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whoevenisjavier · 10 days ago

Text

EROTICA

part 1 | part 2

pairing: no outbreak!joel x reader

summary: Your thesis said, “analyze male behavior.” Joel said, “come sit on it.”

a/n: this is the 2nd part, which can't be read alone. i mean, you can read it without going through the first part (read it here), but you won't understand shit

additional tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. reader is 26, joel is 50ish. no outbreak. joel is a dad. conversations about porn. porn actor joel miller/javier peña. dirty talk. car sex. fingering. oral sex f! receiving.

wc: 6.5k

Out of shame, you avoid Joel the following week.

You dodge aisles when you see him at the supermarket, time your exits minute by minute to avoid running into him, and lock yourself in your bedroom like an emo teenager when your parents invite him over for dinner.

Because now, whenever you see him, all you can remember is his voice saying obscenities, his hands on women’s skin — and some men’s too. You remember yourself, in the privacy of your room, doing what you swore you would never do.

You even look up if there’s such a thing as a permanent fertile period, because none of this feels normal.

And of course, Joel confronts you about it.

On your father’s birthday night, he invites a few close friends over for a small cocktail party, followed by dinner. When you walk down the stairs, Joel is there, sitting in the living room armchair with a glass of whiskey in his right hand.

He’s listening to something your father is saying but glances at you. You immediately turn your back and head into the kitchen to see if your mother needs help.

Yesterday, you found a movie where Joel played a DEA agent rescuing a drug lord’s wife. He said so many filthy things to her while fucking her inside a police car that the words stuck in your head like Play-Doh in hair.

And maybe the area between your legs feels a little more sensitive too, which only makes you feel worse.

After the cocktail and dinner, spent tensely avoiding Joel’s gaze, you slip out into the backyard with a glass of wine in one hand and your Kindle in the other.

Inside, the party goes on, your father having opened another bottle of whiskey, and you can hear them from here. You need to stay out of your bedroom to keep yourself from typing "Javier Peña" into that damn search bar again, so for the next few minutes, you sip your wine and read.

“Finally, a place where you can’t hide behind the toilet paper aisle.”

Joel sits down on the chair next to you, holding his own whiskey glass. You lose your words because, yes, you actually did hide in the personal hygiene aisle yesterday when you saw him.

You play dumb.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know. You went all puritanical after you found out what you found out.”

“I told you it’s weird.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t need your approval. My life and career are my own. I said I would help you with your thesis, and I will, but if you keep running from me, someone’s going to think there’s something wrong between us.”

You take another sip of wine in silence, staring at the lawn like it’s salvation. Joel’s gaze burns into the side of your face before he asks:

“Have you watched any more?”

“For the thesis.” A lie.

“May I ask which one?”

“The DEA one.”

“Hmm.”

He finds your eyes as he sips his whiskey. He’s sitting with his legs spread, making his jeans stretch tight over his groin and thick thighs. And you know exactly what’s under those jeans.

You can’t resist your curiosity:

“Do you miss acting?”

“My ego does,” he says, like he’s thought about it a thousand times. “Not gonna lie, there’s a certain masculine pride in being a porn actor. It’s easier for men. But personally? No. Especially because of Sarah.”

“She knows?”

He shakes his head.

“She does. I told her when she turned fifteen because I’d rather she hear it from me than stumble across it online.”

“How did she react?”

“Well, I guess.”

You shake your head and cover your face with your free hand, groaning a little.

“I can’t stop wondering if my mom knows about you.”

“I hate to break it to you—”

You cut him off. “Shhh.”

His laugh is low but genuine. Your eyes meet again, and this time, you could swear his gaze dips a little lower, to the neckline of your dress, where a bit of flushed skin is showing thanks to the wine.

But he disguises it and gestures toward your Kindle:

“What are you reading?”

“Some articles to help with my research.”

“Have my films led you to any conclusions?”

“Um, definitely,” you say, staring at the lawn. “You cussed a lot. And you seem very interested in my opinion of your movies.”

“I'm curious.”

You internally roll your eyes. Men.

“You want a performance review? Aren’t the comments on XVideos enough?”

“I want yours.”

You ignore him, because your evaluation of his performance was made perfectly clear when you got yourself off twice in a row thinking about his voice.

Instead, you ask:

“Did the DEA girl really come? Because it looked real.”

Joel stays quiet for a while. When you glance at him, you notice a small smirk playing on his lips as he taps his fingers against his glass. His whiskey’s almost gone.

“Do you really want to get into that?”

“Why not?”

A few more seconds of silence. Then he seems to say "fuck it" internally and answers:

“I liked making the other actresses come. Some directors didn’t like it because it took longer, and ‘who cares if they actually orgasm if they can fake it,’” he says, making air quotes. “But I liked it. Not all of them, of course, and sometimes they’d tell me they were fine without it, but it was a preference of mine.”

“And the DEA girl?” you press.

“Was that your favorite?”

You shake your head.

“Which one was?”

You shake your head again, indicating you won’t tell him.

“The DEA girl was my ex-girlfriend,” he says.

“So it was real.”

Joel shrugs, and that's all the answer you need. The porch light behind you highlights his graying beard and the glint of whiskey on his lips. Your throat goes dry.

“How did you get into the industry?”

Joel clicks his tongue.

“Very personal question.”

“Okay, what made you leave?”

He glances at your wine glass and ignores the question, asking another instead:

“What wine is that?”

You consider not answering out of petty revenge, but your parents raised you better.

“Barefoot. I know it’s cheap, but I like it,” you swirl the red wine in your glass. “Even though I know I’ll wake up with a headache tomorrow.”

Joel rolls his eyes and stands, leaving his whiskey glass behind.

“Come on, bring your glass. I’ll give you some real wine.”

He starts walking toward the gate between your houses, and you have no choice but to follow, leaving your Kindle and the party behind. Joel’s broad shoulders guide you around the side of his house and into the kitchen.

It’s silent and dark, except for a single hallway light. Quietly, because Sarah is probably asleep, you pass through the kitchen and head to a door leading to the garage, where the lighting is dim at best. His truck takes up almost all the space.

Unsure of what to do, you hover at the door, watching as he enters a small room off the garage. It’s a little wine cellar, concrete walls lined with slanted mahogany shelves.

Joel comes back out with a bottle in hand. You recognize the label and freeze.

“You’re not about to open a Rockford Flaxman.”

“I am,” he says, brushing past you just enough to close the door behind you, locking the two of you in the garage. His scent hits you, and you fight the urge to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “Just closing the door so Sarah doesn’t wake up. Hand me your glass.”

“Joel, that bottle’s expensive.”

“Hand me your glass,” he repeats.

You give it to him. Joel pulls a corkscrew from a drawer you hadn’t noticed and pops the bottle open effortlessly. He fills your glass halfway and, as he hands it back to you, asks:

“Mind if we share the glass?”

You shake your head.

From another drawer, he grabs his truck keys, disables the alarm, and turns on a tiny, terrible-quality radio. Duran Duran starts playing.

Joel gestures toward the truck:

“Come on. We can sit inside.”

Heart pounding a little faster, palms sweating, you climb into the passenger side. You settle into the leather seat and finally take a sip of the good wine.

It tastes fruity and oaky, almost sweet on your tongue. You let out a long, contented hum.

“Really good,” you say after swallowing. “Best way to end the night.”

His fingers brush yours as he takes the glass. You watch him savor a sip before handing it back.

He speaks as he does:

“I left the industry because the doubts about real consent started eating at me,” he says, answering the question you asked earlier. Joel leans back in the seat, legs spread, head resting against the headrest, eyes closed. “And I’m not just talking about explicit consent. I mean about the people who were there because they had no other choice.”

“I can’t imagine anyone doing porn unless they had to,” you murmur.

“I get it, but some people genuinely like it,” he meets your gaze as you sip more wine. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m serious.”

“Maybe for men...”

“It’s more common among men, true.”

You offer him the glass. He drinks and gives it back.

“The agency that managed my films didn’t like it when I started giving interviews about that stuff. They gave me fewer scenes or scripts I’d never agree to do, and I had to start turning them down. When they began sabotaging me, I left.”

“Scripts you wouldn’t accept?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” you accept the short answer. “No other agency made you an offer?”

“They did, but when I left, I didn’t want to go back.”

“And yet, you defend the industry.”

“I don’t defend the industry—I defend the work I did, because I know how it was done. I don’t like when you generalize.”

“You know that sounds like ‘not all men,�� right? Of course not everyone was bad, but the industry itself is terrible. So when I criticize it, it’s the majority I’m talking about. And you were exploited too.”

He exhales deeply. There’s more you want to say, but you sense it’s a sensitive topic, so you change the subject:

“Can I ask what you do now?”

“I invest,” he says simply. “I made a lot of money back then and wasn’t stupid enough to blow it on parties and drugs. I invested in public and private construction companies, and now they pay me back.”

“Didn’t expect that.”

Joel gives you a look.

“Male privilege. I got into a lot of good deals just because I was Javier Peña.”

“That wouldn’t happen to an actress,” you guess, and he nods. “So now you just live off your investments.”

“Pretty much.”

The wine in your glass runs out. Joel notices, grabs the bottle, and this time drinks straight from it. You mimic him, putting the glass in the back seat.

“How was it, being an actor?”

“Fun. Lots of parties, admiration, glamor, L.A., and sex all the time,” he says. “The downside was the strict diet, weekly waxing, and almost daily health tests. I probably have a permanent hole in my vein.”

“Did you only date people in the industry?”

“Not a rule, but it was easier, so mostly.”

“Sarah’s mom—”

“No, she wasn’t in it. She was a friend.”

You figure she’s not around anymore, considering you’ve never heard Sarah mention her.

“If someone offered you two million dollars today,” you start, trying to lighten the mood, and his face softens, “for a solo film. Just you, just masturbation. Would you do it?”

“No, because of Sarah. Okay, my old films are still out there, but they existed before she was born. It’s different.” Another sip of wine. Joel continues: “I don’t think I’d even know how to behave in front of a camera anymore.”

“That’s not the spirit of the Longest Cumshot Award winner.”

Joel’s eyes widen in shock, and you burst out laughing at yourself, raising both of your hands.

“I didn’t look it up, I swear. It’s just one of the first pictures that comes up when you search your name.”

“Tell me your favorite film,” he insists.

You think about refusing again, but the wine is warming your face and your throat, and the atmosphere is too cozy.

“The title is ridiculous,” you start, and he grunts for you to hurry up. “Something like ‘Lust Lives Next Door.’”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Where he’s the neighbor?”

Keeping a neutral expression, you sip more wine, feeling his gaze fixed on you.

“Why?” Joel asks.

“It felt so real. You looked so...”

You lose the words. He prompts you:

“So...?”

“I don’t know. You looked like you really wanted her. Sure, you always looked like that—you were an actor—but with her, it was different. At least to me.”

Joel studies you a moment longer. Then asks, seriously:

“Did you touch yourself watching it?”

Your cheeks burn.

“It’s normal,” you defend. “Inevitable.”

“Only with that one?”

“Joel.”

He exhales long and slow.

“If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll stop. I’ll walk you home.”

You open your mouth to joke about how ridiculous it is for him to walk you home when you’re literally neighbors, but the seriousness of his question leaves you speechless.

“I’m not a porn actress. I’m not used to this,” you murmur.

“Then just nod,” he suggests seriously. Your silence is taken as agreement.

He asks:

“Did you touch yourself to any other of my films?”

A pause, then...

You nod.

He breathes deeply.

“Did you watch my films only because of the thesis?”

You shake your head no.

“Do you imagine me doing those things to you?”

You feel like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. One step back, and you’ll be safe, intact but with a pounding heart. One step forward, and you’ll fall, jump, dive into whatever awaits below.

The blood in your ears almost drowns out the start of “Glory Box” by Portishead playing from that shitty little radio.

You take a step forward.

You nod.

Before he can ask anything else, you’re the one who speaks:

“Do you want to see?” you ask, fueled by all the liquid courage from the wine. You clarify, “How I touched myself.”

The answer comes immediately:

“Of course I do.”

You glance at the garage door, then at him, hardly believing you’re about to do this. Before shyness can take over, you close the passenger door, slip off your sandals, and adjust yourself on the seat so your back rests against the door and your legs stretch across the console. You place your feet in Joel’s lap, and you can’t help but notice the hard bulge pressing against his jeans—you have to fight the urge to abandon everything and just beg him to take you to his room and do whatever he wants with you.

Okay. You take a slow, steadying breath to calm your racing heart. Joel’s hand settles around your ankle, his thumb brushing the bone there, and that small point of contact anchors you.

The dress you’re wearing is short, so it only takes a small tug for the fabric to bunch around your waist. With bare legs, goosebumped skin, and heavy breaths, you hand him the wine bottle.

Joel accepts it without taking his eyes off you.

“I’m not as confident as your porn actresses,” you say, but to your own ears your voice sounds pathetically breathless.

His touch trails up to your shin and back down, his hand wrapping around your left foot. He says:

“If you knew how many times I imagined myself between your legs, you wouldn’t feel insecure right now.”

Your breasts ache against the thin fabric of your dress as you spread your legs. You slide your hand into your panties, and Joel doesn’t look directly at it—he watches your face instead. He studies your reaction when your lips part at the feeling of your fingers touching the sensitive, wet spot between your thighs.

The knowledge that he’s wanted this just as badly as you makes you bolder.

You tilt your head back, resting it against the car window, and look at the ceiling while you speed up your fingers. Everything feels so sensitive that you have to bite your lower lip to keep any sound from escaping.

“Fuck...” Joel murmurs, his touch sliding up your thigh. “I can hear how wet you are.”

“Give me your hand.”

Joel takes one last sip of wine and sets the bottle on the ground outside the truck before offering his hand to you. You barely manage to meet his eyes as you pull your panties aside and guide his rough fingers between your legs.

His fingers glide easily over your clit, so wet that it’s almost slippery, and the feeling is so good—his fingers are larger, different textured than your own—and he lets you use them like a toy.

Joel’s gaze finally drops to where your bodies meet. With his free hand, he palms himself through his jeans, starting to rub.

It’s too much for your mind to process.

You squeeze your eyes shut again, using both your hands to guide his and spreading your legs wider. You have to breathe through parted lips to stop yourself from moaning as he rubs that almost painfully sensitive spot over and over.

“Does it feel good using my fingers like that?” he asks, voice hoarse. You nod. “Then let me fuck you with them.”

You whisper your agreement, guiding his fingers lower after making sure they’re slick enough. You press down gently, and his middle finger sinks inside you with a wet sound.

“Joel…”

“Hearing you moan like that and it’s not even my cock yet,” he mutters, fucking you slowly with his middle finger. “Let me add another one.”

You nod. He adds another finger, and you barely manage to hold in the moan, especially when he starts moving them in a slow, delicious rhythm, dragging the strokes out rather than speeding up.

It all happens so fast. One second Joel is pulling you lower, sliding your ass almost onto the console, and the next, he’s bending down and putting his mouth on you—his tongue tracing a quick, hot path from your entrance to your clit.

You clap a hand over your mouth and grab his hair with the other, the graying strands slipping through your fingers. The position can’t be comfortable for him, half off the driver’s seat and bent over you, but he doesn’t seem to care. His lips close over your clit, sucking and licking, while his fingers keep fucking you. His beard scrapes the sensitive skin of your thighs and the slick heat between your legs—and somehow, that only makes you hotter.

You tug his hair harder, pulling him closer into you, and you swear he’s smiling against you, his mouth opening over your clit.

The third finger teases your entrance, and just that promise is enough—you come with a muffled gasp, both hands buried in Joel’s hair as you ride his face. His beard will definitely leave marks on your skin.

Joel waits patiently until your body stops pulsing around his fingers, even though his occasional licks don’t exactly help. Then he pulls his mouth away and sits back in the driver’s seat, wiping his beard with his hand to clear the mess you left behind.

You barely have time to catch your breath before he grabs you with one hand and, steadying your hips with both, pulls you straight onto his lap.

“Hi,” you whisper, still breathless.

“Hi,” he says back.

“You kiss?”

“What?” He smiles, brushing a lock of hair off your forehead. “You asking if I know how to kiss?”

“I’m asking if you have any rules against it, because I really, really want to kiss you.”

“You do?” His thumb brushes over your lower lip, the crease between his brows soft and nearly invisible. “I’m all yours.”

With that permission, you wrap your arms around his neck and move closer, trying to control your ragged breathing. You keep your eyes locked on his as you kiss his bottom lip, then his top, tracing them with the tip of your tongue, pressing your thumbs under his jaw to coax his mouth open.

You run your tongue across the opening, and Joel fists your hair at the nape of your neck, finally taking the lead and kissing you back.

You’re consumed by the taste of expensive wine, a kiss you’d only ever imagined through a computer screen—and you realize the actresses hadn’t been faking their moans, because when Joel sucks your tongue into his mouth for the first time, the sensation ripples right through the core of you, and you whimper softly into his mouth.

“Take off your panties,” he murmurs against your lips as he trails kisses along your chin, your jaw, and down your neck. You move with him, adapting to the pace and hunger of his kisses.

As he reaches your collarbones, Joel tugs the thin straps of your dress down and pushes the fabric until it bunches at your waist. Your breasts are exposed to the cool garage air—and to his hungry mouth.

“Joel…”

His tongue laps at your nipple, and he grows impatient. He slides a hand between your thighs and yanks your panties down with little care. You hear the lace tear but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when seconds later Joel is maneuvering you onto your knees so he can pull the ruined panties off completely.

Then he balls the fabric in his left hand and brings it to his nose.

It should feel ridiculous—like some cheap porno move—but it doesn’t.

He isn’t doing it for show.

He’s doing it because—

Joel grabs your hair again, keeping you firmly in place, and lifts the panties to your own nose. His mouth hovers at your ear as he says:

“See?” Joel’s lips skim down your neck. You catch the unmistakable scent of your own arousal, and your cheeks burn. “You’ve been dripping wet since the moment you walked into this garage.”

“You’re wrong,” you say, pressing his arm to press the panties harder against your nose. You inhale loud enough for him to hear and murmur, “I’ve been wet since the moment you sat next to me in the backyard.”

Joel looks at you, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He stuffs the panties into the front pocket of his worn jeans before unbuttoning and pushing them down along with his boxers.

You probably stare at his cock like an idiot, because seeing it on a screen was one thing, but seeing it now—right in front of you, the subtle changes from age only making it better—hits you hard.

“You’re smiling. What, is my dick funny?” Joel asks.

You shake your head.

“Your dick is practically a shrine to me.”

Joel rolls his eyes, wiping the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“I’m real fucking close to come just looking at you,” he mutters, and you feel a flicker of disappointment, but it seems to be true, especially given how hard he is.

Joel shifts you into place on his lap, adjusting you like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

He leans back against the seat, partially reclining, and grips his cock with one hand.

“Come here,” he says lowly, pulling you by your thighs. When his thick cock nestles between your legs, you realize what he wants.

You brace yourself on his shoulders, biting your lip to keep any sounds from escaping as you lift onto your knees just enough to start sliding yourself against him.

The slickness between your legs makes it easy—wet and slippery—and Joel groans, tipping his head back against the seat.

God.

He looks huge beneath you, between your thighs, in the way his hands grip your hips and travel along your waist and back up. The rigid heat of him rubs directly over your clit with every glide, and you wrap your hand around the base of his cock to press him even harder against you as you move.

Joel’s hands grip your hips so hard you wonder if you’ll have bruises tomorrow. He glances down between you, where your wetness has coated him, and mutters a filthy curse between his clenched teeth.

“These tits…” he growls, lowering his mouth back to your breasts, drawing you even closer. “Can you come like this?”

You nod, tugging his curls at the nape of his neck, moving faster when he sucks a nipple into his mouth, leaving a trail of wet heat on your skin.

“Turn around,” Joel orders, licking the corner of your mouth. “I want to come on your ass.”

You obey instantly.

He helps you twist around so your knees stay on the seat but your back is pressed against his chest.

Joel runs his cock through your soaked folds, nudging your clit with the head.

He gathers your hair in one hand, pulling it aside so he can kiss the sensitive skin at the base of your neck.

“Rub yourself on it,” he says, voice rough. Your only support is the steering wheel in front of you, which you cling to as you rock your hips back and forth, grinding down along his shaft.

“You’re gonna fucking kill me doing exactly what I tell you,” he mutters against your ear.

“I like when you tell me what to do,” you whisper, barely able to form the words with the way that familiar tension is building fast in your stomach.

“Yeah, baby, I can tell by how soaked you are.”

You don’t answer, focusing only on your own pleasure now, shifting so the thick length of him is perfectly aligned against your clit.

Your leg trembles, your mind blanking with the focus on your orgasm, and you have to bite down on your sweaty arm to keep from crying out his name.

“Feels good?” you ask, panting.

“Jesus Christ, sweetheart,” Joel rasps, his hand tightening around your throat just enough to tilt your face toward his so he can kiss your jaw, your cheek. The slick sounds of your bodies are filthy, but it only pushes you closer. “Been holding back this whole time not to fucking come inside that sweet pussy.”

And that’s all it takes.

You come with a silent scream, clinging to the steering wheel, shuddering against him as your orgasm rips through you.

“Get up,” Joel says urgently, and, trembling, you lift yourself on wobbly knees.

He pushes your dress up your back, squeezes your ass—and you know exactly what he wants.

You brace yourself against the steering wheel, arching your back for him, and Joel lets out a rough, desperate sound.

Between heavy breaths, you hear the slick noises of him jerking himself off, and it only takes a few seconds before you feel it—hot spurts of cum hitting your ass, dripping down the backs of your thighs.

After what feels like forever, Joel slaps your ass gently and wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you against his chest.

You let yourself collapse into him, feeling his heart pounding just as hard as yours.

You stay there for a moment, quiet, your lips dry when you finally whisper:

“Good wine.”

He laughs.

“Knew you’d like it.”

You close your eyes, tangling your fingers with his over your waist.

When you wake up the next morning, it’s to persistent knocking on the door.

Startled, heart racing, you open your eyes. At first, you don’t recognize the room you’re in, but then you feel Joel’s arm draped over your hips and everything from last night comes rushing back.

You two had cleaned up the garage as best you could, wiped down the seats of his truck, and then gone upstairs to his bedroom to shower together. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave, and he asked you to stay, so you texted your parents saying Joel needed you to sleep over (not a lie) because of Sarah, since he had to rush out for an emergency (a complete lie).

“Dad,” Sarah knocks again, and you have to replay last night’s events to make sure Joel actually locked the door before you both passed out. “Daaaad.”

He opens his eyes, still half-asleep, and pulls you closer against him. Sarah knocks again, and Joel grunts softly before calling out:

“Is the house on fire?”

She laughs.

“No, but you must be sick if you’re not up yet. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just got in late last night.”

Quietly, you trace your fingers over his beard. He meets your gaze and catches your hand, kissing your knuckles before hugging you closer, and you’re reminded that you’re both still naked under the covers—every inch of his warm body pressed against yours.

“Hangover?” Sarah asks.

“Sort of.”

“I left you breakfast. The school bus is about to get here.”

You watch his expression soften.

“Thanks, baby girl. Have a good day. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Dad.”

You hear her footsteps fading down the stairs, and you smile at Joel.

“That was so sweet,” you murmur sincerely. “You call her ‘baby girl’.”

“She used to hate it when she was younger, but she gave up fighting me on it,” he says, his voice raspy from sleep, making something in your stomach flip. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” you whisper back.

Joel brushes his thumb over your cheek and temple, then asks:

“Do you regret it?” You frown, not understanding right away. He clarifies: “Last night.”

“Of course not. Are you crazy?”

“You fucked a porn actor,” he says conspiratorially.

“An ex–porn actor,” you correct. “And we haven’t even fucked yet. Why would I regret that?”

Joel shrugs.

“Aren’t you the one who hates them?”

“Joooel,” you groan, flopping onto your back. “We already talked about this. I hate the industry. I could never hate you.”

“If you say so.”

You turn your face toward him when you feel his hand sliding over your stomach, your hip, your breast…

“Well, now I have a very subjective perspective for my thesis,” you tease.

Joel smiles, raising an eyebrow.

“Imagine explaining that when someone asks how you gathered your results—you’ll have to say Javier Peña showed you personally.”

You barely manage to suppress the shiver that runs down your spine.

“Our little adventure would make a good movie,” you say, but instantly regret it, shaking your head. “Forget it. Just the thought of any image of me out there makes me sick.”

Joel stays silent, but there’s a stupid little smile on his lips as he props himself up on his elbow, lying sideways. His other hand, which was resting on your belly, slides lower. Past your hip, past your thigh, and back up again.

“What’s with that smirk?” you ask.

He licks his bottom lip.

“Remember when you asked me what my favorite kind of movie was?”

That’s the sentence that leads, twenty minutes later, to you lying on your side, your back pressed against Joel’s chest, the morning light streaming through the thick curtains.

He holds you firmly as you reach between your legs, guiding his cock inside you. You almost melt in his arms, feeling the thick veins pulse against your fingers.

“A little more,” Joel murmurs into your ear, sliding an arm under your thigh and adjusting your position to help you take him. You reach behind you, grabbing his hip. Inch by inch, he fills you.

You look down between your legs, watching the way you stretch around him, and it feels like the bed is dissolving under the weight of it.

“Joel.”

“I’m right here, baby,” he says. You see him licking three fingers before reaching down to your clit, just as he starts moving his hips.

The next few days in Lake Placid pass exactly like that.

Some nights, you sneak across your backyard to Joel’s house, and he usually meets you halfway, catching you on the stairs with a kiss before carrying you to bed.

Other times, he sneaks into your house and fucks you on your bedroom floor, because your bed makes too much noise.

You keep working on your thesis and stop watching Javier Peña’s old movies. You don’t need them anymore—not when Joel Miller is texting you saying he needs you in his bed.

On your last few days at home, your parents throw a barbecue. Among the guests are Joel and Sarah.

It’s Joel who finds you in the kitchen as you’re finishing seasoning the potato salad.

He leans against the counter across from you, holding a can of beer. You glance up from the potatoes to meet his gaze, and flashes of last night hit you—when you two had sex in a ridiculous roadside motel because Sarah was having a sleepover with her friends at home.

“And when you go back to New York?” he asks, and you immediately understand what he means.

You shrug.

“I’m not going to pressure you into a long-distance relationship. We don’t have a relationship anyway. And I don’t want a long-distance thing.”

“But I want you.”

You stab a piece of potato with your fork and bring it to his mouth. He accepts it, chewing slowly while waiting for your answer.

“I want you too,” you confess. “But I know you have other priorities.”

“So do you.”

You nod. “So do I.”

Somehow, it feels like a goodbye.

Two months later, back in New York, you type the final period on the last sentence of your thesis.

You stretch your arms over your head like you just won a marathon and then slowly slide to the floor, lying flat on your back like a starfish.

Your spine cracks, your wrists protest after three straight hours of typing, but you can’t wipe the huge, satisfied smile off your face—you’re free.

You grab your phone and text your friends:

“Thesis done. Beer to celebrate?”

You end up doing a full bar crawl, treating it like a birthday or something equally ridiculous.

All it takes is a low-cut top showing off your cleavage, a sweet voice, and the line “Do I get a prize for finishing my thesis?” to score free drinks all night.

You flirt with a few guys, but none of them make you want to drag them home. None of them have a Texas drawl, a graying beard, and the smirk of a retired porn star.

Actually…

You open your chat with Joel.

The last message from him, sent yesterday, is a photo of the same wine bottle you two opened that night in the garage. You had texted back “wish I was there,” and he’d replied with a kiss emoji.

He’d mentioned he was attending some adult film award ceremony as a presenter or something, but he didn’t say where.

He must have been busy all day.

Tonight, you type:

“went out drinking with some friends to celebrate finishing my thesis and can’t stop thinking about you. swear if you were here, i’d be blowing you under one of the bar tables.”

You put your phone away.

You down a tequila shot and laugh when your friend toasts to the end of grad school.

At three in the morning, you still haven’t gotten a reply from Joel.

You call an Uber after making sure your friends are safe, pulling your leather jacket tight around your body. The ride sobers you up just enough to make you crave a whole bottle of water.

That’s exactly what you do when you get home.

You peel off your pleated skirt and jacket, leaving yourself in just a wool turtleneck sweater, and you’re about to jump into the shower when your intercom buzzes.

You glance at the microwave clock: 3:54 AM.

You answer.

“Hello?”

“Delivery from Javier Peña.”

You gasp and immediately buzz him in.

Your heart is already racing as you open your apartment door, standing half-hidden behind it since you’re not wearing any pants.

You practically bounce with anticipation at the same time you convince yourself you’re not dreaming.

When Joel appears at the top of the stairs, it’s like all the blood in your body rushes to your head. He’s wearing glasses and has that stupid, cocky smile, dressed in a black T-shirt with two simple words printed across the front: adult content.

“I can’t believe you’re actually wearing that shirt.”

“The name of the studio that sponsored the awards ceremony,” he says, stopping in front of you.

He smells so good it makes you a little self-conscious about the sweat clinging to your neck from the night out.

“Heard someone finished their thesis,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Figured I should congratulate you properly.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #the last of us #pedro pascal x reader

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reiding-writing · 2 months ago

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Hi! I was wondering if you could please right something for a sunshine!reader? Like, someone who’s the complete opposite of cold!reader? Someone who is always warm and bubbly and Spencer is just absolutely infatuated.

WARM ME UP. /spencer reid/

you’re a very welcome ray of sunshine in the otherwise drafty, dull BAU office.

sunshine!reader 1.0k fluff masterlist.

a/n | love me some pure fluff

You breeze into the BAU bullpen like a ray of golden sunshine, cutting through the dim hum of overworked agents and the buzz of computer screens. It’s early—too early for most of your coworkers to be in a good mood—but not for you. Never for you.

“Good morning, everyone!” Your voice is bright, a melody in the otherwise static-filled air. You set a small container of muffins on the shared table, beaming as a few heads lift from their desks.

Spencer Reid, however, doesn’t look up. He’s hunched over his desk, fingers dancing over the keys of his laptop, deep in concentration. His coffee sits untouched at his side, long gone cold. You don’t have to see his face to know his brows are knitted together, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

You tilt your head, watching him for a beat before strolling over. “Good morning, Mr Genius,” You sing-song, leaning just enough to cast a shadow over his screen.

He startles slightly, blinking up at you. You don’t miss the way his eyes soften at the sight of you, like winter melting into spring. “Oh—good morning,” he murmurs, tucking a strand of messy hair behind his ear.

You beam. “Did you sleep last night? How long have you been here?”

He hesitates, which is answer enough.

With a dramatic sigh, you pluck his coffee from the desk and take it upon yourself to march over to the kitchenette. He watches, bemused, as you pour out the cold liquid and fix him a fresh cup. You return moments later, placing the new one beside him.

“There. Fresh caffeine, courtesy of your friendly neighbourhood coworker,”

Spencer chuckles under his breath, shaking his head. “Thank you,”

You rest your hands on your hips. “And did you eat?”

“I—”

You don’t wait for an answer. Instead, you grab a muffin from the container and place it beside his coffee. “No excuses. Eat, Doctor.”

He huffs a soft laugh but doesn’t argue. You watch, satisfied, as he takes a tentative bite, eyes flicking up to meet yours again.

There’s something quiet in his gaze, something almost reverent. You see it sometimes—when he thinks you aren’t looking, when you’re laughing with Garcia or handing out homemade treats to the team.

Infatuation.

He doesn’t know how to hide it. He doesn’t want to.

—

The thing about Spencer is that he gravitates toward warmth.

He’s spent so much of his life trapped in the cold—isolated in childhood, pushed aside by classmates, held at arm’s length by the world. Even now, he carries it with him, that lingering chill of loneliness.

But you?

You are warmth incarnate. You are golden hours and soft laughter, the kind of person who sees someone struggling and makes it their mission to brighten their day. You are sunshine. And Spencer is helpless against you.

It starts with small things.

You leave little notes on his desk—sometimes scribbled reminders to eat or drink water, sometimes just a smiley face and a “Have a great day, Spencer!” written in bright ink. You refill his coffee when he forgets. You pull him away from his work when he’s spiraling, coaxing him outside for a quick breath of fresh air.

And he lets you.

Because as much as he’s spent his life learning to exist on the fringes, he likes the way you pull him into the light.

—

“Spencer!”

Your voice is the first thing he hears when he steps off the elevator. It’s late—most of the team has already gone home—but you’re still here, waiting by his desk with an eager bounce in your step.

His heart does something funny in his chest.

“You waited for me?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “Of course. We both know you’d sleep here if left to your own devices.”

He knows you’re right. He also knows you didn’t have to wait.

There’s something endlessly fascinating about you, about the way you pour so much of yourself into others, as if it’s second nature. Spencer doesn’t know what he did to deserve that kind of attention from you, but he doesn’t question it.

Instead, he lets you drag him away from his desk, out of the office and into the cool night air. You chatter about your day as you walk beside him, hands gesturing animatedly as you tell some ridiculous story about Garcia roping you into another one of her experiments.

He listens, enraptured.

And when you turn to him, eyes bright with warmth, he wonders if you know. If you realize how utterly, hopelessly infatuated he is with you.

—

It’s Morgan who finally calls him out on it.

“You’re in deep, kid.”

Spencer blinks up from his book. “What?”

Morgan smirks. “Don’t play dumb. You and Sunshine,”

The nickname makes something warm bloom in Spencer’s chest. You really are the sun, aren’t you?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters, flipping a page in his book, pretending not to hear the way Morgan chuckles.

“Right. And I suppose you always smile like that when one of your coworkers is mentioned in their absence?”

Spencer freezes.

Morgan laughs, clapping him on the back before sauntering off, leaving Spencer alone with his spiraling thoughts.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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javierpena-inatacvest · 1 year ago

Text

Main Masterlist

It's Never Too Late Series*:

You are an elementary school teacher who just moved to Texas for a fresh start when you meet a very handsome man from the Laredo Sheriff's Department coming to give your class a presentation.

After your co-workers pull some strings for you to meet again, you and Javier Peña find yourselves falling head over heels for each other.

Forever and Always Series*:

Javier Peña never thought he'd fall in love, let alone deserve to. That was, until you walked into his life and changed it for the better. Now, with a wife, a house, and 3 daughters later, Javi is the happiest man alive, and couldn't be more glad he's proven his past self wrong.

Oneshots (can be read as stand-alones, or as a part of the NTL series!):

Movie Night*: You and Javi are trying to pick a movie to watch together. When Javi decides to change into gray sweatpants to get more comfortable... something else besides movie watching ensues.

Ride*: Javi's a ride you can't resist

Dirty Laundry*: After waking up on Sunday morning, you and Javi were supposed to start on your to-do list for the day. It doesn't take long for your to-do list to turn into different plans.

Again*: After Javi leaves the house looking even more handsome than usual, you can't stop thinking about him all day. Once the two of you are finally alone, he helps to solve your neediness (over and over again).

You're My Home*: You and Javi have both had one of those weeks where no matter how hard you try, nothing seems to go right. It only takes so long before something stupid makes the both of you snap. When Javi confesses to you what's been putting him on edge, you find a way to make it up to each other.

Not Yet*: There's few things Javi likes more than seeing you all worked up

The Mouse and the Motorcycle: Javi offers to help you unpack your classroom before school starts after getting moved to a different room over the summer. Little does he know, the room is one he's already very well acquainted with.

You Make Life Worth It: Javi knows you've had a rough week at school, and surprises you with dinner

Take Me Home: After a night out at the bar with your co-workers after a long week at school, Javi picks you up and takes you home

Jealousy, Jealousy*: Your brothers take you and Javi out to a local bar when you're home to visit. When you run into one of your old childhood friends, Javi can't help but feel jealous

Plaid Pajama Morning: A sleepy Sunday morning with you and Javi in bed

Agent Peña*: You and Javi are unpacking as you move into your new house, when you come across something unusual in one of the boxes. Surprise, it's Javi's old tac vest, and boy, do you need to show him how good he still looks in it.

Every Inch*: After feeling discouraged after trying on a pair of jeans that doesn't fit anymore, Javi shows you just how much he appreciates your body, regardless of what you think about it.

Soup for Breakfast: Javi comes home to find that you caught the flu from your class at school, and wants to help you feel better.

Whatever My Wife Wants*: On your honeymoon, Javi decides to break out a new accessory you've never seen him wear before. Little does he know, that seeing him wear a chain for the first time is about to drive you wild.

Fever*: You're ovulating- It's that time of month where you find yourself turning into an unspeakably horny monster with just one problem that Javi knows exactly how to help you fix.

His*: Javi can't get enough of you (aka idk how to summarize this other than it's pwp whoops)

Insatiable*: Javi thought he couldn't love you anymore than he already did- that was until the two of you found out you were expecting. Now that your baby bump is finally starting to show, Javi can't get enough of you.

Sail Away: Another nightmare leaves Javi wide awake, forced to wrestle with the consequences of his past as he looks towards his future

Peanut Butter and Pickles: When Javi can't find you at the house, he begins to panic. Little does he know, you were just out at the store picking up your new, weird pregnancy craving.

You Make Lovin' Fun*: You buy tickets to Fleetwood Mac for Javi's birthday. After a few drinks, Javi ends up having a little more fun than he intended.

Everybody Knows That I'm A Good Girl, Officer*: After Javi brings home a pair of handcuffs from work, your plans for the night start to look very different.

All The Things We Never Said Series*: You and Frankie Morales have been best friends since the 6th grade. You swore to each other that there would never come a day where life would be better without the other one in it. But as you grow up, you've learned the hard way that sometimes, just friendship isn't enough.

Burnin' Up Series*:

You were looking for a fresh start when you moved to the small beach town of Seaside. What you weren't looking for was love- but when a handsome firefighter shows up at your door, what you were looking for shows up where you least expected it.

One Shots:

Cramps*: After going off of birth control, your periods have been a little more intense than you're used to. What starts out as a stressful morning between you and your husband, very quickly turns into a night that bodes very well for the both of you.

Sunday Naps*: It's Sunday, which means it's time for your favorite weekend activity- an afternoon nap with Frankie. But when Frankie finds himself awake before you with an interesting problem, he knows just the way to wake you up, too.

Maybe, Baby?*: You and Frankie aren't trying for a baby just yet, but when your weird symptoms start to throw your body for a loop, you start to wonder if you actually might be pregnant

Melt*: You and Frankie spend a hot summer day by the pool

A Little Longer*: Frankie promises to give you what you ask for... but only if you can play by the rules of his game

Me, You and Baby, Too*: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Moodboards:

Lazy Sundays with Joel Miller

Date Night in with Frankie Morales

Coffee Shop Meet Cute with Frankie Morales

Self Care with Marcus Pike

Celebration with Dieter Bravo

Sick Day with Javier Peña

Domestic Bliss with Javier Peña

Life in Laredo with Javier Peña

Doodles and Artwork:

Joel Miller

Javier Peña

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yuck-pfaugh · 4 months ago

Text

Camilla rootled around in the medical kit that Crown had brought in, and retrieved a big needle. She removed the webbing from around it, and Pyrrha said: "Sextus, don't think I haven't thought about this. If a blood sample was going to be enough, I would've said to do it first thing. Harrowhark Nonagesimus couldn't have rolled aside that damned rock unless it was fresh out of the vat." (NtN, p. 368)

I breezed past this the first four times because we all know Harrow opened the tomb and how; but now I feel like I have to ask: how does Pyrrha know about it? Only three people are explicitly aware, in the text, that Harrow unlocked the Tomb: the perpetrator herself; Gideon, to whom she confessed during the pool scene; and John, who heard all about her sin over tea and bikkies. None of them are explicitly aware of how the deed was done. Harrow herself, both times she told the story, believed that the key was her own bloodline, that there was some kind of built-in back door for the tombkeeper.

1. John didn't even believe that she'd got in, and if he managed to put the pieces together and revise his opinion in the interval between "Hi, Not Fucking Dead, I'm Dad" and Augustine plunging the Mithraeum into the River, he didn't say so out loud. He went one way in the water (pursued by his hands and fingers) and Pyrrha went another (with Harrow's body and Gideon's soul in tow), and the text gives us no reason to suppose they met in the middle for a private chat.

2. Gideon and Pyrrha had limited time together (and all of it on the page) before drowning (anyway a less permanent version thereof) — at which point Gideon's soul was no longer in the body that was with Pyrrha, and the next time they were in the same room Kiriona played dead till after Pyrrha had passed the above remark.

3. Harrow was occupied elsewhere during the final act on the Mithraeum and missed the juicy bits. She returned to herself only at the end of NtN, and I've seen it fairly theorised that she still doesn't know she's had the blood of God's only child under her nails.

Which seems to wipe out direct transmission from any of those three, to Pyrrha. If it was passed along by an intermediary — someone in Blood of Eden, for instance — who told them?

1. Not John.

2. Not Gideon. She was corpsified the whole time she was with BoE.

3. Harrow? At Canaan House, before the Erebos arrived, she could have told them she'd got into the Tomb — but not that she did it using Gideon's blood. As far as she knew it was because she was the Ninth House's specialest little necro. If BoE personnel who were involved in the failed Ninth House Operation told her about Gideon's likely parentage, and she in turn told them about her earlier tombdiving expedition as proof of concept... The knowledge of that conversation would've been compartmentalised along with everything else about Gideon. However, I checked the chapter where she first meets John, post-Canaan House but pre-lobotomy, and the only hint I can come up with is: "At least if she failed here, she would no longer have to be beholden to anybody." Which suggests she may have an ongoing Plot or Scheme associated with a location other than the Ninth House, and it's a thought that crosses her mind before she formally accepts John's somewhat disingenuous invitation to join his necrosaints. And yet, her shock at being told how many of her fellow House heirs were dead or missing, felt genuine.

Did Harrow already have gaps in her memory during that conversation? She was with Gideon's body at the end of the previous chapter — then she came round, as if from unconsciousness, on the Erebos. What happened in between?? Did the Harrow who had just lost Gideon Nav begin working with BoE at Canaan House, speedrunning the Eightfold Path right into the Betrayal of God faster than any Lyctor before her?? Was she an unknowing double agent during her hellish months on the Mithraeum??

Or... did Tamsyn just goof here, and forget who knew what? It seems unlike her. Any thoughts? Please? In case you couldn't tell from this post, IT'S DRIVING ME ROUND THE TWIST.

#tlt meta #nona the ninth #pyrrha dve #harrowhark nonagesimus #gideon nav #emperor john gaius #and yes I'm also tagging this #ALECTOPAUSE

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cerosin-bis · 10 months ago

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(gets on both knees) I know your main gimmick is KN but I remember an old tweet about how you like MakaYuri,, bplease do you have any thoughts to share about them 🙏🙏🙏

YESSS I DO.... Makayuri headcanons let's GO... yuri/makarov is so real. Makarov is Yuri's significant bother [said with extreme fondness]

Makarov world's most possessive person maybe EVER. a billion times worse than Nikto. ticks every box on an "obsessive lover" red flags checklist to be honest

And if you ask Yuri WHY he's infatuated with Makarov he won't be able to answer. It's not that Makarov has a mental hold, influence or control over him either it's just that... simply Yuri loves Makarov.

Like. it has on paper everything to be a toxic relationship but it isn't

They have a lot of history, they know *exactly* how they work, think and react to things. like they have such an intimate knowledge and fondness about each other. It really a couple that can withstand anything because there are no dealbreakers...

...Yuri doesn't excuse Makarov's actions but it won't take anything else than a spoken, half-hearted disagreement because he WILL follow Makarov anywhere.

One (1) domestic headcanon: they have ridiculous matching enamel coffee cups with their surnames on it.

Their arguments are explosive when they happen, but settled quickly because Makarov is stubborn but emotionally intelligent, and Yuri's personality is very... adaptable? He's good at de-escalating things.

Yuri is a social chameleon and exceptionally good as a double agent. He is only genuine around Makarov, though.

#makayuri #headcanons #ask #yuri #makarov #call of duty #my art

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alisonsfics · 1 year ago

Text

old college flame

pairing: tony dinozzo x ex-girlfriend!reader

summary: you and tony had dated in college. you were the only serious girlfriend he ever had. after going your separate ways, you got a job working at the FBI, which means you hadn’t seen tony since. until NCIS and the FBI have to collaborate on a case.

word count: 2.3k

“Agent Fornell, is NCIS aware that we are assisting them on this case? You’ve told me how Agent Gibbs doesn’t like other agencies to step on his toes.” You asked your boss.

You both were currently in the elevator, riding up to the NCIS squad room. You had never worked with NCIS in all your years at the agency, and you wanted to know what to expect.

“Yes, Agent Gibbs invited us on to this case.” He informed you.

The elevator doors dinged, and you both stepped out. You followed after Fornell, since he knew his way around NCIS headquarters. “Agent Gibbs, pleasure to work with you again.” Your boss said, walking into a room with four desks.

Gibbs stood up and shook Fornell’s hand. “You must be Agent L/N. Tobias told be about you. You’ve been at the FBI for six years now?” He asked. You nodded, politely, and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.” You said, simply.

Gibbs gestured behind you. “That’s Special Agent McGee, and this is Ziva David.” He explained. They both came over and shook your hand.

“I read your paper about using satellite images during investigations. I thought it was really interesting.” You told McGee. He was flattered. “I’m actually working on that now trying to analyze images around our crime scene. I can show you, if you like. I could use a second opinion.” He offered.

You quickly nodded and agreed. “Here, let me borrow my colleague’s chair. He won’t mind, he has a thing for beautiful women.” McGee said, wheeling the chair from the empty desk over to his own desk.

You took a seat, and he showed you the screen. “I’ve been looking at this radius between the two crimes because we think the suspect lives in the area.” He explained, pointing at the circles on the map.

“We have an unsolved case from a few years ago that I think might be related.” You said, pulling the file out of your bag and showing it to him.

“It matches the other two crimes, and it took place right around here.” You said, gesturing towards the map.

McGee glanced over the file before typing in the third location. “That narrows our search area down by a lot.” He said, glancing over at Gibbs.

“Up on the screen, McGee,” Gibbs said, gesturing at the tv. From behind you, you heard the elevator doors ding.

“Probie, where’s my chair?” You heard a loud voice ask. The voice sounded familiar to you, but you weren’t sure why.

You turned around to see who was talking. “It’s being borrowed by Agent—” McGee started to say, as you turned around and made eye contact with Tony.

“Y/N,” Tony said, almost at a whisper. He was standing completely still, just staring. You were also frozen in your seat.

“You two know each other?” Gibbs asked, curious as to why you both were just staring at each other.

“College,” you both said at the same time.

You and Tony had dated for two years in college. He was your first real love, and you were his. You broke up because you were moving to different cities. You both preferred having a mutual breakup instead of your relationship deteriorating from doing long distance and ending with a messy breakup.

Gibbs and Fornell both snapped to get you both out of your trances.

“McGee, you and Agent L/N go work with Abby on this map. Tony and Ziva start looking into the cold case.” Gibbs delegated.

You stood up from your seat and walked over to Tony. “Hi,” you said, giving him a soft smile. You handed him the file, and he returned the smile. “It’s nice to see you,” he responded, left just as speechless as you were.

“Right this way,” McGee said, showing you to the elevator. You followed after him, looking back over your shoulder and making eye contact with Tony.

You and McGee stepped into the elevator. “So, you know Tony?” McGee asked you. You nodded your head. “Yeah, you could say that. Or at least I used to,” you told him.

“You two haven’t seen each other since college?” McGee asked, curiously. He had never seen Tony as shaken up as he was when he saw you.

“Yeah, I think so,” you said, as though you didn’t specifically remember the last time you saw Tony.

It was when you brought Tony to the airport. He was leaving for DC. You both knew it’d be the last time you saw each other. It was the only time you’d seen Tony cry. You had a Hallmark-movie emotional kiss.

And you hadn’t seen him since.

You and McGee stepped out of the elevator and walked down a hallway. You both walked into Abby’s lab. Then, you noticed Abby.

She was typing on her computer, facing away from you both. “Hi, Abby.” McGee said as you both entered the room.

“McGee, did you hear? Ziva called me. Something about Tony acting weird around some girl. I was thinking secret ex-girlfriend, but that doesn’t really feel like Tony—” Abby started rambling, before McGee interrupted.

“Abby,” McGee said, loudly. He gave you a look of sympathy. Abby turned around, and her eyes went wide.

“Abby, meet Agent L/N from the FBI,” McGee introduced you.

Abby had a terrified look in her eyes. “See, you might think I was talking about you, but I was actually talking about someone else.” She lied, trying to smooth things over.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I get it,” you assured her. She looked relieved. The three of you discussed the map for a few minutes, and then McGee got a phone call.

“Boss wants me upstairs,” He said, leaving the lab.

“Hey, I’m sorry about earlier.” Abby apologized again. You gave her a polite smile. “You really don’t have to worry about it. Also, I thought you’d want to know that you were right.” You told her.

Her eyebrows furrowed, and you could tell from her expression that she was confused. “Wait, about what?” She asked you.

“Tony,” you said, simply.

She still looked confused for another minute, and then her eyes lit up. “You’re Tony’s ex-girlfriend? You two actually dated?” Abby asked, excitedly.

You could tell how shocked she was. She ran and grabbed two chairs for you both to sit on. You took a seat, giggling at her excitement.

“So, Tony actually had a girlfriend? Like a serious girlfriend?” She asked you. You nodded your head. “Two years serious,” you replied.

Abby was shocked. She’d never heard Tony talk about a girlfriend. There wasn’t even many girls that he took on second dates. He didn’t even try to seriously date anyone after you.

What you both had was special. Tony knew he’d never be able to replicate that, so he didn’t see a point in trying. That is what led to the long string of one night stands.

Abby’s expression shifted when she saw your disappointment. She was excited to learn Tony had a girlfriend, but reminiscing about your relationship just gave you regrets.

“When you said having a secret ex-girlfriend didn’t sound like Tony, what did you mean?” You asked Abby, curiously. She didn’t know what to say.

“Obviously, I didn’t know Tony in college, but now, I’ve haven’t seen him date anyone serious. It’s a lot of first dates that don’t go anywhere. What you both had must have been really special.” She said, giving you a soft smile.

You sighed, thinking back to your relationship. It was special. You both had the perfect fit, until you didn’t.

“I should probably get back upstairs. I wouldn’t say Fornell is the most patient boss.” You said, standing up from your seat. Abby giggled to herself. “Sounds like Gibbs,” she joked.

“What sounds like Gibbs?” You heard Gibbs as he walked into the room.

“I’m gonna head back upstairs.” You said, quickly walking out of the room. You waited for the elevator. When it dinged, you went to step inside.

You bumped straight into Tony, who was trying to get out of the elevator. You both froze. “Hi, again,” you said, softly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, scooting to the side to let you get in the elevator.

“I was just getting out.” He said, stepping into the hallway. You watched him as the doors started to close, when he quickly hopped inside the elevator.

He quickly flipped the off switch, turning the lights darker and bringing the elevator to a halt.

“Sorry, I just really needed to talk to you.” He said, turning to face you. You smiled at him, knowing exactly how he felt.

“So you’re working with the FBI now?” He asked, not knowing how to start this conversation. You nodded, giving him an awkward smile.

“Have you, y’know, been doing good?” You asked. Even after all these years, you still cared about him. “Yeah, I’m doing better. What about you? You ever get married?” He asked, remembering how you had talked about your perfect wedding.

You let out half of a laugh. “Nope, not married. Not even close,” you said, honestly. He nodded along, and you knew he felt the same way.

“Trouble finding the right guy?” He asked. He knew he sounded jealous, but you were his first love.

“Nope, I had the right guy. Just the wrong time,” you said, taking a step closer to him. He looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry if I ever hurt you. We tried to stop things from ending messily, but I don’t think it mattered. Having to say goodbye to the person you love the most is always messy.” He said, slowly grabbing one of your hands.

He was nervous, waiting for your permission. You gave him a smile and interlaced your fingers with his.

“You never did anything wrong, Tony. You were perfect. I know we both have regrets about everything, at least I do.” You told him, honestly.

He could hear your hurt in your voice. He wished there was a way to go back and undo all the pain you both had been through.

“Trust me, you are not the only one with regrets. I am always wondering what would have happened if I fought harder for us. Maybe we would have survived long distance, or maybe I should’ve just taken the jump and moved to be with you.” He rambled.

He had never told anyone any of this. He felt so relieved to get it off his chest. “I guess we’ll never know.” You said. You were realizing for the first time that you both were living in the same city now.

Tony went to say something, but stopped himself. “Actually, nevermind. That’s stupid,” he said, dropping your hand and backing up from you. He leaned against the elevator railing, worrying he’d just messed everything up.

He went to flip the on switch, but you grabbed his hand, stopping him. “It’s not stupid. What were you going to say?” You asked him.

He took a deep breath, knowing he could blow everything up with what he was about to say.

“I was just going to say that I never stopped loving you.” He confessed, looking into your eyes with a look that made you melt.

You cupped his face and kissed him. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back. He spun you around, so your back was pressed up against the wall.

Your hands found their way back into his hair, like they had so many times before. It all still felt natural. He pulled you closer to him. He had missed you for years, and now he felt like he couldn’t breath without you.

He ran his tongue along your bottom lip, causing you to smirk. “God, I have missed you so much,” Tony whispered, pulling out of the kiss.

“Are we giving us a second chance?” You asked him. A giant smile spread on his face. “I have dreamed about having a second chance with you for years.” He said, giving you a quick peck on the cheek.

Suddenly, Tony’s phone started ringing.

“Yeah, Abby, what’s up?” He asked. You heard Abby cheering loudly on the other side. Tony flinched, pulling the phone away from his ear.

“You got the girl back! You both are so cute together.” You heard her say, causing Tony’s cheeks to turn pink.

“Wait a minute. Abby are you spying through the security camera?” He asked, turning to face the camera. You heard the phone beep as she hung up.

You giggled to yourself. “Sounds like Abby is a fan.” You joked. He nodded, knowing what you said was an understatement. “She didn’t know it was you but she always knew I was hung up on someone.” He said, pulling you into a hug.

“We should probably get back before Gibbs and Fornell get suspicious.” You mumbled, into his shirt. You both pulled out of the hug, and he flipped the on switch.

You walked back into the squad room. You both were anticipating that Abby would have told the rest of the team already, but no one seemed to react.

“Boss is on his way up, he wants to talk theories.” McGee informed you both. You both nodded.

Tony grabbed your hand, which caught McGee and Ziva’s attention. They gave each other a quick look from across the room. They were both wondering what was happening.

Tony pulled his chair out for you, letting you sit down. Then, he leaned against the side of his desk.

“So?” McGee asked, looking at Tony.

Tony chuckled at his colleagues’ intrigue and curiosity.

“You may be seeing much more of Agent L/N” Tony said, causing both McGee and Ziva to smile. “We’re happy for you both,” Ziva said, smiling.

McGee walked over to you. “You’ll be needing this. I’m going to need to hear all about how Tony was in college.” McGee said, handing you his card with his phone number.

“We should all get drinks tonight. I’m sure you have lots of stories about Tony.” Ziva suggested. Tony knew he was going to be in for a long night.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @azghedaheda @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @bookwormchick91 @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @multitargaryen @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @happygirl-0408

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#tony dinozzo x reader #tony dinozzo #tony dinozzo imagine #tony dinozzo fanfiction #tony dinozzo fic #tony dinozzo ncis #ncis #ncis x reader #ncis fic #ncis fanfiction #ncis imagine #ncis fandom #michael weatherly

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waevrs · 2 years ago

Text

ᴄᴏᴍᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇᴅ.

Pairings: ShieldAgent! Natasha x ShieldAgent!Fem! Reader

Summary: You're tired of always fighting with her, but you just can't help but feel an attachment to her. Even if it gets you hurt.

Warning: Y/N has powers like Venom, Angst, Fluff if you squint, Injury

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3

I dragged myself into the kitchen the next morning and poured myself some coffee. I hadn't got any sleep last night due to a certain redhead having the time of her life with a random guy she found on the streets.

"You look like shit." Tony remarked, also sipping on his coffee. Clint and Steve were also seated on the kitchen island with bags under their eyes. I guessed they couldn't sleep either, and that was saying something because they all slept on different floors than me and Natasha.

"Oh yeah? Blame that one on Romanoff." I quipped, taking a sip of my coffee.

"Blame what on me?"

Ah yes, the devil herself. The one responsible for the sleepless night. She walked into the kitchen as if she wasn't screaming the building down literally 5 hours ago. She had a baggy shirt on, definitely not hers, and boxers, also not hers. Her hair was a mess and she had the audacity to walk into the kitchen yawning.

"Uh, maybe the fact that none of us slept due to your screaming." Tony expressed. Natasha just simply chuckled and made herself a coffee.

"Tony, please soundproof her room." I suggested, turning to Tony, Steve and Clint.

"It already is soundproofed..." Clint muttered. Natasha laughed again. Is this woman serious?

"Okay then," I piped, turning towards Natasha. "The next time you decide to get railed, keep it down so the rest of us can sleep."

There was unadulterated venom behind my words, and I made sure she knew that.

"Since when does my sex life have anything to do with you?" She scoffed.

"Since we have a fucking mission Natasha! I hope you weren't fucked too hard because I am not slowing down for you!" I growled and slammed the mission file onto the kitchen island. Everyone in there looked at me in shock and Clint just smirked and took a sip of his coffee.

"She's got a point, you kn-" Steve began.

"Can it, old man." Natasha interrupted. Why is she mad? She literally kept the whole building awake and now she's mad? I don't understand her. I walked away, coffee in hand, and got ready for the mission.

☼

Some time passed and we boarded the Quinjet, not before getting a lecture from Fury. Romanoff and I hadn't spoken a word to each other. Maybe that was for the best.

The mission was in another Hydra base. Although, this time it was to shut the place down. It was going to be more challenging because I had to do most of the fighting, due to Ms. Imgonnagetrailedbeforeamission limping everywhere.

After some walking, we got into the Hydra base. Using my powers, we slipped through corridors upon corridors of grey walls and floors. We were still avoiding communication, despite me literally carrying her through the halls. I don't know how we got to this position but she was on me with her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck and I was holding onto her with one arm, so I could use the other to shoot my gun. I mean sure, to turn both of us into a shadow I needed her off of the ground but it started with me carrying her, bridal style, and now it evolved into this.

We came across a hallway where there were some Hydra agents patrolling and I brought us out of the shadows and went to put Natasha down. Her grip on me just tightened and she took my gun from the holster on my thigh and aimed it behind her. She shot 3 bullets without looking and they hit the agents vitally.

"Turn around I can't see." She ordered, finally speaking the first words to me since the morning. I obliged knowing she's the better shot. Still, I was confused as to why she didn't want to come down.

Natasha fired 2 more bullets at the 2 remaining Hydra agents that were left dumbfounded by her sudden attack. Their lifeless bodies hit the concrete floor with a thud.

"Am I warm, Romanoff?" I teased when she placed my gun back into my holster.

"Put me down." She deadpanned.

"What? I was just joki-"

"I said. Put. Me. Down." She reiterated. I let her down and she rolled her eyes and stormed off in a random direction. I followed her closely, not wanting to compromise the mission. Through the bland halls we walked, only stopping when we believed that we heard something. The floor was concrete so it hurt to walk on for a long period of time and I could tell that Natasha was getting uncomfortable too.

This place, this hallway in particular, seemed all to familiar to me.

And that's when it hit me.

Something was wrong about this place. This was the place where my vision occurred.

Danger ahead, stop walking.

"Natasha, stop. There's something wrong about this place." I realised. She simply scoffed and kept walking.

"Natasha. I'm serious. Stop."

Still nothing. She held her head high and continued walking as if you hadn't said anything.

"Natasha! Would you please just listen to me-"

Stop her now.

I didn't waste time in debating whether or not the voice was toying with me and lunged straight for Natasha, pulling her backwards towards where I stood previously.

Stand infront of her.

In a matter of milliseconds I switched our places so I was in front of her. That's when we heard it

Tick. Tick. Tick.

"Get down!"

I pushed Natasha to the ground and held my arms out, trying to create a shield with my powers in the very short time slot that I had. I decided to cover my head with it and cover Natasha with my body. She opened her mouth to protest but-

BOOM!

Natasha's P.O.V I watched in horror as Y/N's unconscious body collapsed onto mine after the explosion. I blinked a few times and looked around, only now realising that the place was rigged. We only got this far due to sheer luck.

How could I be so stupid? I was too occupied with being petty from our argument that I didn't think to check anything.

"Y/N?" I shook her body a little but she did not reply, not even a stir. I touched her back to move her but froze when I felt a warm liquid slip through my fingertips.

I panicked a little and tried to contact someone from S.H.I.E.L.D.

"H-Hello? Romanoff to S.H.I.E.L.D." I muttered into the earpiece, trying to hide the panic.

"We hear you, your earpiece seems to be working fine-"

"Y/N is compromised. We need emergency evacuation." I interrupted . My mind was racing as I glanced down at the unconscious body laid down on my chest. I took a closer look at the wounds on her back and realised that the bomb was a pipe bomb. Pieces of shrapnel were impaled into her back and she was bleeding pretty badly. My gaze landed on her right leg, where a chunk was missing and the muscle was visible.

An abundance of footsteps echoed through the hallway, towards us. I wrapped my hands around Y/N's waist and pulled her up with me to try and walk in the opposite direction of the footsteps. I put her over my shoulder and ran towards another hallway. Her blood dripped from her wounds and onto my body.

"Moving towards the east side." I huffed into my earpiece. I turned the corner to be greeted by a group of agents, ready, aiming their guns at me and the body on my shoulder.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Y/N groaned groggily from my shoulder and reached for her gun. A quick sense of relief washed over me before I pulled out one of my guns and began shooting, keeping my other arm wrapped securely around Y/N's waist.

We both started shooting at the agents, with her covering my blind spot and me covering hers. I killed the last agent and continued moving in the direction I was going previously. Y/N shuffled a bit and moved down my body to try and stand up. She wobbled so I put my arms around her waist to support her.

"Nat, I think I was shot." She whispered. The fear in her voice was evident, she was scared she was going to die. I didn't have time to stop and check her so we kept moving towards the east side.

"Hey, I think you got hit too." She voiced with concern, tracing her fingertips over the bullet wound on my shoulder making me wince a little.

I turned another corner and laid her down against the wall. By now, the alarms in the building were blaring and Hydra agents were scouring the area for us. I ripped a bit of fabric from my suit off with my teeth and ripped it in half. I wrapped half around her bullet wound tightly to limit the amount of blood she was losing and wrapped the other half around her leg.

"You're bleeding too." She told me even groggier than last time, pointing towards my shoulder.

"Yeah, I know. You're just my priority right now." I said, my voice wavering due to my fear. I tried so hard to keep a straight face but I couldn't. For the first time in a long time, I felt genuine fear.

Y/N was going to bleed out if we didn't get help soon. And it'd be all my fault.

"Hey...don't blame yourself for this," She whispered, her entire body limp and just her hand coming up to cup my cheek.

"I-It's okay...I'm not...going to die."

"Romanoff, cover your heads." Tony warned through the comms. I pulled Y/N into me and covered her ears and her neck.

Y/N's P.O.V Nat pulled me into her and I relaxed into the crook of her neck, just inhaling her scent. She covered my ears and head with her hands and I tried my best to stay conscious. Maybe resting wasn't the best option. The moment was pure bliss until a hole was blown into the wall.

There stood Tony and Steve looking, or trying to look, like total badasses. Natasha removed her hands from my head quickly and put them on my back, putting pressure on my wounds. My head was fuzzy and my vision was blurry. I was fighting consciousness as Natasha whispered.

"I'm so sorry."

I felt myself get lifted out of Natasha's grasp and into muscular arms. Probably Steve's because, let's face it, Tony is not that muscular.

"Stay with us Y/N." Steve said, although it sounded more like a command.

He set me down in the Quinjet and Bruce started grabbing everything he needed. I felt the consciousness slipping so I decided to spill.

"Natasha's hit too, don't let her tell you otherwise." I flashed a weak, cheeky smile at her before finally closing my eyes.

#natasha romanoff #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha x you #marvel cinematic universe

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yeowninefive · 1 year ago

Text

Mime En Blanche - Official Poster

This is the end of my "Mime En Blanche (MEB)" art project. Hope you enjoyed it!

Domino (middle) belongs to @nuclearmime, and Mute the Mime (right) belongs to @imrachets. The "eye" in the spaceship above is the insignia of Charn, a character that belongs to @spin-attaxx.

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partycatty · 1 year ago

Note

dark star johnny hatefucking his gf/bf over the balcony in his mansion, and acting like he’s gonna drop them off of the balcony if they misbehave in any way

this one has been SIMMERINGGGG in my inbox ive been too excited to write it LOLOL, also i changed this prompt just a smidge

dark star!johnny cage > fall for me

warnings: SMUT AS FUCK, UR LIFE IS BEING THREATENED BUT UR INTO IT LOL, again ds!jc is just literally insane !! also exhibitionism !! and also cnc !! jesus this man needs hella warnings!

notes: IM SORRY U GUYS HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG YOU ALL HAVE BEEN SO PATIENT SO IM REWARDING YOU

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 6*

[ masterlist ]

• dark star!johnny has a short temper, one he enjoys putting out on you. oftentimes, you didn't actually do anything, he's just mad at the idea of you going against him and that's typically enough to rile him up alone.

• this time around, you were a whopping ten minutes behind getting ready for one of his A-List parties. something about your makeup just didn't feel right no matter how many times you applied your eyeshadow or concealer, so adjustment after adjustment left johnny tapping his foot outside of the bedroom door.

• "baby~," he'd sing-song shout from the crack of the door. "this party is a big networking deal for me, and you're already fucking it up~!"

• "i didn't fuck anything up," you reply from the vanity seat, trying to focus on your lip liner. "we'll be on time, you baby."

• "don't you talk back to me!" he slams his palm again the wood, making you jump and, yet again, smear your liner. your lower your head to the vanity, bumping your forehead against the surface with a sigh.

• he eventually unlocks the bedroom door using his master key and ushers you out of the door with the temper of a toddler. his hand grabs your upper arm as you're placed into his luxury car and he drives off with a huff.

• johnny refuses to speak to you the entire time you're at the party, mostly ignoring you to bump shoulders with directors and writers. he wouldn't ever publically admit it, but roles were running dry as his agent turned up with no jobs, so he brought it up to himself to make some damn money.

• will probably call you the "ball and chain" or "the missus" in a super objectifying way as he gestures at you, trying to make the older higher-ups laugh. you had enough of it.

• deciding no longer to be his personal punchline, you wander away from the bustling, hot celebrity room and find a balcony. you were always the one to prefer fresh, open air and city skylines while johnny would rather be the one in the midst of the aforementioned city. you took advantage of this independence and leaned over the glass, savoring in the way the wind cools your damp skin.

• you only get to enjoy a few minutes in the quiet bliss before you hear the door slide open. at first, you expect it to be another partygoer hoping to squeeze in a quick smoke break, but you're horribly disappointed to be ripped from your tranquility by none other that your boyfriend.

• johnny stands at the door, fists clenched and jacket swirling in the wind. his eyes look dark, his brows furrowed.

• "where'd you go?" he asks, crossing his arms.

• you look at him like he's stupid (because he is). "the balcony?" you reply. johnny shakes his head.

• "that's not what i meant."

• "well, i left your side because i was tired of being shit on for an hour straight."

• "nobody's shitting on anyone!" johnny throws his arms in the air at your admittance, like he had no idea how cruel he was being. "they're just jokes! you're being dramatic. i thought you loved attention."

• "johnny-" you pinch your nose. "i have literally never said that."

• "but you show it! through your actions!"

• "oh my god, you're delusional," you turn away from him with a groan, trying to ignore the whiny bastard behind you. that proves a hard task when you hear his boots step up behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist and head buried in your neck.

• "you know i want you here," he mumbles into your skin, rocking you gently. you turn your face away from him, not falling for his charm.

• "you don't show it," you mutter in response, trying to take a step away from him but his grasp only strengthens.

• "i could," he hums, pressing his front to your backside. "or i could punish you for making us late."

• you swivel your head, craning your neck to glare at him. "seriously? now?" he breathes into your neck, agreeing breathlessly. "no, johnny. not here. people will see."

• "isn't that the fun part?" he grunts, grinding his hips into your ass. "don't be boring. you've been boring all night."

• his hands hike up your skirt hungrily, exposing your nearly-naked ass to the cold air. you shiver and yelp out, which only makes you jump back against him even harder. he shudders at the contact.

• "come on," he whispers, hands snaking up to squeeze your chest. "don't make me be mean. you know i don't like being mean to you." his fingers find your hardened nipples, massaging them with pinched fingers.

• attempting to crane your neck to ensure the balcony's doors are locked, johnny notices your diverted attention and holds your jaw, angling it out toward the city.

• "you see that?" he breathes, now fully grinding against you. "that's my city, baby. i'm the king of hollywood, isn't that right?"

• "i guess," you reply, gasping at his erection sliding against you.

• SMACK! johnny didn't like that answer. you lurch forward from the hard slap to your ass.

• "say it," he growls, biting your neck. "or i'm gonna make you."

• "you're the king of hollywood," your voice is comically flat, exhausted from always having to gas him up for the dumbest things. johnny picks up on your unenthusiastic tone and spins you around by your hips, sitting you on the balcony ledge. his lips latch onto your throat, sucking and biting hungrily.

• his fingers danced on your panties, sliding them aside. as much as you wanted to be annoyed with him, he is so unimaginably fine. and you're the type of person that likes to be manhandled. both traits he ate up.

• before you could say anything more, johnny's fingers dove into your mouth, collecting a good amount of your saliva before using it on your pussy, shoving two fingers inside making you cry out in surprise.

• "not here, right?" he breathes, savoring the way your breathing gets heavier and your skin warms from his touch. "then we'd better be quick. and quiet." his fingers scissor inside of you, making you moan with a hand shut over your lips.

• johnny was impatient, not finding any joy in fingering you, so he glanced behind him to ensure the coast was clear before whipping his dick out, holding his shirt up by his teeth. he lined himself up, eyes focused on your bodies merging rather than your expressions.

• didn't matter how many times you get it on, you will never be fully ready for how long his dick is. while not the thickest, it just feels seemingly endless as it's embracing your walls.

• he spins you around again, throwing your front over the balcony ledge and holding you by your hips. surely, if he were to let go, you'd fall. and it wasn't a short drop.

• "fuck," he hissed as his tip met your entrance. "i control you, isn't that right?"

• a distant "mhm" slips from your lips as johnny shoves himself inside again with a slapping thrust. his gasp slides into whimper territory as he bottoms out.

• "fuck yeah i do," he growls, now going at an unholy pace. he hated the progression of sex - it was either all or nothing. "could drop you right now."

• you're pulled from your lust when you look down, noticing the rocky way down to a small river. damn these celebrities and their hillside mansions. you swallow thickly, hoping he was joking.

• "please don't," you beg in a whisper, interrupted by gasps with each thrust. "please don't let go."

• johnny could only laugh loudly at your plea, bruising your hips with his grip as he ruthlessly pounded. he was sticking true to his word about being quick, because his breakneck pace was making your cunt flutter.

• "nobody would even notice," he moans, his shirt dropping from his teeth and falling back down his front. "i'm the star."

• "you're the star," you parrot in a sick mix of lust and fear. "you're my everything."

• "i could fucking throw you off for making us late. could drop you — haah — you like it when i play god, don't you? you wanna fall for me, baby?"

• his brows knit and eyes screw shut as he finds his release inside of you. you try hard to not laugh at the fact that his own dirty talking is making him close. his grip loosens as he concentrates, and you fearfully try to hold yourself against the balcony so you don't topple forward.

• "joh— john—" you worriedly look down again, your stomach flipping as it nears an orgasm - and potential death. "johnny, please—"

• "hmm?" johnny tilts his head, a cocky smirk on his lips and exposing his beautiful pearly white teeth.

• your brain feels torn in half. you want to beg him to hold on, but you also want to cum so badly. unable to decide on an outcome, your voice sputters out pathetic begs, not entirely coherent as your mind grows foggy with an overwhelming amount of emotion.

• thankfully, your body decides for you. your knees buckle inward and his hold on you tightens. you cry out, cumming around his dick as your voice echoes through the hills. you swear a flock of birds takes off from how loudly you orgasm.

• "haah — don't fucking fall—" johnny's hands pull you impossibly closer. "not when i'm clo— ngh —"

• you find no peace after finishing, just johnny's hips slamming into your ass as his pants grow uneven. it's not long before he spills inside of you, holding you there as you're filled up.

• johnny's the first one to pull away, pulling out and making you whimper from the emptiness. you turn around to face him, your ass still bare, red, and spilling with semen. his phone's in his hand when he snaps a couple photos of this puppy eyed look.

• "you look so pathetic," he laughs, the flash of his camera making you shield your eyes. "i bet hollywood heard those moans. all thanks to me."

• you pull up your own panties and johnny visibly twitches seeing a droplet of his cum seep through. shockingly, he places a quick, chaste kiss to your lips.

• "and you're welcome for not dropping you," he winks with a toothy grin, thinking it was some kind of joke. a deep, dark part of you knew he probably genuinely considered dropping you. you were just lucky you were only ten minutes late, who knows what he'd do if you were an hour late.

• as you're pondering your life and near-death experience, johnny returns to the party, waiting for you at the door. it would be best if you stuck by him for the rest of the party.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat smut #marley writes ☆

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aplaceinthedark · 27 days ago

Text

Chapter One: A World Where You Don’t Have To Hide

Word Count: 3.4k+

CW: violence, a LOOOT of world building, mentions of bigotry and racism

This is RPF, and thus will contain real people, but names and events will be changed. If this bothers you too much, then please leave.

Dividers by meeeeeeeee

ONCE UPON A TIME, the world was ruled by two faeries.

[NAME ILLEGIBLE] was the good twin, though a tyrant in her own way. She embodied the faeries’ hopes and dreams, giving them all the ability to create to their heart's content. For she, too, was an artist of reality. In her wake, Murmur, the rotten twin would turn the world back to its boring mundanity, for she only saw their power wasted on their subjects.

[NAME ILLEGIBLE] wanted to share their power, while Murmur wanted to keep it all for herself. But she knew that collecting all of [NAME ILLEGIBLE]’s power would take centuries, if not millennia. So she waited.

She wasn't idle, though, and created a weapon. She forged this weapon from every selfish and hateful ion in her immortal form until she held a spear in her pitch-black fingers.

Murmur bade her sister welcome to their capital city, into their palace of metal and diamonds.

Where she betrayed [NAME ILLEGIBLE].

It was said that every creature shuddered in horror and fear as the good twin was slain. Murmur smiled in triumph, ready to collect the power she had coveted since they were birthed.

But [NAME ILLEGIBLE] was no fool. Instead of summoning all of her power back to herself, letting Murmur siphon her essence, she extended herself further until she dissipated like morning dew in the afternoon sunlight. And as the rotten twin stomped and screamed, the good twin's heart ascended, passing through space and time–

The sudden jarring of turbulence nearly knocked my head against the inside of the copter. It did, however, knock the book out of my hands and onto the floor. I swore as I bent over to retrieve it.

“You're the only one I've known to be able to read an actual book while mid-flight!” The pilot shouted over the beating of the copter's wings. “Normally agents can barely read a Dossier file without throwing up!”

“I'm not really an agent,” I said, tucking the bookmark I'd clipped behind my ear between the pages of the book. I slipped it into my carry-on. I adjusted my sunglasses.

“We're nearly to the landing spot! There'll be someone there to transport you into the Nexus and take you to Site-6 itself!”

My stomach twisted. It was different, hearing the number change from two to six. I had lived in Site-2B for the last two years, making a home out of the harsh conditions, and all it took was the death of the Director of NExUS to demolish it. But at least now I was a part of something, rather than just a junior researcher forced to clean up files in the Threat Entity Database.

I looked out the windows to see the land below turn from gray to brown. Late February meant that it was still cold around here, but at least it would be warmer than an oil rig in the middle of the English Channel.

“Alright, Ms. Grey! Prepare for landing!”

The “landing pad” was just a clearing in the mountain wilderness, with no sign of civilization anywhere to be seen. The pilot helped me out of the cockpit, letting me pull my one bag of luggage out of the hold. He had been surprised when I had shown up, probably expecting someone with more mementos, but instead he got this girl with hardly anything to her name and sunglasses she refused to take off. My eyes had a tendency to frighten people.

The drive was short, thankfully. It was just in an off-road vehicle that took us into that actual mountain wilderness, called Copper's Rock State Forest. The scenery was actually pleasant to look at, despite the missing leaves due to the time of the year. But eventually, we approached the Nexus barrier.

“This might be uncomfortable,” the driver chuckled. I rolled my eyes at his attempt to be… whatever. I had lived in an Ur-Nexus for the first five years of my known life. The bubble barriers didn't phase me.

What did phase me was the immediate near-stop the vehicle made after we passed through. “Engines don't work here, sweetie.” He chuckled. I glared at him through my sunglasses.

What waited for us was a tram, empty due to being this far out. I took a seat near the front, near where a driver would be if this machine had one. “Have a safe trip!” the driver shouted as the vehicle jerked to life. Pretty soon, he was lost in the fogginess of the barrier limits.

I couldn't read any files on my Tab, due to not being connected to the Nexus’ network, and I didn't want to drag my book out if Cooper's Rock was nearby, so instead I just watched the scenery pass by. It was a welcome change from the constant slate blue of the ocean that had been my life for the past few years. I felt a pang of sadness for a brief second, but it was gone within a few seconds.

I barely had time to mourn the NExUS Director after her funeral when I was ushered to the copter. When I had arrived at my room, two GRAVE agents were at my door, telling me I had fifteen minutes to pack up my belongings as I was now being reassigned. The only information I could pry out of them was my new location and I was changing jobs. No longer a part of the NExUS branch, the UPA's information and security division, I was now assigned to an Assessment Task Force as a PSYCHE Consultant.

This had the Director's fingerprints all over it. She had been worried about what would become of me when she passed away, since she was so sure of who the UPA would name as her successor. And she was right. Before they even held her funeral, a Doctor was promoted to her position, and I was so sure it was only a matter of time before something would happen to me.

The tram slowly rumbled along, the woods transitioning to a more civilized locale. Houses dotted the landscape, growing closer together until I was in a cityscape.

Cooper's Rock, the gem of the eastern mountains.

A voice crackled over an unseen intercom, startling me. "Living District." A couple stops here and there picked up more people.I could see their stares linger on me for only a moment, but they soon slid away. Eventually, I saw why. Cooper's Rock was a Free Port, therefore it was neutral grounds for all races: Humans, Faeries, the Anomalous... You name it. Though I didn't see if Reality Benders were a part of the “Accepted” list.

My stop came a few after the intercom called out “Ruling District." A few other people and I stepped off the tram, and I followed as best as I could without being noticed.

Site-6 was as unremarkable as the other sites I had seen - as few as that was. We only had a few minutes of walking from the first security gate to the next one. Most of the land that belonged to the site was in the back, I heard - or maybe read. What the UPA does with all the acres, I wouldn't know. I hadn't the clearance for that knowledge, and probably never will.

Unfortunately, my first hiccup came up at the second security checkpoint, just inside the front lobby . For now, I had transfer clearance to enter the site, but I had to acquiesce to one thing.

“Sunglasses need to come off, Ma’am,” the security guard said after I handed over my Tab and my carry-on.

I knew it was coming, but that didn't stop my nerves from twisting. I sighed internally and reached up to take them off. Slipping them into my coat pocket, I looked back up into the security guard's face.

Between my years working as a servant for the Cult of Orobos and then working for the UPA, I got really good at reading bodies and faces, down to almost a miniscule scale. I managed to catch the slight falter in his eyes when he saw mine were purple, almost violet. He was pretty quick to reign it in.

“Have a good day, ma’am,” he said, handing me back my Tab.

"Same to you," I said in return, hoping it would put him at ease. I grabbed my carry-on and turned away. As I continued walking, I'm sure I heard him release the breath he had been holding.

That was probably the calmest reaction to my eyes I had ever seen. Sadly, it would probably stay that way going forward.

I hate having to start over.

It didn't take me long to set up my meager belongings. My temporary housing was the size of a small apartment, twice the size of my room at 2B. Eighty percent of my stuff was clothes, all but one piece black thanks to my work wardrobe, and a few books.

It was nearing twelve hours since I had been whisked away with no goodbyes. Dustin had to be wondering where I was. If only I could access my email…

There was a knock at my door. I tore away from the depressive state of my place and opened the door.

A man stood on the other side, clad in the BLACK Ambassador suit. He sported a mustache and goatee, and his dark brown hair was half-up in a bun, leaving the rest down.

“Miss Grey?” he asked with a lilting accent.

“Yes,” I answered.

“I'm Joakim, the Ambassador for STF Eta-777,” he said, holding out a hand. I slowly took it, expecting a handshake but he squeezed my hand once and then let go. “I've come by to take you to our office when you're done acclimating to your place.”

Can you not see that there's nothing for me to acclimate with? I wanted to say, but the words died in my throat. Being as small as I was, I was used to men towering over me. Joakim wasn't as tall as some men I've met, but I still had to crane my neck.

“I'm fine to go now.” I shut my door behind me, locking it with a temporary old-fashioned key. It wasn't like I had anything valuable in there, but a lifetime of living with no possessions to my name, I couldn't bear the thought of someone rifling and taking them.

I kept a half step behind him as we headed to what had to be the other side of the Site. In the time I had been in my quarters, I had studied and memorized the map that was in my welcome packet. There were five floors; two aboveground, and three below. The ground floor which we were on, was for offices and "recreational and living purposes." The floor above us was for research and development, which would most likely be the floor where I would spend most of my time. The three below were more vague due to my clearance, but I knew one of them contained an anomalous library of sorts.

Perhaps one day I would go down there for old times' sake. As long as he wasn't down there.

“So, you're an Ontokineticist, is that right?” Joakim asked.

"Yes." I kept my head straight, but my eyes down to prevent anyone from seeing my eyes as we passed them in the halls.

“Your file had some interesting… gaps in it,” he mused. “I’d like to know more about you before I introduce you to the main team you'll be working with.”

“If you're referring to the redacted gap before my time at UTU–”

“Oh, we know about your time with the Truth of Orobos,” he interrupted me, making me look quizzically up at him. “I was talking more about the time before that.”

The “we” threw me off. “That gap is there because there's nothing to write about. I don't remember anything before my time with that cult," I said cautiously.

That had been a key focal point for some doctors to use as ammunition against me. I didn't know my family, nor could I remember my life from birth to being a teenager. There was one blurry image, and then the crystal clearness of the Grey Library, where I lived for nearly five years. So, for the first approximately twenty years of my life, it was a sore subject.

Curiously, Joakim only nodded as he assessed my words, as if he could sense I was telling the truth. “You never sought out the answer in the Grey?”

“The Grey is infinite. It was a waste of time to try to look for it there.”

Joakim looked down at me, and smiled. “You're a mystery, Mab Grey. I like that," he said. Before I could ask what he meant by that, he halted outside of a door. “We’re here.”

He ushered me inside before I could get a good look at the frosted window and the symbol on it. The thorny circle looked familiar, but it wasn't ringing any bells. It did, however, induce a feeling of fear, but relief. Maybe I saw it in a book, once.

Then I looked over the room.

I had an office.

Well, not quite. I didn't have it all to myself. But there, in a corner close to the door, I had a space. And it was a lot bigger than what I had back at 2B. If you could call a shelf of a desk a space.

But here, I had an actual desk. With shelves. Part of me wanted to scream in joy that I had something to call my own, something I've wanted for the past two years. Speaking of which...

There was a translucent bag sitting neatly on the middle of my desk, containing something black inside. My feet automatically carried me swiftly over to my desk, and I tore into the bag with almost reckless abandon. The object unfolded in one smooth motion as I held it up.

My very own BLACK jacket.

The three main divisions got their own style of BLACK uniforms, which were a sort of working uniform. GRAVE agents got a tactical jacket. AMITY observers got a bomber jacket, and ambassadors got a stylish poncho-like jacket, which Joakim wore.

Members of the PSYCHE division got black, knee-length coats, reminiscent of a lab coat. Which I now had in my hands.

“Women and their clothes, huh?”

My head turned towards the new voice. That's when I saw two other men conversing on the other side of the room, and I had been completely oblivious to them.

“Ignore Nick. He's about as sharp as a battering ram,” Joakim said, waving his hand at the two.

The man that I guess was Nick, if the widening grin in response was anything to go by, said, “Brute force works a lot of the time,” making the other man roll his eyes.

“Mab, this is Nick and Matt, our main Agent and our team's Sponsor.”

“So it really is true," Matt said. "We have an honest-to-god Reality Bender on our team now."

The use of the non-UPA term of what my title was felt oddly... comforting. I tilted my head. “You had your doubts?" I asked.

"People like you aren't exactly common in the workplace,” Nick said, sliding off a desk. He was half a foot taller than me, and his light brown eyes seemed to show his heart on his sleeve. Up close, I could tell he was older than he looked; otherwise he looked like a kid.

I tried not to wince at the truth of his words. “Yeah, I'm aware.”

As Nick went back to talking with Matt, I took the moment to take in the other desks and tables. All of them were decorated with various objects, each telling a little bit of the owner's story. Nick’s desk was a mess, but I could see what looked like a miniature fishing pole perched near a miniature motorcycle. Joakim’s desk was more clean, though he did have various souvenirs from places he obviously have had to visit; a replica of Sweden's flag was more prominent than anything else. Matt’s desk hardly had anything on it except two pictures of dogs.

On the other side of Jolly's desk, there were two desks vacant of their owners. One was decorated with art, which seemed to shift the longer I stared at it. Various pens stuck out of a mug that was decorated with cats. The other desk was covered in paperwork, but what was shocking to me was the katana that was acting as a paperweight.

“Wouldn't touch that if I were you,” a voice said. It must have belonged to Matt.

“Who leaves a weapon out in the open?” I asked, turning to face him.

“Our Team Lead, that's who,” Matt said. He then turned his head to Nick. “Though I'm pretty sure this stupid bitch has left out more guns than I can think of.”

“Hey, they weren't loaded.”

As they bickered some more, I slipped on my jacket. It fit perfectly, though it felt a little heavy and still had its packaging smell. I didn't care.

As I straightened the back of the collar, I looked up to see Joakim watching me. He smiled. “It suits you,” he said. Warmth rose up my neck at the compliment.

“They're late,” Matt bemoaned.

"Relax, man. You know how it is getting into Cooper's Rock when you're flying,” Nick said.

Matt turned towards me. "It sucked, didn't it?”

“I didn't fly directly into the Nexus," I replied.

“Oh, you had to go the long way, didn't you?” Nick asked. “How'd that trip go?”

The small talk nearly threw me off. I was more used to everyone either ignoring me, or giving me a hastily given greeting before they ran off. But for these guys to completely disregard what I was, they must have had some kind of training or other. Who could even have given them a debriefing over Reality Benders?

Soon after I had that thought, Nick asked, "So what can you do, exactly?" He wiggled his fingers at me.

“Ignore him." Matt said, elbowing Nick in his ribs.

“What?! It's a genuine question!”

“It's more like, what can I not do,” I said. When our eyes met, I finally saw a flicker of fear in his eyes, but it was gone almost as quick as it appeared.

"Can you predict the future?" he asked.

“Nick.” Joakim barely raised his voice, but I could detect the meaning behind it. Cut it out, he seemed to say.

“No, I can't. And I'm sure you have a few reality regulators around the Site, so I couldn't demonstrate my abilities even if I wanted to,” I said. If I had anything real to demonstrate.

Luckily, the sound of the office door's security being disarmed interrupted the awkward silence, and the door opened. Another man came through, and I went still.

I recognized him.

His dark brown hair was tied up neatly in a bun near the top of his head, and he wore an AMITY Observer jacket. And even though we were quite a ways apart, I knew he had light-colored eyes.

There was no way I could be seeing Nicholas after all this time. But if he was here, then that meant–

When Nicholas saw me, he tilted his head. “Hey, I know y–”

“Man, don't fly from China on a last-minute red-eye. Especially if you plan on going to the Site directly after that,” a very familiar voice interrupted him.

No no no there's no way. Statistically, what were the chances of me being assigned to the same team as him? Out of the three located in this Site? Out of the hundreds of the organization?

Another man stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He was taller than Joakim, and dressed in a GRAVE Agent jacket… No, his was different. His jacket was a little bit longer and nicer looking, meaning he was the Team Leader–

Oh, stars, no.

He was almost unrecognizable compared to the last time I'd seen him, with his dark hair cut just above his ears. But I'd recognize those black eyes anywhere, especially when they crinkled as he smiled at me. Joakim didn't have to introduce me to him.

“Long time no see, Mab,” Noah said.

The man who'd saved me from the Truth of Orobos…

…and who in turn made my life a living nightmare.

tysm for reading! If you enjoyed this, please reblog. Next chapter coming soon.

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#bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens au #bad omens rpf #paranormal au #scp au #fic: apotheosis

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vilevenom · 4 months ago

Text

Welp, this has been rattling around in my head for a week now, so I had to get it out. (I might start writing a series of short little stories for the movie!verse...)

Come and Find your Kind

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (movie universe)

Pairing: Agent Stone & Shadow

Summary: Stone was just starting to get used to the idea of being alone. Perhaps, though, that wasn't what the world had in store for him.

WARNING: SPOILERS for Sonic 3

Stone woke to the sound of blaring alarms.

He groaned as he sat up, glaring down at the flashing red light his phone was emitting, reaching out to turn it off, though the alarms from the cafe downstairs continued to screech. He sighed heavily as he slid from the sheets, shoving his feet into a pair of slippers and pulling on a bathrobe as he grabbed a baseball bat from the corner of his bedroom. The last time the Mean Bean's alarms had gone off it had been because a racoon somehow managed to get in, and the time before that it was a wind storm shattering a window. At this point, Stone was fairly certain that the amount of security he'd installed was pointless, but he also couldn't bring himself to take any of it out or turn it off, knowing how much of the late Doctor's tech was stored down there. It didn't help his mood about the whole thing when Wade the town's acting sheriff at the time, had been more suspicious of him than the racoon trying to steal his bagels the last time the authorities had been involved.

More than once Stone had debated closing up the Mean Bean for good and moving somewhere else, but Green Hills had somehow become home. Even though half the town gave him a wide berth for his association with the Robotniks, while the other half only seemed to know him as 'the coffee guy', which was fine by him, really. It was easier to keep a low profile that way. It also allowed him to mourn in peace, if no one wanted to bother with him.

Yet another put upon sigh left him as he stepped into the cafe proper, bat hoisted over his shoulder as he flicked the lights on and winced at the blasting siren of an alarm. With a quick tap to a handful of buttons on a discreetly hidden panel on the wall, he shut off the alarm, shuffling forward as he looked around to see what had caused them to go off this time around.

Stone drummed his fingers along the handle of his bat, arching a brow when he couldn't immediately see what had set the siren off, becoming more and more curious as he walked through the cafe, until he finally noticed the red glow of one of the floor panels behind the main counter. After the incident with the racoon, and reviewing Ivo's old designs he'd made for GUN over the years, Stone had come across some brilliant designs for alternating gravity panels. Not wanting to have to chase another woodland creature for two and a half hours to try and get it out of his cafe, he'd decided that installing the panels throughout the flooring of the cafe would be the best way to save himself time and effort. And, obviously, whatever had broken into the Mean Bean this time had triggered one.

"Okay, little guy," the ex-agent sighed, setting his bat on the counter as he rounded the corner, "It's time to go-OH!" He froze in his tracks upon seeing exactly what had been caught by the gravity panel. Danishes and bagels were scattered across the floor, and his pastry case was wide open, while a pile of red and black quills struggled against the artificial gravity of the floor panel. "Shadow?" he whispered in awe, quickly turning to another hidden control panel on the back counter to turn the floor panel off, before rushing to the trapped hedgehog's side. "You're alive! Does that mean Ivo-" The brief flare of hope that had ignited in his heart was quickly extinguished as Shadow slowly pushed himself up onto his knees and only briefly met Stone's eyes with a look of guilt. He slumped on his knees as puffed out a breath, nodding slightly. "I…I see."

"I'm…sorry," Shadow murmured quietly, fists clenched over his knees as he stared at the floor in front of him. "I don't know what happened after the canon exploded. I woke up after I'd already landed back on earth."

"No, no, it…it's alright," Stone muttered, rubbing at his face tiredly, "It's already been weeks. This was the Doctor's first stop, the last time he went missing. If he was able to, he'd have come back by now…"

"Still, I didn't mean to give you false hope," Shadow whispered, ducking his head slightly, "I was just scavenging. I never meant to wake anyone, or cause a scene."

"Why didn't you just teleport away?" Stone asked, finally taking real stock of how Shadow looked. His quills were a disheveled mess, while his gloves and shoes were torn and filthy, respectively. He had dirt caked into his back quills, where he obviously couldn't clean himself, and he looked tired, knelt on the floor like a repentant child who'd broken something precious.

"I can't," Shadow sighed, bristling for a moment, before relaxing again, eyes wistful as he stared off into the middle distance, "I used too much chaos energy, between powering the canon and forcing it out of orbit…I was told once that, should I use to much energy, I could combust in a catastrophic explosion. I've been trying to conserve energy for the last few weeks, but I still don't feel…right."

"I see," Stone hummed, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a moment, before shoving himself to his feet, while offering Shadow a hand. "Well, I can tell you that sugary pastries aren't going to help replenish your energy properly. Why don't we go upstairs, and I can make you something proper?"

Shadow stared at his hand for what felt like a small eternity, his gaze finally dragging itself up to Stone's face, his brow furrowed. "But…why?"

Stone let a small smile curl his lips for what was likely the first time since he'd watched the Eclipse Canon explode above London. "Because you look like you could use a good meal, and a place to rest."

Swallowing thickly, Shadow gave a small nod as he took Stone's hand and allowed the human to help him up onto his feet. "Thank you," he said, nearly inaudible, as Stone held his hand and lead him back upstairs to his apartment.

"This is an indignity," Shadow groused, arms folded over his chest as Stone chuckled from his spot perched on the edge of the tub.

"You're filthy. I'm not letting you sit on my couch with this much dirt in your quills," Stone hummed, dumping a bucket of water over Shadow's head to rinse the froth of soap bubbles from red and black quills.

"I can wash myself!"

"The amount of dirt coming off of you tells me something different."

Shadow rolled his eyes and sunk further into the water, earning a light laugh from Stone.

"Here you go."

Shadow stared at the plate he was handed, his naked fingers clutching at the warm ceramic. His gloves and socks had quickly been tossed into the laundry, while his shoes were left next to the front door of the apartment. His breath caught in his throat as a blanket was draped over his damp shoulders, before Stone finally sat next to him on the couch with his own plate in hand, though it was significantly smaller than what he'd given Shadow. The dark hedgehog turned glassy eyes on the ex-agent, his breathing uneven as he watched Stone absently take a bite of his food while picking up the tv remote.

"…why are you doing this?"

"Hmm?" Stone blinked, his fork still in his mouth as he turned a confused look on Shadow.

"Why are you being so…why are you taking care of me like this?"

"I already told you," Stone hummed, pulling his fork from his mouth and swallowing his food, "Because you look like you need it."

"What do you want from me in return?"

"What?"

"The scientists wanted energy, GUN wanted power, Gerald wanted revenge…the only person who has never wanted anything from me was Maria. So…you must want something. What is it?"

Stone sighed, setting his plate aside. "I don't-" he saw the tightening expression on Shadow's face and let out another short breath, knowing he'd need to be truthful with the hedgehog. He was smarter than he looked. "Companionship? Even if for a little while…I can see you're hurt, and hurting. And we both lost someone, so I guess…I guess I'm just treating you the way I wish I'd been treated."

Shadow watched him for a moment, before nodding slightly and turning back to his plate of food. "I…think I would also like that."

"Glad that we could settle that," Stone hummed, picking the tv remote back up as Shadow finally dug into his food with gusto.

#sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #agent stone #sonic 3 #sonic movie spoilers #sonic fanfiction #sonic movies #things that i wrote

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