#son of a BITCH this fucking track.
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You know those songs that make you feel like you’re drowning in a lake and there’s no broken surface through several feet of ice.
Or the ones that make you feel like you’re a cocooned corpse encased in ash and volcanic matter in Pompeii, with your last movement reaching out to a loved one but never actually touching their hand before you both die.
Or falling down a crack in the earth but falling so, so agonizingly slowly, knowing that you’ll hit the ground soon but all you can do is think about how you’re going to die and this is it and you have so much fucking time to think about that fact.
Or frozen in marble, unable to move but still alive, watching for years as vines climb up your stone body and the forest thickens around you and sometimes people pass by, visit, examine you, but you can’t scream or move so you just watch and wish you could cry as you watch them walk away.
Or making your way through an enormous facility, braving overgrown animals and rickety structures and collapsing ceilings and horrors you can’t even begin to describe, and the moment you reach the surface and think you’re finally, FINALLY out, your face falls as you see the state of the barren earth and hear nothing. See no movement. And you realize, with complete and utter hopelessness, that you are the last person left after the world has been killed, maybe in one fell swoop of a scythe or centuries of torment and loss, but that neither even matters because what are you supposed to do now. Was breaking out worth it? What happened to everything? Why you?
Anyways. This post is about Making Your Way Home by Masatoshi Yanagi from The Evil Within 2 soundtrack.
#IM REALLY EMOTIONAL ABOUT THIS SONG#i have been for a while#but like#horror osts#in general#are So Good and so emotional and make me feel things i cannot describe#unless theyre in convoluted ways like this#the evil within#the evil within 2#son of a BITCH this fucking track.#i cry to it frequently
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Cas + Faith
9/?- 5x16: Dark Side of the Moon
The alternate quotes are from the discussion of this moment in episode 23 of @thecascast, Dark Side of the Cas. The idea of doing a series following Cas' faith journey had been floating around in my head for a while, but this discussion is what lead to me actually doing this series so thanks y'all.
ID: Three images of a digital drawing of Cas from episode 5x16 of Supernatural. The drawing shows Cas' head and shoulders, viewed from above, with his face turned upwards towards the viewer. His expression is upset. The background is in shades of orange and the drawing is set within a circle, with a quote around the outside. In the the first image, the words read "Fuck you. I believed in-". In the second image, the words read "You son of a bitch. I believed in-". In the third image, the words read "You coward. I believed in-". The difference in the quotes is the only difference between the three images. End ID.
#cas#castiel#supernatural#spn#CasFaithSeries#spn 5x16#dark side of the moon#finally got to the one that started it all#relistening to this one while drawing this and gotta say. good ep team#cas is SUCH a character always but also specifically in this ep#he can never go home!! hes in the radio! hes in the tv! he says condolences!#he's a train without tracks!! im screaming!!!! i love this dude!!!!#the son of a bitch line doesnt take me out of the scene as much as yall talked about cuz i am always too busy being sad HOWEVER#i do prefer you coward it feels more cas-like and it just hits harder imo#and fuck you is just... mwah!#cas should get to say fuck!!
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I think I will go to sleep (it is 4pm)
#bahrain gp 2023#WHY IS IT ALWAYS CHARLES??#Never Carlos#never ever Carlos#it’s always Charles#fuck all y’all#NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO#I spoke too soon about Lando’s lockup#“most eliciting thing that’s happened all race#sees a Ferrari stopped on track#are you joking#FERRARI YOU SONS OF BITCHES I AM GOING TO BOMB YOU#f1#formula 1
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ok logically i KNOW and feel that tmwwbk is a heartbreaking ep ok but. the lighting. did misha’s face. so many favors. the crisp lighting in the beginning. the holy oil fire. they really said, “he’s a liar but make it 💫 Burberry 💫”
#like logically I’m like Cas with agency! Dean willfully ignoring the lies because Cas hasn’t lied to him before!#and what’s BONKERS is Dean is absolutely the most distrusting son of a bitch EXCEPT for when it comes to Cas#Cas could tell Dean the sun rises in the West and Dean would be like ‘angels track direction differently I’m sure he’s mistaken and/or right#normally Sam and Dean are flipped— Dean is distrusting and Sam is willing to give benefit#but if it’s about Cas#Dean is the opposite#I think that’s what makes tmwwbk so appealing to me#the dynamic shift is so so so interesting#watching Cas lie and hear his reasoning trying to protect them and preserve his good standing#later seasons— they’ve all fucked up so many times#but this ep is like. Cas’s first BIG betrayal. and it strikes right in the HEART of tfw#and I can’t even blame cas for lying. I would too#DEAN TELLING SAM AND BOBBY THAT CAS IS THEIR FRIEND AND THEY ARE LYING TO HIM#while Cas is lying to them!!!#I can’t#Cas is watching Dean defend him so staunchly and I can’t blame Cas for wanting to be the person Dean sees him as#‘the worst part was Dean trying so hard to be loyal with every instinct telling him otherwise’#AHHHHHH#tmwwbk makes me feral
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tell me you love me | l. norris
hypothesis - on days like these, where everything just seems to go wrong, the uttered words from your boyfriend is the only cure.
pairing - lando norris x fem!driver!reader
[fic is inspired by “tell me you love me” by demi lovato]
“i need someone on days like this, i do”
“are you fucking kidding me right now?” you groan as your car’s engine died, right at the turn of the finish line. right at the turn of qualifying for the miami grand prix.
“come on, come on,” practically begging the car, trying to see if you could just get it back to life, to salvage the last bit of your pride that’s hanging on by a damn thin thread.
slamming your hands on the wheel, “son of a bitch!”
“lost power,” you sigh into your ear piece, defeated. laying your head on your hands that rested in the steering wheel.
this is really just what you needed.
another layer of cake on your already shitty day.
first the argument you had with lando this morning, really, about something so imbecile silly that you can actually laugh about it right now. running late, missing your shoe, bumping your hip on the counter - sure to leave a nasty bruise and lando not wanting to get out of the bed.
silly, right?
and now this.
“what happened?” zac questioned, concerned. the car was perfectly fine yesterday, practically soaring all over the track. you were sure that you’d start first pole by how the car roared.
“you fucking tell me,” you didn’t mean to be so harsh. zac’ question just scratched that itchy irritable spot that has been bothering you, all day.
zac sighed, not commenting on your response, sensing how it’ll make the situation worse.
knowing that if he said anything about your starting pole, which you already definitely knew, you’d blow your head.
smart man.
“sending tow, stay there.”
like you’d be going any fucking where.
~~
a coffee. that’s what you needed. a strong one at that.
with your suit arms tied around your hips you walk the way of the holy grail, not really observing your surroundings and stumbling straight into the blistering coffee cup of one of mclaren’s mechanics.
the liquid seeping through your shirt, burning your skin. his cup falling to the ground and shattering in hundreds of little pieces.
“y/n,” the mechanic was quick to react, grabbing napkins that rested on the edge of the table, dabbing at the material, pressing into your now third degree burn.
why didn’t you pay attention? why where you so wrapped up in your head?
why?
“just leave it,” hissing, you swatted the napkin from his hand, you take the route back to your room. the ceramic pieces crunching under your shoes.
with a hand pressed to your head, you can already feel the lump forming in your throat, eyes burning as tears well up behind your eyes. you bite your lip, you won’t succumb to today, you won’t show your white flag just yet.
you won’t acknowledge the pitying looks from everyone on your team.
you won’t acknowledge the murmurs on the paddock of mclaren’s worst starting pole.
you won’t acknowledge the desire you feel to be wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms.
you just won’t.
another, beautiful layer of cake stacked.
~~
“really?” you whine as you pat your pockets, looking for the keycard that’s used to unlock the door, but it comes out empty.
damn zac for changing the locks. damn the security protocol.
you left, or more like forgot, it at home. on the counter, where you usually leave it. your shoulders sag and with your back turned to the door you glide down it. arms wrapped around your knees and head rested on it.
here it comes, the wall to the well finally comes crashing down and the first tear rolls down your cheek landing on the coffee stain.
you finally hoist your white flag, today won.
a pretty red cherry on top of your stacked cake. a delicious topping.
“there you are,” a muppet voice says, breaking you from the train of thoughts that’s currently speeding down the tracks in your mind.
you look up, and lando is peeping around the corner of the wall.
on every other day you would’ve laughed at the sight.
your lip trembles and a new wave of tears wells up behind your eyes. lando makes quick work to scramble towards you, crouching down in front of you.
“hey, hey, no, none of that,” he’s gentle. he brought his hands up to your face, wiping the stray tears that ran down your face. you lean into his touch, and finally, something that feels right for today.
“turn that frown upside down,” he says in a sing song voice, a smile creeping onto his lips. the gaps in his teeth more than welcoming.
you bite on your bottom lip, the corners of your mouth slightly lifting.
but lando takes that as a success nonetheless.
“there she is, my beautiful girl.”
a sob like snort leaves your mouth and lando can’t keep that muppet laugh of his in any longer.
hair that fell around your face, he pushed it behind your ears, “rumour has it that someone is having one hell of a day.”
you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your shirt, “really? who is it? max?”
“ah, sarcasm, it’s welcoming,” lando jokes.
rolling your eyes you look at his, wispy lashes, a light shade of red tint on the apples of his cheeks, “just tell me you love me, norris.”
“i love you.”
he leans closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“i love you,” a kiss to your brow.
“i love you,” a kiss to your cheek.
“i love you,” a kiss on your nose.
“i love you,” a final kiss to your lips.
“i love you.”
fin.
#lando norris#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris fluff#formula one#formula 1#f1 2024#f1 x reader#f1 one shot#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1#carlos sainz#max verstappen#x reader#charles leclerc x reader#max verstappen x reader#carlos sainz x reader#fluff
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what we do in the shadows |familiar!eddie munson x vampire!reader|
prompt: eddie is your familiar, but sometimes, he can be more than just your supernatural servant.
based off the fx show, what we do in the shadows. a little au version with eddie and the gang from hawkins :)
contains: au. familiar!eddie, vampire!reader. mentions of murder. vampire things. blood. types of vampires (energy vampire lol). mean! bitchy! reader. alludes to smut?? sorta smut but not really but slight dom!reader x sub!eddie. language. minors dni.
“Eddie!”
The muffled screech jolted Eddie from his mundane dusting, the feathered duster falling with a heavy thud onto the dark carpet, dust flying in a cloud at his feet. “Son of a bitch,” Eddie huffed, chains of his belt rattling when he bent, snatching the duster off the rug.
“Eddie! Can you not hear me?” The piercing scream echoed through the hallway, echoing off the dark, wallpapered walls. Eddie knew he needed to hurry, that the banging on the coffin’s lid would come next, your fury following for the rest of the day.
“I’m coming, Mistress!” Eddie’s teeth gritted, sliding down the dim, candlelit halls. How this place had managed to not burn down yet, Eddie wasn’t sure. The three of you were careless enough with the candles, always leaving them burning without a care. He supposed it was his job.
“Eddie! Where the fuck is he?” Your muffled tone came from the coffin, black and dramatic in the middle of the room.
“I’m here, I’m here.” Eddie huffed, pushing his bangs back out of his eyes. He needed a haircut, desperately, but with his new career, he supposed that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.
“Finally,” You growled. Eddie was met with your glowing amber eyes narrowing in predatory rage when he lifted the coffin’s heavy lid. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting?” You snapped.
“I’m sorry.” Eddie nodded, swallowing back a snapping comment. “I was dusting down the hall, and I lost track of-”
“-Nevermind.” You snapped, rising quickly into a standing position. “Help me down. I have much to do today.”
“Yes, Mistress.” Eddie stood to the side, offering his hand for you to take as you climbed down. He always wondered why you insisted on being helped out, as if you couldn’t fly out, snap your fingers and be wherever you wanted to be. It was symbolic, he decided, a way to ensure that he knew his place.
Your hand slid into his. His skin tickled when you brushed your long, claw-like nails that were freshly painted every Tuesday. He’d gotten very good at it, Eddie thought. A hiss fell through the room, your hand pulled back with a sizzling burn, teeth bared towards him in threat.
“What- Eddie! What have I told you about those rings?” You pointed accusingly at his rings- silver. It was a habit, to slip them on in the morning, one he hadn’t broken yet. “Are you trying to hurt me?”
“No, no.” Eddie shook his head frantically, tugging the rings off, shoving them in his pocket. “I’m sorry. I-I forgot-”
“-I’m sure you did.” You rolled your eyes, lips pursed in displeasure. “Don’t let it happen again. I burn myself again on those cursed things, and you’ll not have a hand to put them on anymore. Understand?” You clipped, nose in the air as you climbed down, nails digging into his skin just enough to solidify the threat.
“Yes, Mistress.” Eddie swallowed, following the commanding sway of your hips. “I won’t let it happen again.”
“Good.” You chirped. There it was. The whirlwind that was your emotions. Mood swings, Eddie never understood why they called them that until he met you. How you would go from raging to sweet in the bat of an eye. Maybe it came with being a vampire.
“Get my dress.” You waved your hand, the heavy mahogany closet door flinging open with ease.
“Which one were you wanting today?” Eddie swallowed his agitated sigh.
It had been a rough couple of days, the three- fuck, four, of his new found ‘roommates’ had been on a bender of sorts. A bender that would put the rockstars he idolized in high school to shame, much more metal than them. It was fun, Eddie would admit, but it was tiresome. Especially when he was still very much human, and so very exhausted.
“The black one.” You hummed, looking into a mirror you couldn’t see yourself in. Habit, of course, even after all these years.
“They’re all black, Mistress.” Eddie gritted, eyes pinching closed.
“The one with the long sleeves.” You waved him off. “You know the one I like.”
And he did. Eddie knew most everything about you at this point. Which dress you liked, your preference of food source, how many candles you liked lit at a time.
Eddie pushed through the racks, stopping when he saw the velvet garment. It was what you were wearing when he first met you. At the Hideout, where he was still bussing tables, hoping to finally get a weekend gig. You strolled in, magnetic from the moment his eyes laid eyes on you. So… intriguing in your tight velvet dress, fastened with a corset that held you up and in beautifully. Initially, he’d went to try and ask you out, and you’d humored his attempts because you were hungry. Then, after a few hours of conversation, you both decided he’d be a better Familiar than a meal.
“Eddie,” You hissed, breath whistling through your fangs. The sound never failed to make Eddie’s spine tingle, hair raising on the back of his neck in fear. “Have you hit your head? Is that it?”
“No,” Eddie grumbled, pushing the wooden hangers.
“Then what is it? Hm? Why are you dragging your feet today?” You snapped, hands curling around your hips.
“My apologies, Mistress.” Eddie huffed. “I’m just- nevermind. Here. I found it.” Eddie pulled the lacy material, hanging sleeves and bouts of black fabric out of the closet, hanging it on the door for you.
“No, finish what you were going to say.” Your eyes narrowed into his, commanding, but lacking the usual tone of challenge and threat. “You’re what?”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine. Do you need help zipping up this one-”
“-No, answer me, Eddie.” You lifted a finger towards him. “Do not make me use compulsion. I know how groggy and moody you get after it, and I have many plans for today. I’d rather not, but if you’re not going to comply, then I will be forced to-”
“-You don’t have to- Fuck, I’m just tired.” Eddie’s shoulders slumped in defeat, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Why?” Your head tilted, lips pursed in curiosity, reaching for the dress before sliding behind the dressing curtain.
“Because,” Eddie tried to focus on the carpet, on the candle wax that dripped off the table, anywhere but the curtain you were behind though he ached for even a silhouetted sliver of your frame. “I just couldn’t sleep.”
“Maybe you should get a coffee?” You peaked over the bamboo wood, a brow lifting in… playfulness?
“I think Robin has the lock box in her room. Ask her for it and go get yourself one.” As if draining a victim of their blood wasn’t enough, Eddie’s career consisted of stealing from them too. It always left him feeling a little uneasy, guilty, robbing the deceased.
“I’m alright. I just need a second to wake up.” Eddie muttered, heel of his palm pressing to his eyes, rubbing so hard he saw stars.
“Fine, but I better not hear one yawn during the house meeting.” You glared, stepping out from behind the dressing curtain. “You know how that irks me. Zip me.”
Eddie stood, one hand holding the top together, pulling the zipper slowly up your spine, finger brushing over your spine. Your skin was cold, like ice, a chilling reminder of what you truly were.
“Last chance.” You turned, swiping your shoes from the floor, discarded from the night before. “Before I go and wake the others.”
“I’m fine.” Eddie nodded softly, lips curling with the hinting of a smile. “Thank you.”
Your lips pursed, shifting at the sudden gratitude. He knew you were about to say something mean, put him down to establish your own dominance, you were predictable that way. “Don’t thank me,” You scoffed. “It’s not for you. I don’t want to hear your yawning.” You scoffed, eyes rolling hard towards him, before you were stomping down the creaking wooden planks of the hall.
The Creel Mansion was still standing strong, despite its abandoned looking exterior. It had been your refuge for years, decades even, since Victor had first brought you there. It was his house before, but now all that remained of him was a portrait at the end of the hall, half covered by a black veil you refused to let Eddie move.
“Robin!” Your shrill tone made Eddie wince, ears ringing at the pitch. “Nancy!”
“What?” Robin groaned, her voice muffled with sleep from the door of her coffin, which you pulled open, uncaring of disrupting her slumber. “What- Why?”
“House meeting. Hurry, before he gets home.” You muttered, turning over your shoulder towards Eddie. “Eddie, go check downstairs. Make sure he didn’t slip in early.”
Eddie nodded, grabbing a small handheld lantern- a gift from you. He kept burning himself with the candle opera you’d gifted him, and when he wasn’t searing his skin off with the flame, he was turning to quickly and extinguishing all the flames. You told him it was because he’d wake you up with his fumbling in the dark. When you’d included the batteries with the small lantern, Eddie was convinced it was because you were growing a soft spot for him.
A creaking of a door had Eddie jumping, looking through the flickering flames with his bright plastic lantern. “Uh, hey,” Eddie stepped closer. “Anyone there?”
The silence was an eerie answer, Eddie swinging the lantern around. It was times like this, he really wished that the electricity still worked, that he could flick a light on, and see what was lurking in the shadows. The dining room appeared empty, a few spider webs and lots of dust, but lack of any danger Eddie could see.
“Looking for something?”
“Jesus Christ! What the fuck-” Eddie jumped, nearly dropping his lantern, tripping over his own feet to scatter away from the figure in front of him.
“Did I scare ya?” Jonathan’s lips curled in a half smile, standing rigidly in the doorway. “You know, they say if you get scared easily, you’re not living right. That’s a saying that’s been repeated and found all throughout history. In Christianity, oddly enough, is where they-”
“-Alright, Jonathan. I got it.” Eddie lifted a hand, his heart still hammering. He could feel his lids beginning to droop, eyes starting to gloss over the way they always did when Jonathan ‘fed’. A shitty excuse for a vampire, Eddie thought, What the fuck even is a psychic vampire?
“Oh,” Your face fell, contorting into a grimace when you came down the steps. “Jonathan, you are home early today.”
“Yes, I decided to come home early today.” Jonathan droned in a painful monotone that had your shoulders tensing. “I didn’t want to miss the house meeting.”
“Wonderful.” You grimaced, looking at Eddie with an annoyed sneer. He fought back a snicker, turning to the bat down a cobweb that he missed. You could be funny at times, when you wanted.
“I know you three tried to hide it from me, but you always talk too loud. You forget the walls are thin. Which reminds me, did you know that back in the early nineteen-hundreds when this house was first built, that architects of that time used-”
“-Yes, Jonathan. Please, shut the fuck up.” Robin groaned, falling into the leather armchair.
“Jonathan, I really can’t humor you today.” Nancy glared at him lightly. “You know the rules, if you’re going to be in a house meeting with us, you can’t feed off of us.”
“I know.” Jonathan lifted his hands. “Sorry, I can’t help myself.” He turned to Eddie with a grin. “Guess it’s just you I’ll be feeding from.”
“Not from my Familiar either, Jonathan.” You snapped, teeth baring in territorial threat. “Eddie is off limits.” Eddie’s chest swelled with pride, chin tipping towards the floor, hoping it would hide his blush.
“Why are we even having a house meeting?” Robin rolled her eyes, the bags under her eyes especially prominent from lack of slumber.
“Because,” You hissed, shoulders tight with annoyance. “You three need to get your own familiar.”
Robin scoffed, Nancy rolling her eyes in agreement. “What?”
“You three always call for Eddie to do everything, and it distracts him from me.” You jabbed a sharp nail into your chest. “I need him to be attentive to my needs, not yours. Go get your own familiar.”
“Oh, please-”
“-We only ask him to do a few things that should already be done-”
“-I have to agree with Rob and Nance on this one.” Jonathan lifted a finger.
“Do not call me that.” Nancy hissed, her teeth baring in the dull light of the room.
“Nan?” Jonathan turned, eyes lighting up though his expression stayed neutral, the way it always did when he was feeding.
“Ok,” You lifted your hands, stopping the attack Nancy was about to launch. “Find your own familiar. Eddie is my familiar, and is to attend to me exclusively.”
“I’m sure he does.” Robin muttered, Nancy’s snicker making your ears burn- well, it would, if they still could. Eddie’s cheeks did burn a bright red, shifting at the innuendo.
Your eyes narrowed, a threatening glare that neither of your roommates seemed phased by, only furthering your irritation. A sharp snap of your fingers, heavy soled steps clicking down the hall, and Eddie was following you.
“Idiots,” You hissed, flinging the door open. “All of them. I should’ve told them no, that they’d have to find their own nest, but oh no. I had to feel fucking generous and kind that day.”
Eddie stood in your doorway, hands rubbing down the material of his jeans, unsure of what to say, what to do. His eyes on you, waiting for your next command, for you to tell him what you were wanting, what you were thinking.
“Are you just going to stand there?” You huffed, a lashing tone that had Eddie jumping.
“No, wha-what do you need me to do?” Eddie stammered, uneasy with the glare you were giving him, so menacing. He knew better, or at least he thought he did, that you wouldn’t hurt him. You’d chosen him to be your Familiar for a reason… right?
“I don’t know, something?” You scoffed, eyes rolling back over his frame. “Maybe start with changing your clothes. We’re going out tonight and I’m not being seen with you in that.”
Eddie’s lips pursed, jaw grinding tight. He’d blame the lack of sleep on his agitation. “What do you want me to wear then, Mistress?” Eddie’s tone was bitter, toying on the edge of annoyance.
“Who are you speaking to-”
“-You.” Eddie snapped, shocking both of you. There was a pause, realization washing over the two of you. “I just- I like what I have on, ok?” Eddie’s tone was softer, looking down at his ripped jeans and holey band tee. “It’s what people from this century wear.”
Your lips rolled, flattening into a furious line. For a moment, Eddie thought you might pounce- fully preparing himself for the hiss, the baring of teeth, to feel his throat being ripped from his neck. Instead, you simply huffed, turning on your foot.
“Fine.” A quipping, positively moody huff of a reply came. In that moment, you sounded petulant, human.
“If you insist on wearing mauled clothing, then so be it.” You shrugged, a snarl still pulling on the edge of your lips.
“Thank you.” Eddie nodded, swallowing down the tremble in his throat. “And, uh, thank you for before, too.” You turned, brow lifted in intrigue. “For- During the meeting.”
“I didn’t do that for you.” Your reply was quick, teetering on defensive. “I did that for myself. I can’t wait for you because they’re too lazy to go out and compel their own Familiar.”
“Right.” Eddie’s shoulders slumped in defeat. He gave up, ready to throw the towel in. Clearly, you were set on your mood and there would be no changing it. No swaying it with charming kindness today.
“I’m going to go.” Eddie stepped towards the door. “I’ll go dust or something. Just let me know when you’re ready to go-”
“-No.” Your voice echoed through the halls, bouncing off the walls, a sense of urgency that had Eddie freezing.
You wrung your hands in front of you, anxiously. “No, just- stay in here.”
Eddie frowned. “You just told me to go do something.”
“I know,” You huffed. “But, just stay in here with me. Robin and Nancy won’t be ready for hours, and… and if you go down there Jonathan will try to feed and drain you, and-”
Eddie recognized the ramble in your tone, a sliver of humanity breaking through the cracks of your cold, monstrous exterior. It was rare, you to turn soft like this- needy, but Eddie knew why you did it. He knew what you wanted.
“Fine.” Eddie nodded, stepping into your bedroom, shutting the door carefully so the candles didn’t blow out.
A lingering pause fell between the two of you, thick with an uncomfortable but familiar tension. Routine but an oddity all the same.
“What do you want me to do in here, hm?” Eddie’s voice dropped, slow steps across the hardwood towards you. “Just sit here and stare at you.”
“No,” Your chest tightened. It had been years since your heart had beat, but you swore Eddie could make it skip. “Surely, there’s something better that we could do to pass the time.” You declared, voice a little shaky with desperation to regain your control.
“Yeah? What do you have in mind?” Eddie’s lips curled in a smirk, his face near inches from yours. “I’m at your service, Mistress.”
Your body tingled with heat, the only warmth you craved, the only warmth you needed. You were shocked, when you first transitioned to your undead state, that this feeling didn’t go away. If anything, it grew stronger.
“I think you know what I have in mind.” You glared at him, half heartedly. “Don’t make me beg, or I’ll make you beg later.”
“I would never, Mistress.” Your thighs twitched, Eddie’s hands sliding over the lacy material of your dress, the swell of your hips. “I’m your faithful servant. You just tell me what you want- whatever you need.”
“Hm,” You breathed slowly, your body closing in with him, chest to chest. Your nails raked over the etched skin of his forearms, dragging a sharp nail up his neck, to his jaw. Eddie shuddered, fingers sinking into your waist
Your lip grazed over his, mouth parting just barely, your fangs hovering over his bottom lip teasingly. Eddie swallowed back a moan that you didn’t miss. Your eyes met his, darker now- nearly black, the way they always darkened when you got like this. Aroused and needy, entirely hungry for something.
“You’ve got to be quiet this time.” You gave him a pointed look. “They heard last time. They’re starting to catch on.”
“Sorry.” Eddie swallowed, nose brushing over yours. He wanted to press his hand to the back of your head, kiss you with an urgency, but he knew better. That wasn’t how you liked it. Oh no, you liked the anticipation, the adrenaline filled excitement that came with teasing.
“Who cares if they know anyways?” Eddie muttered brainlessly, eyes glossing when they met yours. “What’s so wrong with it?”
“It’s unnatural.” You whispered. “Complicated.”
“What’s so complicated about it?” Eddie scoffed lightly, hand sliding up your spine, towards your zipper. “You’re turning me into a vampire anyways, right? Why’s it matter?”
You hesitated, breath hitching and ghosting over his lip, chilling him. “It’s just- it makes things difficult now.” You stammered, fingers sliding through his hair. “I don’t want to talk about that now.” Your thumbs pressed lightly to his temples, his eyes meeting yours.
“For now,” You purred, lips curling in a small grin. “I think you should thank me again, but this time,” Your nose brushed over his. “By letting me sit on your face. That seems fair, right? You thank me, I keep you quiet- a win-win.”
Eddie blushed, lips spreading in a wide grin. “Yes, Mistress.”
#oneforthemunny#munnytalks#eddie munson au#familiar!eddie munson#familiar!eddie#familiar!eddie munson x vampire!reader#vampire au#robin buckley#robin buckley stranger things#robin buckley au#nancy wheeler#nancy wheeler stranger things#stranger things#stranger things 4#eddie stranger things#nancy wheeler au#jonathan byers#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x fem!reader smut#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie x reader#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfic
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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 6
summary ;; This is the reality of Jake Sully: the father and Olo'eyktan of the People cannot coexist, Eywa teaches her lessons in the toughest ways.
PART 5 | NEXT (wip)
pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader
genre ;; pure angst and family feels
notes / explanations ;; well this took a hot minute. am back on my bs
WARNING for violence and t0rture, reader discretion is advised. Please excuse my mistakes if you see any!
Jake moved on pure primitive instinct, unbridled arctic rage honing all his senses into one laser point of focus. It wasn’t survival, and it surely wasn’t prey running from predator, there was nothing noble about what he was trying to achieve.
That avatar was going to die today, and Jake was going to make it hurt. No fair game. No warrior’s death. No respect.
Devoid of the shape of humanity or the ties that bound him to it, he was the embodiment of a creature’s killer intent, body taking over and consciousness disappearing to the backseat as he catapulted his tomahawk at the avatar, taking advantage of the miniscule opening provided by a magazine change needed after emptying all of his bullets to a Jake luring him into wasting his resources away.
The dull squelch of the hand-carved ax’s head plunging into flesh couldn’t be dampened by the avatar’s choked and short shout, and Jake was jumping out of cover in no time, a bull to red, advancing towards the man, footsteps not hidden out of having no concern for it at all, let him panic or try to struggle for all Jake cared.
Opposite of what he expected, the rifle wasn’t picked up or fumbled to aim at him. The avatar, pale in the face and pupils having devoured the yellow, fear trumping the pain of his arm almost sliced off from shoulder, crawled away on his back from Jake in full speed, getting up before Jake could reach him, and started staggering into the forest, dropping the tomahawk in the process.
Jake stopped in his tracks for a moment and picked his weapon up, the dark liquid glistening purple in the light of the Tree of Souls, droplets of blood making the moss light up as they hit the ground. His chest heaved in controlled, loud breaths, mouth pulled back in a snarl, watching the pathetic son of a bitch trying to get away.
He was one of the lot who’d shot you, hurt you, tortured you — simply to get a reaction out of Jake.
He was the one who pulled Jake away before he could fix his mistakes, undo the damage they had done, and get you back.
Jake was so close. So close.
You were there. You were right there. He could still feel you in his arms, his shoulder imprinted with your tears, shiest of smiles at a better future he could build with you from the burnt soil of your relationship.
If it hadn’t been for him…
That man was your murderer.
He deserved the hell of a father’s making.
This avatar was a marine — and the fucking idiot was running into the oblivion blind worse than a normal civilian would in this situation, had all those years of training evaporated in one second? Jake’s steps were determined, yet lax following after the guy, nose picking up the trail of blood left behind, eyes watching the red splatters. This was all Hansel and Gretel for him, playing follow the breadcrumbs.
The sound of thumping, frantic running, bumping into obstacles, crashing into flora, all was distinguishable from the natural song of the forest Jake had gotten so familiar with in these fifteen years. No response came from the avatar, but Jake wasn’t hurrying. He would have him. Let the bastard tire himself out first — but he wouldn’t let him die. No. He could smell the fear, the blood, anger at bay, all ice, knowing the trees would carry all the sounds he needed to Jake. He could hear exactly where the avatar was. and If he was hoping he’d bleed himself out faster than Jake could reach him to save himself from what was going to happen, well…
He’d better start praying for mercy to whatever deity held his worthless faith, because Jake had none of it. They had no mercy for you, his sinless, innocent child, all but wails and yelps and blood, and apologies for it.
Every time Jake thought of you in that tremendous pain to the brink of delirium, he burned in his heart’s ice until he was black and purple all over. Your smile was so real, your embrace was tiny and warm in his arms and he had a chance, the only chance no parent could ever get in this life. Jake had dissolved together with that mirage.
The part of him engulfed in flames wanted to end this quickly and painfully—to burn it all, break that man in, scream his lungs out, the other part of him, frozen fury that scalded over in the loss of you, wanted to draw it out, wanted to inflict never-ending pain, to bring the avatar back from the brink of death over and over again just to repeat it in a cycle.
His child. His baby.
The ties that held Jake together were getting pulled tight, the pressure building like deep water currents, thinner threads snapping and crackling, body being pulled to all five directions from all five limbs. Awareness went out and barged its way back in hot flashes, he couldn’t comprehend the passing of time and how long he let your murderer catch the delusion of shaking Jake off his tail — but, his instincts knew to reveal himself before the avatar could be claimed by blood loss.
Dangling hope right in front of his face just to snatch it away wasn’t enough. It could never be enough compared to you who had dragged your own corpse back home, muted to your own pain cocooned between those who should have meant nothing but home and safety to you. Torture. You had lived torture in your last hours with help just one step, one word away.
Nothing would ever be enough.
Jake emerged from the thick flora like the grim reaper himself who would always be waiting right at the spot of the reaping wherever the soul ran away to, detached and unimpressed, blank face not reflecting the scorched soul inside. The almost passed out avatar jolted awake when he smelled the smoke from Jake’s shadow falling on him, and could only press his back further to the body of the cluster of big rocks he had taken shelter against as if somehow becoming one with it could shield him away from Jake’s wrath.
The man’s breathing was getting louder and shakier the more Jake stood there motionless. “C’mon then,” he said between clenched teeth, spasming hand dropping from his mutilated shoulder, squaring up the last drops of his courage. “Get on with it.”
Jake’s whitened fingers were making noise against the handle of his tomahawk, but his voice was hauntingly hollow, unfeeling now that he had the man right in his palm. “Thought I should let you live what you did to my daughter first.”
The avatar began to scream. “Fuck you, man, we didn’t do none of this shit to that kid—”
Jake’s tone didn’t change, but it cut worse than a knife. “You killed my kid.”
His eyes widened, breath hitching, the reality of what was coming to him finally sinking in and Jake witnessed every panicked second of it. “Fuck…” His gaze wildly alternated between Jake and the tomahawk, raising his better, trembling hand up for feeble defense. “Look, look, listen, we didn’t kill her, alright? We patched her up, okay, she was going to be a prisoner, what happened happened because you engaged in battle, we wouldn’t do that to a—AGH!”
He was interrupted by Jake sharply shoving the head of the tomahawk into his injury, just putting it in there, not moving it further down. “Do you have children, marine?”
The man palmed at the weapon, fingernails digging into the wood, but no matter how much he pushed, it didn’t budge one bit. “Stop, stop! Fuck—”
Jake repeated again, firmer. “I asked you a question, do you have children?”
“No!— No, god, argh!”
He spaced out for a while, watching him squirm and trash to get away with defeated, half-assed attempts, also unable to because of how much of an immovable object Jake was making the weapon buried in the open wound be. It would hit the bone if he used more strength.
With a fixed, stony stare, Jake removed the tomahawk, waiting for the man’s deplorable whimpers to recede before breaking him the news like reading it off a doctor’s report. “You won’t get to have any.”
He didn’t look like he cared about something like that, but the man knew his fate insinuated by the words. Nevertheless,it didn’t mean he could be free from the survivor’s instinct’s mood swings his body was putting him through. Denial to bargaining within minutes. “Just kill me already, you deserter piece of—”
“Oh, no, no no,” Jake reassured, the only flicker of emotion he had shown since he’d cornered the avatar. “You won’t get to die for a long time, either.”
The avatar grunted, head falling down before he started to shake it. “Please just let it end—man, just let it end, I’m sorry, okay, please!” A whole body-trembling begging shifted to anger the more Jake remained non-responsive. Watching. Just watching. The hole in his chest getting wider the more he fed this man’s suffering to it — it wasn’t enough. “Just fucking do it! Pussy ass bitch! Come on you blue motherfucker, kill me! Kill m—”
“Are you the one who shot my daughter?”
“What?”
“Are you. The one. Who shot my daughter?”
The avatar’s face twisted. “It wasn’t me—it wasn’t—asshole, you already killed the guy, I didn’t fucking do anything!—”
“You... didn’t do anything?”
A beat. The forest fell silent in Jake’s ears. Just like how the noises you made had abruptly died down as he was putting pressure on your wound.
And like that, the thick haze that had Jake desensitized blew over, unadulterated anger rushed to his body, acidic and nauseating, soul stitching back to his limbs by a million needles and he began to shake, face contorting, teeth showing itself, the hiss that lacerated his throat was the most terrifying one of his life yet, it didn’t sound like it belonged to a sentient being, twisted by a grieving, demented animalistic horror. The avatar’s breath hitched, whatever protest and voice he had escaping deep inside his body, ears pinned back to his head.
“Of course,” Jake glowered, swallowing the scorching stones blocking his throat. He closed his burning eyes, and was greeted by the image of you, opening them back again, and shaking the ax as if it was an accusing finger.
And without a word of warning, his hand shot down and grabbed the avatar from the neck of his tactical vest, hurling him over the chest-level array of big rocks forming a pointy bed above, ignoring the cries of pain as the abused, torn open flesh of the wound dragged through the sharp teeth of the gravel, dousing them in blood. “Please, please, stop!—I’m sorry, I was wrong, that wasn’t right, shit, shit!”
Jake snatched the man’s dominant arm that was coincidentally the same one dangling by fractured bone and tendons from the shoulder. His soul had known what he wanted right from the start before his brain had processed it. “This hand,” he spat, holding it from the wrist, gnashing his teeth. “that pulled the trigger at me…”
Murdered his daughter for a second time.
All a soldier’s worth for. One hand to hold the stock tight against the body and one to fire. All that to take a single life.
Leaning the hand down against the rock in a sudden move, Jake slammed on the blunt, pointy end of the tomahawk on it like he was hammering a nail, the sickening crack of the bones breaking got followed by the avatar’s fractured scream.
Jake saw you hunched, cheekily laughing in the blue and purple of the creek, freckles glowing because of the eclipse, silhouette illuminated by the floating bioluminescent bugs.
Spinning the tomahawk in his clammy hand in a full 360 turn, he smashed it down once more, stronger. The metal broke skin and sank into spongy muscle. His ears were buzzing, ringing from how the shrill yells.
Jake was hugging you after what seemed to be years, and your little arms were clinging to him for life — you were sand slipping from his fingers.
Jake hammered again.
You were telling him how mean he was to you, your voice suppressing the avatar’s.
He brought it down one more time and felt the tomahawk recoil from hitting rock.
You were bashful as you repeated how Jake would always love you.
Guttural breaths getting louder with effort each hit, he kept slamming it down until everything was his beautiful little sweet girl.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again and again and again and again and again until there was no resistance from the limb anymore and the man had gone silent and it was all mashed meat he was pounding—
And then he almost plunged it to your bleeding, battered corpse, your stomach covered in reddish brown from the dried brown, body ashen blue, and Jake cried out in terror, jumping back and losing strength in his legs as the tomahawk flew from his hand and he fell over.
His lungs constricted, refusing to take any breaths in and his heart ricocheted around in his ribcage, he was gaping at the wall of rock now washed red as if it was some white rose painted red in Alice in Wonderland.
Jake sat there for the longest time, dissociated.
In those moments, he wasn’t Toruk Makto, he wasn’t Olo’eyktan, he wasn’t the pillar of a family of seven. He was simply Jake Sully.
However, he wasn’t allowed to be stripped down to the bone until all that’s left was a mourning father. That was Jake’s reality.
He had to cast the crippled man aside, the tragedy of his child away, and bring the leader of the People out right as your ghost rippled in his vision, watching spitefully within the forest — because all you wanted was for him to be your father, and he couldn’t even fucking do that after your death.
This avatar was a valuable asset, a hostage to question. For the sake of his people.
He wasn’t allowed revenge.
A single drop of tear rolled down expressionless face. When he looked down, Jake’s hands were still stained with your blood.
The only instance a child should be covered in blood is when they come out of their mother’s womb, little lungs being burned with existence for the first time, crying from the pain of being separated from Eywa’s arms, birth mother a complete stranger to them.
The gore of you barely clinging to life, unmoving, drenched in your own blood, wiped and wiped to the point Neytiri had to change buckets of water until it turned light pink was overlapping with the joyful image of your newborn self she had lovingly and gently cleaned of the remains of labor with wetted mothsilk, skin too sensitive for water for the moment, the blue coming alive as the blood and other clotted bodily fluids were cleansed.
It wasn’t the broken, ice-cold, lithe body of a young girl Neytiri had cleaned in the torment of her excoriated, unraveling mind, it was her baby’s. Her baby, her poor baby with a gaping hole in the middle of your body, memories marauding Neytiri’s lucidity.
She lived the moment of your first cleansing over and over again.
You were a particularly indomitable cryer, Neytiri had known you would be infamous for your battle cries right as she was brought back from the blackout of post-birth by your overly-healthy wailing — or perhaps you would best Ninat as a singer when you’d unapologetically blossom, but one thing was ascertained: her first daughter was a fierce, fiery blue ball of ardor compared to Neteyam, who was almost shy and reluctant in disturbing people around him in his weeping that a collective worry for his health had plagued the whole clan.
As you squirmed, smeared in chunks of her flesh and blood, as if you wanted to jump off from her arms and start walking already, Neytiri had smiled up at her Jake, your father, unable to take his eyes off you, stuck between awe and laughs that came and went. “She has your heart,” she’d told him, spent and hurting, but wonderfully alive. “Strong.”
He’d traced his thumb through her drenched hairline. “Lungs, you mean?” His scent, wind and hearthfire, had enveloped Neytiri when Jake had leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I think they’re yours.” The teasing about how you had made Neytiri scream in labor wouldn’t have gone unpunished if she wasn’t on the edge of sleep held up only by your crying, so, he’d gotten a light hit on the side of his face instead. But Jake knew how to apologize, he’d always been spectacular at it. “I’d say she takes after me in appearance, look at her little ugly face.”
To Neytiri, you were beautiful, face dark purple from how strong you were screaming, and a mini-village elder with the wrinkles, swinging those little fists — things that made you lovely in her eyes. Her first daughter.
She had learned motherhood from Neteyam, but she would learn to understand her mother and her choices through you, someone she thought couldn’t be more different from her — Neytiri, all Mo’at could have been, and Mo’at, all Neytiri might have become, once. She prayed you would love her as much as she’d begun to love you the second you were in her arms.
To think the enormity of her love hadn’t reached you — it was one of the greatest failures of Neytiri’s life. If it had, you’d be wounded, but perfectly conscious and well in her mother’s tent. If it had, you would have been beyond comfortable telling those demons had hurt you.
In that all-consuming devastation, the woven towel she was using to wipe the thin sheet of sweat that formed on your body slipped from her uncoordinated hands and fell on your chest, and Neytiri had to hold back the breath that spiked to become a hiccup by covering her mouth, and immediately, her curled hand was engulfed in a smaller, five-fingered one. She came eye-to-eye with Kiri after raising her head, putting her other hand on hers at the girl’s more disheveled and messy self, heart dropping to her stomach at the fatigue varnishing an extra layer of moisture in her daughter’s drooping eyes.
“Oh Kiri,” Neytiri mumbled, caressing her cheek and brushing the tangled hair away from her face.
“Why don’t you go get some rest, mom, hm?”
“Even if I somehow agreed to that, I could never agree to leaving my daughter alone in this.”
“I’m fine.” Stopping to take a breath, she sighed, collecting the towel and starting to fold it. “Well, not really fine, but don't worry about me. We’re all miserable here. And that’s natural.” Fiddling with the corners of the cloth, she leaned in a bit and lowered her voice, light reflecting from the yellow of her irises making it look like they shone from within. “I… I know she’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. Eywa has bestowed us a gift she has never given to anyone before and it’s for a reason. I feel that everything will be set right.” She shook her head up and down, determined. “Dad will do it. I know he will.”
Neytiri trusted Kiri with her intuition and understanding when it came to the inscrutable intentions of Eywa, she was closer to the Great Mother than any Tsahik was — so close that she would drift away too much from her family. And deep down, Neytiri was heartsick by this invisible line that separated her from her daughter, any parent in her place would be unsettled like this.
She was also hog-tied to close the distance growing between them because of the human boy Spider and how she would find camaraderie in him in their ‘orphan’ status as she called it. Kiri was already faraway in her obscure existence and unwittingly separated herself as if she didn’t see herself as a real part of the family some days, and Neytiri hated that the ‘kinship’ she’d formed with Spider was planting these ideas into her head when she was her and Jake’s daughter, no more, no less. To overwrite those feelings, she tried so hard to reach Kiri, but was unsettled by the feeling of being hated sometimes, again, more or less for her stance in placing Spider at the outskirts of their family.
But oftentimes Kiri would express her affection through small, otherwise unnoticeable actions, just like this one, a caring touch and reassurance that could melt an ice cube — and Neytiri basked in the babiest of steps between them. And maybe this was how Jake had it with you, too, she had never thought about it like this before.
Taking in Neytiri’s solemn silence, Kiri grumbled, suddenly agitated about something. “I just… I just wish I had isirka resin and xhikul seeds for this paste and cover her wound with it. Grandmother’s extract isn’t enough to stimulate the bone marrow and ugh—” The girl groaned with the obvious guilt at groaning in the first place, as well. “I’m sorry, mom, I don’t know what—”
“It’s alright, Kiri,” Neytiri said, weariness blending with tenderness, knowing you’d agree too. You would have probably told her to not waste her energy and wait around when there wasn’t anything left to do anyway. “Maybe it’s you who needs some rest. You’ve worked hard. Harder than any of us. You do need rest, too.”
Kiri was quick to refuse. “I’m trying something new, I can’t go anywhere.”
“I’m sure one of your brothers—”
Her earpiece buzzed alive. “Neytiri, do you read me?”
The unexpected timing of it caught her off guard, her hand flying up to the device, drums of alarm going off in her head by the croaky, despondent note to his voice. The impact of their previous argument evaporated from existence just by hearing his distress. “Jake?” She focused on you, not observing any difference, and frowned in worry, her pulse picking up pace as Kiri also locked her attention to her the moment she heard her father was on the line. “What happened?”
“I have here one of Quaritch’s dreamwalkers—whatever they are.” Neytiri’s mouth opened and closed at the reveal, forehead creasing. “Alive. Somehow survived to get to the Tree of Souls.”
Her hand instinctively descended to touch your cool and clammy arm closest to her. “Tree of Souls…? But you were—”
“Yeah. Yeah, he… I couldn’t. I couldn’t…”
She stared at your face, all thoughts draining from her mind. “What are you saying, Jake?”
Silence.
“Jake,” Neytiri implored, her voice snuffed out towards the end. She tried again. “Jake, I don’t understand. What does this mean..?”
“Son of a bitch pulled me out before I could… before I could finish talking to her.” Kiri reached for her when she let out an incoherent, disbelieving voice, getting more panicked as Neytiri clawed at her tightening chest with his next words. “I failed, Neytiri. I couldn’t… She…”
Neytiri was physically helpless to respond, and Kiri couldn’t hold back from inquiring seeing the state she was in. “Mom? Mom! What’s wrong?”
“This man, if it wasn’t for this man, I had it.” Jake kept talking at an increasing speed the longer Neytiri didn’t say anything. “I had her right in my arms, making future plans, smiling, everything was perfect, and then he—” His breath quivered. “He fucking—” And he stopped the sentence abruptly to get some semblance of control back because Eywa knew Neytiri was losing it ever so slowly. “I need you here with me right now, please. Please, I…”
Neytiri refused to acknowledge what Jake couldn’t say out loud. You were still breathing, she felt your chest rise and fall even if the pattern was weak. You had life left in you. Jake saying he failed made no sense to her, she didn’t believe it.
“Neytiri, I need to question this… this filth, need to learn all I can about what’s going on, but I can’t do it on my own. I’ll kill him. In a heartbeat. I want to squeeze the life out of him with my hands right this moment and I— I can’t… We have to know how they could have gotten this far, what they’re planning—and now right to the Tree of Souls too, and…” The rambling that got chaotic and disconnected faded off eventually, as if he’d lost his voice. “Shit.”
And throughout all that, Neytiri had gone from confused, in denial, at the threshold of grief but not nearly in there anchored by your pulse, and lusting for blood within minutes. Kiri was taken aback by the anger radiating from her. “Bring him here!”
“I can’t. He could have a tracker on him—they could have put it in his body. I can’t risk that.”
Neytiri stood up with only one thing in her mind, and it didn’t match Jake’s. “Where are you?”
“You gotta let me pass, buddy, come on! You wanna take my head off or something? Why are you being like this!”
Hands up and quick on his feet, Lo’ak was trying to negotiate.
With an ikran of all things. Not even his.
Yours.
Mom storming out like a wronged, vengeful spirit had been the perfect chance for him to do a quick supply run sneak off, but your overgrown big bird with the exact same attitude as you was getting in his way and blocking Lo’ak off by snapping its jaw at his head and opening its sunset fire tinged wings every time he attempted to cross over to his own ikran. They were basically at a standstill and he had no idea why.
Lo’ak just wanted to help. Help you.
“And where do you think you’re going?”
Shit.
Neteyam. Making his way to him with such speed that got his braids swinging and of course he’d sniffed Lo’ak out like a nantang. Followed the odd silence, probably. Eywa, he should have thought this out better.
“Skxawng, do you not remember what dad said?”
“I do,” Lo’ak hummed and hawed, and that was the problem. He’d never felt this guilty about disobeying dad’s orders before, it was making him squirm. “But look, Kiri said she needed isirka resin and xhikul seeds or whatever to treat her, I’m going—”
Neteyam’s jaw had flexed when he said whatever, but there was no visible agitation after he gave a sharp breath through his nose. “So let’s call mother or—”
“They’re busy with some sky person dad caught—”
“I know. The same ones who did this to our sister. I know, Lo’ak.” Neteyam aggressively gestured to the exit of the cave system, shaking his arm while speaking. “What do you think will happen if you go off on your own and land yourself in bigger trouble than she did? Huh?”
Lo’ak threw resentful looks at your ikran. “I can’t stay put like this. I have to do something.”
“This again? There is nothing we can do.” He hadn’t said that in his normal drilling of dad’s orders — Neteyam had the same pain of acceptance that were Lo’ak’s bruises etched onto his face.
And that made Lo’ak want to throw up all over the place. He’d experienced countless sicknesses his siblings had fallen to over the years, none of those were as fatal as this and he didn’t know what the fuck to do. What was he supposed to do when his sister was dying? What did one do when a family member was in this situation anyway? Nothing seemed right to him.
And something was finally, finally within his power — and Lo’ak would of course rise up to the challenge without hesitation. He wasn’t just going to sit down and let that possibility of your salvation slip by. “But there is. Kiri said—”
“Lo’ak if you leave right now and somehow get caught dad will never trust you again. He was the most open he’s ever been, don’t betray him like that.”
He was getting annoyed that Neteyam was ignoring the whole point, though it wasn’t as if Lo’ak didn’t know. He was fully aware, and that’s why this was supposed to be a secret. Dad couldn’t be hurt by what he didn’t know now, could he? Not only were you getting Kiri’s remedy, which he was sure as his name was Lo’ak that would end up most effective, but he also wasn’t breaking his promise to dad when the tiniest thread of trust in his son was knotted by the man just recently.
Neteyam grabbed him by the top of his head in a brotherly manner but his hold was of steel, the boy tried to grumpily push him off but he didn’t budge, staring right into his soul. “Use what’s in this for once and just tell dad or mother, they’re down in the forest already anyway.” When he let go, Lo’ak stumbled back, rubbing the sting off, and the semi-playful older brother was back. “And one of them will actually know what to look for.”
His immediate response was refusal. “I know what I’m looking for—”
“What does isirka look like?”
The sounds your ikran was making was eerily close to laughter and Lo’ak felt heat rush up to the tips of his ears. “It’s a tree.”
Neteyam didn’t have brow hair like Lo’ak did, but the way he raised the lines was always more expressive than how he did it. “Xhikul, then?”
“Flower, skxawng.”
“Wrong.” Lo’ak’s tail started beating the air at the condescending tone. “Kiri is talking about the fruit. Xhika is its flower.”
He rolled his eyes, turning away. “Whatever—”
“Is it whatever?” Neteyam grabbed Lo’ak by the shoulder and spun him around so rough that he got dizzy. “Are you calling my sister’s life whatever?”
Lo’ak was going to explode from how wrong this was going and how insistent Neteyam was to twist his words. “That’s not what I meant bro!”
“You are so careless.” Neteyam’s tail had shot up ramrod straight, the little bush of hair at the end of it all puffed up, ears perking in all directions. He wasn’t necessarily yelling but was tense all over, something he did whenever they were playing back in the day and he was about to pounce after staying still enough to implant a false seed of safety. “You don’t even think about what can happen if you were to bring a completely different ingredient! You don’t think!”
“Sorry that I’m trying to help! What are you doing?”
“Keeping us safe. Keeping you safe.” He pressed his lips together on a thin line, but couldn’t hold back whatever was bubbling inside. “I’m not losing another sibling, Lo’ak!”
Only a small gasp escaped Lo’ak when he opened his mouth in retaliation. He couldn’t have found his voice even if he found something to say to that rawness in return, anyway.
The gut-churning guilt doubled.
“Hey… I—”
“Go,” Neteyam whispered, tilting his head together with the lone word. “Since you’re dying to help, help Kiri. She’s exhausted. I don’t think grandmother will refuse.”
“What about you?” And there he goes again. Wrong words. Neteyam was looking more closed-off than before. “I’m not accusing or anything—”
“I can’t go in there.”
“What?”
“I can’t,” Neteyam took a deep breath and loudly let it go, tail deflating, the arch of it depressing as hell for some reason. “I can’t look at her.”
Neteyam just gave a forlorn smile in return to Lo’ak’s heavily concerned looks demanding he continue but not knowing how to word it, his back looked weirdly lonely as he was tending to your significantly calmer ikran to join back the horde.
Buried in negative thoughts all the way back and ignoring the pitiful looks from the rest of the clan, he met Kiri outside of the healing tent talking to Spider, and he could see Tuk’s back covering the view to you in his peripheral.
They were whispering about something and it was obvious even from a distance where they were nothing but stick figures. At least try to look less suspicious, Lo’ak thought.
The only part he caught from the conversation was Spider saying, “Just describe them to me,” — Kiri was really leaning in towards him.
“What’s going on?”
The two looked like they were caught in the middle of scheming, and it clicked almost immediately.
If Lo’ak had thought of going off on his own, so had they.
“You aren’t going anywhere, bro,” he said, draping his arm across the human boy’s shoulders. “Neteyam’s literally patrolling.”
“You have to be kidding me,” Spider groaned, visibly disappointed. It warmed Lo’ak’s heart to see he was totally down for sneaking off the camp for you. “You said your dad told him to rest.”
“Yeah, he did. Except Neteyam never rests. He has a dancing glow worm up his ass.”
The conversation couldn’t continue because Kiri did a double take at something.
“Tuk!” Kiri took a few steps aside, squinting as if she didn’t think she was seeing it right. Then her expression burst into panic, her hands flying forward as she ran to the tent, Spider and Lo’ak could only stare, baffled. “Tuk, oh Eywa, what are you doing!—”
“I’m giving her water, she’s thirsty.”
“What?”
He actually rushed to the entrance of the tent, nearly falling headfirst in, having stumbled on some rock. Your mouth was actually open. And Tuk was really trying to get you to drink from the bowl she was holding against your mouth.
You choked at one point, still unconscious, but it was a sign of life. Lo’ak didn’t know if the shocked screech came from him or Kiri.
taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis @alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul
@eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily@n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92
@thotd-f1 @httpjiikook @nipoxe @fussel9913 @gloryekaterina @nxptury @thesheelfsworld @heyyitsmaiaa @anyasullyyy @rey26 @in-luvais @em-100 @n7cje @kpopslur @holysaladapricothero @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @maviee @grxcisxhy-wp @me-marilm @n39ro-chann
#dad!jake x daughter!reader#dad!jake sully x daughter!reader#dad!jake sully x reader#jake sully x reader#jake sully x daughter!reader#sully family x reader#mom!neytiri x reader#neteyam x sister!reader#neytiri x daughter!reader#lo'ak x sister!reader#kiri x sister!reader
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Slight mentions of alcohol, cursing, mentions of cheating.
“Can I come in?”
He opened the door wider, a silent invitation to come in. Muttering a soft “thank you” as you ventured deeper into his living room, bringing up the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away a few lingering tears with a sniffle as you heard tone light click on the door closing, before Miguel clears his throat.
“You um… you okay?”
You don’t know what came over you when he asked those simple words, not being able to hold yourself back as all the emotions came flooding back at full speed. Barely able to completely get your sob out from your lips before you felt Miguel’s warm hand gently grab your wrist and pull you into a comforting embrace, one that made your heart jump to your throat for the first time in what felt like forever. Sinking your head into his shoulder, the white fabric of his shirt sleeve slowly becoming soaked with your tears, his muscular arms coming around your shoulders as one of his hands starts to stroke your hair.
“Hey… hey… what’s wrong?” His tone was so gentle, so soft, like the time your daughter scraped her knee and began to cry when you were both trying to teach Gabriella how to ride a bike without her training wheels.
You took in a sharp, yet shaky breath, your senses began to be invaded with the smell of Miguel’s cologne and the slight aftermath of his last few beers. It was oddly intoxicating, but you quickly pushed the thoughts aside as you let out the breath before speaking.
“Henry… he-I caught him-“ You couldn’t bring yourself to say it out loud , the memory of you stumbling in on him on top of another woman still freshly burned into your memory.
Miguel didn’t have to hear the rest to know what that bastard did.
“I’ll kill him.” He hissed under his breath, his shoulders tensing as he went to go towards his front door to hunt that son of a bitch down and give him a lesson on what happens when he messes with his girl. Instantly stopping in his tracks when you melt into his touch, his angry quickly melting away.
“No, no fuck him. Just… can I stay here tonight? Please.” God he never imagined the day you’d ask that question again.
“Of course, anything for my baby mami.” He mumbled, his hand running up and down your bicep as he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.
—
Part 5<
Part 6< [NSFW Mdni]
Not proofread.
Word count: 400
Taglist: @famouscattle @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanmee @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz @migueloharastruelove @dahehow @sinners-98-world @othersideoftheparadise @toyfortoji @yeshajane @yvesbi @hanjisgf @deljojeisbackagain @safixiovi @emmalandry @maxinemus3 @lauraolar14 @aaaaslaaaan @kenz-ee @esmedelacroix @whattheshock @migueloharasoulmate @syler-griffin @comeonatmebruh @xwonderlandresidentx @m4dyy @mcmiracles @the-pan-liquid @lilbrababe99 @jxstanemo @badbitchhour @freehentai @sillysillygoofygoose @nj452896 @jadeloverxd @faretheeoscar @miguelsfavwife @ce3stvu @scorpihoooe @blossomofbismuths @tomalymme @nxxav3rs3 @ilovespiderverseeee @ghost-lantern @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiiira @lavenderslemonade @rinnako @reirain
#miguel o hara fanfic#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara au#spiderman 2099 x reader#astv miguel#astv spiderman 2099#miguel spiderverse#spiderman 2099 fanfic#bd!miguel#baby daddy!miguel#miguel fanfic#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel ohara spiderman#spiderman 2099 spiderverse#miguel spiderman#spiderman 2099#miguel ohara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel ohara#miguel ohara drabble#miguel ohara blurb#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o hara x reader#Miguel ohara blurbs#miguel o’hara blurbs#miguel o’hara drabble#miguel ohara imagine#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel o’hara blurb
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Fever
Dean Winchester x female reader
Warnings: DIRTY SMUT!!!!! dirty talk, oral (Fem r) Supernatural things, sex pollen, swearing
I got carried away
Summary: After getting hit with some kind of powder from the witch hunt, you and Dean have to deal with the affects.
The hunt was brutal. It was supposed to be one witch who were making people somehow die from unnatural reasons. It was a lot more complex and more difficult to track her down.
By the time that we found something, she pressed a button on the wall before disappearing. The only thing left was a deep red smoke that filled every sense you and Dean owned. You both coughed, wheezing from the inhalition of the foriegn to your lungs.
"You alright?" Dean asked, looking for you in the smoke.
Everything was red and you could barely see.
"I'm fine."
----
The drive was uncomfortable. It was too hot, too cold. It was like your body couldn't decide which it was. Dean was the same way. He was panting and sweating. The tension between the two of you were so thick.
"Dean, it's too hot."
"I know but we are almost to the hotel."
You felt a rush of arousal flood your panties at his voice. For some reason, his voice was deeper. More raspy, less controlled.
See, the thing with you and Dean was simple. You both found each other extremely attractive but neither of you wanted to admit it. But whatever the smoke was, was clouding up your mind with lust.
----
Throwing yourself in the shower, you quickly take a very long time. You needed to calm down. You were so turned on that you could barely touch your body without moaning at the sensitivity. You were still burning with desire when you got out of the shower, only to see that you forgot your clothes in the room.
You wrapped the small towel around yourself before moving to the door. When you cracked it open, Dean could be seen cleaning his guns. You watched from the steamy room and you admired his beauty. His arms flexed as he looked down at the gun currently in his hands. Oh god those hands. You wondered what they would feel like touching your--
"Hey, you good?" Dean called out.
You looked at him, gripping onto the towel as he moves to place the gun down. You let out a whimper when his fingers rubbed the barrel.
"Do you need something?"
"Yeah, I forgot my clothes. Can you bring them here?" You asked shyly.
He grabbed your clothes from the bed. When he brushed your fingertips as he handed them to you, he looked like he was in pain. His pupils dilated and looked like he wanted to devour you right there.
"Here you go, sweetheart."
"Dean, there is something wrong. I don't know why but I need to fuck someone," You said without any second thought. You blinked in surprise, so did Dean.
"Son of a bitch, Bobby had ran into something like this years ago. He called it "Sex Pollen" and the only cure is to fuck it out of your system."
"What happens if you don't?"
"Then you die from pain and fever."
----
And that is how you found yourself dropping the towel, slammed against the wall beside the bathroom. Dean's hands were gripping at your body as if it was his life line. He nipped at your throat as you grabbed at his hair. He groaned against you before pulling your leg over his hip, allowing himself closer to your warmth. You threw your head back against the wall as he mouthed at your chest.
Everything was too much and not enough at the same time. You needed him so badly. Your core was getting more soaked with every brush of his tongue against your collarbones.
"Dean," You moan out as he bites your breast.
"Fuck, I love you saying that."
He picked you up before moving you to a table. After throwing everything to the floor, he slams you down, and gets on his knees. Your breathing was getting caught in your throat as you watched him spread your thighs, before licking a bold strip up your pussy. Your hand shoots to his hair. You were a panting, moaning mess as he ate you like a starved man. He slipped his tongue inside of you before replacing it with his thick digts.
"Shit, sweetheart, you are soaked. Did I do this to you?"
"Yes, Dean. Only you."
"Fuck, you're squeezing me and I only got one in."
"Dean!"
"I know, sweetheart, I know."
He pumps his finger more before he adds another. The stretch felt heavenly as you fell back on the table. He had to place his hand over your hips to keep you from moving. He drank up everything that your sweet cunt had to offer. He wanted it to never stop leaking and now that he had a taste, he never wanted to let go of his forbidden sweet.
White hot pleasure blinded you as you orgasmed. All of your muscles tensed as you felt like you were floating. You had became boneless as Dean stood over you, pulling his pants down as he kisses your neck. He pulled himself out of his confindments and he was BIG. You gulped at the thought of his dick being in your throat but it was quickly forgotten when he pressed the tip to your warmth.
He looks at you, even though he was in pain, he still wanted permission. You nodded but he shook his head.
"Words, darling."
"Dean please fuck me plea-" you were cut off as he thrusted in deep.
You felt him in your throat, you were so full. You felt like you had died for a second before you felt the ridges of his cock move against your tight walls.
"Fuck, you're so tight," Dean hissed as he pushed in.
"Baby, I have to go faster." He said as he pulled you closer to the edge of the table before he rammed into you.
Everything felt so good. You felt another climax coming but you didn't want this to end. Dean could tell you were getting close so he picked you up off the table, not stopping his thusts, and layed you on the bed. He moved against you as the two of you touched each other's body for the first time. His hand moved to your clit and started rubbing little circles on it.
"Oh fuck, Dean.''
"Say it again," He pants against you.
You chant his name as though it is the only word you knew. As of right now, it was the only one you could think of. Your orgasm crashes on you but when you thought it was over, you were drowning in pleasure again. Dean continued to move against you, kissing your lips and neck. He wanted to remember everything that he could about your body. As if this was the last time he would be able to do so.
Dean was thrusting to his end point but before he could pull out, you pressed on the bottom of his back with your heels so he was locked with you.
"Wha-What are you doing? I gotta pull out."
"Please cum in me, Dean." You begged. He looked at you with a moan and spilled inside of you.
The two of you laid there, kissing and touching each other. Your hands roamed his back while his cock and body was ready to move again. He pulled out slowly but not without a hiss. You went to get up but he told you to stay put so he can get a bath running. He went to the bathroom to do so and came back to pick you up. The side effects from the sex pollen had gone away completely and the soreness started to set in. But you loved it.
"Come on, sweetheart." He helped you into the tub and climbed in behind you.
The two of you just laid against each other in the warm water, in complete silence. Your friendship was over now and you didn't have a clue as to what to do. Dean was the first to break the silence.
"I love you, darling."
You blinked. Did you hear him right?
"What?"
"I said I love you. I have loved you for a long time now," He confessed. His arms wrapped around you.
"I love you too, Dean." You smile against his shoulder.
"Good cause I was terrified to say that," He laughed, slightly shaking the water.
"So was I but I am happy I did."
He pulled you closer to give you a kiss before letting the two of you relax in the bubbles and warm water.
#dean winchester#supernatural#supernatural x reader#supernatural smut#supernatural x reader smut#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x female reader#dean x reader#dean winchester smut#sex pollen#dean winchester x reader smut#x reader smut#female reader
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No Soul to Sell (dark!joel miller x reader) (18+) (oneshot)
pairing: dark!ex-boyfriend’s dad!joel miller x fem!reader
summary: divorced joel is fucking his way through his newly acquired bachelor status, when he remembers you—the (recent) ex-girlfriend of his son—are now an option for him.
CAUTION: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. NONCON WARNING.
Warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT] Joel POV, misogynist!joel, slut!joel, general evil menace!joel, dubcon that devolves into explicit noncon mid-act, age gap (unspecified, but joel is old enough to be reader’s father), mentions of infidelity (joel is a lying cheater, reader has been cheated on previously—not by joel), little/no prep, coerced unprotected piv, noncon creampie, lying/manipulation, sexist and derogatory/degrading language
word count: ~2.8K | ao3
a/n: here’s my contribution to @chloeangelic’s divorced!slut!joel challenge. It was supposed to be 1.5k or less, but daddy chloe gave me special permission to go over. she also convinced me to write a fucked up alternate ending to this already fucked up fic, and I’ll provide the warnings for that before the alt ending, below the initial fic.
Masterlist | Kofi
A little post-fic drabble for those interested :)
Joel was acutely aware of his perpetual need to keep his dick wet. Hell, it’s the primary reason his wife left him in the first place.
Whenever the old bitch went frigid, he was forced to dip his wick elsewhere. Preferably somewhere young and pretty. If you put a gun to his head, he would admit that the papers weren’t a shock. He wasn’t exactly the most diligent at covering his tracks, and his wife wasn’t that stupid. So she had them drawn up the day she discovered he had been stepping out.
He shrugged it off, said some less-than-polite words, and—after some nauseating mediation proceedings—signed the fuckers. Packed his shit and went on his way to his recently secured apartment.
It wasn’t until after about a week of being by himself that he came to terms with how shitty being alone really was. Having to actually put in work to get sex again was a chore. When he was married, if he’d wanted it badly enough, his wife would usually give it up one way or another. But now he was severely lacking in a live-in cock warmer, and he needed it. He needed a warm hole to fuck, or he felt like he was going to shrivel up and turn to dust. After a few days without one, he would start getting jittery, and no amount of coming in a tube sock would satiate his carnal, irrepressible need for pussy. Any pussy.
And now, three months into his bachelor lifestyle, he’s already worked his way through most of his ex-wife’s (less loyal) friends, and all available female acquaintances that he could reasonably plow into. He’s run dry to the point where he’s started fucking the better pussies a second time. Since the divorce, Joel has learned that he really doesn’t like repeats anymore. He likes the thrill of sinking into a new hole, the challenge of what makes them tick. As soon as he cracks the code, the mystery is gone.
One evening, he’s lazily scrolling through the contacts on his phone, his dick once again fueling his decisions, when he comes across you.
Of course. It’s so obvious, he’s frustrated he hasn’t thought of you before. He knew you’d always had a thing for him. He had for you as well. The moment the two of you met, there was an energy between you. Purely sexual. He saw it in your eyes, he felt it in his dick. You had wanted him. And he had wanted to give it to you. But both of you were well aware that the other was off-limits, especially with your respective partners at each other’s sides. One of those partners being his own son.
A son he never truly connected with. A mama’s boy through and through. Sensitive and soft like her, but selfish and surly like him.
And ultimately, to Joel, a disappointment.
But now. Now that his wife is out of the picture. Now that Preston is out of your picture…
Joel: Hey you. Would you mind if I stopped by tonight? I think we’re overdue for a talk.
Not even an hour later, Joel is knocking at your door.
You open it, and you’re nothing short of a fuckable vision, clad in your black cotton leggings and your tank top, hands glistening and damp from what he parses is water from the dishes you’re in the middle of doing.
“Sorry, just finishing up,” You pardon yourself, bending at the waist like a fucking siren beckoning him as you pull up the door on your dishwasher to latch it shut and start the cycle.
He can’t resist it. Not for another second. He can hear, feel your breath hitch as he presses dangerously close against your back, your stomach hitting the lip of the counter as his breath fans out over your neck.
“Joel…” You start to object as he slides his hands down your torso, landing on your hips and rolling his own into yours to show you just how quickly you’re getting him where he desperately craves to be. “What are you doing?”
“What we’ve both wanted to do since we first laid eyes on each other,” Joel replies huskily, ghosting his lips over your ear to nip at your earlobe.
You half-heartedly attempt to bring your shoulder to your ear to nudge him away, but he just gives a small chuckle. “Am I wrong about that?” He bites kisses down the expanse of your neck, flexing his fingers around your hips. “Have you not been fuckin’ me with those beautiful eyes since we met?”
“We can’t do this,” You puff out, your breath already shallow with your own desire.
Joel’s fingers squeeze heavily at your hips as his fully hard cock grinds between your asscheeks in those sinful leggings, resulting in your head lulling back on your shoulders with a moan.
“We’re both single,” Joel counters, “We can do whatever the fuck we want.”
And then Joel is spinning you around, crashing your lips together in a hungry, brutal kiss. His tongue doesn’t request entry, it just takes it, filling the expanse of your mouth for his own exploration and pleasure and tasting of his filthiest dreams. His hands rake up your tank top over your tits for his mouth to devour, your head falling back again as obscene noises spill out of it.
Joel hitches your leg at his hip and drags his cock up your cunt, pulling a whimper from you that has him feeling feral, crazed enough to want to rip right through your clothes.
“Wait, wait, wait,” You pant out, shoving some space between the two of you in a way that makes Joel want to show you exactly what he thinks of that little move at this current juncture. But he huffs a sigh, caging you in with his hands gripping the counter at your back, but leaving precious inches of atmosphere between you.
“I don’t wanna wait,” Joel growls out, grinding his teeth.
“Look, I just need to know something, okay?”
Joel struggles not to roll his eyes in impatience, forcing himself into some semblance of concern. “Alright. What do you need to know, darlin’?”
Your eyes flutter momentarily at the name, but you push through. “When Preston told me about you and your wife—”
“Ex,” He corrects with gusto.
“Right, sorry, ex-wife. Well, he made it sound like she left you…” You hesitate a moment before exhaling, “Because you cheated.”
And Joel isn’t daft, so he slides his hands around you and nuzzles at your nose with his own. “Darlin’, that’s the opposite of what happened. She cheated on me.”
It’s as easy as breathing.
He can feel the tension sapping from your body at the words, so he continues. “And maybe it makes me a bad man, but all I’ve had the strength to do lately is try to fuck her, and her unfaithfulness, out of my system.”
“I get that,” You reply softly, your fingers creeping up to lock into his flannel and your eyes meeting his with only slight trepidation.
Once he sees he has you reeled in, he goes for the kill. “And could you think of any tastier revenge for what he did to you? For takin’ after his mama like that? Steppin’ out on you?”
A rattled shame shimmers in your eyes as he abruptly brings your reality to light. “Joel—”
“I know. I know all about it. His mama told me before we split.”
Your eyes dip down, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.
“Hey,” Joel coaxes, tipping your chin back up to look at him. “Wouldn’t you like to get back at them? Cause I can’t think of a better way. You get to fuck the older, more mature version of him. The man who brought that cheating motherfucker into this world. And I get to slide into someone so much fuckin’ tighter and younger and cuter than her. It’s a win-win.”
“I don’t know…”
“Yes, you do,” Joel whispers, and determines that you have had quite enough conversation, silencing you with his mouth on yours again. This time you melt into him, clutching his flannel as hard as he hopes your pussy will be on his cock in a few blistering moments.
You’re face down on your mattress in record time, Joel wrenching off your leggings and underwear and shoving his own bottom half free of clothing before pulling your now bare hips into his throbbing cock.
“C-condoms in the nightstand,” You stutter out.
He groans. “Don’t make me, darlin’. Wanna feel you.”
“Joel,” You protest again, and he’s starting to really fucking hate how his name sounds on your tongue when you’re reprimanding him like that. It reminds him of his ex-wife, every fucking time he did something she didn’t like.
Joel, stop tracking mud on the hardwood.
Joel, stop shoving things in the closet.
Joel, stop trying to put it in my ass.
Just non-stop nagging, nagging, nagging.
Joel shakes his mind clear and refocuses on the delicious, plump ass raised in the air for him.
“Aren’t you on birth control, darlin’?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then that’s all we need. How about you just trust me and we’ll have some fun, huh?”
“Okay,” He hears you mutter into your arm. “Just pull out, please. I still don’t wanna risk—” Your words are cut off by an almost shrieking moan of your own making as Joel fucks into you without warning, your insides clenching around him like a fucking vice.
Joel’s own moan rings out loud, animal, as your slick insides open up around him, parting easily as he starts to fuck you with abandon. “So fuckin’ tight, darlin’. Squeezin’ this cock just right. So fuckin’ good.”
You mewl into the sheets, wrinkling them with your fingers as he ravages your insides with ferocity.
“Knew this pussy would be good to me. Open up so easy for this big cock. You openin’ up easy for me, darlin’?”
You whine, lost for speech as his fingers bruise at your hips, smooth down your spine under your shirt to keep you pressed into the bed for him.
The sound of your skin slapping together penetrates the room, and Joel is getting tired of only hearing his own voice. He likes when they talk him up, tell him how good he feels, how much better he is than their husbands or boyfriends. He prods at you between breaths, “C’mon, talk to me, sweetheart. Been fuckin’ a lot of bitches like you since my split, you really gonna let them show you up? You don’t wanna go down in my little black book as a boring piece of ass, do ya? Keep it interestin' for me.”
He thinks he hears you whine mutedly, “‘S good.”
But that’s it. Just more of Joel’s grunts, more skin-on-skin, more of your shitty bed frame squeaking.
Boring, boring, boring.
Joel feels his façade sloughing off of him in sheets as your pussy grips him, taking him all the way in and soaking him an amount that he thinks you should probably be embarrassed about, with how desperate you are for him and how little you’re showing it.
“Just a piece of fuckin’ meat for me, huh? Nothin’ to say. No brains, no nothin’. Just a fucked-out little cocksleeve whore.”
He hears you make a weird noise beneath him and then your voice finally rising and skipping with the tempo of his harsh thrusts, “Joel…I’m not sure I like this.”
He knew this was coming. He just laughs it off, redoubling his imprints on your hips. “Oh, you don’t like this, huh? What don’t you like?”
“I-I don’t think I—”
“No, lemme just stop you there, sweetheart,” Joel growls out, halting his thrusts when he’s pressed balls deep inside you, holding you flush against his hips. “Lemme stop you, ‘cause I already know you don’t think. You’re a fuckin’ woman.”
You squeak below him as he picks his pace right back up, punishing your cervix for the sins of your protests as he blabbers on, “You were created to be a vessel for cock. Holes to fuck. Everything else is secondary. This is what you were made for. This doesn’t make you happy?”
“I’m really not having fun anymore, Joel! Please stop!” You plead, lashing out a hand to push against his hip, only to be slapped away. Joel’s face turns vengeful as he secures a hand around the back of your neck and forces your hips down onto the bed, pinning you with his full body weight and knocking the air out of your chest as his cock continues to split you open.
“Well, lucky for me, I’m having enough fun for the both of us right now. I’d say that’s all that matters.”
“I said stop!” You let out a violent sob, using all your strength to buck up against him to no avail.
Joel scoffs, bringing a hand around to shove four thick fingers into your incessant mouth, cutting off any comprehensible dissent from you. “Shut the fuck up, bitch. I’m gettin’ what I came for.”
Your muffled screams propel him forward into your trembling wet heat, grunting when your walls clutch him as if your life, your sanity depends on it. And shit if that doesn’t make him that much harder.
“Oh, fuck yeah, keep squeezin’ me like that baby, just like that. Don’t wanna hear a goddamn word about you not droolin’ for this cock, darlin’. Cause I can fuckin’ feel it. Droolin’ from your mouth and your pussy.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind he registers that you’re biting into his fingers as you scream over them, but for reasons foreign to him prior to this point, the pain spurs him on. Your saliva drips down his fingers, flowing in rivulets down his wrist as he hammers into your cunt.
“Not sure why you’re fightin’ me, when I gave you the chance to speak the fuck up. The one time I don’t want a bitch to shut her goddamn trap and you refused to do it. ‘F you’re not gonna make it worth my while, I’ll do it my damn self,” He grunts, holding open your jaw with his crooked fingers and railing into you with every ounce of resentment he has for his ex, for his son, and for every cunt who dared not impress him.
Joel feels his release building, his cock twitching inside you as he fucks your tightening hole, but he begs his body to hold out just a little longer. He pistons his hips in shallower thrusts as he levels with your ear, speaking over your whimpers, “I got a little confession, sweetheart. I lied. I did cheat on my wife.”
You whine, sob around his fingers, bending your knees against the mattress as you try and get leverage, but Joel’s smart enough to know you’re no match for his strength. The new position you’ve ended up in has Joel fucking even deeper into you, your keening growing more unhinged as Joel takes and takes and takes.
“Yeah, I cheated on that bitch over and over and over,” He spits, punctuating each repetition with a relentless slam of his hips into your ass. “And now that I’ve been where he’s been, felt what you got to offer, I can see why my son cheated on you, too.” He thrusts into you one last, brutal time, looping his free arm your neck to hold you in place as your sobs go quiet, more like resignation. Like defeat.
Joel’s forehead presses into the back of your neck as his cock pulses inside you, filling you with his load and claiming you for himself. He grunts out, “I know you wanted me to pull out, but…well, shit, I didn’t wanna. Want you to remember this.”
You finally go limp underneath him, and Joel hums a rumbling sound of approval. “That’s right. Just let it happen. All filled up with me now. What would Preston say? Spreadin’ your legs for his father, wringin’ his cock dry for his come?”
His fingers slip out of your mouth, drenched and a little pruned with purpling divots from your teeth adorning them. You just sniffle, your head collapsing into the sheets upon Joel relinquishing his hold.
“You stupid bitches never learn,” He mutters, groaning as his cock slips free of your clutches and lifting his weight off of you. He watches you take your first full-chested breath since he pinned you down, and it looks a little pathetic to him. When you don’t make an effort to move, Joel just goes about pulling himself back together. He leans against your bedroom door frame, studying the rise and fall of your body with each breath, his come leaking out of your spent cunt, the spots on your hip where he guarantees color will bloom where his fingers had been.
“All the same,” He mumbles. “All of ya. You’re nothin’ but fodder. Spread you out, devour you bit by bit.”
You lay silent, but he knows you hear him.
“And if there ain’t nothin’ left of ya when I’m finished,” He says, shrugging a little as he turns to leave, “far as I’m concerned, that’s when I know I done my job right.”
—-
Post-fic drabble
Alternate Ending
Further warnings/tags: noncon piss!kink (f receiving), disrespect/violation of someone in a presumed catatonic or dissociative state
word count: ~500
a/n: Chloeangelic is 100% to blame for this. I was fully content with the original ending, and then she said “but what about piss kink?? Maybe??” and I’m nothing if not a subby little bitch for her, so here it is.
----
“You stupid bitches never learn,” He mutters, groaning as his cock slips free of your clutches and lifting his weight off of you. He watches you take your first full-chested breath since he pinned you down, and it looks a little pathetic to him. When you don’t make an effort to move, Joel just goes about pulling himself back together.
But he stops. Takes in the sight of you. You look so goddamn helpless.
“Hey,” He prompts, shaking your foot in search of a response from you. You don’t budge. You don’t speak. The only signs of life are your tear-filled, periodically blinking eyes and the undulation of your breathing.
He thinks you may be in shock or something. Typical woman.
Something about that pisses him off. Deep inside the darkest recesses of his psyche, he craves a response from you. And you’re not giving it.
As he ponders how to earn that response, nature poses its own suggestion for him. He bats the idea around in his head. His gaze lingers on your bare ass, your exposed back, your overall catatonic state. He thinks about his wife—ex-wife—and every time she complained that he was too rough with her, that he asked too much of her, that it seemed like he didn’t care about her.
Well, fuck her, maybe he fucking didn’t.
Rage flares up inside him again, staring at your pitiful, fucked out body. And he decides to just release it.
Propped up on his knees between your spread thighs, flaccid cock in hand, he expels a cathartic sigh as he starts to relieve himself.
He expects you to bolt up the second the hot, wet pressure hits your back, but you are surprisingly unphased. He cocks his head to the side as his piss soaks the back of your rucked-up shirt, darkening the white and bleeding up the ribbed fabric.
He tilts the head of his cock down, his piss shooting against the globes of your ass and splashing back a little on impact. His eyes go dark as he aims for the crack of your ass, devouring the sight of it seeping down to the creampie he made of your sorry cunt. The substances intermingle on the wet spot directly below the opening of your pussy where you’d already made a mess on the sheets with your combined fluids. Something about adding one more to the mix has him transfixed. Less upset at your lack of reaction.
He’s actually disappointed when he feels his cock emptying, sputtering out the final remnants of his piss directly toward your creamy slit.
Satisfaction settles in his chest for the first time in a long while…maybe since before his divorce. Seeing a woman totally destroyed by his own hands, his own dick. A phantom shiver vibrates down his spine at the magnitude of this self-discovery, and he rolls his neck in a circle as he stuffs himself back into his pants.
He flicks off the lights, leaving you reeking in a puddle of his come and piss, and contemplating whether he should call his son to come find you.
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Hey, Sailor
Summary: It’s Fleet Week and Rooster would rather be anywhere else than on the flight deck of the USS Portland. That is, until a pretty thing in a sundress catches his eye and then suddenly his day is looking up.
Pairing: Bradley”Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader
Length: 5.8K
Warnings: Flirty Banter, Smut, and Bradley Bradshaw in Summer Whites (Minors DNI)
Note: When @roosterforme asks you to write her a Fleet Week fic, you write the Fleet Week fic! Here you go, Em! 💛
Normally, Rooster loved Fleet Week.
He loved the lively atmosphere and the parades. He loved the free drinks that were handed to him as soon as he entered a bar. And he especially loved all the attention he got from women when he wore his Summer Whites.
He usually came back to the ship looking less than pristine with lipstick on the collar of his uniform and hidden on other places on his body.
The USS Portland was teaming with excited families and camera-happy civilians taking in the sights from deck of the transport ship as they settled in for the five-hour journey to the San Diego. It was a Fleet Week tradition to welcome people aboard for an immersive experience, picking them up from a port further up North and then cruising along the coast before making their final docking for the week.
There were grills set up on the deck and the smell of flame kissed hamburgers and hotdogs mixed with the sea salt air. The sun was shining and the mood was light.
But this year, Rooster simply could not be bothered to give a fuck.
Especially not when he could have been home already instead of being stuck giving tours on a ship that he’d never even stepped foot on prior to three days ago when he and Hangman had been given orders to join in the procession on the vessel into the city after completing a short training deployment.
His superiors had okay-ed the terrible suggestion from some random Public Relations Specialist who clearly didn’t realize that he had better things to do with his time.
Early that morning, Bradley had stood on the dock with his arms crossed and wearing an impassive scowl as they had lifted his Super Hornet onto the flight deck like it was some kind of decorative hood ornament.
Sure, it was fun to watch the kids’ eyes get wide with excitement as they ooh-ed and ahh-ed over the features as he pointed them out, but he was getting hot and uncomfortable in his uniform in the mid-afternoon sun on the black tarmac.
He’d rather be in his service khakis like Seresin. Or better yet, naked at home in his own bed.
How Hangman had weaseled himself onto barbecue duty with a beer in his hand, Rooster would never know. The bastard probably played his Texan sir, I came out of the womb grilling shtick.
And every time he passed by the son of a bitch would give him a cocky salute with his tongs.
Jake was irritating on the best day, but today he was downright insufferable.
And he knew it had everything to do with the fact that Hangman’s girlfriend was laughing and lingering at his side, having surprised him by flying in with tickets for the coastal cruise.
At least someone was having a nice time, because it sure as shit wasn’t him.
Rooster was in the process of wrapping up his fourth tour of the day and handing out a couple of Dixie Cup hats to kids on the landing deck on the stern when he was stopped dead in his tracks and had to do a double take because he eyes were definitely playing tricks on him.
You were the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
And he swore for a minute time slowed down as you flashed the most gorgeous smile at some Junior Officer as you laughed along with whatever undoubtedly stupid joke he’d told you. All while the wind played with the ends of your hair.
You looked like such nice girl, such a good girl in your pretty light blue sundress.
The sun was bouncing off your shoulders and the little ruffle at the hem was taunting him with the way it danced around your thighs. It coasted over your curves like water, and fit you just snug enough that there wouldn’t be any Marilyn Monroe moments on deck, much to his disappointment. But the blow was cushioned by the stunning display of your smooth, shapely legs.
From the way your breasts bounced as you walked, he knew there was no way in hell you had a bra on under that little dress.
He’s never been able to resist a bad girl wrapped up like the girl-next-door.
From the second he saw you, he knew you were just his type.
And for the first time that day Bradley is grateful to be wearing the crisp, pressed Summer Whites.
He knew how good his biceps looked in the short sleeves of his uniform. And the way his pants clung to his legs and ass. He’d been spending a lot of his free time in the gym lately and it showed.
He never did mind playing An Officer and a Gentleman when the occasion presented itself, he was always happy to help fuel some fantasies.
The last time he had worn this uniform out during Fleet Week he ended up going home with an absolute smokeshow, so hopefully whatever appeal his uniform had for him back then can still work for him now.
Fleet Week was finally looking up for him.
However, what he didn’t like was the fact that the butterbar was still dominating your attention.
He wanted that smile turned on him. Wanted to see if the look in your bright eyes would be just as playful with your gaze pinned on him instead. He wanted to be the one making you laugh.
It’s not like he’s going to go over there and lick your face like a kid might try and claim dibs on a cupcake.
No, he was going to act in accordance to his rank and station as an Officer in the United States Navy.
Securing the white cap on his head from where it’s been tucked under his arm at every opportunity he’s had that day, he straightens up to his full height and purposefully struts over to you.
Bradley’s never been one to shy away from making an entrance.
He forcefully taps the younger officer’s shoulder, and glances down when the guy turns around to get a look at his name tag.
“Ensign Hubbard, you’re up for civilian tour duties. The next one is due to start at 1400,” he looks down at his watch for dramatic effect, “Which is in about 10 minutes on the starboard bow, so you best get going if you don’t want to be late, junior.”
He might feel a little guilty for springing this on the kid if it wasn’t entirely within his right to assign him the nonexistent task 684 feet in the opposite direction- a fact he learned in preparation for giving tours all day- and away from you.
Especially when he sees how flustered the guy gets as he rushes through his salute and the stammered apologies he gives you before he takes off in a brisk jog heading towards the other side of the ship.
He stands up a bit taller and makes himself a bit broader as your eyes sweep over him.
“Apologies for interrupting, ma’am. But I’d be happy to pick up where the Ensign has left off.”
There’s no missing the appraising interest in them as you take him in.
“The tours are starting at the front of the ship now, are they?” you muse out loud with a little tilt of your head. “What are all those folks over there are lining up for then, I wonder?”
You point deliberately to the group of people who are currently being greeted by the Lieutenant who was scheduled to relieve Rooster of tour duties for the next hour.
“Mm, that sure is a mystery. But Hubbard seems like a smart kid, I wouldn’t worry too much about him.” He shrugs with an unapologetic smirk on his face.
You lift a pointed eyebrow at him.
“So, you sent him away…” the almost-but-not-quite question trailing in the breeze.
“I sent him away,” he readily agrees with a nod. His eyes catch on a golden heart-shaped locket that you’re wearing around that dainty neck as it glints in the sunlight.
A smug smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you notice where his eyes have dropped too, “You’re not even going to deny it, Sailor?”
“Nope,” he says with a grin. “And actually, it’s Lieutenant Commander.”
“Ok, Lieutenant.”
“Commander.”
You hmm contemplatively like his rank was somehow up for debate, toying with that damn little heart-shaped locket in a way that was tempting his eyes to drift further down.
Rooster didn’t think it could be possible, but you’re even prettier up close. He knew you’d be stunning, but he couldn’t have prepared himself for the way your mischievous eyes sparkled magnetically. Or for the warmth spreading in his chest with the way you are broadly smiling at him now.
The top buttons of your dress are undone one more than would be strictly considered family friendly. But Bradley wasn’t bothered by that in the least.
Clearing his throat, he notes, “It’s a nice day for a sail.”
“Ensign Hubbard and I already covered that rather riveting subject earlier,” you tease while looking at him like well, what else have you got.
“Let me try again then.” If you wanted him to put in the work, he was more than up for the challenge. “What brings you for a casual five-hour cruise down the coast on one of the Pacific Fleet’s finest?”
“Now that’s not something we got to before he was telling me about what his ribbons meant in great detail,” you say with a laugh. “Would you believe me if I said I had a deep appreciation for $1.6 billion-dollar ships purchased with Uncle Sam’s defense budget?”
He gives you a half smile as he pretends to contemplate it for a moment, “You know, for some reason, I can’t say that I would.”
“Well, shucks,” you say with an over exaggerated shrug. “What about if I said I was roped into waking up at an ungodly hour to catch a flight up here because my best friend’s boyfriend is a Naval aviator and she wanted me to keep her company for the ‘casual five-hour cruise’, as you called it.”
“Now that I believe,” he drawled. “So, what’s his name?”
“Well, she calls him Jacob. He has one of those silly callsigns too, but I always forget it,” you scrunch your nose adorably as you search for it, “Something-man.”
“You mean Bagman?”
“Yeah, that sounds right.”
He smirks to himself.
“I take it you know him then?” You wait for his nod before looking up at him from under your lashes and asking him, “Does that mean you have a callsign too?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s Rooster.”
He doesn’t miss the way you glance down, and he definitely doesn’t hold back his pointed smirk waiting for your eyes to meet his again.
And when he gives you a cocky raise of his eyebrow, all you do is shrug.
You didn’t just look like his type, you are exactly his type.
“Rooster Bradshaw, huh?” you ask, reaching out to tap a finger on rectangular name tag on his chest. “I take it you have a first name, Lieutenant Commander?”
“Sure do,” he drawls, “But it only seems fair that I get yours in return.”
You grin knowingly at him. His cheek ticks up as you stick your hand out towards him and give him your name. It’s pretty and suits you perfectly.
Bradley says it out loud savoring the syllables in his mouth as he shakes your outstretched hand. And he gives you his in exchange.
He likes how much smaller your hand looks in his.
“Since it seems like your friend has ditched you, what do you say about getting a tour? Not to brag, but I’ve been doing it all day and I’ve got it down to a science now.”
“A private tour? Lucky me,” you purr. “Lead the way Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.”
You knew what you were doing, he’d give you that. And he was eating it up with a spoon ready to ask for second, third, and fourth helpings.
It’s less busy on the flight deck, as people are collecting around the grills waiting for their turn in the buffet lines for the late lunch.
He starts off by showing you his aircraft, giving you a brief rundown of its features.
You run a hand over the body of his fighter jet as he wraps up his now well-practiced spiel, “Do I even want to know how much taxpayer money contributed to this?”
“It depends. Does your appreciation for Uncle Sam’s defense collection extend to F/A-18s too? Or is that strictly reserved for amphibious transport vessels?”
“I’ll keep you posted after I get the full tour,” you say coyly.
“Well then, I shouldn’t keep a lady waiting then. Should I?”
“No, you certainly should not,” you agree.
He guides you past the table that’s set up with squadron memorabilia for people to buy and to the door with a hand on your low back. He’s close enough to smell your perfume now, he wants to bury his nose in your neck to inhale the scent directly from the source.
Rooster navigates the two of you like a pro through the narrow passageways as he takes you to the mess hall where coffee and pre-sliced cakes awaited tour guests. From there he takes you to the galley, the wheelhouse, the engine control room, the 24-bed hospital ward, and the massive hull used to transport heavy machinery.
You as him thoughtful questions every now and then. And he does his best to answer them. The two of you drift closer and closer, it doesn’t escape his notice the way you brush against him when you pass by to get a closer look at some of the things he shows you.
It’s easily his favorite tour of the day.
He loves the sound of your laugh as he tells you about some of the mischief that he and members of his squadron managed to avoid getting caught doing.
Along with some of the things that they did get caught doing.
Your teasing grin and witty banter and little sundress have done a number on him. And he isn’t ready to wrap this up by delivering you back on deck until the absolute last minute he has to resume his official tour duties again.
So when he circles back to the airwing, instead of turning left when he should, he leads you to the ladder that would take you down a level.
And he knows he shouldn’t, that he could get in some big trouble for showing you areas that weren’t explicitly on the official list of tour stops. But he’s always been more of the apologize later type.
Plus, he hasn’t been on this ship for very long, it’s not his fault if he manages to get conveniently turned around.
Bradley waits at the bottom of the steep ladder, actively looking anywhere else but up as you make your descent. When you’re at level with him, he helps you down the rest of the way with a steadying hand at your waist.
And when you turn around he doesn’t step back.
You reach up and run a playful finger along the brim of his cap, “So what’s a girl got to do to get a turn wearing the hat?”
His mind flashes with images of the last time he’d let a woman wear it.
“I’ll have you know this is technically Naval property, they don’t let just anyone have one. You usually have to earn it. But for you?” he pauses and gives you a heated once over, “I’ll let you try it on for free.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want any special treatment,” you say demurely. “But I think in this case, Uncle Sam would understand. I’m a model citizen after all.”
He takes the cap off of his head and gingerly sets it on yours, “You’re something else, that’s for sure.”
It slides forward down your head, “Oh, it’s heavier than it looks.” And Rooster wishes he had his phone on him to get a picture for himself. He likes the way you look wearing his things.
“Looks good on you,” he hums, letting his finger brush against that little locket around your neck.
You run a bold hand down his chest, “Where to next, Lieutenant?”
This time he doesn’t bother to correct you, he knows the game you’re playing now.
Instead he grips your hips and pushes you against the ladder and brings his mouth to yours.You make a noise of surprise before your arms are wrapping around his neck to pull him in closer.
The kiss starts out light and teasing. Your lips are so soft beneath his. He gently grazes his teeth against your lower lip, before gliding his tongue along the seam of your mouth seeking entrance. The sweep of your tongue against his is everything. The soft moans escaping you are making his pulse thrum in his veins.
It would be so easy for him to get lost in the feeling of your perfect body against his and of the way your fingers were playing with the short hairs on the nape of his neck. But he’s already pushing the limits bringing you down here, he can’t get distracted by kissing you out in the open where anyone could stumble upon the two of you.
The small whimper that you make when he pulls away makes him grin. As does the sight of his cap sitting crookedly on your head.
He thumbs at the lipstick that’s smudged at the side of your mouth, “C’mon, I’ve got one more place I want to show you.”
This time he takes your hand as he guides you down the gray passageway and through the door on the left.
The ready room on the USS Portland is much smaller than the one’s he is familiar with from the aircraft carriers he is usually on, but the set-up is mostly the same. There are a couple of projection screens adhered on the bulkheads and there are a few rows of leather seats with a swivel tray tables attached to the arm rests.
“Tell me what happens in here.” You ask him so genuinely, so sweetly and he already knows he wouldn’t stand a chance against you with the way you flutter those eyelashes at him.
So he tells you.
He likes that you want to know these details about his job, he likes that he gets to share this with you. Even if the clock is ticking down before he has to get back on deck.
Rooster watches the tantalizing way your sundress dances around your thighs as you walk around the space. You take a seat in one of the chairs in the front row and pull the desk top over you before turning to him with a beaming smile with his cap still perched on your head.
And he is hit with a wave of affection for you so intense that it makes it hard for him to breathe for a moment.
He’s grateful when you see something else that catches your eye, giving him a moment to get himself back under control. You’ve got him feeling like he should be on his knees for you.
In the spot where he is used to seeing a lectern, on this ship there is a glossy wooden table inlaid with the ship’s coat of arm that you standing over.
“Does every ship have their own unique crest? Do you know what the symbols are for?”
He really needs to figure out who put him on tour duty and send them an Edible Arrangement or something. And maybe one for whoever put together the ten-page packet of “fun facts” that he had rolled his eyes at when he had first seen it.
“Yes, ma’am, I sure do.” He comes up to stand behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder as his arms cage you in against the table. “Yes, all ships come with their own. It’s something that the prospective commanding officers are responsible for designing when new ships are about to be launched.”
You lean forward a bit, gazing your ass against him, “Dark blue and gold are traditional Navy colors, right?” He hums confirmation into your neck, as he runs his mustache along your soft skin. He feels more than hears your sharp inhale. “What does the gear on the anchor mean?”
He drops a kiss to your shoulder, “The cog is a symbol of manufacturing, a nod to the ship’s namesake and the city’s history for building ships in World War II.”
You grab his wrist and bring his arm across your body, he takes the hint and presses in closer into you. “And the trident?”
God, you feel so perfect in his arms. Your body is fitting against his like a dream.
“The black symbolizes determination,” he murmurs into the space where you neck and shoulder meet. “And the choice of the three prongs is because it’s the third ship to be given the name.”
You lean your head to the side, and he takes the opportunity to trail open-mouth kisses up your neck. Your nails bite into his forearm in response, as you rock back against his rapidly hardening cock. “And the rose?”
“Portland is the City of Roses.”
“Does it have any other meaning?” you ask soft and breathy.
“It represents strong ties, baby. It’s a symbol for the supportive partners and wives of those serving onboard,” he whispers low and sweet into your ear.
“Bradley,” you sigh as you turn your head towards him for a kiss. It’s desperate and wet. And he can almost taste the neediness of your moan on his tongue.
He’s never done anything like this while on duty on a ship before, and the thrill of it has his veins thrumming with adrenaline.
“You’ve had me hook, line and sinker since the damn second I saw you.” He grinds himself against your ass and you whimper at the contact. “What do you want from me? I’ll be so good to you, so good for you.”
“Want you to touch me,” you pant into his mouth, “Want you to fuck me, Rooster. It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about.”
“Fuck me.” He can feel his pulse thundering in his throat.
“I’m trying to,” you whine.
He barks a strained laugh before he spins you around, crowds you into the table. He doesn’t waste any time getting his lips back on yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You meet him stroke for stroke, just like you’ve been doing since the moment he laid eyes on you.
“This fucking dress,” he groans when he cups your breast through your fabric, as you fill his palm in just the right way. You arch your chest into his hand, and he was feeling entirely too self-satisfied in the confirmation that you weren’t wearing a bra. “Knew you weren’t a good girl.”
“So why are you treating me like one?” you taunt, breathlessly. Your greedy hands go straight to his cock, squeezing him through his pants.
Your hand feels so good on him.
“God, you’re so much fucking trouble,” he rasps, throwing his head back.You lean forward and your hot mouth works against the hollow of his throat.
He’s trying to undo some of the tiny buttons that line the front of your dress, but the teasing way your tongue is dipping out to trace the line of his tendon is making it hard for him to think.
“Are you gonna show me how you got that silly, little callsign of yours or not?” You give him one more squeeze, before bringing your hands up to the button of his white pants.
He knocks your hands out of the way before roughly grabbing your ass and hauls you firmly against him, “That feel little to you?”
Your gasp makes his fingertips dig further into your ass. The pretty color of your eyes has been completely eclipsed by your heavy, dark pupils. He can feel the way your thighs clench together.
“You want my attention? You’ve got it, baby,” he roughly rasps, “Go on then, show me how bad you can be.”
He dips his head down for a filthy, hungry kiss.
You push him back with a hand to his chest and a gleam in your eyes. You hold his heated gaze as you slowly undo his zipper and reach into his boxer briefs to pull him out. He moans when your thumb sweeps over the top of his cock.
Rooster thinks for a second that you’re going to drop to your knees for him, the mental image of you looking up at him with those doe-eyes is enough to make his jaw clench with desire. Especially with the way your sundress is gaping open at the top, giving him a clear view of the swells of your breasts.
Instead, you surprise him by bending over that glossy table and shimmying the skirt of your dress up over your luscious hips.
“Holy shit.”
You’re wearing the smallest, laciest little thong he’s ever fucking seen.
The band is a series of crisscrossed straps attached to some intricate and dainty floral lace. The juxtaposition of it against your skin is enough to make his ears ring. He’ll be dreaming of the way you’re enticingly arching your ass towards him for months.
And he’ll sure as shit never be able to be in a Ready Room again without getting a hard-on. The memory of you bent over the table before him will forever be ingrained in his brain.
“Is this bad enough for you, Lieutenant Commander?” You shoot him a grin over your shoulder as you wiggle your hips invitingly.
That sultry smile is swiped from your face the moment his large hand connects with your perfect ass. The sound echoes throughout the small room. He palms you once more before he yanks down your barely-there thong.
“Gonna fuck that attitude right out of you.”
Giving himself a few rough pumps, he lines himself up and slides into you with one steady thrust.
You both release an unrestrained groan of the sensation of him filling your warm, wet cunt. He barely gives you a moment to adjust to the size of him before he starts moving.
“’s big,” you sigh shakily.
“Tell me how much you like this cock.”
He slaps your pert ass again when you release a breathy whimper instead of answering him.
“Feels good, Rooster.” Your hands are struggling to find a way to support yourself as he fucks into you. “You feel so good.”
He pushes your dress higher up your body, his eyes are greedy for more of your skin. What he wouldn’t give to have you entirely naked and spread out before him. He wants to see all of you, he wants to hear you loud and needy for him.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he murmurs as he watches himself smoothly gliding in and out of you.
The little noises you are making are driving him crazy. He knows you’re trying to muffle your sweet moans and sighs and whines. The sound of your bodies coming together fills the room.
How his cap is still perched on your head he doesn’t know, it jostles every time your bodies come together.
“I need more,” you beg, “Need you to touch me.”
“Ask me nicely.” He punctuates the demand with a sharp snap of his hips.
“Please, Bradley. Please.”
He slides his hand around to the front of you, his fingers drawn to your clit like a magnet. You keen at the contact and tilt your hips into his hand. The sound is music to his ears, “That’s more like it.”
He doesn’t think there’s anything else better on the planet than being buried in your perfect pussy. You’re so wet for him. He already knows he’s going to need more of this, more of you.
“You’re taking me so well,” Bradley grunts as he speeds up his thrusts, “Looks like all you needed was a nice, thick cock. Just a sweet thing now, aren’t you?”
“Oh my god,” you gasp as you writhe against him. “F-fuck.”
He is so turned on by the way his hands span across you as he grips your waist and pulls you against him with every roll of his hips. His heart is racing in his chest.
The feeling of your body tensing around him is paradise. There is nothing he wants more than to be able to draw this out, but he is all too aware of how quickly time is slipping away from him.
He sets a rough and unrelenting pace. Redoubling his efforts on your clit, his indulgent strokes turn into tight, purposeful circles. And you cry out at the change of sensation on that sensitive part of you.
Your thighs start to tremble as his cock drags against that spot deep inside of you. The heat is pooling in his lower back as he fucks into you over and over again.
“Rooster, I’m gonna-”
“I know, baby. Let me feel it,” he murmurs hotly against your ear, his thumb rubbing back and forth across your clit. “Come on my cock like a good girl.”
The goosebumps erupt across your body like fireworks a moment before he feels you shiver and tremble beneath him as you come with a choked sob. The way you spasm and clench around him is dizzying.
Bradley is teetering on the edge, your cunt felt like heaven. Warm and wet and gripping him just right. He almost doesn’t want to give himself up to it as the pressure at the base of his spine intensified. He doesn’t want to stop fucking you.
You’re so perfect for him.
He loses himself to the feeling of your pussy milking him as you continue to pulse and writhe in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He grips your hips harder as he pounds into you before emptying himself inside of you with a shattered groan.
And for a moment all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears as he works to catch his breath. Rooster feels like his knees might buckle as the soft whimper you make when he pulls out of you.
He gently pulls that lacy little thong back up and helps to pull your dress back down over your hips and thighs before turning you around and lifting you onto the custom table.
He doesn’t know how he is going to make it through the rest of the journey knowing his come is collecting in your panties.
You’re flushed and looking thoroughly well-fucked as you smile up at him brightly.
Bradley threads his finger under the chain of your little gold heart-shaped locket that was etched with a rose in full bloom, and lightly tugs you in closer for a lingering kiss.
“I see you found your gift early, baby.”
Bradley would never forget the first time he saw you that night at the bar downtown last year during Fleet Week.
He had noticed you right away, it had been impossible not to. You and your girlfriends had been all done up in hot pink outfits for the Bachelorette party you were out celebrating.
Your friend had flounced right up to Jake taking the shot of whiskey out of his hand before swallowing it down then cheekily offering to buy him a replacement. Hangman had been wrapped around her finger ever since.
While your friends had all but shoved you in his direction while he had looked on entirely entertained as you had shot a scathing glare back at them. A sparkling tiara that read Bridesmaid sat crookedly on your head.
And then you had greeted him with a “Hey, Sailor” so weak that the couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh. There was a split second where he thought that he might have fucked it up before it could even start, but then you smiled back at him.
It was a charmingly self-deprecating smile and he was yours from the moment he saw it.
“Hiding it in your nightstand next to the batteries wasn’t the most original of spots, Rooster,” you affectionately tease him. “I didn’t mean to peek, but the remote stopped working. I hope you’re not mad. I love it.”
He could never be mad at you, especially not with his necklace around your neck. You were his, and he was so gone for you.
“It looks so pretty on you,” he tells you softly as his fingers brush over your collarbones.
“Oh my god, Rooster, I can’t we defiled Naval property.” You giggle as you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer to circle your arms around his neck.
“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve been defiling Naval property ever since you brought me home with you the night we met.”
You take that cap off of your head and set it back on his, and lean in to kiss him on the cheek, “Glad I’m getting a good return on my taxes then.”
He snorts a laugh, “God, I’ve missed you, baby. What are doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until the end of the week.”
“And miss the visual and culinary offerings of the USS Portland? I wouldn’t dream of it.” You joke as you run your hands along his arms where they’re pressed on the table on either side of you. “This uniform drives me just as crazy as it did last year.”
“Just the uniform?” he asks as he nudges his nose against yours.
“Maybe it has a little something to do with the man in the uniform,” you make a little hum as you check him out. “You’re so tan, Bradley, have you been using the sunscreen I sent with you-”
He crushes his mouth to yours, you were undoubtedly best thing that’s ever happened to him during Fleet Week.
“I’m glad I still do it for you,” he murmurs against your mouth before giving you another deep kiss.
The two of you work quickly to get yourselves looking presentable again. He’s only got a little time left before he is due to return to his tour duties back on deck.
He helps you back up the ladder and takes that left turn when he’s supposed to this time. All while your hand is tucked securely in his.
When you’re both back on the open flight deck he walks you over to the railing along the edge of the ship and wraps you up in his arms to watch the coastline crawl by with his last few moments of freedom.
“I really love Fleet Week,” you say with a contented sigh, as you lean your head back against his shoulder.
The golden rays from the sun are hitting you in a way that makes his chest warm.
“I do too, baby. It’s the best.”
Yeah, Rooster fucking loves Fleet Week.
Who doesn’t love a man in Summer Whites?! Consider this my formal petition for more Dress Whites in TG3!
Thank you for reading!
Hey, Sailor Moodboard
A peek inside the USS Portland One | Two
If you’re curious, here is some info on the crest I found! One | Two | Three
You can check out my other stories and series here!
Taglist:
@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes
#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#top gun maverick fanfiction#top gun fanfiction#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#rooster x reader#rooster x you#rooster x female reader
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Soldier Boy x Reader - Prompt Response - "Sleep. I'll keep you safe."
Summary: You're tired of running and you go to Soldier Boy for protection. He agrees to do it but not without a price.
Pairing: Soldier Boy x Female!Reader
A/N: Prompt from @thelonelyempath. The original character I wanted to respond to this prompt with before deciding to make it multi-character. This scenario immediately popped into my head reading the line and I just had to write it. Hope it's okay.
Thank you to my beta @rieleatiel for her services. You rock, girl!
Sequel
Warnings: violence/murder; implied assassination attempts; sexual propositioning; Soldier Boy being himself; starts out as a blackmail type dynamic that appears as if a little dubcon at first; language?
Word Count: 2528
Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.
Dividers by @firefly-graphics
Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187
SB Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl; @brightlilith
Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat
"Sleep. I'll keep you safe."
Beau version | Dean version | Jenny version | Tom version | Jason version | Anael version | SDV Alex version
You never thought in a million years that you would be seeking out one of the most dangerous Supes in the world for protection. Then again, you never would have thought that a multi-billion dollar corporation would be after you, intent on seeing you torn apart and scattered to the four winds. You didn’t exactly blow the whistle on them, but you didn’t exactly tow the company line either—something Stan Edgar was less than thrilled with and now the evil son of a bitch wanted you dead.
It was no secret that Edgar and Soldier Boy had a falling out of sorts after the truth about his being handed to the Russians had come to light. His old team may have made it happen, but it was Edgar pulling the strings all along. Surprisingly, the Supe who had been so focused on revenge hadn’t hunted Edgar down after this revelation, which made you wary about going this route. However, after narrowly escaping the latest death squad sent after you, you decided you had no choice but to take the gamble. There was nowhere you could run that Vought wouldn’t find you and you just hoped this would be more of an ‘enemy of my enemy’ situation rather than a ‘handing you right over to your enemy’ situation.
Once you had managed to track him down in Hong Kong while you were busy running yourself, he had shockingly agreed to a meet, and even more shockingly agreed to help you. Not without certain stipulations, of course.
“Let me in that sweet pussy of yours and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
You should have known, especially from the way he had been eyeing you up ever since he caught sight of you. Screwing your face up in disgust, you flat out refused. “Not happening.”
He shrugged and began to walk away. “Then you must not need my protection that badly.”
You scoffed in disbelief. “You’re seriously turning me down because I won’t fuck you? Whatever happened to the ‘Soldier Boy is America’s son’ bullshit? The OG superhero who fought Nazis and protected people?”
Soldier Boy stopped and slowly turned back towards you. “I’d be putting myself on the line to protect you. For that, I deserve one hell of a payment.”
You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms. “So now you’re blackmailing me into sleeping with you? Unbelievable.” You had heard he was more like America’s Asshole than its Son, but you still couldn’t believe your ears. You had even offered to help him take Vought down with what you knew, so long as he kept you safe. You knew he’d want that kind of information. Why else was he hopping from continent to continent in the last few months, trying to shake Vought just like you were? Instead, his dick was taking top priority. Typical.
“It’s the least you can do, doll.” He faced you fully again, shield hanging off of his arm as if it weighed nothing. “Like you said, I fought for this country, fought the Nazis, and now you’re asking me to play bodyguard while taking on Vought for you. I deserve something worth all that trouble.”
You ran through all other options in your mind. You still had a contact that could possibly put you in touch with someone that wouldn’t mind tapping into Vought’s offshore accounts that weren’t supposed to exist. You were already on Vought’s kill list; what would a few hundred thousand dollars of theirs matter? “I could pay you,” you offered.
“I’m not interested in money.” His eyes roved over you as he approached. “Besides,” he murmured as he came to a stop in front of you. You tensed as he reached up to tuck a strand of your hair that had gotten loose from under your ball cap behind your ear. ”I haven’t had a looker as pretty as you in a long time. Been locked away.” He gently gripped your chin in between his thumb and index finger, his eyes intent on your mouth before lifting to meet yours. A hint of a smirk started to appear on his handsome face when he most likely heard your heart beat starting to increase.
He released you and even took a step back from you, allowing you physical and metaphorical space. “Your call.”
You bit your lip as thoughts chaotically swirled inside your head. On one hand, you refused to be manipulated or pushed into sex with this asshole. No matter how physically attractive he might be, you weren’t willing to get on your back just so he would help you. But on the other hand, the cold hard truth was that you were tired — tired of running, tired of little-to-no sleep, tired of the paranoia that came with such a flight. Hell, at present, you hadn’t slept in almost two days and you were running on fumes; there wasn’t enough caffeine or energy pills in the world to get you through another day with no rest. Your reaction time was already dragging if your last narrow escape was anything to go by. If you continued this way, you’d be dead before the sun started to warm the sky; you were certain of it.
Soldier Boy stared you down. “What’s it gonna be?”
You didn’t answer. Instead, you glanced behind you at a small noise far off down the street. Thankfully, it was an old woman tossing something out onto the pavement, but you couldn’t deny it put you further on edge. You turned back to the Supe whose eyes stayed trained on you. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and readied your response. His lips began to quirk upwards into a smile; he knew what your answer was going to be before you even said the words.
Vought Tower had been completely demolished. Luckily, it had been mostly evacuated before the destruction occurred. A fight between Soldier Boy and the now-dead Homelander had caused most of the damage, but the C4 that had been carefully lined throughout the infrastructure is what ended up bringing it down.
Before it went boom, Soldier Boy had approached Stan Edgar, who refused to cower in a corner. The Supe respected that, but it didn’t change what he’d come here to do. He gripped Edgar by the throat and lifted him in the air, choking the older man and ignoring the fingers that desperately clawed at his hand.
“I thought we had an agreement,” Edgar rasped out.
Soldier Boy shrugged. “She made me a better one.” He then snapped the man’s neck and tossed his body aside like a rag doll.
“Oi! We ought to get out of here,” Butcher warned after seeing Stan Edgar lifeless on the floor. “Frenchie’s about to blow this place to fucking hell.”
He glared over at the Brit and picked up his shield. He still didn’t trust him, not after what he and his merry band of assholes had tried to do the last time they’d teamed up, but he’d made a deal with you and he was intent on keeping his end of it. The only conditions Butcher and Captain Lesbo had given this time around was: no civilian casualties and Ryan was off limits. He did his best with the first and he could give less than a fuck on the other. As far as he was concerned, the kid was Butcher’s problem as long as the kid didn’t come looking for some payback once he got older, which Butcher assured he wouldn’t. That, and there better not be Novichok gas waiting at the end of this mission for him. They’d reluctantly agreed, knowing they had no other way to kill Homelander and take down Vought all in one swoop.
“After you.” Soldier Boy gestured for Butcher to leave first. The man scowled but obliged, keeping a wary eye out as he moved. Smirking, Soldier boy followed. The Supe might have enjoyed the reaction—or even tried to settle the score from Butcher’s previous betrayal—if he didn’t have you to get back to. He needed to let you know that you no longer had Stan Edgar or Vought to worry about. He’d kept up his end of the bargain you’d both made — now, finally, you were free.
You woke up to the sound of someone moving through the darkness in your room. You grabbed the gun from beneath your pillow and bolted upright as much as you could, trying to get your eyes to adjust so you could get a good shot.
“Relax, it’s just me,” Soldier Boy assured you.
Recognizing his voice, you slowly lowered the gun and focused on his location. When your eyes finally adjusted, you realized he was near the foot of the bed, completely nude, his hair damp from a fresh shower. “Ben,” you breathed out in relief. “You scared me.”
Through the beams of moonlight shining into the room from the window, you saw him give you a smile and lay his shield down on the floor next to him. “Didn’t mean to.”
You slipped the safety back on the gun and stashed it into the drawer of your nightstand. You hated having it under your pillow at night; it was super uncomfortable and you only needed to do that when Soldier Boy — Ben, as he’d asked you to call him instead — wasn’t around. “Everything go okay?”
“Better than okay.” You glanced back to see a smirk adorning that handsome face of his, with an all-too familiar gleam in those green eyes. You watched as he slipped on some sweats and then made his way to the opposite side of the bed. You moved onto your side to face him, smiling as he climbed in next to you and sat up against the headboard, turning to grin down at you. Within seconds, he had his arms wrapped around you, pulling you up against him, and he was kissing you a proper hello. He only pulled back when you needed air and tenderly rubbed his nose along yours, nuzzling you. “How about you, doll? Everything go okay while I was gone?”
You nodded and snuggled into his bare chest, letting out a relieved sigh when you felt his warm hands stroking your back. “Everything’s fine,” you assured him, closing your eyes. You’d never admit it aloud, but you felt so much better when he was around. Not only did you feel protected but you just felt better in general. You’d have to be under the pain of torture to admit to him (or yourself) that you actually missed him when he had to leave.
He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and let his lips linger there, continuing to rub your back just the way you liked. “Edgar and Vought are gone,” he murmured. “The Caped Cunt, too. You’ve got nothing more to worry about.”
Your eyes snapped open and you lifted yourself up to meet his gaze, your brows furrowed. “What?” You asked in shock.
“You heard me.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb, his grin now a smug smile. “You’re safe, baby.”
Your eyes widened when the realization hit you. “That’s where you went?”
Your only answer was the lengthening of that smile.
“Jesus, Ben.” So many thoughts and emotions swirled within you all at once. You were free, truly free. You no longer had to worry about Vought death squads hunting you down, Homelander coming for you, or Stan Edgar sending after you any ragtag Supes he could scrounge up. You were free. Although, Ben hadn’t told you that he was about to go on his most dangerous mission yet. He might be America’s original superhero and he might be tough to kill, but that didn’t mean he was completely invincible. He’d admitted as much to you over the last few months. “What if… What if you didn’t—”
He kissed you, effectively cutting you off. “I did,” he hummed against your lips. “Told you I would.”
You nodded, gently tracing his facial features with your hands before gliding down to his shoulders, dipping down the warm expanse of his back and then slowly returning to his chest. As always, he remained patient whenever you did this ritual of checking him for any wounds or injuries, knowing you wouldn’t find any but needing to assure yourself just the same. Truthfully, this man had come to mean more to you than you’d ever imagined would be possible. Hell, there had been a time when it wouldn’t have been possible at all.
When you were done, you met his gaze head on. “Do I want to know?”
Ben remained silent, but his eyes said it all: no, you didn’t want to know. You and Ben may have planned for the downfall of Vought and the ends of Homelander and Stan Edgar, the very same bastards that had put a target on your back in the first place, but that didn’t mean you wanted to hear the gory details of their deaths. You were just grateful Ben had come back to you alive and unharmed.
You gave him a thin-lipped smile in understanding. “Thank you,” you whispered.
Ben studied you for a moment, then pulled you in and kissed you again, his fingers slipping through your hair until he grabbed the back of your neck and urged you to meet him more fully. Just as you were getting into it, he broke away and chuckled. “You’re real eager for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” You shot him a look and the smirk was suddenly back on his face. Without warning, he picked you up to rearrange you in the bed how he wanted you. “Too bad that you need to get some rest. We’re blowing the fuck out of here tomorrow and you’re gonna need to keep up.”
As if he would leave you behind if you couldn’t. “I thought you said Butcher would leave us alone after this.”
“I don’t trust that dicksucking Brit and I trust his bitch of a boss even less.”
You rolled your eyes, smirking when you felt him settle in behind you, knowing how much he enjoyed spooning you like this. “‘Kay,” you agreed. He had successfully protected you this far; you’d follow his lead on this one, too. You shut your eyes and snuggled into your pillow, content to feel his hands on your back caressing you once more.
You were just about asleep when you heard him murmur in your ear, “Sleep. I’ll keep you safe.” You smiled when you heard the words he’d been saying to you every night now for many months and your heart lightened when you felt his hands trail from your back to cup protectively over your rounding stomach, rubbing gently. ‘Safe’ is exactly how you felt right in this moment, and the little girl moving to meet her father’s embrace—like she always did when she sensed he was near—only cemented the knowledge that this was the first night neither you nor she were in danger any longer. It gave you a sense of peace you hadn’t known in a long time.
A/N: Please let me know what you think. 😊
#soldier boy x reader#soldier boy x female reader#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy#the boys fanfiction#the boys#prompt response#the boys fandom#soldier boy fanfiction#soldier boy x female!human!reader#female!human!reader#jensen ackles#jensen ackles character#thebiggerbear writing
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A Detective and a Gangster Walked Into a Bar
Jeong Jaehyun x Male Reader
cw: top jaehyun, pwp, unprotected sex, breeding, cheating, blowjob, deepthroat, degradation, rimjob, handjob, lightly choking, implied spit as lube, bit of feminization, dumbification.
—
yn is a known p.i. in the city In recent months he has been trying to catch a dangerous gang and to do so he has had to fall to the lowest of the low. this is how he is now on his way to a bar that is managed by jaehyun's wife, another well-known mafia member who coincidentally is a rival of the gang that yn is tracking. "i can't believe i had to ally myself with a son of a bitch like jaehyun," yn mutters, his breath being visible for the cold night.
jaehyun was signing some papers when the phone rang “hello?” he answers the phone, "oh, hello johnny... yeah yeah okay, send him directly to my office”.
“well. well. well… look who arrived, if not the most respected detective of all, yn ln huh?" he says with a cocky tone. “shut up and let's get straight to business. where's the folder you promised to give me?” detective yn said.
“woah you are as handsome as in the photos i have” the shameless gangster flirts. “i'm not here for your stupid jokes jaehyun, give me the. fucking. folder” anger being visible on the detective's face.
“take a seat and let's talk” jaehyun said, “why do you want the folder so much?”. “why do you care?” replied the other quickly. “i don't know maybe i feel jealous.. maybe i want you chasing me instead” jaehyun once again flirts. yn was not having it, he took a deep breath and counted to 10.
“i give you the folder with all the evidence to arrest that son of a bitch. but i'm going to need something in return" jaehyun gets up from the chair, walks around the desk and heads to the couch, sitting there in front of yn. “what do you want?” asked the other male. jaehyun manspreads “just an hour with you. i know you're not a whore but we can make a deal” he blurted out “i'm tired of doing favors for money i have a lot of that. i need other things… like the back of your throat” he smirks. “you shameless freak. fine, but no one should know about this" he sighed, that folder would help him a lot in getting a promotion at his job so whatever it takes, right?.
“come here” jaehyun does a motion with his hands, yn walked towards him. they kissed “so soft” murmured jaehyun “i wonder how would they feel wrapped around my cock” he said between kisses. yn knelt down and unzipped the other's pants, surprised by his big, throbbing cock. “seeing you in your knees is making me so horny”, yn's tongue went up and down jaehyun's shaft “what a fucking tease” moaned the gangster. yn then introduces the tip inside his mouth, making circles with his tongue on it and playing with the foreskin, he then leave wet kisses in the shaft sucking the balls, “so skilled damn you're a professional cocksucker. have you done this before?” grunted jaehyun, “that's none of your damn business” replied the detective.
yn slapped the other's cock on his tongue and put it all the way inside his mouth “fuck, the back of your throat feels so good” yn starts to deepthroat him holding on for a few seconds before taking out the huge cock smeared with thick strings of saliva that connecs his lips to the cock. “shit not even my wife can take it all” grunted jaehyun in excitement.
“that's it, keep sucking it like that?” he demanded “who's a good boy huh?”, yn didn't pay attention to his words, he just wanted to finish as soon as possible. “go faster.. i'm gonna cum inside your throat you better swallow it all slut” jaehyun pushed yn's head all the way down his cock locking his thighs around his neck, choking him while also cumming, forcing the other to swallow the thick gooey sperm of the gangster.
jaehyun let him go, yn fell to the floor coughing trying to catch some air. “come here we're not done yet” jaehyun grabbed and lifted yn by the hand and push him towards his desk “bend over” he said in a low demanding tone, “what the fuck are you talking about?” asked yn with a worried expression. “i said bend over” jaehyun's hand sneaking around yn's throat, squeezing it lightly “the hour is not over yet and i plan to enjoy every part of you until you come back later to me asking for another favor" his laugh sending shivers down your spine. jaehyun quickly remove yn's pants “spread your legs wide for me” yn did as he was told, feeling embarrassed as how submissive he was behaving around that bastard. “good boy” he hears while a slap lands on his left ass cheek.
jaehyun buried his tongue deep inside yn's hole while using his hand to stroke the other's cock “so hard for me. look how much you're leaking. are you that excited to be fucked by me?” he says in between the times that he stopped eating ass to breathe.
yn bites his arm to avoid moaning and give that bastard the satisfaction of knowing that he is feeling good “you're being a good little plaything for me mr. yn don't you wanna be the replacement of my wife?”, “shut up.. don't mention her you shameless perv… fucking other people when you're already married” spoke yn, the pleasure already numbing his mind. “you knew that… and that didn't stopped you to suck me off and you didn't do nothing to avoid what is happening right now so.. who's the perv here?”.
the gangster kept eating yn out “let's get you nice and wet for me i don't want to break you mr. detective… well at least not now” he murmured. yn stopped biting his arm he doesn't have the strength to keep doing it so his saliva started to came out of his mouth and he started to moan so loud “take a deep breath, i’m not going to contain myself from breaking your pussy you hear me?” yn just nodded, “hahaha. haven't even penetrated you yet and you're already that dumb?” the top joked.
and as he said he introduced all his cock at once and started to thrust right away drawing loud moans out of yn's mouth. the thrusts were so hard and rough that the desk started to move too. “look at you acting all though and feisty but being so dumb over my fat cock”. jaehyun have both his hands placed on yn's cheeks and some of his fingers inside his mouth using it as a way to bang him even more harder. nonsense words came out of the detective's mouth while from jaehyun's only “your mine” and “this pussy belongs to me” can be heard in between growls and heavy pants.
“i'm gonna pump all my cum inside you and cream this fucking tight pussy” blurted out jaehyun, with a couple of last thrusts he came, his throbbong cock pumping lots of loads inside the cockdrunk detective…
“here's the folder you earned it” jaehyun slide the folder towards yn who cleans the remains of his saliva that somehow managed to get smeared on the folder, “thanks i guess” an embarrassed yn was getting ready to leave when a hand stopped him, “no goodbye?” pouted jaehyun “i'd like to think we're gonna see each other again”... yn sighed with a disgusted grin “goodbye motherfucker” he answered. “nuh-uh” jaehyun tapped his lips letting him know that he wanted a kiss "i really can't believe you" he said and gave him a kiss. yn walks out of his office waving a goodbye to johnny, one of jaehyun's gang friends, not noticing the big tent formed in his pants.
when he arrived at home he quickly went to the bathroom taking out his dick which was still hard since he didn't came during the sex with jaehyun, just thinking about it made him very horny, his hand goes up and down his dick at a fast pace until finally white ropes of semen fall on the glass door of the shower. yn rests his forehead on his arm that is resting against the glass door, feeling a mix of embarrassment and anger for how that damn gangster jaehyun made him so submissive.
#jeong jaehyun x male reader#jaehyun x male reader#jeong jaehyun x male reader smut#jaehyun x male reader smut#nct 127 x male reader#nct x male reader#nct u x male reader#nct 127 smut#nct smut#nct 127#nct#nct u#male reader#kpop x male reader#kpop x male reader smut#smut#male reader smut#jeong yunoh x male reader
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confession
pairing: frank castle x fem!reader
summary: one confession changes everything.
warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns, bombs, blood & violence
word count: 5.5k
a/n: dun dun dunnnnnn. i hope y'all are hungry for drama, bc that's exactly what i whipped up. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!
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The second you burst through the door to Billy’s office, three sets of eyes were immediately on you. A look of pure annoyance settled on Frank’s face when he saw that you had directly disobeyed his order to wait in the truck, and he instantly began to stalk over towards you while grunting under his breath.
“I told you to wait in the-“
Something in your eyes must have caught his attention, because Frank abruptly stopped dead in his tracks and the irritation plastered on his face quickly shifted into a look you weren’t familiar with seeing on his hardened features.
Fear.
The movement of someone hastily rising from their chair caught your eye, and your lethal gaze completely bypassed Billy’s evident look of surprise to land on the culprit of your imminent wrath.
“Y/N, oh thank God. Where the hell have you been? Everyone has been looking for you for-“
Crack.
The moment your fist collided with Steven’s face, pain shot through your knuckles, and you tore your hand away as if you had touched a hot stove top, clutching your hand to your chest with a tight grimace on your face as you groaned.
“Oh, fuck!”
Billy’s dark brows rose significantly up his forehead, and his jaw went slack in astonishment. Frank’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he gawked at you in complete shock. Below you, Steven was on the ground, holding his nose and groaning in agony as deep streams of crimson slipped through his fingers.
“Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was that for?”
“It was you, you son of a bitch!”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about-”
“No I don’t, what the fuck is your problem? You on your period or something, that why you’re acting so fucking crazy?”
Steven’s words only fueled your rage and made you completely blindsided by your own anger. You weren’t thinking clearly, and when Billy came around his desk to stand beside you to assess the situation, you reached out to quickly pull his gun from his holster to aim it directly at Steven, whose expression of exasperation swiftly morphed into pure panic as he stared up at the barrel of the gun in your hand.
Billy immediately lept into action, grabbing onto your wrist tightly with his right hand to push the gun’s barrel away from Steven’s face while his left hand gripped onto your arm to lock it in place.
“Whoa whoa whoa, easy, darlin’.”
Behind you, Frank’s boots thudded heavily against the floor in a rush, and you soon felt the heat of his palm against your lower back through the thin material of your shirt. His other large hand reached over Billy’s to grip onto the barrel of the gun, keeping you from pointing it where you wanted to. Normally being so close to Frank that you could feel the tickle of his warm breath against your ear would’ve sent a shiver trickling down your spine, but the fury you felt seemed to singe every nerve ending that would’ve otherwise been affected by the juxtaposition of his gruff voice pleading gently with you.
“Easy, sweetheart. Gimme the gun. Whatever you think you wanna do right now, you don’t.”
“I want him to admit it.”
Steven swallowed thickly as you spit your venom at him through gritted teeth. Your eyes hadn’t left his once since they locked onto him when you stepped into Billy’s office. He wiped the blood lingering above his thin top lip with the sleeve of his shirt, staining the crisp white fabric a deep shade of maroon, and raised both of his hands slowly in a show of surrender as he stared up at you in trepidation.
“Y/N…whatever you think I did-“
“I don’t think. I know. You’re behind the Defenders of Freedom. All of this shit-all the people that have been hurt, all the people that have died-I almost died because of you.”
Steven let out a nervous chuckle as he shook his head slowly, moving to sit up on his knees as he stared up at you in bewilderment.
“What? That’s…that’s crazy. I was attacked by them. I don’t know why you would-“
Before he could utter another lie, you lifted your phone in your other hand that wasn’t still gripping onto the gun and started playing the recording you had, causing the entire room to go silent.
“Price! We got a fucking problem here! You said she was supposed to be alone, man. Well she’s not fucking alone! Someone’s fucking here and they’re-“
Cavella’s voice was cut off by the sound of bullets ricocheting around your kitchen. Steven’s eyes went wide with terror once you stopped the recording, a look of fear flashing through them that you had only ever seen Frank bring out in him. That look had power surging through your veins; to finally have that sense of strength over a man who had tried to make you feel small and brittle the entire duration of your relationship. It was intoxicating to be able to stare down into his petrified gaze.
Frank and Billy both immediately went rigid once the recording stopped. Billy’s look of concern for you all of a sudden morphed into an accusatory glare as he slowly turned his head to look down at Steven. One by one, he untangled his fingers from around your wrist and let go of your arm, turning to face Steven fully and stare him down as he towered over him.
“Frank, let go.”
“Bill-“
“Let her have it.”
“She don’t know how to use it-“
“She’s about to learn.”
The icy edge to Billy’s voice momentarily suspended your anger, and your lips parted slightly, noticing the look of pure disdain clenched in his jaw. Frank slowly came into view beside you, his large hand still clamped around the barrel of the gun, and when you turned to look at him, you could see the anger and concern clashing in his eyes. A muscle feathered in his jaw as he stared into your eyes, the internal battle displayed in the reflection of his almost like a play. You could see his hesitation to let go as much as you could see his own desire to follow Billy’s direction.
Glancing down at his own hand on the gun, his brows furrowed slightly, and he exchanged a knowing glance with Billy. Giving you one final look, he let out a deep exhale through his large nose, relinquishing his hold on the gun and removing his hand from your lower back to take a step backwards to give you some space. He immediately turned his body to face forward, staring down at Steven with a menacing glare while his index and middle finger twitched at his sides. Flickering your eyes over towards Billy, he gave you a subtle nod of encouragement before focusing his attention back on Steven.
Sucking in a sharp inhale, you fixated your gaze back on Steven and aimed the gun at him again with more confidence this time. It felt foreign holding a gun for the first time, and it was heavier than you expected, but the weight of the weapon in your hand was nothing compared to the weight of knowing all the hell you had endured the past several months were because of the man on his knees in front of you.
“I wanna hear you admit it.”
Steven’s eyes desperately flickered between the three of you. It was clear he wasn’t getting any sympathy from Frank or Billy, but he was still egotistical enough to think he had some kind of hold on you that he could use to his advantage. He shook his head quickly as he reached a shaky hand out towards you.
“Y/N, this is all a huge misunderstanding. Look, I asked those guys to look after you because-“
“I don’t want any bullshit, Steven. I want the truth. Cavella outed himself and Walker about being involved with the bombings. They weren’t there to look after me, they were there to kidnap me. Why? First you tried to have me killed, and then kidnapped-“
“Whoa whoa, no. That is not at all what was supposed to happen-“
“Then what was supposed to happen, Steven?”
“You weren’t supposed to antagonize them! The only reason you became a target is because you pissed them off! If you hadn’t been so fucking-“
Billy took a swift step forward and backhanded Steven across the face, glaring down at him with his lips set in a hard line.
“I would watch the way you talk to someone pointin’ a fuckin’ gun at you, dipshit.”
Steven clenched his jaw with a wince as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a frustrated exhale.
“Fuckin’ figures you’d be behind this shit. Bombs are a cowards weapon, and that’s exactly what you fuckin’ are.”
Frank’s voice was dangerously low and absolutely dripping with unfiltered hatred.
“I never hurt anyone. No one was ever supposed to get hurt at all. Look, Cavella and Walker had this group of vets that were already causing a lot of trouble. I…I thought I could use them to my advantage. I made them a deal that if they would do exactly as I said when I said, I’d fund them and keep them hidden and out of prison.”
“How exactly does a homegrown terrorist group advantage you?”
Steven sighed in frustration as he stared up at you, dropping his hands by his sides. The look of indignation in his eyes made your blood feel like molten lava in your veins. You had seen that look countless times when you were together. It was an expression he gave you when he felt like he was pointing out something obvious to you, or felt the need to mansplain something he thought you weren’t intelligent enough to figure out on your own.
“It would’ve helped me win the election.”
Complete disbelief was shot throughout your entire nervous system like a shockwave as you blanched at him with a curt, humorless laugh.
“You’re fucking joking. You murdered people-“
“No. I didn’t do that. Cavella and Walker were just supposed to blow up a few buildings and make a few stupid threats that I could use as a talking point for my campaign. They were gonna threaten me publically, and that was gonna gain me sympathy points in the polls. They already had a few guys lined up to take the fall for everything, and it was all gonna go down the week before the election. Can you imagine the votes I’d get for taking down a terrorist group? I’d win by a fucking landslide.”
“You are un-fucking-believable.”
“Look, I’ll admit, they got out of hand, alright? I told you, no one was supposed to get hurt at all. Politics is messy. Sometimes you do things you’re not proud of-“
“You’re really trying to excuse what you did-“
“I made a mistake, Y/N. I was trying to fix it-“
“How does kidnapping me fix it?”
Steven dragged his palms down his face in complete exasperation as he shook his head with a dry laugh.
“I knew a journalist was attacking them in the media but I didn’t realize it was you. I tried to tell Cavella and Walker you were off limits, but they didn’t wanna hear it. I mean, you taunted them relentlessly in the media. So, I agreed to let them kidnap you, but they weren’t actually gonna hurt you. I told them if they did, I’d pull their funding and expose them. They were just supposed to scare you into shutting up-”
Before you had a chance to react, Frank surged forward and struck his fist across Steven’s face hard, sending him flying two feet away from where he was sitting on his knees. When Frank moved to advance towards Steven to unleash more of his rage, Billy thrust his arm across Frank’s chest to halt his movements.
“Let her finish.”
Your eyes widened at the force Frank had knocked Steven back with. You watched as Steven curled up onto his side, his hand hovering over the fresh gash Frank’s knuckles had torn into his cheek, and you grimaced slightly at the pool of blood leaking past his lips. Steven let out a frustrated yell of pain while clutching at his face.
“Fuck! God…none of this even fucking matters anymore, alright? We have a bigger problem. Someone else knew about Cavella and Walker showing up to Y/N’s place and killed them, and I would think she would be more concerned that they’re still out there somewhere-”
“I did.”
Steven paused his furious rant to look up at Frank, his bloodied face twisted up in absolute confusion.
“What?”
Frank took a bold step forward, his eyes wild with restrained fury, and his top lip curled up slightly in a menacing snarl as he grit his words out at Steven.
“I killed ‘em.”
Steven blinked a few times in pure dumbfoundment. The puzzlement swimming in his eyes seemed to swirl like a hurricane into a pool of fear before settling into a tide of anger. As he glared between Frank and Billy, he pointed an accusatory bloody finger towards Frank.
“You…you ruined everything! I staged my car being blown up so Homeland would pull you away from her. If you had fucking done as you were told this would’ve all been over in two weeks! You weren’t supposed to be there-”
“Well that’s your fuckin’ stupid ass mistake thinkin’ I would ever leave her alone.”
Frank was beyond seething at this point, and the boom of his voice echoed in Billy’s office like a loud clap of thunder. But it wasn’t the volume of his words that made you shiver; it was the truth you heard in them.
Something about Steven’s argument piqued your curiosity, and you stared down at him with narrowed eyes.
“Wouldn’t exposing them also expose you?”
Steven scoffed at your question like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.
“No, I’m not stupid. I paid them in cash. We only exchanged information verbally, or through a burner phone, so there was nothing tying me to them. If they even tried, I would’ve buried them in charges.“
Your brows furrowed slightly at his implication, letting out a dry laugh as you watched him spit out blood.
“You mean you would’ve falsified files to get them locked away to hide your own dirty secrets?”
“I’ve been doing it my entire career. You really think I haven’t lost a case because I’m that good? Come on, no lawyer has that string of luck.”
Every dark revelation coming from Steven’s mouth only made your blood blaze even hotter. You momentarily dropped the gun by your side, taking a few steps over towards Steven with a look of absolute fury in your eyes while you smiled humorlessly.
“I can’t tell you how much I’m going to fucking enjoy watching you burn for this. Guess I’ll be writing about you after all.”
Steve let out a deep laugh, showcasing his bloodstained teeth in a cocky smile as he looked up at you.
“Princess, have you forgotten who I am? Who my father is? None of this is coming back to me. I told you, I have no direct ties to those overzealous psychos. That little recording you have only proves I sent two officers to watch out for my ex-girlfriend that was in danger. There’s no proof I knew they were involved. And even with your two little witnesses here, it’s all circumstantial evidence. No one is gonna believe you. You have nothing.”
“I’d say we have a confession.”
Steven rolled his eyes as he turned his head to look up at Billy, that nauseating smirk plastered over his lips.
“Not exactly how a confession works, pretty boy. This would all be hearsay, if it even made it to court.”
Billy arched one of his dark brows, his deep obsidian eyes narrowing slightly with a sparkle of mischief shining in them as his lips stretched into a wolfish grin. He suddenly held up his phone that displayed a recording that was still currently going.
“Is it?”
Steven’s smirk instantly disappeared realizing that Billy had been silently capturing the entire conversation. Showcasing a victorious smirk of his own, Billy pressed the button to stop the recording and slipped his phone into his pocket.
Frank’s face was still contorted in barely contained rage while glaring down at Steven as he barked a command.
“Names. Now.”
Steven swallowed thickly looking up at Frank, glancing between him and Billy in a newfound alarm.
“Okay…look…I’ll give you everything. If…if we can work something out-“
Frank stalked over towards Steven and grabbed him by his neck, lifting him up like a rag doll and shoving him against the wall so hard, it indented the wall in Billy’s office.
“We ain’t workin’ nothin’ out ‘cept whether you leave this goddamn office breathin’ or not, you got that? Now you can gimme those fuckin’ names, or I’ll tear ‘em outta you.”
Steven gripped onto Frank’s arms with both hands tightly, coughing from the restricted airflow, his ridiculous shoes thrashing against the wall from where Frank had him suspended above the floor.
“Cavella…was in…charge. Walker…was his…partner…I-addresses. I have… addresses…phone numbers…left pocket-“
Frank reached into Steven’s pocket with his free hand, pulling the burner phone out to toss in Billy’s direction. Billy quickly caught it and opened it, and after a few moments of searching through it, snapped it shut with a nod.
“Got it.”
Frank let go of Steven's neck, letting him collapse onto the floor in front of his boots, the corner of his mouth curling up into a snarl as Steven was sent into a coughing fit trying to catch his breath.
“Pull the trigger, darlin’.”
All three of your heads snapped in Billy’s direction, but he was only looking at you. Your lips parted slightly in surprise, glancing between Steven’s horrified eyes and Billy’s calm ones.
“What? We…we have his confession-“
Billy crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against his desk, nodding in your direction.
“We got a confession, but he could say it was coerced, and we got nothin’ else to pin to him. There’s a very real chance daddy could save the day on this one. You wanna risk that?”
A crease of confusion furrowed between your brows, and Billy’s features took on a more serious expression.
“We’ll back you. It would be cut and dry self defense.”
A look of astonishment blanketed your face when you realized what Billy was offering.
He wanted you to kill Steven.
Your eyes immediately went wide, and you looked over at Frank, hoping to see the same shock that was shining in your own eyes, but you didn’t find that.
Frank was staring at you in that same clash of hesitation and wrath, but you couldn’t detect a single ounce of disagreement with Billy’s offer. A sudden chill nipped at the back of your neck, and you slowly started to shake your head. Frank took a cautious step towards you, reaching out for your hand still holding onto the gun.
“You ain’t gotta do it. Lemme have it.”
“Frank-“
“Give it to me, and go wait in the truck.”
Your brows knit together in perplexity and disappointment as you stared between him and Billy, shaking your head adamantly.
“No.”
“Sweetheart-“
“No! He needs to pay for what he’s done. He and the others need to rot in prison. They need to spend the rest of their miserable lives in a tiny cell, knowing they’ll never get out. That’s what they deserve. They don’t just get to die and get it over with. They’re not getting away with it-“
“No one said they were, darlin’. Give Frank the gun.”
“He’s going to prison.”
Billy stared at you for a moment with an unreadable expression. Letting out an exhale through his nose, he nodded his head slightly in acceptance and straightened out his tie.
“If that’s what you want.”
Clutching onto the handle of the gun tightly, you glanced between Billy and Frank, noticing the polar difference in their expressions. Billy seemed calm and collected while Frank looked like he was seconds away from unleashing his wrath on Steven. Despite the power the two of them held, the decision was yours.
“Call Homeland.”
»»——— ———««
Watching Steven getting hauled away in handcuffs should’ve filled you with a sense of relief, but as you sat in the large conference room alone and watched Homeland agents scramble around the building through the floor to ceiling glass walls, there was a feeling of unease twisting your stomach into anxious knots.
Your thoughts were interrupted when a woman with shoulder length chocolate curls and espresso tinted eyes pushed open the door to the conference room. Her gaze was somewhat intense, and captivating, but there was a tight smile on her lips when she approached you and held out her hand.
“Y/N Y/L/N, I’m agent Dinah Madani with Homeland Security. I’ve been working on your case.”
Reaching your hand out to take hers, you noticed she had a firm grasp. When you made the connection with her words in your head, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.
“You’re Frank’s friend.”
Dinah lifted one of her perfectly arched dark brows in playful curiosity as a more candid and genuine soft smile graced her lips.
“Friend is a…strong word. But for all intents and purposes, sure.”
She gave you a knowing look, and you simply nodded in silent understanding as the tiny smile pulling at the edge of your mouth reached the center of your lips. Dinah took a seat beside you and leaned back in the chair slightly, letting out a deep exhale as her gaze flickered between the agents currently interviewing Billy and Frank before landing back on you with a softer expression.
“You know…what you did, it was brave. Incredibly reckless, to taunt two psychopaths with loaded guns and a hobby of blowing shit up, but brave. And extremely clever.”
That lingering sensation of dread crept up your spine again, causing you to shudder. The weight of the past few months, and the last seventy-two hours especially, bubbled in your stomach like bile threatening to erupt. There was a question that had been echoing in your head for the past forty-five minutes, one you were afraid to know the answer to.
“Is it enough?”
Dinah tilted her head to the side slightly as she stared over at you, her dark brows twinged with confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“The recordings…his confession…is it enough?”
Hearing the worriment that trembled in your voice, Dinah’s features softened as the blurriness of your apprehension finally became clear, and she understood exactly what you were asking. She reached a hand over to firmly place on top of yours and leaned in so that she was staring directly into your eyes while she spoke in a strong and confident tone.
“I will personally make sure this son of a bitch goes down, and goes down hard. I don’t care if his father is richer than God, Steven Price is going to pay for what he did. They all will. I promise.”
There was a quiet ferocity to Dinah, and you got the impression that she was a woman with zero tolerance for bullshit, but despite her intensity, she made you feel relaxed. It almost reminded you of your early interactions with Frank.
“Thank you.”
The blazing passion in her eyes cooled off the tiniest bit when you said that, and you got the feeling those were two words she didn’t hear often. Before Dinah could respond, the door to the conference room creaked open, and that fire was burning brightly in her eyes once again as she stared down the intruder. You thought she might have been glaring at Frank for some reason, but when you looked over your shoulder, you were surprised to see it was Billy.
He stood on the opposite side of the table with his hands in his pockets, looking at Dinah with a faint smirk on his lips that almost looked arrogant, and a rogue twinkle in his eyes.
“Madani.”
Dinah sat up straighter in her seat as she stared intently over at Billy, not even bothering to plaster a cordial smile on her lips.
“Russo.”
There was a tension lingering between the two of them like a dense and heavy fog, and your eyes darted between them in total curiosity. Billy cleared his throat and squared his shoulders as he gestured towards you with his chin.
“Mind if I have a word with her alone?”
Instead of answering him, Madani turned her attention towards you, raising one of her brows in silent questioning. After giving her a subtle nod, she looked over at Billy warily out of the corner of her eye and let out a heavy exhale through her nose, giving you a nod of her own and rising from her seat.
“I’ll be outside.”
As she made her way over towards the conference door to leave, her and Billy’s eyes were locked on one another in an almost strained staring contest. But while Billy’s eyes reflected amusement, Madani stared at Billy in a look that resembled…suspicion. Once it was just you and Billy in the room, you looked over at him in complete puzzlement with an arched brow.
“What did you do to piss off Homeland Security?”
Billy let out a dark chuckle as he rounded the long, deep mahogany conference table, unbuttoning his suit jacket to take a seat next to you.
“We uh…used to date.”
For some reason, that confession caught you off guard. It was hard to picture someone like Billy with someone like Madani. Granted, she was just as attractive as he was, but their personalities seemed so…different. Glancing down at your hands, you let out a dry and humorless short laugh.
“I guess you really fucked up.”
Billy’s sharp features contorted into a look of faux offense, but the grin on his lips gave away his true feelings.
“What makes you so sure it was my fault?”
Turning your head slightly to give him a pointed look, he let out a deep chuckle and nodded as he leaned back in the chair and glanced around the empty conference room.
“Fair enough.”
Staring down at your hand that you had punched Steven with, you noticed that your knuckles had begun to swell, and the skin was changing into the early shades of a bruise. So much adrenaline had been coursing through your body, you hadn’t felt any pain at all until now. You could barely tighten your fingers into a weak fist without feeling a sharp tenderness, and there was dried blood around the stitches in your palm from clutching the gun so tightly.
A gun that Billy had wanted you to pull the trigger on.
“I wasn’t going to shoot him.”
“I know. You couldn’t have even if you wanted to.”
Shifting your gaze to look over at Billy in total confusion, there was a small smile on his lips as he looked back at you. He slowly crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side while gazing softly at you.
“The safety was on.”
All of a sudden, everything clicked.
That’s why Frank let go of the gun.
He had seen that the safety was on and knew you couldn’t do any damage. A surprised scoff left your lips as you shook your head slowly while all these new pieces fit into the puzzle. But as you ran your fingers through your hair with your uninjured hand, there was one question that was still missing an answer. You turned your head to stare at Billy inquisitively.
“Then why did you say-”
Billy shook his head and leaned over in his seat closer towards you, resting his elbows on his thighs.
“I was just tryin’ to scare him. He spent months terrorizin’ you, I thought it was only fair we scare the shit outta him too. I’m sorry if I took it too far, darlin’. But, I knew you wouldn’t do it, even if the safety wasn’t on.”
The way he said that with such conviction struck something within you, and you sat up a little straighter as you furrowed your brows slightly.
“What makes you say that?”
Billy instantly picked up on the challenging tone lacing your question, and he let out a light chuckle while looking at you with one of his dark brows arched.
“Besides the fact you don’t know how to use a gun?”
He took a moment to let his teasing words linger in the space between you, letting out an amused snort at the way you pursed your lips and lifted your brows defiantly.
“Cause that ain’t you, darlin’. Besides, Frank wouldn’t let you do somethin’ like that. He woulda done it himself to keep your conscience clear.”
As if on cue, Frank pushed through the door of the conference room with an ice pack in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. He glanced between you and Billy, his dark brows slightly knit together before his gaze landed on you, and he gestured loosely with the ice pack.
“Thought you might need this for that right hook, Rocky.”
Billy threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh while you struggled to fight the grin that threatened to take over your lips as you glanced down at your slightly swollen hand. Billy stood up from the chair and buttoned his suit jacket, lightly squeezing your shoulder.
“That was impressive. Remind me to never piss you off.”
While Billy left the conference room to speak to some of the guys that worked for him, Frank took his previous spot in the chair next to you and set the ice pack and first aid kit on the table.
“Lemme see.”
Letting out a soft sigh, you slowly placed your hand into his larger one and winced as he gingerly brushed his thumb over your bruised knuckles.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“Are we lookin’ at the same thing?”
There was a faint teasing tone to his words, and as you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes, you realized it was because he had repeated your own back to you. You were suddenly brought back to the night at the bar when you had been in this exact same scenario with Frank, only now the roles were reversed. Now he was the one patching up your hand.
A smile bloomed across your lips like the first delicate bud in spring knowing that he remembered that. Frank always remembered the little things.
“Alright, fine. It’s bad.”
Frank turned your hand over carefully, swabbing at the dried blood around your stitches with an alcohol wipe which caused you to hiss from the sting, and elicited a quiet apology from him. To both of your surprise, you hadn’t ripped open your stitches. Frank applied some antibiotic cream to your stitches and gently placed the ice pack over your swollen knuckles, the icy chill instantly offering a little bit of relief to the throbbing under your angry and taut skin.
But it was the way that Frank tenderly held your wrist with his other free hand as he held the ice pack to your bruised knuckles that a heated shiver tumbling down your back.
“Be sore for a few days, but it ain’t broken.”
Frank lifted his head to look at you, his eyes faintly narrowed as he cocked his head to the side and studied you curiously.
“I thought you said you ain’t ever hit anyone before?”
A look of sheer puzzlement blanketed your own features while looking back at Frank, unsure of the implications behind his question.
“I haven’t.”
Frank’s thick brows lifted up his forehead a few centimeters in surprise as his deep brown eyes wandered over you, a soft chuckle leaving him as he shook his head slowly and looked back down at your hand.
“Coulda fooled me. Hell of a fuckin’ hit for your first try.”
His voice was dripping with pride, and that coupled with the tiny grin on his lips filled you with a giddiness that made the pain in your hand almost disappear.
But all at once, that giddiness disappeared when a chilling revelation washed over you like a bucket of unforgiving ice water.
The Defenders of Freedom had been caught. Steven was going to stand trial, and eventually be sent to prison.
And there wasn’t a reason for Frank to be your bodyguard anymore.
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#frank castle#frank castle x you#frank castle x y/n#frank castle x reader#frank castle x female reader#frank castle x fem!reader#frank castle x f!reader#frank castle fic#frank castle series#the bodyguard series#bodyguard!frank castle fic#bodyguard!frank castle series#bodyguard!frank castle x reader#the punisher#the punisher fic#the punisher series
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I'm a Winner
Pairing: GatorxReader
Summary: You've heard rumors about Gator's abilities in the bedroom and you're curious. You can overlook his bumbling idiocy for an earth shattering orgasm.
18+ Only
Your eyes started tracking him from the moment he walked in. Gator Tillman, cocky son of Roy Tillman who was known for being a jerk, an idiot, and the resident fuckboy. He moved with the swagger of a man who thought he ran the world. Which is exactly what he thought. He never missed a chance to tell people how he was the law.
He pulled that stupid vape from his pocket, hitting it hard as he laughed at something Jimmy was saying. Jimmy, another douchebag if there ever was one. You’d made the mistake of hooking up with him for him to be gone before you’d even woken up. No note. No call. But you’d seen him at the bar that night, Susan hanging all over him while he pretended that he had no idea who you were.
After fucking four of Stark County’s finest you had sworn off cops completely. But lately, you’d been thinking of bending that rule. Yeah, Gator Tillman ran his mouth, telling anyone who would listen how amazing he was in the sack. It was probably just that, all talk. But according to a couple of the girls, he was worth taking a ride.
He chugged a beer as the men around him all chanted, finishing it off with a neanderthal thumping of chest that led to a loud belch. You grimaced. Maybe this plan wasn’t the best one. Maybe those girls had been exaggerating. After all, Roy Tillman owned this county. No one wanted to get on his or his son’s bad side. They could just be blowing smoke up your ass so it didn’t get back to Gator that they were talking shit about him.
After Lacy Boggs had bragged about Gator fucking her in the back of his cop car after another one of Jimmy’s parties, you’d been intrigued. She’d claimed that he had worked her over so good that she couldn’t walk straight for a week. After Kelsey Stouts had renowned you with her story of giving him head to get out of a speeding ticket, saying she’d never been so turned on having a dick in her mouth, you’d been highly interested.
What man had a dick so special that a woman came just from sucking him off? You’d found yourself suddenly paying special attention to the deputy sheriff. Sipping your coffee in the diner while he picked up his order, noticing how well he filled out those camo pants he loved so much. He’d leaned back, resting his elbows on the counter, lazily waiting for his food, and you’d noticed it wasn’t just the back of the pants he’d filled out.
That was the moment you’d decided you needed to see for yourself. That was the moment you’d realized that Gator Tillman, while a piece of absolute shit, was a hell of a view from all angles. He wasn’t long term material but you weren’t looking for long term. You were simply looking for a good time with a man who might be able to show it to. Unlike the other worthless men in this town.
Gator turned, his eyes locking onto yours from where you sat, on a stool at the counter in the kitchen. One eyebrow lifted along with one side of his mouth, his hand running over that slicked back hair. You ran your tongue over your upper lip, knowing he wouldn’t be able to ignore the gesture. And sure enough, here he came, like a dog scenting a bitch in heat.
“I could feel your eyes on me,” he smirked, placing one hand on the counter next to you, invading your space to the point where you could smell the Axe body spray he’d clearly used far too much of. “Whatchu want, darling?”
“Sorry, officer. Is it a crime to look?” you challenged, tilting your head, biting back the urge to reach out and tug on the wild mass of chest hair that was escaping the top of his shirt.
“It’s only a crime if I say it’s a crime.” His head dropped, lips so close you could smell the fruity tang on his breath of watermelon from that damn vape he always had in his pocket. “See something you like?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve heard things…but I’m not sure if I should believe them or not.”
“You heard things? Well, I heard things too.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”
“I heard you got a thing for men in uniform,” he whispered. His hand fell on your knee and you allowed it, curious to see where this was going to go. After all, wasn’t this what you’d come here for tonight? “Let me guess. You been disappointed but you heard Gator can get your body exactly where it needs to be, didn’t you?”
His fingers slid under the edge of your skirt and you placed your hand over them, stopping him. Gator smirked, pulling hips lips between his teeth.
“Pretty full of yourself, aren’t you?” you teased.
“You could be full of me too, mama. You know you want to. Just say the word. Jimmy’s got a spare room upstairs. This Gator wouldn’t mind exploring your wet swamp.”
A snort you couldn’t stop escaped and before you knew it, you were in hysterics. Gator looked confused and then offended, his hand disappearing from your leg as he straightened up, turning his head to each side, trying to regain his tough facade. His eyes darted around the room, daring anyone to say anything about you laughing at him.
“I’m sorry…but do you really think that’s sexy? Referring to my vagina as a swamp?” you cackled. “Jesus, maybe those girls were overexaggerating. I thought you had game.”
“Oh, I got game honey,” he hissed angrily, his face suddenly in yours again, those hazel eyes dark as night. You swallowed hard, pulling back, laughter dying in your throat as you waited to see what he was going to do. Knowing the Tillman family, there was no threshold to what they were capable of when they were angry. “I got more game than Lebron James.”
“Okay…yeah. I’m sure you do. Must be a bad night for you or something.”
His hand came to your throat, his nose bumping yours, “You need a lesson in how to talk respectfully to authority. If you don’t have nothing to say, we might have to give that pretty little mouth something else to do.”
Heat flared between your thighs as he pushed against you, spreading you wide until you could feel pressed against you. Dampness was already spreading across your panties, your teeth biting down on your lower lip to keep you from whimpering in front of this entire party. Fuck. Why were you so turned on? You should be pushing this asshole off and telling him where to shove it. But the way he was looking at you, those eyes filled with promises of what he planned to do…you wanted it.
Opening your eyes wide, you gave him the most innocent, doe eyed look you could manage. “Uh-oh, deputy. Have I been a bad girl? I guess you better punish me then so I can learn to be better.”
You enjoyed the way Gator’s eyes flickered in surprise, his cock reacting to your words, rigid and hard. You fought the urge to rub yourself against him, to relieve some of the ache that was already throbbing. You fucking needed this.
“Then get that sweet little ass upstairs.” His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “Last door on the right. Get on the bed and get on all fours. Lift that little skirt up for me and wait until I get there. And no touching yourself honey. I’ll know.”
Then he was gone. You gasped, blinking, finding him back over with his cop buddies, another beer in his hand. His eyes flickered to you and up the stairs. Not even knowing who the hell you were right now, you rose on shaky legs, making your way up the steps.
No one stopped you. No one even seemed to be paying attention and if they were, they probably just assumed you were going to the bathroom. At the top of the landing, you made your way down the hallway, grabbing the doorknob to the last door on the right just like he’d said.
Were you seriously going to do this? Were you really going to let Gator fucking Tillman order you around? For a second you considered just walking back down the stairs and out the door to your car. Let him be pissed when he got up here and found the room empty. Who in the hell did that guy think he was? God?
But that thought evaporated as fast as it came. You weren’t leaving. You were too invested now. You wanted to know if he could put his money where his mouth was. You wanted to know if that dick was as magical as the rumors said it was. And fuck, you wanted him to dominate the shit out of you. You wanted him to punish you. You wanted him to give you what you’d always craved but never had, what most of the boys in this town weren’t capable of. You wanted an earth shattering orgasm. You wanted to be walking funny for a week. You just hoped you weren’t getting your expectations up to have them shattered in disappointment because this guy could be all talk.
That fucking pick-up line. You snorted again thinking about it as you crawled onto the mattress. What woman would want her pussy to be compared to a swamp? Gross. Pressing your face into the mattress, you lifted your ass high, grasping the hem of your skirt and flipping it up. But dumb didn’t mean he couldn’t fuck, right? Only time would tell.
“Well, well, well…now if that ain’t the prettiest sight I ever did see. A woman showing some respect to authority, following an officer’s commands.”
Your pussy clenched, anticipation building at the sound of the door shutting, the lock clicking into place. The sound of cotton slipping over skin caressed your ears as he pulled his shirt off, a flash of green fabric in the corner of your vision.
Each step toward the bed was a thud as his heavy combat boots hit the floor. You squirmed. Your desire building, your need pulsing through you like the rumbles of an earthquake. You’d never been so fucking turned on in your life and he hadn’t even touched you yet. God, he better live up to the hype.
“Mmm, now that’s a peach I’d like to sink my teeth in…”
He was right behind you now and you jumped when his hand came down upon your flesh with a loud smack. Gator treated the opposite cheek to the same treatment, eliciting a whimper from you. His hand wrapped around your thighs, yanking them further apart, spreading you wide.
“My, my…” You gasped when his nose slid over your panties from the front to the back. “Damn darling, you smell just as sweet as you look. You taste just as good too?”
“Why don’t you put that mouth to good use and find out?” you teased, wiggling your ass back and forth for him, your need for him use his fingers, his tongue, his cock, fucking anything on you raging like an inferno. The heat was spreading over your skin until you were sure you would incinerate from it, nothing left but a pile of ashes on this bed.
Another smack came at your words, this time to your pussy, the impact vibrating throughout your entire body. You cried out, rocking your hips backward, damn near begging this man to give you more.
“Now, I thought we’d done and cleared this up, darling? It’s your mouth that needs something to do. Clearly you haven’t learned your less about talking back to your superiors.”
“I don’t work for you,” you snapped, unable to keep yourself from antagonizing him, wanting to push him over the edge, to push him to give you exactly what you wanted.
“Oh, well, I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’m here the law of this land,” he snarled, grabbing a fistful of your hair, lifting you up off the bed. “Tonight you do work for me and you can start by getting on your knees.”
Leaning forward, you batted your eyelashes, smirking with a tilt of your head, “Make me, officer.”
His lips pouted to the side, his hand coming to the back of his pants. You could tell he was more excited than aggravated at your challenge. Most girls probably didn’t have the balls to talk back to him, too scared of that last name he carried around. When he revealed it again, a pair of handcuffs dangled from his fingers.
“Oh, we want to play like that? Alrighty then.” Roughly, he shoved you face first onto the bed. Pulling your arms behind you, you felt the cool metal snap around each wrist. “I can play like that.”
Not even waiting for your response, his fingers curled in your hair, tugging until you had no choice but to come off the bed, standing in front of him. Pulling again, he jerked your head so you were looking up at him. You gasped at the pain at your scalp and he used that opportunity to lick the inside of your mouth before pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking until it released with an audible pop.
“Now, I said on your knees.”
His hand dropped to the top of your head, pressing you down until you had no other option if you didn’t want to rupture a vertebrae. Gator stood, considering you, his head tilting one way and then the other. With a movement so fast you barely knew it had happened, his hands pulled at your shirt, ripping the buttons. Swiping at the fabric, nothing was left to conceal you from him besides scraps of black lace.
“That’s better. Wanna admire those tits while I watch that mouth apologize for talking back.” His zipper made a soft hiss before his pants dropped around his ankles. Gator slid one hand into his boxer briefs, pulling out his already hard cock, showing you that what you thought you saw was no exaggeration. This man was hung. “Now open up for me, mama.”
Eager to find out if this cock was everything you’d been told, you opened wide.
“Stick that tongue out for me. Oh…that’s a girl…”
He slapped the tip of his erection against your tongue a few times. You kept your mouth open as he slipped it inside, the tip running along each cheek. When his fist curled in your hair again, you worked to relax your throat, anticipating what was coming.
And Gator did not disappoint. He fucked your face, sending his cock straight back to kiss your tonsils. You gagged, your nose nuzzled against the coarse hair at the base of him. But he didn’t relent, doing it again, and a third time, his sack hitting your chin with each hard thrust into your mouth. His groans and grunts created a soundtrack of meal pleasure while his cock left no inch of your throat untouched until you felt like he would reach your lungs.
“Fuck, darling. That pretty little mouth is good for something other than being a smartass.” His hand eased in your hair, his other hand slipping along his length, pressing it against his stomach. “Gotta show the boys the same kind of love, now.”
You pressed your nose against the seam of his hip, dragging your tongue underneath. He hissed and you moaned, his sounds only furthering your desire. Your panties were absolutely soaked as you took first one and then the other of his testicles into your mouth, sucking and releasing with a loud pop.
“You are a dirty little slut, aren’t ya honey? You like sucking dick, don’t you?”
A moan was the only answer you gave him, your tongue now dragging over the side of his cock. Fuck, you wanted your hands free so you could touch him. Taking his length in your mouth again, you moved over him, his hips rocking forward to meet you.
“Look at me, honey. Yeah…fuck, you look so damn pretty with my cock in your mouth. Wrap your lips around it. Yeah, just like that…”
Tears streamed down your face as you took him as deeply as you could. You scraped your teeth gently over the sensitive skin and he jumped, growling before slamming to the back of your throat again in punishment. Just as his grunts were coming faster and you were sure he was close, he grabbed your hair, yanking you off him.
“Now to see if you taste as sweet as you smell.”
Heaving you over his shoulder, he tossed you to the bed, grabbing onto your hands and hooking the chain of the handcuffs over the bedpost, effectively keeping you restrained. Gator kicked off his pants and his boots before climbing on the bed. He roughly yanked off your panties and then pressed your knees, leaving you spread before him.
Lying on his stomach, he leaned in, inhaling deeply again, “Fuck, just like peaches. I’m telling ya. Now, you wanna see why all the girls talk about Gator, honey, because I’m gonna show ya.”
He didn’t just lick. He didn’t just suck. This man fucking feasted on you like you were a turkey dinner at Thanksgiving. You cried out, pulling at the handcuffs, your hips bucking up off the bed. Gator’s large hands landed on each of your thighs, pressing you down as he devoured.
“Fuck, Gator. Jesus…oh my god…that’s so good…so fucking good…” you whimpered, your hands opening and closing in desperate to grab onto his head and grind yourself against him. But you couldn’t. This man had all the control.
“Mmm…I told you, Gator knows his way around moist places, honey.”
Fuck. You hated that goddamn word. This man seriously had to come up with better descriptions for a woman’s pussy but not even that was enough to break you from the fucking ecstasy you were lost in as his tongue slid down, entering you. That glorious fucking nose, a nose that looked like it belonged on a Roman God continued to nuzzle deliciously over your clit as his tongue fucked you.
Your body was fucking humming. Gator was playing you like a violin and you were loving every goddamn note. When two thick fingers slid into you, pumping hard while his lips wrapped around your clit, you screamed his name, your thighs locking around his head. Your hips rocked up into him, your body desperately seeking sweet release.
“I’m gonna…oh shit…oh god…Gator…”
“That’s right. Come for me, mama. Come all over Gator’s face.”
The tension within you coiled so tightly, you thought you would snap and then snap you did. With a scream so loud you were sure the entire party had heard, your orgasm crashed over you, your back bowing off the bed.
“Jesus Christ…” you whimpered, collapsing.
“Mmm…” His lips pressed against your clit and you squeaked, jerking. “So fucking tasty.”
His chin glistened with your juices as he brought his two fingers to his mouth, slipping them inside, sucking the remains of your pleasure off. Your eyes fluttered closed, your body spent, completely wrecked after the most earth shattering orgasm of your goddamn life. The sound of foil tearing caught your attention and you opened your eyes to see Gator slipping a condom over his painfully hard cock.
“I ain’t done with you yet, mama.” Kneeling between your legs, he lifted one up, pressing it against his chest. “Gonna get nice and deep. I’m gonna hit places ain’t no other man ever hit.”
In one swift thrust, he entered you, stretching you, his cock filling you completely. Your eyes rolled back in your head, teeth clenched against the delicious burn. Gator did not wait for you to adjust to his size. He pounded into you, your skin slapping together harshly.
Pressing forward, he bent your leg toward you with the weight of his chest. The next thrust sent him in so deeply that you swore you could feel him in your stomach. You cursed, gasping his name.
“There it is…” he growled, rolling into you again and again, each time hitting a space that had you seeing fucking stars, planets, entire galaxies that you’d never explored but desperately wanted to.
“Jesus Gator…I’m gonna come again…I…so good…fuck…”
You wanted to grab his arms. You wanted to sink your fingers into that chest hair that was teasing you, tickling your nose. You wanted to rake your fingernails down his back. But you could do none of those things, the use of your hands taken from you.
A scream ripped from your throat as your second orgasm threatened to tear you apart. Gator didn’t cease his pace as your walls pulsed around him, pulling him deep.
“That’s it…fuck yeah…I’m a winner…” he grunted, hips slamming into you again. “I’m a winner, honey.” Sweat trickled down his face. “I’m a…” His mouth opened wide, his body shaking as he stilled above you, riding out his own release. “Winner,” he gasped. “I’m a fucking winner.”
Your eyes went wide watching him and you bit down on your lip, thinking it would be a very bad idea to laugh at him right now. Maybe he was an idiot but if he could give you orgasms like that, you’d be willing to overlook a few flaws.
“Those girls were right, weren’t they?” he demanded breathlessly. “Say it. Tell me they were right.”
“They were…they were right,” you breathed, struggling to catch your own breath. “You’re a winner, Gator.”
“Fucking right I am.”
#gator tillman x y/n#gator tillman fic#gator tillman smut#gator x reader#gator tillman#gator tillman x reader#smut#rough smut#obey me
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Smoke Eater - Part 19
Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader
Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.
That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.
🔥 Series Masterlist
AN: Deep breaths, my friends. We’re almost to the end. ❤️
Word Count: 5,800
Tags/Warnings: Violence, peril, blood and guns, character death…
Part 19: “Sacrifice”
“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted…but you didn’t answer.
“You there?” he asked. There was a pit forming in his stomach when he glanced up at John. His father met his gaze with furrowed brows that betrayed concern.
The line was silent for one more painful moment. Dean opened his mouth to call out to you again, but a smooth voice interrupted.
“Dean, Dean, Dean,” a man replied. “Forgetting something?”
Dean’s heart began to pound. His mouth parted, but for a moment, the words wouldn’t escape.
“Who is this?” he said. His voice was a hint unsteady.
“I think you know, son,” the man replied.
Dean’s wide eyes flicked up to John’s, and the other man sprang into action. He shot a look and a whispered order at Cas, who went running for some IP tracking equipment back in the police car.
Meanwhile, John guided Dean to sit down on the couch. Sam followed them on his brother’s right, while John sat on Dean’s left.
Dean put the phone on speaker between the three of them.
“You’re Daniel Savage, huh?” Dean said. He tried to inject some more control into his tone, like he wasn’t freaking the fuck out. “Man, do I feel special.”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Dean-o. I’m doing the same thing your dad’s doing. Hooking the bigger fish.”
Dean’s lips pursed. He glanced at his father, but his attention on the phone turned steely.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked. “Your lackey’s on lockdown. So’s your bastard son. If you want to help him, I’d suggest you turn your ass over to the cops.”
“Yes, Nick’s an idiot. But family, right?” said Daniel. He breathed out a sigh.
But then his voice was firm and calculating. It made Dean’s skin crawl.
“Cards on the table, son. Your daddy’s got something of mine. I’ve got something of yours.”
Dean’s face hardened, but John raised a placating hand; a warning to keep calm. Dean tried to take a breath.
His heart clenched at the mere thought of you being in the same room with that man. Having been taken and hauled to God knows where. He couldn’t imagine how scared you were. And if you were hurt…
Fuck. There was a roiling pit forming in his stomach, his head starting to pound in time with his heartbeat.
Already Cas was back with a laptop and program designed to track the caller’s phone. He connected a USB-like cord to Dean's phone and began fiddling with the settings, trying to get a read. Dean knew he had to keep this fucker talking.
“You have her with you?” he asked.
“Sure do. She’s a pretty little thing.”
Dean’s jaw clenched in a furious glare. “Don’t you fucking touch her, you son of a bitch.”
“Quid pro quo, Dean. What can you do for me?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, as desperation began to escape him. “There’s no way they’re letting Nick go before the trial. It’s out of my dad’s hands.”
“Your dad has no real evidence that my son is anything more than a successful businessman,” said Daniel. “If you really need someone to pin these unfortunate murders on, you had your man in custody…but, oh wait. You gave him immunity.”
Dean’s eyes were desperate when they met Sam’s worried ones, then their father’s. It didn’t matter that John and Cas did have evidence besides Alastair’s testimony. All Dean cared about was you.
He swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing. It’s what I want John to do.”
Dean took a moment to close his eyes, pull himself together. His hands squeezed his knees to brace himself. When he next opened his eyes, he let out a sharp breath.
“What do you want then? Aside from Nick somehow breaking loose,” he asked.
“I want your dad to back the fuck off, once and for all,” Daniel said. His voice was more edged, with both warning and a hint of frustration. “Or I’ll make his son live the same pathetic existence he does.”
Dean’s next breath came out harsher, as both John and Sam sharpened at the threat.
“That’s right, Dean. These are my terms of engagement, else I’m gonna have a bonfire with your girl here.”
It all gripped Dean at once.
Panic, anger, and desperation.
He grabbed the phone and spoke harshly into the speaker.
“Put her on the damn line," he said. "I wanna hear her and know this isn’t a trick.”
Daniel sighed, like he was getting bored. “Oh, all right.”
There was some shuffling, the sound of Daniel’s steps echoing in what sounded like a large room. Dean’s brows furrowed as he heard sounds of your struggle, then your labored breaths, as if a gag had been removed from your mouth.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Go ahead and talk to him,” said Daniel.
Soon enough, your tremulous voice reached him.
“Dean?” you said. You sounded like you were fighting tears; maybe even losing. Dean’s heart broke all the more for it.
“Yeah, it’s me. Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay,” you said, though your voice shook. He hoped you weren’t lying for his sake.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He raised a fist to his mouth, ignoring how it shook. “You’re gonna be okay. I’m going to find you—”
All too soon, the phone was taken away from you.
“Rule number one of negotiations, kid. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Dean’s eyes widened. The next thing he heard was a hard slap. It echoed into the speaker, along with your shout of both surprise and pain, a chair toppling over.
“You fucking bastard!” Dean seethed. “When I find you—”
John interrupted this time, taking the cell phone from Dean. He shot his son a look that was meant to be reassuring, but Dean was too incensed. Sam gripped his shoulder and earned his brother’s gaze. Dean’s chest heaved with the effort of calming his breathing.
“What do you want?” John said into the phone. His voice was clipped and direct.
While he continued to speak, Cas was frowning in frustration over his laptop.
“Anything?” Sam asked.
“I can’t get a lock on his signal. He must have something throwing off the scanner,” Cas replied.
Dean growled in frustration and pushed off the couch. He began to pace the living room, all while he tried to keep an ear on what John was saying lowly into the phone.
By the time he hung up, Dean was raging.
“Fuck this, I’m gonna find her,” he said. John tried to stop him from going anywhere with a hand on his shoulder. Dean knocked him off angrily. Sam also stood, for once on the same page as his father, no matter how much he sympathized.
“Dean, you need to calm down,” John tried.
It was the wrong thing to say.
“I didn’t ask for this!” Dean shouted. The force of it echoed on the apartment walls. “Matter of fact, I’ve never asked you for a damn thing until now. Only that you’d keep me in the loop on Azazel, and keep her out of this. But you couldn’t even do that, could you?”
Sam was at a loss, looking between his father and brother. Cas was also caught in between, watching the scene with concern, and bated breath.
John’s broad shoulders sunk a bit, along with the deep breath he expelled.
“You’re right,” John said. "You're right, son. And I'm sorry."
His eyes held the weight of his words. Of sincerity. And by degrees, Dean’s anger lessened.
Again, not by much.
“Let’s fix it,” said John. “Once and for all.”
Dean wasn’t fully recovered from his TBI. He’d been cleared for driving, but not yet for full physical exercise, let alone going back to work. The stress of all this was giving him a powerful headache, but there was no way he was going to be sidelined now, on any part of it.
Sam was forced to withdraw the case against Nick Savage, citing lack of evidence to support a trial at this time. The judge gave Sam permission to refile when he was able to build a better case.
John was then tasked with escorting Nick out of prison. Cas, meanwhile, was sitting in his personal car outside the county jail with Dean in the passenger seat. Cas didn’t trust what his friend would do behind the wheel once he saw Nick.
“What happens after Nick gets out?” Dean asked. “Dad’s been cagey about the whole deal.”
“We’re escorting him to the airport,” Cas said. “There we’ll wait for Daniel and make the exchange.”
Nick, for you. That was the deal.
“And then?” Dean asked, his teeth already clenching.
Cas blew out a sigh. “We’ll have a unit waiting on standby. We’re going to try and get ahold of whoever has her, though I doubt Daniel will come himself.”
“What if you can’t catch him?” Dean pressed.
Cas didn’t want to have to tell his friend something he didn’t want to hear, but he didn’t make a habit of lying to Dean. He wasn’t about to start now.
“Then it’s over, for now,” he replied. “We each go back to our corners and regroup.”
“Dad’ll never stop hunting this guy,” Dean said.
“That may be,” Cas nodded. “But he does have a line.”
“My father’s an obsessed bastard,” Dean groused. “He doesn’t have a damn line.”
Cas looked over at him then. He was calm and sympathetic, and yet, still disagreeing in his silence. Dean knew he was probably wrong, but in the moment, he didn’t care. He was still angry.
He perked up, however, when the prison doors slid open. Out came John escorting Nick and his lawyer, Amelia. Nick looked as smug as ever now that his cuffs were off. He was given the clothes he was arrested in—a blue silk shirt, pants, Italian leather shoes, and a silver Rolex watch.
Screw this, Dean thought. He unlocked the car from his side and climbed out. He didn’t care that he could hear Cas mutter a curse behind him and follow suit.
Nick saw Dean coming and couldn’t help but smirk, even as John grasped his arm and led him to his police car.
“Hey, fireman,” Nick taunted with his waggling brows. “Where’s our girl?”
Dean’s lips edged at a dangerous smile. Cas came up just behind him, ready to restrain him if need be.
“You can finesse your way out of this, but remember our little chat,” Dean said. His eyes burned with a thinly veiled threat. “Not a dime in this world can protect you from me.”
Nick pretended to shiver.
“Ooh, I’m so fucking scared,” he snarked. He resisted John’s manhandling and ripped his arm out of the other man’s grasp to step further into the open, leaving just a few yards between him and Dean.
“You can’t touch me,” Nick taunted. “You won’t dare. Not unless you want—”
Three shots rang out in the open clearing.
All heads ducked, but Dean’s eyes widened. He watched Nick crumple to the ground as scarlet red plumed in the man’s silk shirt. The shock etched on his face drained along with his life, leaving blue eyes staring up at a clear sky.
Forensics at the scene found traces of a sniper on the rooftop of a building directly across from the county jail.
John and Cas already were mounting an entire unit search in locating Alastair Rolston, but he had apparently moved out of his apartment as soon as he was released from prison with his immunity deal. (The police officers escorting him into witness protection had been found dead at the scene of his designated safe house.)
The detectives were later called into the medical examiner’s office on the case of Nick Savage—not to examine the body, but the bullets that had carved into his heart, right lung, and throat.
One of the bullets had a special casing. Inside was a rolled-up note, not unlike a carrier pigeon. It had a simple message:
JOHN — STULL STORAGE. COME ALONE.
Once again, Dean refused to sit idly. He’d pushed back hard enough that John had eventually relented. This time, however, Sam stepped in to make sure his brother was reigned in. Dean’s knee was already bouncing with anticipation and nervousness.
It was nearly midnight on a Tuesday. The brothers sat in the surveillance van with Jody Mills, all wearing protective Kevlar vests as precaution. The van was removed from the immediate site of Stull Storage, which was made up of a main warehouse and several rows of storage units on the other side.
Cas was leading another police unit on standby, but John was going into the warehouse. He wore his usual leather jacket over his rumpled shirt, pants, and boots, but also a protective vest and hidden wire under his collar.
Sam, Dean, and Jody were able to listen in as John entered alone.
He had a flashlight positioned over his raised gun as he walked into the building. He found some light switches along the wall and was able to turn on half the room’s fluorescent ceiling lights.
He heard a whimper.
Moving towards the sound cautiously, John soon found you tied to a chair. You looked a bit worse for wear; though you were dressed for an interview in black slacks and a blouse, your hair was in disarray, your cheek still sported a fading red mark, and you likely had other bumps and bruises.
Your eyes widened with hope when you saw John. You made sounds of surprise around the gag tied in your mouth, but he shushed you with a finger held to his lips.
He went over to you after lowering his gun, cocking back the safety, and re-holstering. He went to untie the gag first. You breathed deeply when it was gone.
“You okay?” he asked, touching your arm in comfort.
“Yeah,” you nodded, but your widening eyes still darted behind him.
Another safety clicked back. John immediately drew his gun again and turned. He was met with the man of the hour.
Standing mere feet away with his own gun was Daniel Savage. AKA: Azazel.
“Ooh, you’re getting old, John,” he said with a smirk. “Wasn’t expecting to get the drop on you so easily.”
John subtly moved so he was standing in front of you. He hadn't had time to untie you from the chair. Your breathing came out shallow as you tried to spy around John to your captor.
“Daniel,” John greeted. “It’s about time, wouldn’t you say?”
“You cheated though,” said Daniel, despite his cocky smirk. Like father like son. “I know you’ve got a team waiting in the wings.”
“If you wanna get technical, you cheated first,” John pointed out.
Daniel shrugged. Behind him came around ten of his own hired men, armed with their own guns. “Hate the player, hate the game, my friend.”
John’s lips pursed, but he didn’t lower his gun. He had a straight shot at Daniel’s chest.
“Even if you do get off a shot, you’ll be Swiss cheese where you stand,” Daniel said.
“Small price to pay for ending your miserable fucking life,” John remarked.
Daniel’s brows rose. “Are you gonna make her pay for it too?”
He gestured behind John, where he glanced back at your face. Your red-rimmed eyes were shining with tears. And John knew that once his gun fired, his body would hit the ground. Yours wouldn’t be far behind.
His brows furrowed, and the hands holding his weapon wavered.
“So how you do think this is gonna play out?” John asked.
“Well, for starters, you’re going to drop that damn gun,” said Daniel. He cocked his own weapon. “Then, you’re going to get down on your knees and take this bullet, like putting down a rabid dog. Then maybe, I’ll let her go before the cops rush in.”
John’s hesitation was mere seconds. He clicked the safety back on. He set down his gun, and lowered to his knees in slow movements.
Your eyes widened further as incredulous tears slipped down your cheeks. You shook your head.
“Don’t!” you said shakily.
John didn’t look back at you this time, but he did answer you.
“It’s all right, sweetheart,” he said.
Daniel’s grim smile made you shiver.
“What a caring father-in-law,” he said, and he slowly stalked forward. “You know, I prided myself on delegating my operations well. Oh, it was a well-oiled machine back in the day. But some things…well, some things are just better handled yourself. Know what I mean?”
He tilted his head down at John.
“For example: I really regret the way I had your wife killed,” he said. “For all the trouble you’ve given me, I wish I’d actually burned the bitch myself.”
John glared up at the man with pure fury and hatred.
Though his eyes widened when the first shot split the air, and buried a bullet in Daniel’s left arm. Daniel shouted in pain as he unconsciously dropped his gun. John dove for it, and everything started to happen at once.
Daniel kicked at John’s chest while holding his wounded arm, tossing the other man back. John rolled onto his feet, and their full out brawl began. Meanwhile, a unit of police officers swarmed into the warehouse and sparked a shootout with Daniel’s men.
And in all of this, Cas came out from behind your line of vision to untie you. He wore a protective vest over his usual white dress shirt, now rolled up to the elbows.
“Cas!” you gasped. He gave you a smile, then used a pocketknife to cut through the zip ties holding your wrists behind you and your ankles to the chair.
“Come on, let’s go.” He helped you up and guided you out the back of the warehouse.
The last coherent sound Sam and Dean heard was a bullet fired and hitting its target. They couldn’t tell if it was John or Daniel that had been hit, or even you.
Above all things, Dean was a man of action.
He just couldn’t take it anymore.
“Fuck this,” he growled. He got to his feet and went for the door of the surveillance van, but while Jody voiced her protest, it was Sam who reached him first.
“Dean, stop! You can’t go out there!” Sam said.
“The hell I can’t,” Dean said. The punch he reared back and threw was precise when it cracked Sam in the cheek. He went down hard. It was all Jody could do to keep him from knocking his head on the metal floor, but Sam was out cold, with his hair flopped over his face.
"Dean!" Jody yelled after him. She stared after the open door of the van with wide, worried eyes.
There were rows upon rows of storage units behind the warehouse. It felt like a maze in itself, one that you and Cas were forced to navigate alone in the crisp January night. Both of you saw your breath on the air as you tried to move quickly, but quietly.
Until a long arm reached out on the other side of a unit, and a hand closed on Cas’s gun, pushing it down and ripping it out of his hands. An elbow cracked into his face, making him grunt and stumble.
Your scream of surprise echoed in the night. You stared up into the familiar face of Alastair, whose mouth formed a sly grin.
“Hey there, beautiful,” he said.
Cas distracted him with a blow that Alastair blocked, but it gave Cas room to break the taller man’s stance and knock his head against the unit wall—once, twice, until the man stumbled and fell. He wasn’t knocked out, but Cas didn’t wait for Alastair to recover. He grabbed you and forced you to run.
“I thought he was in protective custody for the trial,” you said, through huffing breaths.
“Evidently he escaped,” Cas replied.
“God, Cas. You really need to hand out some pink slips,” you said, with a tremor in your voice. The police were supposed to have been watching you as well, before you were kidnapped. Cas conceded your point.
“We really shouldn’t have given him immunity,” he grumbled.
Dean knew he was being some kind of idiot.
Knew it as he carefully approached a side door of the warehouse. His vest wouldn’t protect his whole body if he entered the no man’s land shootout he could hear happening on the other side of the door.
Already he could see policemen escorting some of Azazel’s captured team around the front exit. Dean kept to the shadows, and he cracked the side door open.
There was still plenty going on inside. A few bodies were already strewn across the dusty warehouse floor. Large crates stacked up to the ceiling offered meager protection for both sides of the siege, including Dean as he kept to the wall and slid his way inside and behind a formation of wooden crates. He scanned the room until he found his dad.
John was fighting hand-to-hand with who had to be Daniel Savage. Even though the latter had blood dripping from his arm, John had his share of bruises and scrapes, including a long cut across his cheek from the knife clenched in Daniel’s non-injured right hand.
What the hell do I do? Dean assessed the situation, his eyes darting quickly between the men. He came in here without a weapon (another smart move). He went through most of the training a million years ago, but Dean wasn’t a police officer. He was a firefighter.
However, when he spotted a forgotten Glock on the floor, just a few yards away where the men were still tousling, Dean inched his way closer. He’d have to leave the relative safety of the crates and throw himself out into the open to reach the gun. At this point, Daniel was closer.
And he’d noticed the gun too, at the same time that John glanced up and saw his son. His eyes widened, and just for a moment he lost his grip on Daniel. The other man went for the gun at the same time Dean dove.
John yanked Daniel back by his collar and kneed him in the stomach. But Daniel had the longer reach. He cracked an elbow into John’s face and followed by a swift punch to the gut. John grunted and doubled over at the impact to his already battered ribs and stomach.
Daniel threw him head-first into a pile of nearby crates. He was breathing hard, but his lips twitched in satisfaction at the way John fell into a heap of broken wood. The detective was clearly waning.
Daniel stalked forward. Ignoring his still bleeding shoulder, he grabbed John by the jacket and collar of his shirt and hefted him up to his feet, prepared to deliver another blow. The cocking of a nearby gun made him pause. But in a moment, he twisted John in front him with an arm wrapped around his neck to face his next attacker.
While Daniel had been distracted, Dean had managed to dive and roll across the concrete, scooping up the gun on his way back onto his feet. Now he’d had the time to take aim and wait for his moment, which was right fucking now.
Slowly, Daniel tilted his head to look past John’s shoulder. He was met with Dean’s smirk and a gun pointed directly at his head.
“I think I’ve got something of yours,” Dean remarked. His fingers slid over the trigger.
Daniel tilted his head. A dry smile edged at the corner of his lips. “All right, Dean. Well played. But…”
He tightened his arm around John’s throat and held the knife poised at his neck.
“We’re at what you’d call an impasse, don’t you think?” Daniel asked.
“Dean,” John said. He met his eldest’s gaze as uncertainly crept into Dean’s stance. His hand was still held aloft, but there was an almost imperceptible shake.
“Just shoot him,” said John, with full conviction. “Don’t worry about me.”
Dean’s mouth pressed into a line, his brows furrowing. He wasn’t doing that.
“See, I don’t think he’s got it in ‘im,” Daniel said, speaking lowly in John’s ear. His knife tightened against John’s neck. “You’re out of your fucking depth, Dean.”
Dean flinched as a bullet zoomed past his head from across the room. He was reminded that there was still a fight going on, and the three of them were very much out in the open. John’s face turned more urgent, with thinly veiled worry.
“Dean, either shoot him or get the hell out of here,” he said tersely.
“I’m not leaving,” Dean said, with a small, stubborn shake of his head. But he was nervous. Despite how close he’d come with Nick Savage, Dean had never shot at someone, let alone taken a life. The gun was heavy in his hand.
“Running out of time, son,” Daniel taunted.
“I’m not your fucking son,” Dean gritted out. “Speaking of, did you have Alastair do your dirty work, taking out Nick, or did you pull that trigger yourself?”
Daniel’s smirk faded, his gaze tightening with resignation.
“Sacrifices, Dean,” he said. “We make ‘em to survive. To make sure our legacies survive.”
Dean’s eyes widened as he looked at this man, and he finally understood what his dad had been trying to tell him.
He ain’t a man. He’s a monster.
The gun was heavy in his hand…
“Come on, Dean!” Daniel shouted. “Make a decision—”
Dean still remembered most things he’d learned at the Police Academy. He’d lived, ate, sweat, and breathed those drills and tests for months. And yet, there was only one score he’d truly been proud of. It was the one record of his dad’s that he’d managed to beat.
You could guess which one.
Dean let his fingers squeeze the trigger on some instinct he couldn’t name. Daniel was forced to choke on his words.
Cas pulled you around the corner of a storage unit that blocked the light of the moon. It was just in time for a bullet to rip past where his head used to be.
You leaned heavily against the wall and heaved for breath, but Cas held a finger to his lips while he tried to calm his own breathing.
You held a hand over your mouth to try and stifle the sounds from getting out. Your eyes were wide and panicked, but Cas could only reassure you with a brief hand on your shoulder. He nodded and signaled with his free hand. Wait.
You gave a jerky nod in return. So he reached for his belt and brandished the only weapon he had left—the knife he’d used to cut through your bonds. The air was quiet, except for the distant shouts of police officers; it sounded like Azazel’s men were finally being rounded up.
Cas had called for backup earlier, but he didn’t think they could wait for it. Nor would he know if they were coming. He’d long since turned off the radio on his belt so that it couldn’t tip off his position with you.
He chanced looking around the wall of the storage unit. The coast looked clear, though he knew it wasn’t. Still, the best Cas could hope for was to cover you on the way back to the police barricade. He leaned back and reached for you. He guided you, both with his eyes and a hand on your back.
On the count of three, run, he mouthed. You wordlessly agreed. He saw the fear shining in your eyes.
One…two…
An arm shot out to grab Castiel’s collar the moment he stepped out from his cover, making you scream. The first punch came swift; Alastair was taller, perhaps stronger, but Cas recovered quickly.
He ducked the other man’s arm and delivered an uppercut that had his adversary careening back. With a well-placed jab to the wrist, Alastair’s gun clattered away across the ground.
Cas managed to shoot you a quick look. “Run. Now!”
You paused for a mere moment while Cas continued to grapple with Alastair. Then, in your frozen fear, you finally managed flight. And you took off running, even though Alastair tried to grab at your hair. Cas held him back and continued the fight.
You’d only managed a few yards of distance though, before you couldn’t help but look back. Something in you just couldn’t leave Cas behind.
You took cover behind another storage unit and watched Alastair slowly get the upper hand. He managed to pin Cas against the ribbed metal wall of a unit. He winced as it dug into his spine, but he had bigger problems.
He spat blood after the third blow to his jaw and tried to blink dark spots of his vision. Alastair looked down on him with the lean look of a predator. His smile betrayed the enjoyment he took in his work.
“Contrary to what you might think, I’ve never killed a cop before,” he said. “Just a cop’s wife.”
Cas’s eyes widened a fraction. Alastair’s smile deepened. He raised a bloody fist to finish his work, but he winced and weakened with a shout as a knife embedded deep in his thigh.
It was Cas’s knife that you’d found on the ground.
Alastair’s angry eyes looked down and met your scared ones. You let go of the knife and scrambled back. He backhanded you roughly. You cried out and fell hard on the pavement.
Alastair reached for the knife, but Cas grabbed it first. He twisted as he yanked it out, then jabbed it into the taller man’s neck. It choked his scream as he stumbled back. And yet, even that didn’t manage to kill him.
Cas dove for the fallen gun. It was mere feet away from where he’d forced it out of Alastair’s grip. Cas felt a hand grab his shoulder. He reacted fast—he turned and shot two rounds of hot led into Alastair’s gut.
His gray eyes went wide. Blood gurgled in his mouth.
And slowly, Alastair slid to the ground.
Cas was bloody, his shirt stained and torn, but he was still standing with ragged breath. You had managed to sit up, though your shocked eyes were trained on the body you’d just seen fall into a heap. The horrific spell of it broke when Cas gently touched your shoulder.
You gasped and raised your head.
“It’s okay,” he said, reaching a hand to you. “It’s over.”
Cas escorted you back to the police barricade. There you found Sam, and the mere sight of him relieved you so much you didn’t realize you were crying when you stepped into his embrace. He hugged you tight and asked if you were all right.
You couldn’t give him an honest answer, but at least you were alive.
“I’m okay,” you said tremulously, but you pulled back at grasped his arms. “Where’s Dean?”
Sam looked anxious as his gaze flit between you and Cas.
“That goddamn idiot, he went in there! They won’t let me through—”
“What?” Cas said incredulously. “Into the warehouse?”
Your tears fell anew as a new frantic worry took hold, churning in your stomach and making you feel sick. You turned, and both Cas and Sam had to stop you from heading towards the warehouse.
“Get him out of there!” you cried. “Dean!”
You tried to push past Cas and his attempts to calm you, but you stopped the moment you saw him…
Dean was helping John limp out of the warehouse. Jody was on John’s other side, supporting him as well. John looked beat to hell, and exhausted, but there was no mistaking the calm look on his face. Like he’d finally sleep tonight.
Dean, on the other hand, looked pale, haggard, and worried. However, his head perked up as soon as he heard your voice. His eyes widened. He turned to Jody to make sure she could support John on her own, and she nodded at him.
It let Dean make his way straight for you.
Sam and Cas finally released you, like a horse waiting to bolt out of the stables. Your tears blurred your vision as you went to him.
When Dean swept you up into his arms, you were able to throw yours around his neck and cling to him for all you were worth. You buried your face into his neck and sobbed your relief.
You wouldn’t know that Dean’s eyes were shining and red, his mouth trembling slightly as he sucked in a breath and held you as tight as he dared. His hand came up to cup the back of your head, over your wild hair. His lips pressed to the side of your head as he closed his eyes for a moment.
“You okay?” he asked, when he was able to speak.
“Mhmm,” you nodded, though his question prompted you to pull back and find his face. Your heels came back to the ground, and you reached up to stroke his cheek and search his gaze.
“What about you?” you asked tremulously. “Your head?”
“’M fine,” he said. Though the truth was, he was reeling. His ears still rung from the bullet that hit Daniel between the eyes.
The weight of that decision was almost too fresh to be real, but it was heavy on Dean all the same. He could even get in legal trouble for this. He wasn’t supposed to have entered that building. Hell, he’d picked up a gun and shot a man.
Though he already knew what Sam would say.
Justification. Imminent danger. Self-defense.
Dean just didn’t know if that would fly here, especially with the Fire Department.
Right now, however, you were his lifeline. You grounded him in reality when you held his face in your hands. Just beyond you, he could see the relief on both Sam and Cas’s faces.
Dean gave them a smile, but he focused back on you. He held your hand to his cheek.
“Promise me you’re gonna stay put for a while,” he quipped. “Preferably where I can see you.”
You scoffed at him through the tears glittering in your eyes.
“Dean Winchester, if that isn’t the most hypocritical thing that’s ever come out of your mouth!” you said, punctuating your words with a slap on his chest.
“Hey!” he protested, but you ignored him. You gripped his shirt and felt the Kevlar underneath. It might’ve protected his chest, but he hadn’t had anything to protect his damn head.
“You run into fires, not bullets, you idiot,” you said, now wiping frustrated tears from your cheek.
Dean’s tension began to ease with a smile. He held you more securely, pulling you flush against him.
“You sound like Bobby,” he teased.
“Good!” you snapped. “You’re not allowed to scare me like that. Do you hear m—?”
He didn’t think he’d ever miss you giving him shit, but this time, it just made him smile until the corners of his eyes crinkled. Shortly before he cut you off with a searing kiss.
You made a sound of surprise, even as you gripped at his shirt, then his face to keep him there. You both knew this night was long from being over. An even longer way from recovering.
But for now, this was a good start.
AN: And so, we're drawing near to the end. 🥹 What did you think of the respective ends of Nick and Daniel Savage, and even Alastair? And of course, her and Dean's reunion. 💗
Soon (this weekend), we have the epilogue...
Next Time:
“So…I’ve gotta tell you something,” said Dean, after he parted from your lips for a moment, and allowed you to breathe. His tone made you tilt your head in suspicion.
“It’s nothing bad,” he said, though he looked a bit nervous.
Your brows furrowed. You led him to the couch, where he took your hands in his. It took him a moment to get started. He seemed stuck on what he wanted to say, or maybe just how he wanted to say it.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure I can handle it,” you teased.
Dean gave you a smile. His shoulders relaxed a little...
Keep Reading: THE EPILOGUE
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Series Tag List (Part 1):
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#Sacrifice#Smoke Eater#Part 19#dean winchester#Firefighter!Dean Winchester#dean winchester x reader#Dean Winchester x female reader#firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reader#dean winchester x you#firefighter AU#dean winchester AU#spn#supernatural#john winchester#sam winchester#Castiel#zepskies writes
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