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reidmania · 6 months ago

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love you like a sailor | spencer reid

summary ; situationship’s, friends with benefits, and no commitment arrangements are great until lines began to blur and feelings become too real. Especially with Spencer.

warnings ; MDNI, mentioning of sex and fingering even tho theres no actual smut. situationship, messy feelings, friends w benefits, reader is avoidant of her feelings, spencer is in love, reader is in denial, mentions of alcoholism but more in a joking way, commitment issues, insecure reader, anxiety, overthinking, talks about relationships ending, talks about death for like a second fem reader. This is ridiculously wrong and i honestly had a horrid headache while writing it so it’s probably crap… angst, fluff, hurt, comfort, this is the whole shabang.

an ; WONT YOU KISSS ME ONNN THE MOUTHH AND LOVEEE ME LIKE A SAILOR. i wanted to write this so bad i couldn’t wait. this is for my avoidant attachment girlies, this is definitely a bit out of character spencer, very self indulgent.. Look at that list of warnings my gosh. this is stupidly wrong and probably not great. BUT ENJOY POOKIES. bc u so kindly encouraged this @parfaitblogs 🎀🎀🎀

"Get some rest." Hotch mutters out as he walks past, your gaze follows him from where you had been sitting cross legged on your desk chair. You and the team had gotten back from a case only a couple of hours ago -- to say it had taken a lot out of you was an understatement.

You were tired but the response left your lips almost instantly as you tilted your head. "Why would I do that when sleep deprivation works so well for me" You hummed out with a soft smile on your face, his head shook as he rolled his eyes. He didn't bother pushing your argument as he made his way towards the elevotor.

It was inching later into the night, a lot of the team had already left to return home to their families, or partners, or even to outings with their friends. You stayed in place at your desk, ignoring the way the arm of the desk chair digged uncomfortably into your knee as your legs remained crossed.

"Sleep deprivation does not work well for you." You jumped slightly as your head tilted up at the voice and feeling of hands on your shoulders, a smile warmed your cheeks. The papers on your desk long forgottened as Spencer's hands brushed gently over your shoulders, down your arms. He had his bag slung over his shoulder, hair out of place from the amount of times he had dragged his hand through it, from you running your fingers through it while he slept on your shoulder on the jet.

"You get grouchy all day, drink an unhealthy amount of cofee until you end up falling asleep on your desk, or on Gacia's beanbag in her layor." He reminded, he bent down to press his lips gently against the top of your head.

Your chest tightened, a playful roll of your eyes and a smile later your pushing the chair away from the desk to twirl it to look at the man standing over you. You could see the tiredness behind his eyes and it made your heart sore in a way that left your stomach uneasy.

Your gaze holds his, "You just catch me at a bad time" You resorted.

He snorted, letting out a soft, 'mhm' along with unconvinced nodding, as his hand reached out for yours. You took it wordlessly, uncrossing your legs as you stood. You didn't need to ask to know what he wanted, he was inviting you home with him.

Your free hand worked to grab your bag off the ground. You eased into the feeling of his hand tighting its hold on yours. His fingers worked to move between yours, interlacing them as the two of you walked in sync to the elevator.

"Take out and doctor who?" He asked, looking at you as he pressed the button for the elevator. You turned your head to look at him cheeks heating more than you wanted to admit when you noticed the gleam in his eye.

This thing. Whatever it was between you and Spencer was overwhelming in the way it had you feeling too much and not enough at the same time. It was a constant game of give and take, push and shove, one step forward and three steps back, it all remained unspoken between the two of you.

"Only if we can get thai from that good place on forth." You revert back to the conversation as your eyes maintain on his. His hand squeezes your gently as the two of you walk into the elevator when the doors opened. His body turned to face yours and you had a familiar feeling building in your stomach.

The feeling you dreaded more and more everytime.

His free hand rose to your face to push away stray hairs from your face. His head leant towards your, foreheads placed against one another and his hand fell from your face to your hip. “We can do whatever you want, angel” He muttered out.

The words made your stomach turn. You couldn’t tell if the feeling was good or bad. You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel when he called you that, it wasn’t the first time either.

They slipped off his tongue as if they belonged there. Easily and simply. Everything was so easy and simple for him, you were almost jealous of it.

The elevator dinged. Moments later you were in his car, his phone in your hand, connect to the aux of his car. You fingers scrolled through the playlist he had made specifically for car rides — or any times he was with you.

It was filled of your favourite songs, songs that reminded him of you, songs that you had sent him saying he should listen to it. It was your playlist.

You settled on a song before closing his phone placing it in the centre console. You placed your hand onto his that rested on your thigh, your thumb, feather touched, running over the prominent veins that cascaded their way down his hand.

His eyes stayed switching between the road and you as you mumbled out lyrics to the song playing through the radio. His eyes danced over the features on your face momentarily, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip when you met his eyes. He offered you a soft smile before returning his focus on the road.

There was a feeling that consumed your entire being. You pushed it down and ignored it to instead enjoy the moment with Spencer. Whatever that meant.

By the time you had gotten food, got to his, and finished eating, it was nearing midnight. The feeling of tire you had only an hour or so ago had subsided completely as watching doctor who ended up with you curled in his lap, head hidden between his neck and shoulder as his hands smoothed the back of your shirt.

You waited for the movement of encouragement, you waited for the hinting signal that he wanted more right now. You were waiting for his lips to trail down your neck or for his hands too low on your back, or too high on your thigh for his touch to remain innocent.

It never came.

His hands stayed soft and sweet in their movements. You pulled away from his neck, eyebrows pushed together in itching confusion. He met your eyes, eyebrow raised, puzzled at your expression. His hands paused on your back, waiting for you to elaborate on whatever it was that was bothering you.

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know if you wanted to bring up the unspoken silent agreement between you two. You couldn’t even explain what the agreement was if someone asked, you would be loss for words. It was just something you and Spencer both knew and never talked about.

That this wasn’t going to happen.

You and him.

The two of you would continue passing comments and compliments in private at work, being each others safe space after a particularly hard case, you would continue coming to his house to watch doctor who, and eating way too much take out.

You would continue fucking in the bathroom of whatever bar the team decided to go to, where spencer would ramble about how unsanitary it was to be doing so while curling his fingers inside you. You would continue kissing in elevators and in the passenger seat of his car when no one else was around.

You would continue falling asleep at his house, in his bed, in his clothes, leaving way too early in the morning leaving a note.

It could never be more than that.

You and Spencer weren’t supposed to be more than that. You had that decided in your head the first time he kissed you in your hotel room on a case months ago. It was a simple innocent conversation and then he kissed, and you kissed him back.

Now the lines around your unspoken agreement were fogging. Every time you fell asleep in his arms you could feel the lines being erased more and more until they had been nothing more than a faint outline.

He noticed your lack of words as his hands squeezed your hips softly. He studied your face as his twisted into something you could only describe as conflicted. He opened his mouth to talk but nothing came out.

But the look in his eye told you everything you needed to know, your face fell flat. “Spencer” you spoke warningly but it didn’t matter, the words were being spoken. The question was being asked.

“What are we doing here?”

His words left his lips quiet and meaningful. They held the emotions he tried to ignore for your sake. The words hit you like a ton of bricks, immediately sending your mind into a frenzy.

‘What are we doing here?’

The words replayed in your head as your stomach twisted up in denial. How were you suppose to know anymore than he did?

You deflected, shrugging your shoulders. “Um.. Watching doctor who” You said, eyebrows pinched. You knew exactly what he meant, he knew you did, he knew this game. He had been playing it with you for months.

His hands remained on your side as you reverted from his touch. Shutting down in the way he had seen you do probably a hundred times. You would make yourself small, and avoidant of everything you felt beyond surface level.

He mumbled out your name, in a way that caused your heart strings to tug. His mutter of your name came out like a warning sign, like he knew you knew what he meant.

“Spencer” You muttered back as you moved out of his grasp to shuffle off his lap, instead on your knees on the couch beside him. You were sure your tone showed exactly how disinterested you were in having this conversation.

It would only end one way.

You knew it would have to happen eventually, that there was only so much time the two of you could dance around it, but you wanted to stay in your bubble a little bit longer.

“Please.” He begged.

You weren’t sure what it was he wanted. To have this conversation? a label? To end it? You didn’t know and you weren’t sure you wanted to either. You and him never spoke about your feelings for each other, but it was evident you both had them.

The difference was he indulged in his feelings while you ran away from them.

It didn’t help when he was looking at you with the softest pleading eyes, his hands reaching out for you. It made you almost forget every ounce of common sense.

Almost

“I think I should go” You breathed out as your head turned away from his. You saw his face fall in your peripheral vision, making your heart feel as if it was ready to shatter into a million different pieces, each one covered in his name.

His hand tucked under your chin turning your head to face his. His eyes locked on yours and you swore every ounce of your self control was tested in the way his eyebrows furrowed sadly and his eyes pleaded with you.

“You don’t have to go.. Just talk to me..” He muttered out your name, thumb rubbing over your chin, before slowly it trailed down your bottom lip to pull it out from its place under your teeth. “I need to know, sweet girl.” He said gently as his thumb returned to its place on your chin.

“We wouldn’t work.” Your hand wrapped around his wrist that held his hand to your chin. You tried to keep your voice strong but it betrayed you as it came out quieter than you wanted. Your eyes stayed locked on his, the tension between the two of you suffocating.

His eyebrows deepened, “Why not? We worked before, we work now.” He spoke, his eyes holding every emotion you refused to let yourself feel. It was almost infuriating.

Your head shook in his hold. His words were touching parts of your mind that you avoided even attempting to approach. His eyes remained pleading at you.

“It’s different. You know it is. Relationships are different. It gets messy. We don’t need messy- We’ve had enough messy for a lifetime.. or three” You try to joke to deflect to bring the conversation back above the surface level, it didn’t work as you saw his eyes flash with something.

“This already is messy.” He said, his teeth gnawed at the gums of his cheeks, as he stared at you. He was right, you knew he was right.

“We are messy. this, us, whatever this is, its messy. Whatever feelings you are so scared of confronting are messy. That doesn’t go away just because you refuse to acknowledge it” His words were gentle yet spoke like one of his scientific rambles. He spoke every word like the was evidence to back it up.

It made the words fall flat against your tongue as your head dipped down into his hand. He didn’t make an attempt to push you to look at him, instead his hand moved gently to cup the back of your head, encouraging it towards his chest.

You gave in to his touch with ease, like muscle memory. Your arms wrapped under his arms as his hand stayed in place cupping the back of your head as his fingers ran over your scalp hidden by hair, his other resting around your waist.

“You know sailors right?” He muttered out, voice almost a whisper as his fingers curled softly in your hair, fingernails scratching your scalp soothingly. You nodded into his chest despite the confusion of how that had anything to do with what you guys were talking about.

He hummed at your nod, “They spend their entire lives at sea, everyday, every night. They dedicate their entire lives to the sea because they love it. They love it regardless of the storms, or the dangerous currents.” His other hand trailed over your back, under your shirt his warm hand against your soft skin.

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t know what he was trying to say.

“At least 2,000 sailors die and sea each year, but they die happy because they died doing what they love. They died in the one place they dedicated their entire lives to, despite the storms or the dangerous currents. They don’t let the chance of a tsunami stop them from perusing what they love”

Your head pulled from the fabric of his shirt, furrowing your eyebrows slightly. You didn’t want to admit the fact that even though you were confused, him talking relaxed your muscles and the intensity of the emotions coursing through your body.

“So what?” You huff, eyes squinted as you look up at him.

His lip quipped slightly, “So, no matter how much you don’t want to hear it. I love you.” He said, his words came out sure and honest. The intensity in his tone so pure and careful.

You didn’t say anything as his words sent shockwaves through your body. You didn’t know what to say. It was easier to ignore his obvious feelings for you when he wasn’t saying them looking into your eyes like that.

“Like a sailor. I love you like a sailor” He huffed, finishing his point.

Your eyes twitched downwards, “You know most sailors are alcoholics so their judgements isn’t really something to go off” You mutter out, “They don’t care about the dangers and risk because they are stupid and drunk half the time to deal with the loneliness”

He snorted, he couldn’t help it. “Yeah well, Im not an alcoholic. Stupid maybe, but not an alcoholic” He said. Your head lifted to meet his eyes as a scoff left your lips.

“You aren’t stupid, you know you aren’t stupid.” You muttered. He smiled, his hand on your back encouraging you closer towards him.

“Then trust me.” He spoke.

Your eyebrow raised. He didn’t stop there. “Trust me. I won’t hurt you, god id rather lose my entire IQ and everything else than ever hurt you — Yes there will be hard times, of course there will, but we work through it. There is no reason why we couldn’t make us work. I love you. You know I do.” He pushed.

You paused for a moment, “Spencer” It was warning.

“You love me too. No matter how much you try not to or deny it. You love me” He just kept pushing and his words stuck something, causing your ribcage to ache as your heart thumped against it.

“Its not that simple-“ He didn’t wait to hear your argument as his hands cupped your face. “I love you, do you understand that? I love you. You love me. I love you, how many times do I have to say it before you believe it? What will it take for you to let me love you?”

Your lips pursed, “Stop talking”

But he didn’t.

“You love me, just admit it” He pleaded as his hands cupped your jaw. It made it clench in his grasp.

Of course you loved him, that didn’t make it easier to let him in, it didn’t stop your mind coursing with every single way that this could ruin everything between the two of you. The years of friendship, the dynamic, everything could fall apart.

He sighed when you didn’t answer him. His hands fell from your face and you instantly felt the burn from the cold air around you that replaced them.

“We have a 50/50 chance.” He breathed out as he leant back from you. His hands stayed reaching out for your own. The screaming in your mind telling you to run and leave now was ignored when you fingers intwined with him.

He made so easy to stay.

He watched you open your mouth to argue, but he cut you off. “Yes, there is the chance that we wont work out, not that i see it but realistically there is that chance. However there is an 100% chance that we can work through whatever issues arise. There is no question about whether I love you enough to stay through hard times. All you have to do is trust me. Take the chance and trust me.” He spoke clearly. His eyes glazed over with emotions he tried to downplay.

“There is nothing that I don’t want to know about you, there is nothing about you I wouldn’t fall completely in love with” He said quieter this time.

You breath caught in your throat. Your mind racing with contradicting feelings. Nothing you were capable of putting into words as everything you tried to keep buried inside you rose to the surface before you could stop it. The look on his face told you enough to know he wasn’t going to drop this, there was nothing you could do to push him far enough away for him to stop wanting you all the same.

That was terrifying, it was confronting and overwhelming. It was too much.

Your body was quick to move towards him. You didn’t want to say you threw yourself at him, but you basically did. Your lips were on his and your hands were tangled in his hair. Every emotion and feeling you couldn’t admit out was made all too clear in the way your lips pressed against his.

He kissed you back with the same intensity. His hands pulling you closer as his other cupped your jaw, fingertips curling into your hair. Every unspoken word. Everything you tried to deny made clear in your lips against his.

“I love you” You said, chest heaving when you pulled away from his lips, your forehead falling against his as heavy breaths left your mouth. His hand stayed on your jaw and you leant into the touch. “Im sorry— I love you, you know I do. I know I do — I- You are so- I love you” It comes out as a ramble

“You idiot.” He muttered, shaking his head. A wide smile deeming place on his face. His hand dragging you towards his lips once more.

“I love you like a sailor, even though that analogy is cringey, and sickeningly sweet. I love you” You breathed out once his lips pulled away from yours.

He only grinned wider. “What happened to them being stupid drunks?” He teased, mocking your earlier words as his hand came to push a strand of hair out of your face.

You shrugged, “Im okay with being like a stupid drunk when it comes to you.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds show #criminalmindsfans #criminal minds x reader #spencer criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid x reader #wattpad #criminal minds one shot #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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joeloverture · 13 days ago

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flesh currency | j.m. x disabled!f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog | on palestine

pairing: qz!joel miller x disabled!f!reader summary: you have an arrangement with joel. pleasure as currency for your painkillers. but what happens when he tires of the same old song and dance? warnings: (18+ mdni) reader has chronic pain/uses a cane*, sexual favors for painkillers, dubcon but reader is fully comfortable even with the headspace she's in, drugs (reader takes illegal painkillers, the kind is not described), elements of both game and show joel, ableism (cr*pple), mean!joel, slight intox (reader takes 1 pill before the act but is in her right mind during), smut, degradation, underwear sniffing/musk kink, ass eating/rimming (m!receiving), instructions, humiliation, slight praise, thigh riding/leg humping, tit & ass grabbing, cumplay [no use of y/n] word count: 6.2k author's note: stimky joel. yeah. this is my grossest fic to date but it's also kind of my favorite. there's regressive language packed in here (junkie, etc) but that doesn't align with my perspective on the use of opiods when it comes to patients in pain. hell, im one of them. i hope this speaks to you as much as this is hot for you. thank u @lovesickonmybed for being my rock as always. pics in moodboard arent mine. *don't let this put you off, please. being disabled in the apocalypse is not as far fetched as fungal zombies. it's always useful to read experiences that aren't yours.

“You need to go home, lady.”

The FEDRA fuck glowering down at you is bulky and glistening with sweat. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, chapped lips twisted into a snarl. The hustle and bustle of the mess hall is persistent, a thrum of chatter and scraping utensils that batters your skull. A rag hangs limp from your hands — saturated with dirty water and diluted cleaner.

You lean heavier against your cane and wince as the handle digs deeper into the calloused heel of your palm. “Why?” you ask, tilting your head up.

“Can’t have any fucking cripples slowing us down. You knocked over that spray bottle five separate times. Been counting.” Cripple. The word hurts almost as much as the burning, burning, burning in your legs and arms. Almost.

He gestures vaguely towards the busted spray bottle of cleaner. You hadn’t noticed it fall down on the bench as you were tying yourself into knots just trying to wipe it down.

“But I need rati-”

“Don’t care what you need. You’re slowing people down. Got more suitable workers lined up outside the door. Get going, or I’ll have you removed.”

The spray bottle is capsized much like you, tilted and leaking onto the bench. A needling sensation pedals itself into the back of your knee and you can’t stop yourself from wincing.

You squeeze the rag in your hands and chuck it onto the table before you limp out of there.

Pain isn’t something that happens to you anymore.

It’s inextricable from yourself. Sewn into your muscles, bone marrow, and tissue. Stabbed into the pincushions of your fleshy joints. You’ve become the pain scale, the same one that hang in the FEDRA-installed medical tents.

Usually, your pain is a bearable backdrop to the show that is trying to survive in the QZ. Lately, though, it’s become the centerpiece. Just as inescapable as this hellhole you’re stuck in.

You weren’t always like this. There are flickers in your memory of sob stories on the news. Kids in wheelchairs or dragging themselves along with arm crutches before they even got their braces. Something happened to you after the world ended. Something that derailed you, sent you scattered into a thousand pieces and left you in the shrapnel spray of your own making.

You try not to think about it.

It’s hard not to on days like this, though. There’s books in the semi-refurbished libraries and abandoned bookstores that talk about how people like you used to live. They’d have benefits programs (laden with flaws, of course) that kept them afloat. Caretakers, sometimes. Elevators used to work without generator power. You envy them.

There are endless more in this QZ just like you. Limping, shambling, flailing. Drowning in the black sea of FEDRA suits.

Right now, you’re crawling.

Up the stairs of a derelict apartment building. Trash lines the sides of the stairs, crumpled and mashed into the ground by heavy-footed boots. You tangle your hand in a cobweb and wipe it on your jacket, cane thunking against the stairs as you haul yourself up. When your knee bashes against the edge of a stair, your hands grapple against the air as you fight an invisible entity. A frustrated, exhausted noise crumbles in the back of your throat.

Floorboards creak behind you, and you cringe.

“Fuck are you doin’?”

You roll over and muster a rueful smile. “Hi, Joel.”

The first time you went to Joel, he was your last resort.

“I need something for pain. Anything.”

He’d looked at you like he saw right through you. Now, knowing what you do about him, you’re sure that he did. Like a pane of stained glass that he’d held up to the sun.

He’d rifled through his mattress for a couple minutes. “Got you for sixty.”

You couldn’t do sixty.

When you told him that, he’d only shrugged at you. “Ain’t my problem, kid. Either scrounge it up or quit wastin’ my time.”

“I– I–”

You were never very seductive. Not even before your body turned into… this. This cataclysmic, living horror that disorients you in every waking moment.

You settled for unzipping your jacket. Tugging down your tank top. Showing your tits.

A wordless ordeal, one where your cheeks flamed hot and you felt like he’d taken a scalpel to your skin. But you always felt like that, at least.

“Ah, now we’re talking.” The chair scraped against the floor as he stood, meeting you in two strides. He’d looked at you with heat in his dark eyes, so dark that you could see yourself leaving your dignity in a pile at his feet. He’d reached across the empty space between the two of you and grabbed a handful of your tit, thumbing at your peaking nipple. “A junkie and a whore. You’re cute, I’ll give you that.”

You hadn’t been scared to spread your legs. To let him into the warmth festering in your core. It hurt, all of it did, it always does. But for a brief, blistering moment, when he was balls deep inside of you, the pleasure swelling in your stomach had been enough to dim the lights of the pain.

Since then, you just kept going back. A leech he just couldn’t shake.

“Jesus, girl. C’mon, up on your feet.” He patted you on the shoulder, grabbing your cane for you. He holds his hand out. You swallow your pride and accept the help, letting him drag you up. You wrap your arm around his shoulders and your free hand around the banister, letting him pull most of the legwork. “Stumblin’ around like a goddamn stalker.”

You grumble under your breath, a jumble of words too incoherent to mean anything sufficient. At the top of the stairs, he thrusts your cane back into your hand and heads down the hall without you. You glare at his shoulders before limping after him. One dragging step after another. The tread of your boot dips into a greasy looking puddle.

Joel fumbles for the key into his apartment, and you lean against the wall while he sorts himself out. At least he’s not covered in blood today. There’ve been times where you’ve shown up when he’s fresh off of a supply run, smoking gun sticking out of his waistband.

You use your cane to knock the door shut behind you.

“You’re lookin’...” He surveys you. “worse for wear.”

“Fuck you, too,” you say. A pause, punctuated by casual crossfire outside. “I need more.”

Joel huffs a laugh. “‘Course you do.”

He’s never given you that sort of attitude before. You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Please, I–”

“I ain’t a one man Salvation Army. Everyone’s got needs.”

“I’ll… I can…”

“What? Suck me off? You got a pretty mouth, baby, but I got about twelve girls who can do the same thing.”

“FEDRA won’t let me work,” you blurt out. Sympathy with Joel isn’t even a one way street. It’s a path that hasn’t been foot trodden. “They… they kicked me out when I tried, I’m trying, Joel, I swear I a–”

“Deep breaths,” he says. He folds his arms over his chest and jerks his head toward the slouching couch in the room. “Sit down. Can’t talk to ya if you’re fuckin’ hyperventilating.”

You prop your cane up against the armrest and drop yourself into the cushions. You dig your palms into your eye sockets and suppress a scream.

“I’m working at a deficit with you.”

“I know,” you grit out.

“I put up with a lot, but you’re drainin’ me dry here.”

“You’re right,” you relent. “I’ll find someone else. Sorry… for the trouble.” You reach for your cane again, but then he’s tugging it out of your reach.

“You’re waddling around like a fuckin’ fool flingin’ your legs open for any guy whose got what you need, gonna get yourself killed out there. Lotsa guys have less of a tolerance for girls like you than I do. I’m not runnin’ you out the door.”

“Then what are you doing, Joel?” you ask, hand still hanging in the open, wrapped around the empty air where your cane should be.

He sets the cane in your hand, and you deposit it at your side again. “Givin’ you a wake up call,” he says. “What’re you willing to do for your fix?”

“I…” Just three short months ago, before you’d sought out the much-feared Joel Miller, you would’ve said nothing. Just three months ago, your pain was bearable, livable, mere tinnitus. Now it is a bonfire. Roaring in the kindling of your ribcage. “Anything.” You swallow, worrying your tongue against your teeth. “I just want to feel normal.”

“Tough shit,” he says.

You have nothing to say to that. You only sit there, biting into the inside of your cheek. Knives sink into your skin with each breath. It hurts to be alive, it is anguish to be alive, and you just want to swallow a pill down dry. Enough to dull the edge, enough to make things tolerable. You stare at your feet as the room swirls.

“Alright,” Joel says after a moment. “You look beat, and I’d be a worse man than I already am if I ‘took payment’ now. I’ll give you one.”

Your eyes light up.

“You’re gonna take a quick nap in my room while I pull some strings, yeah? Let it kick in. Then we’ll see about what you can do to earn the rest if you’re up for it.”

Maybe sympathy can be a two way street. You’ve heard everything about him. Seen the occasional wanted poster floating through the street before FEDRA moved on to the Firefly of the week. Likely heard gunshots fired from the barrel of his gun.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he plucks one from a baggie. He drops it in your hand and you can’t help but wrap it in your fist. The inherent value of what he has given you.

He sees you eyeing it, sees you thinking, and says, “Don’t hurt yourself. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

And you do wake in an hour, scar-serrated, gun-hardened hand on your cheek. It’s instinctive to roll away, or at least it should be with someone who’s as bloodstained as Joel. Instead, you find yourself nuzzling into his palm before you’re even fully awake, when the walls of his apartment are only a border of the shapeless dream you’d been having.

“Rise ‘n shine, sleepyhead,” Joel says. He taps you on the apple of your cheek, and you find yourself blinking the crust from your eyes. Your fists go to rub at them. “Feeling any better?”

It’s not entirely gone — it never entirely is. It’s always the sand dollar nestled in the sand. The grain of sand lodged inside of the crevices. The clutch of your high is less of a clutch than it is a hangnail caught on a thread. It’s only a fracturing lightheadedness instead of a backslide into euphoria. You feel perfectly grounded, body taken off of the perpetual razor blade edge it rests on and airlifted onto a sturdy mattress.

“Yeah,” you croak, clearing your throat of any trace of grogginess. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says. “I got twelve slow release tablets for you. Should be enough to get you strong enough to work the ration lines for a couple days.”

“I promise I’ll make this worth your while– agh.” You say, whimpering as you try to sit up.

Joel keeps you down with a hand on your shoulder. “Oh yeah? And what exactly are you offerin’ me this time, huh? More of those pretty tits? A taste of that leaky little cunt?”

“Anything you want,” you blurt out. A hefty statement with even heftier implications. But just one pill has shredded your pain from glass sticking out of your skin into little pinpricks. A miracle confined to a little circular pill.

Joel cocks his head at you. “Anything, huh? You’d sell your soul for a hit, wouldn’t you? Let me do whatever the fuck I wanted to that pretty ‘lil body of yours?”

A better person, the upstanding salt of the earth, would’ve walked away long ago. But you can scarcely walk on a good day, so all you can do is bob your head at him.

A smirk slices across his face. Joel reaches out to you to grip your chin, thumb pressing into bone. It’s satisfying in a twisted sort of way. Your eyes go all glassy and your lips form a picturesque pout. “Well ain’t that just precious,” he croons at you. “You think you’re the first desperate junkie to offer me the world for a cheap high?”

“No,” you mumble. “But that’s not… that’s not what this is. I have a good reason —”

Joel snorts at you. “Yeah, keep tellin’ yourself that. Might not be the first one to come crawlin’ — literally — to me, but you might be the most pathetic. Tits and ass, that’s all you got to trade. Tell me sweetheart, how long ‘fore those goods wear thin?”

“According to you, they already have,” you fire back.

“Oh, they definitely have,” he says, voice so stony that it’s on the verge of being a leer. “But that don’t mean I can’t squeeze a little more outta you. You see, kid, I got a special request today. Something that requires a… different kinda payment.”

You worry your lip, teeth scraping over skin. You’re already in this deep. There’s so little you have to lose, pride included. Eventually, you take a deep breath and steel yourself. “Please, Joel. Just… just tell me what I can do.”

He leans in close, breath hot against your ear as he hangs onto your chin. “You’re gonna eat my ass, baby. And you’re gonna do it with a smile on your face, you understand?”

You stare, blinking once and then twice. He– you– what? “Excuse me?” you ask, brows furrowed.

“You heard me right, sweetheart. I want to see that pretty little mouth wrapped around my asshole, suckin’ and slurpin’.” He squeezes your chin. “That make enough sense to get through your drug-addled head?”

You squirm under his scrutiny, face heating up as if you’ve been held over an open flame. He’s looking at you as if he’s got you all figured out. Knowing him, he does. After you’re certain his handprint has started to stain your jaw, you say, “...Why?”

He shrugs. “Why not? ‘Cause I can pull any crackhead off the street and shove ‘er down on my cock until snot’s runnin’ out of her nose and her belly’s full of my cum. Can’t just find any girl who’s willing to knock on my backdoor. Takes a real nasty degenerate bitch to do that. And you’re a desperate little druggie willin’ to do anythin’ for a fix. You said it yourself.” He chuckles under his breath. “Seems like a match made in heaven to me.”

You swallow. Work the saliva in your mouth. “I… I’ve never, um–”

Joel’s head goes back with a grating, harsh laugh. “Never ate any ass before? Oh, you’re a dainty ‘lil thing, ain’t ya? Don’t worry your pretty head, sweetheart. I’ll teach you what you need to know.”

“I didn’t think you’d be the type to… want that sort of treatment.” Joel’s rough in bed, yes. Probably less rough with you than the other girls he sees, considering your predicament. You just hadn’t marked him as the type to want anyone near his ass.

Joel laughs. “I sure as hell ain’t. But here’s the thing, sweetheart. I don’t just want your tongue proddin’ around between my legs. I want to see your slutty little face smushed between my cheeks while you debase yourself for your hit.”

And that… makes more sense. This isn’t about his pleasure. It sure as hell isn’t about yours. It’s about him getting off on making you suffer, making you do something uncomfortable, something many would dub unpleasant.

Maybe you are a nasty fucked up degenerate bitch, because slick leaks into the gusset of your panties.

“Think you wanna do that for me?” he asks, dragging his hand from your chin, down your side, to where he gives your hip a light squeeze. “For you?”

“Yeah,” you say, a little breathless and plenty dizzy. Then, when you gather your wits, you nod firmly and speak louder. “Yeah.”

“Attagirl. Knew you were an obedient little pill chaser.” He gives your hip a tiny little smack. “C’mon, strip for me. Show me what we’re workin’ with.”

This part, you’ve done.

You fiddle with the hem of your tank top and lure it over your head before dropping it on the floor. You wriggle out of your bra, letting your tits fall loose. Joel nods his approval as you kick off your boots. You move on to your jeans, flicking the button. Dragging them down your thighs, savoring the hitch of denim on blemished skin. You have no problem showing off for him in this way, heels knocking your waistband down and leaving the pants in a lump on the floor. You’re left in your panties, the wet spot with the evidence of your slick shining through.

“Oh, baby,” Joel laughs. You shiver. “Ain’t even done anything to you… fuck, maybe you were meant to be a little ass eating slut. Filthy thing.”

You avert your eyes, face flaming, body boiling from the inside out. He’s standing hip-level with you, his semi visible in the stretch of his jeans. “Hey,” he says, hand gliding up your side. He taps your cheek with a bent knuckle. “No reason t’ be scared. First time for everything, yeah? Not gonna bite ya.”

You’re not scared. Just demeaned and humbled — exactly where he wants you to be.

He undoes his jeans, zipper snarling as it loosens, and knocks them and his boots off in a pile next to yours. He makes no move to take off his briefs or shirt, just taps your thigh. “Scoot,” he says. You shuffle over. “Gonna lay on my back. Figure that’ll be comfiest for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Um, thanks.”

Despite his reputation, despite how he treats you like a fucking cum rag, and despite this being a business transaction, he never neglects your own comfort. He never blocks the door. He never traps you in this situation.

Joel climbs onto the bed, sprawls out among the flattened pillow below. You go back on your haunches before adjusting yourself onto your stomach. You look at him and his rising bulge as he gets comfortable.

“I, uh, what do I–” You’re bumbling, and you know it. Seduction, even after a few transactions with Joel, still isn’t your domain.

“Alright, you little ass kisser in training. Gonna ease you into this. First thing you gotta do is get comfortable with the smell,” he says.

You give him a look.

“Like I said, you’re drainin’ me dry. Soap’s not the cheapest find, baby. Gotta make due. Besides, who needs bar soap when I’ve got your eager little tongue ready to wash me up?”

“Jooooel,” you whine, nose crunching.

“Nuh uh. No complainin’. I’m doin’ you a solid here, unless you’d rather me shove you face-first between my cheeks?” You shake your head, and he raises his brows at you. “Thought so.”

Joel slowly peels off his briefs, and your mouth can’t help but water at the sight of his mostly-hard cock. You remember the heft of it inside of you, the way he’d made room for himself inside of your body. And then your eyes trail lower to how his bulky thighs branch into the meat of his ass.

He hands you his briefs and gives you an expectant look. “Go ‘head. Sniff ‘em.”

“I– really?” you ask. They’re heavy in your hand and the exact sort of thing you’d expected him to wear. An off-white color, discolored by years of sitting around in a post apocalyptic world. A little bit stretched out with a hole in the waistband.

“Really. C’mon, kid, I don’t have endless patience.”

You change you grip on them and tentatively bring them to your nose, inhaling the musk that he’s embedded into the fabric from days of wear. It’s sharp and pungent, but underlined with a faint trace of sweetness. His musk is almost sugary, with the way it cloys inside of your lungs. Your hesitant sniffs turn into fuller, deeper breaths.

A cocky grin crosses his face. “And that’s just the appetizer, baby. Wait until you get a real mouthful of me.”

You whimper into the fabric, snuffling against it. Feeling yourself drift into that floaty, cotton-candy state of mind that you nosedive into whenever you’re with him. You watch, enraptured, as he spreads himself apart. His pucker is nestled in a thatch of hair and skin, tanner and darker than the rest of him. “See that?” he asks “That’s where you’re tongue’s headin’ baby.”

You let out a tiny little whimper. Joel laughs at you and a fresh wave of slick saturates your panties.

“This is the real deal, sweetheart. Go ahead. Give it a whiff.” You dip your head lower than it already is, nerves winding around your chest. You take a tiny, halfhearted breath. “How’re you gonna kiss it if you can’t even breathe it in, baby? Just get your nose in there, first. Think of it as an initiation.” He reaches back and gently grabs the back of your neck, tugging you closer. Before you know it, your nostrils are mashed against his hole, and every breath you take is muddied by him. You whine, a keening noise that traps itself in your throat.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Deep breaths, now. Let me defile that pretty nose.” You listen to him, controlling your breaths and drawing them in deep. “You’re gonna learn to love this. Nasty fuckin’ girls always do.”

You pull back when he loosens your grip on his neck, panting and dizzy off of him. You feel cross-eyed, almost. Swooning over the sensation of being buried between his legs.

“Look at you,” he coos. “Really are just a pathetic ‘lil fucktoy. All worked up and drooling over my ass.”

“I,” you start, but your voice tapers off when you realize you can’t argue that. You are pathetic, damn near slobbering over him just for a chance at pain relief.

“Say it before your mouth gets busy,” he says. “You know what you are, sweetheart. Tell me.”

“I’m your pathetic little fuck toy,” you whisper. You can’t disobey him, not if you want your drugs. But he isn’t wrong. How could he be, when you’re so far underneath him right now?

“And?” he nudges.

“And — I want to eat your ass.” The words come out all stumbling and embarrassed, muffled by your own shame. But they only make you wetter.

He smiles down at you. “Attagirl. Now why don’t you kiss the outside for me. Get used to usin’ that cute little mouth.”

You’re a squeamish person. It’s in your nature; unfortunately a nature that’s contradictory to the nature of the world that you live in. Still, you swallow whatever scraps remain of your dwindling pride and kiss up his sun kissed thighs. You plant your lips above the crook of his knee and poke your tongue out, laying a trail of saliva and heat up to the crease of his thigh. Joel sighs as you draw a spiral with your tongue. You glance up at him through lidded eyes and are almost startled by the unadulterated want that glaze his own eyes.

“Gettin’ closer, baby,” Joel says. His hand goes up to cup the back of your neck, thumb rubbing circles into your neck. “Knew I chose right with you. Got a curious mouth on ya.”

You nuzzle up to his ass cheek, pressing a timid kiss against the swell of it. You bite gently at your lower lip when you separate from him. Your breaths have quickened, now, and he gives the back of your neck a reassuring little squeeze.

“Spread ‘em,” Joel coaxes, so you do. You press your thumbs into supple, fuzzy skin and spread him open for your scrutiny. You can’t help but lick your lips and come to regret it the second he chuckles. “Hungry, aintcha?” And maybe you are. But still, you hesitate when you lean in, taking a deep breath that is entirely steeped in his musk.

“Like a deer in headlights,” Joel mumbles. “Gonna make my hole blink at you or what, baby?”

“You’re crass,” you say, teeth digging into your lower lip.

“What’s crass is how your sloppy cunt is leakin’ waterfalls all over my bedspread.” He smirks at you when you pull a face. “Now go on, baby, I know you wanna eat it right on up.”

You try to ignore the distinct kickdrum of your throbbing clit where it’s buried between your thighs. Your head dips, and you kiss up his cleft. Occasionally, your tongue flicks out. He tastes how he smells. Like the same sweat and musk that everyone has from living in the QZ with an undercurrent of almost honeyed warmth. You lick up the inside of one of his cheeks, pride rushing through your gut when your tongue at the edge of his asshole makes him moan.

“Quit avoidin’ it, sweetheart. I got places to be. Jus’ pretend it’s a peach ring.” You’re dizzy, head swimming off of the sensation of being this close to him in this way. “Give it a ‘lil kiss. Just a smooch.”

You lean in and press your lips against his pucker, a tiny whine lodging in your throat. Joel grunts above you. It’s humiliating, being this low beneath him, this debased. There’s not much further you can go, so you flatten your tongue against his tight hole and spin it around his skin. You’re drooling all over him, tongue sweeping across wrinkled flesh. “Fuck, attagirl, just like that.”

He tastes good. Savory almost. You lap against him, tongue laving across the furrows of his ass. It’s just as satisfactory as the time he’d shoved his cock down your throat and held you down until you were choking and teary eyed. If not more. Because he was right earlier — fewer girls would do this for a fix. And you’re one of them, on hands and knees while your tongue probes his most private place, licks all the sweat and grime from between his cheeks. You can’t help but moan.

“Told you you’d love it,” he says. “Told ya you fuckin’ would. God, you’re a needy little bitch. For your fix… for me.”

You whine in protest, but it comes out much more pathetic than that with your tongue slipping up and down his crack. Your hand goes up instinctively to play with his balls, squeezing and fondling with each pass of your tongue. Joel groans, hips jumping against you. “Yeah, that’s it. Eager slut… feelin’ me up…”

You whimper into him, muffled with how your face is buried between his cheeks. Your tongue lashes out again, whirling around his entrance. Your eyes flutter in time with your cunt. You want more, you’re just as hooked on him as you are on the sensation of being painless. You flick your tongue, lips peppering him with open-mouthed kisses as you work.

Joel hisses as you lightly test his entrance. “God.” His hips jerk again, sporadic. “Fuck — shit,” he groans. “Natural ass licker, aren’t you? Yeah, you are. Oughta tie you to my backside, have you doin’ this all the time.”

You mewl at the thought, thighs clamping together. Your free hand wriggles down to rub at your bare clit. You get two rubs in before Joel kicks your hand away. “Nuh uh. This ain’t about you.” Joel smirks. “All that bitchin’ about it, but you’re pretty fuckin’ horny for your tongue up my ass.” He hikes his legs under your arms. Confusion spreads across your face until he locks his ankles around your back and tugs you face first into his ass.

“Mmph!”

“Don’t suffocate. Be out of a pocket pussy if you do.”

Fuck. You clench, leaking all over his sheets. Your eyes can’t help but roll back.

“Look at you… bet you could get high off ‘a doin’ this if you tried hard eno– ungh.” Joel fully convulses when you wrap your lips around his asshole and suck. “Goddamn. Nasty whore really earnin’ them pills,” he grits out. You giggle into him when you see his cock twitch, precum oozing down the side of it. It leaks between his legs and onto your tongue, and you slurp him up eagerly.

You’re so aroused that it hurts, slick spilling in droves down the insides of your legs while you tongue him eagerly. Your hips rock subtly against the bed, and Joel’s head is too thrown back to notice your violation. He rocks his hips up into your mouth as you wriggle your tongue inside of his hole, probing the tightness of him as thoroughly as you can while he twists underneath you. “There you go, fuck me with your slutty tongue, baby. Get it in deep.” He groans as you drag your tongue along his insides. “Bet you’re gonna be sucklin’ on a pillow later. Thinking ‘bout my ass with your hands between your legs, rubbin’ that cock starved cunt.”

“Bet you’re wishing I’d pound that pussy now, huh? Wishing I’d shoot a load up that messy little slit?” You nod, tongue swiping up and down. You fuck your tongue in and out of him, moaning as you get the smallest friction from the sheets bunched up between your legs. His ankles tighten around your shoulders, holding you down with no escape.

You manage to wriggle in his grasp enough to spat a lob of spit into your hand. You reach up around his waist and wrap your fist around his cock, jerking him. Joel jumps, his hole rubbing against your tongue as he lets out a wrecked moan. Your thumb traces his head. Sounding strangled, he curses, “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Goddammit, you were made to eat ass. Wish I could have your tongue up there 24/7…. Show you off, baby. Bet some other smugglers would love to take your tongue for a ride, but no. Your pretty little mouth only opens wide for me, huh? Whenever I say jump, you ask me how high, dontcha?”

You moan in assent, tightening your grip on his cock as you stroke him. Your tongue works even harder, messy as you draw circles of spit around his rim. You suck with your lips locked around him, watch his abdomen twitch as you do, watch precum ooze from the head of his cock. You collect it on your thumb and use it to work him faster. Your tongue runs laps around him, his eyes fully on you. “God, baby, fuck, I’m comin’, I’m, co–”

With your tongue deep in his ass and your hand wrapped around his cock, Joel comes. Spurts of it leak out, some of it landing on your tits. You whimper and work him through it, through each groan and hitch of his hips, through each spasm and aftershock that coils through his body and snaps at him. His chest heaves as he looks at you, damn near starstruck.

“Grand prize ass eater right here. Nasty bitch, salivatin’ on my dirty hol—”

“Joel, please,” you cut him off, starry eyed all on your own.

“What? Already givin’ you your pills, ain’t no need to beg me for ‘em.”

“I–” you say. “I’m really wet.” You’re teary-eyed, maybe from the action of humiliating yourself, but much more likely from arousal, wound tighter than a coiled snake in your stomach.

Joel groans, and you swear his softening cock gives a mild twitch. “C’mon.” He swings his legs off of your shoulders and jerks his thigh, tapping it with a thick palm. “Get on up here.”

You an hour ago might’ve stood up for yourself, insisting that you at least deserve his fingers, but you right now was just tongue deep in Joel’s ripe asshole. So you scramble to mount his thigh, letting out a choked moan the second your swollen clit makes contact with his sweaty skin. You immediately start grinding yourself on him, feeling your slick squelch between your skin and his.

“Pathetic whore. Bet your tongue still tastes like my asshole, but you like that, don’t you? You like being my disgusting little junkie bitch.” You nod, bunching your hands into the fabric of his cum spattered t-shirt, tugging at it, tugging at him. “God, listen to you,” he says. Your broken-up moans, the sound of your wet pussy leaking and leeching against his leg. Your breaths are charred with the heat of pure, debauched need. It’s lewd, and you can see the shadow of yourself rocking your hips into him.

“Joel, oh God, Joel,” you moan, sinking your teeth into your lower lip as you roll your hips. Your clit catches on his skin and he groans.

“Gonna shove your face in the fuckin’ puddle you’re making,” he says. You clench hard enough that your eyes squeeze shut. His hands, once still at his side, move along to anchor at yours. He yanks you against him, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass cheeks. You’re wobbly and woozy, shaking as you hump him. “C’mon, c’mon. You need it, don’t you? About to cream all over your dealer.”

And you are. You’re so, so close, with pleasure strung so tight through your body that it could snap at any second. It’s coarse and ragged, a sort of friction that stings and catches on your insides. Your tongue’s hanging out, you’re leaking all over him, and you’re pumping your hips even faster. He smacks your ass hard enough that your ears ring.

Your head hangs low and you make a noise akin to a kicked puppy. One of his hands moves to your cumstained chest, rubs his cum into your aching, hardened nipple. “Give it to me, you depraved fuckin’ slut. Little pervert, rubbin’ that cute little clit on me.” He tenses his leg, and you’re done for.

“Joel!” you whine as you topple over that edge, flailing, kicking, screaming.

Joel grunts. “Attagirl. Soak me.” He keeps rutting you against him through the aftershocks, even after you go limp and slump against his front. You’re both sweat-slick, and you’re still shaking. A giddiness swipes through your body as you clench and clench. You’re out of your own body. This is a pleasure beyond the pleasures you have known.

Your mouth still tastes like him on the comedown.

You heave for air, winded as you look at him through darkened eyes. Joel pats you on the ass and pushes you off of him. “Oomph.” He grabs you by the back of the neck again, and, true to his promise, pushes you face-first against his thigh.

“Look at this,” he snarls. His thigh is glistening with your arousal and release, viscous and slippery. You whimper as you smell yourself on his skin. “Lick it up.”

That makes you clench again. You stick out your lolling tongue and lave over his leg, scooping up your cum with your own tongue. You whimper and pout at him, and find yourself dizzy with need when he laughs at you.

Then, you hit the mattress and the ceiling seems to spin over your head.

Joel gets up and groans. You think you hear his knees pop. A few footsteps later, and you’re all alone in his bedroom, cocooned in sweat-wet sheets. There’s an emptiness inside of you, one that sticks everywhere. The silence crackles along your eardrums.

“Here,” he says, and then you’re back inside of yourself. Your eyes flicker open and you’re watching him from upside down. He props your cane up on his nightstand and chucks a box of tissues at you. You grab a fistful of them and wipe down your chest, then your inner thighs.

He tosses you your clothes, next. You shiver and tug your shirt over your head with only some difficulty. When it comes to your legs, just lifting one makes it crash back down at your side. You bleat, squeezing your eyes shut through the pain. Maybe riding him had been… overzealous. But the painkillers had made you indomitable — or at least feel indomitable.

“Hey,” Joel says. “Let me help.” It’s a foreign tone from him. Softer than what you’re used to. He redresses you, even laces up your boots for you. When all’s said and done, he pats you on the ass. The silence is a blanket, a warmth of sorts.

“Thank you,” you mumble. “I… I’m sorry I don’t have any more to offer you.”

“Kid,” he says. “I agreed to this. I ain’t mad at you. And, hell, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that. I’d say it was worth it, even if you’re robbin’ me blind over here.”

He pulls out the baggie of pills and folds them in your hand. “Try to stay safe out there.” You nod at him and lean yourself on your cane as you stand. You swing it in time with your steps.

“I will,” you say. It feels like more of a hollow promise, if anything.

As your hand lands on the doorknob, he says, “My door’s open. Come back when you need more.”

Whether he means more pills or more of him, you’re not sure. Maybe he’s not sure, either. But you’re hooked on something, you think. And you pretty sure it’s not the drugs.

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller/reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #flesh currency : fic

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anantaru · 1 year ago

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BONUS KINK — POWER IMBALANCE

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — ayato, neuvillette, dottore, alhaitham

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, power imbalance, oral (male! receiving) & oral (fem! receiving), maid! reader in ayato's part, forbidden romance, toxic, dottore's part is kind of scary but what's new

𖧡 — AYATO

this, everything, made no sense and how come the answers ayato sought after were regarded as futile?

he certainly knows it— but no one was able to make him feel just the way you did, with his jaw slacked and his rumbling groans growing dangerously loud, his abdominal muscles twitching delightfully taut beneath the drag of your fingertips prancing over the curves and rills.

to be honest— it's somewhat confusing him, because he was certain you were only putting on a glorious facade to please him, perhaps even do this just because he was your boss, not because you actually liked it, or liked him for that matter.

a ragged mutter, low and with a mouth full, huffs over his dripping cock when your head expertly rolls up and down his rigid erection and traps searing twitches straight to his cock— and as a man with an important reputation to be upheld, ayato instinctively slaps one hand over his parted mouth to catch his sensual noises before they could bubble out of him.

the yashiro commissioner, revealed in his elevated eminence, that he was of calculative and prestigious nature, although right now, all of his well-trained strength was altered into smoke with a snap of your finger and well, your cheeks hollowing so unbelievably tight that you could taste him on your velvety tongue, while your hand eagerly sneaks down from your exposed tits to in between your legs, placing lazy strokes on your neglected clit and putting on a sweet show for your master, evidently feeling the effects when he throbs and twitches on your tongue as a response.

it was hard to tell, and you could notice that his breathing was beginning to quicken, electrifying your needfulness, groping and battering the thin skin covering his balls, running your fingers around all the little ridges until you hear him desperately writhe and sob, like he's been touch starved for months.

if all of this combined— your subtle looks up to make sure he's enjoying it, your immediate willingness to spend your night with him— wouldn't be noticed by a clever man, the yashiro commissioner, who was daily facing important paths head one, and wouldn't even realize that you are always there without demanding something in return, or hoping for a favor or just acquire a chance to play him like a violin.

ayato cannot fathom it, even after looking into the light of your eyes, that you do care, and him being of higher power wouldn't change a thing.

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

for all times, you have never questioned the relationship you had with monsieur neuvillette, not only because it was something you thoroughly enjoyed yourself but also because you can avidly see that coming into contact with human affections for once in his life, feeling them circulate over his trembling skin, made the eminent man relax on this particular occasion.

his eyes erstwhile spin gentle without that serious look towering on his face— and it felt good when he touched you, a sharp cry bristling upon your very lips when he laps his tongue over a satisfying spot on your pussy, his eyes searching yours for constant approval before he makes himself even more comfortable in between your quivering thighs.

simply put, you won't lie to yourself, but it was frightening— in fact, the first time neuvillette made his interest in you clear, you thought you were about to be sentenced to a crime, on the brink of a mental breakdown due to the unspecified attention the iudex of fontaine had suddenly given you.

but after a while, you found yourself loving it and cannot hide that there were certain benefits of being in a 'special' relationship with a man of high status such as he was— although, it's always a bit clumsy at first, his tendencies to lean awkwardly on his other arm to get the best angle or hold your hand while he rolls his tongue over your glistening folds, always so eager to please and before you know it, after some careful maneuvering neuvillette gets it right, pressing the tip of his tongue steadily in and out of your hole.

despite the fact that he wasn't aware of his hidden talent of hitting all of your secret spots and giving them their much deserved attention, you frantically clench your fists at the disheveled bedsheets underneath your frame, bucking your hips into his mouth only to be roughly forced back down by the weight of two strong arms on top of your lower belly, keeping you still.

a repeating fury of his hot tongue fucks into your sloppy hole that was greatly amplified by a low growl coming his throat, your lewd arousal melting on his cheeks and chin and it's nearly weakening his state of mind to feel your silken warmth define the shape of his long tongue repeatedly entering you.

for neuvillette, despite everything, he was overwhelmed in this new and strangely comforting setting— but there were rare moments, kisses and affirmations as deep-running as roots, that are trapped in an eclipse of a second, meaning when two souls dip into each other like a ray of sunshine brushing on ones skin.

such constellation were those moments shared with you to neuvillette, and he'd like to keep it that way.

𖧡 — DOTTORE

otherworldly power and the ability to hold yourself on par with literal gods certainly was one of the beneficial factors that strengthened your attraction to dottore— who always worked his way around your body with an alacrity that truly surprised you, with precision, like no other and an ulterior motive, you were blind to.

your soft hands are both placed against his bare chest when he drags his rigid length unthinkingly deep into your cunt, taking advantage of your body as you pressed willingly into him, eagerly riding and moaning above, his touch so unlike any others.

his full lips curve into a handsome smirk, dark eyes sweeping your breath away, "you know what to do," he drawls, sighing deep in his chest when your silken walls envelope him, "do a good job, and you'll get what you want," dottore continues to affirm you, finding revel in your wet and willing warmth.

"or fail, and i'll put you to better use," he warns softly.

you catch his lips form into a slackened mouth, his large palms skimming across your exposed chest as he pulls those wanton, engaging tunes from your throat with ease, your cunt sinking and twisting around his length as you gasped for air, the painful ache manifesting in between your thighs coming second place as nothing, and you mean nothing, ever came close to this.

dottore wanted more, you weren't aware of it yet but he always required more of his experiments, meaning he needed to see results from them— wanted to ruin your soul, it's vitality and your resolve, even if it meant that he had to act out a couple instances and mask himself a liar— his legs parting a little further as he kicks his hips up, giving you everything you needed with his pseudo sweet words and affirmations twisting across your entire body.

your hips were bouncing up and down his length as you clench around him, impatiently trashing your breathing as you helplessly claw red marks deep across his pale chest, your breasts spilled loose before he holds them in his palms, suffocating the last line of defense inside of your body as you practically gasp for air with dottore twisting around every rational instinct left in your exhausted frame.

𖧡 — ALHAITHAM

"hmm?" alhaitham raises a brow, "what's that look on your face?"

pondering above you, his eyes reveal a sprinkle of illumination and give off a subtle shade of light which only made you realize that he wasn't really waiting for an answer from you, at all, and instead greatly rejoiced in having you where he wanted you to be all time long, pressed under his large frame.

you relax slightly, your shoulders dropping an inch back into the silken pillows as alhaitham mentally applauded himself for such monumental effort to gnaw down one penetrative self satisfied smirk when he feels you twitch around his thick length, "what's that look on your face?"

"you scared?"

you suddenly spit back, still favoring the side of him where he wouldn't talk, "shut it," and as stated, keep his mouth sealed, your fingertips sweeping over his biceps and all across his tensed shoulders before teasingly pressing your nails into the flesh, making him flinch and groan at the sensual state.

"that's not how you talk to a superior, you know,"

your naked figure shivers beneath his crawling gaze when he reminded you of an obvious fact, alhaitham was your superior— your boss, and such constellation was certainly new to the both of you nor was it allowed in the first place.

what if someone was to find out? would the scribe even get in trouble? certainly not after everything he has done for sumeru.

but it's second-place when he makes you twitch and turn beneath his large body beginning to move and crowd your spongy insides with a restless snap of his hips, repeatedly sinking his erection all the way until he was completely inside, deliciously mirroring the past couple of times where he had perfectly memorized your reactions— aside from your moans and pleas that would always start and end with a;

"this was the last time!"

but alhaitham never fails to feverishly thrust his shaft into you, "more—," you crave, urgent with need, your quivering body nearly destroyed by the lust he was the cause of, both trembling at the very edge of a blissful orgasm as he slides in and out, inch by inch, pressing you down the bed so you could never forget those moments again— even if one day, you would have to part ways.

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #ayato x reader #ayato smut #dottore x reader #dottore smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #kinktober #genshin x you #genshin Impact x you #al haitham smut #al haitham x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles

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notstnana · 1 month ago

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𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒈𝒐| Jayce Talis x Reader

ミ★ ngl, im writting this entire thing out of a c.ai bot from @/lesttkarr(so if ur reading this and you want me to deleat it you can lmk), so big part of the start is from they´re bot (is not my first language)

ミ★Jayce Talis x Reader, fem!reader, angst, assistant!reader, mentions of sex, infidelity.

Ever since you started to work as Jayce's assistant you both had a pretty good relationship, working partners just like he would call his relationship with Viktor, he did not look at you like a simple assistant, you were his friend a close friend after all.

Time passed and your relationship with Jayce turned into something else, something more exciting, friends with benefits, where it felt natural, like it was meant to be, you both learned how to balance your connection with your shared ambition, and everything was perfectly aligned, or you thought so, everything changed when Mel Medarda entered the picture.

Mel, who was already a council member, had the influence that Jayce needed to elevate his work, with her mind she helped Jayce to take hextech to the next level, eventually her efforts paid off and Jayce earned his seat at the council, now Mel and Jayce where fellow council members, and certainly they had grown closer than ever, not just professionally but personally, like that the connection you once shared so passionately faded, being replaced by a public and powerful bond between Miss Mel medarda and him.

One normal and calm afternoon like the usual now, Mel arrived at Jayce´s studio while he was sorting through paperwork, they had a soft conversation, filled with shared ambition and laughter, it was like the ones that existed between you and Jayce.

From you, you felt and knew that things had changed after all Jayce was a counselor now, you couldn't lie you were happy about Jayce´s progress, you were happy with him being a part of the council, but missed his presence and the close relationship that existed before even thou you two where only friends with benefits, now you where back to be just his assistant, slowly starting to go more and more unnoticed, Jayce paid less and less attention to you, you understood he was a counselor now after all, more work and leed free time. You walked through the hallways of the academy on your way to jayce´s´studio to deliver some papers he had asked for a few days ago, the hallways were empty and all that you could hear was your own shoes, just like you were used to doing, you opened the door without knocking, facing the papers.

"Jayce, I got you the research you requ-" You found yourself at a loss for words when you raised your sight to the picture of Jayce´s head between Mel´s legs to what looked to be the beginning of their night, you did not really understand why you felt so affecter, the grip on the papers tightened. First reaction being closing the door quickly

Jayce's mind was fixated on the matter at hand, engrossed in a conversation with Mel, when your voice unexpectedly broke through. The sound of your footsteps and the creaking of the door captured his attention. He looked up from Mel, his gaze meeting yours. For a brief moment, he didn't realize the effect the sight would have on you.

A flash of realization crossed Jayce’s face as he watched you quickly close the door. He knew that you have seen something that didn't belong to you.

He exchanged a glance with Mel, silently communicating their concern.

You walked fast to your own little studio/room and slammed the door behind you, feeling your heart racing and trying to calm yourself down, "what the hell is wrong with you? Why does it affect you so much?" you asked yourself, after all, Jayce is not yours, not yours to feel that way, you are only his assistant now, no?.. His assistant… Jayce had seen every part of her body, caressed, kissed, and touched, the one he had held at night.

Mel of course had no idea about the "friends with benefits" relationship that jayce and you used to share not so long ago, judging from your reaction Mel only thought that it was normal, you know? you almost found a couple fucking.

Jayce had mixed feelings about the situation. There was a hint of guilt, knowing that you had seen something intimate that he never intended for you to see. But there was also a nagging curiosity. He wondered if you had been more affected by the scene than he thought. He excused himself from Mel, his mind still wrapped around the brief look he had seen on your face.

A few moments later, Jayce knocked on the door to your studio.

You felt a shiver down your spine when you heard the knocking on your door, answering as nonchalantly and calmly as you could.

"come in" you murmured turning your back to the door, writing on your notebook to clear your mind from the intrusive thoughts,Jayce entered the studio, his expression unreadable,He shut the door behind him quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound as he walked closer to you,He didn't miss the way you focused intently on the sketchbook, avoiding his gaze.

Jayce leaned against one of the desks nearby, his hands casually stuffed in the pockets of his black trousers,The room was filled with a tense silence for a moment until he spoke up.

"I need to talk to you about what you saw back there." He murmured trying not to disturb you more than he already had, you felt your beating stop for a few seconds, not stopping you from sketching, clearing your throat.

"no need to worry… I´ll act like I didn´t see anything, don´t worry"

You could feed a lump in your throat trying to stop the words from coming out of your mouth, but a big part of you knew that feeling bad would not fix anything, that answer was like avoiding the subject, trying to make it seem like nothing was crossing your mind.

Jayce raised an eyebrow at your feigned nonchalance,He noticed how you avoided eye contact and continued sketching in your notebook, trying to pretend like nothing had happened.

He didn't buy it, of course he did not, He knew you well enough to recognize when something was bothering you, whether you wanted to admit it or not. He took a few steps closer and leaned against the desk next to you.

"Is that really what you want to do? Just pretend like nothing happened?" His voice was soft but firm, trying to get you to look at him.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes just for a few seconds. "it is the right thing to do Jayce, isn't it?"

You murmured now looking at him, your eyes meeting his, you wished you could either erase the past or go back to it. "it is the right thing to do, what an assistant like me should do, act as if nothing happened so I can protect Miss Medarda´s honor"

The lump on your throat was still there, and even though it was difficult for you to talk, it sounded firm.

Jayce's eyes narrowed at your words,He could hear the of bitterness and resignation in your voice, even though you were trying to sound casual.

He moved closer, now standing right next to you, his hip gently leaning against your desk. He reached out to touch your hand, stopping you from sketching any further.

"And what about your feelings? I don't believe for a second that you're okay with acting like nothing happened, and you are not just and assistant"

Jayce is always so caring and sweet, you wish he weren't like that, so so…charming, you were mad at him, for being so sweet you could not hate him.

"Well, that is my title, no? Counselor Talis assistant, my job is to help you and any way i can and not to get in volver on you´re personal bussined unless you require me to do so"

Jayce's grip on your hand tightened slightly at your words. Your neutral tone and detached demeanor were painful to hear. He knew that there was truth in what you said, but it hit him how far apart you both had grown.

He pushed the glasses on his face up a bit before sighing and speaking again, his voice filled with a hint of frustration.

"Yes, you're my assistant. I know that. But you're not just that, You're-"

He paused, letting the words hang in the air,Finding the right words was so difficult for him.

You placed your hand on top of Jaycees hand, trying to calm him down, even tho the one having a really hard time was you. "Assistant" you completed his phrase looking into his eyes, his puppy soft confused eyes, "I´m your assistant Jayce".

The sight of your hand, laying gently on top of his own, only added to the pain he felt. His eyes locked with yours, and he could see the effort you were putting into distancing yourself from him. He knew that the more you repeated the word 'assistant,' the further you were pushing yourself from him.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. The frustration in his tone was clear as he continued."You're more than just an assistant, you know it and I know it. Why are you acting like you're just some mindless employee?"

"because that's what I have to be now! That´s my plaice now and I need to accept it"

Jayce understood, but a part of him didn't want to accept the truth, that he wasn't yours anymore and you were not his."you are dating Councilor Medarda, im nothing more than an assistant and I have to start behaving like one, and you know it damn well"

You ran your fingers over Jayce's knuckles, missing the touch, the much-personal touch, the room was silent, it felt cold compared with the other memories you both had in your studio.

"you are so happy with Miss Medarda, you are spillovers golden boy, and i can not take that from you, you are the man of progress, own it"

Jayce listened intently to your words, your touch on his knuckles igniting a mix of emotions in him. Your resignation, your acceptance of the changed dynamics between you two, was evident, and it pained him to hear.

He couldn't deny the truth in your words, though. He was with Mel now, and you had always understood that someday his ambitions would take him to higher places, away from where you both began.

He took a deep breath, his voice softer now.

"I am happy, yes. But… what about us?"

Your finger brushed his knuckles for the last time and murmured. "the is no such thing as us anymore…it ended the day she walked into your life and you decided that she was the one, not we are just…work partners"

Gently pull your hand away from his hand, feeling the cold air hitting the part of your hand that was being warmed by his.

The coldness in your tone, the detachment in your words, felt like a dagger to his heart. Jayce felt a sharp pang of guilt washing over him, realizing the truth in what you were saying.

He watched as you withdrew your hand, his heart sinking with the realization that this was the new reality between you both. He swallowed hard, trying to find the right words.

"I… I never wanted things to end…I never wanted us to be 'just work partners'.."

You pressed your lips together on a line, and then muttered almost in a whisper." I know…but Loked knocked on your door and you opened it, and believe it or not I'm happy you found love" he felt stubborn and couldn't help but want to insist, why, why could just be his...friend?

e's heart ached as he heard your words, the resignation in your voice. He felt a pang of guilt and regret, knowing that he had caused this distance between you both. Yet, he couldn't deny the love he felt for Mel either.

He let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair, trying to find the words to express what he was feeling.

"But can't we at least be friends? Just because I'm with Mel now, doesn't mean we have to forget what we had."

"I can´t be friends with the man who held me up at night, the one who knows every path of my body," You said in almost a thread of voice, you did not want to continue the conversation it was only making it worse.

Jayce's heart clenched at your words, the memory of their past together lingering like a ghost in the room. The weight of what they once had hung heavily between them.

He wanted to push, to fight, to keep you in his life as more than just an assistant. But he couldn't force his will on you either. He sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I… I understand."

His voice was quiet, his eyes searching yours for any hint of the old connection between you both.

You stayed silent, returning to your notes, trying to sink into your thoughts, leaving Jayce standing there, who was beginning to remember everything they went through together, the feeling of your soft, breasts in his hands, soft skin, whimpers, and those non-sexual but intimate moments, you lying next to him after a night of lovemaking, the little conversations you both had, looking into his eyes and stroking his hair softly, tangling your fingers in his hair combing it, holding his head on her chest in her arms pampering him, he loved that and you knew it, it was just one more memory that would live in his mind.

He had never experienced those moments with Mel, and Mel never seemed so interested in asking about what he liked, and he knew deep down that a part of him missed them. It was in those intimate moments that they had been closest, and now they were gone, replaced by a strange distance.

Jayce stood there, lost in his own thoughts, consumed by the memories of holding you in his arms. The silence in the room echoed his own internal struggle. A part of him longed for those moments to come back, when the world around them seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of them.

He wanted to say something, anything, but the words stuck in his throat. He cleared his throat gently, breaking the silence between you both.

"…please look at me."

As if it were an instant reaction you turned your eyes meeting Jayce's, looking at each other, you felt Jayce's hand rest on your chin, taking it, It felt so tense, so intimate, just what they should avoid, but it was so difficult, Jayce's hand gently lifted your chin, making you look directly into his eyes. The tension in the room grew thick. It's almost as if an invisible force was pulling them closer to each other despite their efforts to maintain their distance.

His thumb grazed gently across your bottom lip, feeling its softness. He could see the vulnerability in your eyes, the sweetness that was always there. He could feel his heart racing, the longing growing stronger, a shaky sigh left your lips, eyes never leaving him, you were at his mercy, and even tho you wanted to act like you wanted to avoid everything, Jayce couldn't help but stare into your eyes, captivated by their innocence and sweetness. The way you looked at him, so vulnerable and at his mercy, stirred something deep within him.

He slowly inched closer, his hand on your chin pulling you slightly towards him. His eyes flicked from your eyes to your lips, admiring the plumpness and softness of them.

He whispered, his voice rough with desire. "Please, don't look at me like that."

Rich coming from him, the one that told you to look at him. "like what?"

You felt your breath mixed with Jayce's, both were too lost to think deeply about what they were doing, looking into Jayce's eyes waiting for an answer Or maybe deep down you didn't want an answer, maybe you were just teasing, Jayce finally snapped and his mouth collided with yours on a deep kiss, full of desire, it kinda felt like an apology…The kiss was long, both of your tongues not knowing if they were dancing or fighting, saliva mixing, and soft whimpers of desperation.

When you finally broke apart, you looked into Jayce's eyes with your mouth slightly open, panting and out of breath, a thread of saliva connecting you with him, it was a visible reminder of what you had done, the evidence of their transgressions, shaky labored breathing, you both were so wrong for doing that, Jayce's eyes were filled with guilt and desire, his gaze flickering between lips and your eyes. "This is wrong," he whispered, his voice hoarse.

eyes never left Jayce's, you felt lust, excitement, fear, but still felt used, and you placed your hand on Jayce's hand that was holding your chin and whispered."You should go…"

Jayce felt the touch of your hand on his, and your words hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water, snapping him out of the moment of passion, He nodded slowly, guilt and shame washing over him. "You're right," he murmured, slowly letting go of your chin and taking a step back.

He looked at you one last time, his eyes filled with a mixture of desire and regret, before turning and heading towards the door, everything was so silent, Jayce left, and you wish you could read his mind, to know what was he thinking, and this feeling of emptiness of losing him again was like a thousand daggers on your heart, you wanted to cry, as if before everything that happened he had been yours

If there is any sort of mistake please lmk, hope you guys liked it! :3

#jayce talis #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis x y/n #arcane s2 #arcane #jayce talis x fem!reader #league of legends #angst

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adventuringblind · 1 year ago

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Baby Daddy

Lestappen x Reader

Genre: Smut

Request: Yes and I did this happily because it came from the best (Would have been happy either way but that just makes it better)

summary: Charles and Max decided to see who can get reader knocked up first.

Warnings: Breeding kink, PinV, vomiting, double penetration, teasing, praising+degrading

Notes: The author liked this one. The author will now be jumping in holy water.

masterlist

The following media is not intended for minors. Please don't interact if you're under the age of 18.

She wasn’t sure how the conversation started. She knew both boys wanted to start a family, and she was in the height of a baby fever that she can’t escape from. So, asking about it made sense.

Not that they were mad. Of course not. They just couldn’t decided who would be the one to be the biological father.

“I think we should make it a competition.” Max’s smug face makes her pale. It’s never a good sign when he brings up that word.

“Winner gets to choose the order of out last names.” Charles demands. Another argument they’d been having recently.

“What about me?! I’m the one who’s carrying the baby!”

“You can choose where yours goes no matter who wins.”

“Sounds fair to me.” She smiles with satisfaction. At least she knows there is an ungodly amount of good sex coming her way.

Three months of trying. She was sore after every race. not for the reasons of her lovers. But because of what they to do her. their competitive spits had yet to falter. Much to her benefit and pleasure.

Six months of trying and she was starting to lose confidence in herself. Her doctor said she’s fine, but it doesn’t stop the stupid thoughts because all three of them want this entirely to much.

A year and she’s given up on thinking about it. They are obviously still trying, but it’s not something that she talks about much anymore. She knows that it takes longer for some and she’s okay with that. She just avoids the subject as much as possible.

The night Max wins his second championship title is about how’d you expect it to be. Except for the part where him and Charles are in the corner with the tiniest bit of alcohol in their drinks.

They eye her in that stupid dress she knows they love, dancing rather suggestively with Kika and Lily. She’d been staying away from alcohol as of late so they know she’s not even close to tipsy. Yet the look on her face as she dances could make anyone think she was.

‘I think we should get out of here before we do something stupid.” Suggests Charles without breaking his gaze.

“Like what?”

“Take here right here and now.”

The boys startle her as they drag her away from her friends. She hardly even registers they are in the car going to the hotel. “Did I do something wrong?” The sincerity in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Max leans down to whisper in her ear. “Just thinking about getting this dress off of you."

Charles runs his fingers along her thighs, causing her to shiver. His mouth finds the crook of her neck and lays gentle kisses down to her collar bone.

She feels for the taxi driver. The poor man is subjected to whatever is happening in his back seat.

"Gonna take you home and put a baby in you." The Monegasque moans into her skin. It was making her feel in a way that had her squeezing her legs together.

They continued riling her up the entire way back to their hotel room. Even getting hands in the elevator and in the hall, which was thankfully empty.

Max gets the door to the room open. Then, the two males waste no time litterally ripping the dress off of her. Her clothes are gone in seconds.

Their hands are everywhere she doesn't want them. She's left squirming beneath their hold. Pinned to the bed in a way that leaves her more vulnerable. Every peice of herself exposed to them.

And they know exactly what they're doing.

Max runs a single finger over her slit. "Look, Charlie, I think she wanted this."

"Already so wet for us chéri." Charles moves from where he was attacking her neck down to her tits and attacks them instead. His tongue doing a number on the sensitive area.

Max slips a finger inside of her. To slow for her liking. She tries to buck her hips to get more friction only for Max's unoccupied hand to put more wait on her hips. "This is what you get for teasing us in that dress."

"Mm Maxy, think about how she'd look in the dress all swollen with our child." Charles hands barey touch her stomach, and yet it still has her back arching.

Max jumps off of her and is immediately pulling Charles up with him. He gives her a pointed look and tells her to stay.

And then their hands explore each other. Peeling each piece of clothing off the other in record time.

"If you're trying to get me to cum now to you have an advantage, it's nit going to work." Charles says as Max rolls his eyes and stops any movement he was making.

"I have an idea." Max mumbles.

"That's never a good sign."

"Well fine! I guess you don't want to hear how we could make this even."

The female looks between the two bickering and is interested in what he has to say. But also scared. Scared the she won't be able to walk for a week.

And she's right because soon enough, she is lying back against Charles with his cock inside of her. She can't stop moaning as Max leans over the top of them.

Even. She officially hates that word. And yet here she is being turned on by the fact that both boys will be inside her at the same time. Fingers crossed, they don't rip her open in the process.

"You sure you wanna try this?" Max looks at her for approval, and even with her initial fear, she knows they would never hurt her.

"Just go slow, please."

Max starts slow. Charles bites into her shoulder at the friction of her and Max. She can feel all of his muscles tensing underneath her as Max takes his sweet time pushing into her.

It hurts. She knows it won't in a couple of minutes. But right now, the stretch if it all burns like white hot fire.

When both are in her, they take care to help her relax until her body adjusts to the size. They wipe away her tears as she sinks into their hold.

"So good for us, amour. Taking both of us so beautifully." Charles exhales a breathy moan as if to further prove his point.

"Fuck schat, you look so pretty taking us so well."

And then everything went fuzzy. The friction of the two males was too much. Moving in and out in tandem; perfectly in sync with each other. Her thoughts seemed to be replaced only with them. Their breathing, the sounds, the feeling of skin on skin.

"Dobyou want it, schat? You want us to put a baby in you?"

She can't actually speak properly, but there is definitely a yes that can be heard in her moans.

Their praises are only pushing her closer to her breaking point. "I'm- please- I can't."

She doesn't even have time to warn them. She can't warn them. She can't hear them either. Her nails are buried in their skin.

They spill into her simultaneously. Their bodies are perfectly connected with each other. It feels overwhelming and terribly beautiful. The feeling of them spilling inside of her at the same time.

When they come down from the high is the hard part. Max slides out first, and Charles follows, slowly and gently. They collapse in a heap of exhaustion. The emotional tie and physical tie completely took their energy.

"Do you think maybe this time...?" She trails. Her question weighs on them.

"In time, mon amour. We'll still be here even if it's not."

Summer break is a time to recuperate. The three of you are on summer vacation, spending time together on the beach.

That night had been a month a half ago. The female had yet to realize she was late to her cycle. Opting to ignore it and assume she's just messed up for some reason.

The second to last morning of their trip, she woke up feeling absolutely terrible.

She snuck out of bed as quickly as she could without waking the boys who are much heavier sleepers than her anyway.

The nausea feeling was overpowering, and it didn't matter how stealthy she was. They woke up to the sound of her spilling the contents of her stomach.

And then every day after the the point everyone is concerned.

Two months and still no period, she finds herself at the doctors. The boys are back to racing, but with her state, she decided to stay in Monaco.

A decision she was now regretting while having the test from the doctor in her hands.

She is definitely pregnant this time. The paper in her hands says it clear as day.

It is only Friday. She has time to get out to the race to surprise them. And with that idea floating in her head, she calls Pascale.

Her and Pascale arrived to the track fifteen minutes into the race. The older woman is making a fuss over her as she tries to jog to the redbull garage. She was in Ferrari last time, and Redbull is closer to her anyway.

Pascale shakes her head as she watches the female slip into hospitality.

Max and Charles both made podium. She was absolutely ecstatic and even more so that Christian helped her get to where they would park.

They didn't notice her at first, even doing a double take at her and then each other. Then, with their helmets off, they ran to great her.

Their smiles were so big that she thought they might fall off.

They both attempted to embrace her through the divider, and she was able to slip her test results into the hand of Charles.

They looked at her skeptically before once again, having to leave her.

It wasn't until the cooldown room that they had a chance to look. Charles tentatively unfolds the paper and holds it out on front of him and Max.

The cameras got a lovely picture of the two hugging very tightly despite being 'rivals', and the happy tears from Charles could be made out even through the sweat.

Did it have people looking at the scene a little funny? Yes. She could hear the gasps of disapproval, but she didn't care. The teams know already and gave them the go-ahead over a year ago to make the relationship public.

She watches them with love and adoration.

"Definitely mine."

"No way! The baby will look like me!"

She rolls her eyes at the two. "Does it matter?" They look at her with mouths agape.

She is actively holding the paper that determines who wins. The paper that will tell them who the biological father is.

And she rips it.

Because no matter what, they are a family. The boys are looking at her endearingly despite the fact that she just took away their results. Because it doesn't matter. They are making their own little family and they couldn't be happier.

So, the argument of the last name order continues one.

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annefolklore · 2 years ago

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“We should become friends with benefits”

Pairing: Ethan Landry x Fem reader

Warnings: reader has female anatomy, oral (fem receiving), squirting, slapping (not a lot), pussy slapping (once), overstimulation

“Yes Ethan, just like that!” You scream as your grip on his hair tightens when he sucks on your bundle of nerves while swirling his tongue around it.

He was lapping at your cunt like a starved man. His hands were keeping your legs in the air while you sat on the couch in your shared appartement, him on his knees before you.

You couldn’t believe what was happening: how could your own best friend’s head be in between your fingers while he fucked you with his wet pink muscle. You were a moaning mess, completely at his mercy while he abused your core.

It happened because you were (half) joking about wanting your pussy eaten really bad and the same day, Ethan proposed to elevate you guys friendship to a more intimate and touchy level. Well in fact, y’all relationship was already really affectionate before all this.

No wonder everyone around shipped you together. You were attached to the hip, always sitting together and most of the time you were on his lap, you already slept in the same bed and even already made out!…but it was all without any feelings right?

So at the end of the day, the only things you guys have never done before was sex, but you could check it off the paper.

“You taste so fucking good baby” he moaned when he backed a bit to finger your dripping hole with his thick and long fingers.

His lower-face was shining because of your arousal and some strand of his hair were sticking to his hair because of his own sweat. His lips were parted as he breathed heavily through his mouth.

“Yeah?” Your question got strangled by a moan when he brushed your g-spot.

“So fucking fucking good” he whimpered again before spitting on your glistening cunt.

He dived back in and ate you out like his life depends on your pleasure. At this point, your eyelids were shut thight and your hips were bucking as he moved you up and down on his tongue.

You made more and more noises as his assault on your clit increased and his fingers curled way more.

His own hips were trusting unconsciously into the air to relieve his own boner that is still confined into his jeans.

The squelching sound of your vagina, your moans and the spanking sound from when Ethan slapped your inner tigh from time to time were filling the room and was melody to Ethan’s ears.

The tight knot inside you exploded when he started moaning with your clit in his mouth, sending vibrations all over the pleasure button and at the same time, his fingers hitted perfectly the squishy spot inside you.

“Yes, Ethan! Fuck!” You screamed in high pitch as the wave of your climax washed over you.

He continued to eat you out throughout your orgasm and you kept him there until your legs started shaking and it was too much for you to handle.

You tried pushing his head away and closing your thigh around it but he only opened them with force and continued to swallow every drop of nectar you could give him. He stuck his tongue inside you once again while you were still screaming of overstimulation.

You could feel something else growing inside of you as he did so. Something much stronger than the already amazing orgasm he just provided you.

He pushed you into his tongue so it could go deeper in your sweet entrance before pulling out to suck your pulsating clit once again.

That’s when the thing inside you snapped and a clear liquid rushed out of you, asperging Ethan. He backed his head from your pussy and instead his fingers started rubbing on it, fast as more juice squirted out of you as you screamed his name.

You felt tears in your eyes at this point and your moans transformed to sobs.

Ethan was enjoying this way more than he should. His best friend was beneath him, completely at his mercy and crying of pleasure under his touch. His face, hands and forearm were wet because of you and he couldn’t be happier than that.

“Pleas-e stop” you begged as tears rolled down your cheeks and Ethan forced you to stay high into your orgasm.

He only chuckled before giving your core a light slap and finally removing his hand from you.

You were amazed at what Ethan has just done to you. You weren’t expecting that to happen at all. You thought he would only give you an orgasm, nothing special…but this? Your best friend just made you cry of pleasure and made you squirt for the first time.

You could feel your heartbeat on your abused pussy while your clit was pulsating like crazy and your legs still shaking.

“Look at the mess you made,” he laughed while looking at the bed sheets.

He was right, under you was a big wet spot on the bed. You tried to move but your shaking legs thought otherwise.

You laid back down on the bed and wiped your tears away, not knowing what to think of what you just did.

“Honestly, that was fucking hot” Ethan said and you looked at him only to find him sucking your liquid on his fingers.

“Don’t do this” you whispered as you looked at him sucking a second finger.

“Why not? You taste amazing” he asked before lowering himself until he was kissing you.

You immediately returned his kiss and enrolled your legs around his waist to press him against you.

“We should become friends with benefits” he says when he backs up to breath.

“Eth, the way you just ate my pussy already spoke for you. Of course we are now” you answer.

He smirked before lowering himself again to continue your make out session.

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hannieehaee · 2 months ago

Note

Hey I love your fics thank you for your hard work 💗🎀✨ I have a fic request if you can do this........ Idol jun is FWB with co worker of same company but because of his schedules they can't meet eo. So they fuck eo in lift....

18+ / mdi

content: idol!jun x idol!reader, fwb dynamic, semi-public sex, friendly banter, afab reader, smut, fingering, kissing, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 953

a/n: i decided to go for idols in the same company bc thats fun for some reason<3 anyways so sorry i took literal months for get to this!!

masterlist

"you've got to stop doing this," you mumbled in between kisses, hands on his chest to keep him pressed up against the wall.

"me? you're the one who has me pinned," he argued back, not at all fighting back against his current position.

"may i remind you of last week when you had me bent over the couch in an empty office?"

god, even thinking about it had you wanting to drag him over to your apartment, damning any other schedule you had left for the day.

but no, this tiny window of time was the only part of the day in which you could see each other these days. well, see each other in this way. working within the same company, you actually saw jun more than you even saw your own family.

"don't remind me," he groaned, "wanted to take you home after that."

at least the feeling was mutual.

throughout your back and forth, the touches never ceased, and neither did the kissing. maybe you should've been more worried about being caught in the elevator, but to be fair, this one was only used my maintenance, who did not show up on weekdays. you were most likely safe from any intruders.

"well, you can't take me home. i'm mid comeback, i cant even see my home," you mumbled, hands unbuttoning his shirt.

"why are you getting me undressed if we have no time, then?"

"want a nice view. now shut it, moon," you grumbled, letting your hands feel up his sculpted chest.

he chuckled, but he mirrored your sentiment as he lifted up your tank top, giving himself the perfect view of your bra-less chest.

"fuck. no bra? at work?"

"all i have is fixing up some vocals and dance practice for today. didn't seem necessary," you replied as you kissed at his neck, "plus, i was expecting this."

"oh, so it's for my benefit?" his eyes and hands were glued to your tits, so yes.

you didn't dignify that with a response, instead moving onto his trousers, unbuckling them loose enough to get his dick out of his boxers and onto your needy hands. working him into full hardness wasnt hard. all it usually took was some lubrication from his precum and a few heavy kisses, both which you were already on.

"hmph, baby, c'mon, against the wall," his large hands moved you, taking your hold away from his dick and placing you against the wall, back facing him.

you knew what was coming, so you let your ass stick out a bit, wiggling it teasingly to dare him to move on with it. the response you got was a groan and a hand sneaking between you and the wall to pinch at your nipple in defiance.

what followed after that was even more ruffling of clothes, leaving your lower half uncovered and ready for him.

"god, i love taking you like this. are you wet enough, baby?" he asked despite checking for himself a mere seconds later, finding the wetness between your legs dripping down the inside of your thighs, "fuck, all this from kissing?"

you could hear the smugness in his voice, but you chose to ignore it. it was true, you were feeling incredibly needy and sensitive. all you wanted right now was for him to be inside you. so you did what you knew he wanted from you.

you begged.

"please, junnie ... need it so bad."

he nosed at your ear, kissing at it before finally entering you, groaning directly into your ear at the tightness surrounding him.

"god, how are you this tight every fucking time," he sighed out, "so fucking good for me."

then the senseless slapping of skin began, his hips canting against your ass as you used your weakened arms to hold yourself up against the wall. the position was slightly uncomfortable, but the feeling of jun filling you up so perfectly distracted you from any discomfort.

"f-faster, junnie," you pleaded.

and as per usual, your wish was his command. his hips sped up, just as his fervor doubled. the time crunch added to the shared desperation, creating a disgusting harmony of muffled moans and sweaty skin slapping in the small elevator.

jun's hand made its way away from your hip and found a place in your front, long fingers squeezing and circling at your swollen clit. your eyebrows furrowed, and you had to bite your hand to avoid the scream you wanted to let out. jun sensed it and chuckled breathlessly into your hair, to which you responded by squeezing around him.

your battle to make the other cum came to a crescendo almost simultaneously. it was you who lost this round, choking on hiccuped moans as your high invaded your body.

"god, baby, that's so fucking tight. gonna cum too, shit. take it for me, yeah?"

and that's how he filled you up, hips never giving up until he gave you his very last drop.

when he pulled out, you turned around again, only to be caught in another heavy kiss. the two of you indulged in it for a bit before your phone began ringing, making a groan separate you.

"it's probably my manager," you sighed, ignoring the call, "i have to go. i need to stop by the bathroom to clean up the mess you left in me," you feigned annoyance as you made quick work of fixing your clothes.

"you literally asked for it."

true, but complaining was still fun.

you helped him get dressed too, giving him one last peck as a goodbye before peeking outside for any passerby's.

"we're in the clear," you turned to him, "tomorrow, same time?"

he chucked, "i'll be waiting."

#seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen oneshot #seventeen #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt oneshot #jun fanfic #jun x reader #jun smut #jun oneshot #jun imagines #jun scenarios

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therealslimshakespeare · 6 months ago

Text

|| Sanchez ||

Requested? ☑️

Circa: October 1943

Summary: Upon being shot down on his last mission, Major Gale Cleven finds himself in the company of a female officer -and not one from the 100th. While already inclined to show solidarity, the increasing threat towards his fellow officer forces him to act. The jeopardy such action puts him in is more than he could have ever estimated, as is the fallout upon finding women he knows in the stalag

Cast: Cleven, Sanchez, Demarco, Brady, Egan, Kendeigh, Lu Smith, Ida Brady

Author’s note: the first portion of this segment is in the immediate time frame of Gale being downed. The second portion follows the events of What Took Him So Long? the mirroring of both these segments will hopefully prove enjoyable but I worry perhaps confusing

Content Warning: due to the disturbing content listed below the cut, I understand some may choose not to read this segment. If you’d like an abridged summary of the events herein to keep up with the series, I’d be happy to supply that 💋🌹

Warnings: usual universe warnings apply 18+ additionally for this chapter there are warnings for depiction of rape. This entire arc was produced on popular request, i have tried to portray the brutal events found herein in the most elevated and respectful terms I found effective. I would not call it graphic, however, it’s not vague either. And it’s rape. Male and female. Depiction of rape and discussion of past rape. Violence as well, obviously, fucking Nazis, ptsd from said assaults, choking, hints of childhood trauma, mentions of medical experiments. General cloud of dread. With light at the end of the tunnel.

Note: my blog and writings are strictly 18+, this means that we are all adults here enjoying free connection and art. The themes of this particular story are mature, at times harrowing and for some, potentially intolerable. No worries if the latter is your case, feel free to move on or block tags. On the other hand, please take responsibility for your reading, I provide warnings as a courtesy but I cannot cover them all and if something doesn’t sit right, please exercise adult autonomy and make your way to the nearest exit. Xo

When Gale extended his hand to aid the next prisoner up into the truck, he hadn't anticipated one so small or so brown. Busted knuckles that had rivulets of crimson pouring over copper flesh; he was mildly fascinated by it. His concussed mind flashed to ‘Lu Smith and her shaded face, before belatedly realizing it was indeed a woman’s lighter frame he was hauling in beside him to the shrill insistence of German threats.

The woman who flopped on the bench opposite him, legs spread wide and boots braced with a brow like a thundercloud, was not Smith. And for that Cleven was relieved.

Last he had seen of Ida and Graham’s fort, they’d been carrying on over Breman, and while he had every reason to think few had made it back, who’s to say they weren’t lucky? And Ida could fly a tin can on the fumes of an alcoholic's breath. Smith wasn’t here, Ida either, and he tried to arrange his mind to that, to not even let the doubt creep in, and instead took to studying the newcomer in between the passing of more downed airmen filling the benches.

The incessant barking of their dogs must have been half strategy, the throbbing in his back working its way into his head as the minutes went by. It had taken too long for them to be brought to Luftwaffe jurisdiction, he knew that much, even with giving them the benefit of the doubt for wartime communication failures and muddy roads. He’d been well read and prepared and braced for the outcome of being downed since before they left the states, grilled his men on procedure, on their rights, their privileges as prisoners of war, also on their duties to silence. The fact he’d never truly thought it would happen to him didn’t mean he wasn’t perfectly knowledgeable about the requirements.

So far Cleven had managed not to say a single word to anyone, the farmer with the pitchfork probably didn’t speak English and a wheezy “please don’t kill me” seemed like a flaccid bunch of last words that Gale refused to let off his tongue.

Instead he let them haul him to the nearest company of Wehrmacht soldiers and had been marched for ages by them, had seen and given Benny a nod when his column of prodded, sheepskin wearing sad bastards merged with Buck’s column of the same. Kendeigh hadn’t been there; crew get themselves killed in a hard landing as often as an exploded plane.

Cleven thought about breaking the silence now to ask the woman opposite where the hell she came from, her patches not what he was used to. But no, bad precedent, he stayed quiet and watchful as the Krauts pushed the last of the men into the overcrowded truck and snapped the tailgate shut. Someone could easily make a run for it by jumping out, but the jeep following behind at a steady few yards with a bristling assortment of machine guns suggested against it.

Once the truck began to move, Benny leaned forward beside him on their jostling journey and motioned in an ingratiating arc at the woman’s patches. “I don’t know those.” he said what Gale had been thinking, half yelling over the clamor of voices and the roar of the truck engine, “Looks half like varsity shit.”

Gale wasn’t sure his kindhearted co-Pilot meant those sorts of digs out of innocence or as a tactic to get reticent folks to defend themselves with the very information they might has previously withheld. As said, Gale didn’t know, but he knew it never failed. The woman went from scowling at Cleven -a pastime she had set herself to with such diligence that every time he tried to make discreet observance of her she already had her eyes on him- and turned to Benny.

“201st, fighters.” well that explained nothing and everything. “Sanchez.” she offered Benny after a beat, maybe knowing her name was hardly damning considering her looks.

Kinda like how Benny looked and sounded likely to have a name that started with “De-“ and a dog named meatball. “Eagle Wings, huh?” Benny nodded at the patch. “And a uh, uh triangle.” he couldn’t make it out all the way from his seat, but Buck could -the patch read ‘Mexico’ above a magnificent spread of Eagle Wings with a green triangle as the body.

They were all a long way from home.

“Aztec,” Sanchez tweaked it, “Aztec Eagles.”

“Mexican?” Benny asked, the accent wasn’t one he commonly heard in Philly but even crappy shows and movies got some things right, and Benny had seen his fair share of westerns.

“Sanchez.” she repeated instead and was back to scowling at Buck.

They seemed to drive for all day, until the light began to dim and what was a pleasant day turned into a misty chill as evening grew near.

The truck came to a halt at last, barbed wire and mud about them and the painted checkpoint arm whirled by as they drove into the dulag and came to a final stop. In the quiet that followed the cut of the engines, the rain was suddenly audible, pattering on the canvas above them. At the resumption of barked order and harsh commands the prisoners stood up, gingerly hopping out of the truck with just enough quickness not to be hit and just enough slowness not to be shot. Didn't help much anyway, muzzles were pointed quite liberally around here and you just had to hope the trigger fingers weren’t so generous.

The dulag guards turned away a good seven of those remaining after the packed truck had dispensed its human cargo. They didn't have enough room.

Go up further, to the next one, go to Frankfurt -those seemed to be the directions.

Directions their drivers and guards took poorly; it was late, it was drizzling and Buck could guess how little they enjoyed the on-edge detail of ferrying outnumbering prisoners around the countryside. They cut down on the number of guards, five to go with: a driver, two in the jeep, one more in the cab and another supposed to be with them in the truck back.

After a bit more haggling, the Dulag accepted three more prisoners. Cleven made sure to stay put, he didn’t know the foreign arguments well enough to decipher all but half the protesting seemed to be over who got Sanchez. And he sure as hell wasn’t leaving her here without a superior officer as defense. A dulag guard had hopped up into the truck and shined his flashlight at Buck’s markings, that’s when he mentioned something about Frankfurt.

Benny didn’t move without Cleven and so, when the truck took off again into the evening gloom, it was Buck and Benny and Sanchez and another hapless kid who looked all of fifteen and was, according to his over liberal offer of conversation, a scared shitless waist gunner.

“They’re arguing over you.” Cleven finally chose to speak up. It could get rough, the guards’ distinction of her. He felt it with a premonitory dread that came from too many right predictions as a child. He hated this feeling, he hated how right it usually was, he hated how it was usually met with folks telling him he worried too much. He’d taken to not saying much the older he grew, watching things play out, grieving over foreseen misfortunes all on his own. Until he met Bucky. But right now he had to speak up, this time he had to.

Yet Sanchez remained scowling, “They argued over you.” she retorted.

Gale gave her a tight smile, “I’m a major.”

“I’m a lieutenant.”

“I can see that.” he proceeded cautiously, “But they just took in a baker's dozen of lieutenants. No problem. But they didn’t take you.”

“Didn’t take him either.” she nodded to Benny.

“His captain’s ass never left the seat.” Cleven said, “You were on the ground, ready, they put you back. I’m tellin’ you, if they can’t decide who you are, where you go, I’m gonna need your assurance you’ll fight like hell with me. For recognition of it.”

-Just don’t say I worry too much, Gale thought desperately, he could almost feel Bucky’s gentle squeeze of his shoulder, like shaking out the tension in a cat as he said the same; his back was so stiff he thought it might snap if Bucky did it now but -but John wasn’t here. Thank Almighty God.

“You know you look more German than most of our guards.” Sanchez replied and Benny suddenly snapped to attention beside him at that. “I’m not assuring you of shit.”

“He’s not a damn spy!” Benny insisted, more loudly and vehemently than was maybe best with guards all around.

“You know this how?” she asked, unmoved.

“He’s my goddamn co-Pilot.”

“Pilot?”

“Ya think he just ripped his own cheek open for a part?”

Sanchez swayed with the jerk of a pothole and shook her head, “Maybe you both are.”

Smart, and a worse worrier than himself. Cleven liked her immensely and stared out the flap of the tarp, watching the rain pour down, dusk fully settling over everything outside and the trailing jeep’s headlights poured into their little haven, whiting-out his vision of the road.

“I’m not leavin’ this seat ‘till a Dulag takes you.” he told her, it was all he had to give. For her part she seemed determined to wait and see before expending any thanks. He didn’t expect it.

They weren’t in any city when the truck brakes checked them in a squeaking lurch, followed by the sound of tires turning off gravel and into squelching mud and then the echoing silence of the engine being cut once more. This wasn’t Frankfurt, and this was no engine failure. From the headlights of the following jeep, all Gale could make out was trees. So many damn trees. It had stopped raining.

“This isn’t Frankfurt.” He remarked to the guard sitting with them, the sullen fellow had not said a word for five hours and he didn’t start spilling now.

The others made an appearance when they joined them in the truck, hopping up with muddy jackboots and the clatter of what seemed to be a portable camp stove, along with rucksacks, utensils and the like. They unwound rope from the cloth neck of one sack and poured out oats, and another seemed to have been wrapping some preserved sort of meat. Gale eyed the discarded rope where it lay on the floor with the lust of a man used to working with what he was given, while Benny stared with barely concealed longing at the now simmering concoction on the tin stove.

These guards made conversation, or at least they tried. But not even the scared little gunner was in the mood to reply, and so it remained one sided. His boys hadn’t eaten since chow this morning at the crack of dawn, and Cleven didn’t blame them for their hunger but his own stomach was in loathsome, uneasy knots, and by observance of Sanchez’s wary sullenness, he figured he wasn’t alone in that. A dinner break for the Germans was one thing, he guessed, but the solitude was oppressive along with the forced proximity of all these grinning enemies stirring and chopping their porridge bits and laughing amongst themselves on the benches and floor next to them.

When they offered Demarco a hunk of whatever they had prepared, to his credit, Benny didn’t even acknowledge them. Their offer had been mocking enough, even without understanding the language.

“You must be hungry, ja?” The one with sergeant stripes cajoled, greasy teeth flashing, the muggy smells of rain and sweat and steaming food were all so noxiously trapped under the tarp, Gale had to bite his cheek to keep down the salient precursors of vomit.

The sergeant tried it on Sanchez next, insistently holding out a hunk of the meat impaled on the knife tip. She wouldn’t even look at him and that was an admirable thing until it served to anger him, and the man reached out, hand snagging in her waistband and hauling her smaller body beside him on the bench with ease. Benny was almost to his feet when Cleven fetched him back with a grip of his own, sitting him down firmly.

He managed to keep his voice perfectly neutral when interrupting the man’s flashlight lit perusal of Sanchez’s frozen features, “Hey, she doesn’t mean any harm, you let her go now.”

The sergeant looked up, less surprised to have gained a reaction from Gale but maybe at hearing his voice at last. “Only trying to be good hosts, ja? She von’t eat. Neither you?”

“Just not hungry.” Gale countered mildly.

“But ve must thank you,” the Sergeant laughed, and Sanchez stayed stiff as board in his grip, shying away from the still offered meat as much as the touch “so many parcels of gifts you drop.”

“Let her go.” Gale insisted, gently.

“She not drop zeez parcels?” The sergeant asked.

“She’s not a bomber.” Gale grit his teeth, “I do the dropping.”

The sergeant pulled her jacket apart in curiosity, thumbing at the patches, “Not’z a bomber?” Cleven felt his tongue go numb as the man tugged at her clothes, it was a curious inspection so far and yet- “Then it’s you should be given meat, ja?” The man left off his tugging and rose from his squat on the floor to approach Gale, the man was huge upon closer acquaintance, “For Hamburg,” he insisted through gritted teeth, his anger more palpable up close, and he pressed the meat to Gale’s tightly shut mouth, “and for ze little ones you turned to ash with your parcels.”

Gale kept his jaw locked and his mouth shut, eyes meeting the sergeants’, unblinking and unsorry.

“Open!”

Gale didn’t obey. The man sighed as if he were actually a host turned down. Gale could feel Benny’s eyes on him, wary, careful, his whole posture shockingly good at blending in, a damn good man to have next to you in a place like this.

“We have no beer,” the man confessed, knife and meat still pressing insistently, “or else we would offer it for such heroes. But not to fret, you have provided refreshment, ja? Full belly and beer iz ze best, full belly and a voman iz better.”

Carefully Gale turned his head away from the offered chunk, “That's a prisoner of war, not a woman.” He saw how little effect that had and added for benefit, “And your superiors are waiting for her.”

The man scoffed loudly and turned towards his men who were, Gale could now perceive past his bulk, scraping the last of their tin plates without so much as looking at the bowls -they were eying her. With intent. The kind of intent Gale wished he didn’t recognize but he did, carnival dins and race tracks after dark being hardly the best places to grow up unless you wanted to learn how often folks really would act on their worst impulses.

Not tonight, not if he could fucking help it. By Benny’s taut posture beside him, he knew he had an ally in the assumption that this would end in a fight. He eyed the rope lying on the floor.

“Eat with us.” The sergeant insisted, “She von’t be alive to tell on you, prisoners make a run for it all ze time. Must be shot. Ve’ll let you fuck her too.”

Oh Jesus- “Your superiors know-“ Cleven reminded, voice starting to shake in rage from the keyed up adrenaline he was barely keeping a lid on.

“-zey know emergencies happen.” The man snapped, almost annoyed at Gale’s persistence, as if he expected less protest from an airman at the prospect of one of his own being abused. “Zey would send more guards if zey cared as much as you ‘sink.”

The men had finished their bowls, they set them aside on the bench, pushing the stove away as well. Clearing the floor.

“Or fuck, oh fuck.” the gunner kid, who Gale had almost forgotten about on his end of the bench, began to panic, sounding like he was retching his prayers.

Gale met Benny’s eyes, then down to the rope on the floor, then back up. It was good to have a man who got it. Always got it, his Benny.

“Can I go first.” Gale asked, and held his breath.

“Vat?” The sergeant lowered the knife in surprise, the meat chunk slid and fell to the floor but neither cared.

Gale let his lips twitch, his eyes conspired, “I don’t wanna catch whatever shit you fuckers got.”

He could hear more than see Sanchez begin the thrash on her bench but she made no progress, maybe already being held. “And you von’t tell?” the sergeant asked.

Gale gave him a look that could be universally interpreted as ‘whadda ya think?’ and bent to retrieve the meat nugget from the muddy floor, right by the sergeant’s boot, the rope was just out of reach. When he straightened his back he popped the soiled peace offering in his mouth, he chewed it loudly, the rush of an imminent attempt thrumming so strongly in his body it replaced the queasiness for a moment. The sergeant clapped his hands together, once, in appreciation for the despicable deal.

Gale knew they wanted nothing more than sport of him, it was no comradely favor to allow him to go first, it was blackmail and it was likely something worse once he got his pants down. But they could all play along, he just needed to get close to her. They had her jacket off already, her boots, too.

This didn’t really have a chance in hell but if she was like Ida, or Smith or anyone else, she’d rather be shot barefoot than have this happen to her. Gale supposed dying with German ham stuck in his teeth was about a draw with being killed via pitchfork prongs through the belly.

He didn’t process much when he stood up: not beyond the two paces it took to get to her, the men holding her on the bench seat and wrestling at her clothes, the way Benny didn’t say a word. He really was thinking of Benny in those paces, hoping his co-pilot was ready -it didn’t occur to him even once that Demarco might be as fooled as these sick fucks around them, letting go of her all too quickly at the prospect of a degrading show.

Cleven had his hand around her necktie, pulling her off the bench before he’d even really registered being close enough, he’d forgotten how to hold his face for this act but maybe the mad determination passed for lust, he didn’t think of anything but yanking her up when he felt a sudden, stinging slice against his right cheek. She’d been waiting for this moment, smart thing had a penknife hidden somewhere, it was something one of the Banshees would have pulled, and the mirroring slice was disorienting enough that he wasted a good two seconds in smarting surprise as warm blood trickled down his chin and the guards began to shout.

Someone else wrested the knife from her grip, someone else held onto her wrist now, his moment of shocked pain wasted his fucking plan.

Still, he tried.

Cleven yanked her further toward the middle of the space, spun her around despite her incessant clawing -and maybe the actions seemed to the guards in accordance with his plan, plus some anger from the wound. He didn’t know what they thought, he only knew that no one halted him, they just gathered closer to see, never expecting it, just as he didn’t expect to manage it when he got her turned to the open flap of the tarp and bodily hurled her out its back, into the night.

Benny must’ve tripped the first one, a clunky helmet clattering as the guy fell flat at Cleven’s feet, right as he turned around to help. It wasn’t ever gonna be a nice fight, or a likely chance for her to have even a ten second start but it was something besides sitting on a bench and watching them violate a fellow officer. He’d have done the same for Benny. Just as Benny now looked pretty resigned to dying in this fight, getting in a couple of excellent, unapologetic punches with the next guard who manned up and realized what was what. -It’s gotta be a let down to be keyed up for a nice orgy in the woods only to end up having to play guard again. Gale wanted to manage to kill one before he got shot, that’s all he really wanted anymore.

And for the girl to get out, for all the girls to get out wherever they were.

He was grappling with the closest one, the guy nearest the flap who almost managed to give chase to her right away, when he felt something that gave him a chill of horror he never expected. Rope; he registered it slipping down his chin, making him let go of his opponent to try to slip his fingers between the twine and his collared throat -too late. He felt himself bodily yanked back, a burn in his throat all consuming and the sudden deprivation of air turning him into a desperate mess, nothing useful about his scuffing feet and clawing hands.

They were giving orders to go after her, and two men were scrambling out the back as Gale began to sag. From his new position gasping on the floor, Gale could see that they had a gun to Benny’s gut, while the gunner kid hadn’t needed such firmness, he was braced at the back of the truck in absolute terror.

Well this was over faster than desired but -to be expected. Fuck.

“Halt.” Cleven felt the sergeant’s boot kick at the side of his head, emphasizing his order to cease his struggles.

World grew fuzzy then, not at all like drowsy sleepiness in a hammock but instead like being caught in the river current when you thought you’d managed to strike the ford just right. Gale’s pulse thudded between his temples like the blows of a sledgehammer on his skull, his lungs burned, the cuts on his cheeks blared their pain like screaming infants demanding to be heard above the rest of the pain and terror and fury. He could taste the blood gushing out of them from the pressure, the cuts spurted and dribbled down into his already choking mouth.

What a way to go.

He felt cold air, he felt himself drug and a painful drop to what was likely muddy ground, felt himself dragged some more and his own finger -wedged between the rope and his throat- hurt him worst of all, that knuckle digging into his windpipe.

When some slack finally came, it was minimal, only enough for his body to heave and gag and try to force air into collapsed pipes, enough for sounds of cries and shots and clanking metal to flood into his consciousness. He was either at heaven’s gate or on the cold hard ground at eye level with the beaming jeep headlights -that would explain the blinding glow in his vision.

Or else, heaven wasn’t half what it was cracked up to be.

Someone or a few someone’s, were standing over him and he could see then that he was tied by the makeshift noose to the trailer hitch of the truck, tarp flaps widened far above him like stage drapes. Was Benny still alive in there?

“Maybe you defend her because you too are female?” One guard suggested while prodding at his crotch with a boot, and that made Gale’s frozen, sluggish, oxygen deprived blood begin to pound. “Hübsch.” they complimented him repeatedly -pretty, so very pretty. Too pretty for a man. “We should check, ja?”

He spared one single hope, that Benny wasn’t watching. He didn’t hope they wouldn’t act on their threats, and he hadn’t any hope left that he could actually save Sanchez from what they were even now wrestling her to the ground for. But it felt worsened somehow at the idea of his co-pilot seeing him this way, he yanked his head against the noose and regretted it after. The constriction made his eyes burn, and all his efforts were once again concentrated on grappling with his breathing as they tugged at his clothes and made sport of discovering he was not, in fact, lying about being male.

They laughed, they touched, they said he was some mistake. A face like that had no business owning a cock. He wished he knew less German, in fact he knew little but there are kindnesses and there are cruelties that need no articulation to be understood.

The earth beside him, the mud beneath Sanchez’s hands, was tilled up from her nails, like furrows for planting and her face was so near his when they threw her down, he could make out the spit and blood on her lips.

“Should I?” One was saying and they had their knife out, Gale’s panicked mind had a generous moment of hope that they would cut the rope, that he would soon be able to breathe again. Or else his throat, and he’d not breathe anymore. Both sounded perfect.

They cut open his flight suit instead, a hand heavy on the back of his head, turning him fully over, and then there was the feeling of a warm and sweaty body beginning to roll on top of him.

The mud was cold beneath his cheek, smooth on the forest floor, none of the rough gravel of that endless road, only mud and pine needles sticking to his face now, their knobby little ends roughing up the older wound on his cheek. Every time the guard pushed closer, it scraped him -that blade to his other cheek. The metal tip glittered in the periphery of his one good eye, shining from the headlights.

Sanchez had begun to scream.

Hoarse, wounded, fox like.

It felt very much like a demented dream, even down to the hunter’s attitude above him, the grunts, the prey-like waiting for the lethal blow. He wasn’t sure how long he had floated with only her wounded cries as a grounding agent when he felt a splatter against his lower back and consciousness came back with a heave of his chest and a revolt so strong he fought again against the noose. Predictably, it only tightened. There was cold on his skin then, when the man drew away, fresh night breezes mocking the mess he’d made of Gale, kerosene and exhaust fumes ruining the smell of soil beneath him. Then the heat was back, someone else draped over him, and Gale dug his fingers into the earth too, readying for what the other had spared him. It didn’t matter, if they tired themselves out with him, that was one less -now two less- to use her instead. There had been only five.

This one flipped him over, Gale went easily, both hands occupied straining to get even a finger between the asphyxiating pressure of the rope and his throat.

“He is easier now.” he heard the man laughing, foggy, hazy, unfairly. “The bitch has gone quiet, maybe he will make music, huh?”

Gale frantically turned his head to seek her out, desperate to find her alive -she couldn’t be dead. Not just from this, surely not, what could they do to kill her?-but his own vision was spotting and his throat spasmed in protest. They surely could kill them this way, they could do anything they wanted because they could kill them. And no one would ever hold them to account.

His poor girls. What were they doing to his poor girls?

It burned enough to jolt him awake again, both the forceful entry and the smack to his cut cheek. They wanted him awake, aware, he refused to look at them. This was reminiscent, bright lights and unwanted hands and all but the carnival music missing. He kept staring to the side at her, and at her face, at the way the headlights lit them both up like a carnival spectacle and cast the shadows of their tormentors in looming, grotesque proportions against the treeline. She had her eyes closed, face almost suffocated in the soil, balled fist growing lax beside his own, just out of reach. She didn’t even react when the next replaced the other. There were only five, Gale repeated to himself, there were only five.

No, no, no.

“Smith,” he begged her, “Smith don’t fuckin’ give up on me now.”

His poor girls.

Gale’s own voice made him cringe, how hoarse it was, how young, what a beg it sounded like, how punctuated each word was with the winding pain of a fresh thrust. But her eyes flew open at his call.

Sanchez, her name was Sanchez, he reminded himself. And Smith was with Ida, probably throwing the ball at the flack house after making it back from Breman. She had to be. He didn’t want to live in a world where Lu felt what he felt now as the man shuddered inside him, used him like a skein, a shell, a vessel, hot breath stinging at his cuts.

“Stay with me Sanchez.” he muttered, wondering if he had it in him to do the same. He didn’t have the luxury of ignoring his tormenter any longer, he felt his face gripped and turned, cuts smarting beneath calloused fingertips, cheeks being squished like Bucky used to do in play. The yeasty splatter spit landing on his own tongue was somehow more revolting than all the rest. He gagged, he struggled, his body was on fire.

Smith was screaming again.

There were only five.

He refused to remember more until there was a sudden absence of the heat and the breath and the tearing pain, and if he wasn’t so drugged on misery he might have thought everyone seemed a little rushed at the end. Not how he expected them to be with all the time in the world to wipe their pricks, close their pants, pull out a pistol and deliver a headshot. One apiece here in the mud. See ya there, Benny, he thought dismally, not bothering to open his eyes.

But then there were sounds of squealing tires and the roar of engines and the white bright glow behind his eyelids grew in intensity until he realized -in a fumbled state of what felt like being redressed- that someone else had pulled up to this horror show. There’d only been five and now- now, oh fuck, he didn’t think he could, no, no, no, he yanked at his noose, half hoping to strangle himself or at least be caught fighting this.

If he didn’t know much German when lucid and keen, he certainly wasn’t adept at deciphering the angry babble above him when half dead, half uncaring about listening for an order to flip him over for the next or to blow his brains out. No, no he was far away in the Silver Wings and Maureen’s boot was dug into his shoulder as she turned himself and Egan into scaffolding, all to smoke the club’s ceiling with testament of their survival for their 20th. No big bash like for 25 but it had been a milestone, as terrifyingly hopeful as it had been all too fortunate. He’d seen her cry for the first time that night, hands shaking, admitting she felt in her bones they’d not be lucky, that she’d never really thought about this part, not when she joined up, about getting so close and now she wanted to see it through she was sick to death of the idea of seeing it though being a fiery death. Well, Gale knew now she’d managed to jump, she’d not known fire.

But what else, oh what else?

Next time Cleven woke he was face down on the same old bench seat from hours before, burning ribs nothing compared to the lapping flames below his waist. The truck beneath him was moving and his cut face was only partially gentled by the feel of someone’s meaty thigh beneath him. Horrified, he startled up, hating the idea of being someone’s pet after-

-but it was Benny, looking busted as hell but alive and holding onto him lest he jolt off the bench with the next pothole. As far as he could feel, Gale had his clothes on, muddy and cold and it was daylight and they were moving. A guard he didn’t recognize was on the opposite bench near the flaps, watching them curiously with a rifle slung easily over his lap. He had wings on his lapel.

Sanchez was sat as far from him as possible near the front of the truck, alive and looking for all the world like she might kill the sniffling and unharmed gunner on the floor.

“Luftwaffe.” Benny informed him and Gale winced at their good fortune before giving his friend a pat and letting the sludge of insensibility take over again.

————————————————

“What was done to you: I am horrified.” Lt. Hausmann’s eyes were warm but his smile was cold, as cold as the holding cells, an odd dichotomy, opposite to most but not foreign to Gale. “I have heard they had intentions to hang you, yes? You, a prisoner of war. An officer. Horrifying, base, cowardly, I can only apologize for my countrymen’s attitude, they will be held to account. Was there anything else? I shall make a note. Are you well? Was there anything else?”

“There was a fighter pilot with me.” Cleven did not miss the eagerness in the man’s body language when he let loose his voice at last, hoarse from the rope and suppression of his cries. He’d been sat at this frigid desk with its proffered whiskey and smokes for half an hour already. “She was brutally raped, Lieutenant. And it is my understanding she is under Luftwaffe command now. Held here. I’d like you to make note of both, treat her accordingly.”

“Appalling.” Haussmann insisted, pen scritching away at his pad, “Noted, I-i will see that they are brought to account. Appalling. And you, Major, were you treated well? Besides your throat, I mean. Satisfactory? Honorably? I will make a note.”

The gnawed and broken thumbnail he’d bitten off hours ago slipped from between Gale’s molars. His teeth grated against each other for a split second. It was the only sound that filled the room. There’d been only five.

He passed Benny in the hall when they drug him back to his cell. But he never saw Sanchez again.

———————————————-

He didn’t see Sanchez again, not until a month later when she came with Smith. And all the others. Not until after a month of a John Brady biting through his lips with well placed anxiety over the absence of their female fellows. A month of Gale acting like he actually thought they were alright. As far as he knew, the boy’s sister was fine. Until she came through that gate, head shorn, cheek disfigured, half her buttons missing and a look in her eye that was half fury, half woe.

He was angry for Ida, but she didn’t belong trapped in a dog run with all these men. So Gale protested.

“If it can happen to you-“ John Brady had the gall to suggest at the gate, to suggest something Cleven had never confirmed. But Brady was like that, and Cleven had stopped his fight against the girls' inclusion all the same. Perhaps his fight had been less about the rules being broken, and more at the idea of having to see any more of their mistreatment, being witness to it, his rank proving useless once more. Never again. Not if he had to barter the golden gates for their safety.

———————————————--

“You ok?” Cleven asked Brady on the second day after their arrival as he counted out the syringes on the rough hewn table, one by one. He didn’t doubt the kid’s promise to get the supplies but instead the stalag doctor’s elusive provisions and willingness to comply. But sure enough, there was one for each of the girls, and a spare.

Brady gave him a tight lipped nod before expounding, “Sunnuvbitch wouldn’t dish on the iodine, I could see the damn relief package right there behind him but -no swabs. Dry stab. I guess.”

“It’s ok.” Cleven insisted, eyeing him still; he had his coat bundled about him even indoors but the buttons of his shirt beneath were redone, Gale knew that because they skipped one and started again wonky, wrong buttonhole, twice over. Like they’d been redone in haste. It hadn’t been that way when he left. “These are what we need.” he glanced up from his task at Hambone who was animatedly informing Benny of his visit.

Cleven had tried at subtlety, listening in with discretion but he couldn’t help it anymore, too curious himself. “You went with him, yeah?”

“Yes sir.” Hambone gestured to his newly smoothe cheek, stitches gone.

“So, what’s he like? The doc?”

Hamilton gave a signature sneer, “Weird as fuck and a little weirder than that. Wouldn’t fuckin’ shut up.”

“Yeah? What about?”

“Yeah!” Hamilton insisted, pissed off by it apparently, “On and on about psy- psycho -sam-“

“psychosomatic.” Brady rescued him boredly.

“-reflexes and shit. On and on. Just want the stitches out, ya know?”

“Yeah.” Cleven agreed. Waiting for the shoe to drop. He stared at the extra shot, his stomach curdling. “Just want some shots.” he added, eyes drifting up to land on Brady and his sightless stare at the opposite wall that bunked his motionless sister.

“Yeah, that was a whole other debacle.”

“Oh?” Cleven prodded, the picture of nonchalance as he started to divide the shots into groupings. He was seeing things, he was projecting, he was doing what Egan told him not to ever do -assume what has been is now what is. What he’s experienced is what everyone else has. He knew that deep down, but there was a brittle bravery to Jack Brady these days that reminded Gale too much of his own fraudulent brand of survival.

“Hammy it’s- how about you leave off.” Brady muttured. “Don’t bother the major with it.”

“Weird as fuck.” Hambone confirmed stubbornly.

“I’m the one who asked you if you thought he was weird.” Brady corrected, irritated enough by impression to continue.

“And it was! I said he was.”

“I’ve been telling you guys.” When Brady said it, it was without heat. “Him and his stupid little hammers.”

“Yeah what was all the hammering for?”

“Reflexes, Hammy. Psychosomatic.”

“Weird as fuck.”

Gale bit his tongue so hard he hoped it cleared his head before daring, “He make you take your shirt off for it?”

There was a pause in the slapping sounds of the card game ongoing behind him, Kendeigh and Demarco and Crank all freezing at the question.

“He keeps checking the shoulder.” Brady finally said, it was admittance enough.

“And the fuckin’ knee.” Hambone chipped in.

He shrugged, meeting Cleven’s eyes stubbornly, “He’s obsessed with reflexes.”

“You hurt your knee landing?”

Brady’s flat line of a mouth tugged up wryly, his eyes flitted over to his sister's motionless form. “A tad. Uh, the shots sir, he said they go in the hip. Didn't have the pamphlets, no instructions.

“I remember.” Gale had some knowledge of it, they’d all gotten a few vaccines in training, and he knew enough to ask for them in the first place, to help with whatever the poor girls might have contracted. His own eyes skittered to Kendeigh who sat at the table, making a poor show of holding her deck of cards. “Well, you first?” he pleaded.

She looked a little cross but she didn’t fight him, she rose from the table with stern imprecations on anyone skipping over her turn and cast about for a place. Gale put his hand on her shoulder and gently guided her to a corner by the bunks, it was really all the privacy he had to give.

“You’ll have to undo my belt, Ida had to do it up-“ she flashed her swollen hands again, “-my hands.”

“I got you.” he whispered, gently reaching around and loosening the belt so that her borrowed trousers sagged enough for him to get at the meat of her hip.

Johnny was rolling Ida over in their bunk beside him, and Gale wasn’t sure who should give Ida her shot but he supposed her brother was the best candidate. Much as he hated the boy having to. But, perhaps, it wasn’t the worst thing he had to do tonight, and that made Gale’s stomach sour. He willed his hands to steadiness and undid the cap off the needle.

“Jesus Christ.” Johnny was suddenly exclaiming, hoarse and infuriated, Gale glanced aside and saw the boy had uncovered a hip alright, with his usual meticulous precision, and still, there wasn’t a spot of skin on Ida not green or else blue or else near to black. Gale stared back at Maureen and the jagged little scratches on her hip, crescent moon ditches, the blooming bruise here and there and swore not to count his blessings.

What did he know? Nothing, he knew nothing about any of them really. Except he knew such injuries didn’t have to show to hurt like hell. He drove the shot home with merciful force, squeezed in the stinging contents and retracted it, smooth and fast as anything.

“Hell, fuck, damn! Son of a carpet wearing Methodist-“ Maureen hopped around on her one good leg in barely contained frenzy at the sting.

Gale tried not to smile, “Bad huh?”

She scowled back at him in between pained giggles, “If I could give yours just for pay back, I would. Damn!” she held her hands up up once more and Cleven kept his eyes above, “But I can’t, sorry, can’t help with the other girls either, fucking useless.”

Johnny was standing, straightened up again, syringe empty, sister still just lying there. Bucky Egan out cold beside her. Gale couldn’t even allow himself to question if those two would be alright. They had to be, he didn’t think he could make it without them, make everyone else make it along with him. “She didn’t even budge.” Jack muttered.

What was there to say to that?

“She didn’t make it all the way here just to fuckin’ die.” Kendeigh assured him while straddling her chair again, voicing her peculiar brand of kindness and her true opinion on Ida Brady, “She’d never be so wet. They had a whole day to kill her on that train and they didn’t manage to.”

A day? A train? Gale didn’t know what to make of it; he was just glad that Bucky was dead to the world for now and not getting riled again by every new tidbit so that Gale would have to talk him down and also administer shots to a bunch of traumatized women.

“We’ll help sir.” Crank offered to him as he stood over the divided piles of syringes again.

“Alright,” Gale agreed, “but some may wanna give it to each other instead, you let them. Give ‘em space. I don’t think they’ll fight it, they know they need ‘em.”

Benny sauntered up beside him, flicking at the supplies, “This one yours, Buck?” he asked casually, fiddling with the spare.

Gale glanced at Brady and found him looking back at him. “Yeah.” He told Benny. “For the cuts.”

“Here, let me-“ Benny was already at it. Gale tugged his waistband down to assist, just enough to expose a sliver of pale hip and leaned a little over the table, there were bruises on his hipbones, he knew, but they could be from anything.

It did sting like hell.

“Alright you take those, and that’s enough for, yeah-“ Gale divided the supplies to each man, lingered just a moment as they went into the hall to brush by Brady, and murmured to him him lowly, “That was real thoughtful, thanks. You need one?”

To the credit of his poker face, the boy didn’t startle a bit, except for an infinitesimal flutter of an eyelid. “No sir?” he asked as if that were an idiotic question.

It was the only way Gale knew to ask him: to ask about something more. -Tell me son, just tell me you need a shot and I’ll know I’m not imagining shit. That I’ve not become paranoid and irritable and callous, too.

But then, “No sir?” and that incredulous face that left even the strongest man feeling like a dunce.

Well, that was it.

“I’ll help you tell them.” Maureen was by his side suddenly and Gale appreciated that, Smith was the only other female Lieutenant and he could use Kendeigh’s unapologetic pragmatism. “Ida told them she’d ask for remedies. Think she meant for pregnancies but, this is a start.”

There really wasn’t much of an announcement to be made; who didn’t understand what penicillin was needed for? It was needed for the dreaded thing that was hung over every bathroom stall door at canteens and on the underground in London, warning of having too good of a time and catching something. No one needed explanations, even though Gale watched their faces as Kendeigh announced and helped distribute the shots one room after another, he was trying to detect if any were hesitant or unconvinced. He found none.

He did find Sanchez, across one identical wooden room and still in her jacket with the eagle patch. She must have washed her face with the others, the mud was gone. When they locked eyes he saw a hard and warning look harden her eyes further; it made his cheek throb. Stonefaced, she broke the stare after a moment and advanced to grab her allotment, even as her fingers dragged along his palm, even when she passed him, Gale could not get her to resume it.

In one of the last rooms he went in alone -Maureen was delayed with one of the girls doing poorly, one who was not well enough to rise from her bunk. “They about drowned her” Maureen told him casually, and that was something else he dreaded learning about.

“Drowned?” he’d repeated a bit dumbly, and he deserved her

annoyed face.

“To get info from us.”

“Us?” he repeated again, low and slow, “You too?”

She gave him another of those looks before nodding at the last parcel in his hand, “Go take care of Smith’s girls before Johnny gets to them first and helps them with all the tenderness of a mortician.”

When Gale had stepped back into the hallway, Johnny’s voice could be heard still two doors down with Benny, fighting a fine line between helping and making themselves scarce. Personally, Gale felt Johnny was a gentle fucker when he needed to be. This wasn’t one of those cases, none of the girls wanted pity from them. Or acknowledgement even, judging by Sanchez’s cautioning venom.

In the last room, Smith and Tong had the girls sorted efficiently, and it was a little thing to ask the ever obliging Graham and the other men to step out briefly. Same old script here as before, Gale felt in a numb sort of loathing for his lack of originality -he distributed a shot a piece and apologized for the lack of iodine to sterilize the injection site and they all assured him it was fine, and everyone knew he was apologizing for far more than the lack of iodine and they knew that they’re assurances were more than about it either. Gale liked these girls for how well they knuckled under, it had made them pretty great in the crews after a shaky mission. They shoved a bad thing down as well as the next man, and if they punched their bed frames at night or cried in the showers, just like how it was for his men, that wasn’t Gale’s concern.

Only Lu Smith’s face went off script when he pressed the needle and its cartridge in her hand, something besides tight lipped thanks or a nod of efficient understanding. There were questions in her eyes, dancing slow and swirly and blatant as sorghum specks in molasses. A rich dark pool of uncertainty. Some girls were already discreetly headed for corners of the room to make the stab or else rolling up a shirt sleeve and insisting to the giver that they wanted it given there. Lu glanced away from him only to watch these proceedings with something like fear and then she was looking back at him, a hesitant plea written on her face. He didn’t know she was scared of needles.

“Major, is Ida awake?” his lieutenant asked, voice scratchy and a little closed, like how it got when she tried her hand at professionality or had to present a solution in front of a crowd. “I need to ask her something.”

That was a remarkably vague sentence, not at all professional. “No, she’s not.” He told her, watching as the fear grew more pronounced around her mouth and chin, “You ask me, Lieutenant.”

“May I?”

“Course,” Gale nodded his head toward the door, “step out here.”

He strode down to the very end of the combine, by the locked double doors, just far enough away from the windows not to invite a guard to come in and give them shit about it. The bright orange lights of the camp came in from the general darkness outside, glowing through the always dusty glass and making Smith’s skin shine a pretty bronze, even with the dark spots on her chin. Those made his blood thud quicker. It was quiet down here, as private as he could get.

“What’s up Smith?” he urged.

“I’m sorry sir I-I’ve got a few questions.”

“Told you to ask, Lieutenant.” Gale reminded, “So ask.”

“Yes sir.” She’d developed a tick since he’d last seen her, an odd sort of hugging of herself, arm crossing her chest and hand gripping her opposite clavicle, fingertips curling just over her own shoulder. “It’s about the shots. Ida’s been teaching me but she never mentioned about those.”

Gale took a deep breath, only the faintest bit of mirth left at the reminder of the ‘condom balloon’ incident. Ida had needed a stiff drink after taking her engineer aside and informing ‘Little Lu’ those were rubber socks men put on their members, and not in fact balloons. And yes, Benny had lied out of niceness, and yes men’s bodies sprayed things like cattle’s did when they got excited, and yes it’s for the purpose of making babies. Gale had heard all this from Ida after three stiff shots she’d downed like medicine, she’d relayed it in a perfect montone and Gale had not asked but she told him all the same, then said she needed to hit the sack and Ida Brady was gone while Gale remained at the bar with his cider and shaking shoulders. The memory had been amusing only weeks ago, when Douglass came to loot Benny’s footlocker for more rubbers and they’d all made a joke about Smith having beat him to them -for balloons.

“Everyone else seems to know and want them and I’m the slow one again.” Smith was muttering, a petulant look of annoyance crossing her young face, angry at herself.

“It’s about the guards.” Gale murmured.

Smith looked so hurt by that he wasn’t sure where he’d misstepped, but then, “Is it for what they did? Or is it such a sure they’re gonna keep hurting us and these- how do these help, sir?”

Gale startled and laid a heavy hand on her shoulder out of pure, gut instinct to impress on her his next words, “Not a single thing is goin’ to happen to you again, not like that, you hear me, Lu?” he shook her a little and it dislodged her own hand from her chest.

“Yes sir.”

“These are for anything you might’ve caught.” he tried to explain, coming up short and he knew it. If Bucky were here he’d use all manner of crass slang and common vernacular phrases to jog the poor girl’s memory about magazine advertisements, the sorts that warned of ‘diseases’, the underground posters and the bathroom stall flyers urging chastity or safety. Gale could not manage it back then and he couldn’t now. “Diseases Lu.” he tried again, “Men who aren’t- careful, or- disciplined, they, they spread diseases to the girl they’re with. Uh, with- intimately. If they’ve been with other girls before.”

He hoped to God that Ida had used the word ‘intimate’ when educating Smith on these finer yet so utterly crude aspects of human interaction. ‘Intimate’ seemed like a word Ida Brady would use, he thought he recalled her accusing him of being intimate with Kendeigh. Maybe the accusation had been ‘fraternizing’. Or ‘getting familiar’. Gale wasn’t sure, he only recalled that it had not been complementary and he had blushed into the floor under her stare but her accusation had been vague. He knew Ida had been vague.

Was she equally vague with Smith? Did that mean Smith was as uneducated as she’d been before Ida gave her an ineffectually Catholic lesson?

“They can spread it with-“ Smith paused only a minute before deciding to trust him, “-with their bodies? Like a wound?”

Gale gave her nod, trying to stay teacherly, “With their bodies. Yeah. They don’t need wounds it comes from- well, other places. Intimate places they- look, Smith if you weren’t hurt that way, you don’t need the shots.”

Grueling as this conversation was, nerve wracking as her dense innocence could be, it fed that traitorous bit of hope he’d been harboring since he lost all hope for himself that she might’ve been alright. It wasn’t fair to Kendiegh or Ida or Sanchez or any of the others to hope for that, but none of this was fair anyway. Maybe her lack of comprehension was a kindness.

Smith’s eyes were latching onto one surrounding thing and then another, a good long beat between each new object, not darting but roving, now latched on the doorframe and now on Gale’s coat buttons and then on to the glass window panes beside them as if she could see through the bubbled glass out into the dark yard. He could tell by her change in breathing more than the light when she began to cry.

“I didn’t want the girls to think I’m stupid.” She admitted, and she was definitely crying, “I’m their officer, I should know these things.” she explained, lips going into a full tremble, all the harmless jokes of before suddenly not a bit funny, “But I don’t know at all, I didn’t know they’d-“ Gale kept his hand on her now jolting shoulder, spending a little too much time thinking how to mould his own face to some correct expression for this as she began to crumble, it was better than watching too closely as she broke apart, “When they beat us and put the bags over our faces I- I expected it. It wasn’t right, we weren’t treated like prisoners but, I expected it. Ida had told us. Then they started saying things to her, the ones that could speak English and I-i really didn’t know what they meant, not at first until they started- oh Major, they, they started touching her, like lovers in a movie.”

Lu had her eyes squeezed shut like that would get the image out somehow, one brief flash and Gale could remember everything about laying there and seeing Sanchez’s face -and he knew nothing wiped the image out. “They had her chained to a bar and they kept doing that,” she went on, “It was over her head, the bar was over her head and I could tell how much she hated it, and she couldn’t do anything and they weren’t hurting her anymore, they were- they were touching her. They stopped beating her and started touching her, sir and I- that’s when I realized that, there could be something worse. They wanted us to start giving up ranks, and they kept doing that until we did and I wanted to give up then more than any time else. Just to make them stop doing that to her.”

Gale squeezed her shoulder and she jerked under it but cried afresh, she stayed still next to him and just kept crying. “Smith, right here and now I need to know if you’re alright.” he steered her away from memories back to now, as gently as he could, “Ida is gonna be alright, and she’s proud of you, and she expects you to take care of her girls, you hear me? And I need you well for that, Lu. I need to know if you’ve been hurt.”

Smith pulled herself back into a shaky composure, her neck still trembling so badly her head made tiny little jerks from time to time. “They did hurt me.” she agreed.

“Hurt you where you need these shots?” he gently clarified, hoping she was catching on, dreading the confirmation all the same.

“They put -they kept putting themselves inside me.” she got it out, her face dazed like she still didn’t understand it even as her voice cracked from a soul deep knowledge of the wrong done, “I didn’t know they could- they could use their bodies like that. I didn’t know. They kept doing it.”

-There had been only five.- Gale felt his belly lurch, some bowel deep memory of the same torture taking over him, like a haunting he couldn’t prevent. He’d thought he had it locked far down enough, hardly thought on it these days, but maybe he’d shoved it down to where it hurt in the first place, with his belly in knots all again and Sanchez’s cold face sneering and Benny’s worried eyes making his stomach shake and salt flood his mouth. He wanted to vomit.

“Oh Lu.” he muttered ineffectually, “C’mere.” and he had her hugged and cradled to his ratty jacket before his ingrained and temperate habits could interfere. He had her turned to the doors, her sobbing eyes pressed into his sweaty layers and it was better that way. With his lips pressed to the crown of her head he watched the rest of the hallway go on without them, men going back into the rooms once the shots had been administered, Benny darting into one with a bucket in hand. Gale saw Brady as Brady saw him, only making a small pause in his stride as he watched Gale hold Smith before he turned away, face still a blank slate, the boy went back to his sister.

Maybe if Gale had been closer or the hallway brighter he might’ve seen the same hurt and tears there as he and Smith were sharing, but Brady wasn’t close and he wouldn’t say and maybe Gale was a fool to think his own experience wasn’t a fluke. But Brady just went back to Ida, and Gale still felt the damning weight of the shot in his palm even as he hugged Smith’s narrow shoulders.

His own hip still smarted from the injection, -the shot for his cuts. Just his cuts.

“I’m sorry sir.” Smith was trying to say in between sobs, no doubt finding her emotions galling in the face of her prized professionalism.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be fine-“

“I know.”

“I’ll be fine i just, I didn’t know-“

“I know, Lu.”

“It hurt so much.”

“I know.”

She pulled her face away, he was glad to see that while it was puffy and reddened, she looked far calmer. The suddenness of her recovery should have warned him. “Do you sir?” she whispered, pained.

“What?”

“Do you know, sir?” she asked again, harmless yet intent, “Did they hurt you that way too?”

Gale felt a rush of heat, heat and numbness where his hands fell from their grip on her and shook by his sides instead, and he hated his limbs for that betrayal. Heat, like she could see it so clearly on his face, like the harmless cuts on his face really spelled it out. Everyone’s suspicion of them put him on edge, wondering what was wrong with his bearing, his walk, the way he took a seat, that somehow exposed him. With her dark, pitying, horrified little face staring up at him, he felt like he was back on the bench with Benny holding him there, knowing most likely why he had to lay on his belly and not his back.

“Smith you can’t-“ Gale sounded young again and he hated it, when he was ready he began again, and this time he sounded like Major Cleven, “-don’t ever say shit like that again, alright? You can’t say shit like that. Not about- men. Not about me.”

She looked affronted and close to tears again, but his tone couldn’t be helped, last thing this stalag needed was news their Major had been so easily overcome. “I was just asking sir-“

“Not something you ask a man.” he informed her. “Like ya said, there’s lot of things you don’t know, it’s alright. But you don’t ask that, Smith.”

Harsh but necessary, he told himself again. Except she looked less hurt now and closer to something like anger, if her kind self could be angry. He’d seen her get angry when someone kicked a dog once. He’d seen her angry after a shit mission. She looked close to it now, like some grave injustice was firing her up. “But it can happen to men.” she was suddenly wise and he picked a cuticle bloody in trance-like distress, his face was motionless, “I know because they- they can put themselves both places.”

Fury took the place of numbness in his being and he grabbed her again, pulling her close and tucking her under his chin, she made a wounded noise when their chests collided despite the layers, but she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed back. “They’re never gonna do that again, Lu, never again. I’m gonna make sure of it. Bucky’ll make sure of it.” he swore, his voice gone so low it shook. “They hurt you other places?”

Smith shook her head against his chest, “I’ll take the shot, sir.” she murmured meekly. “Would you give it? I don’t want the others to-“

“Sure, Lu.”

He waited until she pulled away, her eyes downcast but the look on her face broke no argument that she wasn’t in a humor to be less than her rank. Gale shifted the shot in his palm and bit his lip, willing away any sentiment about it.

“Goes in the hip. Mark my words, those bicep shots that Tong went for- gonna hurt for ages, you don’t need that. Lemme put it in your hip.”

Smith nodded and cast a furtive glance behind her at the empty hall, only looking down again to undo her belt when Gale moved his body to block any hapless onlooker.

There were bruises when he gently aided her in tugging the drab olive aside, some nearly as dark as the ones on Ida and welts from what looked like a belt strap, even on the high swell of her hip. Gale knew the smarting bite of a belting.

“Did you wash these?” he whispered to her, crouching to better see his work as he made a harbor of unmarried muscle between his thumb and index finger, bunching up the meat of her leg and holding it for her to relax into his touch before he jammed the shot home.

“When we showered.” Lu wasn’t crying anymore but her voice matched his in its softness, tense anticipation for the jab mellowing the longer he kept her staid under his hold.

“Good.” he commended her, voice muffled by the needles’ cap between his lips.

She only stiffened when he drove it in, pressed down on the plunger with his thumb, kept his hand gripping her hip, shaking the muscle just so, “Loosen up.” he ordered, it would hurt less that way. Cleven heard her take a breath and try.

When he stood straight again he took the cap from his mouth and clicked it back on the needle, acting like it took great concentration and focus to do so, all while she pulled her trousers back up and refastened them discreetly. Her cheeks were wet once more, either from before or she’d begun crying again.

“You ok?” he asked.

She gave him a long series of nods as she got on top of the embarrassed anger. “Yes, thanks Buck.”

“I’m right down there.” he reminded, thumbing at his own quarters. “You feel the least bit sickly or- or anything, you come get me. Same for your girls.”

“Yes sir.”

“Alright, well get in there Lu,” he patted her toward her room, “one thing the krauts are picky about here is bedtime.”

Smith sucked in a breath between her teeth, a shuddering thing, “Alright, I’ll remember. Bedtime.”

“So you’re gonna remember bedtime and what else?” Gale catchized her.

“Bedtime and that…you’re -right down there.”

“Very good, Smith.”

“Night, Buck.”

“Night, Lu.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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minniesmutt · 4 months ago

Note

are you still accepting request for the chasr atlantic thing?

meddle about x hyunjin, plss

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HYUNJIN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS, PORN W/O PLOT, PROTECTED SEX, ORAL (M. REC, IMPLIED F. REC), CLIT PLAY, EXHIBITIONISM, CHOKING, PROTECTED SEX, IMPLIED SECOND ROUND, DADDY KINK ☾ ━━━ WC: 1K ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

Y/n enjoyed it. It was just all fun but fun felt good, especially with Hyunjin, who knew exactly how to make her feel best. And she’d never leave him hanging either. No matter where they were.

Even at events.

“Ya know, everyone keeps asking about us,” Hymning grabbed as his head tilted back to the wall behind. Only getting a hum in response from the girl on her knees in front of him. Her mouth was busy on his cock.

He didn’t deny just how good his friends looked. He also didn’t deny when evasions at the after-party said they were jealous of how he got a girlfriend like her. He didn’t have the heart to correct them either.

He could barely even think straight when she pulled him off to an empty bathroom and pressed him against the wall. Lips devoured his before she sank onto her knees, undoing his belt and dress pants. Hyunjin was gone the moment her lips wrapped around his tip.

“Fuck,” he groaned, mind blank as his dick twitched inside her mouth. He grabbed the back of her head and pushed her down onto him. Filling her pretty mouth up with his seed. Y/n held onto his hips as she looked up at the idol with watery eyes— thankful for her waterproof mascara.

Hyunjin pulled her back off his cock and tilted her head back, seeing her mouth full of him before she swallowed it. “Dirty girl,” he chuckled

He helped her up off the ground and grabbed her ass, plump lips engulfing hers in a kiss. His tongue quickly found its way into her mouth. Treating the remnants of himself inside the cavern. Y/n gripped his coat as his murals wrapped around her and she leaned further into him. “Hotel,” Y/n begged as he pulled his tongue out of her throat.

“Yeah? Need me to fuck you just the way you like it the rest of the night? That it?” Hyunjin teased

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy.”

Hyunjin quickly fixed himself and called the car for them. Both made sure the order looked presentable before going back out. Quickly leaving the venue hand in hand and getting in the waiting car. Hyunjin played his role as an idol and waved bye to his hands that were still outside as they walked and got in the car—telling the driver to head back to the hotel.

Hyunjin managed to slip his hand under the slit of her dress and pressed a finger to her covered clot. Y/n looked at him, hoping the driver wouldn’t look back at them. Those thoughts didn’t last too long as he circled her clit over her panties.

“Soak your pants sucking me off?” Hyunjin laced over and asked, feeling the wet spot that had soaked the fabric. Y/n subtly nodded as he hooked a finger under the side of the fabric. “Take ‘em off.”

Y/n looked at him, deducing if he was serious — he was. She subtly managed to get the fabric off her legs before placing them in his open hand. Hyunjin kissed her temple as he slipped them into his pocket before returning his finger to her aching clit. She opted to lay her head against his shoulder as he teased her the rest of the way to their hotel. Stopping his ministrations whenever she whispered to him she was close. Fully stopping once they got to the hotel. Hyunjin helped her out of the car and walked to the elevator. Y/n pressed her lips to his once the doors closed. Hyunjin happily returned the kiss and wrapped a hand around her throat. Making her moan into his mouth. “So greedy tonight.” Hyunjin smiled

“Can you blame me?”

“No.”

The elevator opened to their floor and headed straight to their room. Y/n started unzipping her dress before Hyunjin even shut the door. Letting it fall to the ground before getting on the bed. Hyunjin smirked as he stepped off his suit and grabbed a condom from their luggage.

He stood on the side of the bed and pulled her to him. The idol rolled the rubber onto his hard cock and pushed himself into her aching cut. Y/n moaned as he filled her out. Hyunjin wrapped his hand back around her neck and started thrusting in and out of her. Y/n grabbed onto his wrists before her hands were pulled away and he instructed her to keep them above her head.

“Good girl,” Hyunjin smiled as she followed his instructions and used his free hand to rub her clit again.

Y/n gasped and clenched around him. Catching a glimpse in the hotel mirror of their position. Turning her on more and Hyunjin noticed. Teasing her and gripping her neck tighter. “Should have brought the camera. Get to see what I see every time.”

“Hyune,” Y/n moaned

“My baby close? Need to cum?”

“Yes!” She managed to choke out

“What do you say?”

“Please, daddy.”

“Been good tonight. Go ahead. Cum in daddy’s cock.”

Y/n couldn’t wait another second. Her organ ripped through her, shaking under him as he ducked her through the orgasm. Hyunjin smiled as he kept going. Fucking her as his own orgasm was approaching. Cursing under his breath and took his hands off her body. Placing them on the bed and using the momentum to thrust into her. Listening to her moan his name. Until his own dam finally broke and his cum filled the condom.

Hyunjin pulled out as soon as he was done. Both took a moment to recollect themselves before Hyunjin pulled off the condom, tying up the rubber and tossing it away. “More,” Y/n said from the bed

“Give me a few minutes then we can go again. But for now, I need to return the cache from the bathroom.” Hyunjin smiled and got onto his knees in front of her, holding her legs open and kissing her entrance.

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#☾━━━━ [𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒]#stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #skz smut #skz x reader smut #skz #stray kids smut #hyunjin x reader smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader smut #hwang hyunjin smut

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 years ago

Text

The Quickie [Loki x Fem.Reader]

A Link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: You and Avenger! Loki escape a work event for something more entertaining. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Smut. Language. Dirty talk. Dom!/Switch. Friends w/ Benefits. Squirting (w/c 2.1k)

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the hotel room mirror, cheeks flushed and hair mussed. "They'll be wondering where we are," you panted, as Loki walked you backwards.

“What was I supposed to do when you look like this?” Loki snarled, unbuttoning your flimsy blouse with unnatural speed. Saliva glistened on his chin, red lipstick rubbed in ombre smears against alabaster skin. “Wait?”

He had marched you from the downstairs Expo in full ceremonial battle leathers. Desperate kisses and moans and wandering hands had made the elevator feel more like a dive bar. Your bare cheeks had pressed against the glass as your skirt rode up, grinding against his hips while you hung on to the horns of his helmet. You gasped as your back met the wall, a thumb tilting your head back while he smouldered through half-lidded eyes. His headpiece glimmered in the low lighting, the gilded formality making your knees wobble. The god moaned darkly, one hand slipping between your legs, eyelids batting closed as dexterous fingers played over your soaking slit. “I knew you weren’t wearing anything under here. Knew it,” he groaned, bending forward with one bulging forearm pressed against the wall. The leather creaked. And you were sure you heard the plaster crack. His lips were an inch from yours, the sudden pause in his seductions reminding you of the moment before the predator makes its final, lethal, lunge. Hot breath flooded your nostrils, sweet and heavy with desire. Your fingers toyed with the side-zip of your skirt, raising your sultry gaze to meet his. “There she is, my good girl,” he rasped, as the fabric fell around your ankles. Biting your lip, you let your hands wander up the flat expanse of his triangular chest from the nipped waist to his shoulders. The leather was snug to every angle of his body, a vicious unit of power and sexual devastation wrapped in pure temptation. Just for you. You had learned that fucking Loki Laufeyson was like riding a bull. A girl needed to take control and harness the beast or risk being thrown off and trampled in the dirt. And to be frank, you weren’t sure how much of that was metaphorical. Without breaking eye-contact, you laced his fingers through yours. They were wet. “Come on,” you whispered, enjoying the narrow of his eyes and the clench of his jaw as he fought to contain a smile. On the way to the bedroom, you kicked off your heels. You turned, seductive demeanour turning to a frown. He was naked. “What happened to the-” “-Leather?” Loki cut. “You said it yourself darling, they’ll be wondering where we are,” he purred sarcastically. “And you far take too long undressing me.” His hand ran up your spine, tugging the blouse off with gentle precision. In one fluid motion, he knelt one knee on the bed, sweeping you to lie on your back. “Such a pretty tease, aren’t you?” he goaded, running his knuckles between your breasts. You shivered, feeling yourself melt within the burning pools of his darkened eyes.

The thick ropes of muscle layering his shoulders shifted as he leant over you, the slide of his hand up your bare thigh culminating in a brutal squeeze of your ass. Loki's immaculate cock twitched between his legs, a solitary pearl of wetness lingering tantalisingly at the crease. A macabre smile stretched on his lips, seeing your stare linger on his manhood as it always did.

“I often wonder if you wish to fuck me as often as I wish to fuck you,” he pondered casually as you shuffled backwards to the centre of the mattress. Loki stalked closer on all fours like a beast, his gigantic frame covering you in a cage of muscled, marble eroticism. Your legs widened, knees bent to the ceiling as he took up position between your spread thighs. Loki’s biceps strained under his weight as he lowered his face to yours, the veins taut and thick. And hard. Long tendrils of ebony hair caught against your lips. He sucked your earlobe, releasing it with a wet, licentious sigh. “But then I remember,” he continued smugly, “how you sound when I do...this-”

With a soft exhale of relief, his cock breached your soaking slit. On cue, your back arched in welcome; a melodic gasp of pleasure filling the air. Loki’s lips parted in a silent chuckle, hungry eyes flitting over every inch of your desperately horny features contorted with pleasure. “Ah, my faithful godslut,” he cooed, slurring while he bottoming out with a solid thrust that knocked you back several inches. “Always ready and willing to swallow what I have to give, in any hole...isn’t that right, darling?” You bucked violently against him in protest, pelvic bones thudding. Loki pursed his lips, a silent ooo searing the air while he clenched to deliver another earth-shuddering thrust. Your fingers scraped back his loose hair, letting one hand settle at the base of his scalp. With a sharp tug to the right, he rolled on his back with a guttural groan. His perfect cock’s brief absence was a torture, but a necessary one. Cheeky shit needs a reminder of who he’s talking to, you grit; straddling him and leveraging him back where he belonged. Loki’s huge hands gravitated to your breasts, palms ready to massage upwards with every targeted pump of his ass. You grabbed his exposed wrists, pushing them above his head to the pillow. “I think you’re forgetting something, Laufeyson…” you panted, clenching your cunt teasingly around the tip. Loki frowned, face screwed up at the delicious mischief in which he found himself. “Sure – I take what you give. But you only give what I want,” you sneered. His thick thighs jolted as you began to inch slowly down his shaft, feeling every protruding vein catch on the sensitive rim of your pussy. You smiled, watching him squirm against the mattress. “So just remember who’s really in control here, yeah?”

At your words he let loose a rattling sigh, feigning an escape against the hands gripping his wrists. With every achingly slow movement, the sinews of his neck bulged. His teeth, gritted. God, it was heaven. Breathy pants rumbled from his throat as you increased your speed, slamming back to his pelvis with every waving buck of your hips. “N-norns, kvinne du...avslutter m-meg, uhh-fu-ck,” he stammered, eyes rolling to the ceiling. Your hands slid down the bulge of his forearms, smile twitching. “The end of you, huh? My, my. It doesn’t take much to topple a god after all, then.”

Loki’s freed hands flew to your hips with a snarl, beginning to bounce you mercilessly on his cock. Air puffed from your lungs with every flick of his muscular hips, spread knees bent to the ceiling buffeting you higher; caught only by his iron grasp. The wet of your sex coated his length, sticky threads tangling in invisible strands from your heat to his pubic hair. Your fingernails scraped down his chest, making him hiss. They would mark. Loki snarled again, deep and low and primal as you slapped together. God, he looked so fucking mean. And so fucking sexy. “Just like that. Like that,” he growled with fiery madness. The squeeze of your muscles around his length with every dip of his ridden prick made you squelch. In the bright light of morning-afters, your trysts were nothing. A distraction. A way to pass the time. But at moments like this, in the heat and sweat and filth of erotic battle; the way the two of your moved as one. It was everything. Loki’s jaw hung open, his tongue twitching. His beautiful eyes were closed, proud brow creased as he lost himself inside you. Your clit ground against his pelvis with every shallow edge of his hips, cock pulsing rhythmically against the swollen bundle deep within. The god’s fingers slid possessively around the curve of your ass, the tips digging dangerously into soft flesh. You expected that tomorrow you would be painted once again in the purple and blue hallmarks of his affections. You hoped you would be. Your head fell back, spilling his name to the ceiling as you felt your cunt spasm with pleasure. “Baby,” you gasped, “F-fuck, baby – yes!-” You choked as the world was flipped upside down. Your back landed with a soft thump on the hotel mattress. Loki wasted no time in seating himself between your spread thighs, sinking home inside your sopping cunt with a ragged, cursing moan. “Don’t call me that,” he warned, eyes flashing. You batted your lashes in feigned innocence, trying to hide a smirk. “Don’t call you ‘baby’? Why?” you goaded, before Loki’s tongue jammed inside your mouth, shutting you up. He began to move in pulsating waves, heavy groans on both sides echoing between your open mouths. With a rasping grunt, he began to thumb your clit as he railed you, every powerful rut of his cock pushing you closer to the headboard. Loki’s hair swung around his jawline, glistening sweat misting his brow as his breaths became short. “Close. Going to c-come,” he growled, eloquence forgotten. Your fingernails scratched deep between his shoulder-blades, the warrior muscles tense and primal. “N-not before me, you’re not-” you gasped, bucking upwards. Loki snarled, pushing your knees towards your chin in malicious compliance. “Oh, god,” you howled, the new angle rubbing his thick tip directly against your g-spot. A sudden urge washed over you, the utter inexplicable, unstoppable need to wet yourself cracking through every tingling nerve in your body. You were going to squirt. Hard.

“Loki-” you gaped, arching upwards as he littered the air with dirty praise. The urge was becoming unbearable. Unstoppable, as his cock massaged your most primal centre. “Do it, pretty kvinne,” he spat, panting while a delicate strand of saliva clung to his chin. Dangling. “I can feel it, I want it-” The vein in his forehead bulged as his breaths grew short. “Make a mess, let yourself go, f-fuck min dårlige j-jente.” Orgasm flooded your veins as you squirted around his cock with a strangled cry, welling against your bodies. A scream erupted, forceful ecstasy howling like wind tunnel through your veins. You could feel the ferocity of your arousal swell around his girth, sheer galactic power soldering your bodies together in a swamp of pure sex. Thin liquid washed down your thighs, spreading warm and wild with his continuing shallow rocks against your mound. Loki followed with a thundering moan of your name, the mass of muscle above you shaking and spasming through his climax. Your mess dripped down his legs, smeared against his lower stomach as he rode his release with staggered, choked breaths.

He collapsed on top of you, bulging forearms in a protective triangle above your head before falling to the side.

Watching him breathing for a few seconds, you drew a lazy finger across the tip of his softening cock, collecting a thick trail of fresh cum. You sucked it from your finger, pausing for effect as Loki inevitably opened one eye to watch. He cleared his throat. “That was...relatively pleasing.” You smacked his shoulder. Loki smiled, before his features hardened the way they always did when duty beckoned. He swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Come, get dressed,” he sniffed.

“I’ll wait here, thanks. You have a better room.” You scooted back against the cushions, crossing your legs and reaching for the remote on the night-stand.

“You will not,” Loki huffed. Your eyebrows rose in reluctant appreciation as leather armour furled over his carved, glistening body, wrapping against his skin like a needy lover. “What’s the problem?” you smiled innocently, while the news channel sprung to life.

His stare cindered into your profile like cigarettes on tissue as you continued, looking ahead. “-you’re going to drag me up here in twenty minutes anyway, when you’re hard because I’ve sucked a straw or something-” “-I’ll be bored. I won’t have anyone to talk to.” Loki scoffed. The petulance was tangible. It was your turn to roll your eyes. “There are like, five hundred people downstairs. You’re a star, everyone wants to talk to-” “-Alright, no one I want to talk to,” Loki snapped, folding his arms. There was silence between you except for the irritating tap of one of his boots on the wooden floor. Wordlessly you turned off the TV, making a regal grasping gesture in the air. The god sighed in resignation, before kneeling to retrieve your discarded blouse. He turned on his knee, holding it aloft to your outstretched hand in a tableau that was almost gallant.

“Are we going to pretend that you didn’t just admit that you actually like me?” you smirked.

Loki frowned, rising to his full height. “I did no such-” You pressed a finger to his parted lips, widening the digits of the other hand against his cock still thick and delicious beneath the leather. “Okay, baby” you hummed, squeezing. His brows slanted, breath hitching as you grazed his lips with yours. “Whatever you say.”

Rough Norwegian kvinne du avslutter meg – woman, you’ll end me min dårlige j-jente – my bad girl

Tags (cont'd in comments) @meowmeow-motherfucker @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @jaidenhawke @silverfire475 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @kats72 @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @maple-seed @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @sidepartskinnyjeans @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @glitchquake @lokischambermaid @loopsisloops

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki x you #loki x yn #avenger loki #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x reader smut #loki marvel #loki x female reader #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki gif #loki x yn smut #loki x you smut #loki laufeyson smut #loki laufeyson x reader smut

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oatmealwrites · 2 months ago

Text

Catch Kira, NOT Feelings! Ch.1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

L x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Ch.1 is finallllly done LMAO. This is probably gonna be a medium-long fic but I haven't quite decided yet so buckle up. Eventually some NSFW in later chapter but relative slow burn at the start.

word count: 5.1k

Synopsis:

As a graduate criminology student, you're more than ecstatic to jump at your mentor's offer to join the task force chasing down Kira. Mr. Yagami has prepared you for a successful career in the law and justice system, but with the public disappointment in the police's inability to catch Kira, finding a well paying job will be difficult. But a recommendation letter from L would open doors you can't even imagine. It's simple, you just have to catch Kira... NOT feelings.

Masterlist

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(Post time skip 1 - Aka Light in university now & helping the investigation. Just after ukita death)

November 4 -

You shift your weight from leg to leg inside the elevator, rehearsing your introduction and replaying the instructions from Mr. Yagami over and over again. The red LEDs indicate a higher and higher floor of the hotel and each second feels like an eternity passing.

“You’ll be fine Y/N. I’ve already worked it out with the task force, there’s no unnecessary expectation of you.”

You turn to Mr. Yagami and let out a slow exhale, feeling the pressure leave your lungs but the weight remaining on your shoulders.

“I know, it’s just big shoes to fill. Only the best are working with L to catch Kira.”

“Well Matsuda joined right away,” he replies, a small smirk on his lips, “If that makes you feel any better.”

You look down at your shoes and let out a light laugh, you’ve worked with Matsuda before. Interning under the Chief before he left the police force created lots of opportunities to work with lots of different officers. Matsuda was always one of your favorites.

“Ha, it kinda does. But he’s loyal and committed to the case-,”

“You are too. Don’t sell yourself short. I went through the interview with you regarding the risks in finding Kira and have seen your analysis take down a variety of other criminals. You have great potential to be an officer.”

Mr. Yagami gives you a paternal smile and his eyes hold nothing but honesty, “I’m glad to have you on this task force. I mean it.”

“Thank you,” a grateful tone leaves your lips and you can’t help but feel better at his compliments. It was a reassurance you needed to hear.

The elevator dings softly and the metal doors slide open with Mr. Yagami extending his arm over the sensor to allow your exit before his. As you step onto the plush carpet of the expensive hotel floor, a feeling of guilt washes over you. Mr. Yagami leads the way down the hall and you follow in silence, still comparing yourself to the other members of the task force.

While yes you were determined to catch Kira, the reasoning behind it wasn’t all about morality. To be honest you almost agreed with Kira at first - a new world where people who did wrong actually got punished compared to the slow and tedious bureaucratic pace of justice was appealing. Though after the killings of petty criminals and FBI agents, the resonance of Kira’s message faded to one of selfishness.

Though maybe I’m not much better. Truth be told, catching Kira was a priority for you ethically, but so were the very extensive benefits it offered. Being a graduate student in criminology and psychology there were very few jobs you could pursue upon graduation. That, combined with the over public disappointment in the very justice system you were about to work in, made finding a secure and well paying job almost impossible. But, if you could catch Kira and get a recommendation from someone like L on your CV? The possibilities would be endless.

The heel of your shoes has a muffled ‘click’ on the carpet as you walk behind Mr. Yagami and eventually reach a door near the end of the halfway. Almost no other room doors were present on this entire half of the hall, indicating this room was extremely large and extremely expensive to rent out.

Yagami gives you a small smile of encouragement and knocks a specific pattern before scanning a plastic room card and turning the knob. There’s a glow from the overhead ceiling lights that pour out of the room and into the hallway along with several hushed voices chatting just out of sight.

“I think we should review the – “

“Sshh.. I think Chief is back.”

You follow Mr. Yagami past the room entrance and enter what seems to be a penthouse hotel suite living room scattered with papers and boxes alike. A group of men stand around the coffee table and pause when you and Mr. Yagami walk further into the room.

Matsuda catches your eye and instantly smiles, “Woa, Y/N! I didn’t realize you were going to join us!-”

His expression is cut short when another man smacks him lightly on the back of the head, “Idiot! Wasn’t the first thing that L said to do was not reveal any names?”

Your eyes widen. These guys are serious.

Matsuda looks up at the man in worry and then at you apologetically, “Ah I’m sorry,” he scratches the back of his head sheepishly, “I didn’t mean to put you at risk there.”

You smile lightly and Mr. Yagami walks further into the room to pick up a few papers and scan them over, interested in what the group was working on before you two had arrived. “It’s fine Aizawa, L already cleared us all of being Kira. The only issue would be if Y/N was.”

The statement holds no threat of you actually being Kira but it’s enough to make you feel uneasy and the other members shift awkwardly. Has one of them already been suspected of being Kira? No way… not a member of the police surely?

You snap out of your thoughts and give a light bow to the group, “Hi everyone. My name is Y/N and I’m excited to join you all in the investigation to catch Kira. Let’s work well together.”

The group softens and smiles at your introduction and one by one introduces themself briefly. You already knew Matsuda, the man who scolded him was named Aizawa, and the tall man who was quietly skimming papers was named Mogi.

“This is a small group. You weren’t kidding Mr. Yagami when you said only the most committed are involved.” The statement has a light-hearted joke sense to it but no one moves to laugh.

Mogi shifts his weight awkwardly, “Well.. we actually lost a member, Ukita, not too long ago. Kira killed him.”

SHIT. You want to die right then and there. Kira if you can read my thoughts please strike me down too.

“Oh! Im so sorry I didn’t know-”

“It’s alright Y/N. We purposely keep super tight lips about everything and all our members. It makes sense you didn’t realize. But I hope this serves as a reminder of the gravity of the situation at hand. If you aren’t willing to die for this cause, I recommend you turn away now. You’re still young and have a lot of life ahead of you.”

You turn to Mr. Yagami and blink before shaking your head. A life ahead of me? I have no other career paths and no way to climb and earn a livable wage without doing this. I need this case and this recommendation.

“No- I want to do this. I want to be here. I want to catch Kira.”

The group’s tension dissipates and they all turn their attention back to the coffee table and it’s papers.

“Here,” Mogi starts, handing you a manila folder, “Watari dropped these off earlier. We should get started with the most Kira clues.”

You take the folder gently and sit on the edge of the armrest of the couch, skimming through the papers until a set of photographs tumble out. Gently closing the folder you reach down to retrieve the photos, only hesitating when you see the subject. Prisoner suicide notes.

Carefully you flip through each photo, quietly trying to take it all in. There’s four photos in total each numbered in the corner:

A male prisoner had stabbed himself in the cafeteria with a knife. His suicide note written on the back: “Theives deserve their punishment”

A male prisoner who was beaten to death in the prison yard. He had left a note in his cell: “Dead ends everywhere”

A male prisoner hanging himself with a note in blood on the wall behind him “The victims deserve justice”

A female prisoner who had jumped from the roof. Her suicide note written on the back: “Are you watching, L?”

You examine the photos and their suicide notes for a few minutes, your brows furrowed in focus. At first you lean over to the coffee table and place them all note-side up; after a moment you flip them over to show the images. A bead of sweat drips down the side of your face and you bite the edge of your thumb nail without realizing.

Before you can properly go through the rest of the contents of the folder, Matsuda speaks up, “Oh the photos? Those have stumped me all morning. But-!” He leans down to flip the images once again. He places them in the order 3,1,4,2. “In this order they say something. “The. Thieves. Are. Dead.”

You nod and look up at Matsuda, “Yes, in this order we can assume Kira is trying to convey a message to us.”

Something isn’t right; this feels off somehow.

You release the nail from your teeth and shake your head, eyes never leaving the images, “Yes we could, but it wouldn’t make any sense. Are all of these inmates thieves? Or is Kira referring to someone else?”

Matsuda looks at you wide-eyed and a bit embarrassed, “Oh, in the folder it mentions two of them were murderers now that you mention it..”

No, there’s something else wrong here.

You keep staring at the images, “it’s strange Kira would leave such a vague message with such a group. Mr. Yagami already informed me how Kira did his tests about the actions leading up to a death, so writing these notes would have some significance. But..”

You gently lift the images again, this time studying the attire of each inmate in the photos. “Each person is from a different jail. Their clothing and health state indicates they weren’t in the same prison system.”

Mogi leans over and shrugs, letting out a soft sigh, “why does that matter? Kira has killed from nearly every jail in the country at this point.”

You meet his gaze for a moment, “I mean this work is kinda sloppy. It’s obvious he didn’t do proper research on each prison.”

Mogi opens his mouth in slight shock, waiting for you to elaborate. You tilt your head and survey the image of the deceased female inmate, your eyes lingering on the background building of the prison. Without missing a beat you lift the photo to Mogi, “I mean this jail is only one floor. If you jumped 3.5m (11.5ft) maybe you’d break your ankle.” You stare at the image of the woman’s distorted body, “Not 4 ribs, both kneecaps, and skull.”

Mr. Yagami stares at the images over your shoulder in a mix of disbelief and awe; he places his hand on your shoulder supportively. Matsuda lets out a light gasp and takes the photo of the woman and looks at it incredulously with an audible ‘woa’.

You look up from the table and then at Mr. Yagami, “Are there any other fake Kira photographs in this pile?”

Before the chief can answer a voice rings out from the connecting bedroom door that is now swung open, “Naturally all of them were doctored for this test. But nice work Y/N. You solved that faster than I was expecting.”

The entire group turns to face him and you find yourself raising to your feet in respect. L.

Your eyes drift up and latch onto his; almost in a trance. Dark disheveled hair seemed to splay in every direction, covering where his eyebrows would be, and his awful posture rounded his back forward. His deep gray eyes and purple bags from lack of sleep contrasted the paleness of his skin. Rather than professional attire, baggy denim jeans hung low on his hips and an oversized henley draped his frame. He shifted his weight from side to side waiting for your response.

Any words paused in your mouth as you drank in the appearance of the man in front of you. Half of you was awestruck to see the famous detective you’ve only heard stories of in person; the other half was mentally scolding yourself to set some higher standards.

Maybe it’s because you spent too much time around men with pensions and none your own age. Yea. That’s it.

The bar really is in hell huh.

You swallowed any stupid remarks and extended your hand to him, “It’s nice to meet you, L.”

L looked at your hand apprehensively and slowly reached forward to complete the shake. The look on his face made it seem like he was forcing himself to shake your hand and only resolved into doing so just to be polite. Jerk. It’s not like my hands are dirty.

“Well, now that introductions are formally over, I have some other details on the Kira case I would like us to focus our attention on.”

L sauntered further into the room and slid the manila folder with the test photos and information to the side. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a senior-aged man appeared with a rolling cart containing paper boxes filled with miscellaneous files on the bottom and an arrangement of desserts and coffee cups on the top.

With a whisper of ‘thanks’, you gently lifted a mug from the cart and blew some steam away from the rim, lips hovering the ceramic. While L and Mr. Yagami began separating some of the files, you took a seat on the couch next to Matsuda, giving him a light elbow in the side.

“Hey, did you know that was a test?” You whispered.

Matsuda looked at you wide eyed, “What? No way! Ryuzaki never tells me anything when he plans stunts like that!”

You raise an eyebrow and turn to look at everyone else in the room, “Ryuzaki..?”

Your eyes stop when they meet L’s, who was staring at you as if he was involved in the conversation from the beginning. You avert your gaze awkwardly and turn your attention back to the warm mug in your hands, cheeks slightly warm. Most people look away when they get caught staring…

“My apologies for any confusion. I’ve told the group they can call me Ryuzaki or L during this investigation. Given that we know Kira needs a name and face to kill, it only makes sense.”

Mogi shifts in his seat with a slight tick in his eyebrow and mumbles lowly, “Yea as if you didn’t already know everything about us though.”

You turn to the man and then back at L, or Ryuzaki, or whoever, noticing the tension in the room.

“Ah I see.” You say lightly, trying to progress the conversation and go back to the main objective at hand.

With prolonged silence now hanging over everyone, you reach forward to grab two small sugar cubes and place them into your coffee before taking a sip. In your peripherals you can see Ryuzaki watching every movement of your hands but never saying anything. This time when you lock eyes he turns away first.

Mr. Yagami lets out a slight cough and begins passing folders out to everyone, “Alright enough small talk, these folders contain some of the tapes the Second Kira had sent to the news stations. Let's split into teams and see what we can cover.”

Placing the mug on the coffee table, you reached forward to grab a folder and flip through the contents.

“Lets have Mogi and Mr. Yagami compare the DNA found in forensics to what we currently have in the database. Matsuda and Y/N, please look at the transcriptions and real Kira suicide notes to look for any irregularities. Aizawa, please extend our list of contacts to include radio broadcasters as well,” Ryuzaki takes the hangnail on his thumb between his teeth while speaking, “We don’t know if the Second Kira has made contact with Kira #1… but there’s a chance they may get desperate and try other outlets of communication if they haven’t already. I’ll be reviewing the 4 different outcome tapes on the television if anyone needs my assistance. Ok?”

There’s a unified “yes!” after he finished speaking, the small teams immediately breaking off into separate sections of the hotel room.

You sit at the kitchen table of the vast suite, skimming your hands over various transcriptions, each one describing an unyielding obligation to the cause of Kira. You tilt your head and furrow your brows between the two documents in your hands.

“Hey Matsuda?”

“Hmm?”

“These two are completely different in terms of voice, grammar, everything..”

Matsuda looks up from his own set of papers and leans in over your shoulder, letting out an awkward laugh, “Oh I should have said this earlier- we actually wrote some of them pretending to be Kira in order to get the Second Kira talking. Why don’t we pile up the ones the team made and focus only on ones from Second Kira.”

Your mouth formed a small ‘O’ at his statement before nodding. Matsuda skims through the files, deftly collecting the papers of which the task force had authored into a neat pile and sliding you a different stack of notes to analyze. This time the stack included the real Kira authored suicide notes. You mutter a ‘thanks’ and go back to your position hovering over the table and straining your neck. For some reason you can’t shake the feeling of wanting to analyze the ones against the transcription the task force had authored. Just focus. You let out a breath and get to work.

****

After what seems like a few hours the group is called back into the main living room to discuss everyone’s progress. Mr. Yagami stands first, “Well the DNA on all the videotapes matches each other. It’s definitely the same person sending these.”

Mogi rubs his hand on the back of his neck with some frustration, “The DNA is in the police database; not for a criminal record but one regarding a victim of a crime. It may take some time before we can get approval to unseal the records… But at least we will know for sure who our suspect is within a few days; a week at max!”

The group hums with energy at the lead and Ryuzaki takes the nail of his thumb in between his lips again turning his attention to you.

Matsuda stands and points to a few lines on the paper, “We noticed a particular line about ‘showing notebooks in Aoyama’. It’s out of place and might be an indication that the Second Kira wants to use this as a meeting place.”

Ryuzaki nods and shuts his eyes, “I was thinking the same thing.. Now if there’s nothing else-”

“Wait.”

Ryuzaki opens his eyes and turns his attention back to you and Matsuda looks down with a slight puzzled expression.

You pick at your nails in nervousness for a moment and look at the group, “I don’t want to jump to any conclusions here but I noticed some similarities in the actual Kira suicide notes and the transcript you all had made..”

Mr. Yagami’s face pales and he stutters a few words out before Ryuzaki lifts his hand without even looking to silence him. The hangnail now forgotten, he leans in over the armrest of the couch only inches away from your face, as if he wanted to study every detail.

“Really? That’s very interesting Y/N please continue your reasoning,” his voice is the most energetic you’ve heard it.

The proximity makes you instinctively lean back until he closes the distance so far you have no more room to move. Almost smelling the scent of sweet coffee on his breath you nervously exhale and lift both the task force written transcript and a suicide note from Kira.

“The wording on the on the Kira suicide notes are very egotistical to me. It’s taunting like he’s one step ahead and in a position of earned authority,” you then tilt your head to the scripted video, “and this mentions about bestowing forgiveness. It’s an uncannily similar voice to a person in a position of power looking down on the recipient.”

Ryuzaki leans in almost a millimeter closer before sinking back into his seat with an eerie smile on his face. You hesitate, not putting either document down and seemingly staring back into the trance of his eyes.

“Isn’t that good though? Your ability to write an extremely good dupe..?” You're barely whispering it to Ryuzaki with your entire focus on him. His eyes don’t leave yours, and it feels like this is an entire conversation between just the two of you.

“Oh I didn’t write that.”

For a moment your eyes widen and the illusion of a private conversation comes crashing down around you. Before you can part your lips for clarification Mr. Yagami’s voice booms out from across the coffee table, “Enough of this Ryuzaki! I thought you invited Light to this investigation for him to help us!”

Light?

You were well acquainted with the Yagami family, having spent nearly the same amount of time with them as your own household. Light was extremely intelligent, well spoken, and borderline perfect at everything he did; it makes sense Ryuzaki would want him working this case.

Though where was he? You scanned the room quickly from your seat. Oh yea, class. An unfortunate situation you could relate to, considering you had a 9am lecture tomorrow morning and it was already 8pm.

“I did invite him for his help. I just find Y/N’s observation extremely interesting. I’m aware this situation makes you uncomfortable, but having now a second person make a connection raises my suspicion of him to 10%.”

“He was writing that note while trying to sound like Kira. Don’t you think questioning him for doing his task well is a bit much?”

Your head was beginning to hurt. Light was a suspect of being Kira? It didn’t make any sense, surely there had to be a mistake. You turned your attention back to the conversation between Mr. Yagami and Ryuzaki, noting the intensity of fire in each of their eyes. They were being serious? I guess that makes sense as to why L wanted to test me when I first came in. And why the group seemed so uneasy at the earlier mention of one of them being Kira.

“You’ve probably filled in the gaps haven’t you?”

Your eyes shoot up to meet Ryuzaki’s, the distance between your faces short, but not nearly as close as he was earlier. Unconsciously, you lick your bottom lip with a slight stress on your face and nod slightly.

Mr. Yagami sighs and sinks into his seat, his head cradled by his left hand. The group looks around each other awkwardly and Ryuzaki lets out a sigh of exasperation which indicates they’ve all had this conversation before.

“Let’s take a slight reccess please? Y/N you should probably start heading home for your classes tomorrow.”

You look up at Mr. Yagami, and the group mumbles in agreement, slowly standing up and stretching.

“Nice work today rookie. Can’t wait to see what you figure out next,” Mogi says genuinely while placing a supportive hand on your shoulder.

You grin up at him and wave bashfully, it wasn’t like you solved the case. Yet. You could practically hear his recommendation letter now and the thought of it was enough to spark some energy.

As the group shuffled out to take either vending machine or smoke breaks, you noticed Ryuzaki staring at you while you slipped your jacket over your shoulders. He was usually staring at you anyways, but this one was different; before you could even raise an eyebrow he stood up and walked to the bedroom door. Glancing at you once before slipping inside.

With a quick scan of your surroundings to make sure no one was watching, you casually walked over to door and stepped inside as if it were the exit. The bedroom in question was barely a bedroom at all. A desk stacked with hundreds of papers sat by the window, bookshelves lined the walls, and the floor was littered with evidence boxes. The only thing that made it a bedroom was the king size bed made neatly and untouched against the wall jutting into the center of the room.

Ryuzaki was standing at the desk, digging through a box mumbling to himself about if ‘Watari had moved it’ before pulling out a small cellphone and turning to you.

“Ah, I’m glad you got my signal.”

Signal? He stared without blinking and then casually walked into another room. It wasn’t so much as following a signal as it was making sure he wasn’t having a stroke.

“Yea, is there something you wanted to speak about?”

Ryuzaki looked at the door and then motioned for you to come closer; which you obediently did without even a second guess. Only inches apart he studied your face again, “I’m glad you picked up on that note sounding a little too authentic. The very notion drives Mr. Yagami up the wall.”

You nod, “I mean it makes sense, it’s not exactly a light accusation.”

Ryuzaki follows your words and then twitches as if he were re-listening to them; only catching the joke on the third time through. A small smile cracks his face and he tilts his head to the side, “Yes I agree. Being accused of Kira is a heavy burden, especially considering the life in prison sentence or death penalty when caught.”

The air deflated out of you.

You suck in a breath defeated, “Yep.. so why exactly did you call me in here?”

“I needed to speak in private,” Ryuzaki gnaws at his bottom lip with his canines and then locks eyes with you again, “What I’m about to ask needs to remain between us.”

Immediately your eyes widen and heat rushes to your face. The proximity of him seems to magnify everything and a warm feeling began to brew in your lower abdomen. The low lighting of the room, the intimate whisper of his voice, and the large king bed in your peripheral skewed any assumption of what he was about to say next.

I need to go out and touch grass. Call some friends, go on a date, do something. This guy is a total weirdo and I’m standing here shaking like fucking teenager.

You nod, not wanting to even speak and risk the shakiness of your voice being heard by him.

“You go to the same school as Light, correct? I’d like you just to keep an eye on him while you’re both on campus if that’s alright.”

You look from one eye to the other, taking a moment to pause and reflect on his proposal. The length of your hesitation was enough to make L backtrack slightly, “If you’re uncomfortable with that I completely underst-”

“I’ll do it.”

His eyes widen and blink twice before a small smile breaks his lips again, “I’m glad. I don’t have much time to go to campus or classes anyways so it’ll be nice to have to monitor him while I stay here.”

You nod in understanding before double taking at his words, “Wait do you go there too?”

Ryuzaki now fiddles with the cellphone in hands, typing rapidly and not bothering to look up, “Hm? Oh yes I entered the school to keep track of Light, but I won’t need to follow him around there if you’re willing to help me.”

You swallowed, noting the way he casually mentioned going to the university you were initially rejected from as if you asked him the weather.

Before you can mumble anything under your breath, Ryuzaki gently takes your hand in his and flips it to be facing palm-up. With his hand still on your wrist, the other places a cellphone into the palm and he looks at you intently.

“It’s important to note that on the off-chance Light really is Kira, it means he’s willing to risk killing to protect himself. I have emergency belts for everyone, but I’d also like you to have this.”

His hand falls to his side after a moment of them lingering a beat too long and he takes half a step back; turning to face his desk but not looking at anything in particular.

You click a few buttons on the phone and notice the way he had already placed his contact information into the device. A small grin grazes your lips and you slip the phone into your back pocket, “This way I can text information without sending a SOS? Plus it probably looks more natural anyways.”

Ryuzaki turns back to you, his hands firmly at his sides like they weren't just around your own, “Exactly. Besides, Light will learn you work with us shortly and he’ll start being on guard. If he thinks that cellphone is your personal one, he won’t think twice about you using it in front of him casually.”

A wave of excitement washes over you, fieldwork was always your favorite and this felt like a borderline James Bond movie.

“You got it!”

Ryuzaki pulls out his own cellphone from his baggy denim pocket and begins typing into it, “I’ll have Watari drive you home tonight. Would you like an escort to class tomorrow?” His eyes briefly look into yours with an emotion that could almost be described as hope. Almost.

Instinctively you raise your hands, “No that’s alright. I can just take the metro.”

Ryuzaki nods curtly but you continue, “But if you can arrange a ride after my classes to here that would be nice.”

His eyes hold yours for a moment and he turns away to his desk, this time walking up to the wooden drawers and digging through them, “Alright. I’ll tell Watari, just send your course schedule when you have the moment.”

Ryuzaki never turns back around and after a few moments of an awkward silence you spin to leave the room without either of you saying a word. The weird intimacy of the moment left you feeling an emotion you couldn’t quite pin point.

After saying your goodnights to the group and following Watari to the black luxury Sedan in the parking lot, the image of a warm shower and snuggling into bed seemed to be calling your name. Shoes clicking on the ground, you slid into the seat of the opened passenger door Watari had opened and watched him walk around to get into the driver’s seat.

Quickly telling him your address you found yourself staring out the window and for a split second, seeing the figure of a man watching you from the penthouse suite you had just exited. But by the time you blinked he was gone; the only thing pulling you from your thoughts was the slight buzz from your back pocket of the phone Ryuzaki had given you.

Ryuzaki:

Please be careful tomorrow. Let me know if anything goes wrong.

#fanfic #death note #l x reader #lawliet #lawliet x reader #l x yn #lawliet x yn #oatmealwordslawliet #L #light yagami #misa amane

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allthingsfangirl101 · 25 days ago

Text

*Neighbors With Benefits – Glen Powell

Warnings: language, hooking up, friends with benefits, unprotected sex

I was walking down the hall, digging through my purse, so I didn't notice it at first. But when I did, a smirk instantly formed on my face. Under my doorstep was an old menu from a restaurant that no longer exists. I leaned down and picked it up. I glanced over at his apartment and instantly knew what I was going to wear to his place tonight.

I walked into my apartment and dropped my bag on the kitchen table. I kicked off my shoes and instantly started getting ready. I did my hair in big, loose curls. I put on the red lipstick that always made him bite my lips. I slipped on the black lingerie that I never had on longer than the time it took him to open the door and pull me inside his place.

When Glen Powell moved in, it was shortly after Top Gun: Maverick came out. Most girls I worked with freaked out when they found out he lived in my building. Me? I didn't care. My mom is a makeup artist for several movie departments. I grew up around famous people.

A little over a year ago, something shifted between Glen and me. After an incredibly exhausting day at work, I slammed my hand on the buttons, demanding the elevator to hurry up. The elevator doors were about to close when someone quickly stopped them. Glen drunkenly stumbled in. After one quick conversation about how work sucks and we both needed a way to disconnect from the day, we ended up in his bed.

After that, Glen and I randomly started hooking up. We used the old menu under the other's doorstep to signal that we needed a night to disconnect. If the menu was under your doorstep, you went to the other person's apartment at your earliest convenience. Glen usually came right away. I liked to get dressed up for him. The sexier I dressed, the easier it was to please him.

I slipped on my coat and grabbed my phone and keys on my way out of my apartment. I tossed my hair, leaned against the doorway, and knocked.

"There you are," he growled as soon as he swung the door open.

"Sorry, baby," I purred. "I had to get ready for you."

I undid my jacket and let it pool at my feet.

"Fuck," he moaned. He grabbed my waist and brought me roughly to him. He leaned down and smashed his lips to mine. I instantly wrapped my arms around his neck and started kissing him back.

I groaned when he pushed me against his doorway. He tore his lips away from mine and reattached them to my neck. As he went between biting and sucking on my skin, I decided to play with him a little.

"Did you have a bad day at work today, honey bunny?" I asked, my voice dripping with sweetness.

"The worst," he growled against my collarbone.

"Awww, I'm so sorry, sweetie pie," I said as I reached up and started running my fingers through his hair. He moaned when I pulled on a few strands. "I want to help you forget all about it, baby boy. What do you need me to do?"

He tore away from me, his eyes filled with lust. From the way he was looking at me, I knew exactly what was going to happen tonight and more importantly, what he wanted to happen tonight.

I gasped when Glen easily picked me up and carried me into his apartment. In a matter of minutes, our clothes were scattered around his room. When I shivered, Glen instantly pulled his thin comforter up over us so it shielded our bodies.

"Sorry, it's so cold in here," he whispered. "But I can't help but keep it nice and. . . nippy when you come over."

"Naught boy," I whispered as I slid my hands up his bare chest and wrapped my arms around his neck.

"I can't help it," he said, glancing down at my bare chest. I gasped but quickly turned it into a moan as he pressed his lips to mine. Our lips moved in sync as he grabbed my thighs and opened them wide enough. I smirked against his lips as I wrapped my leg around his waist.

I broke the kiss and arched my back when he roughly pushed into me. Glen smirked and let out a deep chuckle as each thrust made me arch my back and moan.

"There we go, gorgeous," he groaned. "Fuckin' hell."

"Tell me," I moaned. "Tell me what you need, baby."

I bit my lip when he leaned in and started sucking on my neck. "Nothing," he growled against my skin. "Just you, baby girl."

"That's what I'm here for, daddy."

"Fuck!" He yelled, pushing himself even more into me. I let him take control. I was there to make him happy. Whatever he needed, I let him have. Whatever he wanted, I did it.

We let out large sighs as he rolled off of me. I looked over and smirked when I saw him breathing heavily and his eyes tightly squeezed shut.

"Holy fuck!" Glen laughed. I made him gasp when I quickly moved so I was straddling his stomach. "Double fuck," he mumbled.

I grabbed his wrists and put them above his head, leaning over him. "Do you want to talk about your day, honey?" I asked, my voice low.

"The day's already happened?" He mumbled, his eyes scanning my body.

"Yes, it did," I whispered, my face inches from his. My lips brushed his as I said, "Good to know I have the ability to erase your memory."

To respond, he grabbed my face and smushed my lips to his. I giggled as I moved my lips against his. I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling on strands to get him to moan.

Our tongues danced as Glen slightly readjusted underneath me. I scooted down, realigning myself. Glen bit my lip when I moved my hips and made him slip into me. Our lips continued to move in sync as our hips joined in.

Glen pressed his hands to my back, pulling me closer to him as he rolled us over. He broke the kiss and slightly pulled his hips away from mine, enough to readjust. I arched my back when he pushed into me. My eyes were squeezed shut and my hands gripped his shoulders for stability as he rocked into me.

A few more thrusts sent us over the edge. Again. He pulled out of me and rolled off. He lay next to me and instantly returned his eyes to me.

"Fucking hell, baby girl," he said, out of breath. "I never get tired of this."

"Good," I smirked as I rolled onto my side, draping my arm across his bare stomach. "Finding a good fuck partner is hard to do."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me so I was lying on top of him. He leaned up and pressed a messy kiss to my lips. Our lips instantly started moving roughly in sync. I broke the kiss and slowly sat up.

"Sorry, baby boy," I said, playfully smacking his pecks. "I'm gonna need a minute before I go a third time."

I got out of bed and instantly grabbed one of his flannels. I slipped it on, not buttoning it right away. Instead, I turned toward him and smirked at him still lying in bed. I smirked when I saw his eyes closed as he breathed heavily. I walked over, knelt on the edge, and leaned down. Glen moaned as I messily kissed him.

Without breaking the kiss, Glen grabbed my thighs and moved me so I was straddling his stomach. As our lips moved messily in sync, Glen slid his hands under the flannel, pushing it so it was barely hanging on my shoulder. I broke the kiss but stayed hovering over him. His eyes fluttered shut as I started grinding my body against his.

"Is this what you needed, baby?"

"Exactly," he moaned. His eyes opened and they were dark with lust. "This was exactly what I needed, baby girl."

I gently pressed my lips to his, breaking the kiss too quickly. "Glad I could help, sexy."

"Pleasure was all mine," he groaned as I got off of him. I blew him a kiss before turning my back to him. I stretched, purposefully making his shirt rise up on me.

"Damn," I heard him moan under his breath. I smirked as I slowly lowered my arms back down. I started buttoning up the flannel and was about to go clean myself up in the bathroom but Glen stopped me.

"I'm in love with you."

Those words made me freeze. I turned around with my shirt partly buttoned.

"You're what?" I asked. Glen got out of bed without breaking eye contact. I didn't notice my hands were still frozen on the bottom of my shirt until Glen grabbed them and pulled them away.

"I said," he repeated, pulling me into him, "I'm in love with you, Y/N."

"No," I said slowly as I pulled my hands out of his.

"No?"

"No," I repeated. "You can't. . . You can't be in love with me, Glen. We're just. . . We're neighbors. With benefits. We hook up after a rough day."

"Haven't you noticed that we hook up at least three times a week, most of the time more?" He asked, oddly cheerful to my response. "We are so past neighbors with benefits, Y/N."

"We are?" I asked, my voice soft. Glen gently grabbed my chin before pressing his lips to mine. This kiss was so much softer than any that we've shared. When he broke the kiss, he leaned his forehead against mine.

"We are," he whispered. He leaned back and looked directly into my eyes as he said, "I know that when we first started hooking up, it was just about the release. Let's be honest, Y/N, we were using each other. But it became so much more than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Sure, it started out that way, but somewhere along the way, it changed," he explained. "I didn't just want to see you to hook up. I mean, I like hooking up with you. Like really like it. But I realized that the time we spent talking, naked in bed, did more for me than hooking up. Talking to you, asking for advice, hearing you tease me about my actor's first-world problems, and joking with you helped me more than you know. A few months ago, I started wanting to see you every single day. I wanted to come home and go straight to your apartment. Not just to hook up, but to talk. To see your beautiful face. To listen to your precious voice. To stare into your enchanting eyes. To hold you in my arms. To hear your breathing slow as you fall asleep on my chest. To make love to you knowing I was the only man who got to do that to you. I need to be the only man, Y/N. Please, tell me I'm the only man who gets to make love to you."

"You are," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I swear, Glen, you're the only guy I've been seeing."

"Good," he chuckled as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer. He was about to lean in and kiss me again, but something stopped him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he smiled as he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. "I just. . . I don't want to be just neighbors with benefits, Y/N."

"I don't want that either." I stood on my toes and pressed my lips to his. I broke the kiss even though he tried to deepen it. "Isn't there something you have to ask me before we can become official?" I teased him as I tightened my arms around his neck.

"I believe there is," he chuckled as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close to his chest. "Y/N, will you go on a date with me? One that will mostly definitely end in your bed and will definitely not end with me leaving the next morning."

#glen powell #glen #powell #glen powell imagines #glen powell fanfic #smut #glen powell smut

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anundyingfidelity · 8 months ago

Text

YES, MA’AM — Sam Winchester/Sam Wesson ft. Dean Winchester/Dean Smith (Chapter II)

Summary: Sam is the new tech support guy at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., and he thinks you, his supervisor, are related to him in ways more than professional. He not only dreams of ghosts and Dean Smith, the sales and marketing director, but you, the pretty boss who seems very fond of him, maybe a little too much.

Word count: 2.1k.

Pairing: Sam W./Sam Wesson x female reader (main), Dean W./Dean Smith x female reader. Situated in 4x17 - It's a Terrible Life.

Warnings for this series: smut with plot, sexual tension, sub!Sam, dom!reader, switch!Dean, co-workers with benefits with Dean, boss/employee dynamics, canon violence and stuff.

Warnings for this chapter: late night office rough sex with Dean, unprotected sex, guilty feelings for Sam, death as following the storyline of this episode but with slight changes.

If you'd like to be added, the taglist is here!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Chapter II: A Second Life

The elevators closed and your eyes were locked on Sam’s gaze the whole time, until he disappeared from your sight. A strange feeling washed over you, seeing him like that, but Dean’s lips back on your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin brought you back to reality.

Quickly, you forced yourself to take in the sweet sensation of his fingers undoing the buttons of your blouse and his mouth ghosting over your covered breasts. He sucked on your tits, after pushing the bra up, his long, thick fingers squeezing your flesh.

“Dean,” you moaned, throwing your head back slightly.

The sound of the elevator caused him to separate from your flesh and you tried your best to cover your body as he dragged you to his office. Everything was quiet, no soul could be seen but you. This wasn’t the first time you had the pleasure of having him between your legs, but work had been busy and you were craving for release for such a long time.

He felt the same, judging by the way he pushed you against the wall once inside his office. How his lips kissed yours in a heated, needy gesture, his tongue finding its place inside your mouth, earning breathy moans from you. His hands withdrew your blouse, and he exposed your breasts again. Soon, he pulled up your skirt and your panties were discarded on the floor. With a gasp, you were between the wall and his body holding you, and he grinded his hips against your cunt. Dean hissed, feeling your legs wrapping around his waist and your hand unzipping his trousers to free his cock, hard and ready for you.

“Rough or gentle?” he asked, voice full of lust as he looked at you with half hooded eyes and that smirk of his.

“I’m stressed today, so you’d say,” you teased, stroking his hard length, feeling the pre cum already leaking.

“Of fucking course,” Dean hissed before pressing his lips on yours once again, one of his hands going between your legs to rub your folds, coating your clit with your own juices and stretching you out slowly with his digits for a moment. He smirked when a breathy moan passed your lips. “Rough it’ll be.”

You bit your lip, feeling the tip of his cock rubbing on your wet slit. “You know me so well.”

Your throbbing pussy welcomed him, as he slid inside you with a smooth movement of his hips. Dean started to pound into you against the wall, holding your thighs firmly with his hands. There was always something so beautiful and hot he found on you each time you were like this, with your eyes shut and mouth open, moaning and whimpering sweetly, while he fucked you. He loved how messy you were, how stupidly dirty you could get when the two of you were together.

The tight walls of your cunt fluttered around his cock as Dean began to leave harsh and wet kisses on your breasts, playing with your nipple with his mouth, one of his hands working on the other. You squirmed under his touch, your legs around his waist started to feel strained, but you don’t care as much as he keeps fucking you into oblivion. You moaned particularly loud when his cock reached the deepest spot inside you, and you felt so damn close.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, giving a particularly harsh thrust and making you moan again.

You covered your mouth with your hand to suppress the noises coming out, but it only caused Dean to rut even harder, until you came first. He increased the rhythm of his hips, twitching inside your convulsing walls, and finally got himself spilling inside you. Dean bucked his hips the last couple of times before carrying you with him until he sat down on the nearest chair in front of his desk, you on his lap trying to catch your breath and recover from your amazing high. Still buried deep inside your pussy, he caressed softly your thighs as you hid your face on the crook of his neck.

Despite all the rough fuck you just had, Dean always took good care of you, waiting until you be better to get up and leave. With you, he had been open to explore more than just a quick fuck sometimes. Whether it be his dominant side on you, or the overwhelming control you had on him, Dean just knew he was completely lost in your body and how well you’d work on his wishes and longings, despite this being an arrangement you both had settled for sex and sex only. Still lost in thoughts after a few minutes in a pleasant silence, you leaned back and pulled his softening cock out of you and made yourself comfortable on his laps, your skirt still rolled up and your panties pushed to the side that you didn’t bother to fix.

“Thank you,” you softly beamed at him, kissing the corner of his lips. “You’ve always been awesome at this.”

He chuckled, taking in the messy and disheveled look you had on. “You’re not so bad yourself, baby.”

You took your hand and caressed his cheek. “Maybe next time I could make a couple of moves on you… Fuck you my way perhaps.”

“Oh, yeah? Can’t wait for you to show me.”

The next day you were better than ever as you strolled on your floor. Employees were gathering around already, but there was a fuss in the back, specifically coming from the break room. You made your way through the people, and you saw the body of one of your eldest employees being carried out by the authorities. Without noticing exactly, you stood up by Sam’s side.

“What happened?” you asked in disbelief.

“They think Paul got here pretty early, and, uhm, killed himself with the microwave,” Sam replied, looking away in the direction they took the corpse.

He was avoiding your eyes, but you didn’t care that much at that moment, considering the situation. And you did your best to keep it cool, thinking about what he had witnessed in that stupid elevator. It was so silly; you just started speaking to Sam three weeks ago since he began working there and now, it suddenly was as if you were cheating on him.

But you were forced to remind yourself it was not the moment, nor the place to wander on that. An employee of yours had supposedly committed suicide and you just remembered what he had been waiting for since a couple of months ago.

“Oh god, he was just about to retire,” you mumbled, crossing your arms on your chest. “How could it be? He seemed perfectly fine, but I guess you don’t know in the end.”

“Yeah, I guess so…” Sam answered and he looked directly at you for just a couple of seconds. “Sorry, I need to go. Haven’t punched for my shift,” he said before going away with long strides, and you were left all by yourself.

Dean, who was witnessing your small conversation a few feet away, approached you immediately. The rest of the employees leaving the door frame as well.

“Hey,” Dean started, keeping his face stern and with a professional tone of voice.

“Hey…”

“I’m so sorry,” he continued as you started the way back to your office.

“Yeah, uhm, thank you,” you stuttered. “Actually, I don't know how to feel.”

“It’s pretty normal. It’s not like a situation we encounter everyday, so I understand it.”

Dean stopped once you did outside your office. You gave him a nod and a half smile that disappeared quickly.

“I guess so… I will have to write and prepare something for his family, sorry if anything we came up with is not on my plans anymore…”

“Absolutely no need to apologize to me, I get it. You’re gonna be fine,” he insisted, squeezing your shoulder in a friendly manner.

You knew your relationship was just physical, but this time you really needed to get it sorted out. He would always show you he understands.

“Thanks, Dean,” you smiled before leaving him in the hall.

When you locked yourself inside your office, he sighed deeply. Something was wrong, he thought while walking away. He got a quick glance of Sam, the guy who he had seen outside the elevator the day before and the one who spoke to you just moments ago. There was something weird about him too, and Dean remembered him asking if they knew each other when, in reality, Dean was sure he had never seen Sam through all his life. Maybe there was a chance? A hunch? Something that probably could connect them after all? Or maybe he was going insane. To sort out the curiosity he suddenly felt about the whole situation, Dean decided to look up Paul's file in the archives by himself.

Once the day was over, you just wanted to head home. Mr. Adler, your boss and Dean’s superior, was putting a huge pressure on you to deliver the remaining files you still had on your email, not really showing a shred of sympathy at the sudden events going on in your teams’ floor. When the headache stopped being tolerable, you decided it was enough and that you should leave.

Closing the office door behind you, you saw Sam getting ready to leave as well. He had been staying late, without you knowing. He noticed you stopping by his cubicle and smiled awkwardly; you sensed the same shame you felt last night.

“Staying late I see,” you started.

“Yeah, I got some other things to do,” Sam answered, brushing his hair softly.

You took that in as a sign of lying, but said nothing as you both started to leave the empty office.

“Right,” you nodded.

A silence envolveded you and he dared to speak again. “I didn’t notice you coming around today.”

“I had things to do as well,” you replied with a soft smile on your lips, spreading the gesture on him too.

“Tough day, huh?”

“It really has been tough,” you tried to laugh it off.

There was a small hesitation building up inside you, wondering if you should leave or wait for him when Sam got his stuff from the locker. But in the end, you felt like staying and facing whatever it was you were feeling. Too many things were happening at the same time, with Dean and you hooking up, the sudden death, and now this weird tension with Sam and how he was avoiding you the whole day. So you waited for Sam to get out, and you walked together inside the elevator. It was just the two of you there.

“I’m sorry you had to see that yesterday,” you began, looking at him with brows furrowed. He had a blank face and you breathed deeply. “I’m not like that, I swear, I just, I don’t know, it felt like it, and—”

“Did we know each other before this?” he asked abruptly, interrupting your words. His eyes were locked on yours for the first time through the day.

“Excuse me?”

“I came here like three weeks ago, but I feel like I’ve known you more than that,” he explained with a serious expression.

Confused, you shook your head in slow motion. “No, I don’t think so… I don’t know.”

“But there’s something, right?”

“Sam, you’re scaring me—”

“Just think about it,” he insisted, taking a step forward to get close to you. “Why do you feel like this?”

Sam leaned more and more towards you, and honestly, you had a vague idea of what he was talking about. The mixed, weird feelings you experienced with him were so different from Dean. Not like you were in a relationship, however it certainly felt as if you had done something really, really wrong to Sam. But that didn’t hit you until morning.

“Like what?”

“Like if we shared more than just a professional relationship? Maybe in another life?”

There was a shared heat as the elevator went down. You didn’t have time to think further than that, but what if this wasn’t what you really were? Could be an option as to how that weird sensation had been scratching you every time you saw his beautiful face.

What if it was a dream? A very weird one that you’ve been trapped in with both of them being the center of everything. You were not sure. What you were sure of was how you loved Dean’s touch every time you were out of work, the way Sam would get nervous when you approached his desk to chat for a bit… The way they both looked at you with love and desire, just as how Sam was watching you right at that moment.

This time, you didn’t stop him from kissing you.

taglist: @nix-rose

#sam winchester x you #sam winchester x female reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x female reader #spn 4.17 #idk enjoy

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