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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 8 months

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most people

Tony Stark x F!Reader

Prompt: “i can't believe you don't like hugs."

Summary: you come home to the tower to hear that your teammate tony has been awake for days. you take it upon yourself to get to complete some much-needed self-care.

Warnings: fluff.

Word Count: 1,741

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The door sounded with a quiet, welcoming ding as the elevator arrived on your floor, the lights of your suite already on and pleasantly dimmed to accommodate to the tenderness of your eyes this late at night. It was a little before three in the morning, and while your flight had had no major issues and the traffic between the airport and Avengers Tower had been blessedly in your favor, it was still agonizing to be getting home so late.

Home.

It still surprised you how quickly you’d come to think of this place as more than just a place to sleep, more than what had originally felt like a ridiculously over-sized hotel room. It had been only six months since Loki’s attack on New York, and while the renovations to the Tower were not yet finished, your suite had been one of the first floors to be completed. And now it somehow felt far more familiar to you than any of the countless beds you had claimed over the last twenty-seven years.

“Welcome back, Ms. Y/L/N,” the cool, friendly voice of Tony’s personal assistant sounded from the invisible speakers above you. “I trust your journey was pleasant.”

“It was, for a nine-hour flight in a broken seat,” you replied with a sigh, stretching out the lingering kink in your lower back. You set your suitcase down by the elevator doors. “And how many times do I have to tell you; it’s just Y/N.”

“I’m sure only once more,” he replied. “As always.”

You chuckled, a small, tired smile lingering on your lips. “Are the others here?”

“Only Mr. Stark is in residence at the moment,” the A.I. informed you as you made your way further into your suite. You toed off your shoes, shedding your jacket and tossing it onto the nearby sofa. “Shall I inform him of your arrival?”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to wake him.”

There was a slight pause. “Mr. Stark is not asleep, Ms. Y/L/N.”

How an A.I. could have a variation in tone, you weren’t sure, but you stopped halfway to unbuttoning your jeans. “And how long exactly has Tony been awake?”

“…Almost eighty-three hours, ma’am.”

“I think I hate ‘ma’am’ even more than my last name.” you sighed, casting a glance towards the room to your left. The door was ajar, and you swore your bed was calling to you. “Where is he?”

“In the lab.”

“…Okay.”

***

A wall of sound greeted you as you stepped into the lab, and you flinched. It lowered immediately to a more bearable level, and you silently praised whatever part of JARVIS’ programming it was that could pick up on your discomfort like that.

“JARVIS,” Tony said without looking up from his work. “Don’t mess with my music.”

He was at the far end of the lab, moving between a couple of workbenches and the hologram of his latest designs with the disorganized, staccato rhythm you had begun to recognize as being a sign of sleep deprivation. There was a half-empty coffee pot on the bench closest to you, the scent of it gone stale. Tony’s clothes were rumpled, as was his hair, and you frowned when you noticed the shadows under his eyes. They were made darker by the blue light of the hologram between the two of you.

“I think we can do better on these reflector panels, J.,” he continued as though he hadn’t noticed you enter. “If this suit is going to work for stealth, I’m going to need the change to be instantaneous.” He waved a hand, and parts of the suit projected in front of him dropped away. “Scrap ‘em. Take it from the top.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hello to you, too, Stark.” you said snidely despite your concern. “Or am I expected to call you ‘sir’ in here, too?”

“Only if you want me to get all tingly over it,” he retorted teasingly, finally pausing long enough to meet your eye. He gave you a genuine, if distracted and exhausted, smile.

“Most people just say ‘welcome home’.”

Tony returned to one of the benches, eyes fixating on a tablet screen. “Are you implying that I could possibly be ‘most people’?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied, sidestepping an abandoned helmet prototype. There was an empty coffee mug sitting inside it. The crockery was stained with dark brown rings. You made you way around to his workbench, pushing yourself up to sit on the edge of it beside him. “Tony, when was the last time you got some sleep?”

“You know the answer to that,” he said, pointedly avoiding your eye and focusing his gaze on the work in front of him. “Or did you come all the way down here just for a hug?”

“A hug? Hardly,” you said with a scoff.

Tony met your eye, raising a brow. There was a teasing tilt to his lips, a challenge in his expression. “I don’t accept that.”

“Accept what?”

“I can’t believe that you don’t like hugs.” he said, straightening. He moved to stand in front of you, his hands claiming your knees. You felt a warmth spread up from where he touched you to heat your belly, and you straightened slightly, wetting your lips with the tip of your tongue. “I refuse to accept it. I mean, for a woman completely capable of breaking every bone in my body with her bare hands, you’re downright cuddly.”

As he said the last words he reached up and touched the tip of his finger to your nose tauntingly, and you wrinkled it in response. He chuckled, and you rolled your eyes at him. Something about sleep deprivation always made him lighter, more teasing. While his usual jokes were witty and occasionally flirty, when you found him like this, he was… softer. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a massive dork?”

Tony’s grin widened, and he stepped back, holding up his hands as though you’d just proved his point. “See, anyone else would call me an asshole, but you – sweet, innocent thing that you are – go with ‘dork’.”

“Oh, Stark. Trust me,” you snickered, pushing yourself up off the edge of the table. It closed much of the distance between the two of you, your chest almost meeting his. You made a show of casting your eyes down over him before meeting his eye with a smirk. “If you actually knew me, the last word you’d be using to describe me is ‘innocent’.”

Intrigue flashed in his eyes, a curve to his parted lips sending an unexpected thrill up your spine. He made move to speak, but you pressed a finger to his lips. His smile widened against your skin.

“I’m sure whatever you were about to say would have been rife with innuendo, Tony,” you said. “But honestly, you kind of stink. How long’s it been since you had a shower?”

***

“Y’know, I’m not really sure why I had to stick around for this.” you called out over the sound of rushing water, folding your arms over your chest. You were standing outside the penthouse bathroom, your back against the wall beside the door. Steam billowed out of the open doorway, clinging to your bare arms.

The water shut off, and Tony’s reply came a few moments later, his voice echoing off the tile. “And here I thought you were worried about my wellbeing, sweetheart.”

“You’re not exactly at risk of drowning in the shower, Tony,” you pointed out. You heard his answering chuckle and the sounds of cabinet doors opening and closing. There was a long silence, punctuated only by the quiet sounds of shaving cream being sprayed and a razor against skin. “And you survived it. So, can I go to bed now?”

“And miss out on this quality team-bonding time?” he called out. “Shudder to think.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes with a smile. “‘Team-bonding’? We’re missing a couple of key members here. Unless you’ve got Rogers stashed in your shower caddy.”

“Not exactly the member I’d pick for that,” he replied as he stepped through the doorway, wiping at his jaw with a towel. Another was slung securely around his hips. Rivulets of water marked his bare torso, droplets clinging to his chest. There was a teasing smirk on his lips, and you swallowed. “Now, Romanoff on the other hand—”

“I’m going to stop you there before this conversation devolves into casual misogyny,” you eye-rolled, holding up a hand.

“I’ll have you know I’m an equal opportunity lech.” Tony shot back, amused. “I just didn’t think Thor would fit in the caddy.”

You snorted a laugh.

“Right…” you said. He’d missed a tiny patch of shaving cream on the corner of his jaw, and you reached up to wipe it away with two fingers. Tony’s smile widened as you wiped it on his bare chest. You cleared your throat as you realized the intimacy of your actions. “Well, you’ve managed to navigate the perils of a penthouse bathroom, Iron Man. Congrats.”

“So, what’s your excuse now?”

Confusion creased the skin between your brows. “For what?”

Tony’s smirk twitched, and you recognized the challenge in his eyes. Something in the pit of your stomach fluttered. “For turning down a hug.”

You laughed, shaking your head disbelieving. “God, Stark, you are such a—”

Tony took hold of your arm, surprising you by pulling you toward him and bringing his lips to yours. They were soft and warm, teasing with the taste of spearmint. The clean scent of his body wash enveloped you, his fingers gentle but firm on your arm. The warmth of his body – still bolstered by the heat of the shower – leached into your skin, wrapping you in a ghost of an embrace that made you lean into him. The kiss lasted only a moment before he pulled back again, that expression of taunting flirtation still in place.

You pressed your lips together, your skin tingling. “What was that for?”

He shrugged a shoulder, tightening the towel around his waist. There was an annoying note of nonchalance in his expression, and self-assuredness that told you he knew exactly what kind of effect he’d just had on you. “Call it a thank you.”

“I—” you swallowed, forcing your breath to steady. “Most people just say ‘thank you’.”

He grinned, his teeth grazing his bottom lip. “Didn’t we agree that I’m not ‘most people’?”

tags: @trekkingaroundasgard @ccbsrms @lina-mar@lovely-dreamer19@wittyforachange@wefracturedmotivation@january-echoes@glossyloner@capitalnineteen@youclickedthislink@s0ftness@castieltrash1@drakelover78@queenoftheunderdark@fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13@lol-you-thought@sebbystanlover-vk@mikariell95@csigeoblue@abrunettefangirlnerd@babyblues915@aar-journey@moistpotatobear @capsironunderoos @bellamyblakemorley@diesinspanishbcimhispanic@sentimentalalien@agustdowney@akumune@xxboesefrauxx@patheticallysentimental@loki-is-loved

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lilypadlys · 20 days

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Mushy May Day Seven - Gift Giving

Ship: Phantom/Dewdrop

Notes: I changed the prompt for today :) Dew helps Phantom who has a habit of misplacing all of his guitar picks. Prompt list by @forlorn-crows. See prompt list here

Word Count: 305

Read on AO3 or below the cut

Dewdrop walks into the practice room to see Phantom bent over squinting at the ground.

“Did you lose your pick again?” Dewdrop half chuffs, half sighs.

Phantom’s sheepish grin says it all.

“What happened to the ones I taped to your guitar?”

“...I lost em…”

“And the ones Rain put in your pickguard?”

“...those too…”

“Bug, it's been a week. How did you lose five picks in a week?”

Phantom shrugs then ducks his head.

“Can I-”

“No you can’t have any more of mine you little thief. We’re finding all the ones you’ve lost.”

“But-”

“Nuh uh. Don’t want to hear it. Start looking.”

The two of them scour the practice room and then the ghoul den and manage to find thirty seven guitar picks, nineteen of which Phantom is responsible for, three dollars and twenty-two cents in change, and Aether’s spare reading glasses that have been missing for a month.

After they pile their finds on the kitchen table, Phantom goes to shove a handful of picks in his jacket pocket.

“Stop that. That's how you lost them in the first place.” Dew chides. He reaches into his own pocket and tosses a small cloth keychain at the quintessence ghoul.

“Huh?”

“It’s a pick holder. Put it on your belt or guitar case and keep your picks in there.”

Sure enough it's a little folded diamond of fabric, sew up on the sides and with a little button closure. Phantom can tell from the bat fabric and slightly rough stitches that it’s handmade.

“Did you make this yourself?”

“Yeah.” Dew shrugs. “Don’t mention it.”

“Thank you!” Phantom squishes Dew in a hug that he only slightly resists.

“Yeah yeah, just stop taking all my picks alright?”

“I’ll try!”

Dew sighs but smiles. “That’s about as much as I can hope for, I suppose.”

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #phantom ghoul #dewdrop/phantom #fluff #gift giving #mushy may 2024 #lys writes #Also sorry to my guitar teacher from whom I've stolen many picks from over the years. You're not getting them back.

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the-laughing-lunatic · 1 month

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Scout x reader who's never been to a baseball game before (ROMANTIC)

(I was bored and wrote this, I actually have been to multiple baseball games before but my ass still doesn't know anything about it. Reader's gender neutral as always. Trying to get better at writing oneshots so have this ig :/ Word count: ~1400)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was strangely calm that day, it was one of the occasional days off that the mercs had. You sat on your bed, reading through some random magazine you’d picked up here or there when your boyfriend Scout barged in. “Hey doll!”

You continued flicking through the pages of the magazine, not flinching. You’d gotten used to this after a year of knowing him and two months of dating him. The door might as well not have existed at this point. “Yes?”

“Wanna go to the game today? With me?” he said, flashing you two tickets in his hand.

“What kinda game?” You looked up.

“Only the best game to be created,” he said with a smirk. “Baseball.”

You shrugged. “Sure, I don’t have anything else to do—” you barely got out before you were tackled with a hug by Scout, your magazine falling somewhere on the bed as you were wrapped up in his arms. “Jesus, you’re that excited, huh?”

He only chuckled and kissed your cheek. “Hell yeah I am! I get to have my two favorite things, baseball and you, dollface.”

You roll your eyes and give him a kiss on the cheek back, relaxing into his arms for a moment as you soak up his warmth. “...wait, am I below baseball?”

“Uhh…”

ੈ♡˳

“Bye Engie! Thanks for the ride!” Scout yelled out as Engineer drove away in his pickup truck, leaving the two of you to the sea of people waiting to get in despite the insufferable heat.

“Geez, are there normally this many people at these things?” you said as you held onto Scout’s hand to not lose him as you walked to the back of the line for the ticket booth.

“What, ya never been to a baseball game before?” he said with a laugh. It was a rhetorical question from his perspective, but not for you.

“No.” Scout’s jaw dropped.

“W- whaddya mean you’ve never been to a baseball game before, w- why? How?” In his mind, baseball was the most amazing game in the world, and it was simply a crime that the most amazing person in the world had never seen it.

You shrugged. “Just never did.” Scout was full of feelings about this. On one hand, you were his dollface and it hurt that you had been deprived of one of the greatest pleasures life could offer. On the other hand, he got to be the guy to introduce you to your first baseball game, which had the same significance as a first kiss. In his mind at least.

“D’ya at least know the game? Like, how it works?”

You thought for a moment before saying: “Um, you hit balls and run a lot?”

Hoo boy. Scout sighed. “I mean- you ain’t wrong but ya ain’t right. Listen doll, so there’s nine guys on each team, right? And one of the guys is the pitcher for the inning. The pitcher, he’s the fella who . . .”

ੈ♡˳

“. . . and then the outfielders, once you have those fellas you can get somethin’ called a line drive where it hits right to ‘em without touchin’ the ground–”

It had twenty non-stop minutes of Scout explaining the entire concept of baseball to you, and if you heard another way a ball can be thrown you were gonna snap. You took his face in your hands and kissed him before another move could be explained.

His ears flushed red and he froze for a moment after you pulled away. “Uh, what was that all about, doll?”

“I love you but if I hear another word about baseball I’m gonna lose it. Can I just watch the game with you and enjoy it that way?” you ask.

“Fine, fine—” he cuts himself off as the two of you are both hit with the realization. You said I love you. Shit, shit, shit shit shitshitshit!

Before you can stammer out a sorry or any other form of explanation, the woman in the ticket booth says “Next!” and you’re left to panic while Scout gives her the tickets.

We’ve only been dating for a few months, is that weird to say? It must be, he didn’t say it back. Maybe he didn’t hear me? No, he definitely heard me. Oh god, I fucked this up bad, fuck—

“Hey dollface, she said we can go in, c’mon,” he said with a smile, squeezing your hand and leading you into the stadium. You two found a spot in the bleachers, luckily under the shade of an awning. You nervously bounced your leg as you prepared for the game to begin.

He’s not treating me any differently, maybe he’s just gonna ignore that I said that. Please, god just ignore it.

“Geez, real anxious to see the game, huh doll?” he said to you with a smile.

“Yeah, yeah.” Maybe this would all be okay, another normal date. Just ignore that gross feeling in your gut and it’ll be fine.

ੈ♡˳

It was not all fine. Everytime the word ‘love’ came out of Scout’s mouth you couldn’t help but feel a growing annoyance. And he said it a lot.

“Man, I love that guy!”

“ —fuckin’ love this hot dog—”

“Love the view, right doll?”

It’s like he was rubbing it in. The gross feeling, the loud noise and the tight packed crowd all teamed up to give you a headache. Great. You distracted yourself from the feeling by leaning into him and eating your popcorn, desperately trying to understand the game in front of you. Maybe you should have listened a little more to your boyfriend’s explanation. “You cold dollface?

“Nah, just tired and have a little headache, ‘m fine,” you said as you popped another piece of popcorn in your mouth.

He wrapped his arm around you so you could have more support. “We, uh, don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, y’know. It’s the bottom of the fifth if you wanna get out of here.”

“No, no, it‘s fine, gotta stay for my first baseball game. Besides, isn’t that rude to just leave?”

“Naw, it’s fine. ‘S pretty normal not to stay the whole nine innings for your first game. ‘Sides, I don’t want you to feel like shit. We could go to a game some other time, how’s that sound?”

You smiled softly. “Sounds perfect.”

“Good, now c’mon,” he said as he picked you up in his arms to carry you out of the stadium.

“Jeremy, my head is the thing that hurts, not my legs. I can still walk, you doofus,” you laughed. He kissed your forehead.

“Whatever you say, sweetcake, but I’m still carryin’ ya.”

ੈ♡˳

It was dark out, and Jeremy had just finished calling Engineer on the pay phone while you sat on a nearby bench: Scout’s jacket draped over you. Only a few people milled about, leaving to their cars underneath the street lamps.

Jeremy sat down next to you, reaching to hold your hand. “Engie’s gonna be here in ‘bout ten minutes...you alright doll?”

You delicately took it. “I dunno…”

“Did anything happen?”

“I mean, kinda? It’s stupid though, dunno why I’m getting so focused on it.”

“Can you tell me?”

You took a deep breath and looked at the concrete. “Well, I don’t know if you actually heard me, but earlier I accidentally said that I love you. I- I mean, not accidentally, I do, but it just, y’know, slipped out.”

“I heard you doll,” Scout said, tilting your face up to look at him.

“Then why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I get if you don’t love me yet, I’m not gonna blame you, but just say something.”

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know if you were bein’ serious, doll,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Y’know, you’re amazing and sweet, and almost every time I’ve liked someone this fantastic they’re just with me for laughs.”

“Jeremy…we’ve been dating for two months, did you really think that I don’t care about you?”

“Well I mean, two months right. I kinda thought you would’ve already said ‘I love you’ by now, so just- I dunno. . . do you actually love me?”

“Of course I do, Jeremy, I just was nervous because I thought I said it too early,” you said, leaning closer to him, looking at how his face caught the light of the street lamp.

“I love you too,” Scout said with a dorky smile before pulling you close and kissing you. You probably would’ve kissed for much longer but the sound of a truck horn interrupted you.

“Hey lovebirds, get in!” Engineer shouted from the truck.

Scout pulled away and blushed before getting in with you, holding your hand tight the whole time.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #scout tf2 #scout tf2 x reader #scout #scout x reader #fanfiction

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strawhatkia · 10 months

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boyfriend.

INCLUDES ! katsuki bakugo x black!fem!reader

GENRE ! fluff

SYNOPSIS ! general relationship headcanons with katsuki !

WARNINGS ! cussing, kats still in highschool, suggestive(?), edited for grammatical errors but lemma know if i missed something

WORD COUNT ! 0.9k+

A/N ! once again, another old work reposted from my last blog. and again, i think it is so hot of this fandom to just headcannon that bakugo is for black women like- yes 💕(i had to break this up into blocks or this post was not going up)

MAIN MASTERLIST | BNHA MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

— ☾⋆⁺₊🧨💢✧

this mofo y’all-

this boy loves you so much but that pride fucks him up every single time

he has no problem saying i love you or even showing his love through actions but in public? you ain’t getting shit !

he just gets wayyy too flustered but i truly think that actions mean a lot to him so he'll still he’ll hug you and whisper it to you

“i love you” “huh?” “SHUT UP! I DIDN’T SAY SHIT!” “nigga damn-”

but beyond that! this man will go above and beyond to make sure you know that you are loved

hell, he’ll spoil you for the sole reason that he does in fact love you more than life itself

(this is saying so much because as much as loves heroes and wants to become one, i truly think that for you, he would do damn near anything even if it means jeopardizing his dream)

i personally think he takes pride in buying you shit so when people ask, you can be like “oh yeah, my boyfriend brought me all of that” “…sis thats at least twenty damn bags of clothes and jewelry-”

his big-headed self is probably like “hell yeah I did”

ironically, he hates when you spend yo own money on him or yourself- don't get it twisted, he definitely does not mind you being independent, he actually encourages it!

...but this is the one thing he won’t let go

this nigga will start hiding yo cards and shit or start blowing them bitches up (card pieces gets vacuumed by the damn roomba before you even notice)

he feign like he stupid or some shit despite being the smartest, most organized nigga you know

but when yo card goes missing...all of sudden, he lost his damn memory?

“kats, where did my card go?” “…....huh?” “nigga- YOU FUCKING HEARD ME! WHERE IS MY DAMN CARD!?!?”

this motherfucker is definitely checking on yo back account every two days just make sure money is coming in and not out

hell the fucking bank tellers know him by name, could point him out a meters before he walks in

if you somehow find that card, first of all: props to you!

second of all: it is not yours forever and it will go missing again in under 24 hrs.

however, the most important thing he decided to buy you was a pretty gold custom necklace of his name and gold bamboo hoops to match !

the hoops he didn’t really care for, they cute and you look gorgeous, but that necklace- chile...

it was almost like he cared for it more than you did…cause he did

he always touching it, fiddling with it, and you know that bitch is real so sometimes he likes to polish it especially when you two to go to events- let it shine in people faces and let 'em know the one by you don't play about you

but if you take it off- sis, did you write yo will yet? put that bitch back on before he catch you

it’s real for a reason- so you don’t have to take it off

if he does catch the necklace not on yo body, he’s gon be pissed

“WHY IN THE HELL IS YO NECKLACE NOT ON YO NECK AND IN MY HAND!?!?” “hol on now- calm yo self. i took it off cause i didn’t want it to get messed up-” “I DON’T GIVE A DAMN! PUT THE SHIT BACK ON!!”

….it’s such a silly thing to get angry over but don’t take it off sis, if you value yo life

(sidenote: tying back in with his love for actions, he just loves giving gifts, more importantly gifts that you can wear or use b/c then you can think of him when you do wear/use it)

for some reason, whether big or small, he loves hitting your ass. and i don’t mean no petty swat, i mean he’s throwing hands

*SMACK!* “ow! my nigga, have you lost yo god damn mind?!?” “what~? it looked at me first”

not to mention but any chance he get- he’s grabbing the yams

motherfucker can not keep his damn hands to himself, he gotta touch, even if it’s a quick squeeze

y’all laying in bed? grabbing the yams. you laying on yo couch, minding yo business? grabbing the yams. talking to yo lil friends? grabbing them yams. working on the field with him? grabbing the yams.

when y’all sleeping together, his hands always gravitates towards ya ass and stays there maybe even some soft booty rubs

moving on

i’d like to mention that: he is a big baby... like the biggest baby you have ever seen

he won’t ever admit it out loud but sometimes he hates how good you get along with his friends

like yes, he’s happy that all of you get along really well but damn it pay attention to him, not no fucking extras

and he’s so petty about it. you’ll be talking to kiri and em’ and all of sudden this mother fucker is pulling you into his lap

if you still continue to ignore him or don’t give him all of your attention, he’ll pull away from everyone to some where private and start ranting on how you should pay attention to him and not some fucking extras

and if it’s deku who’s has your attention- ok first of all, how dare you? and second of all, 'getcho yo ass over here before I kill that nerd'

dramatic much? like damn nigga calm down

and now lastly, let’s talk about golden hour

at first he didn’t know what the fuck it was but when he learned, he was obsessed

“suki, do you wanna do golden hour pictures with me?” “what the hell is that?” “…just bring yo ass on-”

the way you was just sitting there, shining and shit; melanin taking in all that good sun and the way his necklace was shining against you- mans was hooked

man’s in his head was like “i’m dating a literal goddess….good job, katsuki😌”

now he thinks it’s his personally duty to become yo photographer at golden hour. if you let anyone else do it, he will throw a very big tantrum

he loves taking the pictures especially when have just woken up, bonnet still on head, bare face, wearing his t-shirt- yuh yuh, that part;those pictures go up on his instagram page that has more pictures of you than him, with the caption “look at my baby 🥰” sappy, corny ass nigaa

the fangirls was not happy about that but ha! the comments have been off-

but yeah, boom boom boy loves you more than anything in this world💕

©STRAWHATKIA ━ all rights reserved. all content published on this blog belongs to starsoir. please refrain from copying, stealing, profiting off my works, or using my works for asmr related work. i don’t allow my works to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

reblogs and comments are welcomed and loved, so leave some please ! i will respond ! 🤍

did you enjoy this work ? i have more !

lip gloss, lil mama. | f. | bakugo, sero, shinsou, hawks, and mirio.

taglist : @mypimpademia

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tieronecrush · 9 months

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꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter five: hard liquor mixed with a bit of intellect

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 6.8k

a/n: SURPRISE! got my life together and got the chapter done for y'all <333 also thank you for always validating me and loving these two as much as me <3 you are stuck beta-reading for me forever hehe @northernbluess

“Christ, Bebita, that one is as good as the last one and the one before that and the one before that. I can’t pick, you look too damn good in all of ‘em.” Javier traces his bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, reaching a hand up to swipe his thumb at the corner of his open mouth and sniffling on an inhale. Expansive, strong torso and broad, steady shoulders trail down to his legs that stretch out from the small square stool in the corner of the dressing room you’ve been occupying for at least twenty minutes.

His gentle toffee eyes study your form in the earthy olive-toned cocktail dress; the silky material hugs your curves while you twist in view of the mirror, the hemline hitting mid-calf and a halter top covering your chest modestly while leaving your shoulders and back bare. There’s delicate glass beading embroidered into floral and leafy patterns along the bodice, reflecting the lights. You can imagine the way it will look in the low light, swanky library party with enough champagne passed around for all of the academics to let loose. It’s a bit of a stretch for appropriate for the department event, but with the burning of Javier’s eyes into your skin, you know that this one is doing something a bit more than the last five dresses. Sighing with resignation, you drop your hands from where they are mapping over the intricate beading. Your bottom lip releases from between your teeth and you take a step closer to Javi, chuckling softly when his hands involuntarily reach for your hips to pull you between his open legs.

“That isn’t helpful feedback, Javier. I need some concrete decisions to be made. You’re in charge of my dress unless you can’t handle it cause then I’ll—”

“Oh, no. No, no, no. This one, I choose this one,” he muffles his voice when he leans forward to press kisses against the skin of your forearms, toying with your fingers and intertwining them with his when his large hands find your smaller ones. “You’re beautiful in everythin’, Bebita, any of these dresses, or even a paper bag, and you’re fucking stunning. But I can tell you liked this one most.”

Javier lifts his head to meet your eyes, one side of his mouth ticking up in a smile — satisfied, content, proud that he knows you so well to be able to read you like that.

It’s simultaneously making your heart beat faster, your stomach drops to the floor, and your palms grow sweaty. He’s so much more to you, but you’re too cowardly to admit it to him. Javier is…everything you’ve hoped for, but has come at the worst time.

It’s a job. That’s all. He has to be, or else you’re screwed if you say ‘fuck it’ and drop all of your other clients and give Javier your heart. There’s no way that you could continue living in your apartment and attending school; you would probably have to go back to working full-time until you could break your lease and find somewhere cheaper or move home and transfer your credits.

“Y’alright there, angel? Lookin’ a little flushed.” Javier’s brows knit with concern until you brush them away, thumb lightly rubbing the fold in his skin to relax it.

“M’alright, Javi. Think it’s time to quit the try-on portion of the day.” Hands reach back to find the zipper, Javier jumps up quickly and walks you back a few inches to have the room to slip behind you and take over the task.

“Guess it’s the take-off portion? Lemme do it for you, gonna need the practice of gettin’ this off when I take you home Friday night.” Through the reflection, he catches your eye and smirks boyishly, dragging the zipper down your lower back and folding forward to press ghosting kisses to your smooth skin. “Mm, so soft, angel. Smell so sweet.”

His voice drops lower, rasp biting out on the upticks of his speaking, “D’you know what watchin’ you in all these pretty dresses has done to me?”

A sigh escapes your lips, shaking your head languidly, rolling it on your shoulders, “No…Wh-what did it do?”

Without a word, Javier unclasps the halter of your dress, dropping the material to fall to your ankles. In the midst of you stepping out of the circle of fabric, he grips your hips tightly and tugs you back to his chest. Then you feel it, when your back arches and your lower half presses backward, the bulge of his hard cock prodding into the swell of your ass.

“Javi—”

“Nuh uh, Bebita. No Javi.” His lips are at the pressure point under your ear, your eyes fluttering closed while one hand snakes back to tangle into his hair. Grinding back against him, you lick your lips and whimper when a hand of his reaches around your front and slips between your legs to brush your clit.

“Papí…Fuck, papí…Need you.”

“Manners, Bebita. Or else you’re just gonna get on your knees and take care of me. Ask nicely and I’ll help both of us.”

“Please, papí, may I please have it?”

“Have what, angel?”

“Your c—cock,” you whimper out, the tail of the word trembling out when Javier’s fingers hook under the center of your panties and tease at your dripping entrance.

“There’s my good girl. How could I say no to you bein’ so sweet for me? Think I need to get you ready before I give you my cock, though, Bebita.”

With a sigh, your mouth opens and you reach one hand to grip Javi’s forearm wrapped around you, your other arm stretching out to press your palm against the full length mirror. A dark chuckle slips out of Javi, two thick fingers pushing into your tight walls. In an immediate reaction, a whimper squeezes out of your throat in a yelp. Knuckle deep in your cunt, Javi hooks his fingers to nudge at the spongy spot, extra sensitive. The sensation buckles your knees, Javi catching you with his thigh between yours and his arm flexing tighter around you, tugging you back up while his hand moves faster. Your teeth catch your bottom lip, biting down to silence the noises threatening to expose your activity.

His lips line up against the shell of your ear, brushing lightly against your skin and sending goosebumps across your neck and shoulders, “Bet you’re dying to give me those little noises of yours, angel. How ‘bout just one ‘papí’, Bebita? Jus’ one for me, and I’ll let you come.”

The heel of Javier’s hand rubs the cotton fabric of your panties against your clit, the friction feeling delicious and sending tingles across your nerves to curl your toes. Your head shakes back and forth subtly, enough to be perceptable to the man behind you. The speed of his fingers slows to a stop, pulling out to sit shallowly inside of you without leaving completely. Metallic taste hits your tongue, part of your lip broken from how hard you’ve been biting it to keep everything inside.

“Is that a no, angel? Gonna say no to my lil request?” He questions you, a rough squeeze grips one of your ass cheeks, opening your eyes to meet Javi’s in the reflection, “Answer me.”

An audible swallow slides down your throat before you open your mouth again, bottom lip swollen with it’s split, “I don’t wanna get caught, Javi—”

The last syllable raises in pitch when he sinks his fingers into you fully, a third added effortlessly. They still inside of you, stretching you divinely, but there’s a craving, a fullness that feels like a burning need in the pit of your stomach. You see the game he’s playing, the upper hand he loves to have with you that you give away willingly. With a bend of his fingers, that same spot is getting its desired attention and sending your logic spiraling.

Fuck it. Javier can get an old sheriff buddy to bail you both out if you get arrested.

Reaching one arm behind you, your left still pressed against the mirror for support, your fingers tangle into his hair and tug his head over your shoulder more. Javier rolls a low groan from his throat, the sound ringing in your ear. You turn your head to face him, nose nudging against his while fingers continue to work you up, teetering you on the edge. Open mouths pass warm breaths back and forth, Javier chasing your lips and skin with his, desperate to feel his mouth on yours.

The tightness around his fingers drives his circulation below the waist, straining against the fabric of his slacks. Grinding against your ass as he fucks you with his hand, all he has on his mind is feeling you convulse under his touch, driven so far over that you can’t stand up.

His teeth scrape against the skin at your jaw, a smirk growing subtly on your face — it’s his telltale sign of the height of his desperation.

Leaning your head back further, your lips are much closer to his ear; when the speed of his fingers increases, your own grip his hair tighter and moan, the sound soft and airy but coated in lust.

It’s a spark in his mind, sliding his left hand resting on your right hip across your lower stomach and down your thigh, grabbing it from around the inside and lifting it up. The position change allows his fingers to reach deeper, your head pressing hard back into his chest.

“Oh, fuck yes—“ The noises you want to make die in your throat, mouth hanging open as Javi chuckles darkly against your cheek.

“Say it, baby, tell me what you’re thinking and I’ll let you come. I’ll give you what you really want. Gonna fuck you full of me, Bebita. Isn’t that what you’re aching for?” His words hold you at the edge, toes curled against the wooden floor of the fitting room while your head rolls to the side against him.

Recovering from your dry mouth, you conjure up the first thoughts that pop into your head, the image of him fucking you and the closeness of your release projecting the words from your chest, “Papí, papí — oh my god! Always know how to make me feel so, so good, Papí…God, even your fingers make me f-feel so full. M’gonna—fuck, gonna come, please.”

“Good girl, such a good girl for me. Mi zorrita buena, acaba para mí. Come for me, Bebita.”

Your wall tightens around his three thick fingers, the sound of you moaning catching in your throat as you attempt to hold back. It comes out in a higher pitch, struggling but heard by Javier whose head is still on your shoulder. He’s mumbling to you, kissing the corner of your jaw while his hand comes to a slow stop to guide you through your orgasm. When he pulls his fingers out, he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean while you look behind at him.

A satisfied smirk takes the place of his hand when he pulls them out with a pop, reaching out for you and pulling you back against his chest with a stumble. A delicate kiss is pressed to your bare skin at your back, a shiver running down your spine while one of Javi’s hands finds the swell of your ass and squeezes.

“You want my cock now, Bebita? Bet you do. Want everyone in this fucking store to know you’re mine, right? Want them to hear those sounds that you just can’t hold back, want them to hear you calling me papí, don’t you?” Your eyes flutter shut, mouth falling open as any sort of response flees your mind. Javier stands up straight behind you, quietly fumbling with his belt, the sounds of metal piquing your attention. His button and the drag of his zipper follow shortly, the soft noises of him barely undressing stirring up your stomach.

Between your legs, you feel a rush of arousal when his sigh hits your ears, the same one he always makes when you take his cock out of his pants. Saliva coats your mouth in eager awaiting, shallow breaths attempting to fill your lungs.

Javier surveys you, licking his lips as his hand passes down your spine, gently pressing your forward until both arms catch your weight against the mirror. He traces the new arch in your back before his hand finds your panties, not bothering to take them off again, but pausing for a split second to admire the wet spot you made. His mouth hangs open slightly, bated breath heightening the temperature of the small room. The sight of your cunt dripping for him dries his mouth out, eager to have another taste, but ultimately prioritizing his needs and the higher risk of being caught the more time passes.

Lining his head up with your entrance, he thrusts in slowly, allowing you to feel every inch of him filling you. He sighs deeply while reaching for one of your shoulders for leverage, gripping it with his fingers as he starts a shallow thrust.

Meeting your eyes through the reflection, he chokes out a hushed warning, “Fuck, Bebita, m’not gonna last long. Feel too fucking good.”

You moan softly in response, the mirror fogging up with the puff of hot air that leaves your mouth. Javier turns his attention to where you’re connected, mesmerized by the sight of you taking him easily. When his eyes flick back to your face, your own are closed as you make muffled, sweet sounds of pleasure.

“Open up, angel, want you to look at yourself gettin’ fucked. Look in the mirror, Bebita, and see how pretty you look taking my cock, how much you love fucking in public for everyone to hear.” Javier words have you reaching for a grip against the flat surface of the mirror, nodding with a whine as he gives you slightly deeper thrusts. “Tell me how much you love it, Bebita.”

“Fucking lov-love when you give me your cock, Papí. Love it even more knowin’ someone can hear us, that they’re gonna know m’all yours,” you watch Javi’s face contort with attempted restraint, nodding as one hand drifts to grab at your tits, his strong hold pulling you to stand with your back flush to his chest.

The next few thrusts are audible with how hard he fucks into you, mumbles of Spanish and English spoken into your ear, “Una chica tan sucia. Eres perfecto para mí…(Such a dirty girl. You’re perfect for me…) Wanna jus’ take care of you, Bebita — my babygirl. You’re a good girl, angel. So fucking good. Te sientes bien, como un nuevo comienzo. Mi nuevo comienzo. (You feel good, like a fresh start. My fresh start.) S’like you’re my angel, Bebita. Mine.”

At the last word uttered, Javier moans into your ear, the sound clipping into a hiss as his warm spend fills you up. Your chest is heaving from the exertion of it all, skin burning with those ramblings from Javier.

He’s made it clear how he feels, short of three words.

At the thought, a sharp pain in your chest seizes your lungs, choking out a cough while Javi pulls out of you and fixes your panties. A hand pets your hair, his lips pressing into the crown of your head from behind.

“You alright, Bebita? M’sorry I didn’t last long there. All this shopping got me worked up, I guess. You feel good though? Satisfied, mi Bebita?” He accepts the answer of your nod and softened smile through the mirror, planting one more kiss on your cheek before he unravels from you and gets fully dressed again. “I’ll take the dress up front to pay while you get dressed, okay angel? Then we can go wherever else you wanna go.”

Taking in his affectionate expression, softened brown eyes and one side of his mouth quirked up in a Javi smile, you feel the same pain in your chest, the words of a confession tingling the tip of your tongue. Instead you swallow it back and match his smile, taking the two steps over to him and pulling him in for a chaste kiss.

“So shoes next then?” Javi’s nose nudges against yours before his head tilts back with a slightly defeated laugh.

“Anything you want, Bebita. Told you m’gonna take care of you.”

This time you physically bite your tongue to hold back, wrapping him up in a fleeting, squeezing hug.

“Thank you, Javi.”

Hearing yourself back, you can’t tell if it was meant as permission to let yourself fall, those three words serving as placeholders, or if it was a last ditch effort to sever your feelings for him.

Either way, you still knew you were in trouble.

The flute in your hand is cool to the touch when you pick it up from the entry table in the old university church that was converted into an events space. The gothic details of its once lived purpose catch your attention as you look around, dark, carved wooden fixtures and slate gray stone walls. The carpet is dated, an aged beige that spans most of the room that is filled with people from across the Psychology and Sociology department; large leaded windows line the interior, framed by heavy curtains in burnt orange.

There’s a bar at either end of the room, a handful of high top cocktail tables littered around. Your eyes continue to scan, this time focusing on all of the attendees. Peers, former and current professors, administration, and donors all mingle with each other — there’s a few familiar faces that you send a smile to, continuing your exploration for the one face you’re actually looking for.

Your nerves are tingling like the bubbles popping in your glass, bringing the fragile rim up to your lips for a long sip. Relaxing your shoulders, the first drink of alcohol sitting warm in your stomach. Before you put on a brave face and step forward to go mill about, a low rasp from close behind catches your attention.

“I’ve got some pretty taste in dresses, huh Bebita?”

Javier’s voice sends goosebumps down your spine and across your shoulders; you fight a smile, the corners of your lips turning up slightly as he steps up beside you. After eyeing the glass of whiskey in his hand, your stare grazes along his body.

He’s wearing a gray suit, crisp white button down underneath his open blazer. Your smile grows when you see his olive tie, patterned with stitch-thin white pinstripes. Immediately, your eyes flick up to his face, a knowing smirk and a wink shot your way.

“Nice to see you, Professor Peña,” you say courteously, bringing your glass up to your lips for another sip.

“Having a nice night so far?” he counters, turning his body to face you, closing you off to the rest of the room and filling your view with only his frame. “Lookin’ beautiful tonight, angel. All this for chatting shit with professors.”

“I wear a lot less to chat shit with one of my professors.” You send him back a wink, smirk growing as you hold it back while he laughs and sip at your drink.

“Got me there. But we both know m’not just one of your professors, Bebita.” His fingers grip at his glass of whiskey tighter, lifting it to his mouth before he rasps out, only loud enough for you to hear. “Can’t wait to get you home, gonna rip that fucking dress off of you.”

The words send a rush of warmth down your body, clenching your thighs together where you stand. Javi’s hand grazes your side as he lifts his drink to yours, clicking them together.

“Cheers, Bebita. Gonna be a long night not bein’ able to have my hands on you, but jus’ want you to know I won’t be thinking about anything other than you.” The heat spreads to the back of your neck, your own hand reaching out to brush your fingers against his in a fleeting touch.

“You better go mingle, angel. Go let everyone know that you’re the smartest person in the room,” he whispers to you with a lopsided grin, moving to stand at your side once again.

You shake your head and roll your eyes playfully, swatting a hand at his affection, the smile you’ve been fighting finally lighting up your eyes.

“See you later, Javi. Meet at your truck later?”

“I’ll be there for you, Bebita.”

The room’s temperature has to have risen a few degrees from all the hot air that these academic stuck-ups have been blowing all night. It’s all bullshit, what he finds himself listening to — no one has any experience in the field like he has, most of them lawyers who barely see the inside of a courtroom these days.

As he takes a sip of his second whiskey of the night, his eyes find you across the room. Standing at a table with a small group around it, your back is to him with your face cheated to the side so he can make out your profile. Drinking you in, he notices the body language you’re displaying. Leaning onto the table toward the man next to you, curling yourself in to make yourself smaller, meeker. Your eyelashes are batting, slow blinks that he pictures you doing when he’s between your legs, the image in his mind and the thought of you doing that for someone else kindling a flame of jealousy inside of him.

He studies you two having a conversation, clenching his jaw tighter with every laugh and beaming smile you give to the man.

The guy next to you is dressed similarly to Javier, a navy suit with crisp white shirt, but no tie around his neck — he’s one of those. Must be one of the rich donors based on the crispness of his suit, the starched button-up giving Javier the clue that he regularly gets them serviced at the dry cleaners. He’s clearly older than Javier, gray hair speckled with whites and a few more lines across his face than what Javier has, despite the extreme stress of the last near decade of his life.

You must be keeping him young.

His eyes stay glued to the two of you, the kindling ashes catching into hotter flames when your hand rests on the man’s bicep. This scumbag’s own hand slips around your back, trailing down to the hem that sits in the middle of your back. The twitch of his fingers moving further south propels Javier into action, excusing himself from the small circle he’s standing in to make his way over to you.

He controls his speed, wanting to rush over and clock the man in the face for touching you, for taking advantage of you being a student at the mercy of his generosity.

Instead, he clenches his fist and downs the last of his alcohol, slamming the glass onto a table that he passes by in his path to you.

Saddling up behind the two of you, he smacks on his best charming smile as he clears his throat to interrupt. The man’s hand drops from you, and yours from him, both stepping backward from each other and facing his interruption.

“Evening,” he begins, using your name as he greets you. In your eyes, he can see the widening of them, as if you’re surprised — no, as if you’ve been caught?

Caught for what?

He presses on, desperate to get you away from this creep and into some place where he can hold you. Somewhere private, alone, secluded for the two of you.

“I don’t think we’ve met before, my name’s Javier Peña. Professor in the Sociology department.” Javier reaches out his right hand to the man, his left flicking his open jacket back and resting on his hip as he pops his leg out.

The man shakes his hand as his eyebrows raise, nodding, “Mark Shepherd. It’s great to meet you, Professor Peña. Or is it still Agent?” Mark attempts a light jest, laughing until he sees Javier isn’t.

“Professor’s just fine. Turned in my badge when I retired.” A look over at you and he can see guilt all over your face.

Guilt.

Flirty body language.

Laughing at jokes that couldn’t have been funny — this man is as dry as the desert.

You’re fucking him.

“How’re liking the university so far? Enjoying the new building? Hopefully my donation was large enough to get you your own office — I was talking to Dean Banks just a few minutes ago and he brought up how you’re the Big Man on Campus…”

Javier tunes out the rest of what Mark is saying, a full blossoming of his temper boiling him from the inside. He keeps his eyes on you, your own avoiding him while you look around the room.

Why did you lie to him? This whole time he was telling you that it’s only you for him; how could you sit there and hear that and feel all the devotion he has for you — all of the care he’s given you, and not tell him the truth?

He thought it was only him. That you were his, that there was something more growing out of this. He was in so deep, he was starting to forget the circumstances that brought you two together, starting to ignore the balance changes in his account monthly.

Fuck, he was wrong about you.

Interrupting Mark, Javier turns back to him with the same friendly smile, telling him you’re his student in one of his courses, “I’m so sorry, buddy, but do you think I could steal her away for a few minutes? There’s someone I wanted her to meet that I mentioned in a lecture last week.”

Your face contorts with confusion as Mark gestures for the two of you to head off, Javier leading you from behind to weave in and out of the groups in the room all the way to an exit into the corridor. When the doors shut behind him, he takes one look at you before he storms off in the direction of the doors to the small patio attached to the building.

“Fuck me. This is not how I wanted this night to go...” you mumble to yourself, feeling your emotion catch in your throat — a similar feeling to being caught in your mess of lies and omitted information only moments ago.

You were caught out by the last person you wanted to find out that way — the one person who’s feelings you would work to protect everyday, which is why you lied in the first place.

Craving his touch, his arms wrapping you in his strong, solid embrace, you follow after him, hope beating in your chest as you formulate the best possible explanation of it all.

Outside, the winter is biting into the weather, a chill breeze blowing the tendrils of Javier’s hair up while he fishes a cigarette from the box in his inside jacket pocket. The same wind is blowing out the flame of his lighter as he attempts to light the small vice in his mouth that will allow him a moment of peace, a moment to think.

“Goddammit,” Javier curses under his breath as he struggles to click his lighter on, the cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. He sighs defeatedly, kicking his shoes against the brick when he hears the creak of the heavy door. Turning over his shoulder, he’s met with the view of you, purse hanging over one shoulder and heels clicking slowly as you approach him.

Without a word, you reach into your purse at your side, fishing out an aged silver Zippo lighter. Your arm outstretched, lifting it to pass it over to him. He takes it from you, your fingers brushing with the lick of a flame. Between his fingers, he can make out faded engravings in the shape of angel wings. His thumb runs over the design, chest constricting with pain before he flicks the lighter open and holds the flame to the end of his cigarette. A long drag relaxes that pain, attempting and failing at calming his still racing heartbeat.

“Javier, I can explain—” you start, but he lifts his hand with the ashing smoke in it, shaking his head as he blows the fumes away from you.

“You don’t have to. I fully understand that while I’ve been completely focused, devoted, loyal to you, you’ve been off with another man. And couldn’t even have the balls to tell me. Every time I asked you out, and you said you were busy, was it him?” He paces for a few strides before leaning against the brick barrier of the stone patio, eyes boring into yours.

“No. No it wasn’t. Sometimes I really was just busy, with my friends or with school. But yeah, I can’t lie now and say that there weren’t times I made up an excuse or avoided telling you a reason I couldn’t see you…” Your weight shifts on your feet, the points of your stiletto heels scraping against the slate. “There—there’s a couple others besides him.”

Javier’s eyes widen, a crackling inhale of his cigarette pulling smoke into his lungs before he speaks again, “A couple? How many other people are you seeing?”

His voice has a sharp edge to it, patience wearing thin while jealousy and embarrassment root in his stomach. Your face cringes at the harshness of him speaking, intertwining your fingers together and squeezing hard.

“I have three clients besides you. Most of them have been for a few months longer than when I started seeing you…” Your throat clears and your shoulders roll forward, shrinking your usual confidence around him. “I thought you would have…I don’t know I thought you would have known what this was like for me. It’s my job, Javi. With those other guys, it’s still just my job and when I see them, it genuinely feels like work. But—”

He cuts you off again, kicking off the wall and starting his pacing again. “But what, angel? You just told me everything I needed to know. I’m a job to you, just work. That’s fine, we can draw that line here and now. I won’t do anything more for you unless you ask, treat me like everyone else. But forgive me for thinking there was something else there with us.”

Venom in his words hits you with a punch to your gut, this side of Javier one you haven’t been privy to. He’s cold where he normally holds his warmth toward you — his eyes, his dimple, the flex of his arms when he holds you, withdrawn from his normal attachment to you, always a hand kept on you when you’re together and a tab kept on you when you’re apart, stiff where he’s normally malleable, forming to your opposite, complimenting you completely.

This feels like the Javier you would have met a year ago in Colombia, guard up and emotions naught.

Anger blooms in his chest, feeling his insides turn a dark, dampened forest green with envy. Flicking the burnt out cigarette to the ground, he stomps it before walking away from you, cold shoulder freezing you out while he heads back inside.

You were supposed to be his. His Bebita, his angel. He doesn’t own you, no, but he wanted to feel chosen by you. And all of this, the fact that this whole time there have been other people that you see the same as him, he knows he was never the only choice.

“Javier, stop—” you plead with him while your arm grabs his bicep, his step faltering for a moment before he recovers and removes his arm from your grip. In the low light from the warm, yellow lamps at all corners of the patio, he can see the glistening veil over your eyes. The corners of your mouth are downturned, the bottom lip jutting out in that normally irresistible pout.

“Don’t. Don’t pull that shit, you knew what you were doing. I—I think you should get a different ride home tonight.”

Without another breath in your direction, his heavy footsteps carry him inside, leaving you with a chill across your skin that is no match for the iciness of his behavior. A piece of your heart breaking like a crack in a glass, delicately, finely, but one more more and it shatters completely.

He said he was going to be there for you. Yet here he is, leaving you when you want him—need him the most.

Javier strides up to the bar, ordering a double whiskey neat. Once the crystal glass is set in front of him, it’s a blink of an eye before it’s set back down completely empty. His eyes comb the room, a glimpse of you getting caught by a professor, skin burning as jealousy boils inside of him.

Is he one of your clients? Or are you only friendly with him? Was the babysitting story with Professor Quinn bullshit? Were you with him at one point too?

Was anything real with you? Maybe he was naive to assume you were feeling all the same things he was, that this was anything more than a job. The line was blurred for him from the start, infatuation snowballing into something more — he’s in love with you.

And now he knows he’s just a job to you.

Doubt worms its way into his thoughts, anger blossoming at the thought that he was vulnerable, careful, open with you. For the first time in years, he’s let his guard down, fully falling into the comfort of your affections and completely forgetting the way you two were brought together, and now he’s getting burned. All he can remember is the few times before, long before Colombia, when he had the same feeling; tightness in his chest, shallow breathing, sweating at the nape of his neck.

Pressing his palm into his chest to find any type of relief, he feels the rapid beating of his heart. His eyes glue to you, watching your interactions and feeling suddenly desperate for fresh air. Clicks of his dress shoes echo when he finds himself in the marble-tiled lobby, stretching his lungs with every breath with a furrowed brow and thoughts racing in circles.

Muscle memory leads him to his car, folding over and supporting himself with arms outstretched against the hood. Closing his eyes, he focuses on his breath, slowing himself down to deepen them. As he tries to clear his mind of all his doubtful thoughts, the image he conjures is of you, bare under the sheets the morning after that time in your apartment.

Breezy, dawn light coated the side of your face while the two of you talked in whispers, as if any louder would ruin the peace. At one thing he said, he can’t even remember now, you rolled onto your back, the sound of your laughter echoing in his ears as he saw the beaming smile of yours.

That was when it solidified in his mind, his care and affection and desire rolling into the one word that encapsulates it all — love.

The pressure of a hand on his shoulder makes him jump, smudging the image to nothing as he turns to face whoever is interrupting him.

Your eyes meet his, his brow returning to its furrowed state while his eyes round with softness. The sight of him, the emotion painted on his face, tears into your heart, but you tell yourself you have to stand your ground, to tell him all that you couldn’t when he rushed back inside.

“Javi—” your voice trails off when he interrupts you.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Javi clips at you, index finger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose when you scoff.

“Who died and made you king? You’re not the sole-decider, Javier, and after all the shit you just said to me, I think I deserve a second to speak to you,” your voice is steady despite the emotion crawling up your throat, tears burning in your waterline as you look at him in front of you, “It’s not fair for you to get angry at me. When I’m with those other men, I’m doing my job. It feels like work, and it is for me. I need the money, Javier, or else I’d have to drop out of school and still be responsible for my student loans. I’m doing what I was hired to do, the same thing you signed up for, so I don’t need the shit from you.”

Standing up straight from leaning against his car, he chuckles mockingly and shakes his head before countering, “You know, I thought when I was signing up, I would have someone just for me. Didn’t expect to get someone for everyone.”

The tears burning at your waterline fill your view, blurring him standing in front of you until they start to fall in quick succession. Inside of your throat feels raw, swallowing hard and wiping the streams across your face. Mascara is definitely running down your cheeks, and your nose is sniffling while you press your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep your sobs at bay.

He doesn’t deserve to see you so hurt. He doesn’t get to know how you really feel about him, not anymore. You made a mistake trusting him, crossing the line, and getting too attached.

Another swallow pops in your ears, mustering as much volume as you can without completely breaking, “I really thought you were different, but I guess not. Now I know what you really think about me.”

You shift your weight in your heels, looking at Javi once more, stoicism on high and the emotion you saw before completely void. Anger is strong across his face, with the brief reprieve of gentle care when a small sob slips out. Turning around to walk back inside and collect yourself, the sound of Javi’s rasp stopping you in your tracks.

Javier hears what he said played back in his head, the sight of your tears constricting his throat. With a dry mouth, he stutters out an attempt to back track, “Wait, wait—I didn’t—Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that, Bebita.”

You flinch, the name that normally sends warmth spreading across your chest now feeling like a dagger in your heart.

Facing him again, you cross your arms over your chest as your temper engulfs your emotion for a moment, spitting your response to Javier’s acrimony. “Don’t call me that,” you snap, eyes stinging as you look at him and watch his face fall from your words. “How did you mean it, Javi? Did you mean for it to have me begging for forgiveness, begging you to accept me even though I’m such used merchandise? Well, newsflash, Javier, but this was my job before you came around and screwed with my head. How can you say that shit when you tell me how much you care?”

He takes one step forward, and you take two back, shaking your head at his advance. His eyes round with softness again, tense brow shifting into a sorrowful one. Mumbling under his breath, he runs a hand through his hair before he looks at you. The need to win, to be right, to be justified in the end has him speaking before thinking yet again, “I didn’t know this is what I was getting into exactly. I thought you were with one person at a time, that all of your experiences were from the past, like, year not the past few weeks. I told you that I was only with you — you had plenty of opportunities to let me know about all the other jobs you’ve been doing. Were you telling them all the same shit? How many have you had over? Or stayed over at their place? Was I really just some fucking job, a shift you scheduled every week?”

“Fuck you, Javier. Fuck you. Forget about this, about me, I’ll tell the company to cancel your payments and refund you. Don’t fucking call me, don’t pull me after class. We’re done.”

Finally turning around again, Javier is silent as he watches you walk away, shoulders slumped forward with your arms crossed. Part of him is begging to go after you, to make it alright, to fix it for you. The other part is keeping his feet planted where he’s at, staunch in his anger toward you, toward the situation.

At the sound of the heavy building door shutting behind you, he runs his palm over his face before sighing deeply and getting into his car. He feels something in his pocket, fishing it out and confronted with the lighter you handed to him. His thumb runs over the engraving again, tracing the worn lines of the angel wings in the metal body of the Zippo.

He’s on his way down, falling from the heaven — the haven — you created for him into the familiar abyss of hell.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year

Text

Unexpected 26

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Lloyd rarely surprises you anymore but that night, you admit, you are. He leaves you be. You just can't decide if it's because he actually listened or for some other Lloyd reason.

You hear Dottie and Harlan come home and try not to hear what comes after. You sleep as well as you can through the persistent ache in your hip bones. You hug the pillow between your legs, finding your comfort with a blanket under your belly. Adjusting to your body is the hardest part, you were never very comfortable in it to begin with.

You get up before nine. You never really slept in. Well, before you were working night shifts and going to sleep at this time. Those years really did a number on you.

You dress and hobble downstairs, yawning as the scent of cinnamon leads you into the kitchen. Dottie is there at the stove, chiming at your entry with "good morning" to rival any songbird.

"Hi," you go to the fridge, mourning your ritual of a hot coffee and opting instead for some mango orange juice. "How was your night?"

"Ah, ya know, Harlan's all tired out," she giggles, "but I should ask ya, dear, about yours."

"Mm, it was a night," you shrug as you pour yourself a glass, "what are you making? It smells so good."

"My famous cinnamon donuts," she announces proudly, "little Marion was the biggest fan, back when he wasn't so stingy on sugar."

"Ah," you take a sip of the tangy juice.

"I can't think the night was mighty successful," she mulls, "not with him leavin' so fast this mornin'."

You put the carton back and grab your glass. You lean against the count and take a large gulp.

"He left," you don't quite make it a question.

"Didn't he say goodbye?"

You keep your face vacant, "probably for the best."

"Work, he said," she offers, "off to make some money for the little one."

"Mm," you chew your lip and think. You peek over at her, "I… hope you don't think-- I worked, you know. More than twenty years and I busted my ass. I didn't… want to quit and not do anything."

"Ah don't you worry, sweetheart, I ain't judgin'. He just wants to take care of ya and the kiddo. I don't think nothin' bout it." She shakes her head and chuckles, "ask Marion, he'll tell ya I never worked a day in my life, not outside chasin' after him but let me tell ya a secret," she turns the dough in the oil, "I would get my money at night. Where we live, you make a killin' with that phone sex stuff. All them horny old men."

"Dot," you gasp.

"Oh, Harlan knew, he thought it was so funny, ya know? I'd tell him when one of the fellas he worked with would call," she cackles, "got a good laugh."

"Money is money," you say.

"Damn right, talkin' up them old pervs got my boy into Harvard," she smirks, "that's the thing about men. That one part of em is always the easiest to talk to."

"Uh huh," you step away and rest your hand on your stomach, "god, I can't stop peeing." You put your cup down hastily as your bladder squeezes.

"Ah, I don't miss that," she calls after you, "baby boy used to line dance on my bladder."

You close yourself into the bathroom and struggle to get your leggings down. You sit and sigh, letting the pressure drain and the news sink in. Maybe he took a few words to heart or maybe you're giving him too much credit. Either way, he's gone and you can breathe.

💎

"It's all comin' together," Dottie says as Harlan pushes the crip against the wall, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his head.

"Yes, looks good," you agree, "I like the bunnies. Good choice."

"Oh, I almost forgot," Dottie trills and goes over to the white box on the change table, "Harlan picked this one out. Hun, don't forget to hang it."

She opens the flaps and Harlan nears her. She lifts out the large orb, a fascimile moon, and turns to him. They're cute together, you won't ever have that.

He takes it and hangs it from the hook over the crib. He smiles up at it, "I always liked to watch the moon, ya know?"

"Lights up and everything," Dottie explains, "all different colours for the baby."

You stare at it. This baby if anything will be spoiled. You'll have to be the bad guy. The one who moderates. The one who says no when everyone else says yes.

Like everyone else you've ever known, this child will hate you.

You feel your chest caving in at the thought. You can never be what this baby needs. You've never been enough for anyone. A girl, too.

What a curse. To be a girl in this world. With a father like him and a mother like you.

"I… it's beautiful," you're not lying and the crack in your voice startles even you. But it's not the sentimentality that it seems, it's absolute and consuming terror. "I'm sorry, I need to lay down."

"You feel alright?" Harlan asks with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just… tired."

"Well, you take it easy, darling," he girds.

"You let us know if ya need anything, honeybun," Dottie says.

"Of course, uh," you swallow tightly, "thank you. Both."

"It's nothin'," Dottie insists.

"No, really, thank you for being so… kind."

"Well, honey, you're our daughter as much as Marion's our boy," she smiles, "don't you forget that now."

You leave them and go back to the bedroom. You climb into bed and cocoon yourself in the blankets. You hate it. You hate how hot, how sharp every emotion is.

All this baby stuff makes you wonder and worry. You don't imagine your parents were ever that excited for you. They never beamed over your crip or delighted in choose cute stuffies or the perfect pacifier.

You are unwanted. Unexpected and unloved.

You didn't of that shit. Not for years. So why now?

You can be better than that. You have to be. You can't live with the idea you might pass on all this insecurity.

You sniffle and dab your eyes before they can prick. You blow out between your lips and lay flat. Big mistake.

You grunt as you sit up. As much as you'd love to sleep it into oblivion, you're restless. You hate the fact that Lloyd's unannounced absence has you on edge. He'll be back and not knowing when is worse than having him around.

There's a gentle tapping on the door. You try to shake off your nerves and you clear your throat.

"Yes?"

"Uh, don't mean to bother none, but… we didn't get to that finale… that lil snake eyed boy got me curious," Harlan says from the other side.

You can't help but smile. You never would've guessed his interest in trashy reality TV.

"Come in," you reach for your phone.

He opens the door slowly, inching inside, "you sure, kid?"

"Kid? No one's called me that in ages," you chuckle, "yeah, I'm ready to see it all go up in flames."

He has a tablet in hand and comes around the other side of the bed, "may I?"

"Sit, sit," you pat the mattress.

He's got the episode queued up and you help prop it between you with a pillow. He sits back with arms crossed and you hit play, the recap rolling at once.

You're quiet as the narrator goes through the most dramatic scenes of the season. You glance at Harlan from the corner of your eye. You never had this, never had a dad who wanted to do anything with you. Nothing aside from holding a wrench as he ignored you.

"Why are you so nice?" You ask at last.

He shifts and looks at you, "why don't you think you deserve that?"

You scoff and shake your head, "you don't know me."

"I know you're too good for my son, and I'm gonna let him know that. Again. Maybe this time, he'll hear me," he reaches over, gently taking your hand, "I'm still young enough to kick his ass."

You grin and feel the tension seep from you. You relax and lean against his shoulder, turning to watch the screen. He squeezes your hand as he rests his head against yours.

It’s peace. For now.

#lloyd hansen x reader #dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #series #unexpected #the gray man

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mousy-nona · 3 months

Note

Prompt: Lute changed her name into Astarte/Astaroth.

Humans asked silly questions all the time. Why am I on this Earth? Who created me? What purpose, they asked, do I serve?

Lute never had to ask those questions, because she knew all the answers already. She knew for whom she was created. She knew the why. She knew the what. She knew her purpose.

She was the right hand of Adam, the sword and shield to his heart. Since the day he had formed her from the clay of the earth and the clouds of the sky and a sprinkle of the Almighty’s grace, she had been by his side. It was Adam who made her laugh until her stomach hurt by shoving twenty – count ‘em, twenty! – french fries up his nose. It was Adam who had made her cry when he’d disappeared for three days (on a tour of drugs and debauchery, she later found out, which made her feel rather silly about the whole thing). It was Adam who had shown her how good a hug felt, Adam who taught her what it meant for the heart to skip, to beat.

They had shared a billion moments, a trillion words – an eternity of memories.

She had thought she had another trillion more.

But now, as she held him in her arms and his golden lifeblood spilled into her lap, as that trickster gleam faded from his eyes and his body grew impossibly still, she found herself asking her own questions. The one humans never have to ask.

What happens after your Creator dies?

Lute had served a purpose. She had been created for a reason. But those (damneddirtyevil) dead humans had stolen it from her.

As she carried Adam’s body back to Heaven (she would never let those damned demons have him, never), she resolved that the tears she spilled that day would be her last. Lute was dead. She was buried with Adam – because without Adam, there could be no Lute. Sine qua non.

She needed a new name. A new identity.

What good fortune, then, that she knew exactly where to get one. Her skin prickled as she crossed the barrier between Heaven and Hell, as if it was shedding the angel she had once been.

Good, she thought. All the better to wear a demon’s skin.

She touched down in front of a long abandoned castle, his pentagram seal long since worn by the harsh winds. The devil that had lived here had been one of the original Fallen; he had commanded 40 legions and been a crowned Great Duke of Hell.

Adam had killed him centuries ago for calling him “a bitchy fratboy.”

She picked up his bent crown and fallen staff, shaped like a serpent mid-strike. She dusted off the crown, placed it on her own head. It fit perfectly, as if she’d been meant for damnation all along.

She had picked him for two reasons. First, she would need all 40 of his legions (and then some) for what she had planned next. She would need the fear that his name inspired.

Second, the castle had been strategically built on a hill – with a truly to-die-for view of that wretched hotel.

Revenge was her middle name, but her first…

They would call her Ishtar. They would call her Inanna. They would call her Astarte.

They would call her Astaroth, and all would fall on their knees before her.

Starting with that fucking housekeeper.

#hazbin hotel #lute #lute is on the warpath #hazbin hotel adam #guitarspear #lute character study #i REALLY enjoyed this!! lute is super interesting and always interesting to paint adam in a good light #it's different from the usual radioapple but different is nice!

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 1 year

Text

Plain Sight

Summary: The reader notices a man following her one night at a bar. Things escalate when she finds a green eyed stranger in her home but he might not be what he seems at first glance...

Pairing: Stalker!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,800ish

Warnings: language, stalking, kidnapping, angst, fluff

A/N: Go with me on this one, I promise ;)

______

“Y/N,” said Emily from behind the bar. You were halfway to sliding off your barstool when she caught your wrist. “Dylan’s gonna walk you to car.”

Your head turned and you glanced out the dark window of the bar out to the street.

“Is that guy out there again?” you said quietly.

“Matt said he saw him passing by a few times from his post out front,” she said.

“Thanks, Em,” you said. “I might take a bit of a break from the bar for a bit.”

“You got my number?” she asked and you nodded. “Be safe girl, okay? Call if you need anything.”

“I will,” you said. You gave her a hug and sighed as Dylan walked out from the back with a smile.

“Watch her ass,” said Emily.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you home safe.”

You jumped as you were climbing the stairs of your house twenty minutes later. The back door had unlatched and you could hear it creaking in the wind. You swallowed as you spun around slowly, breath catching in your throat when you saw the man with the short brown hair and green eyes standing on the landing.

You chucked your purse at him and tried running but he grabbed your ankle and dragged you back down to the foyer and threw a hand over your mouth.

“Relax,” he said, pinning your wrists together in one hand. He was straddling you and you tried swinging your legs up to try and pull him off but he was sat back just far enough to make that useless. You panted under his hand, trying to break free but he seemed patient enough to let you struggle.

After a moment you stopped and took deep breaths through your nose, the man satisfied with your response.

“Y/N, I’m not gonna hurt you but you need to come with me whether you want to or not. I don’t expect you to believe me and I don’t expect you to not fight back. I don’t expect you to not try and runaway either. But I’m doing this for your own good. Now if I move my hand away and you promise to be quiet, I won’t put tape over your mouth, understand?”

You nodded and he waited a moment before he moved his hand away.

“You gonna pretend you’re some kind of undercover cop or something,” you got out as he reached behind himself and pulled out zip ties. Thick ones that wouldn’t break like the ones in your self-defense class.

“No. I’m not a cop,” he said as he slipped them over your wrists and tugged them taut. “I used to work in sales. I recently took a sabbatical.”

“You’re gonna kill me, you’re gonna-” you said before his hand was over your mouth again. He sighed and reached over to a bag by the door, taking out a roll of tape. You shook your head and he frowned.

“You said you’d be quiet and you’re not being very quiet, Y/N. It won’t stay on long. I gotta get you someplace safe first is all,” he said.

Thirty minutes later you were being carried over a shoulder, kicking your bound feet against the back of his leg, smacking your fists against his chest. He’d pulled into a garage so you had no idea where you were other than the inside of a very nice house. He’d taken the highway at some point so you figured he’d driven to the outskirts of the city. He worked in sales. Maybe he was a big financial guy or something like that.

He nearly dropped you as you went down a flight of stairs to a basement. He opened a door and you looked around, the space finished with a couch and TV in there. There looked to be a bedroom and bathroom at least from your upside down view. He plopped you down in a metal chair and you whimpered when you realized it was bolted down.

“Relax,” he said. He tied your upper body back against it and cut your legs free before securing them each to a leg. When he was satisfied he stood and pulled the tape off.

“I’m gonna kill you the second I get out of this. I know people. Everybody is gonna find me and-” you said before the man put his hand over your mouth again.

“Your best odds were back at the house. We both know that. No one has a fucking clue who I am and you will go missing and the trail will go cold and you will learn that I am on your side. Understand?”

“Put your dick anywhere near me and I’ll bite it off,” you said when he removed his hand.

“I imagine you would. You’re angry right now which is completely understandable. The only time you’ll be in this chair is when you’re a threat to me or yourself. Eventually you’ll understand that I am doing this to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me to protect me. Ah yes, you learn that at serial killer…” you trailed off when he narrowed his eyes.

“I am potentially destroying my own life just so you can live. I would suggest dropping the attitude.”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” you said quietly. He crossed his arms and looked you up and down. “Please let me go. I’ll never say a word to anyone. I promise.”

“I’m sorry but that can’t happen. I’m the bad guy right now so an even worse bad guy doesn’t find you.”

“Please. I-”

“I said you won’t believe me but someday you will and not because of stockholm syndrome or some shit. You’ll do it because you know I’m right. You’ll do it because you know you can trust me.”

“Trust what?” you asked, hoping maybe a softer approach would get you farther.

“The man that’s been stalking you? He’s an actual serial killer. He wants to take you and hurt you and kill you. He is so powerful though you don’t even know. Police aren’t your friends this time, Y/N. The only way to keep you safe from him is to kidnap you myself so even you don’t know where you are. It sounds so much like bullshit. I get it. But it’s the truth. It’s-”

“You have green eyes,” you said as something clicked for you. “Green eyes. Not blue eyes. Green.”

“What does-”

“You work for Sachman & Associates. I fucking met you six months ago at the charity gala,” you said. He dropped his head and you nodded your head. “Who was the man with blue eyes. The big shot. Who was he?”

“Why?” breathed out Dean.

“Because he gave me creepy vibes that night and you noticed. You fucking noticed. Powerful enough to own the police? Blue eyes from the end of a bar I noticed months back? Who the fuck is he and who the fuck are you.”

“I found out a secret about my boss and he wants you. There have been others before you and he was going to make a move very, very soon. So I did a bad thing to stop an innocent woman from getting hurt. There’s no way if I just said this to you randomly you’d believe me. No way. The only way you were safe from him was if you didn’t know where you were, it you’re out of sight. You don’t have to believe me. I will happily go to prison for this after he’s gone but until then you need to stay here whether you want to or not.”

“What’s your name?” you asked.

“Dean Winchester.”

“Dean, untie me.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t trust you not to run off.”

“I’m supposed to trust your crazy story but you can’t trust me to stay here?”

“I didn’t say it was fair,” he said.

“Trust goes both ways,” you said. He stared at you for a good solid minute before he cut your feet free. He undid the rope around your chest and your hands. You stretched out and sighed before you kicked him in the back and ran for the stairs. You got all the way up them and saw a front door before you were tackled in a hallway. “Ow.”

“I knew you were gonna try that,” he said with a pant as he sat back with your arms pinned behind you. You took a deep breath and dropped your head. “Y/N, I’m not fucking around. I-”

“W-Who the fuck is that?” you asked as you stared into a home office. “That picture.”

“My boss. The one that wants to kill you. I-”

“Okay,” you said. You stopped struggling against him and after a moment he released your hands. He stood up and put a hand on your bicep, walking you into the office with him. You stared at the picture on the wall, a whole lot of articles and things taped up around it. “I believe you.”

“Okay that’s a little fast. I mean I’m not trying to make a case against myself but you really should take things with a grain of salt,” said Dean.

“Dean, I know that man. When I was...when I was in college me and my friend got pretty wasted one night and walked back from a party. An older guy offered to give us a ride, said it was safer that way. I got bad vibes from him but she went. I didn’t see her again after that. They never found her. He looked so different but his eyes...see?” you said, pointing at an article. “That’s her. That’s-”

“Please believe me,” he said as he let go of your arm. You looked him in the eye before you punched him in the dick. He groaned and dropped to his knees. “Y/N.”

“You deserved that.”

“Yes, I did,” he said. He sat back on his heels and you crossed your arms.

“I can...forget about the whole kidnapping me thing,” you said. “If you make sure this guy doesn’t find me.”

“We’re isolated out here. You’re safe,” said Dean as he got to his feet. “And you don’t have to do that. I did a fucked up thing. If you want to press charges-”

“Keep me alive and I’ll let it go. Deal?” you said.

“Deal.”

“What was your next step after you grabbed me?” you asked as you looked at the wall.

“I was planning to...you know…” said Dean. You raised an eyebrow and Dean shrugged. “Come on. You want to what, get him arrested? I already told you, he’s buddy buddy with the heads of the police. He’ll get off and probably pin it on me or even you.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad idea. I just think there’s a way to do this so he doesn’t bother anyone and you don’t have to be a murderer.”

“I’ve been thinking of alternates for months and got nothing. I’d love to hear your plan if you have one.”

“You say he’s friends with cops? I bet he’s not friends with federal agents,” you said.

“How the hell would-”

“Dean. Think for a minute buddy. Don’t you think it’s a little odd that I didn’t panic that much?” you asked. He stared at you and shook his head.

“Oh fuck,” he said, wiping his hand over his face. “Fuck me, what’d I do.”

“Kidnapped a US Marshall for starters,” you said with a smile. He groaned and shut his eyes. “Dean, we know exactly who Mr. Paul Jones is. The thing we do need is evidence though.”

“So I kidnapped a Marshall and fucked up your investigation of a serial killer,” said Dean. He sat down in a chair and put his head in hands. “Fuck.”

“I thought a good samaritan offered to assist the lead agent on the case considering he has insider information we could really use. That’s what my report will say.”

He tilted his head up and you smiled.

“I see no reason for you to get in trouble for trying to save a woman’s life. I know bad guys, Dean. You’re not playing for their team, understand?”

“How can I help?” he asked as he got to his feet.

“When you took me, how discrete were you? Did neighbors see? Did you check that Paul wasn’t there?”

“He was at a fundraiser tonight. I saw his work schedule. It’s-” said Dean as the lights went out.

“He saw you and followed you,” you said. “Do you have a gun?”

“I don’t think that’ll help you out now Marshall,” said Paul as he rounded the corner and walked in the room. You frowned and he smiled. “It took a long time to track you down and Dean? You’re not getting that promotion after this.”

“Fuck you.”

“Alright,” he said. He pulled a gun out and aimed in Dean’s direction. The window shattered behind you and Paul dropped lack a sack of bricks, the gun slidng across the room. You dropped down, Dean picking it up with a sigh. He held out a hand and made a motion with his fingers. You got to your feet, Dean pouting as he stared down at Paul.

“I really wanted to see him on trial too,” said Dean. You watched him handle the gun with ease and the power turned back on, some people in black coats walking inside.

“You’re a cop,” you said.

“Undercover one. I didn’t realize we were working your case otherwise we would have ran this up the chain,” he said.

“I’ll let it slide if we get a peak at your evidence. Must have had something good,” you said.

“Yeah, we do. We’ll talk outside.”

“Hey,” said Dean the next morning at the police station. He brought in some coffee and you smiled. “Long night.”

“Yes it has been,” you said. You sipped on the too hot liquid and sat back against the table. “You call Shelby’s parents?”

“Yeah. We got ID’s on the girls,” he said. “He was coming for you last night. There was something off about you we couldn’t figure out. Y/N Smith didn’t exist before the past couple years. We had a working theory you were an apprentice of his or something in exchange for your life. I was never much a fan of that one. I just thought you were on the run from him.”

“Kinda true,” you said. “Sorry for punching you in the nuts.”

“Eh, it’s fine,” he chuckled. “I had suspicions when you didn’t freak out and were trying a few tactical moves to get away from me. Glad they turned out to be right.”

“If there’s ever a next time, you can be the bait, hm?”

“Deal, sweetheart,” he chuckled. You shook hands on it, Dean sitting back against the table with you. “Your boss just had a long chat with me on the phone. He thought I should apply to the Marshall service. He said I’d have no problem getting in.”

“We got a guy retiring in a few months, he’d love a young gun to back fill him,” you said.

“He said it was your call,” said Dean.

“Gonna kidnap me again?”

“Only if I have to,” he smiled.

“Put me as a reference on your application,” you said. “I’ll see you in a few months when you get out of training, Dean.”

“Looking forward to it, sweetheart.”

“Oh and Dean?” you said as you started to leave. “You owe me dinner.”

“Won’t I be your junior partner?”

“Oh yeah. Normally I’d pay and all but I’m normally only a fan of a man pinning me down when I ask him to,” you said. He raised an eyebrow and you winked. “I’ll be senior partner. Doesn’t mean I’m your boss. Just something to keep in mind.”

“Maybe I can come visit some weekend, you know, take you out to that dinner early,” he smirked.

“Anytime, Dean. I’ll see you soon, Winchester.”

“Yes you will, sweetheart.”

_______

#spn #supernatural #dean winchester #dean x reader #au #stalker!dean #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean fanfic #dean winchester fanfic #dean one shot #spn one shot

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imtryingmybeskar · 2 months

Text

Come Home Chapter Twenty Four

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Word count: 4,219

The aftermath of the dam attack.

Warnings for blood, death, violence...and without giving too much away, one very happy Joel.

Come Home

Chapter Twenty Four - Blows Me Away

For a moment you and Joel look at each other in shock, then overwhelming relief melts into his features and he scoots over to you quickly on his knees, embracing you in a one armed bear hug. You wrap your heavy, pain laden arms around him too and squeeze him tight, relief coursing through you until he twitches away from you, hissing in pain.

“What’s wrong?” you ask urgently, pulling back from him.

“Nothin’ that can’t wait,” he replies, his voice pinched and tight. “Fuck…I didn’t realise it was you…Christ, lemmie look at you.” His eyes are soft with concern, his fingers gentle as they tilt your head back and run gently over your definitely bruised neck. “Are you okay?” he asks shakily.

“Bit dazed. I will be though,” you answer shortly, and he nods, trusting that you would tell him if anything was seriously wrong.

He stands and helps you slowly to your feet. Your vision is still a little blurry and you cling on to him as you stand, dizziness coursing through you. In the distance, you hear the rumble of thunder and the room seems to grow even darker before your eyes, the storm that has been brewing all day making its final approach.

“We gotta get back to Maria,” you say in a low voice. “She was in the control room when I left her.” He nods.

“Who else is with you?”

“Three at the gate with the horses. Twelve inside working our way through. No Maydays over the radio so they’re probably okay. Maria told me to break off to take care of this one before he could see that we killed a couple more of them. How many are there?”

“Too many,” Joel growls, frowning his displeasure. “They got what’s left of us holed up in the supervisor’s office. Tommy told ‘em he’s got explosives in there, rigged the place to blow if they try to get in. He doesn’t but it bought us some time. I managed to climb out of a window, tried to take ‘em out sneakily. Got a few but I don’t know how many are left. We gotta get our people outta that room. You okay to keep goin’?” You nod, though your throat feels raw and achey and you’re still a little spaced out from your ordeal. “C’mon, then,” he says, firmly but not unkindly as he takes your hand.

You make your way back upstairs, through the control room and take up your previous hiding place that has now been vacated by Maria and the others. You risk a look around the pallets that disguise you, briefly catching sight of a group of seven raiders in various states of bored lounging outside a heavy looking door. You also catch sight of a flash of familiar blonde hair – Maria has advanced on them again and this time her gun is drawn. You see her sign toward someone out of your line of sight and the message is clear – take them out. Clearly, she is of the same mind as Joel and wants to release your people from where they have been pinned down. You withdraw back behind your protection and take your gun out too, giving Joel a meaningful look as you do. He draws his own weapon – a wicked looking pistol with a scope mounted on top, and his expression is all business as he nods firmly at you.

The first shot rings echoingly through the large room and is swiftly followed by a volley of additional gunfire. Keeping the pallet covering as much of you as you can, you raise your head above the parapet and take aim, shooting one of the men through his shoulder. Bloodspray fans over the concrete wall behind him as he drops his weapon and a second bullet that did you did not fire drops him permanently as it passes through his skull. You duck back behind your cover as a bullet whizzes over your head, smashing through the glass of the control room behind you. Angry and confused bellowing almost drowns out the sound of the gunshots, and you move to aim again to take advantage of their confusion.

“Scatter,” comes the screaming command from their leader below, and the remaining four that you can see do just that, scrambling away from the door they have been protecting and hiding themselves out of sight somewhere under your feet. Your bullet misses, hurtling through the air to plant itself harmlessly somewhere in the wall. If the raiders are moving, you need to too before they stumble upon you, so you grab Joel's arm and tug at him to follow you, hurriedly moving along the exposed parts of the gantry before you can be discovered.

“Am I glad to see you,” Maria whispers fervently as you join her. “Is Tommy-“

“He’s fine,” Joel assures her. “And now those assholes have left that door unprotected I’d say its about time to let our people outta there to take care of 'em.”

For all the initial element of surprise that the invaders had, the battle is short lived. Maria takes out another of their number when you move down to the lower level of the engine room and despite their attempts to snipe at you from behind the turbines, once you release your people from their confinement it’s close to being all over. Tommy’s face is as coldly furious as you have ever seen it as he steps through the door. He claps Joel on the shoulder in thanks and drags Maria into what looks like a bone-crushing hug before moving away with her through the dam, the sound of rapid gunfire following shortly afterward.

As Joel moves to follow them you stop him, grabbing his wrist so he turns to face you instead. The fact that you’re feeling more yourself after your near-death experience in combination with the adrenaline rushing through your body means that your head is much clearer than it was twenty minutes ago. And you have finally noticed the large, red, shiny stain on the sleeve of Joel’s shirt. In the brief breath of space you have in this moment, you need to make sure he’s not seriously injured.

“One sec. You sure you’re okay? That’s a lot of blood.”

“I’m okay. I promise. Nothin’ a bandage won’t fix.”

“Looks like more than a bandage job,” you say dubiously. “Might-“

The shot rings out almost at the exact same moment that you feel yourself savagely shoved aside. A searing, painful heat erupts along your ribs as a second, louder bang comes from alongside you. The wall stops you from falling to the ground as you as you stagger against it, still on your feet but with your knees trembling and your ears ringing madly. A hand on your arm and Joel’s anxious face appears in your line of vision. His mouth is moving but the noise in your ears is still too loud for you to hear him. His hands come to cup your face, his eyes searching yours for something you can’t quite understand. Slowly, so slowly, his voice percolates through.

“-heart, please. Tell me you’re okay.”

“Yeah…yeah. Just…loud.” You feel dazed again and realise you’re not making much sense. Joel’s hands leave your face to come to your side and you bite back a whimper as his palms rub over something which feels raw and tender.

“S’okay,” he says smoothly, and you recognise the tone he uses to calm the horses when they’re skittish. “You’re okay. Bullet grazed you. We’ll get you fixed up.”

“Fix you first,” you counter and he gives a tiny half smile, the first you’ve seen from him since the previous evening.

“We’ll patch each other up,” he promises, “but first we gotta get to the others. C’mon, lemmie help you.” He links your arm through his uninjured one and ensures you’re steady on your feet before walking through the engine room, following the trail of bodies left in the wake of the residents of Jackson.

By the time you reach the sleeping area it appears to already be all over. Dozens of people are standing in the space, their chattering voices raised excitedly over the heavy rain that is now lashing the windows. Tommy is in the midst of it all looking slightly harassed and when he spots Joel he comes over to hug him before releasing him swiftly upon hearing Joel’s noise of pain, much as you had.

“Come on,” he says decisively. “We got medical supplies back here. No one’s too badly hurt thank goodness, but the doc’s still gonna have her hands full when we get back.”

“We got ‘em all?” Joel asks, his voice sounding a little breathless.

“Damn fuckin’ right,” Tommy growls, his eyes flashing menacingly. “And we’ll make sure no one’ll fuckin’ dare try to pull this shit again.”

At his confirmation that the dam was indeed secure once more, Joel sags more heavily against you and you suddenly realise just how badly in pain he must be. You reach the triage area where people are being cleaned, bandaged and generally cared for, and deposit Joel gently on to a chair before fetching some supplies of your own to help him. He tries to faintly protest, vaguely muttering something about taking care of you first, but falls silent again at the stern look you give him.

“Can I say hello to you now?” he asks after a moment of watching you unwrap gauze and bandages, his voice hoarse with pain. Those big brown eyes are looking up at you and how can you ever resist? You lean down to brush your nose over his and place a tender, gentle kiss on his lips.

“Properly once I’ve patched you up,” you say gently, trying very hard not to let him hear how worried you are. You’re not sure if it works because he begins to undo his shirt without another word. The upper sleeve is slashed wide open, revealing his ripped t shirt underneath, and a large bloodstain covers most of the fabric from shoulder to elbow. He peels it away from his skin with a pained grunt and a horrible sticky sound and now you can see the large, jagged gash that runs the length of his tricep. It’s a nasty wound, but not life threatening and you feel the anxiety in your stomach begin to recede again.

“So…what happened, Miller? One of them cut you? Stray bullet?”

Joel looks sheepish. “Actually it was glass from a broken window. I had to dive in to a room in a hurry before one of ‘em could see me.”

“Hurts just the same,” you say matter of factly as you unpack the medkit. “And this is gonna be a bitch too. Sorry.”

“You do what you gotta do. But don’t forget, I’m returnin’ the favour in a minute.”

“I’ll try to be gentle,” you smile.

You quickly but thoroughly wash the wound out with iodine. Joel grunts and grimaces, his teeth bared, but he doesn’t make any kind of fuss. Once you’re done you cover the worst part of the gash with gauze and finally you wrap it up in clean bandages.

“That’ll do till the doc can see you. I think you might need stitches.”

“Lucky me,” he mutters sarcastically as he stands and guides you gently to sit where he has just vacated. “Let’s hope you don’t. Come on, let’s get that shirt off.” He gives you a muted half smile along with his flirting, but you can see the worry in his eyes.

The graze is just that, and you thank the heavens that Joel had spotted your assailant and pushed you out of the path of certain death. It still hurts, more so when he too cleans it out, but you manage to keep your discomfort to some vague grunting noises as he works on you with gentle, deft hands.

“Some first trip back out, huh?” he smiles up at you, his big dark eyes now full of relief now that he too knew you weren’t in any danger.

“Could have gone better,” you agree, absent-mindedly touching over your bruised and sore neck. “But could have gone a hell of a lot worse.”

“True,” he murmurs, leaning forward to capture your lips in a gentle, tender kiss. “I’m just glad you’re here with me.”

Unsurprisingly, Maria decides it would be best to leave additional bodies at the dam for the foreseeable future, and she isn’t short of volunteers. Though the immediate threat has been vanquished and there is a celebratory mood in the air, it is underpinned by a grim determination to not be caught short again, to bear in mind how precious and precarious all that Jackson is. You choose to remain, and are surprised when Joel volunteers too, having been certain he would want to get back to Ellie.

“Are you sure, Joel? You should get that arm seen to-“ you begin, but he cuts through you.

“I’m stayin’,” he says firmly. “The doc can look me over tomorrow. Jus’ check in with Ellie for me will ya?” he requests of Tommy, who nods his acceptance of the task.

While Joel showers you take a patrol with Chloe, who has opted to stay in order to check out the electrics and make sure that no unseen sabotage had occurred during the attack. She gives you a basic crash course in how everything works, her enthusiasm for her profession clear in how eagerly she talks about the subject and not dampened even a little by the pattering rain and thunder that punctuate her explanations. Thankfully, the dam is pretty intact, aside from some damage to doors and windows. While she assists to get everything back online, you help to drag the bodies of the interlopers to a relatively dry and sheltered spot outside of its walls where they are doused with oil and burned to nothing but ash and bone. Afterward you feel even more grimy and sweaty than before and decide that you could do with a shower as well.

When you return to the sleeping quarters Joel is lying on one of the bunks, his fists bunched on his chest, fast asleep and snoring softly. You look down at him for a while, his skin looking more tanned than usual in the stormy evening’s half light, some of his worry lines smoothed away in his relaxed state, his hair once more damp and slicked away from his face. You want to kiss him, stroke his face but you know he can’t have got much, if any, sleep last night and must be exhausted. Instead you take a blessedly lukewarm shower, allowing the tepid water to cool your overheated body and rinsing the grime and sweat and blood from you. As you allow the water to cascade over your skin, you utter words of silent gratitude in your mind. For Joel’s safety. For Jackson. For the continued presence of the dam and those who would protect it. Your mind turns to Chris and you have an odd sense of sad gratitude there too – that her loss enabled you to have all of this, and the tears of relief and sorrow you shed mix with the shower water and flow away.

The bunk next to the one Joel is occupying is vacant, and you begin to prepare it for your own rest. You don’t want to wake him, so you’re as quiet as you can be, but he stirs anyway as you shuffle the bedding and pillows around, cracking one eye open and humming sleepily.

“C’mere,” he husks, his voice low and sleep laden.

“You need rest,” you say softly as you go to him and stroke your hand softly over the greying scruff at his cheek.

“Sleep better with you. C’mere,” he insists again, and when you hesitate for a second longer he takes you by the wrist and drags you in to the tiny space, shuffling backward so his back is against the wall to give you more room in the bed.

You settle in, facing him and he laces his fingers with yours as he rests his hand on your leg. All you can see of him is the darkness of his facial hair standing stark against the relative paleness of his face, and his eyes glittering in the dim light.

“Thought I’d lost you,” he murmurs. “Didn’t even realise it was you at first, only that he wasn’t one of ours. Then when I saw your face…”

He trails off and you move your face closer to his to kiss his nose gently, the warmth of your bodies mingling now in the cool, damp night air.

“Thank you,” you say gratefully. “I didn’t have a chance to say it before.”

“I just wish I’d gotten there sooner,” he replies, his hand now coming to trace over the bruises on your neck again. “I should-“

You cut him off with another kiss. Bruises and cuts would heal. All that mattered was that you were here together, alive and uninfected.

“You should rest,” you repeat softly when you draw back from him again.

“Probably. But havin’ you here after what happened…I just wanna keep talkin’, you know?”

You understood. To have him back when it was entirely possible you could have lost him. You’d forgotten that feeling. You’d been away from the outside too long, even though it had only been a few months. And it was worse now. Far worse that you had something, someone to lose. But now wasn’t the time to talk about that. It was time for him to sleep so that you could ride out as early as possible to Jackson and get him to Doctor Graham. It seemed he was going to be stubborn about it, however. A wicked thought strikes you and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

“What?” he asks suspiciously. “I know that look. You’re up to somethin’.”

“Damn right,” you confirm as you reach up to pull the privacy sheet down over the side of the bunk. “If you won’t sleep, I’m gonna have to make you.”

The sheet has made everything in the tiny space pitch black now and the air suddenly seems a little more stifling. You disentangle your hand from his and stroke your fingers upward until you find the whiskery hair at his cheek again.

“Lie on your back,” you murmur before kissing him tenderly.

“What-“

“Just do it.”

He does, shuffling in an ungainly way until he is supine. You kiss him again before running your hand down his body, this time more firmly and with intent. When you reach his jeans you flip the button open and lower his fly quickly.

“Naughty,” he admonishes softly in the dark, his tone in no way actually disapproving of what you were doing.

“You want me to stop?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he replies and you can hear the smile on his face.

“Good,” you say smoothly before beginning to shuffle yourself down in the bed. Your positioning is not elegant – the tiny space doesn’t allow for much manoeuvring and the graze at your side throbs in protest at your movements – but you manage to wriggle down so you’re kneeling between his legs, your hands wandering up from his thighs to torso, an unseen smirk on your face at the prospect of what you’re about to do.

His t shirt is rucked up, fabric turning to skin just above his belly and you kiss the warmth expanse of flesh on show, feeling the softness of the hair there slowly turn coarser the lower you go. He smells amazing – the harsh chemical tang of the soap he had used softened by his own beautifully warm and masculine scent. You trail your hand down, stroking softly over the growing shape in his boxer briefs, and when you drag your lips down over the fabric he hisses softly in the darkness. You cup him, softly massaging while kissing his clothed cock from root to tip, a few drops of precum making a wet patch that you give a dainty lick to before you begin to free him.

“Wait-“ he whispers urgently.

“Hmmm?”

“You…I mean you’re gonna…”

“If you’ll let me.”

“But there’s…people. Around.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to be quiet, Miller.”

“Fuck” he hisses softly and you feel his hand stroke over your hair. “You sure?”

“Are you?” His cock is finally free and you kiss his tip, the warm stickiness already coating him smearing over your lips, and the stuttering breath he releases tells you all you need to know. You trail down the underside, barely touching him with your lips, Your breath is hot against his skin and you flatten your tongue to lick a wide strip from root to tip, feeling more than hearing his shuddering exhalation as you run it up the prominent vein there. You’d felt him in your hand before, but he seems so much bigger now as you take him in hand and swirl your tongue strongly over his head, savouring the sticky warmth that coats him.

“Been…a long…time,” he breathes raggedly. “I don’t know if I’ll-“

His words abruptly turn to a muted gasp as you slide your mouth down over his length, slowly bobbing lower and lower, testing how far you could take him. It had been a long time for you too and you hope you can make him feel as good as you wanted to. Give him a moment of bliss and relaxation, make his worries ebb away in the pleasure. His head reaches the back of your throat and you force yourself to still, to accept and to swallow around him. His breath comes like it’s been punched out of him, but his hands are still gentle as they stroke softly over your shoulders. You feel his thighs tremble beneath you, can feel the effort it’s taking for him not to buck up to seek more of the warm, wet heat of your mouth. As you begin to pull off him you hollow your cheeks, sucking firmly as you move back to his tip to lap there a little more.

“Good?” you murmur as you plant soft kisses upon him.

“F-fuck,” he breathes. “So good, sweetheart.”

Encouraged by his praise you begin to take him in your mouth again. He is thickening more already, and your hand pumps what you cannot easily take. You don’t know if it’s your own technique, that it’s been a long time for him, or the fact that he’s enjoying the prospect of doing this when there are other people so close, but he’s already starting to lose some of his self-control. His hands are gripping your shoulders a little more tightly and you gaze up at him in the darkness, not able to see much except the hollows of his eyes as they look upon you and of his mouth where it has fallen open.

You slide your unoccupied hand up his torso, brushing your fingers across the soft hair at his belly and his soft skin, now covered by a sheen of perspiration. As you run your nails down he releases a quiet moan and then covers your hand with his, pressing you more firmly against him. You take the hint and rake your nails more insistently and his hips begin to move, setting his desired rhythm that you fall into as you swallow him more deeply. He’s close - his cock swelling in your hand and mouth, his breath now with an edge of dampened moans as he attempts to keep himself quiet, and suddenly all softness is gone as he moves more forcefully, fucking himself into your fist and throat as he pulsates into you. Bitten off curses and half whispers of your name accompany the salty tang of his release as it coats your tongue, and you swallow the beautiful warmth of him down as his body slowly relaxes under you. You hear his head thump back against the pillow above you and take the time to gently suck his softening length, cleaning him of every last drop before kissing your way up his belly again and coming to rest with your head on his chest, his heart pounding wildly against your ear.

“Christ,” he mutters as he kisses the top of your head. “Fuck.”

“You sleepy enough to actually get some rest now?” you tease, your wide smile very evident in your voice.

“Mmmmm,” he rumbles, relaxing further back into the thin mattress and wrapping his arms around you. “I really am.”

“Then rest, Joel,” you whisper tenderly, sliding your hand under his t-shirt to feel his bare skin against yours.

“So good t’me,” he mumbles, his voice slack with impending sleep. “Luh you.”

Your eyes had been closing too, your body overwhelmed by the departure of so much adrenaline from the events of the day and the warm strength and comforting scent of Joel all around you, but at that they shoot open and your body stiffens.

“What did you say?” you whisper into the dark, but your only reply is a soft snoring.

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities @deadhumourist @pedrostories @abbyhaslongshorts @celebrtyskinz @majahu @sanscas @myloveistoolittle @ohthemisssery @harperdoodle @hummelmi @casssiopeia @midgetpottermills @rivierasunsetdiner @starkleila @nunya7394 @mumma-moonchild @thereaperisabitch

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #come home

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gweelczz · 2 months

Text

“Don’t nobody wanna hear that”

Emerald Haywood x black!fem!reader

(might just make this a damn Everybody x reader because that’s where it’s going smh sorry y’all)

Warnings: mentions of swearing (mostly Emerald), Oj and Angel are included, Angel has horrible anxiety and needs a hug desperately, blunt passing, alcohol consumption (reader and Oj, reader is of age), spoilers for movie NOPE, some slight ooc things that don’t go with the movie plot, they all love each other so much

Word count: let that shit ride

Genre: suggestive, mostly fluff, elements of horror (Jean Jacket)

Summary: Jean Jacket is hounding the territory of the Haywood ranch and Emerald is tired of hearing about it, she wishes things could go back to the way they were while Oj is out for revenge. Angel’s nerves are shot and he could really use a hug

“Why can’t we ever just do normal shit without you bringing up t-that thing who took pops!?” Emerald was sat next to Oj trying to focus on her fish sandwich and fries but her knuckle-headed brother was making it hard. Oj sat glancing out of the window halfway in thought halfway tuning his sister out. He understood where she was coming from but as long as that thing was alive he wouldn’t allow himself to rest, not yet at least. There was shit to be done, flying saucer and screaming in the sky or not and he wished his sister understood that. He didn’t want to fight with her but it seemed this situation wasn’t sinking in for her. “Don’t nobody wanna talk about that” she continued glancing at her tray before reaching over to take your hand in hers. You sat across from them next to Angel who had shut out the world traumatized from the events that took place earlier that evening. His mind wouldn’t let him erase the sounds of people screaming in the sky right above the house, the blood oozing down the windows and that cloud that never moved for the past six months. He fiddled with a bracelet you gifted him awhile back after a few months of working at Frys, he did it when his anxiety was getting really bad and he needed to ground himself. You placed a hand on his thigh reassuringly giving it a soft pat, you two share a slight smile before you turned to face Emerald.

She gazed at you visibly relaxing when you smiled softly at her. You two had started dating a few months back before her dad had passed. You had been there for her and Oj helping them with everything they needed. You became like part of the crew growing closer to all of them even helping them with the installation of their cameras alongside Angel. You gently squeezed her hand rubbing your ring clad thumb across the back of it. “Emerald he’s right baby, we gotta kill this thing before we even think about trying to live relatively normal lives again, innocent people are dying.” You gazed at her with a sympathetic smile watching as she deflated and her shoulders dropped. Angel had finished his food last not really having an appetite, placing his hands on the table he sighed gazing between the siblings who were slightly bickering again. “I’m going outside” and without waiting for a response he kissed your cheek silently thanking you for the comfort and hopped over the booth seat making his way out of the door. He definitely needed some space and you’d all grant him that. About twenty minutes had passed and you wanted to check on him, standing to your feet you followed Angel outside the other two heavy on your trail.

“What do you want me to do Oj? Huh? You want me to say I’m sorry? Is that it!?” Emerald lashed out softer than you thought she was outstretching her arms as she stared at her partner in crime since they were kids. He stood undeterred and blank faced. “There’s shit to do Em, I got mouths to feed” his baritone octave shot out from where he stood, soft spoken as usual with strength behind it. Now was not the time to be arguing with her especially when that thing was still alive but she needed to stop blocking it out as if it never happened. Emerald, defeated hung her head before turning away from you three “there’s always shit to do”. Angel who had been silent since they walked outside placed the hood of his jacket over his head before speaking “well I’m assuming you’re crashing at my place… because you can” he mumbled before sharing a look with you and walking off towards the van. You’d be sure to speak with him later. You walked over to Oj placing a hand on his shoulder tossing him a small smile. He’d grew on you when it came to affection usually making a disgusted face but when it came to you three he allowed it in his system just for a little while. “Cowboy is it alright to kiss your cheek?” You softly asked not wanting to ever overwhelm him or push past his limit, but with you three his limit was unlimited.

He tossed you a side eyed glance with a soft “Mhm” before tapping his cheek. You leaned up a bit placing a soft kiss there wiping your lipgloss off afterwards “just give her time cowboy, just give her time”.

———

The ride back was mostly silent considering the tension was so thick you could slice it like butter. You rode in the back with Emerald your hands intertwined with hers while playing in her curls. You shared a few kisses and you squeezed her gently silently reassuring her. Pulling up to Angel’s apartment which was not new to you, you all climbed out walking inside. Angel went straight to his room after telling you guys to make yourselves at home (he definitely was not okay no matter how many times he said it) Oj occupied the spare bedroom opting to give you guys space and himself peace of mind leaving you and Emerald in the living room. You both laid on the couch you on your back and her on top of you tracing patterns onto your skin. A hand in your braids fiddling with the jewels her and Angel helped you place in them. “He’s right but I don’t want to admit it… admitting it makes that thing real and I don’t want my brother hurt. He’s the only thing I have left since pops and if I lose him I’ll lose my fucking mind.” You listened silently as she vented playing in her curls mindlessly, a habit you’d picked up.

You now understand why she was so adamant to leave this place and take you all with her, she was scared, hell you all were but if you knew Oj like you think you did he’d never voice it. Just like he never voiced his grief.. “I know baby, which is why we gotta fight this thing, Oj is brave and he always puts us first.. we need to take care of him for a change. We’re gonna be okay.. all of us.” You spoke softly kissing her cheeks softly moving over to her lips. Her tongue taking purchase in your mouth as the kiss grew heated. Coming up for air breathlessly, emerald placed her forehead against yours chuckling softly “you better stop where you at before I lift up this dress and satisfy my appetite, haven’t had you in days”. “Emerald Monica Haywood this is not your house you are not doing that here!” You whisper yelled rolling your eyes. “If you want I can go get Angel, I’ve seen the way y’all look at each other.. I could film! man that shit would be hot!” She rubbed your thigh while speaking with a smirk drawn on her lips causing you to swat her arm. “Shut up nigga!” “Ion see yo ass denying that shit” emerald smirked wider making you push her off “I’m going to go cuddle Angel dammit”

You could hear her laughing as you both walked towards the back, you to Angel’s room her to Oj’s. Knocking on the cherry wood door you waited patiently for a response. After hearing the soft ‘come in’ you made your way inside immediately noticing how Angel tired to quickly wipe his tears. “Oh AJ” you sighed walking over to his bed in his small cluttered room, band records lay across the floor, a pile of clothes in the corner and his desk area with his desktop so cluttered you could barely see the chair. You sat down beside him gently taking his hands squeezing them softly “tell me what’s wrong, please”. Before he could respond you stopped him already knowing what he would say, “It’s not nothing, you’re not fine and no it’s not childish.. but I won’t push you, you’ve had a rough three to fours days. Your anxiety is shot and you’re terrified to step foot back on that ranch.. you’ve know me for how long? Talk to me AJ”. Angel took a deep breath allowing the tears to fall, he shook his head breathing out a sob. “I-I know this is bigger than me b-but I could be doing more! OJ almost died a-and those screams and t-the blood I’ll never be able to erase that from my mind.. those innocent people died because of a fake cowboy with a god complex and it’s after us next!

I… I can’t stomach the thought of one of you dying and me standing there helplessly and frozen in fear. I care about all of you so much, you all adopted me into the group like one of your own a-and I don’t want to be dead weight or a liability..”. He was full on sobbing now making Emerald and Oj’s ears perk up, making their way across the hall to his room Emerald rapidly knocked. “Is he okay!? Is he hurt!? What’s going on!?” The last thing she wanted was for something to happen to any of you and so hearing Angel full on sobbing frightened the both of them. “Oj you try” she whispered to her brother clutching his arm slightly tugging “Angs can we come in? We just want to make sure you’re okay… we’ll sit out here if it’s too much”. Angel gazed at you nodding his head through tears, he was so inconsolable he couldn’t speak.

He didn’t want space between them he wanted all of them close to him that way he could see they were alright. He was sobbing into your chest as you spoke through the door on his behalf, “come on in guys”. Emerald hesitated not wanting to overwhelm him with too many people, she glanced at OJ who was already looking at her. They spoke with no words. “Are you sure? We don’t want to make it worse”, there was a pause before they heard you speak again “he wants you guys in here too” and that’s all Emerald needed to hear before she was opening the door and heading inside OJ in tow. OJ closed the door behind him while Emerald sat on the bed gazing at Angel who had stopped sobbing but was still shedding tears. OJ sat beside her gazing at everyone silently. “Angel it’s alright we’re all here in one piece see?” Emerald thumped the back of OJ’s head jokingly hoping to earn at least a small smile from the other. “And you’re still here with us” Oj glared at Emerald nudging her shoulder with his elbow “get away from me” he mumbled rolling his eyes which caused Angel to crack a small smile.

You rubbed his back in soft circles smiling as well at the other’s antics. Emerald beamed in triumph placing an arm around Oj’s shoulders which he allowed for now before speaking. “Thanks for saving my ass out there A, if you hadn’t been there I would’ve walked out of the house and who knows what would’ve happened to me. You’re a brave son of a bitch with quick ass thinking” Angel smiled a bit nodding his head “All I did was grab a knife and take shelter but I’m glad I saved you and thank you for calling me brave… it means a lot to me”. Emerald shook her head placing a hand onto his leg “you’re braver than me! The first night here when we found out about it I was ready to dip, but grumpy over here wouldn’t leave with me” OJ rolled his eyes slightly nudging her once again “got mouths to feed”. She rolled her eyes this time thumping his head again “yeah yeah yeah, well now you only have four and three of us can feed ourselves!” They began to bicker again causing you and Angel to laugh. Yeah, you guys were gonna be alright.

#letitia wright #mo washington #letitia wright surrounded #shuri udaku #oj haywood #emerald haywood #emerald haywood x reader #angel torres x black!reader #oj haywood x black reader #angel torres #nope film #nope movie #nope 2022 #nope

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Note

*blurts out immediate thoughts* CHRISTMAS COOKIES WITH FRANKIE

pairing: frankie morales x gn!reader

rating: M (18+ only, no explicit smut but super horny so minors DNI)

word count: <500

a/n: YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND BABES!! 🥹🫶🏼

“Stop!” Your command was spoken through laughter, swatting Frankie’s stomach as he lifted the icing bag to his tongue, squeezing a dollop of the green icing into his mouth with a mischievous grin. “You’re worse than a kid.”

“Tastes good,” he justified, bringing the icing over to your mouth so that you could have a taste. You stole the bag back from him and gave him a playful glare, warning him to behave. “You know you’re the decorator and I’m the taste-tester.”

“Well, this year I was hoping I’d get to see a bit of your artistic genius,” you bumped your hip into his as you returned to decorating the cookies lined up on the counter. Frankie moved behind you and hugged your waist, propping his chin up on your shoulder.

“I assure you, bebè, you’re the only genius in this household.” His lips found the exposed skin of your neck, his beard tickling you as he placed a few sultry kisses to your pulse. Your hands shook as you tried to outline the snowman in front of you in white, the line going wonky due to his sensual touches.

“You’re distracting me.”

Frankie chuckled and nodded, his hands lowering to your hips to pull you back against him. His voice was a raspy whisper as he spoke directly into your ear, “Let’s take a break…come back to the cookies later.”

“A break, huh?” You chuckled, trying to focus on the cookie in front of you rather than the bulge growing in his pants. “What will this break entail, hm?”

“Less clothes,” he responded, earning a click of your tongue. “Or we can keep our clothes on. I’ve fucked you fully dressed before, I can do it again.”

“Francisco Morales!” you laughed as you scolded him, Frankie chuckling into your ear as he nipped at your earlobe. “These cookies need to be finished by tonight. I don’t wanna show up at your parent’s house empty handed.”

“We’ll finish ‘em, baby. I promise I can work quick.” You tilted your head back to rest against his shoulder, his kisses moving to your cheek. “C’mon, you know you want to.”

“You’re relentless,” you giggled as you put the icing bag down and spun around in his arms, Frankie sandwiching you between his body and the counter. “Twenty minutes.”

“Oh, that’s plenty of time, bebita,” he winked, tapping your hip. “Race you to the bedroom?”

“First one there cums first,” you announced right before bolting off down the hall, Frankie close behind you the entire way but purposely allowing you to win, his grin wide as you crossed the threshold to the room. “You let me win on purpose.”

“Damn right I did, now go ahead and strip for me. It’s time for me to pay up.”

taglist: @joelmillerscoffee @ajeff855 @wildemaven @axshadows @sherala007 @browneyes-issac @tooflef @tae27 @kimm4710 @stxrrylunatic @sara-alonso @paulalikestuff @jbh-castaway @oceandolores @mandomover @chxpsi @auberosier @mashomasho @vanemando15 @wickedmunson @marvel-sw-lover @jediknight122 @harriedandharassed @star-wars-fan-2005 @alwaysdjarin @jalobro @trickstersp8 @mccn-bcys @manuymesut @trinkets01 @tanzthompson @jlmaddinson @hopeamarsu @fanofverymanythings @lovesbiggerthanpride @pinkything @fireproofmarta @littlenosoul @laureliciousdefinition @alwayslurkinginthebackground @lexloon @toomanystoriessolittletime (please let me know if you’d like to be removed/added to future frankie content!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x y/n #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fluff #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #gmno drabbles

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bluestar22x · 4 months

Text

Chapter 8

Baby Fever - Chapter 8

Series Summary: It all started with a classic case of baby fever

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!(Wife)Reader

Rating: 18+ Series

Warnings: Slight angst/anxiety, some fowl language, plenty of fluff

Word Count: 2,000 (ish)

Author's Note: This one took a lot of pondering to figure out what to write, but it came to me all at once so I got this typed up pretty fast. It's another slightly angsty but later fluffy chapter.

xxx

You'd never been big on parties, at least not ones centered around you. Even as a child, you'd found yourself blushing when your family sang you happy birthday or when they made a big deal out of your graduations (8th grade, high school, and college). You weren't a super shy person, but you didn't like being the center of attention when in a large group.

It wasn't any different with your baby shower. If anything it was worst. At twenty-eight weeks pregnant, the beginning of your third trimester, you were starting to feel huge, and that day you were feeling particularly achy and moody. You loved your family, but you spent most of the party grinning and baring it, putting on a show for their sakes.

It didn't help your mother and sister had surprised you with it, only telling Marcus to bring you and drop you off at your mother's house at nine in the morning on that day. If you'd had a say you'd have made it so everyone could be there, including Marcus, but since your mom had taken a large roll in the planning of it the celebration was traditional in every sense of the word - meaning no boys allowed.

Normally you wouldn't have been too bothered by being separated from Marcus for a few hours, you still worked full time after all, but the mood swings you'd been having recently meant that sometimes you were really clingy to him, and that was the feeling you had that day. You just wanted to go home and curl up in his arms.

On top of that, getting baby gifts from your family really brought home that you were just a few months away from having your baby, already. Despite the roller coaster ride that your pregnancy had been at times, it had flown by, and you felt overwhelmed by how much you still had left to do before the baby arrived.

You'd survived your baby shower, but by the time your aunts and cousins left you were exhausted and more than a little anxious to get home.

Your sister offered to bring you home after your last aunt left at three, and helped you load your parents' car up with all the gifts you'd gotten. Once everything was packed in you shared a final hug with your mom who told you, knowingly, to get some rest.

"When are you going back home?" you asked your sister on the way out of your parents' driveway.

"I'm going to be on an early flight tomorrow morning," Emily replied.

"How's Aaron doing alone with Henry?"

Emily had come to Washington D.C. without her little family this time.

"Henry just started potty training so I can imagine it's been an interesting couple of days," she said with a chuckle, "But Aaron's been an amazing dad so I don't think I'll be walking into a horror show when I get back, hopefully."

"Was it hard leaving Henry for two days?" you inquired curiously.

She sighed. "More than you could imagine. He's growing up so fast. I'm afraid when I get back I'll find a teenager in my house."

You snorted. "That's a little dramatic, Em. But I think I can kind of relate on that part. It feels like just weeks ago, not months, that I found out I was pregnant."

"How are you feeling about that?" she quizzed. "You seemed kind of off today."

It was your turn to sigh. "I'm just in a mood today, and you know how much I love parties -"

"Sorry -"

"It's okay," you assured her. "I appreciate you and mom throwing it for me. I promise, I do. And the gifts will really help out. There's so much to buy for a new baby, you know that, and now I can cross off like ninety-nine percent of the items off my list. It'll be less stressful in the long run."

"The thing is, it reminded me how close I am to being a mother and how I don't feel as prepared as I thought I'd feel by now," you admitted.

"Oh, sis," Emily said with a sympathetic tone, "They say no one's ready for a reason. You can only prepare for parenthood so much. Most of it is learn as you go, especially since each baby is unique. You probably won't understand her at all at the beginning, and that's going to be tiring and stressful, but it gets better, and you will get there."

You curled an arm around the underneath of your swollen belly and nodded, feeling a little better at her honesty. "Thanks, I needed to hear that. There's still a part of me that's going to continue fret about all I need to do before though."

"That's only natural," she told you. "Just remember you aren't alone. Aaron was a big help. I'm sure Marcus has and will be as well. That man's always stuck to your side whenever I see you together; I'm surprised he didn't insist on staying."

You laughed. "Yeah. He's been great. I couldn't ask for a better partner. I never thought a man could be so attentive before him."

Emily smiled warmly. "I'm so happy you found him, sis. Especially since that led to my little niece."

You rubbed your baby bump as a smile also graced your face. "I am too."

Marcus was approaching the car even before your sister had it in park in your driveway, having probably been watching out for it.

He stood by your door as you got out and gave you a peck on the cheek before shutting it behind you.

"Did you enjoy the party?" he questioned.

"It wasn't bad," you answered honestly. "I wish you could've been there though."

"I was banned from entering the house," he told you.

You rolled your eyes. "That's my mother for you." You loved her, but she was a stickler for traditions, whether they were outdated or not.

His eyes registered the stuffed back seat and his eyebrows shot up. "We might need a bigger room for the baby."

You chuckled. "My family has never been stingy on gifts. Especially for babies. I don't think we'll have to buy much. There's some stuff in there I'd never even thought about getting. Never saw them on any of the essentials-to-buy lists online."

"Those are never complete," Emily huffed as she glanced over to you both. "Trust me, you'll need it all."

She made her way to the trunk and started filling her arms with items, handing you some lighter ones as she did so, while Marcus took on the heavier objects. Between the three of you the car was unpacked in fifteen minutes and all the gifts were cluttered in the center of what used to be the spare guest room.

Marcus had been busy while you were at the baby shower evidently, having put a layer of fresh paint on the walls - a lovely shade of yellow you had chosen out with him a week before at the nearest hardware store. It reminded you of the sun at sunrise.

"The paint looks great," you told him after your sister had left to return to your parents' house. "I thought you were going to wait until my dad could help you though?"

"I had nothing else to do today, and I figured hey, I have an art degree, I should be able to paint a few damn walls by myself," he explained.

"In art history," you pointed out with a laugh.

He shrugged. "No matter."

You grinned. "You're right. It doesn't matter. And thank you."

"No need to thank me," he said, pulling you into his embrace and kissing your temple. "I want to do whatever I can for you and the baby, which really isn't all that much. This feels like the least I can do."

"You help more than you think," you told him, resting your head against his expansive shoulder. "But I know how you can contribute more."

He gave you his full attention and you smiled at him before gesturing at the closet. "Get in there and clear it out. We're going to need the storage space."

"So bossy," he teased as he parted from you to follow the order.

"You like that."

"True."

An hour later the nursery's closet had gone from being filled with random items you and Marcus rarely used to being stuffed with baby clothes, toys, and diapers. Lots of diapers.

Most of the stuff he'd taken out you decided could go in the basement, but there was one item you'd insisted you would find space upstairs for - Marcus' old bass guitar.

He'd once been in a band with his college buddies, had played bass and even sang back up vocals a little, but once he'd graduated he had all but retired from playing. He'd played for you a few times while you were dating, but most days it sat around collecting dust.

Despite this, there was no way you were going to have him get rid of it or hide it in an even easier spot to forget about it. You loved that Marcus could play an instrument. Having a boyfriend who was in a band would've been your dream come true as a teen. You were still kinda bummed you hadn't met him back when his band was active.

At least you could still have a private show on occasion.

"Play something for me," you demanded, shoving the instrument at him after the nursery was mostly organized.

He obliged you without any protest, setting up everything he needed to get the bass guitar in working order, and sat down in the rocking chair your mother had gifted you last month.

He began to pluck at the strings with his thick fingers and you leaned against the wall as you listened carefully to the music he was making. The beat sounded familiar and you wanted to take a guess at what song he was covering.

After thirty seconds or so, you were pretty sure you'd figured it out, but you waited until the end of the song to guess, beaming at him as he gently placed the guitar on the floor beside his leg. "Was that Everything Little Thing She Does Is Magic?"

He smiled back up at you. "It is, though I slowed it down a bit."

"The Police," you hummed, stepping towards him. "My man has great tastes."

"That's what you say every time I play," he said with a smirk.

"It's true every time." Marcus was a classics kind of guy, and you were good with that.

Your knees brushed his and he spread his legs so you could stand between them. He met your eyes as you did so, and his hands traveled up your blue maternity jeans to your waist, where he fanned his right one out over your firm swell. He soothed the area then bent forward to kiss the center of it, and your heart soared watching him make the soft gesture. You raked a hand through the hair at the back of his head, basking in the moment.

When he lifted his head again he gently guided you away from him so he could stand and kiss you sweetly on the lips. "I'll go start dinner."

"You don't have to do that," you protested. "You've worked all day."

"You've been busy too," he pointed out before kissing you again, "And you know I like to make a fuss."

That he did, and you were too tired to argue against something that was deeply embedded in his nature.

"Fine, but I'm making tomorrow's meals."

"Deal."

And with that, he led you down the hall to the couch before setting to his cooking task.

It wasn't until he called for you to come eat (pancakes of course) that it occurred to you how fitting the lyrics of the song he'd chosen to play was for him.

xxx

Tagged: @amyispxnk, @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

#Marcus Pike Fanfic (Mine)#X Reader #Baby Fever Series

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ladylooch · 11 months

Note

How was the first time of T and Em after part 4 of “Loving & Leaving”? Where does she finally externalize that she loves him?

Irrevocably with Timo Meier

A/N: ooo baby we gonna go soft for Sunday.

Word Count: 1.5k

I stare up at the ceiling of the bathroom, trying to judge if I am actually done puking or not. Pregnancy has been a ride. Jet lag is also killing me so I’m so tired I probably couldn’t spell my name correctly.

It takes another twenty minutes before I can get into a sitting position without having to death grip the toilet in preparation. I brush my teeth carefully to not hit my tongue or large gag reflex. I set my electric toothbrush back in it’s holder, smiling at Timo’s next to it. This is so couple coded. Matching toothbrushes on the bathroom counter next to the room we share now. I didn’t realize how much this would mean to me until I had a little separation when I went home to pack my stuff to return. I clung to him when he hugged me at baggage claim. I couldn’t let go, not for several minutes.

“Mmm, she finally missed me.” Timo had murmured into my hair with his arms tight around my body.

Despite my sickness, a lazy smile greets my expression in the mirror. I open the bathroom door after turning the light off. I step into the bedroom and practically jump out of my skin at the sight of Timo sitting by the door, on the floor.

“Oh my god.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, reaching for my closest leg to him.

“What are you doing? Why are you up?”

“I uh…” He looks away, licking at his top teeth so his upper lip juts out, then back to me. “I wanted to stay up with you while you were sick. So you wouldn’t be alone.” He is sheepish with his answer. A little unsure at admitting that to me when he knows I don’t want his company in the bathroom.

I pout, mouth opening in slight awe at him. My heart squeezes in my chest at the sweetness of him. I lean down, kissing his lips in earnest as his hand crawls up the back of my thigh. I’ve been back in America for a week and any sort of hope at sex has been taken off the table by my sleepiness and sickness. But his hand on me right now, and the sweetness of his support outside of the door, it does something to me. Timo feels it in my kiss as we deepen it together. He pulls me down to him until I straddle his lap where he is hard against my inner thigh.

“That feels good.” I sigh to him, rutting my folds along him. His hands go to my hips, guiding them to press harder against him. The friction feels so good. Wetness slickness my panties as my nipples harden against my shirt.

“Make love to me.” I whisper into his mouth. My lips nibble his with each word. Timo’s head falls back to the wall to take me in. His blue eyes are wondrous as they travel over my features in the inky room. His hand comes up, brushing my hair back from my face.

“Are you up for that?”

“Yes. Please.” He pauses, eyes trailing all along my face before descending to my stomach. “The baby will be fine.” Timo looks into my eyes then slowly brings my face down to his. This kiss is different. It’s almost torturous, stuffed by so many things he wants to say but things he can only show.

His large palms come to my thighs, lifting us up to a standing position. His steps to the bed are slow, calculated, hands gripping my butt and spreading my cheeks wider as his erection rubs against my heat. He is tender with his movements when he lays me down. Goosebumps protrude all over my skin at the way he touches me. So different, so sensual, so intoxicating still.

Our breathing is heavy, mouthes closed though, as we help each other discard our pajamas. When he strokes his plumped head through my slit, I arch in desperation. A feminine grunt falls from my mouth, teeth pinching my bottom lip. Timo moves over me as he settles himself against my entrance.

“Look at me.” He whispers, building the intimacy as we both focus on each other. He pushes in, watching my lips part as my body swallows his shaft. We both sigh to each other when he is all the way in. He moves out again, leaning down to kiss me when he enters again. It feel so good- sensual and passionate as he begins slow little pumps to encourage my body awake. Timo keeps our faces together, both of us reveling in the way our lips can barely stay together with the noises we’re making. The way his breath dances over my face with each moan has me tugging him deeper.

“I never get over how good this feels with you, T. Only you can love me like this.” He smiles, kissing along my jaw to the shell of my ear. He mouths at my ear lobe, then moans into my ear.

“Baby, you feel so good this morning.” His thrusts begin to increase, but our bodies stay pressed together, front to front, only his hips rocking in and out. “You okay?” He wonders, pulling back to see my face.

“Amazing.” I breathe back, finishing with a moan. He moves towards my chest, kissing along my breasts. He strokes his tongue along my right nipple, encouraging it to harden. The sensation is so much more intense than before and I shamelessly beg him to keep going.

“Don’t stop. So… good… uh.”

Timo takes his time exploring my breasts, kissing, teething and slurping my nipples while steadily pounding into me. I watch him with every movement, appreciating the way he caresses my body. When I get close, he holds himself up with his strong arms, so he can watch my face. He is drunk on love, eyes lowered, biting his bottom lip until he can’t hold back from kissing me again. His tongue steals my final moans before he lets himself go inside of me. He pumps through his orgasm, in smooth, steady strokes as I squeeze his butt. When he has released completely, he breathes out a satisfied sigh.

My body tingles in a new way. I’ve never felt my after glow this intensely before. It might be the pregnancy or it could be the first time making love. What we did on Halloween was nothing as passionate as this. God, I want to go again.

“I love you.” He murmurs to me. I pause, eyes wide at how easily he says it. Like it’s a constant thought running through his mind throughout each day. “Don’t say it back until you’re ready. I know a lot has been happening, but I want you to know. I meant it in July and I mean it even more now. I love you.” He kisses down my body, going directly to the area below by belly button to smooch our growing child. “And I love you too.” Then he gets up to grab me a glass of water I never asked for, but he knows I need.

I don’t tell him until we are sitting at breakfast hours later, after we fell back asleep in a mess of naked limbs and sticky skin.

Timo is reading through emails with a cup of espresso. I’m sitting next to him, reading my book, while munching on dry Honeycombs. My eyes keep moving away from the pages in front of me to look at him. He is consumed by whatever is on his computer screen. He rubs at his lip absentmindedly with his thumb, then licks across the skin, shaking his head. The corners of my mouth curl up at him, chewing gently on another bite. My fingers let the pages of my book close. I move them to his thigh, then up to his forearm to grip his wrist.

“I love you.” I say when his eyes meet mine. He closes them in response, smiling while shutting his laptop. “I, Emma Hischier, love you, Timo Meier.” I say, chuckling at the way he sighs happily.

“Come here.” I stand and he moves me to straddle his lap, pressing our lips together. We kiss lazily, tongues dancing together to stroke another fire deep inside.

“Aren’t you going to say it back?” I wonder, running my hands through the sides of his hair then lacing them together behind his head.

“I said it to you this morning.”

“I know, but I wanna hear it from you again. Like the way it sounds from these lips.” I peck his lips with mine.

“Em, of course, I love you. Irrevocably.” I lean forward, trailing my nose along the edge of his, then tilting my head to kiss him again. It’s a mess of teeth and swollen skin while Timo’s thumbs press gentle strokes into our baby between us.

#TM: Loving & Leaving #Timo Meier #Timo Meier smut #Timo Meier series #New Jersey devils #my writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #NHL writing

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