said, “I’m a reporter. I’m good at gathering information. I’m just a regular women. You can use that. Nobody knows who I am. I can help.”

A muscle in his jaw tightened, his weight shifting.

“Please,” you said, “you’ve lost someone too, I can tell. Do you remember what it’s like to lose someone like that? I have to find out who did this to my mother.”

“I understand that,” he said, and he really did, “and I also don’t think I’ll be able to stop you.”

You shook your head.

“You’re a stubborn woman,” he said, “the second you’re in danger, this ends.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you protested, “I need to—”

“Those are my conditions,” he pressed, “either you agree, or we can end this now.”

You knew he couldn’t stop you, even if you got yourself in danger. And, to an extent, he probably knew that, too. But this was the best you were getting. You took a breath.

“Fine,” you said, “deal.”

He tilted his head to indicate the window, and you followed his gaze. “We’re going in there?”

He said nothing, simply walking towards the window, using the gauntlet on his arm to clear the more jagged pieces of broken glass away rom the window frame. Then, with catlike grace, he hoisted himself up, disappearing through the opening with a flourish of his cape. He was a good deal taller than you, so he had no trouble getting in. Once he was fully inside the window, he leaned out to offer you a hand, which you took, allowing him to hoist you into the apartment.

The smell of blood was stronger in here, making your stomach turn. It smelled like old pennies, the stench coating your tongue, overtaking your senses. It made you want to gag.

Oh, God.

You’d seen the blood from the window, but you hadn’t seen the amount there really was. It was seeped into the carpet, stuck on the floorboards in a roughly defined pool around where you assumed the body had been found. It was a gruesome sight. You’d only seen anything like it in photos. The smell was making it worse. The Bat didn’t seem to be bothered by it, though, and if he was, he hid it well.

Your attention turned to the bed. The bedclothes were disheveled, halfway on the floor on one side. You deduced that she’d most likely been dragged from bed, judging from the bloodstains on the robin’s eggshell colored sheets where they met the floor. You knelt to examine them, stepping in a wide berth around the blood pool to avoid tainting any evidence.

“She was dragged from the bed,” you said, “how awful.”

The Batman said nothing, but the look on his face was solemn, his eyes dark. You turned onto your side, looking under the bed, eyes scanning, but there wasn’t any daisy. You rose to your feet, turning to speak, but you felt your thigh catch on the nightstand, making it drag noisily against the wooden floor. The sound was like a gunshot in the silence, and you froze, eyes meeting The Batman’s. You had to avoid yelping in pain at the forming bruise on your leg, at the excruciating pain that comes with ramming a body part into the corner of a piece of furniture.

Suddenly, you felt his hand grabbing for yours, tugging you into a dark corner in the hall. You were about to ask him what was going on when he clamped a gloved hand over your mouth, pressing you into the corner, his body blocking you from view. He was so close you could smell the petrichor on him, as well as some kind of faint aftershave. You could feel his breath on your forehead as he pressed closer, his hand dropping from your mouth to rest on the wall beside your head when he was sure you wouldn’t make any noise.

You could hear footsteps, as well as the low, staticky sound that came with a police radio.

The Bat shifted against you, and you could feel the chill of his armor through your sweatshirt, warming with your body heat, as well as the rise and fall of his chest, matching your own breathing. The press was lightly painful against your injured arm, and you bit your tongue. Now was not the time to complain. You looked up at him, and he looked down, his eyes meeting yours. He was so close to you, just a breath away.

The footsteps rounded into the bedroom, and you could see a flashlight swivel out of the corner of your eye, searching for the cause of the noise you’d caused when you’d run into the nightstand.

You were beginning to feel your cheeks heat up, despite the situation. You didn’t have much luck with men, so you weren’t entirely this used to being close to one. It was your turn to shift, your legs bumping against his as you pushed yourself farther into the corner in an attempt to gain some semblance of personal space, but he simply moved closer once again, blocking you in even further. So much for that. Your eyes met again, and you felt the blush spread to your neck. You weren’t aware if he could see that or not, but he probably had some fancy high-tech night vision thing, or heat sensors, with your luck.

Footsteps continued around the bedroom, then passing into the bathroom, the next room over, growing farther away from where the two of you had sought refuge in the corner of the hall. It had to be a miracle that the policeman didn’t shine his flashlight over to where you were. The Batman, he might not mind, or at least wouldn’t raise much fuss about. You, on the other hand, didn’t have that immunity. You were just the woman who lived across the hall. If you were caught, you could be arrested.

You figured the Bat realized this, hence why he’d crowded you into an enclosed space. His clothing blended into the shadows pretty well, and when he stood in front of you like that, you were hidden from view pretty much completely.

Even as time went on, you didn’t get used to this. He was a stranger. Sure, he’d saved your life, but you’d only met him this morning. It felt strange to be this close to somebody you hardly knew. You supposed you’d have to get used to being close to him, though, since you’d somehow wound up partners. The day you’d had was just a rollercoaster that didn’t stop.

He shifted again, something on his utility belt pressing against your hipbone, making you try to adjust as well to avoid the feel of it digging into your skin. The Bat looked down at you, eyes hard, telling you to stay still, and you did, after reaching down to push the offending whatever-it-was away, your fingers brushing against his thigh in the process as you retracted your hand. He didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he hid it as well as he hid everything else.

You heard a burst of static from the police radio again, making you flinch, but the footsteps retreated until they were at the apartment’s door. He was gone. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “my fault.”

He said nothing as he moved back, allowing you to step away from the wall. Your cheeks were still warm, and you took a few deep breaths to calm yourself.

“What was it you needed to see?”

You sucked in a breath. If you were working together, you might as well tell him. “The killer left a calling card. A daisy, found at every crime scene. It could be anywhere in the room, but with mom, it was just beside her body. It wasn’t made public information to keep from creating copycat killers. I’m looking for that.”

The Bat nodded. “And if you don’t find it?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

And you hadn’t. But something in your gut told your this wasn’t some mere copycat killer. Call it intuition, or call it wishful thinking in your search for closure, you weren’t sure. But you were going to find out if your intuition was accurate or not.

You crossed the room, heading back to where you’d bumped the nightstand. You hadn’t really moved it much, maybe a few inches at most. It was barely noticeable, so you didn’t risk moving it back into place. Your hip still ached from where you’d clipped it on the corner of wood. It was undoubtedly going to leave a bruise. Yet another one to add to your growing collection.

I have to find it.

Even a petal would be helpful. Just to know that you could get that closure, and your mother could finally rest in peace. That she wouldn’t forever remain a cold case, and you wouldn’t always have those burning questions, and all that resentment brewing inside you. You stepped back, carding your good hand through your hair.

Something crunched under your boot. You quickly moved your foot, hoping you hadn’t accidentally trampled on evidence and it was just a stray pebble or something similar.

Oh.

Sweat beaded on your skin.

You’d stepped right onto the stem of a daisy.

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hansolmates · 3 years

Text

shiver | 10 (m)

banner by the lovely @dnrequests

summary; jungkook changed since he moved out of his small town church community and attended college. when he returns for a christmas mass, you suddenly crave a taste of his fun and carefree life. in exchange, jungkook craves a taste of you pairing; bad boy!jungkook x church girl!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers, coercion, brief childhood friends to enemies, fwb!au, catholic guilt, jungkook is a meanie who eventually turns into a soft tsundere, bicuriosity, sexual exploration, virgin!oc, eventual smut—in this installment, use of a remote-controlled vibrator, grinding w/c; 874 a/n; long time no see! again, i just love how this pairing goes from mature adult to snappy kids in .2 seconds. they’re so funny when they bicker and complain bahahah enjoy your weekend! [shiver masterpost]

“Tell me how you touch yourself, Bunny.”

You involuntarily clamp your legs together, eyes widening at his statement. He drums his fingers against your thighs, biting his lip in thought. He looks so attractive, strong legs taking up the wide end of your couch, his crotch hovering just below your knees.

Jungkook ended up returning to your apartment, under the guise that he was actually out of hair mask and needed to borrow yours. When he returned the little bottle to you, hair wet and clothes loose, he saw you simply sitting at the foot of your bed. Hands folded in front of you, legs tucked under your satin night skirt. What really took it over the edge was your eyes, glazed over as you watched the mindless reality TV show. Jungkook then blurted, “Want to try something?” and here you are.

“Left drawer,” you say simply, flickering your gaze to the tiny stand behind him.

Jungkook pulls the handle without even looking, keeping his gaze on you. His eyes are hypnotic, causing you to flush and your legs to clamp themselves together under his heated stare. Your calves knock onto Jungkook’s waist, and your eyes lower.

A gush of wetness escapes your core, further dampening your panties. Seeing Jungkook on your bed, ready to pleasure you, has you bleary with desire. The way your legs wrap around Jungkook’s waist, holding him in your grasp, turns you on more than you could ever believe.

“What? You’re looking at me funny,” he teases, rolling his eyes, “is this like, your thirteen-year-old self’s wet dream? Getting an orgasm from me?”

Okay, mood ruined.

“Give me that,” you snap, clenching your core so you can sit up and snatch the vibrator from his hands, “that’s disgusting to think about.”

“It happens to all growing teenagers—”

“Shut up!” you whine, flopping exasperatedly on your tiny twin bed. Your back hits the sharp point of your cheap throw pillow, “you’re so gross.”

“No, tell me,” he repeats, holding you down with a judge of his hand, “tell me what gets you going.”

“I don’t know, Jungkook,” you reply exasperatedly, “whenever I’m turned on, I just put the thing on high and get it over with.”

Jungkook’s head reels back slightly, as if he didn’t expect those words to come out of your mouth. “Get it over with?” he repeats, “like, as if it’s a chore.”

Hyperconscious, you clutch the sheets next to you, wrinkling the unmade bed further. Your eyes dart to the corner of your room, where the organza curtain seeps out the city lights, “My bedroom at home doesn’t have a lock. I was too scared to get caught.”

You close your eyes, trying to picture the horror on your parents faces at the thought of them catching you partaking in your own pleasure. Selfish, they’d call you. It makes you shrink in form, feeling sour and over-eager.

“Hey,” Jungkook snaps you out of your over-thinking, “come back to me.”

When you open your eyes, Jungkook looks at you with reverence. A moment of understanding. “Okay then,” Jungkook says quietly, despite the fact no one is in your apartment, “this is what’s going to happen. We’re going to find out what you like, together. I only have one rule though.”

“And what’s that?”

“Don’t hold back.”

Jungkook opens his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head of your vibrator. It’s a mini, perfect for you to hold and about the size of your hand. You watch with widened, baited eyes as the black silicone disappears in his mouth, bulging slightly at his cheek. When he pulls it out, it’s glistening in his saliva, a trail leading from Jungkook’s glossy lips.

His hand reaches under your skirt, pulls your panties down. He can’t see anything, but he looks at you in confirmation. Biting your lip, you nod eagerly. At that, Jungkook slips the vibrator between the cotton and your skin, finding the bud and angling it at the perfect spot. He clicks it on.

Your legs tremble immediately, your teary lashes fluttering like the wings on a butterfly. Jungkook uses his other hand to hold you down. You whimper, the long missed feeling of your bud being stroked to attention. You can’t help but shuffle yourself further, tightening around Jungkook as you grind against the toy. The slick feeling of your arousal and Jungkook’s saliva makes it extra wet and sloppy, and it feels so good.

“More, Bunny,” Jungkook hovers over you, his face centimeters from yours, “I want to hear you screaming. I want to hear you tell me it’s too much, too little, everything,” he clicks the vibrator to the next setting.

“Fuck, Jungkook!” you cry, fingers reaching for his wrist. You force his grip, pulling it closer to your core. You lift your butt up to shimmy out of your underwear, letting it fall to your knees as you let Jungkook rub the silicone up and down your slit.

“I’ve never heard you curse before,” Jungkook breaks apart from the facade briefly, lowering his head to nudge at your neck, “it’s cute.”

“Jungkook,” you moan, shoving his teasing under the rug as you wriggle beneath him, “make me cum.”

“As you wish.”

That night, Jungkook makes you cum three times. He also offers to wash your sheets.

#btsguild #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #bts smut #bts fic

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

Text

Full Mast - Part 2

Summary: Your idyllic life as a trophy wife of a rich lord is suddenly disturbed with the arrival of a pirate ship and a kidnapping that goes wrong... leaving you in the care of a band of pirates that seem to treat you better than your husband ever did.

Part 1,

Fandoms: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie, Mission Impossible: Fallout, Night Hunter, Hellraiser Hellworld

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Female Reader, August Walker x Reader, Walter Marshall x Reader, Mikey (Hellraiser) x Reader.

A/N: This is a CRACK FIC. After a brief discussion with @nuggsmum about the cheap romance novels that you could find in the 80′s and 90′s, i called upon the awful storylines, plot holes, and general cheesyness of those books that walked so fanfiction could run. Read the warnings please.

Storyboard note: The only artwork i could find that was suitable to show a Henry-like character included the woman seen above. I tried to crop as much of her out as possible, the story itself does not describe the female reader at all.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (F Recieving), Blowjobs, Multiple Blowjobs, Multiple Partners, Implied Age Gap (but never confirmed). Pretty Poly Pirates.

Only the finest organic free range typos for me, allowed to run wild and free.

Full Mast part 2

Standing in the grand cabin you took in your surroundings; the large table that was half covered in maps, the scattered chests and crates, the large four poster bed with messy linens. You wondered if the Captain had many other women between those sheets, or whether he kept his liaisons to his time on shore. At the mere thought of the man that had just taken your innocence you felt your stomach clench and another wave of arousal coat your already soaked petals.

A quiet knock at the door drew your attention, smiling when you saw Mikey come in pulling a large chest and setting it down in the middle of the room;

“So err… Captain says there should be some stuff in here that will be ok for you, so umm… help yourself Miss…”

“Thank you Mikey”

The young man must be at least 20 yet a blush covered his cheeks as you spoke to him, and with a nervous smile he nodded his head and left the room, half tripping on the rug as he did so before slamming the door shut.

Stripping out of your ruined clothing you saw a pitcher of water and a bowl on the side, using it to wash the Captain's seed from your thighs. Crossing the room in just your silk stockings you opened the chest and pulled out a number of items, gauging what would fit. Looking around you set the items onto the large bed, pulling the covers straight as you made your choice and a thought came to mind.

Sy stood outside his cabin, his hand hovering over the door handle. What had he gotten himself into? When he’d heard that his old friend Walter was having issues on the island, he’d set sail immediately and between the two of them and his right hand man Walter, they’d come up with a fool proof plan; kidnap the lord’s young trophy wife, demand not even a ransom - just what they were due, return her unharmed. Instead he ended up with another officer onboard, a woman on his ship that was said to bring bad luck, and the puzzle of what the hell to do with her now it had been made abundantly clear that her husband didn’t want her back. Taking a deep breath he entered the room, expecting the worst…

“Darlin?... Don’t be mad…”

He looked around the room, surprised that at first he wasn’t pelted with whatever wasn’t tied down, but when he couldn’t see you at all he frowned.

“Captain, over here…”

His jaw dropped when he saw you, kneeling on his bed, bare save for your stockings and a smile. Crossing the room he came to stand at the foot of the bed, licking his lips as his gaze traversed your naked body;

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes…I don’t know what i was expecting, but it wasn’t this…”

With a single finger he beconned you towards him, watching as you moved until you were up on your knees, his large hand at the back of your neck and you were kissing again, his glorious tongue exploring your mouth as your hands clung to his shirt. Deliberately falling back on the bed you pulled him with you, his mouth making its way to your breasts where he lavished each one with full mouthed kisses, his tongue laving over the hardened peaks before pressing a trail of kisses down your stomach before settled at the apex of your thighs;

“Gotta be the prettiest little Puss i’ve seen in a long time, bet you’re as sweet as a peach too…”

His tongue swiped a wide path through your folds, your fingers clawing at the sheets as his beard tickled you and he did to you things you’d only read about in the secretive books that were hidden in the depths of your husbands library.

“Oh Captain!” you gasped as his tongue dived into your soaked entrance, his nose rubbing at your sensitive clit and you could feel your stomach tightening with anticipation of the inevitable. Seemingly in no need of air he continued to work the thick muscle inside of you, driving you closer and closer to the pinnacle of pleasure until the point of no return was met and you came with a cry, your legs clamping around his head.

Finally he pulled himself free of your grasp, climbing up the bed until he was nestled between your thighs, his hardness pressing against your soaked core. Holding himself up on his strong arms he looked down at you beneath him;

“This time i’m gonna take my time and savour it…”

Your hands found their way to his breeches, unbuttoning him and gasping as his hot flesh sprung into your palm, heavy and weeping with need you guided him to your entrance. As he plunged into your depths the world seemed to fade around you; you’d had a taste of heaven and now you wanted more;

“You’re so big…”

“You want me to slow down Darlin?”

“No! It feels… so good…”

With practiced skill he rocked into you, slow but rough thrusts that had his length hitting a spot deep inside you’d had no idea that existed. The man had probably fucked his way around half of the Carribean but for a barely touched blossom as yourself he cherished the way your petals opened around him.

He continued to fuck you closer and closer to orgasm, feeling your body tighten around him and tremble, he slid a hand between your bodies and rubbed at your sensitive pearl, a grin spreading across his face as you came again with a shout of his rank;

“That’s a good girl, so fucking good… almost there…”

He quickly pulled out and spilled his seed over your stomach, watching as rope after rope of his creamy seed patterned your body, before he fell to your side, his chest heaving. Covering his eyes he let out a shaky breath;

“What the fuck have i gotten myself into…” He peeped out from between his fingers, smiling at you before pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, finally resting his forehead against yours; “Wait there a moment Darlin, i’ll get you cleaned up”

You’d dressed in front of your Captain, watching how he admired your choices from where he sat at the long table;

“Wasn’t expecting you to go for breeches…” he commented as you fastened the half length velvet garment, your stockings beneath the knee length trousers. A loose shirt with a wide leather belt fastening it at your waist was the only other garment you put on, standing in front of him and doing a little twirl; “Very nice… and practical”

“I spent ten years of my childhood aboard spice ships, running up ladders and rigging in skirts was a recipe for disaster.”

You crossed the room and sat across his lap;

“So, how is this going to work? You gonna drop me at the next port, leave me to my own devices? Wait until we’re in shark infested waters and throw me overboard?”

“What? Now why would i do that to a pretty little thing like you?”

“Well I know you didn’t end up with the outcome you were hoping for, and now you’re stuck with a ransomee that isn’t due any ransom”

He let out a sigh;

“I wouldn’t do that… it ain’t your fault your husband had the balls of a eunuch. No, i’m sure we can find a use for you, even if it’s just warming my bed… did you have an education?”

“Of sorts. Whenever we docked in Grace Bay i’d see a governess. I can speak spanish, french, and italian” you nodded to the maps spread over the table; “... and i can chart courses and know the currents of the Indies better than anyone that ever sailed on the spice route”

You gently stroked his beard;

“So Captain, what do you want me to do?”

“All of the above and more…” he stroked your cheek; “I won’t always be able to please you in bed, and from the signs of it you’ve got quite a carnal appetite...So, firstly you can call me Sy when its just us or the officers. When we’re on deck it’s Captain like everyone else. Secondly, if you want it, my officers could do with a bedmate, if you don’t mind sharing?”

Your eyebrows shot up so far you were surprised they didn’t meet your hair;

“Share me with your officers? Who…”

“There’s the Constable - who you’ll know from town - Walter Marshall, and the Armoury Officer - August Walker, and you’ve met Michael, he’s first mate”

“O-Okay”

“You’re alright with that?”

Stroking his beard you leant forwards and kissed him;

“Yes, yes I am. I’ve always wanted a little more adventure in my life, and now here it is”

“Well, you can be the one to decide when you want to go to the others, i’ll leave that move to you… i wont say anything yet”

“Thank you Sy, let's tell them Friday night. You can tell them.”

“Anything for my little Rose” he pressed his face to your neck and inhaled; “Still smell as sweet as that rose garden…”

“You can call me Rose if you like?”

“A new name for a new start?”

“Something like that” you grinned at him.

You’d spent four nights in the arms of Sy, some nights just falling asleep in each others arms, other’s you would fuck until dawn. That particular morning you’d taken him in your mouth and he’d taught you how to suck a man, working your tongue and lips over his hot flesh until he’d flooded your mouth with his thick salty seed. He’d held your jaw as he finished;

“Now be a good girl and swallow it”

You gulped down the mouthful before smiling;

“Tasty”

With a laugh he kissed you, before giving your naked ass a cheeky spank as he rolled out of bed;

“You gonna join me on deck?”

You stretched and sighed;

“I’m gonna try and find that earring i dropped when you had me bent over the table last night…”

Sy entered his cabin just as the ship’s cook was leaving, nodding to the meal he’d set out;

“Creole Stew tonight Cap’n, bread and ale like always”

“Thanks. Have you seen Rose?”

“No Sir”

Nodding Sy entered his cabin with a weary sigh, it had been a long day and all he really wanted to do was crawl into bed to sleep, grateful it was Friday which meant August took early watch on deck the next day, but he had dinner with the other officers and he hadn’t seen you for the last few hours, last he knew you were still on the hunt for your lost earring. Leaving the door ajar he sat at the table and started to eat, moments later Walter and August joining him.

“Where’s the others?” Walter asked as he sat, helping himself to a large chunk of bread

“Mikey is in the crows nest, he’ll be down shortly” August confirmed; “Haven’t seen Rose for a while though”

“Rose?”

“Sy’s bit of fluff. Decided as its a new start onboard she may as well choose a new name. Apparently its because Sy say’s she smells of Roses”

Walter snorted out a low laugh;

“She’s gonna be smelling of Sy sooner or later”

Sy listened to his two oldest friends banter back and forth, unaware of the surprise he was about to get. Hearing quick footfalls coming along the corridor he looked up to see Mikey at the doorway just as two soft hands pressed to his thighs from beneath the table. He nodded to Mikey to take a seat, before leaning back and peering down to his lap, hiding his surprise when he saw you on your knees beneath the table, hidden from the view of the rest of the party by the many overhanging maps and the low candle light.

Grabbing a chunk of bread he stayed leaning back but parted his thighs wide, wide enough to allow you to unfasten him and pump his hardening length and slip him into your mouth.

“Dig in boys, its gonna be a spicy meal tonight!”

As you worked quickly with your new found skills, sucking on the bulbous head as you fondled his heavy ballsack with your free hand, working quickly and silently as the men above you talked amongst themselves. You could feel Sy’s leg start to tremble, his hand sliding beneath the table to hold your head in place, and as you relaxed your jaw you felt his hot seed flood your mouth.

“WOO!” he exclaimed above you; “This stew is HOT!”

He took a deep breath and slapped his hand on the table with a laugh, before you tucked him carefully back into his breeches and you continued with your plan.

“Sy, we need to consider restocking the armoury” August started; “Scuttling the boats used up a lot of ammunitionnnnnnnnn”

Sy looked up and smirked, August looking at him wide eyed but recovering quickly, clearing his throat;

“Anyway as i was saying… umm... wow, the stew… the spice really hits after a while doesn’t it…”

August scrunched his face and rested his hand on his fist, before grabbing his tankard of ale and taking a large gulp, some of it spilling from the sides of his mouth as he spluttered on the liquid that did only a little to hide the groan. Sy shovelled another mouthful of stew into his mouth to hide his grin as August sat back in his chair, a half glare on his face.

Walter frowned at both of the older men;

“I have no idea what you two are on about, this stew is fine”

August wiped the slight sheen of sweat from his brow, before finally sitting straight and digging back into his meal;

“Walt, just wait, it takes a while to hit you but when it does… ooooh boy it takes your breath away”

The big bear of a man frowned and shovelled another mouthful in, before his eyes went wide. Swallowing awkwardly he nodded, shifting in his seat;

“Oh… oh yeah… its hitting… wow, its a good burn, ya know…” taking a leaf out of August’s book he grabbed his tankard, taking a gulp as he fidgeted in his seat, both Sy and August doing poor jobs of hiding their smirks, whereas Mikey was sat at the far end of the table without the slightest clue as to what was going on;

“Seriously? You guys must be getting old, this stew ain’t spicy”

Sy raised his tankard to his son and grinned;

“Just wait, it’ll hit ya… anyway, i got an announcement to make”

The three other men looked at Sy, Walter’s gaze faltering now and again as his focal point seemed to change, but he shifted in his seat and leaned his elbow against the armrest of his chair, his hand sliding beneath the table as he muttered about ‘cramp’, when in fact his large hand was holding your head in place as he pushed deeper into your throat. Sy cleared his throat and continued;

“We all know the events at the island did not go to plan. We’re down on funds and supplies, and we’ve increased the crew numbers with those that helped with the land mutiny… we’ve also of course got Rose to consider, she never asked for any of this, but we have come up with a solution of sorts”

“I think i might know what that solution could be” Walter panted out, his face contorting into something that resembled a grimace as he muttered about spiciness and cramps again before with a sigh a smile spread across his face; “Ooooh that’s it… the cramps are going…”

“Anyway” Sy interjected with a wry smile; “Rose can speak numerous languages, can read and chart maps, she’s probably the best educated of everyone on the ship”

Just then Mikey squeaked and jumped in his chair, a thud sounding beneath the table;

“S-s-sorry... my knee hit the table”

Sy nodded with a smile;

“No problem Son, carry on. So Rose will also be here for other duties, but only for the officers at this table tonight” he paused; “And i think you all now know what those duties will be”

August nodded as he eagerly mopped up the last remaining morsels of his stew with a chunk of bread;

“That sounds a fucking brilliant idea Sy. She has the greatest tits...” at that moment Mikey let out a groan and his head thudded against the high back of his chair; “... and i think we all now know she’s got a fucking brilliant mouth on her”

There was little point in denying what had just happened, the very fact it was still going on and Mikey had so little control of his reactions as you were sucking his meaty dick, having just done the same to the other three men in the room from the darkness under the table. In fact the three older men started to chat away candidly as you lavished Mikey’s beautiful cock with your tongue, before taking him in hand to move your mouth down to his tight ballsack to suck on the warm globes. His athletic thighs had parted enough for you to get much closer than you had done with the other three men - all of whom had thighs that could crush a coconut - and it meant that the top of your head could now be seen in his lap by the other men.

“Grab her hair Mikey” August shouted from behind his refilled tankard; “Get deep down in her throat, its fucking amazing, feels like she’ll suck your soul out of your dick”

You felt Mikey's hands curl into your hair, holding your head in place as he started to rock his hips up, filling your mouth and throat. Gripping hard to his thighs you could feel him start to tremble, preparing yourself for the flood of seed and as he came with a cry, looking down at you as you stared back with wide innocent eyes that completely ruined him.

Finally he released his grip on you, and as you looked down you smiled at what came into view. Seconds later you were climbing out from beneath the table, turning to smile at the rest of the men as you fastened the earring to your lobe;

“Look Sy, i found my earring!”

Walking around the table you took the tankard of ale that August held out for you with a smile, before sitting across Sy’s lap;

“I think they like the idea”

Sy looked at the men around the table, his trusted friends and family and smiled;

“I think they do, my sweet Rose”

He clinked his tankard to yours and you both drank, the joyous laughter filling the room as the night continued.

__________________________________________________________

I do not run a tag list. Instead please visit @angryschnauzerwrites and follow that blog and put it onto notifications. You will then get an alert when i post new stories.

Masterlist can be found on AO3, link here.

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archangelgabriellives · 3 years

Text

Rich Appreciation 2020, Day 7

Fandom: Driven

Word Count: 1170

Pairings: Roger x Reader (platonic)

A/N: Holy shit i did it. A year and a half after I started this fic, I have finished it. This is a huge deal for me. You have no idea. I'm so proud of myself for finishing this thing! 😊 I know that nothing happens in the last few chapters but I'm just so happy its done. I hope you liked reading this funky little story

<- Chapter 6

Chapter 7: Hospital AU

The sun still hadn't risen by the time Roger and Y/N were up and moving. Roger had been apologetic about his sleep cycle, saying that with hunting demons, sleeping in was a luxury he couldn't usually afford. Y/N had only grumbled nonsense as she shuffled into the bathroom.

As they checked out, Y/N was nervous. She found herself staring at the lone hotel clerk, waiting for the eyes to flash black, for a wild swing of a knife or a punch. Roger, having noticed her anxiety building back in the room, and had given her a vile of salt to keep in her pocket, and Y/N held onto it like a lifeline.

She clutched it tight, lid open and ready to send it flying at a moment's notice. The poor clerk only raised an eyebrow at Y/N’s death stare as he passed Roger’s change back to him. There was no attack, and after a quick apology from Roger, he was pushing Y/N out the door.

“Bit testy, there, Rambo?” Roger laughed, slapping Y/N on her good shoulder.

Y/N scoffed, “Well, can you blame me?” She shook her head. “It’s gonna take me forever to forget yesterday.”

“Don’t worry about it too much,” Roger said as he took her arm in his, elbows locked together as they walked down the empty sidewalk, their shadows long in the streetlamp light. “Those demons,” Roger leaned close with a smirk, “for lack of a better term…”

Y/N rolled her eyes and chuckled.

“They never stay in one area too long. I think that they’ll all be out of town soon. Same for me,” Roger uttered. “I have to follow where they lead, until I fix what my family broke.” He rummaged in the pocket of his long overcoat, pulling out a folded piece of paper. “This is a protection symbol. They really hate it. Paint it on the floor and hide it under a rug. It’ll do the job if they ever come back.”

“Thanks,” Y/N said softly as she took the paper. She snuck a peak, not understanding any of the symbols that encircled the paper but truly thankful for what Roger had given her. She put the paper in her pocket, and exchanged a look with the man that Y/N hoped portrayed the gratitude that she felt. “So, what are you gonna do now?”

“Well,” Roger sighed dramatically, “first thing is we need to get you some real care. Not that my immaculate stitching isn't something to behold.”

“Yeah, you can do amazing things with mint dental floss,” Y/N joked.

“Mmm hmm,” Roger agreed with the jab and continued on. “There’s a walk-in clinic a few blocks away. It’s 24 hours, so we should definitely get you in there.”

Y/N agreed, nodding her head as they walked. “What about you?”

Roger only shrugged his shoulders. The light smile faded from Y/N’s face, and the two of them walked on in silence as the sun slowly rose over the horizon.

---

The two stood just outside the clinic, the sounds of the morning rolling around them.

Y/N shuffled on her feet, not quite sure how to walk away from the man who had helped her so much in the past 12 hours.

“Do you need me to come in with you?” Roger asked, breaking the awkward silence between them.

Y/N opened her mouth, closing it again without saying anything. She hummed in her throat, not entirely sure she knew how to answer that question. “Umm…” she hesitated, “well...I’m sure I'll be ok.”

“Ok,” Roger nodded, clearly thinking that Y/N still had some anxiety about walking away.

Y/N sucked in through her teeth. “So…”

“Yep.” Roger kicked a small pebble by his foot, and another moment of clumsy silence passed between them.

“I guess...I'll head in then.” After a quick second to think about it, Y/N stepped close, and placed a gentle kiss on Roger’s bearded cheek. “Thanks,” she said, pure gratitude sparkling in her eyes. Y/N smiled as she saw the pink tinge of embarrassment spread over Roger’s face.

“For what?” Roger asked, a little taken aback as he lifted a hand to his cheek. “I didn't do anything special.”

Y/N’s smile shifted to something a little more knowing, brows rising in almost a teasing challenge. “Bye, Roger,” she said. “I’ll see you around.”

She turned on her heels, heading toward the automatic doors.

“Under better circumstances,” Roger called after her. He gave her a small wave when she turned to send him one last goodbye salute with her good arm. He adjusted his bag on his arm, then with one last sigh as Y/N disappeared behind the double doors, turned south and started walking. There were demons to stop, and Roger had no time to rest his feet.

---

Despite the early hour, Y/N noticed a lot of hustle and bustle in the clinic lobby. A few groups of sad looking people sat in cheap chairs, coughs and quiet murmurs filling the room. Nurses walked from between double doors that led to the exam rooms. There was even a tall doctor speaking to a worried couple in the corner.

“Excuse me,” Y/N spoke quietly as she walked up to the nurse typing behind the front desk, some 70’s classic rock playing on a small desktop stereo playing beside her. “I think I need to see a doctor.”

Without even lifting her eyes, the nurse fell into a well rehearsed script. She pulled out a clipboard with a few preplaced pieces of paper. “Fill out these forms,” the nurse wearily spoke, handing the clipboard over the polished countertop. “We’ll call you when the doctor is ready to see you.”

Y/N reached out with her good hand to grab the offered paperwork, and when her fingers touched the clipboard, a shock of electricity caused her to drop the offered board, and the nurse behind the counter hissed like she had been burned by a flame, eyes wide with surprise. After a second of the two of them staring in shock at the other, the nurse’s face fell from surprise into a look of sick elation.

She laughed, a vile, disgusting sound that echoed in Y/N’s ears.

“Oh, this is too perfect,” the nurse spat, a twisted smirk slipping into place with ease.

Y/N stood there motionless, her stomach falling into her feet and her mind going blank.

With a quiet shink, the whites of the nurse’s eyes flicked black. Only with her newfound instinct, Y/N found herself reaching into her coat pocket, pulling out her only weapon of defense, the small vial of salt that Roger had given her back at the hotel.

“Well now,” the nurse growled, obviously not afraid of the one thing that could save Y/N. The demon's smile held a promise of more pain to come for Y/N. “I think a room just opened up for you.”

#richard speight jr #driven #support driven #roger x reader #its donr #i finished a fic!!!

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kickingitwithkirk · 3 years

Text

I’m Not Clean

Paring: Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Reader

Word Count: 1948

Warnings: A/B/O, angst, verbal fighting, cursing, cheating, oral sex, p/v sex

A/N: for @jawritter #jensmakemecrychallange

A/N II: Set between mid season six-starts after Death puts Sam’s soul back-ending before the last Trial in season eight. Told from Sam’s POV alternating between present and past memories/ events. Some altering of events to fit story line. Prompt in Bold.

*no beta, all mistakes are mine.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I chant this mantra over and over to myself.

I was drunk before leaving, roaring out of the garage in Baby, leaving the stench of burning rubber and exhaust in my wake.

We’ve had some hell raising fights over the years. This one tonight the vilest we have ever had, saying the most unforgiving things to each other because you broke our agreement.

What we said...our knowledge of each other’s weakest points to abuse, verbally cutting into each other in the deepest manner, inflicting as much carnage as possible.

The only other person in the universe who knows how to hit me that hard is my brother. Man, how we’ve done that dance too, over and over yet somehow always finding our way back to each other.

My brother tried to intervene, to stop us from saying the things we can never take back or forgive. It felt as if he was taking your side, I went after him as well.

I feel the need to punish myself for all the pain I have caused. I am always creating pain, torching those I love.

I found her at the dive bar, a few days out from her heat.

She is my punishment.

We go to a nearby dump. I close the door and she's already on her knees, my jeans zippers down, pulling me out and starts licking up the underside of my cock, making gagging noises trying to deepthroat me. My head thunks against the door and all I can think is that she’s not you.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I remember like it was yesterday. We ended up at Bobby’s after cleaning out a vamp nest two states over.

Grabbing our duffels we didn’t rock, paper, scissors over who got the spare bed, my brother just face plants on the couch, unconscious before I’m even at the foot of the staircase.

I wearily make my way upstairs not bothering to shower in spite of how bad I smell, too exhausted to care. I toed off my boots and socks, throwing my blood encrusted shirt and jeans in the corner, collapsing face down on the bed, landing on top of something under the covers.

Why am I staring at the ceiling?

My brother barrel's in, woken by the sound of my body hitting the floor, stopping in the doorway with his gun drawn looking for what attacked me...this confused look crossed his face as the scent of fear flooded the room.

I sit up gazing over the bed as you huddle in the corner looking scared to death. My brother puts his gun back in his waistband, hands up with his on display to show he’s no threat.

I slowly got to my feet and came around the bed towards you. You shrink even further in the corner, pulling into yourself as tight as you can, hiding behind your arms and drawn up knees.

I stop and sit down trying to not appear threatening and speak softly to you.

“I’m sorry I scared you, we’re friends of Bobby’s. He didn’t tell us you were here. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You're so still, all I can see is your beautiful eyes moving between us, the only movement you are able to do.

My brother gives a small smile before going back downstairs to the couch, giving you space to calm down. I stay on the floor, my back propped against the bed talking.

It’s a one sided conversation but that’s ok.

Bobby’s back just after daybreak found us still in the same positions on the floor asleep.

“Balls!”

You spring from the corner and bury yourself in his arms. Seeing that Bobby has you I grab my stuff and head for a shower. My brothers just came out from taking his. I strip and climb in turning on the water.

Fucker used all the hot water.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I don’t want to be touching her now, or her touching me, my self loathing rising like the bile in my throat but my body has a mind of its own tonight as my brain turns off given into my Alpha.

I grab her hair, yanking her off my dick with an audible pop, saliva and precome running down her chin, adding another stain to the discolored rug. I pull her up, tossing her onto the bed before dragging her back to the edge, the barely there skirt rides up out of the way as I lave my tongue up her uncovered thighs, swirling it through her dripping folds. Roughly inserting several fingers into her tight cunt I start sucking on her clit as she grabs my hair soaking my face with her slick as she cums.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

The smell of coffee calls to my still fuzzy brain as I staggered downstairs to the kitchen. My brother and Bobby are at the table talking. As I pour a cup you walk in from the porch.

I turn towards you, finally able to scent you without the terror that clouded the room last night.

Are you a classic beauty? No, but you beguile me.

I’m enamored with your beautiful eyes, recalling the way they never left mine last night. You’re taller than I expected, curvaceous, not delicate like others I have been with.

As you hold my gaze I remember the verbal platitudes, reading the drivel, even watched some of the bathetic romance movies but they could never fully articulate this feeling. It de-queues through me, permeates my soul.

My brother relentlessly teases that I am having a chick-flick moment.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

She wobbly moves onto her hands and knees, I climb on the bed behind her and ram my engorged cock into her sodden cunt as far as she can take me mindlessly pounding. I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing enough to stop the incoherent noises escaping from her mouth that grate against me.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

We ended up staying at Bobby’s for a couple of weeks, it was quiet and I wasn’t in any hurry to leave you.

Bobby explained to us how you ended up here over a bottle of whiskey late one night.

Jo found you bruised and bleeding, huddled in the door jam out back of Harvelle's Roadhouse. You had been injured by your pack for defying them. Ellen of course took you in.

The pack came looking for you, trailing your scent to the bar. Ellen’s shotgun and don’t fuck with me attitude convinced them you had left but she knew it wasn’t safe for you to stay, your pack would be watching.

Smuggling you out of the bar proved harder than anyone thought. There were multiple hand offs among hunters traveling along the way, finally delivering you to Bobby Singer's home days later.

For the first time in your life, you were safe.

We took our time getting to know each other, I had to work harder than I ever have with anyone before to gain your trust.

After my brother and I caught a case, I would call you every day and matter the time, you answered. We would talk for hours, share what we had been doing that day, finding our mutual interests in a variety of subjects coming to light.

My brother would yell for me to get off the damn phone, I was keeping him awake, even though I’m sitting outside the motel room.

Then things got out of control.

Castiel broke the wall and died. Leviathans were anyone and everywhere, finally imitating us.

We became America’s Most Wanted. Bobby sent us to a man named Frank who owned him a big favor and made us disappear.

We found Bobby’s burned down house and almost got killed ourselves.

Then Bobby showed up at the hospital to break us out, informing me you were safe, hidden at a long forgotten hunters cabin.

We managed to stay in contact, I needed that, to know you were staying safe before being able to sleep at night.

The first fight happened in the hospital, blaming us for losing Bobby.

Then Dick and Purgatory.

And a lost year.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I pulled out of her relieved my knot had finally deflated enough to release me. Collapsing onto my back I fling my arm over my eyes disgusted with myself as she’s curling into my side literally purring.

I’ve repeatedly used her...in this bed of sin I created...I’ve lost control...not the first time.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

It’s never quiet for long in our lives. Castiel mysteriously returns and Kevin Tran sort of deciphers the demon tablet, how through three trials we can close the Gates of Hell and seal away so much evil if we survive the First Trial- kill a Hell hound.

While on another case we met our grandfather Henry Winchester of The Men of Letters and inherit the key to the Bunker. We have a home of sorts and I finally have a safe place for you, for us to be together. A few months after moving in, before the Second Trial-rescuing a innocent from Hell, and your heat, I made a decision that saddened both of us but with our lives was necessary and allowed me finally to make you mine forever.

Right before finding out about the Third Trial I found the test hidden in a drawer and my diminishing mind bounces between being petrified and elated. I sat there downing a bottle of whiskey from my brother's copious stash waiting for your return and upon seeing you all the alcohol in my degenerating body gave me permission to release my pent up fury and paranoia, ending in that cheap room with her.

~~I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean I’m Not Clean~~

I made my way back to the Bunker to find my brother sitting in the War Room waiting on me. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of her all over me but said nothing as I handed over the car keys pocketing them. His eyes shifted to a chair and I apprehensively sat down awaiting the bombardment he would unleash. He remains quiet as he turns the open laptop towards me. I blink a few times to focus on the screen, reading the online article from a national news agency about the contraceptive failure. I’m in disbelief when he slides your phone in front of me and plays the voicemail from your doctor.

I get up swaying from a nonexistent breeze slowly walking the halls till I’m standing outside our bedroom door. I can scent your sadness from outside the closed door causing me to freeze holding the knob, unable to summon up the courage to turn it when it disappears from my hand finding you instead. You move allowing me to enter, shutting the door as I sit on the edge of the bed before crossing over, moving to stand directly in front of me. I don’t know how you can do that with the smell of every wrong I’ve done clinging to my skin polluting us.

I feel your hands cradling my face softly telling me Grown men don't cry as your fingers track the tears coursing uninhibitedly down my cheeks.

I completely collapse wrapping my arms around your waist resting my forehead against the special place where our pup is, undeserving of your love that’s purifying me in ways the trials never will.

tagging: SPN @donnaintx

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

#jensmakemecrychallange #alpha!sam Winchester x omega!reader #alpha!sam winchester #Sam Winchester #SPN Supernatural #SUPERNATURAL AU #supernatural a/b/o #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural reader insert #angst

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insufferablelust · 4 years

Note

Hey I was wondering if you could do something cute with Spencer (earlier seasons) where reader (BAU) is really small and sweet in general but can outdrink anyone and he’s just like ‘how r u not dead???’ when the team all go out for drinks :))

hi angel! thank you for requesting this, i love the idea and you’ll see the result soon, but anyway yeah.. i might... gone a bit over with this one.. and i changed the story a bit i hope thats okay. Happy reading❤️

Sorry for grammatical errors!

SUPER FLUFF AND DRUNK-NESS!!

It was around 6 pm when the jet landed safely in Virginia, the team has just wrapped up a particularly gruesome complex case that left them exhausted but relieved nonetheless because they’ve caught the unsub. When they walked into the bullpen, they immediately saw Garcia sniffles as stepped out of her lair to hug each and every one of you— especially tighter around you, since you’re just so tiny and ‘hugable’ she said one time, in which you chuckled and return the hug as tight. “hey it’s alright, we’re okay. It’s over.” you whispered, knowing full well how much these cases could affect her, and she smiled warmly as she muttered a small “thank you (y/l/n)”

As everyone settled to write down some paperwork from the case files, Rossi abruptly stood before suggesting that you guys should celebrate the success you achieved today, Morgan was the first one to jump into the opportunity- hurriedly stacking his papers on his desk before dragging prentiss out of her chair “okay now c’mon, everyone— hey Reid! (Y/n)! Yes- you genius geeks will be there or you’re not scared are you einsteins?” the cheap threat causes a burst of laughter amongst the team including from Aaron, while you felt the warmth creeping up on your cheeks.

You see you rarely attended the ‘after celebration’ party they held, unless its in Rossi’s place, now that one you can’t pass up because Italian foods! but in all seriousness, it’s not that you don’t want to be with your teammates, it’s just that you’ve always been the life of the party ever since you were a teenager. Your friend Samantha used to called you out on your gift, of the ability to drink without a single trace of being drunk despite you being tiny, now that wouldn’t usually be a problem but things change when you have a major crush on your coworker, Dr. Reid.

If someone asked, what is it that draws you into Spencer? you could probably list more than 100 things. Ever since you joined, you and spencer immediately clicks, maybe because you both have a lot in common. From the way you love the same movies, types of books, and even have similar philosophical views- hence the nicknames that your teammates has given you both, Duo geek geniuses or Mr and Mrs. Einstein, lastly your favorite is Dr. and Mrs. Reid due to your similarities. You may never admit it, but every time Derek would use that one particular name, your heart feels like it may burst at any second. In conclusion, You’re whipped and you hesitated on him finding out just how wild you can be.

But before your better judgment can come to view, your smugness get the best of you. Standing straight, arms folded across your chest as you stare into derek’s eyes “We’ll see who passes out first, ‘chocolate thunder’” you replied, earning claps from your teammates including spencer whose smile is as wise as you can possibly imagine. what can you say? (Y/n) (Y/l/n) never backs out from a challenge.

Few hours later they arrived at a local bar near the building, (y/n) managed to yet again sit beside Spencer on a private booth, to her left is Prentiss, followed by Rossi, Morgan, JJ, then Penelope. Aaron needed to come home because Jack needs his father, (so that left the bau kids without their dad). As they chatter for a bit, your hand turned to look at Spencer, immediately noticing the slight uncomfortableness plastered on his face.

You ran your palm on his shirt covered arms, smiling gently “Hey, are you okay? do you wanna get out of here?” Spencer could tell that you’re being genuine, and caring which made his heart burst. “No, i’m okay (y/n) bars aren’t really my thing” He nervously giggles, scrunched up his nose and looked back at you. “Okay just let me know, spence” You patted his chest twice before returning to listen to the others.

Garcia had ordered shots for you to all drink, when it arrived your eyes widened at the sight of way too many shot glass filled with.. vodka you presumed, and 2 glass of coke and one glass of water. Everyone just stared back and forth between the drinks and garcia, which she replied with a “you guys said its a celebration” and before anyone can argue, morgan interrupts “Its okay babygirl, as i remembered that our sweet genius little miss (y/n) here have promised us she would drink tonight, and lots of it” his eyebrows are twitched as you lick your lips before leaning forward to take down the first shot.

“bring it on”

as it reached 12 AM all of the team has drown at least 3 shots, whilst you and Morgan’s count is higher than that. You heard a loud chuckle coming from your right as you gulped down a glass of water, turning to your side you can see spencer nursing his glass of coke that seemingly still full.

“Okay, who are you and what have you done to my sweet (Y/n)?” He said with a laugh, the straws that hang from his lips made your breath hitched and your fingers gripped the glass tightly at the sound of My sweet (Y/n). You composed yourself before mumbling,

“Hey thats not nicee! i’m right here still the same, what? you don’t love me when i’m drunk?” and if you think that doesn’t effect every neurons in his system then you’re dead wrong because Spencer would’ve done anything to just squeeze you tight in his arms and hold you close while listening to your slightly drunken rambles. “No, god no angel. What i meant is that, i was just not expecting this side of you, i mean look around, you outdrank everyone— how are you not dead yet?” his voice is borderline high pitched but also rugged, which made you instantly blush, looking down before glancing at your drunk coworkers, giggling at the sight of them.

Rossi had left few moments ago if your memory is right, Will picked up JJ and a very drunk Penelope home, whilst Prentiss took a very very drunk half-passed-out-Morgan. After saying your mocking goodbyes, you and spencer stared at each other. Your gaze is drunk yet lovingly genuine, Spencer’s figure tower over you as he tucked some of your fallen hair behind your ears and smiles.

“How about i take you home?” He offered, which earned a small disappointment filled whined from you at the loss of his touch. Your eyes widen, hoping he didn’t hear that but of course he did and immediately wrapped his arms around your shoulder, keeping her warm by his side as he walked them both to her car.

“You’re awfully cuddly when you are drunk (y/n) this is the drunk you i thought i was going to see” he opened the passenger door for you, before slide into the driver seat and started driving. “well i’m sorry that you didn’t like this side of me i thought—“ before you continue to ramble your drunk thoughts out, Spencer reached to softly grip your hand in his and let out a breathy laugh,

“No! (Y/n) thats not what i meant, i mean- i always like you, i’ve always liked you since the beginning no matter how many sides you have on you, you’re smart, and funny, and you understand me- thats why i like you so don’t think for a second that i didn’t like you then, especially when you beat Morgan’s ass off” He rambles as you dreamily stare into him, half hearing what he said, before he freezes, and realized what he had said or basically confessed.

“hey uh-“

“uh huh, i like you too, Spencer reid”

“We’ll try again tomorrow when you’re sober”

“I’m pretty sure, my feelings will still be the same.”

“Mine too.”

————————

I KNOW THIS IS WAY TOO LONG TO BE CONSIDERED AS A BLURB IM SORRY SHJSKS ANYWAYS ENJOY AND SEND ME REQUESTS THANK YOU!!

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer x reader #insufferableblurb #spencer reid blurbs #spencer reid blurb #spencer x y/n

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the-fiction-witch · 2 years

Text

Discussion

TV SHOW THE QUEENS GAMBIT

COUPLE BENNY WATTS X READER

RATING SWEET

I stood as I often did beside the area folding a thousand of the same green, black, and grey shirts, black and blue jeans and various boxer shorts from our laundry and of course my clothes too. I looked over across our little basement apartment spotting Benny sat in his battered leather chair sitting under the little light, his mess of hair out of place where he'd showered and just let it dry naturally, his black t shirt hugging him, his chains across his chest, his hand on his chin as he focused intently on the book in his hand, his jeans tight as usual his belt somewhere I didn't know his bare feet sat on our cold basement floor.

"Benny?" I asked as I folded one of his grey shirts

"Ummmm?" He groans not even looking up from his book

"Can I ask you something?"

"One minute" he says still not looking up, I waited a minute or so and he put his bookmark in the page shutting the book up "what's up pumpkin?"

"May I be rude?"

"I think so. You have only got three of those left this month but fire away"

"Why do you dress like a goth cowboy?"

"I don't know" he shrugs

"Benny, come on"

"I do not like spending alot of money on clothes so most of what I wear is hand me down stuff or just stuff I got cheap" he explained "I kinda just thought my style was chess themed really"

"Kinda. That's why we have a chess board rug and bedding"

"To be fair I didn't buy that bedding you bought that bedding when you moved in with me"

"It fit the aesthetic"

"... Yes. I have been dating you six years and I still don't know what that word means"

"I like using words you don't understand, makes me feel smart."

"Your smart pumpkin. I would not have dated you if you were an idiot"

"No?"

"I don't like the blank girls there useless, your basically dating a doll up doll with a voice box who takes your money"

"I think it has something to do with upbringing" I said as I returned my focus to the laundry

"What does?"

"The way you dress. Was your dad a cowboy and your mum a goth?" I asked

".... No. Other way around actually"

"Really?"

"Yeah, my mum grew up on a farm in maine my dad was a new york city bar owner who hosted pagan covens every other Tuesday"

"Hu. Cowgirl and a goth man. That does explain you… way more than it should to be honest Benny" I giggled taking the laundry to our bedroom "you were kinda scary when we first met"

"How so?" He asks following me to the bedroom

"You turned up to our first date in black boots, black jeans, a green button down, black trench coat, a knife and a cowboy hat."

"Yeah? It's my second favorite outfit?"

"To a blind date in a new york and you wonder why I was a little scared?"

"I wasn't gonna murder you."

"Thank you Benny very reassuring" I giggled "why did you bring a knife on our first date?"

"Incase I needed it" he says helping with the laundry as I had been putting all his clothes just in a pile for him "and it's a conversation starter"

"And then taking said date back to your serial killer basement apartment"

"Okay I admit it was kinda serial killer ish. Before you moved in"

"I un serial killered the place" I giggled

"You added a lovely ladies touch. And I'm sure you will to wherever we get moved too"

"Of we can find somewhere we agreed on"

"All I said Is I want an on suite and a driveway that can't be that hard"

"You'd be surprised when you refuse to live outside of new york, and what is your obsession with on suites Benny?"

"A having a shower in a living room is fun now because I get to watch you shower but it's impractical"

"And so unsanitary"

"B our bedroom is here, the toilet is over there in that room. You can tell you have never attempted to walk that distance at three am with an erection"

"Like the time you tripped on the box for the bookshelf you hadn't put together yet and ended up breaking that bone in your foot"

"Precisely. That and then we have a nice little space that's all ours especially after… you know"

"After what?"

"After..." he smirked, giving me a cuddle "we get married and have a little baby girl."

"Not till we've moved Benny"

"I know pumpkin" he says, kissing my cheek "coffee?"

"Yeah alright," I smiled so he went making come coffee and I gathered up the laundry on the floor into my basket I just emptied being quick as he was distracted to steal his kimono slipping it in my basket and heading to the Machine "when we move can I have a kitten?"

"No. We've talked about this it'll knock my chess stuff over" he explained as I loaded the machine

"What about a puppy?"

"Will you walk it everyday?"

"We will walk it everyday. Together. Maybe while we push a pram too"

"And what do we do with the puppy when we need to fly to France or new mexico?"

"... Dog sitter?"

"Nope"

"What about a fish?"

"I'm not paying for food and tank maintenance for a damn decoration"

"A hamster?"

"There nocturnal so you'll never see it"

"A bunny?"

"Maybe. I'll think about it pumpkin. What are you doing?" He stopped noticing what I was doing instantly stealing his kimono back before I could put it on the machine

"Benny. You have to let me wash it at some point. I haven't washed it in three months."

"It's not dirty?"

"You dropped coffee on it yesterday"

"So?"

"You walk around naked in it"

"So?"

"It was laid on our bed and we had sex on it the other night"

"It's not dirty"

"Benny you either hand me that to put it in the washing machine or I throw you and it on the bathtub and wash you by hand"

"Maybe I want my little girlfriend to give me a nice bath"

"This would not be sexy. It would be functional"

"Your mean to me" he pouts handing it over

"Because I love you" I smiled giving him a kiss

"Love you too pumpkin"

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madpanda75 · 4 years

Text

“Taking Chances Part 9: Love, Tequila, and Ice Cream”

And we’re back!!!!! So to give you a brief recap, Rafael and the reader left the Carisi house in a huff after the reader gave Sonny “the slap heard around the world.” Find out what happens next in this latest chapter. Words are said, sexy times happen. It’s fluffy, smutty fun....for now 😉💕

NSFW: Sex by the fireplace! Can ya’ dig it??? 😜💥🔥

Rafael adjusted his grip on the steering wheel as he drove across the Verrazano Bridge. Occasionally he would glance over at you sitting in the passenger seat with your head down and your hands gently folded in your lap.

Rafael cleared his throat. “So should we go to my place or yours?”

You grunted out a monotone syllable in response.

“Ok, your place it is,” he said with a sigh, turning on the blinker and making a right turn towards your apartment.

Once back at your place, you immediately went to the living room and started a fire. Your apartment may have been a shoebox, but the wood burning fireplace was a definite perk. When you first moved in, the notion of a struggling artist pouring her heart and soul onto the canvas beside a roaring fire seemed romantic and bohemian.

While you stroked the flames to life, Rafael stood there with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Cold night, huh?” He inwardly cringed at having been reduced to commenting on the weather.

“Mmhmm,” you replied.

“Two syllables. That’s progress,” he thought. Maybe by the end of the night, you would utter an actual word. After several minutes of deafening silence, he made yet another feeble attempt at conversation. “Your mom is a wonderful cook.”

“Hmmm,” you grunted.

“That’s it. I can’t take it anymore.” Rafael crouched down next to you and took your face in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were still shiny with tears, your nose bright red.

It was the first time since leaving your parents’ house that you had looked at him or even acknowledged his presence apart from the occasional mumble. “I know this afternoon was a complete disaster, but I can’t take this anymore. Please say something. Anything.”

Your bottom lip quivered before blurting out, “He cheated on me!” As soon as the words escaped your lips, you crumbled into a heap on the floor, sobbing.

Rafael gathered you into his arms, running his hands through your hair, rocking back and forth. You clung to him, wetting his brand new Tom Ford dress shirt. But neither of you could care less. After all, he knew what it was like to be betrayed. Once you calmed down, he asked, “So tequila or ice cream?”

“Both,” you replied with a hiccup and a very loud unladylike sniffle.

Rafael got up and walked over to your kitchen to grab the bottle of Tequila Ocho Reposado you had hidden in your cupboard behind the cheap stuff before rummaging in your freezer for the pint of Haagen-Dazs’ Chocolate Chocolate Chip. He smiled when he saw the post-it note you had left on the frozen dessert.

“This ice cream is the personal property of Y/N Carisi. DO NOT TOUCH OR PREPARE TO MEET A VIOLENT SUDDEN DEATH!”

He handed you a spoon and a glass. “Why do you have a death threat on your ice cream?”

“Sometimes Teresa or Gina crash here after partying or a bad date. They’re notorious for stealing my secret stash of junk food.” You pulled the cork out of the tequila bottle with your teeth and drank straight from the bottle.

Several smooth swigs of alcohol and an unfortunate brain freeze later, you and Rafael sat in front of the fire and swapped war stories. Although he had briefly mentioned being cheated on by his childhood ex-girlfriend, Yelina; tonight he shared more with you than he ever had with anyone. How heartbroken he was. The humiliation. How after such a betrayal he wondered if he ever could trust someone ever again.

Likewise, you felt safe enough to stop skirting around the ex situation and finally tell the truth about Theo. “We were supposed to go to some bakery in Staten Island to sample cakes for our wedding, but Theo told me he wasn’t feeling well and asked if we could reschedule. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.” You snorted a laugh as you scraped the last bit of ice cream out of the container. “How stupid was I?”

“Hey, don’t talk about my girlfriend that way.” Rafael wiped away a spot of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream on the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Later on that day, I came home with some ribollita and tea.”

“Ribollita?”

“It’s an Italian bread and vegetable soup. My mom would make it for us whenever we’re sick or sad,” you explained.

“When I walked inside, I saw a trail of clothes and heard a girl’s giggle coming from down the hall. I followed the sound, opened the bedroom door, and saw him with Lacey. The 21 year old bimbo who worked at the dry cleaners down the street,” you said in such a bitter tone that Rafael could feel the acerbic bite in his bones. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned.

“It had been going on for months. Apparently, she had been doing way more than spot treatments and pressing his pants. I dumped the soup on his 500 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, threw the ring at his forehead, and left. He never followed me. He never fought for us.” You shook your head and took another shot of tequila when your phone began to buzz and dance across the floor. It was your brother. Since leaving your parents’ house he had called ten times-- a new record for him.

Rafael watched as you shut off your phone and tossed it over to the couch. While Sonny was not his favorite person by any means, he knew how important your brother was to you. The last thing he wanted out of this relationship was to come between you and your family. Not only did he firmly believe they would despise him for it, but above all else he had a gnawing fear that you would resent him for driving that wedge. “You know, you’re going to have to talk to him eventually.”

You scoffed, “I never want to speak to Sonny again. I hate him.”

“That’s not true and you know it.”

You rolled your eyes. As usual Rafael was right, but that didn’t mean you had to give in and be the first person to offer an olive branch. Sonny was a colossal jerk and he needed to learn a lesson.

“He’s just looking out for you,” Rafael continued. “In his own sick and twisted way.”

You arched a brow at your boyfriend. “So how much did you overhear when Sonny and I were in the kitchen?”

Rafael shrugged and averted his gaze, suddenly incredibly fascinated with the pattern on your rug. “Not much. Snippets really.”

“So pretty much all of it?”

“Pretty much,” he confirmed. “Did...did you ever love him?”

There was a pregnant pause before you responded. Rafael stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and flicker, unable to face you. Of course he already knew the answer was yes. You were a hopeless romantic. But the idea of you loving another man, planning a future with them, made his stomach knot up.

“I thought I did once. But it was different. I can see that now.”

Rafael nodded thoughtfully and grabbed the ice cream carton and bottle of tequila to take back into the kitchen. “How so?”

“Theo and I grew up together. We were childhood sweethearts. The only reason we got engaged is because that’s what people expected of us. It was the next step. But looking back, I realized I was complacent and complacency does not equal love.”

You glanced over at a picture on the coffee table of you and Rafael. You had taken it one lazy Sunday morning in bed, Rafael was kissing your cheek, his bed head sticking out in all directions while you were laughing hysterically. What the picture didn’t capture was that he was tickling that one spot right under your ribcage. You smiled fondly at that happy moment frozen in time. “Love should be scary. It’s taking chances. It’s thrilling. I never felt that with Theo. I feel all those things when I’m with you. I love you.”

Rafael walked back into the living room, completely stunned by your declaration. “What did you say?”

“I love you?” you said with a shrug, feeling a wave of nerves. Perhaps you had jumped the gun.

Rafael plopped down on the rug beside you. He had realized early on in the relationship that he loved you, but always chalked it up to indigestion and brushed his feelings aside. He never believed you would reciprocate so soon. “Are you sure?” He turned towards you and cupped your face. “This isn’t just the tequila and ice cream talking. You’re not drunk or on a raging sugar high?”

You giggled and mimicked his movements, cupping his cheeks. “I promise I am not under any influence of any kind. I love you, Rafael Barba. With every fiber of my being, I love you.”

A tear slipped down your cheek which he brushed away. “I love you too.” He leaned forward and captured your lips with a kiss. Parting your mouth with his tongue, his touch was gentle yet commanding. Your toes were beginning to curl.

A heat crept up your body and you started to undo the top few buttons of your dress. Out of the corner of his eye, Rafael spied a flash of emerald green against your skin and stopped his ministrations.

“What’s the matter?” you asked out of breath.

He ignored your question and tugged your dress aside a little more, revealing the silk emerald green corset. The corset that you had taunted him with when you invited him to lunch on Sunday. The corset that he had envisioned ripping to shreds with his teeth.

You giggled and blushed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “With all the drama, I forgot I had this on.”

“You mean...you wore this to church?”

You slowly nodded your head. “And to my parents’ house.”

Rafael was already rock hard, but now he was on the brink of coming in his pants at the mere thought of you wearing this sinful lingerie underneath your demure dress all day-- piously praying at St. Thomas; helping your mother with her marinara sauce in the kitchen. “Stand up so I can see you better,” he gruffly commanded.

You obeyed and slowly went back to the task of removing your dress. “Stop,” he said and replaced your hands with his. “Let me.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest at his request. A tiny whimper escaped your throat as he peeled your dress off. Rafael’s hands were trembling with each button. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen you naked before, but this time felt different. He was nervous. Locking eyes with you, he could see you were nervous too.

Once your clothes were shed, he drank you in from head to toe--from how that particular shade of green complimented your skin, to your hard nipples poking through the silk and lace, all the way down to the black thigh high stockings connected to your garters. “Eres perfecta,” he whispered, his eyes half-hooded with lust as he began to take off his clothes.

You grabbed his hands, effectively stopping him. “Allow me.” You arched your brow and began shedding layer after layer. You took your time, running your hands over his exposed flesh, feeling his firm muscles beneath your palms.

Completely lost in the sensation of your fingertips against his skin, the clanging of his belt against the floor brought Rafael back to reality. His boxer briefs were the last to go. With a flirty snap of the elastic, you rid him of his underwear, his hardened cock springing free. He toed out of his socks and stepped towards you, nudging his clothes out of the way.

You stared at each other for a long moment-- your chests heaving, bodies pulsating. The tension between you both was electric. Not wanting to wait another second, you pressed yourself against Rafael, kissing him hard, nibbling on his bottom lip. He returned the kiss with vigor. You could feel his throbbing erection weeping onto your inner thigh, brushing against your lace-covered pussy.

In awe of this beautiful man in your arms, you began to work your way down his body, laying wet wanton kisses across his skin. “Oh Y/N, please,” he whimpered. Hearing him beg, you raked your teeth against his nipple, a particular sensitive spot for Rafael. He gasped in response.

You smirked, reveling in the fact that you had reduced him to a begging, quivering mess. Kneeling before him, you took his cock in your hand and teasingly flicked your tongue against his slit.

Rafael groaned at the sight of you looking up at him with big innocent eyes and a wide welcoming mouth. From this angle, he could see the way your garters rested on the luscious curve of your ass.

You wrapped your lips around him, swirling around his crown as if you were sucking a lollipop, tracing every vein.

Rafael threw his head back and groaned, “Ay Dios mío.”

His cock felt hot and heavy in your mouth, you relaxed your throat as you slowly swallowed him down, pushing his head past your tight ring of muscle. Your nose was tickled by his trimmed pubic hair. He held your head there for a moment, relishing in the sensation.

You smacked his ass and grabbed a handful of his flesh before pulling off him with a pop. “Fuck my mouth, mi amor,” you purred while stroking his length. “Don’t hold back. I want all of it.”

He wrapped his hand around your long locks and fed you his cock. “You naughty little girl,” he growled before thrusting. “Going to put that mouth of yours to good use.”

“Mmmhmm,” you moaned. Tears were running down your cheeks as you gagged around him, taking everything he had to give. You loved when Rafael got rough. You craved it. Giving him pleasure brought you pleasure.

One of your hands reached up to massage his balls while the other reached in between his legs, pressing down on that strip of skin between his cock and his ass. That was all it took for Rafael to come undone. His cock swelled and released. His warm seed splashing against your tongue. Rafael came so hard, he was practically bent in half, clutching the mantle, grunting over and over again. You sucked him dry, not stopping until he gently pulled you off his sensitive cock.

“Jesus Christ,” he chuckled. “You have a mouth like a vacuum cleaner.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?” you asked, wiping away some of your smudged lipstick.

“I nearly had a heart attack just now, what do you think?” He had an evil glint in his eye and took several steps towards causing you to scoot back. “I think I need to repay the favor. Don’t you?”

“Only if you insist.” You laid back down on the floor in your most seductive pose.

Rafael knelt down. “Oh believe me”-- he grabbed your legs and pulled you towards him causing you to squeal in surprise--“I insist.”

He ran his hands across your body, pressing against your form through the silk. Wanting to repay you for your earlier torment, Rafael took his time disrobing you--tugging at the laces of your corset, unsnapping your garters, peeling your stockings off. There wasn’t an inch of skin left unattended from the crown of your head down to the arches of your feet.

You couldn’t catch your breath. “Payback is a bitch,” you thought as he sucked a mark onto your right hip. Rafael saved your thong for last, opting to tear it off you with his teeth.

He parted your folds, revealing your glistening pink pearl, stroking your soft, wet, sex. You spread your legs wider, feeling his hot breath on your pussy, arching your hips toward him. He clucked in disapproval. “So impatient.”

“Please,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

Unable to resist any longer (after all, he was only human), he began to worship your core. Offering his tongue as a prayer as he swirled around your lower lips and traced patterns on your clit.

You grinded against him. “More,” you pleaded.

With a loud squelch, Rafael stopped and lifted his head. “You have such a perfect little pussy. I love it so much”--he playfully bit down on your inner thighs-- “and it’s all mine. Isn’t it?” With an intense, heated stare, he spit on your pussy. The sensation of his saliva on your swollen clit caused you to jump.

“Yes, it’s yours,” you wailed.

“That’s right,” he cooed while slowly making concentric circles on your bundle of nerves, watching how his spit mingled with your dripping juices. “And you’re gonna come all over my face, aren’t you?”

You arched your back and gasped. “Oh God, yes! Yes!

“Shhh, that’s my good girl,” he said with a smirk before devouring you once more. Your moans of “More” and “Don’t stop” spurred him on.

With his mouth wrapped around your clit, he penetrated you with his fingers, stroking that spot deep within you that drove you insane. One crook of his finger had you coming with a shriek.

Feeling your core pulse against his tongue as he fucked you through your orgasm unleashed something savage within him. He buried his face against you, groaning, his lips and chin completely coated in your arousal. Already hard from eating you out, he rutted against the rug, desperate for some relief.

His tongue was relentless while he fucked you with his fingers until he ripped another orgasm from you. By the third time you had come, you melted onto the floor. And yet you wanted more. With Rafael, it was never enough.

You pushed him off you and straddled him, kissing him with such fierce passion he toppled back to the floor. “I want to show you how much I love your cock.” You nuzzled your nose with his before sitting up and dragging your center against his length. Hovering over his cock for a moment, you lowered yourself onto him.

Rafael grabbed your hips to keep you in place as he rotated his pelvis, wanting you to feel every inch of his cock. Your whole body shuddered. Digging your nails into his chest, you began to rock against him.

Rafael groaned, watching you fuck him. “Look down, querida. Look at how fucking sexy you look riding me.”

You followed his gaze down to where you were being impaled by him. Biting back a whimper, you experimentally flexed your muscles, squeezing against his cock. Rafael choked out a sob which only encouraged you to speed up your movements.

You lifted almost completely off him before slamming back down.

Flames licked at your flesh as you continued to bounce on his cock. Rivulets of sweat dripped off of you, one drop running down your chest. Rafael sat up and caught it with his tongue, holding you close as he latched on to your nipple, suckling against the hardened bud before repeating his actions on your other breast.

Your bodies worked in tandem, pushing and pulling. You were reduced to a wild animal, clawing at Rafael. Red streaks covered his sweaty skin. He loved it, wanting nothing more than to be claimed by you, his own ethereal goddess.

“Rafael!” you cried out in a hoarse voice. He cut you off with a searing kiss.

“I love you,” he moaned against your lips.

“I love you too.” Tears began to run down your cheeks. Your heart was beating fast, blood pounding in your ears, pressure mounting. You were too far gone by this point. Can you die from pleasure? Oh...but what a way to go.

He pulled back, forcing you to lock eyes with him. His eyebrows furrowed, mouth slack, panting and whimpering with every thrust. You pressed your forehead against his, your breaths mingling. This was beyond the physical. Your souls were melding, transforming one another.

You simultaneously erupted, swallowing each other’s moans and grunts, stroking each other through your respective releases. When you finally floated back down to earth, you collapsed on the floor, your bodies still connected.

“Holy shit,” you sighed.

“I know,” Rafael panted.

“If I knew saying ‘I love you’ would lead to mind blowing sex, I would’ve said it a whole lot earlier,” you teased.

“I knew you were only after me for my body.” Rafael let out a breathless laugh and tickled that one spot on your side. Exhausted and not in any hurry to move, you both laid there as the fire weakened until only a few dull embers glowed.

You nestled against his chest, having never felt so happy. As cheesy and cliché as it sounded, you wish you could stay that way forever. That is until the events from earlier in the day came floating back into your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do with your family, especially Sonny.

But that wasn’t a question for tonight. Right now you were perfectly content being wrapped up in your own little world. Just you and Rafael.

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kingsuckjin · 4 years

Text

Just Smile -2

✷Paring: joker!jk x reader, robin! jin x reader, bts x reader

✷ Genre: bts batman au

✷Description: Description: All you’ve ever wanted was to help, that’s all. When you landed a job at Arkham asylum (possibly unjustly), you thought maybe you could help the poor souls locked away there. You were apprehensive about meeting one in particular, the worst criminal of his time, the infamous Jeon Jungkook, well known around Gotham as the Joker. But what if this man isn’t what the rumors and his records say he is? What if he saw you as the one needing help? You only had to do him one small favor and he could make every dream you’ve ever had could come true, he could take all the pain away and you would never want for anything ever again. Could what he offers be the truth? You can’t say you weren’t warned about him.

✷ Warnings: mention of kooks facial scars and self harm, the security isn't nice to kook, talk of mental disorders, talk of violence, depression, self loathing, idk if I forgot something please let me know

✷Words: 3.9k

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--Series Masterlist--

"Jeon Jungkook: age 22, displays sociopathic behavior, physically aggressive."

The last two words were ones that no therapist wanted to read, it was intimidating.

You thought about just closing the case file and just thinking about how to approach this.

You were told you had to see this guy every single day, more than the hand full of others you were assigned to. You thought maybe your new boss was giving you the toughest case first just to see if he could break you, get you to quit.

You sighed as you glanced back down at the file of Jungkook on your desk and urged yourself to read further, it was important that you knew what he's done and what he could do.

The lists of things he had done read like a novel and was probably just as long as one too. "Sentenced to Arkham Asylum by pleasing insanity under the sentences and accusations of: poisoning the city's water supply, which was considered an act of terrorism. Also thought to be involved in causing the disappearance of over forty people." the list just kept going on and on.

You felt sick at your stomach making you close the file.

You wondered how you would even go about making a treatment plan for a man this vicious. You decided you couldn't, not until you met with him first. Meeting with him would be most of the battle. Would he try to snap your neck on the spot? Would he yell and scream at you?

To be honest, you were afraid. But all you could do was suck it up and act like the professional you were.

"He's ready" a member of staff poked his head through the cracked door of your new office. You knew who he was talking about, you knew who was ready, but were you?

You plastered a fake smile across your face and stood from your seat.

"Okay- I- I- um. That's great!" You tried to act as cheerful as you could given the unsettling feeling you had in your stomach.

"I'll be taking you to where you'll be meeting with him. You've had time to look over his files, right?" He asked as you left the office with the hospital staff and walked out into the too brightly lit hallway.

"Yes, of course." but you felt as though “barely” would have been more accurate reply.

"So you've seen the list of what this piece of shit has done."

"I-I-" it was hardly professional to be calling a patient a name like that "I have." But you agreed anyway.

"Just making sure, you really need to be warned about this guy. Last week he tried to bite another guy's finger off and he's been in isolation ever since."

"Oh." Left your mouth as your thoughts blanked out with it, all but one which was”

Dear god, what did I agree to?

"Is locked up though, on his meds, and there will be a guard in the room just in case."

Well that calmed your fears somewhat.

You passed door after door, some with yelling and screaming behind it, another with creepy singing, some patients just beat on the metal door with no regard, some were silent.

You saw two armed guards standing beside one of the doors just up ahead and you just knew that this was your stop, sure enough, the security man pulled out a card and ran it in front of a small box by the doorway, it let out a single, short, high pitched beep.

"You should get one of these soon" He told you as he opened the door and showed you his key card, but you couldn't concentrate on anything else but the man that was revealed to be inside of the stark white room. He sat at one side of the table in a cheap folding chair by a wall. The more you looked, you could see that he was handcuffed to a metal bar, bolted to the white concrete wall. His head, with a mess of toxic bright green hair, was tilted downwards, looking at the table and not you as you walked in. Hair was wild and stuck up in random places as if he had just rolled out of bed.

Your eyes flickered to the guard standing directly behind him, a tall muscular man with a large gun held across his broad chest, ready if needed.

The metal door shut behind you and you admittedly jumped just a little at the unexpected sound.

You walked slowly over to the table, wondering when your new patient would look up at you. Even without him looking up you could see that his skin looked a pasty white shade and you thought maybe he hadn't been outside in a while, that being inside here had done this to him.

You had a seat in the chair across from him and cleared your throat and did your best to sound not nervous although your palms were covered in sweat.

"Hello I'm Doctor y/l/n"

He didn't answer or say anything for a moment, you thought he might be asleep.

"I know" His voice was calm, yet he still didn't look at you. The sound of his voice was much more peaceful than you expected, more soothing, velvety sweet like his vocal cords had been dipped in honey. You had expected a gruff deep voice that would invoke fear upon hearing a single word.

"What's your name?" You did your best to try to make conversation, you'd take what you could get at this point, you just had to get him talking, but you weren't sure that he would, judging by his demeanor and opposition to look at you.

"You know my name." His voice continued to stay calm, and he didn't seem upset at all, he just seemed to point out a fact.

"I do, but introductions are important. I would like to hear your name from you." You urged gently.

"Jeon Jungkook, patient 2354" he complied nicely with you, even giving you his patient number that you recall being beside his name in his file.

"Jungkook? Why don't you want to look at me?" You asked hoping that if he did then maybe he would feel more connected with you

"Skipping to the straightforward questions already?" his head bobbed a little as he let out a huff of amusement that wasn't sassy, but actually seemed like he was a little surprised by your basic request.

"You don't like that? Would you prefer to talk about other things?" you wanted to be careful just in case you had read him wrong, you wanted him to feel comfortable, you wanted him to know he could switch topics at any time.

"No, that's alright, I figured you'd ask, they all ask me to eventually."

You didn't know who he was referring to, they as in other therapists or staff or what. You were confused, but you decided to let him continue to speak other than asking more questions.

"My face... is... you haven't heard about my face?" He seemed so apprehensive to speak about it.

"No, I've only read your file, and it said nothing about your face." You informed him.

"It's pretty scary."

"Well that's okay. I won't judge you. I don't mind at all." You did your best to reassure him. "But if looking down makes you comfortable I'm not going to-"

"You promise you won't scream if I show you?" He cut you off. It seemed like he wanted to show you.

"I swear." You were sure of your words.

You watched as he slowly lifted his mossy colored head up until his brown eyes met yours. He had a strikingly beautiful face, his eyes wide and brown almost deer-like, a strong jaw but gentle curves on his face that told you he was young. He had a few tattoos that you could see, a sad face with X’s for eyes on one of his cheek bones. The second was a few words near his collarbone that you couldn't quite read due to it being mostly obstructed by the collar of his white patient jumpsuit. To be honest, the tattoos suited him and his rather odd but soft features.

"I see nothing but your nice brown eyes." You were honest, his other nice features seemed to draw attention away from the not so nice one.

"Don't lie to me." He still didn't seem angry or upset or like it was a warning at all, just disbelieving of your comment.

You did however do your best not to look at the jagged scar of marred skin coming from the sides of his mouth to his mid cheeks. It looked like it had been cut so roughly, so carelessly, almost ripped. You did feel the very slightest urge to reach out and touch it, run your fingers along the long healed rugged scar, simply out of curiosity of what it felt like. Of course that would be inappropriate, and you knew better than to put your hand near the mouth of a man who almost bit someone’s finger off of course.

"I'm not going to scream, I'm not judging you, I'm not disgusted by you or anything you might think." You told the truth once again. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Sure, I don't mind." He gave a shrug and the chains that bound his wrists slightly jingled with the movement.

This was not at all how you expected the meeting to go. He seemed so quiet, calm and gentle. His current attitude was almost jarring compared to all the awful things you had read about him. You still weren't about to let your guard down thinking he might switch personalities at any moment to a more violent one, you were waiting for it just in case. In a way you wanted to see it, see what he might be like at his worst. You wanted him to match up with what you read in his file, but you were also very terrified of that.

"Do you want to tell me how it happened?" You asked and he gave a small nod.

"I-uh-I did it to myself." He was being so honest and open, yet his muttering and stuttering reflected his apprehension in talking about it, but you were still glad he was.

"Why? How?" You continued to prod, to see what he would and wouldn't answer and feel out his boundaries.

"I was tired of not smiling, so I took a knife and I cut my cheeks into a permanent smile."

You had to will your eyebrows to not raise at his answer in slight shock or furrow with worry.

"You seem ashamed to show people, is that why your head was down and you didn't want to let me see?"

He nodded.

"I don't enjoy looking like this anymore, especially not in front of someone seemingly so flawless. "I regret it."

You were aware he had just insinuated you were flawless, he had complimented you, but you decided to say nothing about it and move on.

"What was going on in your mind at the time? Do you want to explain your thought process behind it?"

"I-" he took a deep breath and once again looked down at the plastic grey table top. "I was younger, eighteen I think… eighteen is when it all happened. I was in an accident, hence my skin and hair, it- it really altered my mind. I was doing horrible things, and my mind… well it wasn't in the best state, I just kept falling further and further into a dark dark hole. My skin was ruined, my hair was ruined, my mind felt ruined, I was depressed. I thought no one would want someone like me- someone who looked this way. I was tired of being sad and in a bit of a psychotic rage, I cut the sides of my mouth into a permanent smile. Do you like it? If its not scary is it at least surprising to you?”

"Well,” you began with a playful tone, “I don't know if I can be surprised much anymore, especially by my line of work. Do you like surprises?"

"I do." He smiled a genuinely sweet smile and you could see his two front teeth were just a bit more prominent than the rest.

"What kind?" You wanted to keep him talking and any conversation going, and this seemed like a pleasant one, but to your dismay he gave a shrug. He almost seemed a little shy now, and that was once again very different from the violent man’s case file you had read.

"Well what else do you like?"

"A lot of things. I like pretty things." He looked and you "and I like... I just miss the outside world."

"Did you find beauty in the outside world?” you genuinely wanted to know what he liked about being free.

“I do.I like the least expected things, those are the most beautiful, the chaos. Busy streets, hives of bees. There’s beauty in chaos I suppose, people don't like it but it’s underrated. So are imperfect things, imperfections are beautiful, unique, interesting.”

His answer spoke volumes about him, it seemed to begin to tell you why he did the things he did, but you were sure it was only the tip of the iceberg of reasons why he was the way he was, and you now found yourself more than curious about the whys and hows of him and what made him tick. He seemed so soft spoken,calm, and so open but you knew there had to be another more violent and brutal side of him.

“Tell me about how you grew up.” you clasped your hands together on the table until you thought better of it. Somehow thinking that your arm freedom would be like rubbing it in his face that he was bound by chains and limited in mobility.

“Hmmm, I’m not sure what there is to tell, I grew up like any other kid in the suburbs of Gotham… at least I believe I did… I don't know things are blurry before the accident.”

“Accident?” you urged him to continue noticing he had mentioned this just a few moments ago but had not elaborated on it.

“The chemical accident.” you noticed him stare down at the table once more, his jaw seemed to clench. It seemed hard for him to talk about it, but talking about things was good, it was the only way to get breakthroughs. For a moment you didn't think he would go into it, you were about to change the subject and come back to the question at a later time in a more gentle way.

“I fell… into some chemicals… I was an employee, my first job. A janitor. It didn't pay much, I felt like I never had any money and it was hard with… I just couldn’t…” he stopped himself and struggled.

“Take your time.” you said gently.

“It wasn't making ends meet. I started to steal things, burglarize homes. I never hurt anyone, I didn't want to, it was never my intent. I just had to find a way to make money for…” he let out a sigh “I just needed the money. I don't remember much from my childhood or teenage years, if I played a sport in school, who I was friends with, hell even my parent’s names. I do remember the struggle I went through right before the accident.”

“That's alright I-”

“Times up.” The big man from behind him boomed cutting off your sentence. You felt like he was really opening up to you though and it was only the first meeting.

“Five more m-” you wanted to barter with the man, but he cut you off once more with the same phrase.

You scooted out your chair and stood in defeat.

You didn't even flinch when Jungkook also stood quickly and attempted to reach out a shackled hand for you to shake.

Your hand went towards his but in a matter of seconds he had stumbled backwards onto the floor. You looked at the chain in the guards hand and assessed that he had pulled it, sending Jungkook to the floor.

You felt a tinge of guilt, especially when the man dragged him to his feet and back into his chair by the deep green hair. You just stood there gobsmacked with wide eyes at the abuse you had just witnessed. The man still had his large fingers in Jungkook’s shaggy hair.

“It was nice meeting you.” he said as he grunted in pain at how tightly the man held him by the hair. “I don't know when I’ll see you next… or the condition I’ll be in” he threw in making the man twist his fingers in his hair earning a series of ouches from Jungkook for the smart remark that might have hid a secret fear. “But I look forward to it.”

You were unsure of what you could do, it was obvious you held no power here.

“Yeah…” you scooted in your chair “I-me too.”

All you could do was turn and walk out, hoping the guard would release his hair once you left.

----------------

The way he was treated bothered you, even long after you were home. You had showered, tried to eat but you couldn't shake how he had been treated. It wasn't your place to say how things were run there though, which is why you flopped onto your sofa and flipped through Netflix to try to forget or at least ease how upset you were with the movie.

That was until a pretty, velvet bag had caught your eye on the coffee table. It sat in the same place where you had haphazardly thrown it last night, untouched and forgotten.

Suddenly you were lunging out of your seat for it and dumping its contents into your lap.

You couldn't believe you had forgotten about it, that weird cat man could've given you anything, drugs, stolen jewelry, human teeth. What fell out onto your lap though wasn't any of that though.

"What the fuck?" You whispered in awe as you looked down at the thick stack of rubber banded together stack of cash that had fallen into your lap.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" You thought out loud. You had never seen so much money in one place at one time, you couldn't even pretend you knew how much it might be.

All you could do is stare until your phone buzzed from its spot on the couch cushion beside you. You directed your eyes away from the obscene amount of money you now possessed, and glanced at the name "jinnie" surrounded by hearts popping up on the screen making you sigh. You wanted to answer it, you wanted him to ask how your first day at work went, you wanted to continue to pretend last night didn't happen, pretend he felt the same way about you like you had before. But he lied to you, he led you on, he broke your heart, made you cry, you were never anything real to him and you refused to forget that now.

You let the phone ring as you stuffed the money back into it's nice bag and contemplated taking it to the police department. You thought hard about it, but if it was stolen from the party would you be arrested? You had been at that party, you were seen with the stranger, you could be seen as an accomplice. You picked up your now quieted phone and headed to your room where you tucked the money neatly into a shoe box under your bed before getting in.

In your mind Seokjin had once again ruined another night.

You drifted off thinking about Jungkook being tugged by the chains to the floor, unfortunately leading to dreams you're the one stuck in that white room, being hurt by the big guard with the gun. Feeling so trapped, dragged by the hair, knowing there would never be a way to leave and see the bees and hear the sounds of traffic out your apartment window ever again. You were thrown to the floor over and over and it seemed as though the sound of it grew louder and louder until you woke up and sat up in bed only to realize there was knocking at the door.

You reach for your phone on the bedside table in the darkness as you throw back your comforter with the other hand. The time reads thee in the morning as you head into your living room, but pause.

The knocking had stopped.

You were still curious and irritated at who would be knocking on your door this early in the morning, so you once again head towards it, unlock it, and throw it open to see absolutely nothing, no one, not even a stray cat.

You stepped out to look around a little and your bare foot stepped on something that was not the concrete of your front porch.

You picked up what looked to be an envelope and took it in, making sure to lock the door back up behind you, just to be safe, before flipping on a light.

The envelope was a bright green and had one of those very old fashioned smooth looking, red wax seals binding it closed, within the wax was the shape of a question mark.

You opened it to find a short but very neatly written note.

"People make me, save me, change me, raise me, what am I?

I believe the cat has given you something that doesn't belong to you, a terrible burden to put in your hands. So smart not showing him where you live, but I'm smarter. Peek-a-boo, I found you. Don't worry, I don't wish to hurt you, on the contrary, I simply wish to pardon you from your involvement in this. Leave it in your mailbox at midnight tomorrow night."

You thoroughly read the note a few times before your sleepy brain figured it out.

"The money." You whispered to yourself. The note felt a little foreboding despite the promise not to hurt you. Nervousness began to wash over you as you just stared at the note now with eyelids heavy from not enough sleep. This money was definitely someone else's and that someone else knew where you lived.

"Thanks cat boy." You sarcastically muttered to yourself as your feet dragged your exhausted body back to bed.

No matter how tired you felt, you were unable to sleep. The nightmare combined with the note and all the thoughts you had before bed had left you in a permanent state of unease despite having to get ready for work in just a few hours.

With very little sleep, all of the strange things happening and your broken heart, tomorrow was bound to be a bad day as well.

"Mind over matter" you said out loud "it's only going to be as bad as I let it be."

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oberynmartell · 4 years

Text

moonlighting | flip zimmerman x reader

It takes him an hour and a half to get to you.

He stops frequently, stops at stupid places, stops for long enough to peek through the windows of the building and make sure no familiar cars have pulled into the lots behind him. He pulls into the U-turn at the library and is slow to drop off one of the books you had once recommended, using it as an excuse to look into the library's mirror like windows and assure he's alone.

But he can't be too careful, can't risk it. Can't risk you, not when you're the only thing he cares about, the only goddamn thing tethering him to this earth right now. He doesn't care about the case, doesn't care about the force, doesn't care about his badge or his gun or the fact that if the Captain found out he'd probably be on desk duty for a year. He only cares about you.

But even then, even enthralled in that desperation that fills him, he doesn't dare risk your safety.

He stops next at a convenience store, buys things he doesn't really need. A six pack of cheap beer he hates, a pack of Marlboro lights, filtered, since he knows he'll finally be kissing you again, a bag of those corn chips that make his fingers taste like cheese. He's almost at the counter before he thinks better of it, turns back around and moves back down the aisles.

It's been almost two months since he's seen you, since he's touched you. And he's desperate for you, hungry for you, starving in a way that can't possibly be sated until he's seated inside you again, until he's got his arms around you again.

He buys the cologne you like, that sometimes has you burying your nose under his arms or against his chest just so you can smell him. He'll spray it on on the way out, bath himself in it, anoint himself in the scent if only just because it reminds him of you. Next he grabs a bottle of mouthwash, he'd been so crazed leaving the safe house that he hadn't even though to do so. He just had to get to you.

He pays and drives and drives and drives, eyes glued to the rear mirror, watching for a following car, watching for any sign of danger to you. It takes him more than an hour to get to you, to the house he had become so familiar with, when it should only have taken twenty minutes. He parks two streets down and walks the rest of the way, relief flooding through him as he finds your car in the driveway.

He didn't know what he thought you would be doing tonight. But it was Saturday night and it had been two months since he had been able to talk to you. He didn't know what he thought.

He turns around the side of the house, frowning as he sees how the grass has grown over the last few months without his big boots to tramp down on it. He circles around the building, looks in the glowing gold windows. Wonders what you're doing, are you thinking of him, do you miss him?

His hand shakes as he knocks on the sliding glass of the back door, stamps his fag out in the little purple ashtray that was right where he left it on the back patio, as if he had just set it out there the previous night. Duke barks and he smiles when he hears the pup he had trained to protect you is doing his job. When your face appears in the space between the blinds, a bit startled and pale from the surprise of a knock in the middle of the night, he can't help but release the breath he hadn't known he was holding.

Flip says your name like he can't believe it's really you, watches the fog of his breath dissipate in the cold air like smoke. You try to pull open the door, to flip the latch and undo the lock so quick that you can't quite manage it, until the two of you are pawing at the glass door like children who haven't yet figured out the function of a doorknob.

When you finally get the door open you're on him so fast that he looses his footing and tumbles backwards, falling on his back in the cold grass and he doesn't give a fuck about the temperature or the dirt or anything at all, not with your weight back in his arms, your lips besotting him with kisses, your eyes leaking big, fat tears that he kisses away before finally settling back at your lips.

You say his name over and over like a prayer, like a song, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him. He feels drunk, he feels more sober than he's ever been. He's angry that he's missed so much time with you, he's happy that he has you now. He wants you here and now, wants you in your bed or on your sofa or on the marble kitchen counter where he's had you a hundred times. He wants to feel your bare skin on his, wants his cock in your mouth, wants his cock inside of you so deep that he can see it in your belly as he fucks up into you.

It was stupid, so utterly, completely, ridiculously stupid to be here. He was risking the case, risking his life, risking your life. He couldn't stand it, not being with you right now. It felt like he couldn't think without you there to share his thoughts with, couldn't sleep without you curled against him, couldn't breathe without you there breathing with him.

"Flip." you moan, feeling his lips at the column of your neck, sucking big red marks you'll be able to see for the next week. You're writhing on top of him, got your arms and legs wrapped around him, got your hips pressed to his and your belly heaving against his. "Flip. Flip. Flip."

It's like you're not sure if he's really there, not sure if it's not a dream. Thinking that you've been dreaming of him makes his chest flood even deeper with pleasure, the heat of your smile and your bright eyes and your warm kisses making him feel simultaneously heavy and light, so small and so big, like he might kiss you so deep that he might just swallow you whole.

The backyard is bathed in moonlight, the silver gleaming off your skin like it was pouring right out of you, and he drinks it down, your words and your moans and that bright white light rolling off of you, until he's not sure whose hands have pushed your nightshirt up over your shoulders, whose hands have undone his belt and are working at the buttons of his jeans.

He knows his fingers are the ones tracing over your smooth skin, holding you close, knows its his face that nuzzles between the cavern of your breasts and his lips that suck each of your pert nipples into his mouth as he drives up your nightshirt. You push his jacket down his shoulders, bury your hands under his flannel shirt and make him jump from the cold of your fingers as your hands smooth over his belly and chest, as you feel him tense beneath you as your hips work against his.

His cock is so hard he can feel it leaking, and the way it's pushed up against the denim painful, and you seem to read his mind for soon your fingers are working at his zipper and pushing his jeans down his thighs as you urge him to lift his hips for you.

Beside your writhing bodies the puppy you had both fallen in love with stops nipping at his heels and yipping happily at the sight of his dad, sinking down on the rug before the door and falling into sleep— as content in your company as Flip is.

You turn to look over at the dog for a moment, more than glad you hadn't thought to switch on the outside lights and he takes advantage of the distraction to flip you over, settling your back on the grass below his coat so you don't get so dirty, so you don't have to lie on the cold, hard earth. You part your legs for him, lets him settle into the cradle of your hips as though he had never left, and he wiggles your underwear down your legs until they tangle at your ankles and he can pull them free, shoving them into his back pocket so that he doesn't have to miss you quite so much when he's gone.

"Sweetheart..." he begins, feels your cunt clench against his thick fingers as you roll your hips beneath him, as desperate as him, as hungry. You push your hips up against his fingers, seeking friction, seeking relief. "I missed you so much I—"

"I know." You say, and he nods, because you probably do, you always do. "I know, baby. I know."

He feels you jump against him as his fingers slide across your folds, moving right to the place that makes you moan audibly in the cold, dark yard, that makes your puppy lift his head from where he had curled up before the door.

It's cold outside but he can feel sweat slip down his back and chest despite it, can see it beading at the hollow of your throat and the crest of your brow. He catches it with hurried, hungry kisses, savoring the taste of you, craving every part of you, so that if he wasn't so desperate to be inside of you he would have buried his face between your legs and had you screaming loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear.

"Flip." You say, breathless, chest heaving, nipples pebbled in the cold night air so that he resolves to warm them with his big palms. "Honey please. Please, I need you, I need you."

It's his turn to say, "I know." Just once, before he pushes into you, sets you both to moaning in pleasure and relief. He feels himself sinking home, falling back into your arms as if he had never left. He grabs at your legs, hungry, lifting them up and over his hips where his jeans are hanging so low.

It's been too long, he won't last. Can't last, when you're gripping him like that, pulsating around his cock as you writhe and moan and fuck— you feel so good he can barely even breathe. When your legs are around him and your body drapes limp against his, when your lips are searing hot against his cheeks and you part your lips to let him swallow all those moans you offer. When your body is moving against his as it always does, reading the signals he offers, the tightness of his belly, the trembling of his thighs, so that you know just where to touch him, tease him, taste him.

He doesn't care if you're loud. Doesn't care if the whole neighborhood knows what the two of you are doing. Doesn't care if the whole city gathers around to watch him fuck you, right there in the backyard where you hosted barbecues for the squad in the summer or where you had thrown Ron a surprise party just a few months prior, when Flip had spent much of the evening with one hand around the neck of a beer and the other tucked into the back of your jeans, teasing, squeezing, kneading your ass just hard enough to have your panties soaked by the end of the night.

You taste so sweet he can’t help but kiss you, taste you, let his tongue tease and roll yours until you’re so breathless and he’s so lightheaded that he has to pull away, so he leans his forehead against yours instead and meets your eyes. You smile at him even when he snaps his hips up against yours and knocks the breath out of you, cheeks splashed with pink and red, and you look at him with the same relief he feels in his eyes.

“I love you.” he groans, burying his face between your neck and shoulder, inhaling your scent and tasting your sweat. Your hand strokes along the his head and down the back of his neck, cradling his head against your body and pulling you to him.

“I l-love you.” You gasp as he changes position, hauls your leg up over his broad shoulder so he can hilt deeper in you, the head of his cock hitting that spot that makes you throw your head back like you’ve been possessed. Your other leg slung low on his hips, pushing his jeans even further down his long legs, feeling the way his thick thighs flexed with the force of fucking you.

“Oh-h G-God—“ you keen, pushing your tits out in surprise as he grazed over your pert nipple with the tips of his teeth, biting just hard enough to tip over into a pain that only added to the pleasure. You felt overstimulated. You felt not stimulated enough. “I’m c-close. I’m close. I’m...I’m gonna—“

“Come on, honey.” he says, crowding down on top of you, pushing his hand down on your belly so he can feel his cock driving in and out of you. His free hand slips down between your legs and finds your clit with practiced ease, an accuracy curated by a lifetime of making you come. “Wanna feel you come on my cock. Wanna feel you come on my cock like I’ve been dreaming of.”

Your hips jerk as you come, so that he has to push your hips back down against the grass to keep you still, the hand spread over your hips and belly making you seem tiny. The sounds of your moan ricochets across the quiet yard like a stone on still water and he grins, hopes they're keeping that old bat Mrs. Clearey awake.

He can see tears glistening on the slopes of your cheeks, matching the wetness that spills over his hand as you come, the wetness eating away at the dry fabric at the front of his jeans and the creased jacket beneath you, and he’s glad, glad he’ll be able to smell you on him for days.

In the throes of your orgasm your cunt had gone were tight as a closed fist around his cock, your walls quivering through the aftershocks of pleasure, and he tips your hips back and holds you down to be able to keep thrusting into you, pinning you down with a hand between your breasts.

Your moans are half muffled by the way you bury your face between his neck and shoulder, biting down just hard enough to mark the skin. He's so close to his climax that he can practically taste the relief on his tongue. He nuzzles at your tits, lets his teeth graze across each of your pebbled nipples just hard enough to make you shiver in his arms.

"God-" he moans, grins at the way you jerk in his arms when you feel the head of his cock press into the curve of your cervix.

His legs clench tight as an orgasm builds in the low of his belly, a tingling electricity clawing at the inside of his chest and tightening his skin. He snaps his hips forward, pulling your legs up higher over his hips, easing up on the pressure of his fingers on your clit without pulling away completely, knowing your body well enough to know you’ll be able to come for him again.

Flip is almost overwhelmed at so much physical contact after so long without you, so long in the safe house with just his right hand and the ghost of your memory, and he wants to stay in this moment forever. Wants to feel you clench and pull at him, your moans reverberating in his ears, your face pressing into his broad chest as your lips suck red marks into his skin.

He wants to memorise the look in your eyes, the expression on your face, the way you look up at him, eyes so bright and wide, glowing silver in the bare moonlight. He’s been thinking about you, dreaming about you, licking his palm and bringing himself off just looking at that wrinkled up old polaroid of you hidden behind another frame at the safe house, freshly fucked and glowing, all sleepy eyes and swollen lips and skin that still shone with the sweat he’d rubbed off onto you.

And now he’s got you again, got you back in his arms where you belong, where he can touch you and slip his fingers in your mouth and feel your breath against his chest. You’re the only thing that mattered. Not the case, not the perps, not the nosy fucking neighbors that were rude to you when you took Duke on a walk each night. As far as Flip was concerned there was only you, only ever you.

"Please. Phil, honey, please." You gasped out, clenching so tight around him that for a moment he could barely breathe as he pushed into you, digging his hands into your thighs, arching your back off the grass so that he could sheathe himself to the hilt inside you.

"Fuck." He groaned against your open mouth, feeling your tongue slide across his teeth, swallowing down your moans like they were his. And they were.

Then he realised, a sobering thought striking him. He might be gone for months, maybe a year, on this mission. Might leave you on your own at the house, without him to care for your sore feet or rub your swollen belly or hold your hair back if you were sick in the mornings, and it made his stomach twist, made him pull back to pull out of you as his cock began to throb with the start of his orgasm.

It must have shown on his face because then you’re there, gripping his shoulders in your small hands and winding your legs around his naked hips, holding him to you, locking him in place with your long long legs and keeping him from pulling away from you. He's overcome with relief, with pleasure, with love, that he almost screams from the overwhelmingness of it all.

You curse under your breath as he holds you tight to him, his hips slowing as he pushes in and out of you, wanting to fill you up as he's wanted to for weeks and weeks and weeks. He sinks down on top of you, suddenly too exhausted even to lift himself up on his arms, to even pull out of you, and whispers against the shell of your ear how good you feel, how much he missed you, how much he loves you.

"I love you." He breathes, panting, a shaking hand reaching up to brush the sweaty hair from your brow. He wants to stay in this moment forever, wants to stay in you forever, wants to fuck you forever. "You're too good for me, sweetheart."

"Don't start with me, Phillip Zimmerman." You said, mock stern. Your thumbs run over his cheeks, his nose, over his kiss swollen mouth before brining your lips to them. "You know I hate it when you say those things."

He lets his head drop against your chest, struggling to catch his breath, lavishing in the way your fingers carded through his dark hair. "I just had to see you, honey." he says, like he's reading the question in your mind. And maybe he is, he always seems to know just what you're thinking. "I couldn't stand it anymore. I missed you."

You smile up at him, fingers curling around his ears to stroke them just like he likes. "I missed you too." You said, and even though he knew it still makes his heart jump in his chest. "Do..." you began, licking your lips. He could see the darkness edge into your face and it made his chest ache. "When do you have to go back?"

He dips down to kiss you again, long and slow, his tongue exploring every inch of you as though it were the first time again, and by the time he pulls away you're breathless and your cheeks are pink and bright. "Not yet." he says, already adjusting himself to grind against your open legs. "Not until the morning."

Your face brightens again and you lick your lips, sliding your hands down his broad back. "That's a long time." you said, ignoring the way your neighbor's lights have flicked on. "What are we gonna do in all that time?"

Flip grins and pinches one of your nipples, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulated pleasure. "I can think of a few things."

#been working on this FOR WEEKS #flip zimmerman #flip zimmerman x reader #flip x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #ben solo x reader #can be read as a kylo au #fic: reader fic

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